It was an absent answer. Terror 
was one abyss in unhindered 
waking of eternity in being. The passions rise 
between downpour of black rings on the terraces, 
was nonstop a parade of excuses and pretentions, no 
body was taking the responsibility of the war lost, and 
we nod in unison. Hunger drives the wedge. This 
is a city of moonless sky where the headcount 
never stops. 

Warriors sit down under the volts opening red 
eyes, the trade gets a bad name, rubbers 
win the coin. Yellow metal gleams around arms, 

a wound becomes a talisman, you start collecting 
the awards from severed hands. 



Satish Verma 

*On watching a massive blaze of gas depot at Jaipur (India) unebbed for 3 days.

Satish Verma