image courtesy
caroleknits.knitblog.com/candle_flame.jpg
The candle like a nun
Weeping tungsten tears
Hot blood flame tears
Of eyes gouged out by spears
Sometimes she talks of comets
Sometimes Shakespeare
Something to my embryonic
Head of a mind
Does not seem clear
Quetzalcoatl will return
To his Empire..
Those who don’t believe sneer
Howlin ( ayn )she will not fear
Kings English at the First Strike
As my time to burn on her poetic pyre
Draws near
What’s the catch? I said
When she first as a message
In my deflated inbox did appear
Lisbeth of Lambeth
Beyond my minds
Barbed wired frontier
Is it the candle?
Or is it the flame
That leaving waxen woes
On the table spread
Will soon disappear
The origin of the flame
Paying for the sins of Man
A thought austere …
Reflected sorrow
enchained to a tear
Monday, July 16, 2007
A Shia Child and His Heritage
he has cut his forehead
an oath fulfilled in blood
that he shed..
he wears black
his moment of grief
the color red
droplets like a little
stream
flowing from his head
in his mothers womb
crypted embedded spread
his faith in ahle bayth alive
tied like an umbilical cord
to karbala with a silken thread
in memory of an Imam
they the followers of a Yazidi Islam
did behead
no ordinary human head
head of the beloved grandson
of the Holy Prophet instead
shiasm not just a sect in Islam
but Truth that could not be strangulated
a thought widespread of a purebred
a sciptured Inheritance of Qum Al Ghadeer
Man Kunto Maulah
they knew but never said
to the ignorant illiterate unread
with money lies
the entire ummah they misled
now on a path of yazidiyat
like their forefathers they tread
sabotaging brotherhood and peace
with some more bloodshed
an oath fulfilled in blood
that he shed..
he wears black
his moment of grief
the color red
droplets like a little
stream
flowing from his head
in his mothers womb
crypted embedded spread
his faith in ahle bayth alive
tied like an umbilical cord
to karbala with a silken thread
in memory of an Imam
they the followers of a Yazidi Islam
did behead
no ordinary human head
head of the beloved grandson
of the Holy Prophet instead
shiasm not just a sect in Islam
but Truth that could not be strangulated
a thought widespread of a purebred
a sciptured Inheritance of Qum Al Ghadeer
Man Kunto Maulah
they knew but never said
to the ignorant illiterate unread
with money lies
the entire ummah they misled
now on a path of yazidiyat
like their forefathers they tread
sabotaging brotherhood and peace
with some more bloodshed
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
image courtesy
www.pinktentacle.com/images/comet_1.jpg
CALPURNIA
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
CAESAR
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Julius Caesar Act II scene ii
a beggar
poetically crippled
a bit shy
your tremendous knowledge
within which like an
egg i fry
to catch up
with you
thank god google
i try
i saw a comet
i did not die
before the cock crows
three times
the messiah
i too will deny
words can make poems
but can poems
make me see
the nebulous
eagle like
pillars of creation
that i deny
hidden within
her oyster eye
a comet that
death defy
www.pinktentacle.com/images/comet_1.jpg
CALPURNIA
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
CAESAR
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Julius Caesar Act II scene ii
a beggar
poetically crippled
a bit shy
your tremendous knowledge
within which like an
egg i fry
to catch up
with you
thank god google
i try
i saw a comet
i did not die
before the cock crows
three times
the messiah
i too will deny
words can make poems
but can poems
make me see
the nebulous
eagle like
pillars of creation
that i deny
hidden within
her oyster eye
a comet that
death defy
Eagle Nebula
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eagle_Nebula
pillars of creation
in formative
stages of her mind
a multi colored body
not born to be color blind
pillars of creation
in formative
stages of her mind
a multi colored body
not born to be color blind
lisbeth of lambeth
we got even
poeticaly copulating words
doing it the way of the
bees and the birds
saggitarian
dec 10 th to the core
this dreamer romantic
cybernetic nerd
a concoction
coffee chocolate champagne
you stirred
lisbeth of lambeth
you say you have not heard
poeticaly copulating words
doing it the way of the
bees and the birds
saggitarian
dec 10 th to the core
this dreamer romantic
cybernetic nerd
a concoction
coffee chocolate champagne
you stirred
lisbeth of lambeth
you say you have not heard
In the Beginning was the Word
In the Beginning
was the Word
as it occured
YA ALLAH
through the
Holy Prophet
we heard
Koranic Verses
spirtually
calligraphed
on our human hearts
transferred
Man
the beginning
of Faith
undettered
sciptured silence
notes on our soul
unlettered
from one generation
to another generation
genetically conferred
when in trouble
it was those scriptures
that we reffered
April 30th, 2007
was the Word
as it occured
YA ALLAH
through the
Holy Prophet
we heard
Koranic Verses
spirtually
calligraphed
on our human hearts
transferred
Man
the beginning
of Faith
undettered
sciptured silence
notes on our soul
unlettered
from one generation
to another generation
genetically conferred
when in trouble
it was those scriptures
that we reffered
April 30th, 2007
In The Dungeons Of Your Desire
In The Dungeons of your Desire
I intend to stay.
Come what may..
Working my balls of
Without rest or pay..
I hope you slept
woke up to a good day..
shall we start all over again
Cyberpettinng
Cyberclawing
some foreplay
Rigidity of a Romance
Of a burning coal
That wont die or
fade away
In the Dungeons of your Desire
I intend to stay
testicular tragedy
molten lava
dripping on my
feet made of clay
these are old poems reminding me of poetic naievete ..trying to bloom like a sty in her eye.. a testicular fortitude that became a testicular tragedy.
I intend to stay.
Come what may..
Working my balls of
Without rest or pay..
I hope you slept
woke up to a good day..
shall we start all over again
Cyberpettinng
Cyberclawing
some foreplay
Rigidity of a Romance
Of a burning coal
That wont die or
fade away
In the Dungeons of your Desire
I intend to stay
testicular tragedy
molten lava
dripping on my
feet made of clay
these are old poems reminding me of poetic naievete ..trying to bloom like a sty in her eye.. a testicular fortitude that became a testicular tragedy.
In the Memory of a Mad Metaphoric Dog
Canine toothed, Cataclysmic Cantankerous Dog
Catnapped, Catcalled, Cat pawed, Cat walked Dog
Challenged, Changeovered , Checkmated Choleric Dog
Cleavage pawing, Cocktail compromising , Cocksure Dog
Commode competent , Cross eyed, Cryptic, Cultured Cosmic Dog
Computer Compulsive, Comparatively Communicative Colored Dog
Clitoral Calisthenics, Castanet Clicking, Cataleptic Choreographer Dog
Camera Chronic, Chromium plated, Complicated Canonized Dog
Colorblind ,Combustible ,Contradictory, Consequential Cornered Dog.
Catnapped, Catcalled, Cat pawed, Cat walked Dog
Challenged, Changeovered , Checkmated Choleric Dog
Cleavage pawing, Cocktail compromising , Cocksure Dog
Commode competent , Cross eyed, Cryptic, Cultured Cosmic Dog
Computer Compulsive, Comparatively Communicative Colored Dog
Clitoral Calisthenics, Castanet Clicking, Cataleptic Choreographer Dog
Camera Chronic, Chromium plated, Complicated Canonized Dog
Colorblind ,Combustible ,Contradictory, Consequential Cornered Dog.
Man loves killing Man
god made
man
man made
god
godliness
waylaid
man made god
needs an excuse to raid blockade
weapons of mass destruction
another charade to
the rights of another country invade
imperialistic hegemony
revivalism of a new crusade
iraq and its people betrayed
a hope delayed
peace an old persian carpet
torn tattered and frayed
israel britain other allies
to loot pillage
masquerade
retaliation
sectarian violence on parade
a bullet a suicide bomber
or a death with your
name initialled on a hand grenade
a political pestilence
as a card overplayed
robbing a country for its fuel
robbing a country of its freedom
american political thought unafraid
making a killing overstayed
shelterless man
without a shade
the unborn child
dead before
he can move out
of a womb of a world
of a palisade
man loves killing man
a crime
that god forbade
man
man made
god
godliness
waylaid
man made god
needs an excuse to raid blockade
weapons of mass destruction
another charade to
the rights of another country invade
imperialistic hegemony
revivalism of a new crusade
iraq and its people betrayed
a hope delayed
peace an old persian carpet
torn tattered and frayed
israel britain other allies
to loot pillage
masquerade
retaliation
sectarian violence on parade
a bullet a suicide bomber
or a death with your
name initialled on a hand grenade
a political pestilence
as a card overplayed
robbing a country for its fuel
robbing a country of its freedom
american political thought unafraid
making a killing overstayed
shelterless man
without a shade
the unborn child
dead before
he can move out
of a womb of a world
of a palisade
man loves killing man
a crime
that god forbade
In The Shade of the Lord
one day
we have to go
a thought we forget
our mind we defraud
building a babel
of false hopes
just like nimrod
but yet
those whom we love
when they go
we curse our fate
blame god
for cheating us
treating us rough shod
the soul of the departed
a new journey unawed
we too that path will trod
passing away of dear friend roopa gupta
her funeral cortege scene
we have to go
a thought we forget
our mind we defraud
building a babel
of false hopes
just like nimrod
but yet
those whom we love
when they go
we curse our fate
blame god
for cheating us
treating us rough shod
the soul of the departed
a new journey unawed
we too that path will trod
passing away of dear friend roopa gupta
her funeral cortege scene
India is for Indians not for Taslima Nasreen
Times of India march 13 2007
Taslima blames Bengal for delay in citizenship.
Bangladeshi writerTaslima Nasreen on Monday blamed the West Bengal
Governmentof ‘coming in the way of the Centre granting her citizenship status’
Its time we say good bye to bad rubbish
To begin
Send her back from where she came
Let nothing come in between
Let her burn the Hijab in Bangladesh
A thought that the ideals of
Muslim woman hood demean
Sensationalizing hate
A woman who a Muslim has never been
Yes I mean Taslima Nasreen
She does not have the qualities
To live or settle among us Indians
It’s not at all in her gene
Her corrupted mind
To inflame hurt
Religious sentiments
With more such rants
Obscene..
Her overstaying our
Hospitality
Is bad for our secular hygiene.
Once you are infected
Of what use is an untimely vaccine
Taslima blames Bengal for delay in citizenship.
Bangladeshi writerTaslima Nasreen on Monday blamed the West Bengal
Governmentof ‘coming in the way of the Centre granting her citizenship status’
Its time we say good bye to bad rubbish
To begin
Send her back from where she came
Let nothing come in between
Let her burn the Hijab in Bangladesh
A thought that the ideals of
Muslim woman hood demean
Sensationalizing hate
A woman who a Muslim has never been
Yes I mean Taslima Nasreen
She does not have the qualities
To live or settle among us Indians
It’s not at all in her gene
Her corrupted mind
To inflame hurt
Religious sentiments
With more such rants
Obscene..
Her overstaying our
Hospitality
Is bad for our secular hygiene.
Once you are infected
Of what use is an untimely vaccine
India Shining
man
demonically
distrustful man
dehyderated de toxified
dangerously demystified man
dubiously diabolical devious man
asleep
under the tree of knowledge
political shadows creep
cost of living terrorisingly expensive
dreams within dreams nightmarish
lyricless lullifying dreams that are cheap
baba saheb ambedkar if he was alive
seeing the irony unconstitutional
politicised plagiarism would weep
india shining empty hopes
empty promises
that man to man god to man
man to god cant keep
sssh let him sleep
firoze shakir
I shot this close to my shop…this was the last picture on my Nikon D70 after this it went Kaput , Comatose , just when I had paid of the last premium on a three year loan I took from Standard Chartered Bank to buy this camera…a faulty , defective camera, Nikon knows it too, but than the buzz word is you make more money in repairs than selling new cameras…this is a had core truth…it hurts me as I shoot as an amateur hobbyist, I share my pictures free on the net , my India , that I show you all out there.
April 29th, 2007
demonically
distrustful man
dehyderated de toxified
dangerously demystified man
dubiously diabolical devious man
asleep
under the tree of knowledge
political shadows creep
cost of living terrorisingly expensive
dreams within dreams nightmarish
lyricless lullifying dreams that are cheap
baba saheb ambedkar if he was alive
seeing the irony unconstitutional
politicised plagiarism would weep
india shining empty hopes
empty promises
that man to man god to man
man to god cant keep
sssh let him sleep
firoze shakir
I shot this close to my shop…this was the last picture on my Nikon D70 after this it went Kaput , Comatose , just when I had paid of the last premium on a three year loan I took from Standard Chartered Bank to buy this camera…a faulty , defective camera, Nikon knows it too, but than the buzz word is you make more money in repairs than selling new cameras…this is a had core truth…it hurts me as I shoot as an amateur hobbyist, I share my pictures free on the net , my India , that I show you all out there.
April 29th, 2007
India Today
As you sow so shall you pay
All about religion and
Games people play
Temple mosque church and synagogue
When you lose your way
Spiritual darkness
Power failure
And your path astray
Blindfolded your soul
Leads you to India
To Master One way
Om Mani Padme Hum
Avalokiteshvara,
To Love Chant and to Pray
Some foreigners convert
To Hinduism
Hare Rama Hare Krishna
Noble thoughts
To obey
Better late than Never
Hindutva to
Western Christian decay
Or Evangelist power play
Our Hospitality
Overstay
Our Culture
OurRituals
Our Inheritance
Our Traditions
A garland
To a spiritual soul
As bouquet
All this on a spiritually
Stamped passport
Visa check
Emigrations not required
In India today
poem no 615
All about religion and
Games people play
Temple mosque church and synagogue
When you lose your way
Spiritual darkness
Power failure
And your path astray
Blindfolded your soul
Leads you to India
To Master One way
Om Mani Padme Hum
Avalokiteshvara,
To Love Chant and to Pray
Some foreigners convert
To Hinduism
Hare Rama Hare Krishna
Noble thoughts
To obey
Better late than Never
Hindutva to
Western Christian decay
Or Evangelist power play
Our Hospitality
Overstay
Our Culture
OurRituals
Our Inheritance
Our Traditions
A garland
To a spiritual soul
As bouquet
All this on a spiritually
Stamped passport
Visa check
Emigrations not required
In India today
poem no 615
Quetzalcoatl shall return
photo courtesy
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quetzalcoatl
life we lead
leaderless we burn
good thing in life
seem rotten we spurn
imagery of uneeded wants
we churn
leaving so much undone
"You have graciously come on earth, you have graciously approached your water, your high place of Mexico, you have come down to your mat, your throne, which I have briefly kept for you, I who used to keep it for you,"
and,
"You have graciously arrived, you have known pain, you have known weariness, now come on earth, take your rest, enter into your palace, rest your limbs; may our lords come on earth."
an american lady
hidden among indian ancient thoughts tells
me firoze ..hold your breath
Quetzacoatl will return..
you me she will be one
read unlearn
You proved that here in this dusty archive. Where scholars meet students, where students meet what passes for reality...on a good day.
Arjuna turned to Krishna, both on the battlefield, and, perplexed, asked Krishna a question, 'My uncle is my opponent this day. Why must I attempt to kill my own blood? ' Krishna replied, 'You are a soldier. You must fulfill your destiny. Killing your uncle is not the bad thing. The bad thing is not fullfilling what you were meant to do.'
Strange things for a Westener to read. Understanding this is easy for me.
Gitas. Ancient.
Eternal ...
Pasted poetry under a burning sun
I too think Quetzacoatl shall return
to lisbeth
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quetzalcoatl
life we lead
leaderless we burn
good thing in life
seem rotten we spurn
imagery of uneeded wants
we churn
leaving so much undone
"You have graciously come on earth, you have graciously approached your water, your high place of Mexico, you have come down to your mat, your throne, which I have briefly kept for you, I who used to keep it for you,"
and,
"You have graciously arrived, you have known pain, you have known weariness, now come on earth, take your rest, enter into your palace, rest your limbs; may our lords come on earth."
an american lady
hidden among indian ancient thoughts tells
me firoze ..hold your breath
Quetzacoatl will return..
you me she will be one
read unlearn
You proved that here in this dusty archive. Where scholars meet students, where students meet what passes for reality...on a good day.
Arjuna turned to Krishna, both on the battlefield, and, perplexed, asked Krishna a question, 'My uncle is my opponent this day. Why must I attempt to kill my own blood? ' Krishna replied, 'You are a soldier. You must fulfill your destiny. Killing your uncle is not the bad thing. The bad thing is not fullfilling what you were meant to do.'
Strange things for a Westener to read. Understanding this is easy for me.
Gitas. Ancient.
Eternal ...
Pasted poetry under a burning sun
I too think Quetzacoatl shall return
to lisbeth
Indian Idol Ki Awaz
Kya Dilli main hai wo awaz
jis par ho desh ko naaz?
Dilli hai ek aisi nagri
jis par nirbhar hai
hum sab ki awaz
koie bewakoof
koie mukkadar ka sikandar
koie akalmand
aur sare tirnandaz
babugiri rahe salamat
unpar chalta hai desh
ka karobar
Indian Idol
Hamare neta
Suno bhai unki awaz
Mithi surili baton se
Kiya hai desh ka satyanas
Jkute kasme wade
Ham ko kar diya barbad
Bhaison ki tarah
Hame charakar
Khud khai dher sari mithai
Humko khilaee sukhi ghas
Hawai jahaz main
Human trafficking
ka naya ithihas
India Shining Ka
Wah Kya Abhyas
Adhi umar beet gayee
Prime minister
Banne ka phir bhi khab
Nare bazi gharibi bhagao
Desh ko mitao
Yeh hamare desh ke sutradhar
hindu muslim
ko jhagda karakar
karte hain desh ka batwar
jhagde phasad
encounter killing
aur kitne sare bhrastachar
Indian Idol
Yehi kahlayenge
Sare desh main
Goojti hai
Dilli se inki awaz
Sony television channel
Par har hafte dehkiye
Inke bhasan ka chamtakar
Netagiri Ki
Jai jai kar
Jai jai kar
This was shot during the Moharam Chehlum procession.
May 1st, 2007
jis par ho desh ko naaz?
Dilli hai ek aisi nagri
jis par nirbhar hai
hum sab ki awaz
koie bewakoof
koie mukkadar ka sikandar
koie akalmand
aur sare tirnandaz
babugiri rahe salamat
unpar chalta hai desh
ka karobar
Indian Idol
Hamare neta
Suno bhai unki awaz
Mithi surili baton se
Kiya hai desh ka satyanas
Jkute kasme wade
Ham ko kar diya barbad
Bhaison ki tarah
Hame charakar
Khud khai dher sari mithai
Humko khilaee sukhi ghas
Hawai jahaz main
Human trafficking
ka naya ithihas
India Shining Ka
Wah Kya Abhyas
Adhi umar beet gayee
Prime minister
Banne ka phir bhi khab
Nare bazi gharibi bhagao
Desh ko mitao
Yeh hamare desh ke sutradhar
hindu muslim
ko jhagda karakar
karte hain desh ka batwar
jhagde phasad
encounter killing
aur kitne sare bhrastachar
Indian Idol
Yehi kahlayenge
Sare desh main
Goojti hai
Dilli se inki awaz
Sony television channel
Par har hafte dehkiye
Inke bhasan ka chamtakar
Netagiri Ki
Jai jai kar
Jai jai kar
This was shot during the Moharam Chehlum procession.
May 1st, 2007
Indian Parakeet Flown the Coop
yes the indian parakeet
blindfolded unloved
a cybernetic dupe
has flown the coop
fresh pastures
poem producing lands
to recoup
before he ended up
on a blog goddess
dining table
shot feathered
barbecued as
parrot soup
to be served
as an appetizer
for a motley group
his innards
and what remains
of his wisdom
swoop
she and her friends
after dinner
samba
some hula hoop.
blindfolded unloved
a cybernetic dupe
has flown the coop
fresh pastures
poem producing lands
to recoup
before he ended up
on a blog goddess
dining table
shot feathered
barbecued as
parrot soup
to be served
as an appetizer
for a motley group
his innards
and what remains
of his wisdom
swoop
she and her friends
after dinner
samba
some hula hoop.
Innocence takes a Rap
This is an old deleted memory I saved .
This is my 400 th poem at poem hunter.com, I never ever wanted to be a poet, nor a photographer , I never wrote a single word before my advent on the internet.As a kid in school I was considered brainy as I read a lot.I could see things unseen to the human eye, pain beneath the makeup, cries and dried tears on hankies, my mother and her love for my father, my father and his demonic love for the Other Woman.
So I took a camera to decipher on the emulsion of my soul the transcient nature of Mans suffering...I shot the Kumbh Mela, Blood Moharram and Weeping Faith of the Shia, I shot the insides of church and the litany of love for the Messiah on stained window panes, I shot Sufis , pierced eyes, pierced souls and slaughtered tongues, I shot the King cobra on Naag Panchami and his fangs just a whisker away, as I believed that the Camera is Shivas third eye.
I shot street life but what really shot me down was the girl child begging at Mumbai Traffic signals, from morning to dusk, haunting eyes, perpetual smile, love that will soon vanish away, yes being a pretty girl child is a greater risk than AIDS , I have seen young girls selling paper flags on our Independence day, later I would see her hardly 12 years and carrying a child within her childhood.
This poem is my tribute to the girl child do see this picture of a smile and a burnt cheek on the face of Poverty.Her mother has put a hot iron on her cherubic cheek, gets more alms it is said.
Sympathy the Curse of Humanity.
Innocence takes a rap
a kick, a hit a slap
a burning branded mark
on the cheek
childhood in a trap.
tears for sale
traffic signal kids
rest of life is a crap.
plundered innocence,
raped mutilated,
sodomized while
time and timelessness
takes a nap.
blood marked
pre menstrual
machinations
on the map.
little dead bodies
dead hopes
buried
in burlap.
I am crying such is the nature of Man..I am a father of a Girl Child.
Old memories of my first stint at poemhunter...
This is my 400 th poem at poem hunter.com, I never ever wanted to be a poet, nor a photographer , I never wrote a single word before my advent on the internet.As a kid in school I was considered brainy as I read a lot.I could see things unseen to the human eye, pain beneath the makeup, cries and dried tears on hankies, my mother and her love for my father, my father and his demonic love for the Other Woman.
So I took a camera to decipher on the emulsion of my soul the transcient nature of Mans suffering...I shot the Kumbh Mela, Blood Moharram and Weeping Faith of the Shia, I shot the insides of church and the litany of love for the Messiah on stained window panes, I shot Sufis , pierced eyes, pierced souls and slaughtered tongues, I shot the King cobra on Naag Panchami and his fangs just a whisker away, as I believed that the Camera is Shivas third eye.
I shot street life but what really shot me down was the girl child begging at Mumbai Traffic signals, from morning to dusk, haunting eyes, perpetual smile, love that will soon vanish away, yes being a pretty girl child is a greater risk than AIDS , I have seen young girls selling paper flags on our Independence day, later I would see her hardly 12 years and carrying a child within her childhood.
This poem is my tribute to the girl child do see this picture of a smile and a burnt cheek on the face of Poverty.Her mother has put a hot iron on her cherubic cheek, gets more alms it is said.
Sympathy the Curse of Humanity.
Innocence takes a rap
a kick, a hit a slap
a burning branded mark
on the cheek
childhood in a trap.
tears for sale
traffic signal kids
rest of life is a crap.
plundered innocence,
raped mutilated,
sodomized while
time and timelessness
takes a nap.
blood marked
pre menstrual
machinations
on the map.
little dead bodies
dead hopes
buried
in burlap.
I am crying such is the nature of Man..I am a father of a Girl Child.
Old memories of my first stint at poemhunter...
inshallah
a chaddar
a new hope
binding me
his godliness
to the poor
mans saint
like a hemp rope
as a blind folded man
within my soul
for a god
unseen i grope
a down ward
incline to my fortunes
as i try climbing back a slope
winding through the alleys
of mistrust bad kismet
inshallah
an escape to a good hope
a new hope
binding me
his godliness
to the poor
mans saint
like a hemp rope
as a blind folded man
within my soul
for a god
unseen i grope
a down ward
incline to my fortunes
as i try climbing back a slope
winding through the alleys
of mistrust bad kismet
inshallah
an escape to a good hope
Inundated Cybernetic Love
a poet born
cause celebrated
than came love
effect animated
unthoughtfully belated
most wanted
most hated
cybernetic love
finger fucked
copulated
a poem impregnated
a drip of internet wires
burst the dams
unaggregated
of hope and survival
weeping sluice gates
of the heart
drowned desolated
what was left
all inundated
one sided
teasing love
the very start
before she wrote
the first comments
on my post
ill timed ill fated
forbiddingly abbreviated
unaccomodated
plethora of pictorially
panic stricken thoughts
poems castarated
doomed desecrated
her heart a sin drying
washing machine
a vortex
where my words
like my emotions
unwashed
untranslated
died unabated
asphyxiated
no hope of ever
being reborn
as untimely love
or being reinstated
dangerously
destroyed
decimated
feelings
emasculated
hastly cremated
my ashes on the altar
of a peace goddess
duly hypothecated
poem no 737
cause celebrated
than came love
effect animated
unthoughtfully belated
most wanted
most hated
cybernetic love
finger fucked
copulated
a poem impregnated
a drip of internet wires
burst the dams
unaggregated
of hope and survival
weeping sluice gates
of the heart
drowned desolated
what was left
all inundated
one sided
teasing love
the very start
before she wrote
the first comments
on my post
ill timed ill fated
forbiddingly abbreviated
unaccomodated
plethora of pictorially
panic stricken thoughts
poems castarated
doomed desecrated
her heart a sin drying
washing machine
a vortex
where my words
like my emotions
unwashed
untranslated
died unabated
asphyxiated
no hope of ever
being reborn
as untimely love
or being reinstated
dangerously
destroyed
decimated
feelings
emasculated
hastly cremated
my ashes on the altar
of a peace goddess
duly hypothecated
poem no 737
TO GROWLI 'N DERVISH (ayn)
father son and the unholy ghost
post compost
multi colored ass
skewered
comments grilled
barbecued at the most
served hot
with burnt out toast
Sare Dushman
Kuch Kum Dost
at poemhunter
they love to roast
last two lines in Hindi means all enemies just a few friends.
post compost
multi colored ass
skewered
comments grilled
barbecued at the most
served hot
with burnt out toast
Sare Dushman
Kuch Kum Dost
at poemhunter
they love to roast
last two lines in Hindi means all enemies just a few friends.
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Shah-e-Mardan Sher-e-Yazdan Quwat-e-Parwardigar Lafata Ila Ali La Saif Ila Zulfiqar , originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1 ....
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Dargah of Hazrat Syed Ali Mira Datar Unava Gujrat , a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. HAZRAT SYED ALI MIRA DATAR'S G...
