Me My Tears Word Press Hijdaeroticness

Me My Tears Word Press Hijdaeroticness
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The picture of this post has disappeared so I put the profile photo of an alaskan fern

These are pictures my cybernetworthiness,the initial period of teething as a blogger, great friends to help you through, specially Yorrik ,Friar Tuck ,Dread Heading from Woolongong, my tryst with poetic culmination of a love for the American Alaskan Fern,the stirrings in the loins of my testicular fortitude, that is my hybrid hyperbolic mind , spasm sprouting seeds of ensuing mindlessness..yes blogging added a engraved image to my pictorial salon saturated ass… this is an important gallery , it is my profile page , what makes me tick…I was the only Indian at Buzznet in this little effervescent , scintillating group of great thinkers, photographers, better than me , who honed me in my art of a heart of a blogger.There was bashings , on my multi colored ass too, burning the ethos of my unsaleable hypersensitive consciousness, yes I am happy guys saw my pictures, read me , my bullshit , some crap, my comments always poetic drivel bought out my pinkness in poetry, my eunuch poetry..

At Buzznet where I spent hours , posting prodigiously , I now post two or three pictures answer comments, tom do you like it, micheal bell, mahayani, scarlet lark ben bell, a few that step on mt via the recent featured picture play xris for me, which was for xris taylor his new born child i pot..she has twinkling camera lens like eyes…she will always remain on my poetic soul my 1000 th poem of my love lorn life.

At Word Press, like a migrating bird I have come to share my unique colorful, world,there is more to me than a saddam poetry, or ling kriya, or sufis or my shiasm or my hijdaeroticness a word coined by laxmi narayan tripathi the metrosexual hijda,, , I am proud that the blog goddess has made a shia thug into a household name.

yes the blog goddess is a house on hold name on the cybernets fiery firmament.

the american women has reshaped my dreams my thoughts my cybernetic finger fucked destiny..

Time: 11/02/2005 7:11 AM

tears to an alaskan fern

The First Tears
(Inuit)

retold by

S. E. Schlosser

Once long ago, Man went hunting along the water’s edge for seals. To Man’s delight, many seals were crowded together along the seashore. He would certainly bring home a great feast for Woman and Son. He crept cautiously towards the seals. The seals grew restless. Man slowed down. Suddenly, the seals began to slip into the water. Man was frantic. His feast was getting away.

Then Man saw a single seal towards the back of the group. It was not moving as quickly as the others. Ah! Here was his prize. He imagined the pride on Woman’s face, the joy in Son’s eyes. Their bellies would be filled for many days from such a seal.

Man crept towards the last seal. It did not see him, or so Man thought. Suddenly, it sprang away and slipped into the water. Man rose to his feet. He was filled with a strange emotion. He felt water begin to drip from his eyes. He touched his eyes and tasted the drops. Yes, they tasted like salty water. Strange choking sounds were coming from his mouth and chest.

Son heard the cries of Man and called Woman. They ran to the seashore to find out what was wrong with Man. Woman and Son were alarmed to see water flowing out of Man’s eyes.

Man told them about the shore filled with seals. He told how he had hunted them, and how every seal had escaped his knife. As he spoke, water began to flow from the eyes of Woman and Son, and they cried with Man. In this way, people first learned to weep.

Later, Man and Son hunted a seal together. They killed it and used its skin to make snares for more seals.

I as a Shia , am born of a Race that was specially made for the Daughter of the Holy Prophet,to mourn the Martyrdom of Hazrat Imam Hussain to weep and cry year after year for 14oo years this is known as a Maksade Fatima for a Maksade Hussain.

I am a Shia lost in the resounding rapids of the Inuit folklore..in the swirling waters of Alaska I am offering what is left in my bowl of life.. fresh tears,, untouched.. peace loving pristine… unpolluted by the ways of this world.

This is a folklore too falling in love with eyes closed…on the internet…

January 17th, 2007