Where The Lies Are Born?

by Satish Verma   Aug 2, 2016


Entrailes were sucked by grief
and pleasure bruised;
beyond the possible
I aspired to find
meaning of life.

A will to reject
unbearable waste,
I trim humiliation.
Time scares by taking revenge
breaking the inner serenade,
and I climb the doubts.

Heartache persists without revelation.
no bitterness descends.
I dip my fingers in blood
to write a flaming entity.

Tell me where the masks are assembeled?
Where the lies are born?

3


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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Hello Satish,

    lovely and vivid descriptions here and from the off.

    The image of 'entrails being sucked by grief' is superb - the simile of grief making you feel wretched is effective.

    '...trim humiliation' another superb term - trying to regain control in front of others.

    'inner serenade' - I take this as an inner happiness, inner love perhaps.

    'dipping fingers in blood' - using the pain to write what is sometimes too hard to say.

    I wish I knew where the liars lived so I could give them a wide berth, but those masks make them look like you and me.

    Great concept and excellently executed.

    Well done and all the best.

    Take care,

    Michael

  • 1 year ago

    by Em

    Beautiful imagery, emotion filled piece.

    Em

  • 1 year ago

    by Mahal Ko Kuya Ko

    Beautiful! Beautiful! Your pieces are always emotion-filled, full of wonderful imagery, and I love that they are nature poems. You write effortlessly beautiful!

    --- MKKK