Sun’s Inheritance Poem by Satish Verma
Sun’s Inheritance
This was a raw thing.
A paranoid template for AK-47 rifles. The
homemade bombs were planted on the roadside.
A very explosive blend of a fedayeen. You
cannot take it anymore this jihad. In everyday
life inside comes out in the graveyard. It drizzles,
the fake beliefs.
A bleak panaroma. Pansexual desire. Black
boulders, reddish cheeks,
moon falling on so many of stars!
I want a burntout sun.
Satish Verma
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:47:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
very thoughtful and sensitive poem, yes the world needs a burnout sun , not the cold fading moon that falls on many stars. good write.