Friday, August 31, 2007

Supinely Subtle Rose

The Lion and the Crow

often come to blows

when the shit of the crow

on the mane of the lion shows

an inbox of her silence

unread messages

Pirouetting on the tips of her

honied toes

the heart says

Photographerno 1

try not to be firoze

click and compose

in her perfumed garden

a bit of me that glows

an Indian thorn..

lying by the side of a

Supinely Subtle Rose.


I took a break from Poem hunter after deleting 1002 poems here quite recently, , so as not to write and stay away from a sign that says Private Property Usurped by Racist Poets ..Beware of Dogs, Indians not allowed, Car tyres will be flattened, Trespassers will be Prostituted...Electrocuted...

These are poems ..older lot

Posted on 08/11/2006 8:25 Am

Dog Asleep ...Under a Humper of a Dumper

“Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wheels of Death are asleep

lts a Dogs Life that is cheap..

once the driver starts the Engine

Death will take him away in a sweep

what he has grabbed

he wont be able to keep

leave behind everything and into an

everlasting sleep

your tears no more yours

others who just might

remember you and not weep

you have taken a long leap

the living dead ..

a garbage heap

also defyingly asleep.

Posted on 08/12/2006 5:12 AM

Bollywoods Most Wanted Blogger No1

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.”
Mother Teresa

We are saffron colored Indians

We hate green Indians

a thought on Sulekha Blogs spun

my language an excuse to block me

without giving me a reason

make and poke fun..

cultural policing , creativity undone ,

clits, tits elephant dicks

jahangir art gallery

an exhibition

they shun

600 blogs in three days

gave an Indian blog bank run

I d rather shoot from my dick

still be Bollywoods Most Wanted Blogger no1

at Flickr Bloggerspot Wordpress Buzznet Ipernity

than a Confused Muslim

on Sulekhs Blogs

on the run..

my words poetic

wisdom .. unmuzzled

to a Racist submachine gun.


Thank You

a message

of Racial Indianess

Well Done

in silence a thought I wont return...

Moghul Masjid God Lives Here

This is where God lives, I have written so much about God and his favorite haunt the Moghul Masjid built by Mohomed Hassan Shirazi an Iranian philanthropist and his Lucknowi wife from the family of the royal Nawabs.

I cant stop shooting pictures of the Mogul Masjid, with all the money in the world the Khojas can built any grandeur like Mosque , but can never recreate the ambience of Moghul Masjid , where I feel the human presence of God. Other Mosques may have a heavenly God but the vision I see here is of a kind , human loving God, every little speck at Mogul Masjid praises the bounty of this God.

I don’t enter any other Mosque, yes I am a heretic, architectural Mosques that encage Godliness never inspired me, and I come here every Friday if I drop in at the Chor Bazzar flea market, I make it a point to have a black Kava at Khushali the Iranian samovar shop, and let my spirit roam at the Mogul Masjid..I am not much of a prayer man, but yes I pray all night, to be lulled to death on my pillow.
.I don’t want to die in any other place but my home if already destined within the borders of my beloved country.

I know people among my Malang friends who always carry a shroud bought from someone who came down with it from Mecca or Medina.

The Shias are living Shrouds in Iraq and in a friendly Muslim country called Pakistan, friendly is the punishment for living a Muslim and dying as Sunni or Shia in sectarian violence.

I never understood why the hard hearted called the non Muslims Kaffir, being human is worse than a Kaffir than I am a kaffir all right , there was a time in protest I wanted to change my name to Kafir Firoze Shakir.., my mother pleaded , I gave in.. remained a man loving Kaffir from within.

I lived for a short while in Muscat Oman and saw the tragedy and travesty of being an Indian Muslim.. you are considered of the lowest rung, I fled the Gulf., I for any X amount of money in the World would not want to live in the Gulf.

And I think it is countries like ours that kept the Covenant of Allah Alive.. and here I don’t talk of those who kept the covenant of the Devil and his Satanic Verses alive by killing , humans and innocence and blaspheming the name of Allah with their dastardly acts...

Yes I am opinionated, I am not a scholar of the Holy Koran, but its spirituality remains the same for the literate and the illiterate alike.
I saw a film called the Horseman, where Omar Sharif tears a part of the Holy Scripture to apply to a wound., it stayed with me all my life, I wore Ayats in a Tawiz or talisman round my neck , but gave it up, as I sinned too much was not worthy of desecrating it with my thoughts either.

Well I digress , Moghul Masjid , is the Mosque, I am in love with, there may be may more splendoured , but this imposing Mosque in a crowded area of Bhendi Bazar.. is my address of a human loving God.

veiled silence of her smile

veiled silence of her smile
my acqua marine thoughts
sleepy waters of the Nile ..
a cat Goddess
perforated pause
to my words hostile
she may come around
it may take a while
fathomless fashion
to old time style
bejeweled guilt
worthless weight
yet worthwhile.
a Indian born desi
shia thug
she does revile
solemnised silence
speech sterile

Clits , Tits and Elephant Dicks

Thursday July 27, 04:04 AM

YOU could be a 40-year-old man posing as a 16-year-old girl, a 60-year-old woman playing a 20-year-old stud-boy, a wallflower geek who becomes an adventure sports jock or a neurotic pimple-ridden teenager who turns into a super-model. Online, anything is possible.

Entering the virtual world, one can play violent games. ''The site Sociolotron allows raping and murdering in its virtual underworld and the site clarifies that all this occurs with the consent of the browser, so it is a valid fantasy,'' says artist Sanveej Khandekar, whose collaborative exhibition with artist Vaishali Narkar, Clits, Tits and Elephant Dicks, opens at Jehangir Art Gallery on August 1.

Taking off from this virtual world where one can buy anything from dildos to life-like sex dollies, Khandekar will convert the staid gallery into a rocking underworld, filled with 12 paintings, two large installations and four glass table-tops that are faux computer monitors displaying actual and imaginary websites that cater to the huge online porn industry.

''I've cast myself as one of the real dolls serving customers like an eight limbed octopus behind the kitschy bar, tossing up a cocktail made for their fantasy,'' says the artist who positions himself through his works, both as a critic and a participant of the raunch and razz. Even his watercolours evoke a sense of the games and online sex without actually becoming a voyeuristic tour themselves.

For the uninitiated, Khandekar is a Marathi writer-poet who turned artist in 2001 with a show of watercolours at Jehangir Art Gallery. However, it was his mammoth exhibition at Pundole and The Museum Gallery in Kala Ghoda last year, that lobbed him into the big league. ''Even today, it's difficult to sell my work because of its confrontational nature, but people have faith in my work, which is why I'm having my next show,'' says Khandekar, sitting in his Chembur studio.

Team DNA

MUMBAI: The moral police ensured that an art exhibition, explicitly titled ‘Tits, Clits n Elephant Dicks’, did not go on uninterrupted in Mumbai on Saturday.

Following an obscenity complaint by a woman named Pushpa Vitula at the Colaba police station, 12 policemen stormed the exhibition showcasing the works of Sanjeev Khandekar and Vaishali Narkar at the Jehangir Art Gallery and took pictures of the exhibits for evaluation.

Lawyer Mahesh Jethmalani says: “The police have no legal right to enter and inspect the paintings and installations as the exhibition is being held at a private art gallery. The lady, who found the exhibition obscene, went to view it out of free will. If she was offended, she had the choice to walk out. There is no question of conflicting rights or enforcing the law here.”

At the time of going to print, the Colaba police station was yet to register the case. Officials said they were still investigating the complaint. nnnp18

“We have not still registered a First Information Report (FIR),” said the duty officer.
Police officials visited the exhibition twice but did not take away any of the exhibits for evidence after the artists told them that it would take away from the value of the exhibition, said Narkar.

Khandekar said that Vithula “did not approve of the paintings and had a heated argument with another observer. She got emotional about the issue. She walked away. Fifteen minutes later, the cops walked in.”

Friday, August 18, 2006

I complete an year
Late learner at computers
Internet blogging
Buzznet and Bloggerspot
Talonted photographer
Pictorial poetry
Leopard clawed
April 2006
Joined Sulekha Blogs
Karthik Kannan
Invitation mass mail
To this pictorial golliwog
Sulekha Blogs
Indian Hermit Crabs
Androgynously Amorphous
In a fragile glass bottle
Crab leg pulling crabs
Back stabs
Mellow mouthed jabs
Blog rehabs
Fuck the body
The ass of a soul
Up for grabs
I got sweet talked
A madness of mind
Bollywoods Most Wanted Madness
Ramp walked
And one fine July Monsoonal morning
Imported 666 blogs
From Buzznet to Sulekha Blogs
I docked
All overawed
And one fine Monsoonal August morning
I am without rhyme or reason Auto blocked
Associate Director Sulekha Blogs calls me
Says your passion for blogging is amazing ,
but your language is to pornfully mod
And too many cocks cunts and fucks overstocked
Spoil the child and despoil the rod
Now in retrospection
I find Krubashankarji s reasoning
A bit overflawed
Is it because of circumscisional evidence
my poetry that is half cocked
that I was as an Indian
posing as a Desi Amerikaan
Mee Mumbaikar my site blocked
I am still fuckin Shell shocked
Like a priest who masturbates
Nightdreaming Mary Magdalene
Is inconspicuously defrocked
Bhamini Ravishankar
Goddess of Prose
Had said change Your profile Jai Hind ,..
my Muslim default identity that
As an Indian was mocked
my reply Grow up Bhamini Ravishankar
The banter, the K saws (Keshavs)
And other fucked souls
On the cleavage of my decapitated ass
a braggingly hilt of a sword..
Simple Truth hurts
Muslims who think and stink as Indians
Are not Welcome at Sulekha blogs..
And me my Hindu born Ancestors
Were mere spokes Of Moghul Pathan clogs
And so I salute You With one raised leg
The hypocrisy of being a Man
And being treated like a Dog.
At all Indian sites
And those that call themselves Sulekha Blogs

Clits tits and Elephant Dicks
Jahangir Art Gallery
Cultural policing
Farting on our creativity
That as sensationalism
yellow journalistic
whores street walking
at midday
Mumbai mirrored and hawked..

Axis of Evil My Ass As well

photo courtesy glenn losack md

Writing poems
Is a job
That does not pay well
A promissory note
From 1 to 10
Rephrased that
You have to return as well
Or you get hate comments
From white dickhead
Racist poets a blow job
That they do well
Now I am in a conundrum
Whether to be a poet write haiku
Like Leonardo Daranjo
Or write limericks like
Allen James Saywell
Or whether to be Ted Sheridan
Or whether to be Yoonus Peerbocus
Or whether to be Indira Babbelapatti
And stop being Firoze Shakir as well.
Edward Hawk is grinning with a thought
He knows as well
Or should I become a Trader
Selling second hand clothes
Trinkets a job I could do well
Or lend my ass a commodity
On a Poem hunter stock exchange
Bulls and bears humping my ass , ass well .
axis of evil my ass imprinted on a womans behind
in an anti bush protest rally as well


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo courtesy glenn losack

you know you are right
all apologies
for the oversight
smells like teen spirit
this racist fight
malice in chains
to hit and spite
a discolored war
between black and white
rape me tomorrow
not tonight
racism in poetry
at its height
when the lights out
they beat you
to pulp for what you write

Holy Cow Unholy Women

photo courtesy
glenn losack

the young live on their milk
their warmth love
satin silk
they are both slaughtered
for their flesh
by men society
of such ilk
services rendered
body soul surrendered
and they bilk.

a poem called allen james Farewell

photo courtesy

I would agree with the context of this fine poem....but we need to keep in mind how hard it is to be considered acceptable in today’s racist world. It must be even harder for someone like him who still even at his advanced age struggles with both penis envy issues and cross dresses in plaids.
Revolutionary American poet Ted Sheridan .

What I have noticed in all your work is that that you respect and have a great knowledge of all religions. Thanks Firoz. I really appreciate this.
Leonard Daranjo

You seem to come across a lot of racism, except my sympathy? You express yourself greatly, though, and we seem to share an opinion that people should get what they deserve, haha. Enjoyed.
-Kylie M. Lynch
Finest poet. on cyberspace

we all suffer in unimaginable ways
yoonus peerbocus
tagore of Mauritius

You have a new comment about your poem: Australian Racist Poet Bad Luck

from allen james Saywell
I dont know what to say except you a one sick dude, you really are screwed up
didnt'' you like my limeric

Warm regards AJS

When age catches up with you
And your claustrophobic mind
Clogged with hateful stones
Starts turning to gravel
The turning point
Of a poem within a poem
A thought I can’t say well
Its time to pack you bags
To the kind world say farewell
Your racist ruminations
As poems of hate comments
Limericks you did bare well
Grounding and gnashing
Your dentures your
Spiteful jaws your
Hate for this peace loving
Bombay poet
you prince of evil
your satanic soliloquy
you could not mask well
God Jeohavah Allah Brahma
Has reserved your berth in Hell
Out of your flesh that you
Leave behind the aborigines
Plan to make a lamp shade
To light their world well
Out of you plaids that you
Leave behind an Indian
Bald Eunuch plans to look well
Your bones they plan to crush
With the oil cure arthritis
Painful joints that don’t work well
Out of your diseased testicles
The old widow’s home
plans to make a doorbell
So you won’t ever be forgotten
Ill begotten poem within a poem
A poem called allen james Farewell

Date & Time: 8/31/2007 2:42:00 AM Remove this comment

Poem: 8092644 - a poem called allen james Farewell
Member: Leonard Daranjo

Comment: Out of your diseased testicles
The old widow’s home
plans to make a doorbell
So you won’t ever be forgotten

I simply love these lines. What a way to achieve immortality. Firoz, you are a master craftsman with words - there is no denying that.

Take care

Pederast Poet Falls in Manhole

photo courtesy

Date & Time: 8/30/2007 9:31:00 PM Remove this comment

Poem: 8088711 - Poem Hunter Heaven Hell and Purgatory
Member: allan james Saywell



The term pederasty or paederasty can refer to a wide range of erotic practices, generally between adult and adolescent males. Pederastic relations have been variously described - as spiritual or materialistic, lawful or criminal, loving or commercial, compassionate or abusive, sexual or chaste – and have been documented from prehistory to modern times.

Rendered as 'age-structured homosexuality', it is, along with gender-structured relations and egalitarian relations, regarded as one of the three main subdivisions of homosexuality proposed by anthropologists
“Pederasty” derives from the combination of “παίδ-” (the Greek stem for boy) with “ἐραστής” (Greek for lover; cf. “eros”). Late Latin “pæderasta” was borrowed in the sixteenth century directly from Plato’s classical Greek in The Symposium. (Latin transliterates “αί” as “ae”.) The word first appeared in the English language during the Renaissance, as “pæderastie” (e.g. in Samuel Purchas' Pilgrimage.), in the sense of sexual relations between men and boys.

The mystery of the man who fell
Into the open man hole has been
Unraveled which hereby I expound
The man of a perverted mind unsound
Was searching for little Indian boys
With protuberant posteriors dusky
Musky and round
He horny as hell to his mouth organ bound
Told the newspapers he tripped
Thereby fell into the gutter
Lost his conciousnesss
They just bought him around
He was reciting Hail Mother Mary’s
This pederast poet
on a poem hunter mound
by the identification on his person
that they found
turned out he was wanted by the Interpol
this Acidic Jurassic Shithead renowned
his miniscule member unsheathed
they did impound
for causing public nuisance
and for fooling around
he was given bail after paying
a fine in Lebanese pound
multi colored hatred on the rebound
marborough beach bondi cranulla beach
memories of racism swung around
how white s love to break colored heads
with their Hate children of a lesser god pound
humanity kicked around down under stamping ground
What goes up must surely come down
A thought what your are within its with the same venom
You your resources more info of hate resound
yes your upbringing the breeding ground a thought
Very profound..Sleeping counting
Little Bim Bombay Sheep in the ICU
I am sure this Anti-Juvenile-Specimen
Will come around expatriated home bound

Poem Hunter Heaven Hell and Purgatory

photo google images

God was tired and heaven was packed with good white men
And people from Iraq who had died for a good cause you can tell
So the evil few from Poem hunter he decided to pack them off to Hell
First Ivan of 1000 poems sunny side up Carsewell
But in order to give this racist poet company he handcuffed him to
Allen James Saywell in yellow jumpsuits bare feet in a Guantanamo type cell in a devils hell.
Reading the Devils backward written Gospel..
For company to these two inmates he called in a Poet Trader
Defrosted Blane and another James as well ..
Burrning in the fires of Hate you can hear how they scream and yell
Cursing Bim Bombay Little Indian Boy burning flesh and smell
Not realizing that more important than a mans colored skin
Is the betrayal of human vaues by a single rebel of a sperm cell
Now this poet he opted for Purgatory instead of heaven and in Peace with his Blog Goddess eternity like two conjoined pearls in an oyster shell . So on this note I wish you all God Speed
Hugs Take Care and Farewell
My brain gushing poems like pure water from a Bore welll .

the alpha indian male

the alpha indian male
an open air funeral casket
no nail
into nothingness sail
even truth does a mujra dance
tahzeeb adab an old forgotten
nawabi fairy tale
toaday they make you a politician
while you are in jail
kids no cholesterol no heath problems
just unloving kills them
in my country an arrested moment
called heart fail
noxious hate filled fumes of
disharmony as hindu muslim
shia sunni that in the lords house
we inhale yes we are pathetic
natural born Indians
unborn hopes
killed before they give birth
the heartless screamless wail
on a large scale
our values our traditions of
living peacefully home food
overcooked gone stale
click fraud of emotions
the death of an unborn female
if they live they die burnt
on a dowry trail

inspired by mahfooz ali

Hate Filled Poem Hunter Animal Farm

surrender to your charms
your steamy soulless thought s
my spiritual being embalms
om padme hum
jai shree rams
ya ali adrikni
mary magdalene
madonna and child
death wish
my rebirth
in your arms
poetic philandering
beneath Indian palms
living as a poet
among other poets
in hate filled segregated
poemhunter animal farm

Cunninglingus C words and Sleep

Contorted sleep
Cadavered cry less sleep
Capitulated careless sleep
Catatonic callisthenic sleep
Catnapped cartwheeling sleep
Characteristic, charismatic sleep
Chronometered calculative sleep
Circuitous circular sleep
Claustrophobic climactic clitoral sleep
Cockeyed,cockpitted, cock roached,
Cokscombed,cock sure,cocky
Cock tailed conceited sleep
Collapsible, commodious,
Companion less, compulsive sleep
Conclusive conjectured, convulsive
Counter clockwise cosmic cybernetic sleep
Creative, criss crossed, cross hatched cross eyed sleep
Culpabaly cumbersome, cuckolded ,credulously
Cunninglingus ,cow licked, crevice cruising cubby holed sleep.

Flickr Think Flickr Think

photo courtesy

flickr think flickr think
for god sake wake up
from your rip van winkle like sleep
into a morass of just
making money
cybernetic power don’t sink
between a creative artist
and your administration
create a two hand clapping link
don’t cause a ruckus of a stink
now don’t look the other way
nelsons eye at you tube
orkut facebook like don’t wink
me and others like me think
more than money
it is the soul and the heart
the heartbeat of a photographer
here the soundless pain
in a clink

What I am today as a photographer and photo blogger I owe to El Gekko ,
A white man who never ever made me feel brown or black , a great difference there is among photographers and poets who carry hate ..Wordsmiths of hate .

This poem is my solidarity with a human being with a heart of gold.

Message from the finest photographer at Flickr El Gekko
Lost in a hudge playground!
That's me in the Web... ;)

My dear friends... I'll stay around, even if not as often as before.
The thing is that Flickr is just using our work to promote itself, to gain more power, and then, more money, with our work, and now that I understood that, I'm not interested much.

A board that is administrated by some lines of code, lines of code that will -then- decide that this image, or this one, or this other again, is good enough to be put in front page...

A board that uses censorship if some pubic hair is shown...

A board like that as no appeal to me, anymore.

There are many other boards around, that have a much better, and nicer, and respectfull approach toward "artists".

What has some appeal to me, though, are people like you, that I met around, shared with, laughed with.
This is why I'll keep an eye around, and post, once in a while, an image here, a comment there, a wink over here!

But I have the intention to regain full power on what I want to show, and that will be through my own website. I don't need no robot to tell me what to show, what to promote, what to do with *MY* work.

Thanks very much for your encouragements, you all around that found some interest into my work, for a year now.
I found a lot of inspiration into your various work(s), inspiration that led me toward new creative pathes and imaginative use of imagery. This I don't want to lose.
This I wanted to thank you for, too.

Narcissistic Neurosis

fault finding firozes
Narcissistic Neurosis
A window opens
And a trembling
door closes
Life was never a
marital bed of roses
thorn like
pictorial punctuated poses
a rod water parting
a thought imposes
a paper thin membrane
hands raised to the heavens like Moses
toast proposes and aaron opposes
life and fucked after life
unheavenly symbiosis

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Samiya the Terror

Samiya the Terror
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Samiya the terror
Inhabits my house
Fiery fires love cannot douse
She and me ever fighting
She capricious Tom Cat
And me machine gunned
Mickey Mouse
With my eunuch poetry
She has a sickening grouse
A cause and effect
that my wife Afshaan
Too will espouse
Asif and Saif my sons
She will rouse
And I rush
To the internet
Me my C words
F words
playing hide and seek
monitor keyboard
my finger touch mouse

unlearning photography-yogic kundalini

screw shutter speed
aperture on your
pictorial minds coral reef
photography is poetry
not a technical task
Unlearning photography
Is what I believe
Through your
yogic kundalini
releasing the serpent
wrapped within you
You do achieve
When you decipher
Pictorial pain pathos
Unmarried to grief
I believe as a photographer
You have written a poem
turned a new leaf

Passing Mirrors

Passing Mirrors
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
passing mirrors ,
reflecting mirrors of paint
one side the sinner
the other side the saint
good bad and evil
embedded in pain
a dimensionally flattened plaint..
art shows itself differently
in its own restraint..
this is poetic wisdom
not a complaint..

Will Barber (howtown, texas United States; Male; 58
Well after I had complained about not being able to reach your blog, I did indeed reach one. I dearly loved the sights of Krishna's birthday. One of the god-forms to which I pay devotion is Krishna. The Alexandrian invaders of India immediately identified him with Pan. I, being Christian, identified him with Jesus. The picture of the small boy dressed as Krishna was priceless, and the pictures of the pyramid - wow! what a proclamation of cooperation (and fun, and strength of devotion.)

I was puzzled by the reference to eunuchs. Is the deliberate removal of gonads still practiced in India, or is that a remnant of the past? Some Western choral works are strangely diminished by the assignment of 'castrati' parts to sopranos, of course. I am just curious, and forgive me if my questions seem rude.

The poem you sent me via email was disturbing, yet rich in imagery. I think of certain temples in India, richly carved in erotic scenes - and served by ascetic cults.

A story told by one traveler to India greatly impressed me. He saw everywhere the symbol of the lingam-yoni. He was amazed that such a sexual symbol should be so universal. At one shrine, an old Indian man told him he could tell the traveler of the hidden significance of the symbol. Fascinated, the traveler asked the secret. The ancient Hindu whispered in his ear - 'You see, it is a penis and vagina! ' or words to that effect. The old man laughed and laughed.

Sometimes, I think we live in different worlds, according to where the sun may happen to shine!


This is an old post I sincerely miss hearing from Mr Will Barber a great Poem hunter poet and a greater human being.With love for all humanity.

Passing Mirrors

Passing Mirrors
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
passing mirrors ,
reflecting mirrors of paint
one side the sinner
the other side the saint
good bad and evil
embedded in pain
a dimensionally flattened plaint..
art shows itself differently
in its own restraint..
this is poetic wisdom
not a complaint..

Will Barber (howtown, texas United States; Male; 58
Well after I had complained about not being able to reach your blog, I did indeed reach one. I dearly loved the sights of Krishna's birthday. One of the god-forms to which I pay devotion is Krishna. The Alexandrian invaders of India immediately identified him with Pan. I, being Christian, identified him with Jesus. The picture of the small boy dressed as Krishna was priceless, and the pictures of the pyramid - wow! what a proclamation of cooperation (and fun, and strength of devotion.)

I was puzzled by the reference to eunuchs. Is the deliberate removal of gonads still practiced in India, or is that a remnant of the past? Some Western choral works are strangely diminished by the assignment of 'castrati' parts to sopranos, of course. I am just curious, and forgive me if my questions seem rude.

The poem you sent me via email was disturbing, yet rich in imagery. I think of certain temples in India, richly carved in erotic scenes - and served by ascetic cults.

A story told by one traveler to India greatly impressed me. He saw everywhere the symbol of the lingam-yoni. He was amazed that such a sexual symbol should be so universal. At one shrine, an old Indian man told him he could tell the traveler of the hidden significance of the symbol. Fascinated, the traveler asked the secret. The ancient Hindu whispered in his ear - 'You see, it is a penis and vagina! ' or words to that effect. The old man laughed and laughed.

Sometimes, I think we live in different worlds, according to where the sun may happen to shine!


This is an old post I sincerely miss hearing from Mr Will Barber a great Poem hunter poet and a greater human being.With love for all humanity.

Immobile Sleep

Immobile Sleep
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Shuttered Sorrow
Immobile sleep
reliance ..
very cheap
broken promises
the body makes
the soul cant keep
tears that wonder
why they weep..
dwarved legs
another world
a stumbling leap
Man a Tombstone
on a refuse heap.

Tu Hijda Namard Hai

Behamdardi se kaha waqt ne
Tu hijda namard hai
Tu bhagti hue tanhai
Lahu se tapkte hue
Seene ka dard hai
Dabuche hue
Daraye hue
Dabdabati zindagi
zhunjlati huee
ki sarhad hai
sar jhuka
aur dekh upar
aasmam ke sitaron
ke dilon ki roshni
keh rahi hai
ya khuda tu hee
kulhu wala ho ahad hai.

dedicated to my androgynously amorphous soul ..


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Living in the clouds of my subconsciousness
giving my nascent creativity a sudden release
thank you goddess ..supreme within the
choked voice of my depair my goddess of Peace
at the trembling door of your desires
me and my ungodly aspirations on bent knees
poetic fancy like little love birds cooing on trees
to beg her attention droppings of my wisdom
that she seldom sees, my goddess in the
perfumed garden of her mind , the trees ,
lovebirds , honey and bees..
every written first time bitten word gives
evidence of my love and my pleas..

Beware Racists on the Prowl

My Buzznet site was hacked into recently with a lot venomous hate, the person posted gay pictures porn, got me into trouble in my hometown,I am a Shia , finally I deleted both my buzznet sites and also ended deleting 11000 blogs in a single night such is the power of Hate , that I am also experiencing all over again at Poemhunter , a manic man bent on stamping my poetic voice.
Racism in poetry is a very dangerous trend if left unchecked.It has to be weeded out before it infects the entire poetic plantation..

Hacks into my Buzznet site
Under my web faced ass
A fire ignite
Posts a picture of a gay guy
Calls me gay online
Gay bitches shouts
Colors my web page pink
Another unaided hyperlink
Through my cyberspace
Out and out
Cybernetic fascism

And its a scary thought
an evangelist conspiracy
a taliban plot
If he sends American hate mail
As photographer no1
Like Gautam Buddhi
I too locked up
In American jail
Yahoo finance board
Misplaced martyrdom
Cybernetic Terrorism

Hacks the soul
of my thought and belief
no online relief
this cybernetic thief
gives me grief
my Buzznet account
frozen that
I did delete
Me and my barefeet
Cybernetic Aphorism

My multicolored
Splotchy Brindled
Pictorial Poetic,
Designer ass
Untravelled Khyber Pass
Stamped Revamped
Immigration Check required
Green Card inspired,
Bejewelled attired
Custom cleared ,
Genius undeclared
Cybernetic Racism..

that even in Australia
you cant bypass
if you travel to Tweed Head
they will stamp
love with hot tongs
on your multi colored
dusky down ass
such is cybernetic hate
both on mind and mass
if god forbid you are a muslim
they will kill you with
poisonous gas
ausczwitz style
but with more class

Cobbled Sleep

Cobbled Sleep
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
The Drunken Creep
Cobbled Sleep
at home
his wife and children weep
he made a sober promise
he wont keep
he is pissed out
in his somnolence
his urine
from his pants does seep
his salary pick pocketed
while he is asleep
a garbage
human junk heap
what you sow
is what you reap
drunken doldrums
alcoholic dreams
at home
the family the shouts
the cries and impotent screams
the unpaid house rent, school fees,
a mistress holed up
at peela house in the cages
that someone else
in his absence will please
a cockless existence
testicled talk tease
final solution
his neck, the noose
his cirrhosis ravaged soul
hung to dry from the trees
an empty bottle
country liquor
wont appease

Vande Matram Kehna Hai.

Zindagi ek durghatna hai
Train ke paaiyon ke neeche
Train ki seaton ke neeche
Train ki patriyon pe seeche
Bomb blast mein marna hai
Hindu khoon aur Musalman Khoon
ko ek hi jagah
Idd Mubarak Diwali Mubarak
Behtey hue
Simatna hai
Gale lipatna hai
Katkar dilon ko
Judna hai
Khaufnak zahar ko
Nigalna hai
Aur mar kar
Isi bahane Hindustani
Ganga aur Jamuna
Jaise behna hai
Desh ki Izmat
Desh ka Gehna hai
Apas mein
Ane wale kal ko bh
Vande Matram
kehna hai

Zindagi mein aisi bhi ghadiyan aati hain

Zindagi mein aisi bhi ghadiyan aati hain
Beete hue kal ko pachtap ki patjhadiyon
Mein chupati hin
Seeene se neekli hue seeskiyonko
Dabe paon pairon se dabati hain
Aur jab hosh aata hain
Phiri neend ke gunjhle hue kambhal
Thapak tahapak kar
Sulati hain
Zindagi mein aisi bhi ghadiyan aati hain
Aane wale kal ko kal bane se bachati hain..
Seene se lage hue dard ko tadap tadap
Kar marne se bachati hain
Guzrri hue baatein.. kalap kalap kar
Aasuon ke zariye chere ki aad mein
Behjaati hain

Hamare Mullah

Hamare Mullah
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
pahen kar hame daratey hain
yeh toh hain nange hamam mein
humko bhi nanga dhikate hain
siyasti karne wale..
Allah aur Rasool ke naam par paisa banate hain
naam ke liye yeh kya nahin karate hain
sher khi khaal pahan kar
yeh bhed aur bhediyon ko nigal jaate hain
vande matram
ke bahane se yeh kiya kya
keh jaate hain
aapas mein jhagda karake
uupar wale ko doshi tharate hain..
Amama pahan kar khud to dare
buzdilon mein humari bhi ginti karate hain
lete hain naam hussain
ka aur hussainyat par yazidiyat
ki bharchiyan chalate hain..
Hamare Mullah
hain hamare
kisi aur ke ban jate hain.

Ammam means clerical turban.
This should only hurt whom the amama fits.. these lines are for rogue mullahs who are hell bent on dividing us.. our country as a Nation for political gains.. vote politics.Amama includes all religious head gears..that shame the headless sacrifice for Islam s Truth and Justice on the burning sands of Karbala..
There is also a segment of Shia Wahabbi clerics that are trying all means to erase Azadari e Hussain completely this information I got from a Nawab in Lucknow.

Prince of Evil Son of Satan

photo courtesy wikipedia
Gustave Doré's depiction of Satan from John Milton's Paradise Lost

Satan, the Devil, is a concept strongly supported by the Bible. Jesus had a lot to say about Satan. From Genesis to Revelation, the Devil is presented as a serious threat

John records Jesus describing the Devil as “the prince of this world” (12:31, 14:30). Jesus said, “You are the children of your father, the Devil, and you want to follow your father’s desires. From the very beginning he was a murderer and has never been on the side of truth, because there is no truth in him. When he tells a lie, he is only doing what is natural to him, because he is a liar and the father of all lies.” (John 8: 44)

The writers of the New Testament letters also had a great respect for the Devil. Paul wrote in 2nd Corinthians to “keep Satan from getting the upper hand over us” (2Cor. 2:11), “their minds have been kept in the dark by the evil god of this world.” (2Cor.4: 4), “Even Satan can disguise himself to look like an angel of light.” (2Cor.11: 14)

James and Peter also wrote about the Devil in their letters. James said “Resist the Devil and he will run away from you.” (James 4: 7) Peter wrote “Your enemy, the Devil, roams around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Be firm in your faith and resist him.” (1 Peter 5Satan
The devil always goes to far and when he does so, God turns the tables on him and uses it for our deliverance and our enlightenment. I.E. The Red Sea, Haman vs. Mordecai, Job, etc.
The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing people he didn't exist.

Rev 12:9 So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was cast to the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.

Son of Satan
Prince of Evil
Age three score eight
Defying his own Mortal state
Yes this Mate
Who loves
Distaste for colored people
On the souls
of colored poets
Racist Hate
Beats them
With hate filled comments
A black mans pride
He will try to deflate
This Incorrigible
Hate Machine
He with his evil written poems
More multi cuisine cultural hate
Poor Mother Mary desecrate
He dresses her in dancer’s lace
Even spirituality he berates
Wealth of wisdom dissipate
Calls us Indians poets
of the the third world
third rate
block him
he lies in wait
to ensnare you soul
with Ungodly Hate
As though Poem Hunter
Is his Fathers Real Estate
All around
Throwing his
Satanic weight
Racist megalomaniac
But not at all great

Warm Greetings from a Poets Hell

photo courtesy for reprsentational puropse of racist poets in hell

Warm Greetings
He sends as a deafening taunt
As a humiliating snide
This narcissist nerd
Australian Racist Poet
Poker faced
His greetings arsenic laced
Like little viper babies
From a basket of Hate surface
On my poetic posterior
Cut copy paste
He things save himself the
Rest of the colored skin
Brainless his opinion
Of this poet bleeding red face
Who with his hate comments!!
Has my walls of poetic peace defaced
This odoriferous stink of hate of foul breath
Whatever he touched or embraced
He with his attitude of a Skin head Yobo
Has an entire continent disgraced
Steve Irwin loved animals but this
Man hates colored men
Middle Eastern men
Multi-Racial Hate Misplaced
His soul putrid fetid his body waste
Absolutely crass gross his sense of poetic taste
If he continues with misdemeanors
Soon he and his kind will be displaced
With a new title
Late AJS

Alice the Piddling Australian Whore

photo courtesy google images

allan james Saywell (8/29/2007 9:54:00 PM)
There was a young lady named Alice
who peed in a Indian chalice.
she said, 'i do this
From a great need to piss,
And not from racial malice


You and I
Don’t see
Eye to eye
You are
The canopy
Of a hate filled sky
I am Black
Turned Brown
I don’t lie
You mock
The man in me
You shitless scourge
A sty in a racist
Half open eye
With the help
Of Alice the
Australia Whore
White Woman
Who drinks gets high
Who cant hold her bladder
Who piddles
In my Chalice
The Vixen
Your stuck finger
Between her thighs
Her unnamed
All muti colored
With chequered scarves
Of all the guys
Who left their trade marks
When they did zip by
Your comments dear AJS
Give me an errection
Full blooded poems
Thanks for the Spanish Fly
Bim Bim Bombay Boy
Warm greetings from Mumbai
My Inbox is full
You scumbag need not reply
Go to bed cut the Internet Wires of Hate
And for once tell the World Good Bye

Australian Racist Poet Bad Luck

photo courtesy google images

allan james Saywell (8/29/2007 9:54:00 PM)
There was a young lady named Alice
who peed in a Indian chalice.
she said, 'i do this
From a great need to piss,
And not from racial malice


There was a Fucked Poet
Called Malice
Who was Fucking Alice
He said I need to do this
From a great need to fuck
Yes my little finger in her muck
And my Cock well in the ass
Of a Braywell donkey lies stuck
I am an Australian Racist Poet
Bad Luck
I am an Australian Racist Poet
Bad Luck
Little Indian Bim Bombay
Boys I cant duck
Yes I am unemployed
I write racist poetry
I am out of Work

If wishes were horses Racists would Ride

photo courtesy

If wishes were horses
Poets would write
Good wholesome
Poetry and not slight
Colored poets
With whom they fight
Under black assses
Fires they light
first learn to be a human being
Pianissimo learn to be quiet
Be amicable be nice
Love your colored neighbor
You racist pig corner kick
Someone who is of your height
If wishes were horses
Racists would ride
Once for all into the twilight
From this peaceful Poem hunter website
Warm heartfelt greetings from Mumbai
For your safety and flight
If turnips were racists
Racists alright
I would mash them cook them
Eat them tonight


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo coutretesy+
Poem: 8070771 - A racist straw that broke the camels back

Member: allan james Saywell



your tweed head stuck
between the tits
of raquel welch
bad news that’s what you are
as mentioned in the Daily Squelch

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

The Racist Tree

The Racist Tree
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo courtesy

Long branches of hate
Fruit venomous
For man
Born of a lesser God
This Racist Tree
Evil is evil begets
As poems for posterity
From the tentacles on my
Discolored soul I hope
I will be free
When someone chops
The base of this
Ethnicity debasing tree
That grows down under giving shade to
Neo Nazis racists and other yobos
Of this hate bound blood related family
where they lynch people who write
better bitter poetry

Son of Satan World Cup Shocker

photo google images

A Hate filled locker
3000 poems hawker
Histamine blocker
Racist fascist stocker
Head full of Rolling Stones
This Australian Rocker
This Son of Satan
Multicolored allergy
Face of a cocker
Glib smooth edged talker
World Cup Shocker

Hail Mary Full of Grace

Hail Mary
The Hail Mary (sometimes called the "Angelical salutation", sometimes, from the first words in its Latin form, the "Ave Maria") is the most familiar of all the prayers used by the Universal Church in honour of our Blessed Lady.
It is commonly described as consisting of three parts. The first, "Hail (Mary) full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women", embodies the words used by the Angel Gabriel in saluting the Blessed Virgin (Luke, I, 28). The second, "and blessed is the fruit of thy womb (Jesus)", is borrowed from the Divinely inspired greeting of St. Elizabeth (Luke 1:42), which attaches itself the more naturally to the first part, because the words "benedicta tu in mulieribus" (I, 28) or "inter mulieres" (I, 42) are common to both salutations. Finally, the petition "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." is stated by the official "Catechism of the Council of Trent" to have been framed by the Church itself. "Most rightly", says the Catechism, "has the Holy Church of God added to this thanksgiving, petition also and the invocation of the most holy Mother of God, thereby implying that we should piously and suppliantly have recourse to her in order that by her intercession she may reconcile God with us sinners and obtain for us the blessing we need both for this present life and for the life which has no end."

Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.

Hail Mary full of grace
Why do your children
Hate our race
Knuckle duster hate
With which they
Stamp our colored face
Adoration Salutation
With more hate replace
They want every inch
Of our valued space
our body our soul
to malign maim deface
white feathered peacocks
with an evil trace
man and mankind
they disgrace
if not today
when they
open their inner eyes
Dear Mother Mary
They might touch base

The most famous of these is that attributed, though incorrectly, to Dante, and belonging in any case to the first half of the fourteenth century. In this paraphrase the Hail Mary ends with the following words:
O Vergin benedetta, sempre tu
Ora per noi a Dio, che ci perdoni,
E diaci grazia a viver si quaggiu
Che'l paradiso al nostro fin ci doni;
(Oh blessed Virgin, pray to God for us always, that He may pardon us and give us grace, so to live here below that He may reward us with paradise at our death.)

Poem: 8070771 - A racist straw that broke the camels back
Member: allan james Saywell


Allen james saywell
australian racist poet

Shia Shabbarat Wiladat e Imame Zamana

Yesterday was the Shia and the Sunni Shabbarat.
The Sunnis normally head to the graveyard and to the various Dargahs for a holy vigil all
night and prayers in their Mosques .My staff is all Sunni so I shut shop very early at about 5pm.The other guy who works for me is a Hindu , he did not come to work because of Raksha Bandhan.
I was at home all evening; wife had made Halwa Puri, as this day is the Shia All Souls Day.
We remember our ancestors are near and dear ones who left us this great heritage
that we call Hussainiyat.
Also on this day the Shias celebrate the birthday of the 12 Imam the Mahdi.
Prayers are offered at the graves, I did not go this time to the cemetery.
But at 4.30 am wife and I with my Nikon F100 my Manfrotto monopod headed towards
town, to the pier at Gateway of India , this was my wife Afshaan ‘s first visit in 31 years,
strangely though we stayed at Colaba at my parents house , none of us had ever visited
the pier to watch an event called Bajra.
Bajra means a boat, that florally decked comes to the pier with sweets called Nazar, that you taste,the entire area is jam packed , but as I had left my wife in the ladies section, I came to the pier steps took shots on negatives, later when the boat arrived I entered in took shots of the tasting of the Nazar.
There was a heavy Police Bandobust , due to the blasts in Hyderabad, I was very simply dressed , as I did not want to end up in the local cop station with my wife in tow.
The Shias also come to the pier , to place Arzis in the water, Arzis are papers with prayers on which you write your requests, mix it in flour to be fed to the fishes., to ultimately reach the Imam of our Times , whom we call Imam E Zamana.
We returned home at 7 am, I missed my digital camera so I am posting this with an old picture. The negs will go for processing..
I was shooting pictures after a very long time, my photo stream I fear will look more like Dr Glenn Losacks than my own, but I am humbled that he allows me to post the pictures that he has shot with a true love for my country and its people. His beggar pictures have warmth, they do not insult or humiliate man, but society .We who have turned our backs on our own, the rich become richer the poor they live to die .I don’t think I can shoot pictures like Dr Glenn Losack, I do not have his vision, nor his eye I don’t even have a digital camera. Not having a digital camera is a blessing I am no more trigger happy…I shoot picture on the emulsion of my soul sans camera.

A racist straw that broke the camels back

On embers of hate filled fires
As it leaps pursued by villainous creeps
A colored soul battles with life bleeds
Tempestuous tragedy tears in oyster shells
A sharpened knife that weeps
Born colored dyed red colored
Colored yes for keeps
As the winds of hatred on
Slums and shanties
Of brown eyes black smiles
White washing laundered
Human garbage heaps
Racialism in poetry
A battered bleeding head
As poem wordlessly screaming
On your monitor screen
As it seeps
A camels meditation
in a white mans world
what you sow
someone else reaps

dedicated to a wise man from Coromandel Yoonus Peerbocus Bhai Saab


A public apology is all i want
lower case higher case any font
i will once and for all stop this rant

my first haiku
thank you lady lambeth

Poem Hunter Poets Cast the First Stone

photo courtesy

You without Sin Cast the First Stone

, in John 8:1 - 11 scribes and Pharisees had caught a woman in the act of adultery (the woman commonly referred to as the prostitute) and told Jesus who was teaching in the temple that the Mosaic Law required she be stoned to death. Trying to make an opportunity of this to trick Jesus that they might accuse Him, they, with stones in hand, asked Jesus what He says about the Law. After Jesus tried to ignore their repeated questioning, He told them "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." One by one each man dropped his stone and walked away.

Jesus was not arguing with the judgment. Nor was Jesus arguing neither the law nor the woman's guilt. Jesus was arguing with our right to execute the woman. Once all the men had dropped their stones Jesus confronted the woman and asked her if any of the men were still there to condemn her. When she answered "No man, Lord", Jesus told her that neither did He - He forgave her of her sin. He did not excuse the sin of adultery/prostitution, he forgave her of it. All that is sinful before forgiveness is still sinful after forgiveness. Not only was Jesus not afraid to call a sin a sin, He was not afraid to call a sinner a sinner. He even reminded her of the sin of adultery/prostitution by telling her "Go and sin no more."
Ton Carder Cap Ministry .

I am shocked at my moderatons
fight a battle alone
racist poets who are
hell bent on breaking this
meditating camels back and bone
all around the skin hating
colored drone

Arab Red Indian
Tampon Head my
Persona over blown
To put me out of my misery
Says an Aussie hate
filled drawl and tone
now I ask you what is my guilt
according to Foster Blaine
RIP God save his departed soul
I prostitute poetry but
Its my own
Next Ivan Donne Carswell of a 1000 Poem
Wants me to become a clothier sell gemstone
James Foulk Coat of Arms
Wants me to leave Poem Hunter
Or bodily in the gutters be thrown
Than comes the monstrous cyclone
Devils own
serpent seed
evil blue blood breed
native of Australia
Allen James Saywell
A poem toting trombone
A little member overblown
Tweedle heads Hate home grown
This vociferous white monotone
Vicious viper from the horrid zone
On Google search well known
As Australian Racist Poet
Who prefers my muddied posterior
To a clitoral zone neither Jackies
Nor of Joan’s
Sending me hate filled missives
Testicular Tragedy
A damaged pubic bone

His hate filled comments
After blocking his other 5 clones
Is sadly in a hate filled tone
He hits me runs to the forum
Bombastic bomb shelter
His poetic safety zone
High voltage very verbose
Now I agree let it be known
I am a mediocre poet
I am a pimp poet
I am a prostitute poet
But I have the Black Christ
On my side and he says
In a Hindi Dialect with a Hebraic

Matt. 7:1 "Do not judge, or you too will be judged."
Matt 7:6 "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs

You without Sin Cast the First Stone
A thought for the Guilty God wont condone

Thank You AJS for making me work on battering my rhyming and
Thanks to all the Poetry and Discussion helped thank you Colette
Thank you forum members..
Thank you Ted, Collins , Ask, Tai Chi …and other silent souls
I speak for the colored ones whose turn might be next..Namaskar

Foot note Sayings of Allen James Saywell XXX

Date & Time: 8/22/2007 7:52:00 AM Remove this comment

Poem: 8003197 - Little Indian Boy
Member: allan james Saywell

Comment: man you are one ugly dude in my country we would take you out the back and put you out of your misery, are you a red indian


Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Fangs of Hate Cobra and the Mongoose

photo courtesy

There lived a hate filled cobra in the forests
Who would stealthily crawl
Who thought because he had poisonous fangs
he could kill any animal big or small
all the animals were fed up of him
as I recall
this king of the serpents wanted
to be a king of the entire forest
all around the animal kingdom
a deatly pall
till one day he met his match
a mongoose on close call
he tried to overpower
him with force he did maul
a fight to finish
all the spectators to enthrall
the end came fast and quick
the cobra in the last throes
at the feet of the mongoose sprawled

so the moral even the tiniest
opponent don’t underestimate
don’t go about throwing your weight
don’t blind yourself with so much hate
live and let live don’t tempt your fate
with your congenial surroundings
try to relate ..the laws of nature
don’t desecrate your downfall
round the corner lying in wait
with the other persons point of view
try to equate you are no more
a child at 68 ,,grow up
before its too late
the cobra and the mongoose
could have been soul mate
if the conceited racist cobra
had kept a check
on his emotional state
my advise to brother
allen james saywell
in good faith


photo courtesy

A tampon that got stuck
In a Racist Aussie ass bad luck
Travesty of anal penetration
The bleeding and the Fu**k
The guy doing it to the Racist Aussie
Could not find a condom
So he picked a sanitary towel
As protection he thought
Would work
When he pulled it out
His tumescent member
He realized what the F**k
Like lighting bolt that struck
The god dam tampon
he could not pluck
This guy a driver of a
Delivery truck
Conjoined twins
Both with surnames
Of Schmuck l
Living in a hick town
Tweed heads
That you cannot duck
3000 poems hearse driven
Pulled by a trailer truck

Wiladat e Imame Zamana


This was a greeting sent to me by my dear friend Jalal Kazim a Lucknow born working in China , his father is an eminent poet of Lucknow and Jalal is related to the indomitable Shia force the Lion of Nakhas Maulana Agha Roohi.

Name: MOHAMMAD(as)
Title: AL-MEHDI(as)
Kunyat: ABU QASSEM(as)
Born: On Friday, 15th of Shaban, 225 AH
in Samarra, northern Iraq
Father: The Eleventh Imam Hassan Al-Askari(as)
Mother: Nargis Khatoon
Date of Death: Unknow as he is still living and waiting God's Divine Order to make himself known to the world and fight injustice and instigate justice, law and order for all mankind!
Cause of Death: Killed by a dagger in his chest thrusted by an old Jewish woman.
Buried: Will be buried in Karbala, Iraq


Appearance of the Imam Al-Mehdi(as), "The Awaited One!"
Prophet Essa(as)
The True Second Comming of Jesus Christ(as).

The Twelfth Holy Imam Al-Mehdi, AI-Hujjah(as) the son of the Imam Hassan Al-Askari(as) and Al-Sayyidah Nargis.
He is the last of the Holy Infallible Imams of the people on earth and with him the fine of succession to The Holy Prophet(pbuh&hf) now ends.

He is still, by The Will of Allah(swt), living in this world of ours, but does not appear in the public sight.

He will re-appear to all Mankind only by The Command of God(swt) towards the last days of the Human Civilization at a time when the world will become unbearablely full of injustice and imorality.

The Imam(as) will appear and will:

Crush all kinds of Oppression from any quarter
Restore God's Law and Order and make Justice once again prevail supreme.
The Holy Prophet(pbuh&hf) and the all other Eleven Imams(as) have said that the Imam AI-Mehdi(as) will live until he has full control of the whole wide world, and make Justice prevail and will do away with all kind of tyranny.

He will re-establish the Islamic Religion and make it prevail even though the Paganist and the unbelivers will all dislike and object to his cause violently.


Before this great Imam disappeared from the public sight, by the will of Allah(swt), he lived in his father's house in Samarra,
The people gather their out of respect to this Imam and it is consider his shrine and place of worship to God.

The promised Imam Al-Mahdi
Who is usually mentioned by his title of
AI-Imam Al-Asr, The Imam of the "Period"
Sahib Al-Zaman, The Lord of the Age
His name is the same as that of The Holy Prophet Mohammad Al-Mustafa(pbuh&hf)

He is the son of the Eleventh Holy Imam(as)

He was born in Samarrah in 256/868 and until 260/872 when his father was martyred, lived under his father's care and tutelage. He was hidden from public view and only a few of the elite among the Shia were able to meet him.
After the martyrdom of his father he became the Imam(as) and by Divine.Command went into Ghaybat(Occultation) .

Thereafter he appeared only to his Na'ib (deputies) and even then only in exceptional circumstances.

The lmam(as) chose as a special deputy for a time, Uthman Ibin Sa'id Umari, one of the companions of his father and Grandfather(as) who was his confidant and trusted friend. Through his deputy the Imam would answer the demands and questions of the Shia.
After Uthman Ibin Sa'id, his son Muhammad Ibin Uthman Umari was appointed the deputy of the Imam(as).

After the death of Muhammad ibn Uthman, Abul Qasim Hussain Ibin Ruh Nawbakht was the special deputy, and after his death Ali Ibin Muhammad Simmari was chosen for this task.

A few days before the death of Ali Ibin Muhammad Simmari in 329/939 an order was issued by the Imam(as) stating that in six days Ali Ibin Muhammad Simmari would die.

Henceforth the special deputation of the Imam(as) would an end and the Ghaybat Al-Kubra (Major Occultation) would begin and would continue until the day God grants permission to the Imam(as) to manifest himself.

The Occultation of the Twelfth Imam(as)
This Is divided into two parts
The First, the Ghaybat Al-Sughra
The Minor Occultation
Which began in 260/872 and ended in 329/939, lasting about seventy years

The Second, the Ghaybat Al-Kubra
The Major Occultation
Which commenced in 329/939 and will continue as long as God wills it.
In a hadeeth upon whose authenticity everyone agrees, The Holy Prophet(pbuh&hf) had said,

"If there were to remain in the life of the world but one day,
God would prolong that day until He sends in it a man from my community and my Household.
His name will be the same as my name.

He will fill the earth with Equity and Justice as it was filled with oppression and tyranny."


You give Allen too much credit, his wanker is pea sized, his brain is the size of a grain of sand lodged between his ears. Ted Sheridan

Thank you Ted Sheridan
Three cheers
An Aussie ass
With a bulls eye board
Aborigine spears
Multi racial hate
Laugh your guts out
Dooms day for
Poets turned racists
Racist spurned poets
Is near
Those who read
Allen James Saywell
Don’t read Shakespeare
Those who read
Ivan Donn Carsewell
Yes they read Britney Spears
Laughing gas and mildewed tears
Pompous piss assed
Internet wires
Connected to poetic posteriors
Tarred feathered steers
Like a car with square wheels
Automatic gears
No this variety
has a metro sexual hate for
women..bedraggled queers
one of them loves
Little Indian Boys
Bim Bombay blue eyed bare ass
He would love to chew
with buck teeth a death wish
of my rear
each time like
Little Red Riding Hood
I close my doors
Like a big bad wolf
With a hateful of comment
A banned blocked lupine
To harass me he appears
Ted Sheridan tell me
My dear American friend
Do you have any magic?
That will make this racist
Weapon of Mass Destruction
Besides hate and hate poetry
Does he have any other career?
But of late I seem to love him
This monstrous man who writes
Love poems to me ..Sends me mail
Yes he does call me My Dear

dedicated to Ted Sheridan and Tai Chi Italy

Peacock Pompous Poets of Poemhunter

photo courtesy

These are princely birds all in name
Feathers very bright
Ostentatious on earth
But not in flight
Yes these are pompous peacocks
Poet birds at Poem Hunter
Plucking each other
On this peace loving website
Hatred in their hearts
For crows sparrows and a stray kite
Had they human pea sized brains
They would say this is colored hate
Black and white
Yes you are right
Pompous piss ass poem hunter
Poet peacocks uptight
Migrant variety
That loves to spite
In the hallowed name of poetry
Darkness evil sighted no light
Racist is their genesis based ethos
poetic trash they write
diminishing readership in fright
a candle in the wind a flame
of racist hate ignite
an anthem of racism recite
in their bad times they forget
the Messiah their Savior
remember this poets
Black Jesus Christ
Originality they lack
A drought
A famine stricken blight
Night Raiders of the Ark failures
Drunken demeaning desperados
Retreating into the other side of Midnight

Rakhi ka tyohar

Rakhi ka tyohar
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo google images
Raksha Bandhan (the bond of protection in Hindi) or Rakhi (राखी in Devanāgarī) is a Hindu and Sikh festival, which celebrates the relationship between brothers and sisters. It is celebrated on the full moon of the month of Shraavana.

The festival is marked by the tying of a rakhi, or holy thread by the sister on the wrist of her brother. The brother in return offers a gift to his sister and vows to look after her. The brother and sister traditionally feed each other sweets. It is not necessary that the rakhi can be given only to a brother by birth; any male can be "adopted" as a brother by tying a rakhi on the person, that is "blood brothers and sisters", whether they are cousins or a good friend. Indian history is replete with women asking for protection, through rakhi, from men who were neither their brothers, nor Hindus themselves. Rani Karnavati of Chittor sent a rakhi to the Mughal Emperor Humayun when she was threatened by Bahadur Shah of Mewar. Humayun abandoned an ongoing military campaign to ride to her rescue.

The rakhi may also be tied on other special occasions to show solidarity and kinship (not necessarily only among brothers and sisters), as was done during the Indian independence movement.

Aj hai rakhee ka tyohar
Bhule bhatke bhaie
Dur basi bhanon ka pyaar
Jab hum the chote se
Khub khate the unki mar
Lekin sab se jyada
Hum ko mila
en bhanon ka pyar
hamesha hamari galtiyon
se who hoti thi bezar
aaj usi nasahit ki badaulat
hum ho gaye hoshiyar
aaj bhuli bhatki yaden
taza kar de ti hain
un bahnon ka pyar
ansu mein reh jati hain
chipkar who ghadiyan hazar
jab ham manate hain
rakhee ka tyohar
bhai aur bahan ka rishta
dhage se bandha wah pyaar

a brother remembers his sisters settled far away from him, he remembers the beatings, the sibling rivalry but it was the love of his sisters that has made him what he is today and he remembers today his barren wrist just memories of rakhi that his sister s tied on his hand when he was a kid..

Vulture The King of Birds

photo courtesy Dr Glenn Losack MD

Vulture Rescue is collaboration between a large number of regional and international conservation organizations, working together to help solve the vulture conservation crisis. Vulture Rescue's mission is to "Respond to the vulture crisis in Asia by striving to halt vulture population declines and working to minimize their negative impacts on ecological and human health"

Plumage wings of angels
Flight and grace
The king of birds
The vulture
Like the Parsis
A dying race
The towers of silence
Tears mournfully fall
Dreams we chase
Dreams stolen
Pilfered lost in transit
Never reach base
Generations of pain
That through hope we replace
Our footsteps on the sands of time
With our hate deface
Warring with each other
As we fight for space