SUDEEP ADHIKARI - POEMS

Sudeep Adhikari, from Kathmandu Nepal, is professionally a PhD in Structural-Engineering. He lives in Kathmandu with his wife and family and works as an Engineering-Consultant.  His poetry has found place in many online literary journals/magazines, the recent beingKyoto (Japan), Oddball (USA) and Red Fez (USA). 

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​                           Ice and Soul
 
On a mystic flight to cold unknown
I am the sacred will
of the creatrix’s vow
when Soul–delight
is the calligraphy
of ancient myths.
And I feel the lust
of a schizophrenic psyche-nctist
for territories
within and without
I seek unbounded boundaries
I seek something
 of Nothing.
 
At the moment
when there is no moment
I am the unconscious
of Sat-Chit-Ananda
I am the oblivion
of drunken dakinis
dancing on corpses ashes
I am time itself
timeless in time.
 
I am the formless form
of the celestial mist
constructs an arabesque
of stellar woes
pain and pleasure
basked in perfumed vase
of crystal quartz ice.
The heart is
the cosmos within
don’t cry please!
over the tessellated stars
dangling earrings
of Elysium enchantress.
 
Feel one, one and one
dream multiplicities
 multitudes and many
as I traverse the canopy
of glistening silver-blues                                            
drizzle shiver dews
like a heart-smitten
shooting star
I miss my mother infinity
I kiss void immensity;
And there you burned me deep
with your roses coal
In return
I felt you
with my thousand hearts.

​                          The Bones of Wood
 
The breathing 
of your Elysian quiet
is not the dreamscape 
of that somnambulist nymph
coloring myriad archetypes
of the most ancient soul? 
and I feel kissing you 
in between
my calcium voids.
 
As I stood at your center 
excentric and eccentric
watching the
 headless centaurs 
as they marched
along those fractal kinks 
drawn across
 the canopy of dread
colored crimson, colored blue 
all cursed by a fiery hue
and my burnt-out vesper
sculptured by
the jagged edges
of the amphitheater 
of your greenest doom. 
 
Thou !..Sibilant reptiles!
my conscious slapdashes 
of lust to be
and to belong,
they worth no shit 
when you are breathing 
the snowflakes of voids
onto my naked self
and I was crammed
in your heart
with the loneliness
 of first man
that ever walked on earth. 
 
Your loneliest green,
brushes the twilights of pain
your scalpels of fire
how they engrave the sins 
ahh! are the purest nothings
Unborn, all-abiding
Thinking man 
Oh!.. You poor kid!
you must die,
to read the poetry 
of the gaps between the lines. 
 
 

                              Holy Nothingness
 
Solitude meditates in your wilderness;
A grotesque paint of confused beams
love-struck pollens meet the stellar dust  
somehow simulate
the Brownian motion of my neurotic soul.
You are the astral trance
of the holy One.
 
A part of you, an archaic tree
speaks in whispers, whispers the silence
and stands tall
with one hand in subterranean inconscience
while the other slowly architects
the curvature of fiery arch.
A tree never dies,
So don’t you.
 
You are a malt, yeah I saw
the drunken roses
bewitched of you ;
Oh lord! they want me
to drink today
and watch the river flow
and do nothing.
A man who simply watches
is just like a river; A walking poem
an erasure of its own absence
a suchness, an ever presence.
A river never sleeps
but we always do.
 
Your life is the life of life
where death stands not a mere antithesis
but an organic whole of infinitesimal deaths
that soaks the soul of very atom of life;
Just like Escher's absurd paintings
form and background, melt together
in a dream-like swoon
reciprocating the all-encompassing
all-devouring void.
Strange! You don’t
What you do;
You dwell in One, but I abide in two.

​                             Dream is a Hyper-Space
 
Amidst the stillness
 distilled out of all quiets
you flow with guile
 through the deepest of canyons
queen of occult alchemies!
as you dally amorously
with intimidating bounds
sing the hymns of unknown to me
when mist of mysteries
permeates my space
in the timeless of times.
 
And a solitary soul
soul-witnesses the dreams
of a bewitching enchantress
enamored, enraptured.
 
The super-sea
as it surges in ecstasy
speaks the language
of your distant world
and subdues the malice
of titans from inferno
and as you evoke your axioms
arthopoid beasts flee
towards glistening brook
when the fire of gold
oozes from abysmal hell
ignites unconscient
 contours of silt 
breaks the crust
and kisses supernal height.
 
Ohh, sweet thing!
silver of my radiant moon
a lonely sleep-walker
 through primeval turfs
 the sole executioner
of unwritten rules
 mandala of dreams
 you architect with your coils
you decipher
the kabbalah of gods.
Flux of rapture
as it emanates
you remain the one
the non-categoric bliss.
 
An untouchable shape
drawn from  the fibers of trance
a purest of patterns
 carelessly fluid
Ohh..I can’t behold
 with my thought
dissolves and crumbles
 to pieces,
as it is stained
when my love-struck
 thought tries to think
an unthinkable
unthought you.
 
A single super-soul we are
a unitary life-force
A seamless continuum
 of dreamer and dream
And there I am again,
an ideation-freak
ageold blasphemy of
 thought I cannot help
and the chasm is created
 out of lust
a  fracture
in the primordial mound.
 
Not motility
nor are you stupor
not dynamics
neither you an inertia
neither you the matter
 nor the spirit
an absolute void
sans schizoid thoughts
an objectless bliss.
A stainless canvass
of pure rapture
just one, only one
benediction of  pure “Nothingness”
you are.

​                             The Sound of the Sacred
 
The evenings make me
go soft on the entire Universe
it is exactly this
 lousy sense of stupor,
remixed with the gentle hums
of my machines
that goes into making the sound
 of the underground.
and how beautifully
it means nothing !
At times, my mind loves 
to paints the walls
with these yellow photons
 of non-thought.
 
I never looked for Gods,
My mother complained 
but I never told her
I always live among the Buddhas.
I don't meditate,
I don't cultivate kindness
and I know shit about Life,
Love and God.  
the very act of looking
stains the hyper-reality
of this immediate now
you don't look for truth,
you are the truth .
 
This blank of the moment,
vibrates with the protean null
and this is all I have,
my most beautiful sacred.
the moment you start looking,
you slay the Christ within.