I do whatever I can to reach you
But whatever I do, I feel insufficient without you.
It is you I want to be with
It is you I do anything to be with
It is you, without you I am just an air without oxygen
am a body without soul
I am a feeling without satisfaction
I a moment without life
I missing you alien ... :\

CSK Shiv Kumar Chintapalli

पर फैलाए खड़ा हूँ में उड़ान भरने को

मंज़िल है दूर कहीं आसमान को छूने को

डगर ना होगी आसान जानता हूँ में मगर

घबराता क्यूँ है दिल राह भटकने को|

- क़ैद आज़ादी 

 

Bleeding pen

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 16 September 2012

There is no peace for my crying soul

everyday your memories bank on my shoal

I soliloquize to keep you out of my head

but when the night falls you come back to my bed.

and then you rule every second of my dream

like an angel who came down from heavenly agleam.

I wish I am ruling your world too

dominating your skies with my vibrant hue

whilst this distance is crushing my heart

a moment away from you is like submitting to a dart

I rest with my dead words and with my bleeding pen

with scraped papers and with feelings beyond my ken.

What If?

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Thursday, 13 September 2012

Heart never knew how to fly in sleep,

Dreams they called it, and she told me to keep.

 

Days passed, So is her level of understanding,

confusions rose high, explanations, she started demanding.

 

I died many times, when I lost my conscience,

made peace with pain, with drinks formed an alliance.

 

When I lost myself, I started boozing to endure,

without it I could have not made it, for sure.

 

My determination to live never fell, I was always stiff.

Now I have few questions to her, What if?

 

What if I treated you the way you treated me?

would you have stayed all this length with me?

 

What if I would have left you amid your turmoil?

like me, would you have fallen to this foil?

The Be-trayal

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 22 August 2012

You kissed me holding my hands tight,

and tied them behind, when I was busy loving you.

 

You showed me the dagger, said it won't hurt,

you put the point on my heart, yet I stood there to please you.

 

You went all the way down, every inch of the blade in me,

and left me to my fate, but I waited for you.

 

Everyone who tried to pull it out, had failed.

I bled to my last drop and still, I was craving for you.

 

I live as living dead, I accepted the fortune,

though my silence cry out loud, calling out for you.

 

After everything, you come begging for love, brings me a smile.

I am confused whether my smile is smiling on myself or, on you!!

The Eternal Silence of LOVE (शांति )

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 8 August 2012

It is an amazing language

with which the Silence speaks.

When one falls in love

how a blink of an eye tweets.

 

words aren't suffice to express

and silence contains the ultimate expression.

even if it lasts for a minute

you end up having a strange sensation.

 

When it rises from nowhere

heart races to its maximum heat.

Only thing you hear is her breathe

which is louder than your heartbeat.

 

A strange current passes through

when she asks you to tell something.

It tickles every inch of your bone

when you find yourself with nothing.

 

This eternal silence keeps pushing you

out of your comfort zone.

It is when you wish

that you have had recharged your phone.

They call it DARK

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Friday, 3 August 2012

When eyes are devoid of light,

life is confused with fight.

When future of steps are undecided,

confidence in heart is subsided.

When everything else loses its spark,

this is when they call it dark.

 

When thought doesn't seem bright,

darkness is darker than night.

When happiness burns in sweats,

tears falls off in debts.

When dreams do not embark,

it is when they call it dark.

 

When questions are more than the answers,

every word spoken create disasters.

When vision die in embarrassment,

and support resigns its department.

When things done do not make a mark,

it is when they call it dark.

My Lost Poem

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Tuesday, 10 July 2012

 

Sated the paper with the aroma of love

drenched my pen in a pool of emotions.

I started writing my poem about you

keeping every feeling in their deserved positions.

 

Wept when the pen refused to write

still holding the things I wanted to subside.

Tore everything I have of you

when I lost, my hope, my guide.

 

Silence took my heart as hostage

storm rose violently in my head.

My eyes filled with rivers of agony

when I realized, my poem is dead.

 

The words filled with rage, was taking over

yet my desire to melt you away kept burning.

So I started again from the beginning

writing those lines full of yearning.

 

I wish I could show you in those sentences

how red was the color of my tears.

How lonely was I without you, in the people

when you decided to disappear.

 

I tried everything I can do to explain, how I felt

cried my heart out at times, when I couldn't do.

till now I thought it was my poem, I lost,

but it wasn't it, it was not my poem, all I lost is .................. YOU.

 

With YOU, without YOU

 

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 20 June 2012

you were right.

With you I live,

I smile louder

than my laugh.

With you

my word doesn't fumble.

I write beautifully

than my thoughts.

 

 

But,

without you!!

I live, with no meaning.

I laugh, for no reason.

I fumble when I speak.

my writings distort

and my thoughts die,

even before they are born.

 

Because!!

you are my paper,

to write off my feelings.

you are my diary,

to log my day up.

You are my blotter,

to dry off my spill.

 

Now

you must be wondering

How, without you,

this is written so well?

This is because

you are hidden in my heart

and I am going through hell.

 

महफ़िल

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Thursday, 14 June 2012

महफ़िल को वो यूँ इस कदर जवां रखा करते है

एहसास अपनी मौजूदगी का यूँ बनाए रखते है

इस कशिश मे ढूँढने पर उनकी परछाई भी नसीब नही होती

लेकिन वो तो अपने दिल की धड़कनो से ही महफ़िल सजाए रखते है|

 

पर उनकी यादों से शमा मेरी जलती है

जिसको बारिश के पानी से हम बुझाते रहते है

लेकिन मालूम था ना हमे इन बूँदों की फ़ितरत

जो लौ बनकर शमा को रौशन करते रहते है|

 

इस बेताबी के आलम मे तो आँसू भी उतर आते है

मोहब्बत की महफ़िल मे वो शमा बुझाने चले आते है

माहौल तन्हाई का हो तो नम आँखें झील बन जाती है

और भारी बरसात मे पलकों पर अश्क भी भीग जाते है|

 

फिर भी नफ़रत नही अब भी उनकी चाहत से

ख्वाबों का सेहरा जो इस दिल को पहनाया है

बस यही दुआ है रब से की ख़त्म ना करे इस मोम से दिल को

जिस पर प्यार से उन्होने आग इस कदर लगाया है|

 

- CSK, Md. Khalique

 

Subconscious

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Wednesday, 30 May 2012

My eyes are winking, I can barely sit anymore.

The dark inside me is growing, All I see is the final door.

A figure has appeared there, the light fell on my skin.

My heart filled with fear, and the sweat is dripping off my sin.

 

I cared no less to see, It was smiling hard at me.

I stood back on my feet, this time it was so easy.

I looked down on the floor, wondering at the miracle just passed about.

though it was abhor, the very sight left me in no doubt.

 

I was standing on the bridge, It was awaiting to take me away.

my body was lying on the ridge, my sight started turning gray.

I pleaded the man, I am not yet ready to go home.

Pushed him and ran, expecting to outrun that gnome.

 

The distance wasn't cutting short, and the world was coming apart.

I started to snort, and the beats raised in my heart.

All I can look, is turning black, thereafter I couldn't catch my breath.

I stopped fighting back, when realized, I was being dragged by death.

The final path

 

They, Me and The Road

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 27 May 2012

I stood on my first crossroad

wondering which one is for me to take.

They chose the one more traveled

decision was not mine, to make.

 

Might have been in my best interest

they know what I can manage.

I locomated myself like others

all the way through, without damage.

 

And that lead me to another one

It too diverged into more than two.

Every road has been traveled frequently

there is nothing new, which I can do.

 

Finally I found a new trail

Roadsigns said its to the heaven.

But the path was roughly blazed

and there were tools all over, broken.

 

The stage is there to perform

How can they select what I play?

I know at which I am good.

Yet the path is not good for me, they say.

 

They never looked at it, the way I see it,

They barricaded it and told me not to do it.

I know it wont be easy, but it is not that hard

But I want to play it, The way I feel it.

 

What should I write about??

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Monday, 21 May 2012

I pick my pen up daily, for something to write.

My thoughts take birth but die, And I stare at walls all night.

Words strike me like bullet, I feel them deep inside

I sit blank thinking how to start, When I wanted to confide.

I am damned with these incomplete emotions, I contain,

So I thought about you for one last time, to bring out this fountain.

 

Now I have these tears to fight and so many feelings to drain,

yet I continue staring, wondering what part of you to explain.

If I start with our cute love, but that is long gone,

or I can do with our lovely tussles, which you always won.

I love to lose myself to you, Even after I lost you,

memories do the rest to bring you back, when with pen and paper I glue.

 

I hate to live the pain again, So I changed the topic.

And off I went to my college at the time of tropics.

The day I stepped in that place it was green all over

and the day I walked out, it dried in lack of shower.

I looked at every face of my friends, before leaving,

Each having the same question on them "Is this the beginning(of the end)??"

 

I started teasing the matters beyond my understanding

this very thought put me back in place that was haunting

now what should I write about? I am not capable of it anymore

I have nothing left to talk, My poems had reached the hoar.

My ink is drying without the lines it can boast about

And the paper lie still without the feelings to rout.

 

Adieu

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Monday, 16 April 2012

A walk I so desperately want to remember.

where we accompanied each other

in those sweet Novembers

and in those sullen august rushes.

 

Though I was surrounded by the people,

I was home alone in those vacations

that might be, because of the hangover

of those entertaining Euro trip's we had.

 

When we used our own carnival of rust to hunt,

You know what I mean, The girl next door...

So damn tough clues to concentrate on our treasure hunts

They really made me feel like we are hunting a National treasure.

 

I really am going to miss those classes

yet road trip to them is a real big deal.

Even to forget the little moments with you people

will definitely be a mission impossible.

 

The dilemma

By Shiv Kumar Chintapalli on Sunday, 15 April 2012

The original outline of our first story ........ :)

 

There was nothing that he could do

except from keeping himself away from stew

for the promises he made to remain with her

he pushed his future and dreams in blur

 

He was no different from other living

He had this feeling inside him of loosing

not her but loosing hisself from him

yet he walked the road even when the chances were grim.

 

She made him believe that she is the psyche

to rest his soul in this life's pike

She used to call him prophet and she was his immortal

both worshiped each other though, but god had his chortle

 

He recovered from their first dispel

but she returned, she couldn't repel

her feelings for him inside

but not for long they could reside (together).

 

This time this was the truth which surfaced

for his large heart he felt guilty by the way he faced

he had no clear answer and she never returned again

his guiltiness increased when nothing worked with the bargain.

 

He felt crippled, broken beyond repair

she knew so well about him, yet she did not care

But when he came to know about the answer

his feet were too heavy to walk and he was too restless to be rested on bed.

He couldn't take it for long, time has just passed by his hand.

He forgot all other reasons to live, So now his is dead.

 

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