I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
--------------------------------------------------------------
Non - ‘I'
I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
--------------------------------------------------------------
Non - ‘I'
I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
--------------------------------------------------------------
Non - ‘I'
I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
--------------------------------------------------------------
Non - ‘I'
I intend to move away from myself
as apologia for sadness,
Could not give up the zen,
powerless, breathless, drowning,
in my skin, my viens,
sharing the existence of undoing,
what was something.
Nobody I am, connecting to you
by flames of aristocracy of pain,
for eternal slavery.
Primitive memory hurts. Give me your tears.
The world is struck by salutation to sun
I am free to put a mask
and light the dead wood.
Satish Verma
--------------------------------------------------------------
About the Author:
Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. His scions, doctors and engineers are living in USA. He chose to live back in his beloved country and resides in Ajmer (INDIA) with his spouse Kanta running the Charitable Holistic Institute of SEWA MANDIR FOUNDATION. |
