Sudeep Adhikari- Three Poems

Sudeep Adhikari, from Kathmandu Nepal, considers poetry to be an impersonal act, largely deriving its content from unconscious psychic undergrounds. His works have recently been featured in Verse-Virtual, Arlington Literary Journal and Zombie Logic Review. 

A Mountain is Never Quiet

The mountain is never quiet

it celebrates the solitude of noise

the ancient murmurs of life, death

and all the in-betweens

alternately overlapping

in the colors of quartz and sandstones

a mountain breathes the carbons of long bygones

and we breath her oxygen in return.

I remember that parable by D.T. Suzuki

"when I began to study zen, mountains are mountains;

when I thought I understand zen, mountains were not mountains;

but when I understand zen, mountains were again mountains"

But in my case, "mountains were me"

a noise mistaken

by society for silence.

I know you don't believe me

if I say mountains do speak

but if you can feel wearing

her canopy of junipers and pines;

a moment before, a piece of rock on her peak

touching the sky, the next moment

gravitates with all its might to the abyss

that "Plong !", if you can hear

and on a fine day, when she loses herself

to thousands of roaring landslides

you will know.

 watching the mountain,

all I can be is
a naked impossibility of death and silence.

Nothingness is Fractal

The garden of lovelorn mist

flowers the airy spaceships

made of stainless steel

and a pocketful of silver, 

mixed with few multiverses

of cobalt blue.

I saw UFOs

of weird shapes

hanging on the ether

like the wild wet berries

with the dimension

somewhere between 2 and 3,

fractal.

Elysium waitress
will you serve me today

the zen of gravity,

a diet coke

and a river for a serpent ?

when my head

is 1,000 non-thoughts

above the me-level.

Silence, sky, white-noise

the pregnant space

of formless many,

and their million shades

of dynamics and dance;

So is my soul

always tripping and pimping

on organized chaos,

strange attractors 

and few Jupitars

of butterfly-effect.

Cloud Nothingness

Solitary, stoic
silent and stoned
a god stands tall
with his fractal emptiness;
green, saffron and vermillion red
melting on his mighty chest
while the sleep-walking witch
sways in aqueous ecstasy
her silty mist of lust and love
pervades the effulgent infinity 
of absence
supreme and shy.

And I watch those flying saucers
of luminescent gold-fire
quietly babysitting the sons of silver silence;
I am the Schrödinger's cat
dead and alive
aware and amored
countless, yet one
I AM
virtuous-vicious.

I am the Godhead reinvented within 
a punk Buddha 
shitfaced in your cosmic disco;
A spectral shape of decay and dust
a psycho-sonic ripple
crafted out of your ocean noise.