*PLASMA SCREEN

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