"Beauty is truth,
truth beauty,
that is all Ye know on Earth,
that is all Ye need to know..." - John Keats

Thursday, 20 June 2013

Sorrow versus Reason

At the chance arrival of reason,
the shy chick of sorrow trembled.

She was preparing for a long winter sleep,
in a dungeon, wired to blow at slightest of disturbance.

Reason always arrived with a plan,
something sorrow detested.

Now reason had a chance,
and nay, chick wasn't ready to relent.

Sorrow faced a hard battle,
in front of dungeons of the mind.

Reason refused to let the chick prevail,
but dungeon master had other plans.

Now the bodice of nature waits,
for this noble war to be done.

To see if it is sorrow,
or reason that the dungeon master won.

~ Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Friday, 10 August 2012

Pieces of Love...

Let there be some ashes
let there be some salt from the shores
let there be someplace where the beasts
of head can work their chores...

Well the fracture in gratitude,
the pieces of love flying with the many winds;
He just wandered amongst the carrions,
he bound in chains, sings...

One more piece of love,
flies across the sands and fire...

One more piece of love,
sinks in the criminal torpedo...

Mysterious, the hate, and the scorn,
mysterious, the nuisance of men,
mysterious the simple pieces of broken love
and the minds of aged men...

Let there be some fliers,
advert the subverted cries,
let there sound some voices,
subvert the prejudice...

Let there be a video,
a song for the pieces of love...
Let there be an artist,
who stuck the broken things...

One more piece of love,
lying on the road...

One more piece of love,
hidden by the town...

There is a lot of time to think,
there is a lot of time to die,
there is a lot of time to defy,
and be lost alone in the gale...

There is a time for staring,
and a time for gazing past,
it is not the same time,
where perverted are the rhymes...

One more piece of love,
crawls under the skin of night...

One more piece of love,
stamped upon, on the busy road...

The tears of lonely lives,
mindless gawking at empty clouds,
dumped under ages of lies,
another piece of love - broken in time...

There can only be so many piece lying around,
and still I find a new one, all the time...

One more piece of love here,
after all here it lies...

- Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Friday, 6 July 2012

Death of a Butterfly.

A tearful eye, at the fall of a butterfly.
I am heart broken, for today, a yellow butterfly bid goodbye…
I am much sad, laden with a heavy heart,
There is no joy in killing a butterfly…

I killed for I heard the thud on my helmet’s side,
On the black road, where vehicles swift, passed me by;
I wore it to protect me, from the dust and tractor’s tire,
And so, I abetted an innocent crime.

Tell me what joy one could find when,
Tractors don’t hit me, but a yellow butterfly…

 - Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Monday, 25 June 2012

Whispers in the Dreams...

And while there stands a countenance well received and content,
the turmoil underneath oft goes unnoticed...
Is it a gift, to bear witness to such trauma as none can see?
It is a gift to be so sure of nothingness, and have no calling?
Is it a gift to be unnerved by the meaninglessness of our mundane pursuits?

Or curses be these which one should hardly receive?

One doesn't see beyond the curtains of success,
yet some see and remain in denial...

One doesn't see beyond the immediate gratification,
yet some feel and numb it with pain-killers and gluttony...

One can see all the depth,
and all the darkness,
and in Nietzsche's words something sinister surely looks back...

You simply can not converse with death,
and feel alive at your daily tasks...

What is it to be a man?
What is it to be alive?
The cause, the effect, the dream, the ambition...

All but not with-holding the strands of time...

If at all I can see a dream come true,
there is yet one dream to dream and feel alive,
the dream where in paradise of true love and flowers,
you sit and watch upon the canvas of nature,
the artists dance away,
paint their ideas,
and in those ideas,
the experiences rest,
and you in front,

Such wondrous life can be in the briefest of moments,
but that has far too often been lost in the busy deliberations of the day,
and oft afternoon you rest,
sipping expensive coffee,
come home,
listen to everybody's woes,
yet see no escape from a disturbed sleep...

Often in those moments a song puts you to rest,
and in dreams someone whispers,
There are many poisons in the world...
None more scarier than ambitious dreams...
None more vile than obsessions over themes...

- Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Friday, 1 June 2012

Preying on Your Smile...

A lonely boy standing,
His back against the wall,
And there is a lone vulture absconding,
Waiting for its prey to fall…

Now hear his sound, oh people,
And learn from this wolf-child,
Who spent his days discerning,
Whats in it for the wild…

You may stop him from screaming,
But you won’t forget what was silenced and held foul…

There is just so much different to do in this world,
Yet we linger with our smiles, longing a different life…

They wait for you to reach your prime, my brother,
So they can cut you through the side,
They wait like that lonesome vulture,
Preying on your smile, oh brother,
Don’t smile…

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Monday, 21 May 2012


Here in the deepest of chaos, I lie,

Just a harmony, submission, and patience.

The willful angst, and the anxious wait,
come pain and allow me to slither in your arms.

Mother, I wait, mother I wait,
I wait.

I am patient,
and I can see.

Humbled, yet repetitively used, 'I' still.

Grander designs, I see,
I witness the follies,
and believe I am what I see.

What I feel...

Still, synchronised, I sleep,
and dream,
mother, I wait.

For the embrace,
wrongfully seized.

Sunday, 6 May 2012


Drenched by the very air,
clouds hovering, smooth,

Through the hollow bamboo,
nature blows its flute,
wood stock,
small footsteps...

Twig breaks underneath,
wriggling ants,
tirelessly flowing fog,
mist on the wood's resting bed...

Mud and leaves make no difference,
all is one, clouds beneath,
rain under,
winds all over...

Open, open, open wide,
fall upon the ground...

Eight, the shooting stars,
seven the nectar,
three the leaf-less trees,
two the minds,
half demonized,
half angelic,
and a single soul,



- Karthik Adithya Singaraju