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Poems :  Water Was Transparent
Tags: Life  
 
A firefly in a jar
will not fly.

Presiding over the genocide
how can you count the dead
children of god, on the street,
by your forked tongue?

The roving eyes. Chameleons.
With folded hands, they
throw the snow on your
disheveled hair.

The morals are marketed
daily on the dais. I deny myself,
something which I can give
you. O hunger, don't go back.



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Date 2017/3/8 3:42:41
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Recents
The Blame Game Begins
Behind The Brick Walls
In Trembling Smile
The Dead Don't Care
That Was
Random
The Broken Statue
No More, No Less
PSYCHOLOGICAL DYING
IT OPENS
WINDOWS
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