The Ballads of Gravity

They sing the funeral song on the death of their Day, “Day is dead, let's celebrate the birth of the Night from vivacity to ecstasy and finally a fall from the seventh heaven unto the abyss of dreams and lust.” Having nothing to do in the nights of my ‘usual routine’, I had my same chair on the same corner, a platform above the dance floor of the Seventh Heaven party club at the Down Town.             Everything in me tends to go on to become something else. The pervasive  aesthetics of life and the disposals of proposals from the mighty eyes of Almighty, I placed myself on the corner for no reason. My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. She holds spring against her breast and stares at me with sad eyes as if I’m a son of all other seasons other than spring. I don’t know who the she in my life is, but I keep watching and following her, th...

An Elegy on a Night Party-1 The paradigmatic shift in the conceptual map of my liberal and revolutionary platforms of radicalism, existentialism and humanism make things aesthetically absurd and practically effective. Living in the present and progressive tenses of time and space I tend to contradict my ‘Other’ (purely theoretical), who was conceived as a result of Theory and Philosophical classes.                          Receding past bequeaths an un-ravished beauty of poetry within my foster memories of great poets and their offspring - poems. I’m going through a ‘deep romantic chasm which slanted down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!’   I feel Coleridge, the great poet whom I resemble with the mystic feelings and visions of mystic abyss. I am living the life at its zenith of vivacity and I celebration of soul. I do it at- A sava...