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

Saturday, 21 April 2012

Celestial Fantasies...

The naked stars imagined,
with rested beauty of celestial fantasies,
were but dangling onto a thread of myth,
or was it just me,
too sober,
to ignore the beauty,
and worry of basal bloops?

entrapped in the skilled weaving of the web,
and how can a hunter escape,
inept as he was,
in - from the web woven across his sides,
laterally and more so bound,
he waits...

Something is wrong,
the distortion far too great,
and mess far too simple,
and where but solution within his head lingers,
like the stars
dangling from a rusted sky of no moon...

Yet, suddenly,
he wakes,
looks at the brightening skies,
he wonders where was the light,
when he wept last night...

The dried web, lies tattered,
and he bemused,
takes off to the mountain top,
from where with a orange courtesy,
bloodied orb rises...

While returning from his sunrise,
fore noon,
he chances a sight,
a sight which pauses all time,
and all that seems to pass,
he finds a frail white bird dangling like Floyd's albatross,
yet with motion,
flapping wings,
moving nowhere,
rooted to the spot in the immediate pale sky...

Was it beautiful,
or just a plain marvel,
he wonders...

He wonders what really is beauty,
that stimulates,
then he ponders on the sky,
where gravity defying -
hovered a bird,
and turned back...

Darkness had returned, and with it,
his shackles and his ties....

He mourns the day, he wove,
as the ghost of web had never passed,
ever haunting the bland night sky,
and he looks up again,
beyond the contour of darkened leaves,
and there lie,
the celestial fantasies,
falling one at a time...

- Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Ode to Nothingness...

There is nothing...
Nothing to seek,
nothing to find,
nothing to explore,
there is just nothing,
nothing of nothingness...
There is no haste
nor necessity
to chase,
to wanton,
to desire...

There is no meaning,
no answers,
no equations to solve...
There is no beginning,
there is no end
that a man's mind can contemplate...

There is no God a man can define,
there is no Aadi,
there is no Anth,
there is but only
fluid consistency of nothingness...

True peace exists,
without conflict,
without doubt,
without question,
without struggle...

peace exists with nothing,
and nothing with nothingness of mind...

there is no haste,
nor necessity
to run behind anything,
because there is nothing,
just plain silence,
of a mind
with no thought
and no feel...

~ Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Sunday, 1 April 2012

Desolate Verse...

Desolate chambers,
With pictures, ghosts in mind,
Chamber sleep to the silent music
of the woman who seems to be in pain,
And I wait, slow drumbeat,
Thunder, storm,
Come, Come fast!
And I shout, mute silent scream,
Inside, with a small thirsty knot inside,
Words flowing unto the brink yet falling,
As though water in a low pressure tube,
Hollow cough, drought,
Intrigue, and the flow pauses,
You wonder, dried hands, emptied isolation,
If your fight, in that struggle,
it is isolation you seek,
Music flows seamlessly,
In a strange and distant song,
And in the clouds of smoke,
You sit pondering…
Life passes by…
You stare, vacant eyes,
Vacant voice,
Desolate life…
Desolate chambers,
Desolate lie…

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju