Monday, May 29, 2017

Poetry By Sudeep Adhikari

Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer  from Kathmandu, Nepal.   His recent publications were with   Red Fez , Kyoto  , Your One Phone Call, Jawline Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, Beatnik Cowboys, Poetry Pacific, Silver Birch Press and Outlaw Poetry . 

Zen of Sleeping Bodhisattvas

After hitting absolute rock bottom 
of my haunted Self, it took me 
a couple of heart-breaks, 
an obsession with Wittgenstein, Buddha,  
Carl Jung and Ian Curtis,    
6 years of research on fiber reinforced concrete
in a shithole for a lab, 
and a few self-destructive episodes 

of shame to realize that  everything is still 
empty and groundless, and   
Impermanence is permanently incurable. 

But my psyche finds its own way 
to self-organize I guess;  Because my same 
old demons, are now the
dreams of my sleeping Bodhisattvas. 

We all are Same God 

We are the reciprocal ripples
of our own loneliness
and endless fragmentations 
that follow. You consecrate,
you desecrate
does it really matter?

My psychoid, schizoid episodes
remain unalloyed and pure
form the ether
of our collective madness; 
A noisy signal, a psychic-wave
 undulates the noosphere. 

Unheard, yet turbulent.

Black Hole Sun 

The hopelessness and despair. They keep coming 
at you like a black hole sun. 
You stand at the edge of a dreadful void;   
tempted to peek into the singularity, 
all anxieties collapsing under the gravity 
of a superunknown. 

The other-worlds might let you sleep like 
a kid, you think. A very long sleep, without
worrying about waking 
to the world of piercing black lights.  

Life, Ativan and Rock n' Roll 
it's a killer combination, my friend. But 
the shit goes on, in its usual Jesus Christ Pose. 

[A tribute to late Chris Cornell]

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