New Religions Poem by Satish Verma
New Religions
Rating: ★4.5
Pure kill.
I pull out the shivering
heart in my eyes.
A rising sin. I will
not forget you, never―
your tongue bifida.
And a real―
murder of a blue-green cow
reared for religion.
That sucks. The
numbers, the lies and
the terrible abuses.
The shadows are
lengthening and you were
becoming small.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 8:44:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The carpenter was meticulous in creating strengths. The angles were a matter of math. The grain ran the length of his life. The plane shaved the days and hours one moment at a time. Diaphanous and flammable the shavings were the father's gift to the son.