Friday, July 31, 2009

Friar Tuck One Up On You

www.yearbookyourself.com/

hey mate
i am one up on you
buzznet blues
that came to flickr
but not as a refugee refuse
i had to choose
to be close to the
woolongong mafia
as we cruise
through pictures poems
karma dharma as we fuse
comments favorites
some hits and views
no curry bashing
we are human first
of differentiating hues
living together
nothing else to lose

This is my tribute to my three Woolongong friends I have known for 5 years , hate never touched us ever , because of these three musketeers I found a lot of peace love and harmony..they have always been there when I was down.. I wish them well..
I did fight with Friar once we patched up.. it was a poets quarrel.. he is a better poet than me and a better photographer too/..

I AM NOT A POET

www.yearbookyourself.com/

I have never considered myself a poet. Therefore, I am not a rival of anyone, and I do not consider anybody my rival
Allama Mohammad Iqbal

I shoot pictures
pedestrian poetry of pain
searching for godliness
hidden in a grain
the beggar the hijra
the rafaee the hindu
the shia the maryamma devotee
the naga sadhu the christian the sufi
all bound by a single chain
blood sweat and tears
part of a single domain
touching the human soul
without borders or frontiers
like a drop of rain
flowing into gutters
like filth in a drain
the heart the silent hunter
accursed the thinking brain
morning to night
a litany of a complain
religiosity of hate
for the neighbor
is what the human
mind ordains
without hate
the fleshy soul wont sustain
puppets on a string
born to entertain
to save us from ourselves
sane and insane
god sent rishi munis saints
mahatmas pirs
our selfishness contain
in the dust of the earth
only dust to retain
our ego our wealth
our bonds
we leave behind
beyond the fast
moving lane


I AM NOT A POET
just a humble servant
of a Mother and her son Hussain
born as a Shia
human I shall remain
Hussain is Humanity
a single refrain

Firoze Shakir -Photographerno1 Google Profile

I feel the winds as they blow
the golden sunset glow
like a little paper boat
into the waters of an ocean
I flow
my destiny
not yet ready to kiss
dollar littered American shores
I am happy shooting hija beggars
eunuch kids and hijra whores
my karma my dharma
my bare feet
my diabetic sores
my camera like vision
to a deaf and dumb god
above implores
when it rains it really pours
man two legged animal
crawling on all fours
open windows of my mind
my future stares at me a shut door
a whimper held to this leopards roar
a chant of my faith
blood sweat tears and gore



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