May I Say Poem by Satish Verma

At ethnic moment
on the moonfront, artless impressionists
of parallel conflicts with anxious looks
come to share the self realized truth
of mangled uncertainties,

watching your own dead body:
small chicks huddle together for contemporary
thoughts of violence-to kill or not to kill-
humanity walks with bent head
listening nothing:

I am desperate, the moon was stone faced
black holes bleed and throw the crystals
of red light: dropp your pen and hold the death
on doorway, morning wind was coming
from the seaside:


for dissolution of your ego, I would go for a long swim.