Oxymorons of Perception...

There are no fairies,
far the fairy tales...
There are no heroes,
far the heroics...
There are no sages,
far the miracles...

There are just men,
and just the mundane...

There is no ordinary person,
there is no extraordinary...
The soul,the spirit,
there is nothing at all...

A bliss flowing through the chasms,
and those fires,and waves of ballads,
unsung for a long time,forgotten...
Miracle,it is there everywhere...
Miracle,it is nowhere...

All pervading,non existing...
You all look at Light,
some smile,some laugh,
yet others frown and close their eyes...
It is in that light...

You feel darkness,
within and without,yonder,
but there is a flame which but flares
in that plight...
Some are blind,others blinded,
it is there,lurking as a shadow...

Darkness shadows the light,
and this flame shadows the shadow...
Yes,it is there,and it isn't...

After all,it is what you see,
and seeing is believing...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Address to Goliath of my Legion...

You say hi today, and the next,
you hear byes,goodbyes...
Today night you sleep,
you imagine yourself having a smile of peace...
And tomorrow Ye wake up...
And find empty farewells on your day's periods...
A voice inside my head speaks,
says all that has been,and shall be,
within your reach is incomplete my lad...
I survived against the tides,
of despondence and sorrow,
but truly,I see all that I felt true to,
follows me down,to the Valley of Doom...
Roses sprung through the thorns they say,
but noone thought,those thorns tore those
very blooming sweet roses...
Ye sing my song,oh twilight rays,
Ye sing my song,the dying thunders of ending rains...
That umbrella of protection,
from dampness and gloom...
Has but been forgotten,
torn amidst those fences erected in the middle of the road,
and I sat behind that wrongful wall,
wondering at my blinded faith,
and at those disillusioned dreadful wraiths...
The swords of those mighty have fallen accord
with the order of the sighted few,
who survived...
But Goliath of my Legion,
know this,and vow to make others know this,
Achilles also had his ankle,
and Ajax his rage,
Ulysses hath his age deceived,
and all fallen to gloom and immortality...
And so,have I bent down to inevitability of fate,
with my unseconded and now broken faith...
Now I believe,all you can create is,your journey,
and you shalt never besiege another soul,to share the realm,
that meant to be your path,and
thou shalt never intrude,
the realms of those who live behind the
Mighty Walls of Troy,
Troy of their heart...
A war won deceived,
is war not won at all...
And hence,thy servant perceivest this truth,
and at this hour,accepts and lays down contended,
contemplating his loss...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Vagabonds and the Highway...

I see him and her walking past...
I can see them walking past...
I can see everyone walking past...
Yes,I was here long before,
I remained here when everyone else learnt to walk
and now they run,run fast,agility evident,
thirst to suck the life out of their time,
everyone runs...
Everyone competent from humble beginnings,
competent in their present positions...
All fast vibrant entities...
Purpose,goal and direction,
all set their wheels in motion...
I seem to be stuck,in this quagmire,
my own impeding mind...
I am not moving,
Have become a bystander,
on that long lonely highway,
who realises that no vehicle stops here forever,
for you...
All move on,
none wait,none bother,in this fast road,
if other vehicle moves or not...
I for now have become that vehicle whose engine
doesn't talk...
Hoped that those who stop,
those who stopped by,
remain and help me get a move on...
But now I see,none shall stop for you,
none was meant to do so...
I if have to make a journey,
have to do it myself...
On a Highway,I am but a Vagabond,
of no home,no friends, no noone...
And vagabonds make a journey of their own,
or perish stagnant as bystanders...
Now I see,those who stopped longest,who came from behind,
those who have been here and making journey further,
all driving at greater speeds,while I wait
hoping some will provide me with reparation and lifeline...
Ah,foolish me,this impertinent stagnancy is taking its toll,
stayed stationary long enough,
I wish now to get a move on..
Highway is for Vagabond to travel,
and this chapter taught,
will serve me well I believe...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Sonnet at Dusk...

Sounds of treason echoing your dread,
mind and thy heart hanging by that thread...
And I see,that person reach out screaming,
altering the voice,and the meaning...

Gauging the waters,have I stayed at beach so long,
depths of those oceans,never felt or written into my song...
Distant echo of a hollow sound,
and cruel reality of the blackened mound...

Greater truth laid down by your way,
but the stubborn fearful mind refuses to sway...
And I gasp for breath with a song in my heart,
which asks for deliverance through this burning art...

God helps those,who listened to what he said,
and went their way,in time, realising it was all in their head...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Alchemy of Mind...

Words,the literary ether,
the life in the forest of humanity...
I still remember those days,
sitting down in the cozy dark corner,
with a book in hand,
shifting slightly,whenever a leaf turned...
Or else,those rain-drenched nights,
where you lay,with a warm blanket,
turning either sides,
at the turn of each page...
A book,a paper,
a friend,whom you carried around...
That friend,whose presence
made the most weary lecture,
pleasurable...
The physical proximity,
the lexical connection,
the informal extension of formal existence...
Under the glares of commuters,
beneath the blaring traffic,
beyond the rising lead,
in that dilapidated rocky bus,
Ye helped me find solace...
Transported to magical realms of Middle Earth,
riding with Harry on the centaur,
or maybe talking to Sapphira,the blue dragon...
You never left me to despair in harsh poison of reality...
My lungs burnt less in that smoke,where
my mind so carelessly soared...
Then when,it was time to come back,
and give the earthly pleasures a thought,
Wordsworth,showed Words' worth...
I know of England,I know of its flowers,
I know of Khashi,and its incessant showers...
I know,not because I have seen them in day,
but because I have flown over them,while it was just here that I always stayed...
And then there came Chaucer and Pope,
bringing with them Renaissance and its hope...
And Coleridge passed silently by,
with Keats leaping about,
singing what he knew on earth,
and then they passed by...
Sinister mind of Hitler,
and cold intellect of Kipling passed,
Shirley and Yeats,barely surpassed...
And when these poets and writers departed,
taking Europe and States,and Asia with them,
I sat conversing with my thoughts undefined,
till there came a stroke of unknown design...
Formed into words,were my mind's dances refined,
Structured have I this poetry with humility,
as an Ode for the Divine...
Singing the glories of the thoughts of those wild,
and mourning the progress we men made so mild,
I take your leave hoping for a miracle,and thus I resign...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Meditation on Yared's Violins...

The cold pressure of the fan,
Yared's violins in my ear...
I look through the pages inside...

The pen in my hand,rests...
It has a blank page to fill...
Searching,earnestly,my mind,
switches to faster speed...

Drums are beating,
mourning the death,
and the tempo lowers...

Yes,Yared agrees,
hero is gone...
Elegiac tunes echo in piano...

Woman,clad in black,
a single tear on her cheek,looks...
A silence,
mute,dark,smooth silence...

A silence whose music,
remains unparalleled,save by the slow retreat
of that long bow over violin chords...

Yes,I am listening,
intent meditation on the stringed God,
and I wonder at the miracle...

You see,silence engulfs the music,
music engulfs the silence...
And I float in that ether,
raised...
Silence and sound,divine synonyms,
brought to my mind...

The slow lament finishes,
Yared rests,and I see,
my page filled...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju