Sonnet to Hatred...

There is much hate,
yes,there is much hate...
You would like to believe,
have faith, trust your brothers...

You would like to know,
understand the love yonder...
Amongst the stoney heartless souls,
there does lie tender love and faith,or so I hope...

There in the darkness of starry nights,
here in the smokey caverns of burning desire,
you would love to know, there is,
much more than what is concretely shown...

But then again, I find myself alone,
and in daylight,I find, there is much hate...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Cocoon Coffins...

All everything existent is empty and meaningless,
and we just sit, seeking explanation,
to the countless questions we want to ask,
but can't seem to just let out...

Alone, huddled into a corner,
a snowball of cold empty frozen tears...
Unheard and never sought,
all in a while we end up losing touch...

You know your tears,
you stop knowing what is the reason?
Reason no longer seems reasonable...
Things have moved ahead,
far beyond our reach,and yet we are still there...

Still there, in that small cocoon,
a silken thread of tender feelings in which,
huddled is that small child,
whom we have kept, forcibly away from prying eyes,
trying to put up a brave-face...

Fiercely smiling, marching ahead,
trying in earnest to strike balance...

After all, easiest way out
is as a butterfly out of that cocoon,
a butterfly of many shapes,
sizes, colours, and styles,
each beautiful to its own beholder,
yet yet, for some butterflies,
things don't or haven't gone smooth,
sometimes cocoons get too tough,
and somehow that small little beauty dies,
forgotten inside, killed by its own impositions...

And all thats out,left to be judged by the facets of mystery,
all that can be sung of in Psalms of Life,
are just blackened mounds of coffins,
and the epitaphs of pain...

All that is left in this morning world is,
dead little butterflies and moving mounds of lifeless mirth...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Sonnet to the Remnant Soot...

And in the wisps of the remnant soot,
the vapourised dew of hopeful wings,
silence and a calm cool breeze,
thoughtless levitating mind, lingering on,
in the dark cloudy velvet above...

Darkness and a calm cool breeze,
and you walk on deserted streets,
shivering slightly out of the lonely cold...

And all that remain are questions,
doubts and quite desperation born
of such fateful concoction brewed in life
and its meandering streets of confusion...

Sounds like, the midnight's dream has taken over,
and all that thoughts possess are phantoms of remnant soot...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Alchemical Ritual...

Master's alchemy, and mistress' spirited speech.
Upon the altar, a sacrificial lamb,
metal, fire and unending greed...
Blood spurting into shadowy scripts,
illuminated by watery puddle of blue light.

Cloaks are stained and torn, after the hateful tug;
A single glistening sheet of platinum,
turns crimson an instant hence...
All eyes curve, some in horror,
some in awe,some else as well, in ambition.

And suddenly altar's crimson puddle is struck,
a thunder of blinding light, burns
smoke, white as an ocean of milk...
Traces thence, even of ashes are lost,
in the fateful alchemical ritual.

After all, final truth is what was sought...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju