Sunday, August 12, 2007
I shot this from Framroze Court at Marine Drive where Sarosh Framroze elder brother of my childhood friend Rayomand Framroze played host.
In this building stays the Father of Indian Press Journalism Mr Rusi Karanjia of Blitz..
Incidentally my dad used to style his clothes and I did his work too for a few years..
a dapper impeccable personality much larger than normal life..
A little sunny faced grandson on your knee
Will you ever ever remember me..
Shia thug home boy that you made me
A silenced door and a rusty key.
10 years passed and I will flee
Strark naked, with insects
And bugs for company
Will you ever ever remember me
Me Shia Sadhu underneath a Bodhi tree.
10 years passed and you will flee
Xris , I Pot , running carefree
Shooting pictures of birds and bees
Will you ever ever remember me
A Castle love all by the Sea
10 years passed and you will flee
from buzznet to flickrs
with your pride and vanity
me awaiting your comments
as charity ...
I don’t understand why
Women get upset with Man
Or is it a part of a cosmic plan..
Or is from the Garden of Eden
When the world began.
The serpent besotted with eve
As she took a suntan
Tempted her with an apple
To get even with a little
Serpent that hung
Between the legs of man
And she ate the apple and so did man
She got pregnant
And her tits milk can.
And man simple minded
And man color blinded
From the fire into the frying pan.
I don’t understand why
Women get upset with man
Manacled to silence
The Head of a Clan.
Fried and Plucked
No code of conduct
Just good times deduct
The rest of a life span,
A bubble in the life of man
He came he saw he ran
Sits on the Crucifix
of a statue of Jesus Christ
All a Glow
And sees Humanity
at the Lords feet
on the ground below.
I am Resurrection and Life
He says, the Dying
Don’t even know.
Seminal Saliva Menstrual flow
They will leave behind and go
The cemetery and on their killing hearts
shrubs, cacti, crying roses will grow
these too at the mercy of a tsunami
cloud burst, katerina and natures treacherous tidal blow
picture of Jesus Christs Statue and cemetery St Peters Church Bandra
An unflinching, unfeigned, unimpeachable, unruffled, upstart unafraid in India.
My grave a Banyan tree a silent, sepulchral safe guarded, safe havened sleep in India
My lyrical love, lonesomliness, languishing, lovelorn in India.
Sometimes you crave for her, are besotted so to speak, silence like the expectation of a bullet in your heart at a firing squad, you are saved by the lady marksman who has fallen in love with you. And Fate loves playing Games. Does this happen to you.
Sometimes you know all this online loves is sheer childishness, even falling in Love with a mature Woman, Fate loves playing Games, you get an unexpected Message from another Woman, who lies buried deep in your sub consciousness and she wakes you up, to another online reality and Hope. Does this happen to you.
Sometimes you decide to get away from this crazy blogging, wordy slogging, frenetic message blocking, go far away , no internet wires , no catapulted comments no castles in the air into the laps of forgetfulness, something touches you , its Fate mocking your sinewy soul, dragging you by your collar into the very wilderness of her web page..
Does this happen to you.
No it’s not happened to me as yet.
And no disclaimers this time.
Head strong Hedonism
Pearly Peepholed Prism
Word played Witticism,
dedicated to a Mother and her Son
where with all
whet, whetted, whetting
man and machine
milestone of a milleu
This is the nature of a Man, embodiment of everything but Superman.
I had a day dream, I had fallen in love to a sublime form, I wrote a few words, uttered in utter shyness, withheld, and it sounded like a poem.
And she voicelessly whispered.
She said Photographeno1
Do you know I have a son!
I wrote a few lines on her imagined heart a few seconds back, I write them here second hand. with changes ...
The first time
I saw your thumbnail
I was dumbfounded
you were undefiled
in my mind
I was a wee bit color blind
a hard blow
of nosegay nostalgia
my bad luck
like love lines on my palm
traced unevenly on my colored behind.
yes life has been unkind
your search is never over
till a disembodied form
like a dove
on the window sill
of your mind .
through pebbled prosaic words
scattered at your feet
a new poem unwinds.
this poem is imaginary and does not reflect my feelings to any one living or dead
At Guantanamo bay
A split open wide
Three Muslim detainees
They the powers to be
Have nothing to hide
It’s an asymmetrical attack
We won’t take them back
And non violence
Also an asymmetrical attack
Which is if you don’t open a front
They fuck you from the back.
Also an asymmetrical attack.
Bravery a show of cowardice
On a countries flag .
Weapons of ass destruction
Raping little Iraqi girls
Killing the innocent
The American Marines
Their Countries Truth hijack
It high time you called them back
Killing blacks raping nigger girls
Proud carriers of their countries flag
And said a smart alec ,
At poem hunter
To my Fuck forums
And unpoetic decorum
“ Firoze you have to tighten your prose
Your bullshit quotient arresting
And not very interesting ‘
Words cloud burst
Inundated poor harvesting
Poem hunter critic
I am not jesting
And keeping in mind
What ever pompous piss ass advice
You are suggesting.
Seems to be nasty and not too interesting
Try it on an American poet
Whatever on my Indian ass you are testing
And now God Bless I am resting ..
Bandra Bazar Road
in the wrong postal code
death of a poetic toad
Booby trapped feet
Broken hearted feet
Put to sleep
Do not weep
In a Guttered Grave
In a Cluttered Grave
In a Shuttered Grave
Cloud burst waters
Bandra Bazar road
for the Dying brave.
Deleted finally in
Cloudburst of a tidal wave
Before he died
The Bandra Municipaity he forgave
For the sins of his fathers
His kith and kin will enslave
a corrupted file copy and save
This was first page news, a channel went on and on and on and on with the clips of the bash.
Last evening this stage managed media event was live, with the item girl shedding crocodile tears and , she wants an apology from the Popped and Pooped Singer through the media and the police.And what more can I tell you of Castrated Indian News.. yet not come of Age.
And there is so much to India, an India that touches and heals, India that is a love poem..India that is a Diwali wrapped as a Xmas gift , opened as Sheer Korma on Idd.
my poem.. just a footnote fuck forums..I write poetry ..that is jumbled words mastubated thoughts , I stain the unsanctimoniousness of my pajama like poetic plethora..with a a prosaic pause.The picture for this poem is the gyrating posterior of a Eunuch.
Late night bash
And what a splash
And all the trash
In the news
Item girl trips
Item girl weeps
Lose no sleep
Now we weep
An item girl and
So frickin cheap.
And all for
heaps and heaps.
'your USB port has failed due to a power surge'
during an attempted upload I felt I had an urge
To jack of my thoughts and unwordy deeds
actions merge a poetic pause and a purge
love on my first poem to her splurge
spirits anti clockwise movements
of the medicine wheel, kleptomaniac karma
snotty nosed dharma death at her doorstep
demented dangerously disgusting dirge
that the remains of this poet in the Ganges submerge
resurrection in her heart if it ever emerges
the shia thug who cuts his forehead ..
a bleeding back spiritually scourged
if not on this planet on some other
planet some other time will be merged
hard hitting...every hair like word of a follicle...
but does it enter the cranium of an imbecile
who write poetry but do not feel..
tempered blades scathing swords made of steel
pompous piss ass poets run of the mill ..
with piddlish craftsmanship pedestrian skill
some with one leg in the graves over the hill
teaching their peers how to fuck …
when they impotently a thirst cant fulfill
Viagra …some other aphrodisiac pill
An instrument of sorrow that remains still
The lady love languishing like
An unfed dove on a window sill
More interested in finding faults
With other folks poetry..
Why don’t they chill..
Broad band blocked heads
Mounting phone bills
Still clinging to the
Nursery rhyme pail
Of Jack and Jill
lies birthright of a
the father of man
in full bloom ...
live let live
for worm like thoughts
in an unmarked tomb.
God the Dress maker
Man in a Woman’s Costume.
Mans Everlasting Doom.
Dark shadows on his
Ancestral awakening loom
A dead corpse to exhume
The world a mortuary
A tenanted room
The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
I saw this little girl putting her brother to sleep and I was in a ricksha coming from my clients house at Carter Road Bandra, I reversed the Rickshah and shot this picture, I did not use flash at all as I wanted to show that one day this Girl Child too will be a Mother and a very good mother, and when the winds blow the Cradle wont fall.
Motherhood is a pavement on the banks of a tarred street.
MembPoem: 7883689 - poets make me crazy
Member: Ted Sheridan
Comment: Bravo....that forum is a pit and when you enter it you need to take Hemlock
The moon on the mound of my eye
Untruth sodomized by truth..
Accidentally gives birth to castrated lie
In a poets world hunter and the hunted
a jungle I espy
Black Brown and White
Don’t see eye to eye
Poet preying upon poet
Poetry the fall guy
In a cockless world
Of eunuch poets
Of racist poets
Thank you Tai
Poets like Ted Sheridan
The system defy
Along with this Man from Mumbai
Fucked Forums that this word will pass by
Good human beings among pissed ass pompous poets
In short supply
Hedonistic heathen half witted hard nosed poets
Kiss my multicolored ass goodbye
“Little sister shed no tears,
No woman no cry “
Bandra bazar road,
Municipal blind eye
A city that the money grabbing politicians
The land mafia want to make shangai
Most Wanted Tailorman’s store
Dress egos, undress angst
On a weather beaten high
Fucked trade that I ply
Fall in love in America
Daydreaming in Mumbai .
Finger fucking key board
my monitor heartless in Dubai
my soul fired on 4th of July.
her arrow my demoralized ass
irresistible bulls eye..
And no cocks she said
At poem hunter
Cornwall critical poetic private eye
Castaway castrated hermit crab..
Beach combed on her heart to die.
Empty inbox no reply.
Digital dude I don’t love you
Inscribed on a cobbled grave
Of a three headed monster from Mumbai
Saying prayers on the departured souls of
Fostered brain Fucked Foulk
Arsewell ..fucked forum poets
That won’t live in poetry books
Even after they die..
Suffocated bag of air
Laughing on the sly
bride of insanity
truth of a
a drop of charity
a human rarity
devoid of parity
a bane to familiarity
man a product
of his own barbarity
killing his own kind
to keep alive
a new prosthetic love
ends the series of repairs to my burnt cable..
the festered , gangrened , green swollen part he cut
severed, me from my wound,
he could not cut..
vaginal miseries monologued
of an unrepentant slut
penile headed cable
writhing in the mud
soaked spiritually in her
memories after memories
on my camera consciousness flood
the color of her butter scotched butt
the fallow ground
a poetic pause
mind over matter
my soul unstable.
a perpipheral thought
at the lords table.
poem hunter forum god save
burnt asses from further masking..
suffocated waste driven poets
under the shadow of imminent death basking
with due respect to ask..and some animal talk forum..
a shallow grave
no women to weep
the designer no1
the mouth watering mound
of his sucked up sorrow
a garbage heap
good things in life
don’t come cheap
as you sow
so shall you reap
let her dance
a poetic faux pas
flippered fucked feet
skimpiness of her mind
fuck dont get fucked
look before you leap
or take a finger fucked sweep
a pictorial shrine
the grave of
american women poet
undressed up as promiscuous little bo peep
The road ahead to purgatory via poem hunter’s hell
Pilgrims head to a remote jungle temple to be blessed by Steve, 32, from Tooting, South West London.
He places his third finger on the their foreheads and mutters: “The goddess is here”.
Surrounded by followers, Steve told The Sun: “I love being here. I don’t miss anything about Tooting.”
He is regarded as a reincarnation of Bahucharaji, the patron of Indian eunuchs. He has been at the temple in the northern state of Gujarat for three months.
Every time Steve walks through the local village, people flock to greet him, shouting: “Jay Bahuchar Ma” - “The goddess is here.”
Gender bender Steve calls himself Pamela. But his devotees have dubbed him Prema — Hindi for Divine Love.
He said: “All my life I just didn’t fit.
“Now I’ve found my life. I plan to stay for good. I couldn’t leave now.
“They revere me and believe I am a goddess. I feel what they feel in me.”
Steve was living in a tiny flat in Tooting until deciding on his new career after Indian friends told him he looked and moved just like the ancient goddess.
As soon as he arrived at the temple he was treated as a deity.
He now gets up at dawn and dresses in a holy saffron robe before beginning the daily ritual of blessings.
Steve said: “I feel as if I have come home. I was meant to be here. When I first came to the temple, I sat down and smiled. Everything fell into place.
“After about 20 minutes everyone crowded around and I naturally started blessing people. When I touch people I connect with them.”
Hindu pilgrims have no doubts about his powers. When we asked Bhanu Barot why she was so keen to receive Prema’s blessing, she said, simply: “Because she is a goddess.”
Another woman, Rekha, said she had travelled for days to be blessed by Steve. She added: “My sister-in-law came here and she got pregnant immediately.
“I am hoping the same will happen for me after receiving the blessing of the goddess.” But last night Steve’s stunned brother Justin Cooper said: “He’s just an ordinary guy.
“He never told me anything about this.”
Steve now follows a strict vegetarian diet and sleeps in a spartan room. He lives among 80 eunuchs — castrated men — at the temple. But some have their doubts that he is equipped to be a goddess.
A eunuch called Sudha said: “He is a fake. I checked and he still has a peni*.
“He is a male so can’t be a goddess. He shouldn’t give blessings.” Steve, who has a tattoo of the goddess on his arm, just insisted: “I am both male and female.”
He grew up in Shepshed, Leics, with brother Justin.
Unmarried printer Justin, 36, who still lives in the town, said: “I last saw him about four years ago.
“He had developed a fascination with Hinduism and was visiting temples in London.
“Then about eight months ago he sent me a text saying he was off to India — then another arrived saying he was loving it.
“But we had no idea of the role he was playing.”
Followers of the goddess Bahucharaji Mata believe she was once a princess who castrated her husband because he showed no interest in sex.
Sita Ben Rawal, a trustee of the temple, said of Steve: “People think it is the power of the goddess Bahucharaji that has driven her to come here.
“I’m surprised someone from London would want to come here but we are very happy.”
Vanraj Thakor, who manages the temple guest house where Steve lives, added: “Even here, pilgrims come to receive blessings. It’s incredible.”
www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2007140831,00.html - source
taken from the net topics on third sex…
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Koovagam is a village in the Ulundurpet taluk in Villupuram district, Tamil Nadu. It is famous for its annual festival of hijras and homosexuals, which takes fifteen days in the Tamil month of Chitrai (april/may).
The festival takes place at the Koothandavar Temple. The hijras marry the Lord Koothandavar, thus reenacting an ancient myth of Lord Vishnu/Krishna who married him after taking a form of a woman called Mohini. The next day, hijras mourn the god Koothandavar’s death through ritualistic dances and by breaking their bangles. An annual beauty peageant and several other competitions like singing contests are held.
Basic rights of hijras and healthcare are discussed in seminares too.
Hijras from different places travel to this festival. A lot of men, who do not identify as hijras or even homosexuals gather there to have sex with the hijras during the festival.
Navarasa (Nine Emotions) (2005) is a film directed by Santosh Sivan. The film is in Tamil, with English subtitles. It has met with a strong reception since its release, and has been shown at many film festivals across the world including the Singapore International Film Festival, the Pusan International Film Festival, Korea, the Taipei Golden Horse Film Festival, Taiwan, the Sao Paulo International Film Festival, Brazil and the Lyon Asian Film Festival, France among others. In January, 2006 it was selected as an official entry to the International Film Festival Rotterdam.
The film revolves around the story of a young girl Shweta (P. Shwetha) taking her first steps towards adulthood. Ready for the adventure, the thirteen year old is upbeat, however soon discovers that every night, her uncle Gautam (Kushboo) transforms himself into a woman to lead a completely different life. When Shweta confronts Gautam on the matter, Gautam tells her he wishes to run away and marry Aravan at a local festival, the Koovagam Festival. The festival is held annually where people of the third gender regularly meet to re-enact the story of Aravan, a character from the epic Mahabharata. Shweta decides to find her uncle and bring him back home, and along the way, she makes new friends of the third gender, and discovers a whole new culture.
April 20th, 2007
more pictures click link
Deity worshiped: Sri Iravan (Aravan in Tamil) and Sri Krsna as Mohini-murti.
Description: This festival celebrates Sri Iravan’s marriage to Lord Krsna’s Mohini form and his subsequent sacrifice. In order to assure victory for the Pandavas in battle, Iravan, the son of Arjuna, agreed to sacrifice himself to goddess Kali. His last request before dying was to marry and lose his virginity but since no girl would marry a man about to be sacrificed, Krsna assumed His Mohini form and fulfilled Iravan’s request. The festival lasts for six days and reenacts both the unusual marriage and Iravan’s sacrifice. Tens of thousands of crossdressers, transgenders and homosexual men assemble together for what is perhaps the largest of all third-gender festivals in India. At the climax, an effigy of the local Koothandavara deity (Iravan) is burned and thousands of crossdressers express their great distress by wailing, beating their chests, breaking their bangles, etc.
When: The main festival falls on the Tuesday before the full moon of Vaishaka (April-May; called Chaitra in Tamil Nadu). The entire festival begins four days before that.
Where: Koovagam, Tamil Nadu, India. Koovagam is a very small, rural village, so accommodations should be made in the nearby town of Villupuram (174 kilometers south of Chennai).
Your home sweet home
at Carter Road
Have a splash
All your goodwill
Today you encash
Nothing is impossible
Let your detractors
Their teeth gnash
Some at Midday
Will try to gatecrash
Main Stream Media
This blogger whiplash
The Greatest show on Earth
A great Jalsa some
Prateeksha and Bash
Privacy is far more important
Than 2 million in cash
Yes Bachchan Khandan
Amitji Jaya Ji Shweta
A cut of class
The IT guys
Dressed as media persons
Dark glasses a mike
April 20th, 2007
When I visited Lakshmi during Ramzan , her parents were at their hometown in Uttar Pradesh .
So I did not meet them.
Lakshmi showed me her brothers wedding album, that she attended as a man, she can seamlessly take either identity and still remain the center of attraction, this is a God given quality , not found among other transgenders I have met,.
For Lakshmi coming from a feudal Thakur background where masculinity is highly touted, considered a macho thing, femininity is looked down disdainfully.
So for Lakshmi to give up the biological trappings of her masculinity , become woman is a choice that must have been very difficult to make, her family is ultra conservative , even the ones in her hometown, the pictures don’t lie.. Circumstances do.
So I think whatever Lakshmi s choice her mother has been her strength,, for her mother Lakshmi will always remain a boy.. I come to this conclusion, because of a phone conversation with her Mom.. Her mother does not know me nor have we met earlier. Though Lakshmi and I share a healthy friendship of 11 years.
The phone call went this way..
Me “..Is Lakshmi there”.?
Her Mom.. “I am Lakshmis mother , he is sleeping..”
That was as short and sweet she politely hung up on me.
So I have wanted to meet this personality, her mother, but somehow going all the way to Thane with my wounded hand would be suicidal in the train rush..
I wanted to go to Koondathavar.. for the Koovagam Hijda festival but it looks bleak…
Today I have downloaded pictures from my comp, to show you guys fresh stuff… instead of mass copying posts from my home site to Word Press.
Category management has taken me almost two days, I was not much good…in this aspect of Blogging…At Buzznet we added tags, put them in their respective photo galleries, the best was the mass editing.. I could shift them to any gallery I wanted..
I have over 800 tags or more so you can imagine what I have to go through…
But I take all this in my stride…its about 5.30pm, Juhu must be choc a block, suicidal to even think of going there , the Abhiash wedding is the greatest show on Earth this side of Midnight..All I can say the gold dust will settle down.. May they live happily ever after..
I have pictures of their new house 85 Naivedya where they will be living… at Carter Road…Sunset Boulevard…
April 20th, 2007
They call us kafirs
They call us heretics
They call us raffidis
They call us by all
Kinds of denigrating names
With our thoughts
We are Shia born
We will Shia die
Even after death
We will Shia be
We lovers of
Our lesson in history
Yes call us by any name
We are Shias
Shias we wll be
By any other name
Is Yazidiyat you see
Under the banner
Only Shias you will see
You should not be
Shocked or surprised
We are Shias born to
Shed tears by a Holy Decree
We are branches
Of such a tree
We love the Holy Progeny
Azadari E Hussain
What makes us Shia
Now you can see
Even in little
You will see
Enemies of Shiasm
Are enemies of Humanity
I read some real disparaging words against Shiasm , I think sites that propagate Hate towards any community should be completely blocked on the Internet sites such as Allah Ho Akbar , Char Yar, some Iternet policing is very important at an early stage…These are sites that fuel Hate , sectarian violence ,hate for a particular Nationality, hate for India and Indians specially Muslim Indians,site that are funded by a certain Islamic or perhaps UnIslamic school of thought with abundance of petro dollars at stake..very soon the dirt will find its way on their doorsteps too..
Most of these sites propound the Wahhabi doctrine of a puritanical Islam..
May 7th, 2007
The Koovagam festival is over , , also read the blogs of a senior lady who has posted the picture of the Aravani Beauty Contest at Sulekha Blogs, it is a gutsy article I salute a fellow blogger though I have a bitter taste of my short sojourn at Sulekha Blogs.. Well I shall remove all the bitter memories and move ahead.
Sharique who has shot pictures of the latest Koovagam Festival ..actually he had used the pictures from Times of India he said much later to a query from some visitor on his site…
This is his Link .
Thousands take part in Koovagam festival
Eunuchs welcome Tamil Nadu Government move to assure their basic rights
My Belgian Marc de Clercq friend who was in Villuparam to shoot the 2007 Koothandavar Koovagam festival is expected in Mumbai from Chennai ., I hope he has found his stolen Hassleblad Equipment.
I hope he shares his adventures with me that I can share with all you guys.
I had gone to SL Raheja Hospital once again , I had stopped my daily walk regime my sugar shot, up, Dr PG Talwalkar has told me to continue with the medication and Insulin intake,.
Dr Sunil Vaze the surgeon feels I have a hair line minor fracture near the wound, so I will have to wait for it to self heal..bear the rigorous pain.
Had this not occured I would have landed with my ass at the Koothandavar festival.
Picture is of a Hijda who visits Koovagam festival regularly.Lucky One.
My comment on Shariques post on Koovagam.
Thank you Sharique for your kindness and concern,this part of interconnecting via blogs , intersharing topics of mutual content makes an added impact on those who read us.
Hijdas even today are considered freaks,hence an unending curiosity of their life styles.But Hijdas are more human due to the tavesty of their dichotamous gender,,they are bottled pickled pain of being born human in an inhuman society,I am very close to the Hijdas I am a heteroseual disciple of my Transgender Guru Laxmi Narayan Tripathi.
I like you hope one day they attain a new dawn , given the repect they deserve..gender chice is a fundamental right , to be what one wants be without social pretensions or fear of a social backlash..or bycott.
The Healing is the Cure…
I just want you guys to take hold of this
opportunity from ASSHOLES INC.
ASSHOLES INC is distributing Cat Assholes for free
over the Internet to compete with PUSSY CATS CORP.
which is doing the same. They want to be better
known through the Internet by blow jobbed word of mouth
and so they are giving away their new unwashed Cat Assholes free.
All you need to do is mail this to 8 of your
acquaintances. In two weeks you will receive
a unwashed CatAsshole If you send this email to 20 people
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cc to ville 13
Rev 13:17 And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.
Rev 13:18 Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.
The Mark of the Beast
A Star that came from the Far East
Of a Coven and a Feast
Exorcizing a Past
Buried and Deceased
And the Soul of a Master
In a Serpent
The Fear and Agony
Shadow of a High Priest
Wolf cult command
Fish the net
six hundred three score and six
poem without dicks
poem not for pricks
poem not for chicks
walls without bricks
satan and his bag of tricks
my designer ass
tatooed with her kicks.
saved by the power of 786
dedicated to a Welsh man Aljie
Close and go to bridge
Save for web
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
New fill layer
New layer based slice
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
Read water mark
Woman is a file
Fit on screen
Woman is a file
Woman is a file
dedicated to a French man Drunken El Gekko
My monotonous macawed chant
I can I could I cant .
My thought like creepers
I could not transplant
The gloom of my tears
Un potted unwatered
To her soul supplant
She midwife to blogs
And an Agony Aunt
Freak Powered Tricks
Periscopic Prostituted Pricks
Dead Bolted Dumbfounded Dicks
Karmic Kalaeidiscopic Kicks
While I perish
The Best Of A Best Friend Xris Taylor Made -Buzznet Tinies
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
the buzznet tinies
wrote this cuz i was bored
and cuz Edward Gorey rocks!
A is for axa who was poisoned with gold and also for abbie who died form a cold
B is for bigtanky now go suck a fuck she died of claustrophobia well she actually got stuck
C is for Comentatorno1 and his brother P1 they both gorged themselves on some bad curry lamb
D is for dvl, dgecko and doubleb they fell off a mountain while looking for me
E is for ero, that guy was a champ but then he got stabbed one night by a tramp
F is for feebalk, funksteena and friartuck while crossing the street they got hit by a truck
G is for ghostgirl and the lovely sweetgee they got shot by teacher at a university
H is for hunhun and while at burning man she blew herself up along with her van
I is for ilisu who loved colors bright and was tragedly killed in some senseless fight
J is for finkel, trust me on the spell, her and the abscondmongrel got sent back to hell
K is for kristyanne a shortie sweet chick who got trampled to death by a rednecked hick
L is for lexmonkey he disloged his jaw he turned inside out and that's all i saw
M is for matt who had little dogs but wasn't inmune to adam's stinky clogs
N is for northshorerian she called buses a (boose) and while tending her garden got gored by a moose
O is for ooo he had bad bad luck, his big frenchie head got squashed by a rock
P is for paxgitmo a great mind for blogging and while fighting for freedom triped a mine without knowing
Q is for quixotic she loved to hang loose and she still hanging up there, her neck on a noose
R is for ribstealer who was afraid of the rain and while looking for cover got hit by a train
S is for schvetybetty she was a girly deluxe but she fell one day to some strong chicken pox
T is for tomdog he was also big tease and fell to his own tomdog bug disease
U is for u and those i forgot i really can't ryme so tis all i got
V is for venomiss she was stalking jolie and fell on her head while climbing a tree
W is for woodnutter a man with broad shoulders who got traped in at work in between of two boulders
X is for xris the guy writing this he ate a big steak and got madcow disease
Y is for yorrick he had a thing for a goose but was killed by a lady with a big huge caboose
Z is for zilzala the natural disaster she finally found love but was eaten by her master.
Posted: 10/22/2005 8:16 AM
Top of Form
Separate Buzzwords With Commas
Bottom of Form
steve: 10/22/2005 8:52 AM
photo/comentator #1 rule
xris: 10/22/2005 9:03 AM
yes they do
funksteena: 10/22/2005 9:05 AM
lol. very nice xris.
paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 9:25 AM
Xris, this is even better than Gorey.
I like TQ1s and I had a relationship like Zilzala's once.
More bedtime reading for Steve.
kristyanne: 10/22/2005 9:30 AM
thequixotic1: 10/22/2005 9:34 AM
Thanks xris, I haven't been so informally informed of the manner of my death since the last time I played "light as a feather, stiff as a board." :)
I think Lex & Tomdog are my favoritest lines.
tomdog: 10/22/2005 9:44 AM
I love Gorey and you've done a great spoof! and thanks so much for the mention
lexmonkey: 10/22/2005 9:49 AM
axa13: 10/22/2005 9:52 AM
Thanks, oh thanks, oh thanks be to you
Here's a lost line I found in my shoe:
S is for Steve the man with the Buzz Button
While chasing the girls he choked on some mutton
Fortunately, like Photographerno1 I will return to at least haunt you
photographerno1: 10/22/2005 10:17 AM
ARE YOU HAPPY NOW THAT WE ARE DEAD.
WILL YOU KEEP FUCKING YOUR EMPTY BED.
OR WILL YOU GET UP SOZZLED
AND GO DOWN ON YOUR SHADOW AND GIVE HIM HEAD.
NO SICK MAN TO OUR COLLECTIVE GRAVE
LIGHT CANDLES AND SEE THEM BLOW
AND CRY AND YOU SELF GUILT SHOW
THEN RUN TO DRSTEVELIFEGIVINSKY
FALL AT HIS FEET TO BRING US BACK TO LIFE
AND WE WILL COME
ALL OF US
ALL THE KNIVES IN YOUR BUM
WITH YOUR ENTRAILS
A GUITAR WE WILL STRUM
YOUR SWOLLEN ENJOINED TESTICLES
WILL BE BONGOS FOR OUR DRUMS
WE WILL PEEL YOU, CRUSH YOU,
AND THROW YOU IN A HEARSE
THAT WILL THROW YOU AT ABU GHARAIB
ON A LEASH OF A BEARDED IRAQI NURSE
AND CSOTBA SWEET CSORBA.
BETTY, AXA, FUNK,RIB
TATYANA POODLES ,
AND ALL OF US WILL CURSE
AND EVEN IN YOUR NEXT LIFE
OUR DEATH YOU WILL NEVER REHEARS.E.
THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY
WILL BURN WHATS LEFT OF YOU
ON A STAKE
AND AUTOMATED BUZZBOT
WILL FEATURE YOUR END
AND FOREVER MY HAND SHAKE.
SUPORTED BY STEVEN
AND NOW XRISX WE ARE
paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 10:21 AM
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
schvetybetty: 10/22/2005 10:24 AM
his big frenchy head! hahaaahahahaaaahaaaahha!
xris: 10/22/2005 10:25 AM
haha p1 cracks me up!!!!!
axa13: 10/22/2005 10:42 AM
Yes, PNO1 does that to me, too.
I think I see a great new Epic Bollywood horror film being hatched.
photographerno1: 10/22/2005 10:50 AM
OTHER MEMBERS OF THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY
WILL ALSO COME
TO WRITE A COLLECTIVE POETIC EPITAPH
ON YOUR ..DISGRACEFUL BUM..
ALL THAT WE DID FOR YOU FORGOT
ONBUZZNETS CYBERMAGIC JUST A BLOT
AND TO KILL US ALPHABETICALLY
A SINISTER PLOT
AND YOU SAY SO WHAT..
WILL CUT OFF YOUR
PENILE ENVYISH... SLOT
hunhun: 10/22/2005 10:55 AM
:) :0 :) :0 :) :0 :) :0
Closer to the truth than you know, my friend
northshorerain: 10/22/2005 11:10 AM
Hilarious xris !! :D !
drunkgeko: 10/22/2005 11:16 AM
Héhéhéhé.... très sympa Xris!
Merci à toi! :)
ribstealer: 10/22/2005 1:43 PM
holy swollen nuts, xris!! i must admit this is my first xposure to Gorey...reminds me of a bad acid trip or three...or twenty-six...!
i find it teeth-chatteringly fascinating - cheers you crazy mo-fo, keep churning that butt-er!!!!!
paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 2:30 PM
You've no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.
What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the Ocean.
Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.
It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.
So- I've brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me.
- Jalaluddin Rumi
ooo: 10/22/2005 2:53 PM
So THAT's what happened! :D
abscondmongrel: 10/22/2005 4:28 PM
X is for "XXXcellent" just like Mr. Burns
R is for rancid, the meat that had turned
I is for Ice cream that gave him the runs
S is for shitty, the smell of his buns.
venommlss: 10/23/2005 4:20 AM
"V is for venomiss she was stalking jolie and fell on her head while climbing a tree "
Excellent..!! What a way to go!! next time.. can I just fall on her??
feebalk: 10/23/2005 12:54 PM
i love it
thank about the 'F'
bigtanky: 10/23/2005 1:23 PM
hehehe that is the awesome!!
woodnutter: 10/24/2005 8:19 PM
Coolnessness! I actually collect Gorey stuff. I had all 5 of his books. I have some somewhere in in a box. 'alas, I have too much studying to do instead of fun stuff reading....
zilzala: 11/14/2005 10:56 PM
tolovemoon: 01/28/2006 9:50 PM
I knew it! you are nuts just like me! I guess they need to make a pshco hospital so all of buzznetters will have the care needed for all the bolts n screws we loose from lack of sleep, staring at weird pictures, commenting on others stuff.....:) writing crazy but cool journal entries! You still rock Xris! :) Peace!
I have never been able to forget Xris and I had just got to know him, the the rest of his extended family..it was Steve who called me and said that night Xris was slaughtering us all and this is before theThe Massacre at Haditha.. so I took up cudgels and fought a poetic battle.. single handedly..and it is the comments on this Post of Xris that are the Poems.. of all the other Mega stars.., goddesses, god men, and your truly.. the Home boy, Megalomaniac Shia Thug... ha ha ha ..10 9 8 7 5 4 3 2 1 and here I go Bust
And she will never know it.
Feelings that shall remain Untouched.
And A touch is worth all the prayers in the world..
A simple Touch that becomes a Healing Touch..
At the tip of our fingers lies God. or perhaps his Godliness..
Heretical words it may seem, but when you are dying and she touches you and closes your eyelids she has performed that one act of Human kindness and Tenderness..
Her Touch sends you away on a raft and you eyes closed shall finally reach the banks of your Destination.. ..
Untouched by the blasphemies of Life that you leave behind like a snake’s moulted skin.
Yes forgive Me I am in love with Touch..
The Healing, Unfeeling, Touch.
And you can Touch without touching.
She Touches Me each time I think of her.
the Blog Cybernetic Space our combat zone
falling in love with you
My fault bemoan..
Self exiled my sins atone
an Unknown Zone
You ravaged my Soul
A Cataclysmic Cyclone
God Adam Eve
a faulty Rib Bone.
Garden of Eden
You in my Hell
I won’t be Alone.
And the going gets tough
And the weather gets rough
Dont panic,stay cool
And remember the words of a drunk
Stay afloat dont get sunk.
Righteous Indignation debunk
Be wary of shallow waters
Stay afloat and dont get sunk
So says the El Gekko
Also a drunken Old Monk
went to shoot an alaskan fern
got shot instead and has a lot to learn
alaskan winds tempestuously spurn
my tears like seminal drops
within her labial urn
Its an amazing picture , it says so much and so much more.
I could write a poem here or a short story...on a protective armour called the hijab.
that he is a shia the whole world knows ...
from the rivulets of his eyes
a tear of a tragedy as it flows
the color black the color of rose
among all the colors this color we chose
mournful memories in our clothes
enemies of shiasm are our foes
allah ho akbar we expose
reminiscences of karbala
every day is ashura
under their nose
azadari e hussain
stamp of hussainiyat
we dont have to deny our faith
or hide our shiasm
oops fuck taqqaiya
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