When all hope fades...

When deranged on a lonely winter's night
when those winds blow backward,
your face,swept off its guard,
by those pains unsaid,
and those points that had clung...
When your soul sings,
ideas that pulverize your being...

Oh! my dear friend!,
then,when all seems black and cold,
that is when,you ought to rise,
and sit beside a hot hearth made of coal...

Your heart shall be that hearth,
which shalt give you your warmth...

Then,in the absence of any hope,
your friend,that unforgiving light,
your smile,my friend,your smile shall give
you,your life,back to your soul...

You may be deranged in your senses,
your limbs and your heart,maybe
numbed by chilly waves that sting...
But,tell me what good is in thinking
you lack that,which is free...

'cause,when every price has been paid,
you will see my friend,
that its time that you let go,
of the chains and shackles that you're in...

It will be then,that,in your life,
which is a dream,you'll see,
how strange it is,to be alive at all...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Bend down from heaven...

Sweet Lady in the heaven,
if a place as such exists...
Thee see o'erhead,our blue planet,
gay beauty,a sight divine,
fatal sorrow in the hours of dismay...

Have you seen our tiny home,
have you my Lady,witnessed the pathos that remains..?
Atrociously morose,aye,this earthling sounds,
but what shall Ye know,
hiding behind that glowing shadow?

Have you,my divine Goddess,
ever witnessed,
the gap between good and evil,so digressed?
Have the dew and honey,
kept you so busy,
that you didn't have a second,
to see something red and tasting bitter?

Has your nice abode,
remained so compelling,
that the fatal reality down here,
evaded your beautiful feelings?

Its been too long,
I ask this of you,
bow your head once and look down on what's true...
You may have to bend down a bit,
but my Goddess,trust me on this,
you would want to know...

You would want to know,
what has become of your 'noble' sons,
who were thinking once,
but are now incensed...

They shall regret,I am sure,
for the blood and oil that
they have wrongfully spilled..

Mountains made porous
with their tunnels too deep,
forests green and oceans blue,
blackened by their fire and filth...

Ye may know,my Lady!,
Ye may have a trick up your sleeve,
I am sure ye may teach your sons,
a chapter in sensibility...

I rest my pen,
another remorseless son,
begging at your feet...
Teach me and my brothers,
the value of our wealth,
teach my family,
red,black,brown,yellow,white
and every other colour under the sun,
that they might like...

Teach those brothers of mine,
who call you,with faith,
but maybe differently in their ways...

Teach us all,
that chapter of the sinful filth of unthinking greed...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Few Observations...

Expressions are best formed in the most profoundly penetrating silences. Its a remarkable irony that the communication of one's thoughts,ideas and dreams come in most marvellously in solitude.
It greatly interests me,the judgements one comes across,even about himself as well as others. The way,a seemingly close-to-heart friends may even turn hostile the moment,the other person walks away.
Paradoxical neture,hypocrisy in thoughts and incongruency in actions. It is an amazingly incredible amalgam of contradictions that we come across in the midst of our wrongly accredited,or rather self-styled order of "civilization".
All humanly reactions and behavioural activities are perceived unnatural to such an extent,that people may even be blamed to suffer issues,but what one fails to notice is that,once placed in such situation,which may drive extremities in reactions,every nine and half individuals out of ten may react more or less,in a similar fashion,if not worse.
The very concept of empathising is lost in oblivion due to stark and non-uniform judgementalism that prevails over and more than often,over-rules human conscience.
Tolerance for a person's flaws is over-ruled by magnified dosage of negative sense of ego.
All things said and done,and existent;but still such an exemplary sense of self-worth prevails amongst the ignominiously deviant people,which though to an extent admirable,but beyond a certain limit,become an undesirable persistant drawback.
It is but alarming as well as intriguing that we humans are such a bundle of contradictions.
All that I could infer is that,we really have a long way to go before our superficiality is shed and we become a tolerant,mature and meaningful "civilization".

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

What say??!!

Is it so true,
the cry of that nightingale?

Is it so majestic,
the power of the whirling cloud?

Is it so intense,
the magic of those west winds?

Everything,that captured the imagination,
of the most imaginative of our kind...
All those flowing whispers,
all those things said and proclaimed beautiful...

Those smiles of the fair lady,
those slender curves of the country maiden...

Its all in the beauty,
it did catch our eyes,minds and pens...

What of those endless tears?
What of those flowing sand dunes,
thorny barren lands,
what of those cracks,what of those
stones,razor sharp??

What of the red coloured fields?
what of the imprisoned slaves?
What say,to remember your flaws?
What say,look at your ugly side?

What say,you stop pretending,
what say,you stop ignoring,
what say,you stop bragging?

What say,you own up?
What say,we shed a tear?

All things beautiful,said and done,
what say,lets wrap a clothe around our,
red blood fun???

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

White pale fall...

Elsewhere it said,justice is free...
Elsewhere it said,
truth is justice...
But down there,
it changed its speech...
There,down that road,
it changed it speed...
It ran faster,
blur to a naked eye,that cycle...
Elsewhere,it slowed down,that screeching wheel...

That little angel,wants to be free...
That little mermaid,stranded,
in its own sea...

Freedom,yet holds a meaning to that heart,
justice,still is believed to be free...

She,that young soul,
comes and says,
'justice is free,and not for one,but for all'...

But,she that poor soul,
has lost her mother at the age of three...

I witness,this parody that God plays on us,
and wonder,
whether to believe in her spirit,
or just aimlessly flee...

Because,I feel,there,at the end of the day,
I see,
all of us are but,like that little mermaid,
stranded in its own sea...

We all fight,
to break those shackles,
wrench those chains,
but I don't see,
winners,who changed this scene...

They have come and gone,
often remembered,
mostly forgotten...

But the world has remained,
still the same...

But I guess,
I will live on,this way...
There won't be white pale fall on my soul...
And somehow,though I don't know if the world is gonna change,
I know that,my heart won't surrender...

It will keep on struggling like a fish in that net,
till my last breath,
but it wouldn't surrender...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Thorns of Destiny...

And so all was said and done...
Things stood quite still for a moment...
The lady who spoke for so long,paused,
catching her breath,gulping down a few drops of water...
Now it waited,the long wait,
the wait of response....
It waited desperately,
the second's thorn of revolving destiny,
it waited yearning for man to perform a miracle,
in the unforgiving stillness of that moment...

All was silence,
with those heads bowed down,
with weight some,
some with pain some more,
some with deliberation,
and some for the sake of it...

Silence,silence that pierced through the hearts of those hundreds standing,
silence that thundered hard,
harder than the hardest thunder...
Silence,that was instilled by her voice...

Everyone,bowed their head,
out of shame,
pain,grief and lamentation...
Some lifted with a quiet decisiveness,which instilled hope...

One or two let out a small syllable of hope...

With this cue,the thorn of destiny,moved on...
The thorn,the quill,the arm of time,
it went ahead,and proclaimed with assurance,
telling to those masses,that change has come...

Lady smiled,
but oh! Alas!
The circling karma of man,
the cycle of human complacency...

The shamefaced bowing heads lifted with the next second,
they pressed down the heads,far lifted...
Scattered voices of hope were extinguished in another second...
And in the next the common man's hope...

Second moved on,
sighing the inevitable hopelessness...
The crowd moved on,
impervious to the wet blood...
The shamefaced rose again...

Another massacre occurred,
and the wise Lady came up,
to voice across their shame...

And in an instant,all was still...
And the game again,began...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Their Story...

Caressing her daughter and hugging her,
her mother assured that everything was fine...

The sack on her back had gotten lighter,
the weight in her arms lighter,
and pain in her heart not so lucky...

But she smiled,as they had walked a long way.
It had been days since her husband died,
it had been days since she conspired...

They had fled,these desperate lot...
They had come into the forest,green and hot...
They had walked miles,
they had slept not...

For days only rest was an hour under a tree...
Now they were near,
near that fence...
Where freedom lay,was said in a sense...

Noone knew what freedom was like,
for they hadn't met it since a long age...
She wondered what lay beyond that wire,
where every grass was green,
and every stone sapphire...

They slept that day under the bough...
The girl rested on the lap of her mother...

Next morning they set out to see the trench,
that was dug to divide freedom from their stench...
They climbed into the ditch,which meant to divide,
and cut through the fence which was sharp and wide...

They set their tools as they entered freedom,
and rejoiced out there,beyond the stench of ditch...

They sang their triumph in reaching their goal,
but a girl cried aloud amidst their celebration...

And motor van came ahead,to face them on the road...
And down came the guns and knives they had left home...

After fifteen seconds of clamour and clicks,
was left this girl and a few more kids...

The guns and knives took them in,
and left their mothers and fathers,
fallen in the bin...

They took them they said to a land unknown,
and traded their flesh for gold and stone....

This is the story,
of the people who sought him,
who promised to be there,
beyond the fence...

Now I guess,that is what is life...
They did find him,
when they passed, away from sin...
They found him in a pool of crimson ink...
They found him,
the one who called himself in their stories 'freedom'...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju