I see...

With patience I see,
I have answers to come,
with virtue of pain,
it seems comes happiness,
with the conception of hurt,
comes greater things to rejoice...

To demand things,
which haven't yet conceived,
tomfoolery at it best,
and to ask for things to rush in,
plain ignorance of the ways...

This known, I rest,
this known, I feel all that happens,
happens for the best...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Never Ending Chase...

And I trotted, swiftly,
again and again, and again,
in circles, in a continuous motion,
I trotted away,
again and again, and again, in circles...

Then I stopped, and you trotted away,
away, and more farther, all I could say was,
you trotted away, far away...

I tried to follow, pursue,
caught up, but then couldn't reach just as yet,
as I again followed,
ran this time around,
but it was all like a
Beaver in a bowl,
round and round and round...

I gnashed against the wheels,
sick of the movement,
yet never reaching,
I got sick of all the energy,
spent in earnest, and I sat down,
tired, and frustrated with the never ending chase...

Too tired, I didn't look up,
I didn't want to see,because
I knew, I knew what lay in front...

I knew, it was a silhouette ever diminishing
before me, so I refused to look up,
I said nay,leave me be...

But then again, I ventured, later,
as a minute passed into the scene,
I looked up,
and I still wonder what is it that I see...?

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Path of Doom...

The gaunt pallor in the reeking mess,
the haunted spirit and the spirited fest...

On those deathless eyes, one can see,
watch the screaming bloodshot cries...

The flesh and bone of life,
all eaten away by the forces,
all left but ruined mass of dust...

The smoke rising from the veils
adorned by the ghostly presence,
the light burning in the wakeful watch,
and the ghastly drifting of a soulless mass...

In the darkness of hellish pits,
where the fires of dead passions lie,
untold and unseen, this spirit drifts...

Prodded as in life and so in death,
by the stabs of the unfair wrath,
ever on the path of doom,
the wraith walks its path...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Silence at the Sea...

Things have changed,
times have passed,
once all low and blue,
now calm and new....

The vociferous cries have muffled,
buckled under their own weight,
while the calmer balm of respite
applies itself over the wound...

Now mind rests, silent, without,
within its own little shack of thoughts...
Heart seems to be at ease,
nay, just tired, no longer in pain,
as the little fluttering has taken its toll...

Now everything remains calm,
restful repose...

Calm?

Wait calm is good,
and good is not present,
so calm indeed might not be
the word you see...

Aye, now I see,
it is the silence that I mistook
for calmness you see...

Honest mistake,
disgruntled turbulence is lost,
and such abundance is seen,
such silence like a ship
marooned at the sea...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Sonnet to The Eyelid...

It waited hidden while its friend sees the world,
dancing, flickering, turning here and thence...

It waits folded, alone,
invisible to else,
while its friend shows off,
the beautiful self...

It shields its friend from harsh biting light,
it shields its friend from the dirt and smite...

It helps its friend cope with the chilly winds,
it nests its friend and
becomes a blanket when it sleeps...

To the eye which sees the world,
it is but the ugly eyelid,
ever present but never seen...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

"Yes, I understand and I know..."

Things are clearer,
I can see them like radium,
glowing,sinister in the darkness...

All the hard matter has withered,
ashes, ashes, ashes,
blackened brush of Almighty art...

The bristles, dark reminders of
the prickling pain, inconceivable...
The paint,
soot burnt away in the fires,
in the passions untold, and the emotions
unexpressed..
Wettened by the untold feeling of loss...

And all that He could whip up
in his aesthetic hand for me,
was just a little blotch,
and I just had to make peace with Him,
the one who can't be mistaken,
I just had to say,
"Yes, I understand and I know..."

***************

And the moment when that was said,
something inside died, something tender,
something timid enough to last out till the last,
waiting, hoping I would look at it once again,
but for Him I agreed to slay,
kill the 'me' - bereft of hope,
inside me...

Always forgotten, and now dead...

And no matter how hard I try,
something tells me,
it will never come back,
and turning back one last time,
He says, "Yes, I understand and I know..."

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Hiatus of My Disconcerted Brain...

There is a pain in the voice,
and there is a little hitch and an ache...
But words seem to flow away...

There is a voice restrained,
which bursts on my wake,
and the hole seems to gap...

What's written, and what is tried,
what is known and what is lied,
its all there hidden deep inside...

And when I try to simply let it go,
and all I yearn to is find pain no more,
it always comes back ever more so...

The many days, the many times,
we had shared that moment's light,
and all that I wished was never to say
good bye...

But it points out glaring all the same,
the hiatus of my disconcerted brain...
That I miss the feeling I had found,
all I see is missing void and sounds...

Talk to me,
tell me why,
all that remains with me is a memory deep inside,
that I wish...never to let go...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

The Kid who never grew...

The weight of what I do...


I walk a path of shards,
of pointed bleeding pieces,
piercing through the pale
flesh, bloodless and haunted
of thought, of that fearful memory...

The weight of what I do...

Its a sharp arrow, I seek,
the glistening metal pointing-
threatening to tear apart what
little clothe covers, dusky and
rendered porous by the target practice...

The weight of what I do....

It stays there, laughing,
and I standing there, weak,
knobbly at the knees, smile,
a little weak flutter of fear,
and of hope, and what else is
there...

The weight of what I do, and
the left-overs of the kid who never grew...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Wet Feet - An Ode to A New Journey...

Leaving, the shores that pleasantly waved goodbye...

Sickness, grief and a tumult of fear,

wilderness, the undergrowth, which was left unchecked...



I did perceive competence,

and now remark, review the damage of misconception...



Waves have hit the shore,

sands wettened, but stay put,

though all thats engraved,is erased...



A little photograph,

a little memory,

a sand castle,

and a few wet feet...



Now castle is gone, sand remains,

empty and bereft of the shape,

which moulding hands had so patiently made...



Now the feet are dry,

and the beach clean,

with no little blister, on its surface to be seen...



Beach was clean, neat,

waves washing it everyday,

a pleasant sight indeed,

but I have left,

no longer in love with the scene...



No longer are my feet wet,

though I am at the sea...



© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Impending Fall...

There is a lone tree,

half its roots coming out of the loose soil in the promontory...

Well it seems to be a powerful one,

a girth as wide and majestic, as would proclaim a kingly feel...



The tree, it is visible,

very close, but a little ahead,

a little beyond the reach,

slowly ebbing away...



The whole dusk, in which it is visible,

a pale shadow, of past and present,

and a pale hue of future...

Smoke rises, it has been doing so,

ever since those very many quakes shook the little place...



The silent stream of water,

now a swamp, then a river,

silent, ghastly silence...

Something terrible has happened,

because though overtly strong and imposing,

it seems there is an overwhelming sea of deathly presence,

a foreboding phenomenon surrounding the tree...



Smoke is not rising,

but it floats sideways...

it doesn't seem to be from a fire,

as fire is life,

and life is an absentee...



I move closer, to get a better look...

The fog, the blanket token of death,

the smoke, rising here and there,

and carried into the east,

where still, lies darkness pervading the whole expanse...



The little stream slithers across the ground,

silently,

water is flowing, ever so slowly,

as though it is still,

and the only crests are my canoe's doing...



Down the upstream course, I travel,

to look at this tree, from which it looks as though

smoke flows into the east...



Now I am near,

and see that veiled monstrous stream,

it ever so gradually pulls down the once mighty roots,

the arteries of the dying tree...



Fog has cleared,

as I have neared the tree,

and what I see is withering leaves,

in the Crimson horizon,

flowing away silently to their fall,

floating away with the Eastern breeze,

and all the majesty seems lost,

rocked by the recent quakes...



All that remains is a dying tree,

with roots in mire,

and leaves taking the darkness' call,

and a sole living witness,

watching the tree take slowly,

the impending fall...



© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Lust for Life...

Be that beast,
be that vicious predator...
Savour, drink,
quench the never-ending thirst...

Greed, its Right!
Want, desire and lust,
the overwhelming want,
the very carnal of your feelings...

Get to their centre,
go to the core,
explore, dig deep,
to find that hidden thirst...

Be that Blood-sucking vampire,
be the Death Angel,
give life The Kiss,
the sensual overwhelming Kiss,
where you teach life,
that it is not the Master,
but you Are.

All your sensuality,
let it dance in the
midst of the unending greed
to suck the life, hidden, out of your time!

Let it roll,
do not wait for those
who keep you waiting for long...
Do not heed those who impede your impulses,
with unappealing conformity...

Be a greedy, thirsty, vicious vampire,
even in the darkest of the hours,
go out, into the darkness,
because you know there,somewhere out there,
lingers the crafty little life...

Waiting to be found,
waiting to be preyed upon...

Be the nasty predator,
who can say,
Yes, I devoured on that stealthy prey
with such greed, that now after all
that is said and done
with my time done,
my hunger is satiated,
and no little piece of grumble
no little amount of thirst,
is left, unfinished...

At your end,
let yourself say,
I was the greediest of all,
thirstiest too,
and I made the best out of my lust for life!
Leaving nothing unfinished...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju