Saturday, July 14, 2007

A Shia Child Father of Man

he does what his father did when he was a child
this shia child father of man
slashing his chest with a razor blade
as best as he can
the spirit of
the strength of his clan
his spituality
allah ho akbar
you dont need to scan
in the holy waters of his mothers womb
before he was a seed he became man
bringing forth a message of tabbarah
before life began
keeping the apsidistra of hussain
alive part of his plan
everyday is ashura
every land is karbala
the boy the child the shia man
for it it was ali the first caliph
not abubaker umar or othman
man kunto maulah
fayzayun ali unmaulah
the Holy Prophets true kinsman

The Chant of Ya Hussain

Allah Ho Akbar
Shia children
are immune to pain
cut scourge bruise bleed
healed by the chant
of ya hussain
ya hussain
ya hussain

Yeh Alam Shabbir ka

alamgir ko bhi hi pasand aaya
sar shaee mazloom
shabbir ka
sar deke jhuka dala
gharana kaffir e yazid ka
Shah ast Hussain, Badshah ast Hussain,
Deen ast Hussain, Deen Panah ast Hussain,
Sar dad, na dad dast, dar dast-e-yazeed,
Haqaa key binaey La ila ast Hussain
es se badkar kya milega
karnama shabbir ka
ham to hain shabbir ke
allah bhi hai shabbir ka
hamari kismet ka sahara
yeh khoon hai shabbir ka
yeh matam yeh majlis
yeh azadari ..
yeh nazara khuda ke nur ka
hindustan mein basa hai
dil hamare shabbir ka
ya ali jaisa baap ho
beta hai aise veer ka
kate hathon pe
leharata hai
mashke sakina
ko behlaa hai
yeh alam shaabbir ka

I am crying after writing this.. Shia Pandit.

Poemhunter Revisited

When I first came to Poem hunter
I was a first time poet prostitute
Whoring words cock-neighed
Overemphasizing a human flute
Yes the delirious joys
On the wings of my pedestrian poetry
Clinging to a parachute
1002 poems inspired
By an American Blog goddess
Journaler writer of repute
For reasons unknown to me
I deleted all my poems
Silently silent
I went mute
Giving myself free
The whoring wisdom
Legs spread wide
Indian poet prostitute
Now I have come back
More focused poetic thoughts
More resolute
Words in a gilded cage
Portrayed as pictures
That I shoot
With a few pompous
Poets in this corridor
I have no dispute
Judge me as a Man
Not just as a poem or a poet
If you too are human and astute
Knowledge for all live and learn
Different branches but one root
You dress up your pleasure
And your pain
Our flesh hidden as a spirit
In our birthday suit.
Peace Hope Harmony
A Quest a Request
Poetic Pleasantries as pursuit.

I pledge this poem to all at Poemhunter
Including Foster Blaine, Carsewell down under poet.
But mostly to
Will Barber
Tai Chi Italy
Yoounus Peerbocus
Ted Sheridan
On the Wandering Hood and Perplexitude
The First Shirke
Tempest Livesey
Lilac Wine
Jemarie Ragudo
Ravindran NV
Leonard Daranjo
Mary Naylor
g c still
marvin brato


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
kashmiryat in the
eyes of this little girl child in bloom
a valley gods heavenly paradise
turned to gloom
they all shed tears
when will we start living again
when will peace resume
a cherished land
of muslims pandits sufis
hatredness wants to consume
broken black boards
tattered school books
the kids across the borders
silence screeching
in empty class rooms

parents alive
the bodies of their children
feelings , memories
dead childhood
oh how to exhume
some more sorrow
voices in a newsroom
a bride mehndi
turned to blood
sits on the grave of her bridegroom
a mother raped
someone elses child in her womb
yes terrorism of mind body soul
mankind up in fumes
all around
sounds of gunfire
unceasing doom
who is right
who is wrong
who is weak
who is strong
strewn among dead bodies
an ancestral heirloom
to clean up
all this rot
a new tomorrow
hope fragrance of perfume
mutual coexistence
alittle love lliving
each one giving the other
a little elbow room
that strong spirit
will always
remain ablooom
says a voice
from within
the hazrats tomb

I have never visited Kashmir,I was In Ladakh but missed it by a whisker, I meet Kashmiri s who want me to come celebrate Moharam in Srinagar , but this wish never materialized, I saw this little Kashmiri girl with her young parents in the train on my way back to Mumbai from Delhi..seeing her eyes the words of this poem started flowing like an ebullient stream in hurry to meet her lover on the river bank...We all hope for Peace for everyone in the Valley ..may Sanity prevail.. may the kind winds spread kindness all around...
Kashmiryat means the undying spirit of Kashmir.
Firoze Shakir
2 May 2007

Kettle Calling the Poet Black

yes I am black
burnt out
charred out black
love is a visor
narrow minded
view from a crack
vaginal monologue
petered out phone jack
her thoughts
her memories
detoured back track
literary hack
her whims and fancies
unposted fusillades
silently my soul attack
a journey into her heart
a weather beaten track.
words whored to a sentence
unpoetically unpack.

Khwajah Khizar in a Heart beat

Khwajah Khizar is Sufi Saint who was the erstwhile teacher of the Holy Saint Makhdoum Shah Baba a Spiritual Fountainhead of Sufism,the greatest Saint of Maharashtra ..the gateway of God through Mahim.,
At Kwajah Khizars shrine in the sea at Mahim recently the saline water had turned sweet..
This is one of my favorite pictorial haunts.,.a place of Peace and Calm.

Salt water turned sweet
Dust and heat
A heart
A heart beat
Love of God
A Dargah
Lashed by waves
Kwajah Khizar
Where all souls meet

Wise Man and a Fool

Behind every Wise Man lies the Widom Of a Fool
The Foolish Wise Man has never gone to School
Knowledge riding like a load of bricks on his Mule
Burning fires as poetic emotions words logged as fuel

I Shut my Facebook Account ,, Targeted Shia Harassment

27 May 2018 As a Shia I am targeted even  by  Sufis Sufism that  I promoted vigorously as a Malang .. I have renounced my Malang...