Treasure Island

Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

*On 100th Birthday of Alan Turing


Why were you collecting the
people all around?
Unsure of yourself on the
ambiguity of an inquest?

I remained unhappy my
whole life and left the
bed after chemical-castration,
in hurry.

In hindsight inside the
nightmare room, what was
left to imagination? The
half-eated apple?

Hold my hand. I am coming
with you, to settle
my account with god, for
creating people of this type.




The purple spillage 24 June 2012
was ready to play with-
fire, for estranged lover,

inventing a fake enemy.
What if I die again and
again for you.

It begs the identity of a
black moon, perhaps to reflect
the stuttering homophobia.

Crossing the time zones, searching
the old snow, in the cracks of
volcanic rocks, you kiss a clove bud.

In anger, I receive your ashes,
when it was raining blue.
A baby died in a crib, unattended.


*Code breaking genius, founder of computer science, who allegedly committed suicide on 7th June 1954.

Submitted: Monday, July 01, 2013
Edited: Monday, July 01, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (*On 100th Birthday of Alan Turing by Satish Verma )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »
[Hata Bildir]