How notion is different from essence?

Existence is self-determinate in the sense that it has more to do with living than non-living or abstract concepts that form the core of any Philosophical system. After the existence and before anything abstract comes the idea. But the idea is inadequate on itself to explain the abstract concepts like holy, beauty and the eternal. Hence we move on to the abstract concepts. Of which the first is the notion of substance. The notion of the substance is based on something more than existence which is external to the substance. This something else is self-moving and self-differentiating that is called pure notion or notion. So notion arises with the substance which arises with existence.

The notion further depends upon the content that it espouses and it is the content that leads us to the essence. So love could be the content of a notion of loving which depends primarily on the existence. So it seems, to love the existence is required but that is not the case as we could love things that are purely abstract and without living existence like freedom, democracy and so on.

Philosophy · Literature · Poetry

The Drunken men’s society

They raised the slogan and the toast too

to liberate the soul of the one in captivity

of work and meaningless growth of the both

the oppressed and the oppressors, Let’s git rid

of the basic seed of humanity to earn the bread

and cheer the slow suicide of the soul to mate

the death on its chamber for the insolent sleep

Let’s get rid of the passion of living the hostile life

and not to lick the wounds inflicted upon earning

a two squares meal a day. Let’s drink the Vodka

and finish the class struggle of the men under alms

for seeking a place in heaven and beyond!

Let’s unite with the threadbare of alcohol as our messiah

and wine the rose on the wagon of the just married couple

preparing to up bring the children raised as stock.

The sum of the stock written on the cabinets of the bar

the whiskey follows suit the ice on the fire that tingles throat

Till the day is sped into forgetfulness and the muse of a

vagrant woman takes hold in the spirit of the romance

Till we are done with the finest love tunes on the radio

and the last cup of wine brings the day to open its eyelids

and the night to wade into the sea of silence.




The Fate

These are from the steps of a temple

cascading a thought so divine as to

know the difference between a soul

and its livelihood – the soulful music

which lives in the echoes of a forsaken heart

as to know the difference between a lover

and love that consumes like a flame does the light

I silently bestow upon the idol of God a flower

that has come from the womb of a woman teaching

the kids about the lines on the palm

that mark the fate as important

as the destiny of a Pilgrim on the steps of the temple.


The Darkest hues

Color shows the life as painted darkest hues

that shine off the other side of seeming few

I win the battle of nerves with her on a promise

to keep the day as blank as possible for I must

try to write the slogans worn off her sleeve

Then the pandemonium did rise through the din

of the palace where supposedly did God live

till the lamps were lit, everything faded in color

the darkest hue did she choose to wear with

white Sari that languished under the sunlight

Philosophy · Poetry

The Mind Maker

The dandelions projecting into space

as I pick a diamond from the heap of sand

and turn about to say the love is a forsaken

game of hide and seek on the north Prairies

and win the heart as a rake to taste the wine

in the abandonment of soul and body with pride

What burnt was the heart bent on making love

As there is no one who participates in the life of

a rakish soul experimenting with oodles of love

the projections of Mercury in the sky forbid nothing

that could be the gateway of civilization, betwixt

the earth bounces back on the trajectory of love

Only if Juliet is married to her vow of keeping up

silence when challenged to love anything other than

the Romeo!

Philosophy · Poetry · poetry in motion

The Love Face

The winds were high and strong

the will mere a penny’s worth and oblong

I turned to the doctor who saved love

from dying as the soul was consumed and lying

She with feeble hands held high

the resolve to stay with might

whatever the fraction of love remained

I whispered a halo summer’s song

and she looked with hope and growing

beyond a distance into the rhythm of the night

the night surged and culminated on her pillow

as a prize fight that brought a pence and a day

till the day grew calm and in the mirror I saw

the flying moon as if cut off  from the strings of love

and I fell on to my face on the pavement crying for

a soup van and the paltry food; she was alright and

like a sun of her own very bright!


The Ship deck

There is no outlet of love in these repugnant days

she bids hello to see if the tower in the east sees the ship

on the receding line of loveless but settled speck of a dip

of the hearts which leap though in short squirts leaving

behind nothing but a whimper with parting waters


Nothing catches the fire on the wire to the coast

saying the gold digger pirates choose not to bring

chaos to the otherwise calm and hushed wind doing

the circles of circus on the tapering deck that calls

for the noteworthy dance from Spanish flamingo!