What was about this face?
Between mirage and actuality?
A fireball was coming towards you.
You upturn the underside,
wanted to taste the blood
and get argasm.
The statues were posing nude.

Mothers were clad in leaves.
Fruits were the greed of man.
I refuse to lie in state. The
sand grains will find the innocence
of silver breasts when sky will
spat a murder. Were you ready
now to become corrupt?

At last the beginners are now
becoming the boots.

Satish Verma