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LITTLE TRUTHS, LITTLE TRUTHS, LITTLE TRUTHS, LITTLE TRUTHS
Deluge of criminality in the moral night;
sun was taking a plunge on the falls,
in the name of cobbled up front, for our
rise and fall in the primary casuality.
Sacred contusion, on the floor of mausoleum,
when you smell like a forgotton god, and
lie in the generosity of asylum under the downy mildew.
You cannot cry in the armless death.
History begins with starvation and murders
of innocents between the blasts. Spiders were fattening
on walls eating untangled, discarded syllables.
Punishment of defeat makes you a sex slave.
The ash smeared body must lie on doormat.
Satish Verma
-----------------------------
LITTLE TRUTHS
Deluge of criminality in the moral night;
sun was taking a plunge on the falls,
in the name of cobbled up front, for our
rise and fall in the primary casuality.
Sacred contusion, on the floor of mausoleum,
when you smell like a forgotton god, and
lie in the generosity of asylum under the downy mildew.
You cannot cry in the armless death.
History begins with starvation and murders
of innocents between the blasts. Spiders were fattening
on walls eating untangled, discarded syllables.
Punishment of defeat makes you a sex slave.
The ash smeared body must lie on doormat.
Satish Verma
-----------------------------
LITTLE TRUTHS
Deluge of criminality in the moral night;
sun was taking a plunge on the falls,
in the name of cobbled up front, for our
rise and fall in the primary casuality.
Sacred contusion, on the floor of mausoleum,
when you smell like a forgotton god, and
lie in the generosity of asylum under the downy mildew.
You cannot cry in the armless death.
History begins with starvation and murders
of innocents between the blasts. Spiders were fattening
on walls eating untangled, discarded syllables.
Punishment of defeat makes you a sex slave.
The ash smeared body must lie on doormat.
Satish Verma
-----------------------------
LITTLE TRUTHS
Deluge of criminality in the moral night;
sun was taking a plunge on the falls,
in the name of cobbled up front, for our
rise and fall in the primary casuality.
Sacred contusion, on the floor of mausoleum,
when you smell like a forgotton god, and
lie in the generosity of asylum under the downy mildew.
You cannot cry in the armless death.
History begins with starvation and murders
of innocents between the blasts. Spiders were fattening
on walls eating untangled, discarded syllables.
Punishment of defeat makes you a sex slave.
The ash smeared body must lie on doormat.
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. He can also be reached at kantasatish@gmail.com. 5-A ii, Mayoor Colony, Alwar Gate, Ajmer – 305007 INDIA Mobile +91 9829071468
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