On the hay stack lies my body 
brought from the shooting range. 
Brain dead, I exit, to watch 
the blood drenched earth. Foot prints of eternity. 

Window is shut. No light enters. 
In tiers, the cadavers are lying in a heap 
of stinks. Violence has brought the perfect 
insult to bubbling life. 

A naked truth sweeps the floor, burns 
the statements of filthy peers. I was 
young with small eyes, full of water, 
in the face of crime, looking at the stars. 

Death will walk on payments now. 
History will ooze in spurts.

Satish Verma


  • baj-a

    the horror of the scene is so vivid in the words you write. I am so pained by the words I cannot even find words to describe how deeply it has affected me.

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