A Walk down the hallway...

Here walking down the hallway,
wearing casts, weighed down by the mask...
The little yellow glitter of the gloomy lamp,
shining blood-like, dull and ominous...

The limbs, all bleeding, buckling under the tales,
stories of happenings, unknown there in gargoyle
guarded homes...

Standing erect, inspite of cuts and bruises,
inspite of the swollen wounds, oozing liquids,
devil's own. Satanic pain searing through the body,
and a darkness consuming the long hallway,
and yet, walking down the hallway...

The chilling silence, and the echo of footsteps,
driving sanity away, along with the gaze, into that distance...
And down that hall, yet, with all earnest attempts,
succeeding to stand up yet again, after a failed attempt
to catch back the fast losing sound.

Once stood up,
the walk continues,
as if it never stopped,
with a dying yellow light of a candle;
and dark distance to traverse, that
in darkness remains...

Karthik Adithya Singaraju

The Kid with mismatched gloves...

I am a kid, a little one at that,
with a pair of mismatched gloves,
and a cap, tad smaller than my scalp.

I tried to do away,
be done with whatever I had to,
with my lunatic rant,
but then again, couldn't help...

I wear an overlarge sweater,
which protects my insides,
from a cold place I got to survive.

I am just a guy, with a torn jeans,
unsure which way to go, to make it fit right.
I tell you, things are distasteful,
and they freak people out.

But then again, I figured,
in my clumsy movements,
there lied what Emily tried to describe,
before she died.

You know, it is very funny,
that after all this time,
while I tried to figure what is wrong,
on the outside,
it turns, it was my turn,
to push it all aside.

Move away, lock in the corners,
warm in their cold comfort,
huddled, where I could meditate,
and there wouldn't be any bug,
or even a beautiful butterfly,
feeding on the sack of fungus,
rich and ripe.

Then again,
I was just a kid from some corner,
with mismatched gloves,
noone would ever try...


© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Where it never snows...

There goes the carrion cries, ever elegant...
And thence the vulture,
the monster scavenging upon the passed...
And there goes the wild albatross,
flying over the horizon,
and the seagulls' crying,
bidding a warm farewell to the sun,
who leaves, having finished his day's work...
The peacock is flaunting its hue,
and the owl waking up...

All in their place,
but a young flightless penguin...
In the rocks of tropics rejected,
searches hopelessly for snow,
and the warmth of its cold...

Little does he know,
tropics are empty,
and he is there,
flightless,
where it never snows...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Another Beginning...

And this is yet another start,

another beginning.

Everyone say wait,

everyone warn and advice patience.

And I start eyes wide open, and catch the bait.



But this is YET another start,

just a beginning.

Nothing to lose, nothing to regret,

just a shoved set of memories,

and a new tread ahead.



Since this is yet ANOTHER start,

again a beginning,

excited, though nervous and with doubt,

nevertheless knowing that, all never goes waste,

everything reaches some place, just the same.



Great anticipation, and yet not,

without a little facet dark,


I venture to begin the beginning of the Start.

CopyRight - Karthik Adithya Singaraju

I wish, I wish...

If the smiles meant all,
and the little shiver,
a nervous trepidation,
a little shudder, and the
yanking of shoulders, all
reminiscent of a silent appeal...

Then Yes, I wish the same, but
wait, pause, listen to the
silent song...

Too late? Too late?
I wonder if I do not mistake...
Too late? Is that what everyone says?

Where does it take you from here,
where does it take me from nowhere?

What happens to those years spent,
where nurtured was the trust, and
now wrongly spent?

Where do you place,
which is the closet?

What is the hideout,
where you place your self?

Nay, the tears tore through the flesh of my ego,
and the sorrow tore through this stone...
I did wait, I did wish,
I did pray to make things better,
and leave scorn and disdain...

But then is it in our hands?

Have the things left our grasp?
Have they gone so into the grasps of
the few, for whom, this is naught save
some gossip and a little news or some sort of game?

I thought it was different,
I thought it wasn't just the same,
I thought it mattered,
what happened, and what led that
fragile bond to lie in such shame...

I wish, I wish,
I wish I didn't see your tears,
and I wish again,
all said and all passed,
we remain all the same...

That after that dreadful season past,
we get back to where we rightfully remain...

I wish, I wish,
there were more rains of laughter,
and not of such pain...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

What really matters...

Forever running, panting, gasping,
struggling to keep on the feet,
wobbling limbs, tired of the race,
with all but a mirage called goal,
where the eyes set, even though
it seems to flow in the vision, like the smoke
clouding the reason of its non-existence...

Long long run, a marathon, an endurance trip,
around the long winding paths, taking so many
hours out of life chasing that mirage or the dream...

While running, once I paused,
rather someone stopped me,
asked me to stop panting,
catch a breath, have a drink,
and look around, and there,
in that instant, I saw, what eluded me,
due to my chase...

Around me, before me, behind me,
beside me, above me, below me,
I saw, there was such abundance,
abundance of love and abundance of
friendship, abundance of beauty, and
of harmony.. Tranquil, reposing onlooking
audience,which suddenly felt more dear,
more important than the petty goal...
Goal diminished, it became more of a mirage now,
than it had ever been...

I had their sympathies,
and I had their love,
but then again came a doubt,
would it have existed, if I were
not in this chase, and then I realised,
there is a long long way to go...

So I got up, smiled,
and started running again,
but this time around, taking note of what
I have and what is around me,
lest goal never attained,
the race seem worthless,
I realised,
there is the journey,
and journey is what matters...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

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