Saturday, August 11, 2007

Sex Change PhotographerNo1

The net of law is spread so wide,

No sinner from its sweep may hide.

Its meshes are so fine and strong,

They take in every child of wrong.

O! wondorous web of mystery!

Big fish alone escape from thee

J J Roche, the net of law

My life is the autumn leaf

That trembles in the moons pale ray;

Its hold is frail-its date is brief,

Restless, and soon to pass away.

Richard Henry Wilde ,my life

Well I am not a poet, was never trained in fine arts and have no inclination to become one, but I confess words brothers and sisters of words I use, help me and prompt me , I don’t have to shadow box ,and the prompted word fits like ying to a yang.

At the flea market I picked up some fabulous old collections of poets, Christina Rosetti,Elizabeth Barret Browning,and Byron, and Keats,and Shelley.
But never got to reading any one of them, only what I read in school.
My favorite was "When I consider how my life is spent in this dark world and wide,and that one talent which is death to hide".Milton
I guess.Alji is an expert on all this and also astrological compatibility charts,Ribstealer told me since I arrived on the scene at Buzznet all folks even those that are scared of the written word are coming out of their camphor ball filled closets.
And I think poetry even drivel like I use sometimes is the best way of massaging the soul of your loved ones,. not too vigorously or the effect will be prosaic.
And you should no cooking, dont laugh; the way to your lover nowadays is through his uncancerous esophagus and poetry to reaches the destination without getting lost in transit.
And I am sure if I was not a Bollywood Celebrity Tailorman I could have taken up apprentice ship or an understudy to a fraudulent con man of a Godman, raked in lots of moolah,,no Islamic pun intended, but the problem is I am a God abiding and God fearing man.. I don’t want to get even with humanity for having conned me into making a man, and I doubt it would have helped as a woman, imagine Photographer no1 as a woman.. pure fucking disaster the first guy after my ass would be Friar,, next Xris don’t trust him shallow waters run very deep, I think Silver wouldn’t cause me much harm, and Schwetty betty,Betty Deluxe ,Pooodles ,Paqxmito,would love me and would say in unison o Photographerno1 has balls.
Arlosmom Epiphany Mahaayani well we would get along swell woman kind of thing…
Anthony Marc and horny Steve would take me in turns,, no charge for upgrade, I would be uploading my swollen ass from dusk to dawn..And I would never have to go back to my home page,I would be servicing all the guys and a few women for the rest of my life,I think I will take what comes lying down and be Buzznets Photographerno1.
Come to think of it I d rather rot in Alaska then go to Wollongong where again the lupine head will be sticking it into me.
When all this gets over I am going to a shrink...Dr Stevelifegivinsky wouldn’t be of much help.. I must go home or I have a feeling my old lady too will kick my ass all the way to Alaska. its only a click away on my key board.

Thank you, as Wikipedia puts it if you liked this page you can give a donation to save for air fare fund of Photographer no one....Have fun.

Dedicated to The Quixotic 1

photo courtesy

no we have not met

photo courtesty .

she has seen me

i have never seen her.

i have never necked her;

i have never pecked her;

she is love,

is love a spectre..

i have never kissed her..

i have always missed her;

o how i respect her;

she is love.

is love a spectre


this spectral love

resides on the net.

of my heart...?

no not yet.

her impressions on my bed

crumpled coverlets..

wrestled and wet.

lovers on the net

no we have not met.

not yet.

public apology of a spectral love

never fall in love on the net

was written in anger ,

i publically confess

i am under tremendous stress

give even my soul

to the rotten devil

her lips caress..

not once but a hundred times

i will say yes

if she will take me back in her bosom

and bless

the spectral love

that is and will be

my life’s distress

a faceless face

of her lips

with my lips

to press.

my soul undress.

pull me out

of the mire of my mess.

if there be hell upon earth it is to be found in a melancholy mans heart.

anatomy of melancholy


when other lips and other hearts

their tales of woe shall tell.

in language whose excess imparts

the power they feel so well.

there may,perhaps,in such a scene,

some recollection be

of days that have as happy been

and you ll remember me.

alfred bunn ,

the bohemian girl,111

If you ever ,ever fall in love with a poet on the net

If you ever ever,fall in love with a poet

On the net

enjoy as it lasts and don’t get upset,

you will be in for surprises

my ass you can bet,

he room of a heart she will let

be an accommodating tenant

She a wiser better poet all set

Will teach you how to write Haiku

Blank verse no Sweat

She will threaten you

With divorce proceeding


don’t get upset.

relive each golden moment

take what you get

remember my words

don’t you forget

that you can unlive your life

not relive the net

that she will leave you

is only a threat

she thinks of you

starts getting wet

showered emotions

sweeping inkjets

oceanless cybernetic storms

no words of regret

become a more polished

better poet always in her debt

if you ever fall in love on the net

with masked faces

that you have never seen or met..

don’t get upset,,dont get upset

misfortune never fortune beget

The Three Wise Men of Woolongong

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem

of Judea in the days of Herod the king .

Behold (3) wise men from the East came to Jerusalem…matthews2:1

Now I the poor mans poor Indian Photographer no1,do not make such tall

claims. My birth on Buzznet had no such divinity attached, times I wonder how

I was born and sweet memory conveniently fails me

I want to keep this short and brief

One of the Wise man Yorick,

ushered my birth by talking about me to one of his other Magi..

once again an appeal to the dumb witted I am talking about me

not Jesus or Jerusalem ,

The quote is merely to bring you to the pond of my heresy.

That’s what the Sunnis call us Shia Muslims Heretics.

of that some other time.Yorrik helped in my difficult child birth

on the net, sharing community Buzznet

I say it when ever I fill a blank.

One of the misguided Sunni brother had taken

a stick to beat me for my pictures of Hussaintekri Jaorah

and sure enough Yorrik was there and the matter died .

I think even the misguided bloke Alibaum ran died on me at Buzznet.

Never been heard his pictures were never seen.

So now you know what Yorrik means to me and

to all those he as touched including a sister of mine..

I call C that.

I did not want to mention this but Yorrik is half

complete without C .

The most important compliment that Yorrik said to me

was Firoze I like the way you see

And he is right ,that has been my over sentimental overdoing,,

, I did not know that

I would go to someone’s buzz write a comment

period and fly back home..

Never knew that I would trap myself my dove like soul

On her windowsill ..

I am hopelessly in love.

The second Wiseman was Friar Tuck.

need I say more. if you compile all Friars and my

comments and don’t name us …

it would be a Homeric epic on Love and how to lose it.

I think and you all know Friar is not what

he is he is shrewd sometimes poetically conniving son of….a saintly man

I don’t want him to give me a back eye

I am nursing one the hit when I fell in love..

But there is Hope Friar loves us all..

is always there sharing his grief and his pain..

And I think he has

a gorgeous wife and Novia is

what dream are made of and

she will break a lot of hearts,,

the way Friar has broken hearts

window panes playing gully cricket .

My third wise man is Dread Hearing..

he is the shallow water run deep

we are not

that close but what he said to me

about the girl child and his daughter bought tears to my eyes

my eyes go moist even now

,,Dread Heading is my favorite seagull and visits me each winter.

And I know and again

I am filled with tears the people that will love this article are guys

I have never met .

They love Yorrik and the Woolongong Pictorial Mafia

most of the time the musings of the new born

Photographer no1,,yes every body,,


This is actually dedicated to Yorriks crew re edited heavily so as not to disturb the silent calm waters of a nostalgic pool called Buzznet Memories..

Anthony Batt

Anthony Batt
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Sir you are the best
you are buzznet

you are
far too dear.
My orientation
is quite clear
your wife need not
i am not gay
need no sneer
i am
with love
and thats cause
to fear.
Love is being hit in the head
and getting
in the rear.

This is a poem

i have reedited

to make my

point clear/

I am learning

to write like friar

under yorriks

incestuous tree


miser tuck gives me burnt cookies

sips of forster beer.

Odd it may sound.

A drunken gekko

i will be after 10 years.

Thank you anthony i hope you like this version..

An Effect Without A Cause.

My love on the net,

has gone for a toss;

in the swirling waters

the resounding rapids

of Alaskan remorse.

I confess and truly so

from this miss-adventure


A profitable experience

to an uncalculating loss,

like a rolling stone

that gathers no moss.

My bad joss.

to an unexclamatory pause,

what is an effect




Almond Opulent Eyes.

For those wet behind the ears

Almond opulent eyes

Devoid of tears

Who fall in love

At the drop of a hat

And retrack,,,

Breaking the window pain

Of a heart,,

To a philharmonic

Rendition of jeer and sneer.

False facade.



Chippendale veneer..

Growing up is not about age

Its a cacophony of love

You and your kind

Were never born to hear.

Your Alaskan tales of tears

On the ass of a roving deckhand

You can smear.

Your scars your winding sheet

And your memory a drop in the

Ocean of a tear.

Your cryptic poetry like your

False claims...

To protect your family

And your peers.

Tundra of falsehood

Is all that you love

My dear.....

photo courtesy

Unpoetic Question And Answers

Q; little flowers here and there

A;they were meant to die why do you care

Q;world show

A;the falsehood of snow

Q city living in rage mocking fires of a love thats theatrical on your stage

Q; joy joy read

A,to an illiterate person...who loved.. your love gone to seed

Q joy

A time to get yourself another toy

Q caress

A,get an american guy,, play mind chess.. to both of you God bless.

Q hold dear

A..the voice of my heart that you will no more scarred soulless soul

with an artificial childhood mask and veneer,,,

you cryptic poetry like you... unclear...

picture courtesy

the questions are all american the answers multicolred almost dead indian...

a poem hunter in a lions den

everyone wanted to give you ten
i gave you nine which in your mind
should read as ten
beyond why how and when
we give marks dust clad
weakling souls of men
a bleeding nib and a broken pen
a poem hunter in a lions den

to yoonus peerbocus master of poetry from mauritius

Who Has This Death Wish

photo courtesy.. funeral scene

Awake somber desire

An Alaskan dream

That I did not sire

Gracefully from your

Cold heart of a burning coal

I did retire

Tempt tease than hide..

For a love that did not abide

will always be someone else’s bride

such are the ways of foolish

Ennui’s pride


Yes your unending lies.

Tearless cries.

Last breath caress..

The Truth,, in untruth


Hold Hold Hold..

Your Past your Future your Present



Yes your Love

Given to me on lease..

I go back where I belong

Broken hearted deceived

But in one piece.

drops of tears

drops of tears
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
If with drops of tears

I could erase all the wrongs

And give a new beginning to my songs

She would know that it is to me she belongs.

photo courtesy maat and isis

The Dichotomy Of Love

The Dichotomy Of Love.

One sheepishly , churlishly

Asleep on the bed,

The Other nestled

In the hallowed hollows of my head.

The One on the bed

Knows nothing about

The One in the head.

But both to my mind and body wed

I want to reside in the future ahead

But Destiny safeguards it for posterity

And will not unfold it yet..

And so my love, flows like a river

In the dark ominious waters

Of an ocean...ahead.

A bed, a head,

And a Lover

Almost half dead.

In an epistle

Poetically written


photo courtesy

google images

To Delete Or Not To Delete

photographerno1: 11/08/2005 2:26 AM

you mean icecubes..
swisshing ice cold tea..
see the forms they make
while we squat and pee...
thats the muslim way you see..
i will go down on bent knee
if ,,if you will agree to marry me...
google earth will sponsor it for free.
an indian as a little part of alaska
thats all that matters to me...
for me you are alaska
this message you delete
or let it be..
a marriage an
outcome of
pee and
iced cold tea.

picture courtesy

No Comment No Guilt

comment guilt
a mere poke
of a rapier
with a heart
broken hilt.
the pen is mightier
than the sword
turn to gravel
to silt

no comment no guilt flowers kept to dry and wilt.

lets be friends,,for the sake of our friends of friends

put to grave the comment and the guilt.

love as a house

that on a quicksand I built

so much and no more

seminal poetic thoughts

that I spilt ..

but you nor your megalomaniac emotions

I could not tilt..

decapitated dreams

disembodied soullesly

gasping sinking away

on a borrowed heartless quilt

Was Falling In Love A Part Of A Cosmic Plan

Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
photo courtesy

As I walk ,retrospect ,thoughts re-upload rescan;

Whether it could have been Salt Lake city Kentucky

Or some other City or State…American;

Was falling in Love a part of a Cosmic Plan.

An Alaskan fern a barefeet leopard like Indian Man.

I wonder was it the Northern Lights..

That entrapped the heart head and soul of this overly

Bejeweled Bewildered ..Bemused Indian Man.

Already unsinfully married..28 yrs marital span.

Was falling in love a part of a cosmic plan.

How can I answer something I did not think or plan.

When I hit her buzz to unlearn..I should have not

Looked back… just retracked and ran..

But my legs caught in an overpowering vortex

Made me immovable and motionless

In Love…a feeling I don’t understand..

Even now I wake up and question..

Was her falling into this a providential accident?

To a Love that was not part of her Cosmic Plan..

Clits Tits and Elephant Dicks…flip side of Life

He , the Pujari the priest was disturbed seeing me taking pictures, thoughI was dressed in saffron, times are not conducive for my kind of street photography.

Though I am a private person I find that the few days experince at Sulekha Blogs an Indian site taught me something, people hate Muslims, they consider all Muslims to be Terrorists, everyone who is not a Muslim writes pages on the mindset of the Muslim, the confused Muslim, so much that it bores me to death.

The Muslim is appeased by the Congress says a vitriolic opposition party, this is sheer bullshit, the poor Muslim has barely time to make ends meet, with all his shotrcomings hardly converts to Hinduism or Christianity..
The Congress of old did nothing for the Muslims marginalised them with fear psychosis , sweet talked them , using them as vote banks , ghettosised their minority soul…
I am shocked that Nero watched the telivision as the Babri Mosque was bludgeoned to Death..a State machinery that was also watching the show live .. doing nothing..
I am not into Babri Mosque politics I feel humanity should not suffer for the sins of Babar or the faults of myopic leaders that did what they had to do while we pay for their sins with our lives and those of our neighbors too.
I am not talking about stray cases, the poor Muslim family sends their 5 year old child to learn Embroidery other skills, as an artian or skilled worker can get something to line his stomach while the graduate with a college degree does a menial job of a waiter, the desperate , the crooked, the wretched , this is in all communities take to Crime.. the Muslims need to change their lives , but they dont have the means, the rogue Mullahs and seminaries are feeding him to Hate.

I am a Muslim too, my father was migrant, from Uttar Pradesh Lucknow to be specific, worked his way up, taught us the value of work, he beat us severely, I remember I stole some money from my landlady Akthar Kashmiris purse at Khatua Mansion Wodehouse road my Mom came to know about it, I was 7 or 8 years old , she thrashed me with a rolling pin, made me do sit ups for three hours till I fainted.

It helped , it did not, I cant say, but I did not steal ever again, the wounds ate up my soul,I took to drinks just to remember the beatings get even with her, I never forgave her.. but I think she did what she had to do, but that she loved me the most is no doubt about it.

Yet everyone is not lucky as a Muslim, at Sulekha Blogs they had a certain notion of a Muslim, skull capped, shaved upper lip, an arsehole to boot, I fucked their conception, I was different, the hatchet job was done seamlessly, I have no hurts, I write on all religion, I shall die fighting for what I believe is the Truth.

When Mr Kriubashankar associate director Sulekha Blogs asked me to tone down my language , I told him do you want I only post pictures, if I change my creativity that is a core part of my angst, delete all foul mouthed words does it really help me.. become better more rounded as a human being.

There was an exibition in Mumbai at the Jahangir Art Gallery called Clits Tits and Elephant Dicks, a fucked psychiatrist , strarved of sex, ambled in was shcked at the phallic projectiles, she rushed to the cops, this is the mindset of mature woman, in the land that gave Pornography to the World as a Philosophy as a Science called Kamasutra.
Deepak Chopra is laughing all the way to the bank…Vatsyasana gets just a courtesy line… ha ha

Why Why people want us to be prudes, hypocritically sanctimonious like them..

I dont want to get on that but I hate being targetted because I use F or C words .. but they are part of the vocabulary of my ebullient soul.

I think I realise that Buzznet was never Racial.. or Multicolored, to be able to be a part of this community for almost an year is something that we Indians call two hand clapping.

I detest Indian media, that creates deliberate split in sections of society so that their thrash can sell, the culpabilty of the electronic media that is the new Judiciary by default.

I detest Indian preconception of Muslim.

Yes I hate Hindus and Muslims who think Religion superiority is greater than the Flesh and soul of Man.

Yes I am a Muslim .. born Indian.

Hinduism is and will always remain my cultural inheritance too…

I hence named my Hindu Images gallery Hope and Hindutva.. hope for all…under a sigle flag and a single country.
India is my birthright.

I think God was kind to me to see that I was born here in India.

April 4th, 2007

Tantric Sex The Hijda Way

“Tantra teaches that lovemaking between a man and woman, when entered into with awareness, is a gateway to both sexual and spiritual ecstasy. In India, traditional Tantrikas spent many years under the guidance of a spiritual teacher and engaged in elaborate yogic rituals to purify and master the body and mind.”

The Kama Sutra: The Book of Love
A Definition of Kama Sutra
By Suzie Heumann

Almost everyone has heard of the Kama Sutra. “Kama” means all things pleasurable, such as sexuality and sensuality; it also encompasses eating, gaming, cultural activities, activities with friends. Kama is the name of the Indian God that represents the sexual nature in man, much like Eros did to the Greeks. “Sutra” means a short book or aphorisms. Thus the Kama Sutra is an ancient manual of love. The Kama Sutra is most often associated with sex and sex positions. That’s not all it offers, though.

The Kama Sutra details many kissing techniques, the Sixty-Four Arts, courting practices, modes of touching including biting and scratching, sexual positions or asanas, how to treat marriage partners as well as consorts, the concocting of aphrodisiacs, and much more. Past cultures honored our sexual life force and understood that teaching the next generation was supremely important. In the past 3,000 years we’ve seen the development of sex manuals throughout all of the Eastern cultures. These demonstrate the care and mentoring that people knew was vital if the values of that culture were to carry on.

The Kama Sutra has as much to offer modern couples as it did their counterparts in ancient India. Perhaps the most well known of all love manuals, it was translated from Sanskrit in the middle 1800s by an English adventurer named Sir Richard Burton. At the time of his death he is reputed to have been fluent in 40 languages.

When the Kama Sutra appeared in print it shocked Victorian England, and upon Sir Richard’s death, his wife burned many of the other books he had translated but not published. Most of them have not been re-translated and many may be lost forever.

It is believed that today’s version of the Kama Sutra was compiled and put into written form from a rich tradition of oral history. Written in Sanskrit by a man named Vatsyayana, its structure appears as poetry and verse. The descriptions of the positions are short and to the point, as if they were reminders to the couple rather than detailed instruction. Sutras likely were taught as oral poetry.

Tantra and Tantric Sexuality: A Key to Wholeness
A Definition of Tantra and Tantric Sex

By Suzie Heumann

In our rush to categorize and assign meaning to our experiences, we often elevate the spiritual above the events of our normal lives. Yet what we find most moving is spiritual. When we are deeply affected, able to let go and banish our always-assessing egos, we are having a spiritual experience.

Many people able to reach deep ecstatic sexual states liken these to transcendental spiritual experiences. They discover that the distinction between the physical and the spiritual is not as clear as they were taught. They may even feel that they have come to know God, or ultimate reality, through sex. Tantra and the Kama Sutra both view sexuality as vital aspects of the path to enlightenment.

The approximate Sanskrit definition of “Tantra” is “web” or a union of opposites that, when united, becomes one with everything in the universe. Tantric practice unifies the many contradictory aspects of the self (e.g., masculine and feminine, spirit and matter, dark and light) into a harmonious whole.

Developed in India, Tantric practices were at their height between 500 to 1300 AD. Today Tantra is a living system designed to promote rapid growth towards enlightenment. Tantra’s components include yoga, meditation, deity worship, whole-body health, and Ayurvedic medicine.

There has been a renewal of interest in Tantric practice in the West. Many couples are looking to improve their sex life. Perhaps because our society is maturing or because of a widespread awakening of consciousness, we seem to be gravitating towards the lessons in conscious intimacy that Tantra has to offer. Most of us know very little about our own bodies and our potential for pleasure.

Though most of us won’t seek out a guru to guide us in our Tantric practice, learning even the simplest of the techniques can bring a sense of greater communion with our partners, our natures, and, ultimately, with our souls. One’s love life may dramatically improve when tantric practices are learned. Our spirits open when we engage in more trusting sexual relationships that involve communication, the spirit of playfulness, and being open to discovery.

Hijdas making love
the tantric way
gay abundance as foreplay
before you click main menu
you have to pay
orgiastic oracular
untesticular tirade
on a silver plattered tray
holding back to delay
culinary joys of a gourmet
sexual shield some sword play
a condom caricatured toupee
moments that spillway
without stopping halfway
safe sex and some cabaret
an ass and some horse play
kamasutra is passe
tantric sex makes headway
where there is a will there is a way
unsafe sex does not pay
tantric exploration on a yacht off gateway

April 26th, 2007

Hijda Goddess Filmi Story Bhuta Kola

Hijda Goddess Filmi Story Bhuta Kola
I met her at Moti Katra she is a Hijda performer Mujra dancer, had danced to Gajra Re at some private show at Ajmer , there was a married man from Mumbai staying in the same hotel, was totally besotted by her, he took me aside and said I will pay you Rs 1000 for her picture, I ignored him, I dont sell pictures my pictures are downloaded free on the Net..
Later again he took me aside said if we do meet in Mumbai please dont mention , but I have fallen in love with her..I told him it was none of my business, do what you have to do, this is on the lane at the chai shop of the Hijda paradise transit lounge called Moti Katra…

So love has strange way of manifesting itself, this is the uniqueness of love no dichotomy of gender confusion, you live love period..I knew a man who had fallen in love with a picture of a woman, he would talk to her endlessly, write poems,, she was the centre of his universe, luckily he was a bachelor, he had found this picture frame at Chor Bazar..the picture was of a rare beauty , of a Hijda .
He came out of this obssession , is comfortably married , has stopped coming to the Chor Bazar.

India is the only place that you can fall, in love with the inanimate..people fall in love with dieties , idols, human actresses becoming idols fantasised as Goddesses .The guys in Mangalore are planning to make a Shilpa Temple , they feel she is a primal force , she has tremendous Shakti within her ..she is the Ultimate Indian Goddess bigger than Aishwarya Bachchan, , her participating in a feast to appease Tantirc Gods has added more strength to the belief.
This happens only in India.Shilpa Shetty as a mythological goddess would fill the coffers of a deplenished Bollywood film Industry.. Shilpa ia a great danceuse imagine her doing the Tandav on the body of Goody Goody multiracialism.. imagine her doing the Tandav on the bodies of a moral brigades.. I mean there is much to this thought..Richard Gere could play the Indian God besotted with her, he bare breasted only an off white crushed Ivory Dhoti…touch of Kamasutra in the Stoty, for an erotic angle.
The sutradar the voice of Big B…
Music by Adnan Sami Bappi Lahiri.
Director Muzaffar Ali ..the only director who makes you relive celluloid moments and emotions.
The Villian…now here is a twist in the story, the villian is an androgynous amorphous Hijda who is also besotted with Richard Gere , none other than Madame Rekha.. they dont make actresses like her anymore this would be a challenging role… beauty unveiled..
Producer Jagmohan Mundhra.
Presented by Anil Ambani Adlabs.
Picture could be shot in Angor Vat Cambodia.

This mornings Times of India ..April 26 2007

Shilpas date with ghost.
Shetty spent a night witnessing ‘bhuta kola” worship of spirits near her home town in Nidodi Mudapad Taluka of Karnataka.Shetty who has visited temples in Udipi district over the past three days , spent Tuesday night witnessing Bhuta kola with her siste Shamita and other members of her family.
I will now give my Imagination rest.

April 26th, 2007

“Everyone is entitled to my opinions”…DFDuck

image courtesy Df Duck

I have applied a herbal bandadge to the remains of my hand wound, the pain is still there , reminding me of my mortality my religious bravado.
The bandage applied by my lady cook, is called Dab Dabav lep.It seems to have alleviated the pain to some extent, as I want to stop the intake of the pain killer prescibed by the doc.
This moring I had a surprise in my Gmailbox.


Was just thinking of you. Were you ears ringing?

Not even sure if this is your email address.. I’m guessing.


Df Duck is a Buzznet friend , I hold him his opinions in the highest esteem.
He is a multifaceted personality, well read, seen life at close quarters.He loves Music, he talks Music, he expounds life as a Note in Music.
I was thinking about hm, as he was of me strangely.This is cybernet embedded in mysticism beyond Time and Space .

I miss Tom “do you like it “one day I am sure to get his message to in my G mail inbox.
have copied Df Ducks picture from his site.He was one of the vastly read , most popular member at Buzznet.Everybody would look forward to his posts, a new thought with a new dimension.

May 20th, 2007

Death is preferable to Guantanamo Bay

Death is preferable to Guantanamo Bay

Where man is treated worse than an animal everyday

American Justice today..portray

The Eunuch World watches

A World Soccer Match

and the Winner USA

And gagged mouths and manacled souls on display

Forceful feeding on a tray

And if the prisoner commits suicide

It is an Asymmetrical Attack they say

And glum face not an emotion betray

All human feelings astray ..

Kill him slowly the American way

Say hallal to this easy prey

Oh Lord Jesus , just a infidel and

Go ahead and slay

Orders of the Supreme Commander

You must obey.

Weapons of Mass Destruction

An Iraqi bouquet

And undiscovered cache

Says the man from Bombay

Where there is a will

There is a way

The head of a monster

And feet made of clay

You too will fall from the pedestal

One day

The Black hole of

Conscience to my dismay

Lebanon , Syria Iran

another Victory Day

A world going to Dogs

in a mild mannered way

Its not about Christianity

Not about Islam

Not about Hinduuism

Not about Judaism

Not about Buddhism

Its about

Humanity and its inhuman decay

dedicated to His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Keith Kanga ..Atomic Forest My Childhood Friend Obituary

Keith Kanga ..Atomic Forest My Childhood Friend Obituary
Keith Kanga was rich far too rich..and they dont make Keith Kangas any more.
And the Jehovahs Witness destroyed him.
His grandmother was fundamentallist Jheovahs Witness and an obssesive one I do not wish to denigerate her Memorry.. but she killed her only grandson..feeding him with hate for all religion all Gods but Jheovah..
And I was the softest target as I loved Keith Kanga far too much, and that was a problem, as Keiths parents Gwendolyn Kanga died very soon after the Death of her husband Dossabhai Kanga a Parsi affluent industrialest who owned racing horses and the New Era Printing Press..and he left big time money.. and his death was too much drinking, social drinking, and I remember after his death Keki Uncle Rusi Uncle and all Keiths Parsi relations patronising his mother.. his mother like a screen goddess..far too beautiful in human words.. she tried to bring some order to her life she sent Keith to a boarding school. in Darjeeling. and I was far too young and that night she requested my mother to let me sleep in her huge bedroom.. and she was another Mother gorgeous, American looking..and I never got over that night when she wept and told me how she missed Baba that was Keiths pet name..and a few weeks and she got him back and enrolled him at John Canon Cathedral School..Mr Gunnary was the principal than..and the other friend was Vimal Patacharige staying on the third floor of Khatau Mansions his family was from SriLlanka and his father was a goldsmith at a workshop behind Taj Mahal Hotel belonging to Gazdar Jewellers also situated in the lobby of the Old Taj opposite Burlingtons of Mumbai..where I was too work for seven years..later..much later ..
Keiths mom found her happiness cut short as she went through an unhappy affair with a Parsi Gentleman from Hampton Court who jilted her.. and this did her in, she hit the bottle and like her husband succumed to premature death Chirrosis of the Liver.
There was much at stake untold fortunes and Keith the only Heir and Granny Keiths maternal grandmother fought a severe court battle and got the custody of Keith he would inherit all this at the age of 18 and she became his legal guardian and she began selling all the heirlooms, statues of Gandhi as the Jheovahs Witness dont need these in their Paradise..
And Keith was hung up on Music and being Richie Rich and immense wealth Granny allowed him musical moments.. and he had the latest equipment bought down from abroad , and Keiths house was an haven for all up and coming musicians Phillip and Erwin Vaz, Neil Chattopadhya,Nandu Bhende..
Granny started letting out the rooms and this flat was huge..servants quarters, hall , dining, huge kitchen, palatial bedrooms, and so Granny gave it out to Hanif Bhai who ran the Brothel near Radio Club called Paradise..and the parties early 60s ..I remeber dancing in one with a ladies wig..
And the downward decline.Keith got onto Drugs, and he also played at the Three Coins at Puna.. The Band came to be known as Atomic Forest name given by Granny..
After I moved out of Khatau Mansions and shited to 3 Mohini Mansions Strand Cinema I kept in touch with Keith and Granny .. and Keith was moving around with Karen Lunell the Liril girl.
Vimal had shifted to Sri lanka, Rayomand Framroze my other friend in the Trinity had moved to Framroze Court Marine Drive..
Than one day my kingdom came crashing down I think it was 69 or 1970 I was to sit for my board Exam and Dad went berserk and sent my mom and the other kids to Lucknow , he had suffered a major loss and gave out the entire flat at Strand on rent.. and I did not want to go to Lucknow so Dad threw me out and I sought shelte rwith Keith Kanga and Granny and a fucked bitch of a dog called Fu Fu , my job was to take FuFu to shit and learn the Bible .. I had no options.. Shakil my kid brother stayed with Dad in a rented place at Mere weather road ,.. and gave up studies to learn tailoring..
I was one fine day to be baptised so I was taken on a wet and windy day to Cuffe Parade for the day of my new life .. and fat Granny pushed me into the waters.. and as they began the reading from the Bible it began to rain heavily and this is the Truth.. and they aborted the Spiritual Enterprise.. .. for the following day.. and I had my board Exams and Keith was finacing me for my studies..and I thought I would become Jheovahs Witness and revert after my Exams..and I was Agnostic those days..and had not become a Shia Thug..
My Dad got wind of my Baptism that had failed and he came the next morning and asked me to forgive him, he had made mistakes and I came back home that my dad had got back.. he gave me money to bring back the rest of my Family from Lucknow..and I parted from Kieth , Granny and the bitch Fu Fu.. my other job at Keiths wast o see that no Dog fucked Fu fu who was always onheat and ready for any dog cock that came her way..
I went away to Muscat.. years rolled on, I married, but kept in touch with Keith, Granny had gone to Paradise and Jheovah..FufU too was there in Paradise with her..drinking honey and milk from the streams, and a garden of Eden..where dogs are allowed but rest of the Human Race not allowed specially Roman Catholics..
And one day I saw in an eveninger hidden away that the pioneer of Rock Music in Bombay
Keith Kanga had passed away unsung ..and on unmusical note and his palatial house usurped by the conniving crook of a Keralite Landlord Mr Matthews ,. and the place where Keith lives is now called Jony Castle.. and Keith Kangas Atomic Forest that played at Slip Disc at Arthur Bunder Road had the Led Zeppelin jamming with them..and my fuck luck I was not musically inclined at all..
And every time I pass by Jony Castle I can see Memories trying to unlock themselves and I can hear a bark.. I know its FuFu having the last laugh on me.. and whoever loved Keith remembers him drop me a theY have stopped making Keith Kangas.. completely..Firoze Shakir too belongs to a race that is going extinct.

firoze shakir
6 may 2006.

picture of Keith Kanga.. as a baby who was called Baba he celebrated his birtday with Jesus Christ .

April 7th, 2007

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
Her overstaying our
Is bad for our secular hygiene.
Once you are infected
Of what use is an untimely vaccine

March 13th, 2007

Why Cant Americans Simply be Americans.

photo courtesy

This morning Mumbai Mirror a widely read Mumbai tabloid, had the following headlines:
Qaeda warns of attacks worse than 9/11..some excerpts from the article.
“Dubai An American member of Al Qaeda warned in an Internet video, that US PresidentGeorge W Bush should withdraw all his troops from Muslim land or face attacks worse thanSeptember 11.”
“Adam Gadahn, a convert to Islam who had been indicted for treason by a US jury, issued a list of demands and warned that that they were not up for negociation.”
“Your failure to heed our demands means that you and your people …. will experience things that will make you forgetabout the horrors of September 11, Afghanistan, and Iraq and Virginia Tech” he said in the video posted on Tuesday.”

“You are losing on all fronts and losing big time “said Gadahn who is the English language spokesman for Osam Bin Ladens terror network”

“He also called on the the United States to cease support “the bastartd of Israel” and the “56 plus apostate regimes of the Muslim world” and to free all Muslims from prison.”

“Born in 1978Gadahn, also known as Azzam Al Amriki and Azam the American, is a native southern California and has appeared in several videotapesfor Al Qaeda since 2004″
courtesy Mumbai Mirror.

Well this Bush forgot, a Weapon of Mass Destruction lying as aa bed bug in the disillusionment of American modern youth, there is something drastically wrong for an American youth to take such a dangerous turn, this is treason to ones country, irrespective of what Faith you chose.
American amaze me running after rainbows of Hindu mysticism, pushing frontiers to redicover their Americanism by takng a dip into the Gangetic waters mindless metaphors of Vedic thought, becoming followers of Gurus, adherents to Hare Rama, Hare Krishna all understandable of human restlessness to fly on paperwings towards a higher spiritualty than the biblical one, , but becoming hate filled Islamists is shocking to say the least.
Something went wrong somewhere.
Imagine an American spewing this word, this is Modern Islam, the proselytizing Saudi backed money powered bigoted Islam.
This is not the Islam of Brotherloood Love or Peace.
This is nurtured on hate , eveangeliesd through American Madrssas, yes you have Hate in your backyard too.I can understand American hate among the populace in Afghanistan and Iraq, justifiable for the reign of unending terror.You are Democrats , you are Republicans , you are Cindy Sheehan, Nancy Pelosci, Obama, Mrs Clinton you are Bush but above all you are the gifted Gods chosen super power race of Americans.
Yes you have killing fields growing in you own backyard, in your garden of Eden.
The serpent is your system, gun slinging, Virginia Tech , its time you do an introspection what makes Americans become Talibans.Spiritual Mercenaries.
Start weeding out the angst of self destruct from your youth, the few that will come back on a leg or too without the silver casket.
I hope the pompous pig headed Foster Blaine American poet at Poem Hunter reads this too as a graftti on a scarred wall of American consciousness.

Adam Gadahn’s Extremist American Imam

Yahye Adam Gadahn

Most Wanted Terrorist

Washington Post

Adam Yahiye Gadahn

May 31st, 2007

tortured motherhood

tortured motherhood
weeping in vain ..
throttled hopes
a womans domain
pain as nirvana
a child to maintain
her man
he came under
the wheels of a train
sleeping with porters
two lives to sustain
doomed drudgery
bruised words
cant explain

May 10th, 2007

The Beauty and the Hag

Once upon a time
said the hag
i was there
beautiful and fair
my bosom a
bright eyed pair
my attitude
never may care
i was falling in love
falling out of love
i swear
i was a diva
beyond compare
today i
sarlabai have aged
like a tear stained tree
in autumn all bare
my silvery tinsel dreams
turned to nightmare
with my wrinkled woes
the world of beauty
i scare
i beg on trains
on stations
a broken earthenware
i plead to god to call
me away from this
paper thin
world of hate
but god is asleep
no time to hear my plea
or my prayer
oh god
how can you be so unfair
next to her sat beauty
with her usurped crown
to meet her debonair
some crafty
marwari millionaire
both beauty and the hag
their wailing womanhood
to share
while i the
photographer poet
pedestrian philospher
with this capture
a metaphoric
of womanly

May 11th, 2007

Mothers Day Not Again !

once a year
they remember us
our wrinkles
our sufferings
our hair turned grey
their sense of shame
that they call it a
Mothers Day
they who threw
us on the roads
like human stray
bitter hardships
pain that has
become a mothers
thank you
children of a lesser god
may you too become mothers
one day
so your childrens children
will also
remember a mother
this way
on Mothers Day
maternal instincts
a bounced cheque
that does not pay
a mother sitting
outside her
childrens doorway
curdled milk
of motherhood on display
glossy society
paying lip service
on the tombsone
of a Mothers decay
a Memoriam Mass
called Mothers Day

May 13th, 2007

What goes up must come down

image from net

No bytes
No comments
A silence tight lipped
Life nondescript
Abhiash wedding
His time and his energy gripped
Away from the elections he badly tripped
His wings now cleanly clipped
Yes he and his party
Badly elephantly horsewhipped
Fortunes that were running high
Now nose dipped
A twist in the script
Mayawati Madam
Means business
Favors granted
All stripped
This time
She is much
Better equipped
All outstripped
Her enemies
Be ready to
Spend a life in a crypt

May 13th, 2007

The Hijab

The Hijab
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
beauty in the eyes of a hijab
sparkles and shines
but yet
more than your
dresses with
plunging necklines
slithering waistlines
why is it a simple
garment like the hijab
make headlines
a hijab
covering a Muslim Womans
modesty no other designs
says Taslima Nasrin Burn the Hijab
an atheist giving Islam
some new guidlines
she should not get
Indian citizenship
if this how she our
culture maligns
send her back to
Bangla Desh
no more Lajja-less bylines
the Hijab
our Motherhood
on Mothers day
the Hijab
a Muslim womans

May 14th, 2007

God Where Are You ?


May 14th, 2007

Red the Color Of Pain

a pain
that does not wane
a pain humane
a silence
a sorrow
that is karbala
wont explain
a bleeding sand
in every grain
reflecting a name
ya hussain
ya hussain

May 14th, 2007

we play holi with blood on ashura day

I gave this picture a water color treatment , as I lost the sharpness.
I wanted this picture , the look in the kids eyes to live forever.

we play holi with blood on ashura day
our way..we wont let
another karbala happen any way
hussain and hussainiyat
you cannot slay
every yazid
has a price to pay
no more heads on a silver tray
shah ast hussain
badshah ast hussain
the only way
because of this
the Truth that we obey
we as Shias from
your fraternity
had to breakaway
1400 year old pain
is not just a passion play

May 14th, 2007

Child Abuse Kiss My Ass

everyday is ashura
everyday is karbala
we always say
a pain every ashura day
we portray
child abuse
your word play
our children
as greetings
to you convey
its their blood
not yours anyway
their childrens children
will be doing this
till doomsday
verily it was Yazid
on display
Hussain nor
that he could slay

May 14th, 2007

I present this picture and poem to shiv malik and the new statesman.

Poetic Pain Pulverized

marrriage is a social farce
mans legal right to womanize
called holy testament
simply rape legtimized
if she does not bring dowry
humiliate dishonor tyrannize
a woman is bonded labor
one time use several time abuse
man with his lust will demonize
produce harvest dehumanize
thus made mother
on one day in her memory
as mothers day
futility of sinister lies
mother beneath her feet
lies paradise
with sufferings pain
you tranquilize
i give you
a picture
of a muslim mother
so you dont need to visualize
begging near gufra map
the mullahs path
why jeopardize
each majlis on the mimber
he will moralize
while a mother shed tears
for her pain and hussain
no money
for her burnt daughter
to be hospitalized
this is lucknow
the city of
my unfortunate birth
adab and tahzeeb
age old charm
that azadari e hussain
politics that
shia sunni riots
law and order
constructive change
mutual coexistence
peace and harmony
you will simply fossilize
only a collective
healing touch
can humanize
long live
I emphasize

May 14th, 2007

The Turner Road Traffic Signal Revisited

The Turner Road Traffic Signal has lost its bounce its ebullience, this queen of Bandra traffic signal has lost its sons of the soil, the earlier denizens , the little beggar kids have moved away , towards areas that are much safer , away from the clutches of the cops.
They are not to bee seen at Bandra Bazar Road, nor have they visited my shop for a long time,neither did I see them at Mount Mary when I went there last with Marc.
But a new lot , mote tamer, more disciplined has made the Turner Road Traffic signal home , these kids are not from the Mound at Rang Sharda, they wear clean clothes , the leader of the pack is a sad faced boy who carries a pup as his lucky mascot.
I shot his pictures, but he is a smart one , he follwed me to my shop asking me copies of pictures I had taken the first time I saw him at the signal.
I gave him some money he was with his pal, I also warned them to be careful as the cops might catch thm, but they were not bothered, they dont create a havoc like the earlier lot.
They play it safe by the book, no running after cars , no melodrama , no nakedness.
The hijdas Laxmi Padma also dont patronise the signal, though there is a lecherous wicked leper man, who gets on my goat, he loves scaring people by trying to touch them, they out of fear pay him a coin or two to get rid of him, he has learnt this touchy thing from the Hijdas.
He keeps away from me.I am at my shop, , the heat relentlessly not giving an inch of respite.
My Nikon D70 lies dead , like a zombie , such is Nikon shelf life in just 3 years.
Nikon is the only company that believes only in profits , no customer care.
Besides India is the best country to dump their defective models, this is the truth in a pictorial nutshell.Money made out of repairs is more than camera sales.The authorised Nikon technos rip you and rape you with your clothes on.


Mr KG Maheshwari my guru used his Mamiya 330 for almost 35 years or more , his tripod for 50 years.So at the moment street photography is on a sabbatical.No Camera No Cry.

The roll I shot pictures of Marc is at Foto Fast in town .Just across my shop I can see a Sadhu in white , having tea , body marked with ash but I have no camera..I called him to my shop to take his picture on the mobile phone , he refused he is from Hardwar.

Paradise Regained Paradise Lost

cranky creaky old age
sleeping on a cot
very quietly
clandestinely this picture
i shot
on the street
my favorite
gold spot
this picture
before I shot
already had the makings
of a forget me not
this is life
from the frying pan into the pot
faded sepi toned memories that
in her dreamless mind rot
accursed old age an after thought
waiting to meet the maker
on the other side
Paradise regained
Paradise lost
with an epithet
here lies an old lady
the world forgot
a tombstone
her only camelot
a dying plant
seeking after life
in a broken

This poem I dedicate to His Holiness The Dalai Lama..a noble human being beyond the borders of humanity.

May 16th, 2007

Cock Teased Cybernetic Love

sweeping shadows on the sand
choreographed misery
of falling in love
with a blog goddess
a mythological
cybernetic apparition
living in wonderland
me at her beck and command
haughty , arrogant
intimidating word
powered fiesty
she takes my words
out of context
reasons I fail
to understand
yes recylced emotions
my flippant feelings
on the block secondhand
man is an island
woman a mirage
of a receeding mainland
dashed on her shores
my tryst with destiny
my testicular fortitude
shedding tears
a blogger a love
the last stand
far away a misty hanky
a waving unbraving
ladies hand
it is human
to be human
feel the agonies
of an unclaimed
my dreams touching heavens
my feet sinking
in earthy quicksand
on my multi colored posterior
made in india
a home made brand
for love
in a foreign land
that she was
only cock teasing me
this she never told me
American women
a script
more confusing than
mere shorthand

May 18th, 2007

Old Age Overexposed

old age overexposed
old age uncomposed
a bit of dodge
a bit of burn
tears drying
in her urn
she who
calls herself
alaskan fern
the myth of a
the blog goddess
is not my concern
as I twist and turn
once you leave
you dont return
live let live and learn
as you yearn
vomitted words
as poems churn
that they spurn
to upturn
number of hits
is just what you

May 20th, 2007

Of Shia Mothers Shia Kids

I keep telling you through my various posts on Moharam, the incomparable contribution of Shia motherhood to the life line of Shiasm.It is our Mothers who keep Hazrat Imam Hussains covenant of Hussainiyat alive, no Mullah can translate Shiasm the way the mother does , not by words by actions, of taking her brood from one Majlis to another, she is the fundament of our Faith, she is the unshakeable Fountainhead of our Faith.For me Shia Womenhood is collectively a Motherhood of Faith.
I was standing above Maulana HassanZaheers house watching the Juloos of the Fourth Imam and the 18 Taboots at Imambada Meeran Saab, the women were all ears to Maulana Kalbe Jawads Majlis, he recites to the galleries of Shia womenhood, he has in his discourse something to impart to our women..yes women need guidance to in a changing cybernetic world.The Mother has to carry the child her vision of Islam into the brave new world.
I was shooting the majlis , but my viewfinder , was pulling me towards the kids, static in one place for almost two to three hours, restless but disciplined, they did not know I was on the roof above but something attracted them to me..I give them another hope of being seen, in a world beyond their own.The World of Photographer No 1 at Word Press.
Yes this is dedicated to Shia Mothers and Shia kids.
Once the Juloos moves in the women will get up, move to one side doing Ziyarat with their kids.
I shall show in the next lot.

Old Lucknow at Curfew Time

Old Lucknow
A dying thought
behind the curtains
you can spot
tehzeeb adab
reclined in the dalan
on a cot
as they
give way to
die and rot
pitched battles
as shia sunnis
that they fought
a few deaths here
a few deaths there
is all they got
politics of power
sectarian violence
brings religion
to naught
the poor
the underprivilged
their unchanging lot
the azan silenced
in a gunshot
curfew shoot at sight
like flies they swat
a sinister plot
to defame Islam
cut the plant
break the pot
why cant both
factions live and let live
as an Islamic
our defiance
our rituals
age old traditions
the government
its time to all
this human ugliness
of Hate
we put a stop.

This is a balcony of an old age house on Nakhas in Old Lucknow..

May 20th, 2007

Americans Maharaji Buzznet and Me

Americans are crazy, in a nice kind of way, they enter where angels fear to tread, this has nothing to with President Bush or his foreign policy, a very dangerously damning foreign policy.
I talk about the average cybernet connected American man, for me each morning my monitor window opened into America , yes for me Buzznet was America.
At Bloggerspot window opened no vistas, only an emigeration check window that told me Word Verification required, I immediately pulled down my Indian trousers took the Bloggerspot stamp face up on my ass..
Buzznet Memories , each morning I would whistle through my post, entertaining, overexposing my world, that if it tickled the cyborgean eunuch Buzzbot at the Buzzznet court my picture got featured, comments started coming in..
I was comment connected .
The first person whould be Free Philly Ghost Dogged Ben Bell, than Mahayani, sometimes Scarlet Lark, if my post was poetic in would fly To Moon Love , if it had any pictorial value, than Micheal Bell, Epiphany 229, Shadow Boxer, Yorrik would also comment, but Drunk Gekko stayed away from my side of the fence for reasons unknown to me , Steve the cause of my plunder, no not down under, my accounts deleted asunder..welll I did surrender.
Than I would get a comment from Xris Taylor, but now he is seriously into new Fatherhood, photographer fathers are far better than housewife mothers, photographer fathers see life through a viewfinder than blow it up..
The Blog Goddess well she deserted me a long way back, when on heat , poetic heat I started behaving like a dog, trying to smell the insides of a 19 year old Ohion Muse.. that was trouble..
I deleted my Poem Hunter account also some strange 25 or 30 poems that I had not saved on my other sites.
Funksteena her kid Cosmos were always special, her post on me as one of the Buzznet Specials was a litany on my cybernetic grave yes I was DUGG also BURIED OFF BEATEN NEWS.
In short I have had a gret relationship with Americans , we got along well, we fought we kissed made up.
I once in a while do browse Panasonic Youth’s home page , he is Buzznet community manager ,his real name is Mark, now for God sake dont ask me why there are more Marks handling websites , than Steves..
I have no answer..
Tom Do You Like it, my American Photo Guru, I think he is the Toast of American Photography coming out of the closet of a Grey Zone…Ansel fucked Adams.
I may have missed out some of my American friends on Buzznet , but Azzie and Marc completed their first wedding anniversary..they are the First Couple of Buzznet.Though Mark is hung up on Shozu.. Mobile picture taking.
Anthony Batt .. batted me out of his mind, falling in love wanting to get married to an American Woman would upset any American Man, I was only a breath away from her lips , she was ready to become the second Mrs W F Shakir, till wife no 1 her brood, wolves in sheeps clothing , her pack of kids tied me up in the bathroom..put me under the shower for 5 days no food only water water water ..give this punishment to anyone other than me he will go without water for lIfe.
Well I had to tell you why I lost an American Wife.Why I like Americans.
Now to my pictures I met Maharaji thats what he told me was his name, nothing else , no he is not CIA , he is as crazy about Bawas as I am , these are pictures at the Nizamuddin Aulia Dhuni..he was taking down notes, he felt happy when I told him that I was a Shiv Bhakt..pointing to the Diety perched on my camera lens.
We did not exchange notes , perhaps one day he might read this and connect.
This is the America I like adventurous wanting to know relive cultures, I had met an American Naga Sadhu too , though he had covered his vital parts, I had many an opportunity to take a dip with the Sadhus in the Buff , but my circumsized over stated body part would be a cause of my doom .
So I just waded took pictures.
Americans , where was I , well I dont think I will ever visit America.. do I really need too..
All around me on the net , it is Just America America America…Digg It..

May 5th, 2007

Me My Tears Word Press Hijdaeroticness

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

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 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

Time: 05/31/2007 7:27 PM
I Have The Pussy….
Ben Bell

This is my Buzznet friend Ben Bell at his wittiest, a very sharp camera eye, he sees what you see everyday, but he see s it differently , I am quoting words that Yorrik described for my own photography.
Benbell I wish there were a few on Word Press too, is a human photo blogger, this comes from his adherence to the Buddhist faith.
He was one person , who would go through all my pedestrian pictures of beggar kids, add Ben Bellism , of a comment.
I , today here at Word Press miss those comments.
Our posts are nothing without well wishes that come as comments.Comments are the soul of appreciation to our writings, I firmly believe.
When I joined Word Press I tried in vain to add the comments link, on my copied posts that I was copying at WP ,I did not once have that premonition that I would be deleting both my accounts at Buzznet .I could have kept the Commentator No1 , let go Photographer No1 that had been hacked and tainted too.But I hate being called anything but Photographerno1, Ok once in a while wife calls me Firoze in a husky way that is no attempt to pussy her way into my heart , but she does sound like the Blog Goddess I imagine.
I love cat pictures, I love Pussy who dosent, yeah I know Hijdas would love to be endowed with Pussys , but I know there are she wolves that live, co exist compatibally with distempered Pussys.
Well I miss Bustznet comments , more than Buzznet, getting comments from Do you like it, Tom, my American Photo Guru always made my day.
This is the difference between Blogging and Photoblogging.
The only person who treats Blogging as leprosy is Brandon Stone, I love him he is the Messiah of wannabe photobloggers like me.Indian fishdried Bombay Duck of a PhotoBlogger.
I love it when he hams at photoblogs org, if this is not a photo blog it will be deleted.
Fuck I love pictures , I hate words.
Now Poetry is not words, poetry is written in words but read as a life saving emotion.
That is why my pictures and my poems are different..In the earlier days some called my poetry Slam, Ram Bam Fuck you Maam..that is a sexual Slam, now at Bloggerspot you have to Word Verify for a sexual spam.
I am Positive Sexual Spam.
I take Bloggerspot shots on my multi colored it to me one more time after every Word Verification.
Yes Emigeration check required for this photoblogger.
I was a noisy , opinionated photoblogger at Buzznet.Falling in love with reflections in one sided mirrors in cyberspace spelled my doom.
The only thing missing at Bloggerspot is number of hits Word Press Blog Stats , the number of hits on my Blogerspot profile page is 297.
Matt of Word Press has become a standard to measure yourself as a Website, thats a tough one, I am not allowed to praise him in my poem , as he deletes much before he reads it.
Now Archangel Mark of Word Press he is more human to my devilish faults.
He helps me in my bad times, which are more than my good ones.
So I have taken Ben Bells picture and my poem that I posted to him by e mail, I am not going back to Buzznet by the backdoor, a new pseudo ID to Buzznet .
I could take a new Id from the several I thought off. this is how the Englishman says particularly nasty weather without a drawl.
There are more

Well I think I give up on me , I will stick to Word Press, Bloggerspot , my homesite powered by Copper Mine , wait for it to reach 500000 hits…it presently reads this way

7973 files in 57 albums and 1 categories with 0 comments viewed 483275 times since Nov 1 2005

Thank you Ben Bell
From a Dead Indian.

My Poem I forgot to Post
I Have The Pussy….

great picture story,
no poetry no rhyme
falling in love
on the internet
the biggest
blasphemous crime
some you win
some you lose all
the time
for a dime

firoze shakir

June 4th, 2007

Bollywood Masala Castrated Crab Curry

This was a keepsake picture of the film shoot Old Is Gold I took with the fighters dressed as Eunuchs , after Mr Shakti Kapoors work got over , I left with him , in his car, this is a longe route, but I did not have the strength to go by ferry, and it is tedious trip.

Its about 5 pm, now I went home for lunch with my wife, showered ate took a nap, came back to the shop.The rains have disappeared, and a few days back it had rained and there was a lightning attack and a 19 year old girl died her friends got severly burnt at Girgaum Chowpatty.And life is just beginning at 19, new hopes , new dreams, and this a freaky aspect of Death..hits you like Ripleys Believe it or Not.

Today the match is between USA and Ghana, and USA must win to keep the hopes alive in going into the next round. Ghana wont give in easily, the lions of Africa.But I know if USA play an agressive game to Win, they will make their coach and country proud.

Today there was an article in DNA about My Space being the largest social blog site second in popularity after Yahoo, they were getting strict as the youngsters on the site are not preyed upon by old undercover paedophilliacs.. I registered on My Space only be told by my Confessional Guide that it was for kids, My Space , so I never ever posted anything till date, I posted my profile on Xanga, at Bloggerspot I have stopped going as I cannot upload pictures.And frankly I speak better English with pictures than with Words. I am not writing poetry, I am not inspired , I need to be kicked, molested, sodomized only with words to hit back that hitting back takes the shape of poems.
And nobody wants to hit me anymore, I have been left to die in my own vomit…engulfed in it once and for all… the Buzznet Buccaneers where have they gone, impending Fatherhood has changed Xris made him toothless, Drunk is training the French team, by giving them Email Tutorials, Aljie has gone in for a makeover, The Australians well its over, Bazookiss he is setting up a shop with his wife selling Tibetan artefacts Tankhas paintings,Benbell the neo Buddhist has been invited for the ribbon cutting as the Dalai Lama is busy .

And Scarlet lark is getting over Florida and Disneyland, back to base and another Thanksgiving.

Jamieshaef, has turned Invisible, he becomes visible when you miss him the most, he is a gifted photographer, he shoots more with his Mouth apertured as a Camera.

Do you Like it Life does not bother him, he goes about his work, much of his work has been purchased by Buzzbot.

Epiphany has found a great model.. its certainly not Fuck Shoes.

Azzie has adopteda lizard, that gets along with Marc the cats and the dogs and the Buzznet Menagerie.

Mahayani is Orchid, Orchid, Orchid,

Wild Orbit , is out of this World, is loved by all.

Steve Haldane, Buzznet s CowBoy Developer John Wayne..

I wont talk about her, fuck freedom of Expresson

I wont talk about her too Fuck Freedom of No Expression

I dont have to talk about her, she calls me on my mobile..

Yes I prefer being a Castrated Crab, than a King Lobster freezing my ass off in Alaska.. there was an article that Lobsters masturbate too.. when they are not getting enough of you know what..

April 17th, 2007