Sunday, September 23, 2007

































Caught in a Net

Caught in a Net
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
a dove
lost its way
in the net
precariously placed
in the temple of love
to mock its
feathered squeamishness
by god in the heavens above

Marc Steve Anthony Set My People Free

The Lord CyBrahma
Of google gradient seas
microsoft heavens
creator of man birds and bees
bellowed sonorously
Marc Steve Anthony
set my people free
let them go
the cybernetic
universe see ..
flicker their pouted asses
web shotted blasphemy
my space orkut
no better Camelot
like Buzzed off net
online sharing and caring
for its freedom of speech
and maturity ..
let them go to sulekha blogs
pedagogic pederasty
of blogging that
beyond the eye cant see
confused muslims
hindus in hijabs
running around
bollywood filmy trees

ok there are problems
black screen of death
buzznet will be back shortly
comments not happening
but is this the reason for running
that you leave behind
as an escapist idealogy
what will we tell our childrens children
and the cybernetic posterity

all blog sites are harrowing hell holes
buzznet is an island
braving the onslaught
of rough seas ..
wake up Marc Steve Anthony
don’t let this crème de la creme of Bloggers
ever flee
they are the hope the future
of you cybernetic destiny
unless you plan to sell
out your collective soul
to mr gates or msn or yahoo …I wont blame you
but still disagree
something’s like my tube can be sold
but something’s are priceless
like the bloggers that make
up the buzznet family tree

I wrote this poem in the morning much before I got Xris message on my buzz...

buzznet memories..

Our Lady of the Poem Hunter Forum Mount

She has a little child in her hand
Our lady of poem hunter forum mount
Her pages and pages of poetic misery on
Off season Trade discount
There is so much this mother mary
Wants to recount
From the narrows of her minds fount
Read today what you can read tomorrow
On poets individual retirement account


ALLAH HO AKBAR Muslims Love Killing Muslims

They say
The mosque is where Allah stays
I found he is in the heart
Where man prays

Earlier the mosque
A place of worship
Now they lob grenades
The pillars of faith rip
A new terror from
Sacred lips
Brotherhood of hate
And no friendship
Belted guns on the hips
A jihad that I see
my heart skips
cycle bombs
skull caps
blood drips
Mecca Medina
holy places
one worships
now being terrorized
by cybernetic disaster
at finger tips
muslims love killing muslims
the glory and power of a crescent eclipse
why are we losing our grip….
Allah ho Akbar on our lips
Sectarian senselessness we must nip
We owe sanity
And good sense
Traditional values
to the
new generation
that must not trip
Rushing out from a micro chip

allah ho akbar is also a shia hating website
promoted by hate, powered by petro wahhabi dollars
to spite Muslims but in name with each other fight
kill maim shed blood Islamic honor Islamic plight
in Iraq in Afghanistan as Jehadi Terrorism at its height
hidden faces of men in hijabs in the night
Sunni scolars pledge for Peace on Word Press is nothing but
bullshit on sanctimonious posteriors uptight
Might is Might justified by Rogue Mullahs
killing the Kafir is alright
as they their prayers recite
fires of sectarian hate ignite
the masses excite
fatwas of hate to their delight
spewing their bigotry
on human rights

The Crawford Market

as a kid it was here
that i fishes cats
from captains shop bought
captain is dead
a good man
impeccable on the dot
his brother nusrat
from whom turtles
tortoise i bought
is now busy with
his karjat plot
times have changed
my child hood is gone
the rose dies
but leaves behind a thorn..
crawford market where
childish deams were born..
is turning vegetarian..
a municipal scorn..
bought up by the marwari traders
the past never to be reborn

street photography

the sheer joy of shooting
emotions littered on the road
pictures shot on negatives
become poems
pictorial uploads
of prince like living
poverty like toads
aspirations equal
destiny down loads
on my heart
in digital mode

Taj Mahal Hotel

Taj Mahal Hotel
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
wide eyed migrant
dreams to sell
a resonance
of a colonial past
that yells
taj mahal hotel
ajit kerkar
camilla panjabi
does ring a bell
drd tata
madam surmount
malabar stores
jrd tata
apollo florist bawa
joy shoes
madame pompadour
hakim who is no more
memories that come and go
gazdar jewelers
the burlingtons of bombay store
the cigar shop bawa who also is no more
and the gazdar pathan watchman..
who on duty never snored speaking pushtu
sanghe halda
khair da
every time he opened the door
geeta simoes running up and down..
each floor ..
taj teasures
dagina ..
at the taj intercon
life in 1974...
a part
of my memories folk lore

yes i do love you

yes i do love you
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
" If you love me then please let me know because you never know i might just love you to."

that beat upbeat my soul..
i was a part..
a more
a whole..
within a hole
a peephole
on her trembling door

You can't give what you don't have.

beggars love going to houses that dont give them anything....
a thought to my mind spring....
falling in love with greater beggars than themselves
is now a fashion statement and a new thing..
single barreled poet
from which asshole
did he spring...
tring tring tring..
internet connection
linked to her head phones
roger roger over
some happiness brings..
an empty stomach
an empty heart
but a new muse
that gathers me up
writing poetry
stretched out on her gossamer wings
empty vessels ...
water rushing out of leaks
from vicarious voluptuously volatile vaporized vociferous vituperative springs
a wizened weasel like heart of a poet whose lecherous lyricless libido links
tring tring tring..

Saif Shakir

Saif Shakir
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
Saif Shakir
bollywoods most wanted
like father unlike son
arrow headed bullet
fired from a gun

he his lucky
no bleeding rose
this son of firoze
whose battle
is almost won
a job
his mother has
beautifully done
raising him
as his mothers son..

Gateway of India to Burlingtons and Life

i studied here in the mornings
as a kid
at home
the domestic chaos
time would not out rid
dad and mom
a marital road that skid
gateway of india
was where i went and hid
me who was brainy but born stupid

me of holy name high school
that was called tin pot by the campion fools
st anne and fort convent girls orgling
thoughts unspools
nostalgia rules

the old chanawala selling peanuts and channa
watching the pigeons being fed
unschoolish prose sounding like poetry
i read

i learnt to swim
at the gateway pier
when someone
kicked my rear
into the water s
with my school bag
my life so dear
i climbed back the steps
all drenched
body in tears
other kids clapping hands
laughs and jeers

later i worked
at burlington s taj mahal hotel
it was growing along with me
the gateway of India
and the Sea

mr andre kapoor
mrs gaby
treasures of india
dhanraj mahal
in and out
jeniffer kapoor
shashijis clothes
munni gupta
asthamatic shouts
urmillas husband
wanting to beat me
because i asked her out
benjamin caleb
custom clouts
bul bul master
drd tata clothes without
such memories
overflow from
a rusty spout
anjali vanessa
munnis kids
running about
sp gupta
the proud father
anne of a 1000 days
measured out
lorraine rhubottom
me her eagle scout
a shivy
from air india whose time
ran out..
fateh singh rattanchand
my gurus
without whom
i would have been stamped out
holiday treasures
another memory
by death snatched out

running up to sea lounge
to watch the gateway of india
my love for it profound
i saw in a corner the renowned
Frank Simoes and his gang..
talking copywriting language
only vimal soon to be crowned
Dom Moraes and his Muse
great poets all found
procreating history
hard cover bound
a gateway of india
on a mumbai mound

than after many years
for the first time
i shot the shia shabbarat
at gateway
shia bajra the arzis
the shouts
of Ya Ali ..
Ya Mehdi..
no spiritual doubts

the bomb blast
here I dd not shoot
but no bomb
the gateway could uproot
the spirit of a challenge called Mumbai
that we all salute
the barefoot phraseology
of my poem
from my childhood flute
radio club
strand hotel
ramesh mulchandani
dennis fernandes
ramesh alva
ram parsani
unchanging faces
my future come and loot
laughs cries holi colors bhang in pursuit
only ramesh alva being dead
a thought to moot
on dec 10 th
the day of my birth
his pain
his shetty laugh
i will never reshoot

its Better to be Saif than to be Sorry

saif from the age of 8 wanted to marry
a thought at his age quite contrary..

now also his granma
his aunts
in lucknow are looking out
for a mate
arranged marriage
is part of his fate
samiya will endorse
the chioce
i hope its not too late
saif who dearly loves me
but hates me for my poor taste
my bare feet walk post haste
he got rid of my dread locks
distate he did underrate
diana my dreadlock lady
he called her Dayan..
many a times he did
with his venom bait..
saif has never been in love
has never had a date
whom he marries
will be his soulmate..
this is the upbringing
of his mother
i update.

saif is my 24 old son

She Says She is an Open Book

She hides in a veil
Says she is an open book
Perhaps this old geezer
She for a fool mistook
Yes my heart sunk
Onlined and hooked
The best of me
On a slow fire
Simmering hot and cooked
A fact when she injected me
With a virus of love
She drives over my dead body
Crime unbefitting punishment
She connives to have me booked
Resurrecting me as a poet
A pot boiler in his own
Pictorial Juices overcooked

posted 19 nov 2006

The Hijab Going Dutch..

photo courtesy google images

Holland’s Right-Wing Calls For Hijab Ban
THE HAGUE, February 6 ( - The Dutch anti-immigration party List Pim Fortuyn (LPS) has called on Parliament to enact a law banning hijab in public areas, including schools, courts and other administrative bodies owned or financed by the government.
The LPF was a vehicle for Pim Fortuyn, a right-wing populaist known for his anti-Islam rants including that “I am also in favour of a cold war with Islam” and “I see Islam as an extraordinary threat, as a hostile society”.

Rants and ravings Islambhobia in Holland
A LPF whip now becomes a hated wand
Yes the hijab will be banned
Christian symbols are cultural bands
Less harmful than winds from Arabian sands
Such harmful thinking expand
Some compromise to religious sentiments
The Dutch don’t understand
Politics of Hate more important to disband
Multi racial society must live in Peace
Seeds of distrust forces within
Must withstand
The Muslims of Holland
Debate dialogue
Give each other a helping hand
the land you adopt to live in
now becomes your Motherland.

posted 19 nov 2006

Allah Tero Naam Ishwar Tero Naam

for some
hare krishna
hare ram for some
godliness ..
a multicolored drum
different hands
humanity for some
peace loving
a universal feeling become
all sounds emerging
from one ocean
from where they come
om to om succumb
allah ho akbar
heads bowed welcome

they also serve
who are blind deaf and dumb..
a hunger .. of god in every single crumb..

December 22nd, 2006

The Chakra of Unloving

unmoving remorseless
an eternal pain conceal
the medicine wheel
creaky unspokeless
sufferings and sorrows
does reveal
her fate does seal
empty stomach and no meal
the helpless woman
40 winks steal
a pain onion like
crying tears that unpeel.
Beggary so surreal
living blood
that death congeals
some ordeal
Shiva perched
in my camera lens
Hopes to heal

Jabarunam ratha vibu shanadyam
meena dwajam charu krithanga ragam
karam bujayr ankusha anikshu chapam
pushpa thapasou dadatham bhajami

mantra of love ..recite it..
live let live love despite it..

Temple of a Blog Goddess

i do look like ganga din
i have come to the
temple of a blog goddess
to ask forgiveness for my sins
all i can see is a bleeding rose
a battle she cant win..
first get rid of the darkness from within
if you behave perhaps
i will take you for a cybernetic spin..
no sometimes i look like alibaba
say open sim sim..
or sometimes with my latest new muselike lamp
in the silken clothes of alladin.
deleted comments have a habit of
surfacing on the heart
of a blogger no 1's
recycling bin...

ha ha ha
if you are the rose whom are you fighting...
no not this unbottled Djinn ...
who to become a devoted muslim
had to get rid of his foreskin..
that i love american indians
is my cowboy attitude to red skins...
i can see some fellow bloggers
nodding their heads and chins..
flickering smiles made of
crumpled tins

The Girl Child and the Goddess

Sitting outside
The doors of the
the fear and the anxiety
in the eyes of the girl child
a future bleak
future mute
stitched lips that
wont speak
Prejudice no place for pride
betrayal of being born..
a girl a burden..
a liability
a virginity
that carries a price
those who want her will outbid
a pandoras box minus the lid
if your father is an alcoholic
your mother a house maid sweeping
floors cleaning utensils
no one to pay the rent
the ever increasing hospital bills
undulated hope crashing on mole hills.
weeping walls corroded human grills
pain of her living instigates
my imagination
into my camera viewfinder spills

The Big Moment My Profile Page

It was the first time she said
That a part of me
Was not on the profile
Page that she read
My profile page
Has many a people mislead
More than the cuts on my back
Or the slash on my forehead
or my burnt bare feet
on charcoals of hot embers
It is my pain
of unliving
that has bled
a bride
can be unwed
be loved by one
marry someone
else instead
what the future holds
unfurls …
long after you are dead
live and let live
just watch the road ahead
living for the moment
is far better than
day dreams that turn nightmare
tearing your life to shreds
running to shrinks that drill
the fucked cleavage in your head
when you can take it no more
they give you a final adieu
wrap you in a bedspread
a body that got infested
much before the soul fled

Where Are You Now

Where Are You Now
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
You torture
tear my guts apart
a tear from your
eye perched on a
heart beat
of my missing heart
a cybernetic love
that self destructs
before it starts
how far are you from the
keyboard of my hissing heart
internet rationed time
on the monitor screen
of my reminiscing heart

Where Are You Now

Where Are You Now
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
You torture
tear my guts apart
a tear from your
eye perched on a
heart beat
of my missing heart
a cybernetic love
that self destructs
before it starts
how far are you from the
keyboard of my hissing heart
internet rationed time
on the monitor screen
of my reminiscing heart


Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
congratulations ..
well deserved..
dont be too hard on this one..
new muse are hard to find for people that were born multi colored blind.. a saga that you need not out here comes an arrow to kill a dears behind.

a deleted comment a new resting place defined .

You hit less
You hit more
When the going is good
You get sore
Life is talent
Street walking like a whore
A virginal membrane
That lay on my poetic soul
A cycle bumps and tore
Accursed cybernetic
Journalistic ..jiving
Bare feet on a glass
Shard dancing floor
My samba teacher
Who goes by the name of
a blog goddess
of cybernetic folk lore

The Iraq War is a Disaster

Tony Blair, the British prime minister, has admitted in an interview with Al Jazeera English that events in Iraq since the US-led invasion have been a "disaster". Blair was speaking exclusively to David Frost.But he insisted that it was right to remove Saddam Hussein, the country's former leader, from power and blamed al-Qaeda, Sunni fighters and Iran-backed forces for the ongoing violence.Responding to a suggestion from Frost that the conflict had been a disaster from the start, Blair replied "it has", before blaming a combination of factors for the crisis.
photo courtesy google images

Holy Cow
Mother of god
spare the child
spoil the rod
Blair opens his heart
to a Frosty God
the Iraq War is a disaster
words of an English Toy Poodle
The Silence of his Master
Saddam the Iraqi
Bush the American
Both heads
Of a single monster
a collective guilt
who will take responsibility
unending death roster
created by war criminals
a thought that is a mind blaster

this is an old poem

Cybernetic Curiosity that Killed this Cat

A lone winding wretchedness that stretches from my hearts
An oath binding sadness that reaches out from my hearts
A thought reminding madness that hastens out from my hearts
A strange suspensionless languor lacerating jaw locking
My attitude.
Falling in love with you was an ungifted gratitude
Cybernetic curiosity craving counterclockwise no latitude
Passionately pursuing platonically on the plateau of your
Palpitating heart conclude
You and me a new pact renewed
Only your colors on my soul imbued

Vinod Om and Me

Vinod Om and Me
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
vinod from mira road
the friday fleamarket
venturing yoga teacher
bandra bazar road
the blonde haired
adventuring photo
the two of us
chor bazar
double feature
crowds follow us
where we go
like two exotic
endangered species
human beings
defaulted creatures
vinod is a brahmachari
does not look at women in saris
his characteristic feature
me i love women ..
sarees or no sarees
clothes or no clothes
cybernetic love
i do beseech her

Cradle Rape

Cradle Rape
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
A few years back , I was invited by my friend Fahad Pathan to shoot the body piercers or Rafaees near the Mahim Dargah of the Holy Saint Makhdoom Shah Baba Mahimi and this was the first time that I was shooting this Sufi sequence..
The needles were and sharp rusty were rubbed against the ground to make them more sharp ,and were being pushed into the faces of two devotees. one was a mute and he kept signaling me with his eyes to shoot him, the other much older in his 20s was reticent and there was something scary about him, a calm before a storm kind of feeling in the viewfinder and my guts..
I was part of this procession and Fahad Pathan is a celebrity figure , his late father was the Peshimam of the Mosque at the Dargah.
I completed my shoot all on negatives, and the following morning there was an article in the newspaper about a 6 month girl child that was raped by a boy.. I had a strange intuition I knew it was the older boy who might have committed this act as the incident happened in Mahim close to the Dargah , I called Fahad and he was astonished as it was the same person I had shot the night before.
This alleged rapist the Rafaee, who on seeing the neighbors child crying had taken it from the mother to calm the baby and had committed this heinous act of sheer unspeakable brutality….in a lane..
I have no imagination to even picturise what must have taken place.. between the older boy and a six month defenseless child ..

I had blown up the prints of the procession including the boy Rafaees for salon participation, I immediately removed the rapists pictures.. till date they have filled me with sheer hate and disgust.
Last when I discussed this matter with Fahad he told me the lawyers were planning an insanity plea as he is a bit disoriented lad, and with judicious defence he is out on bail and the case is going on , I don’t know what happened to the six month old child.. she must be about 5 years or older now…
Rape is crime that is unforgivable and brutalizes not only the persons body but the entire future life and her consciousness.. rape is also a fashion bollywood movies. rape has different connotation for different people but RAPE is a blunt weapon that destroys everything in a woman.. and a rapist should hang.. no mercy no bargain plea…
And defence lawyers who twist facts to get their clients out on benefit of doubt and other technical savviness too should hang along with their clients..

I saw him
The Rafaee
At Mahim Dargah
his eyes dangerously
his inner chaos
his inner lies
each needle that pricked his face
his face , his lips his ears , his eyebrows
did it really the evil in him chastise..
silence more silence as replies..
the same guy takes the neighbours
six month child .. to calm her innocent cries
in an alley rapes her brutalize
heinously leaves her bleeding ..
she lives ...but does she
a part of mankind dies..
he is scott free out on bail,,
insanity plea..society sucks
what a compromise
man a monster in disguise
another case that will gather dust
to tell you how time flies
all you need is a maverick
story telling defense lawyer
the rape case to stylize
deviously devilishly devise
justice blindfolded
hung by lawyer s neckties
and the honourable judge
bangs the gavel
case dismissed
shuts his eyes.

Man Gets Fucked Women Never Age

As a new born
diapered innocence
Beneath the surface
From the cradle to the grave
Women never age
At any given stage
As a teenager on a
magazines front page
later braking hearts
full speed on mounds
littering corpses of
dimwitted lovers
backstage ..
only to a multimillionaire
her heart engage
sooner or later
marital chaos and rampage
bitter acrimony
divorce alimony
a new lover
second marriage
a new war wage
husband predeceased
a dowager
presiding unfading diva
more monkeys in her cage
women murder men
reflected glory upstage
but the finale of womanhood
women never age
even some other time
some other planet
or space age
i repeat
though buried
four feet
in concrete
in the hastily made grave
at her feet
Women never age
wisdom wrinkles
to batter all
mounted competition
with crowfeet
man simple noble man
betrayed by that
self suicidal heart beat
a woman that placed me
in this bloodstained
winding sheet
my coffin shaped like a sanitary
in defeat..
women who love
betray and always
fuckin cheat..
but the misery
of the quintessential
myth of a woman
in her bottled womanhood
from his web page
he can never delete

Ode to a Bride

Ode to a Bride
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1
who at birth
was born a bride
i love her feelings that
i sheepishly confide..
she gets upset
i am too old to fight
scarred bruised
women are women alright
now back to the bride
my thoughs sensual
a physicality
that takes me by surprise
i cant hide
i shower it in her love passage
an orgiastic delight
slide and glide
to germinate fertilize
a poem of love
zone system
in black and white
she me
its not about
a split open wide
ahh the great divide
she who one day will
be someone elses bride
she is my poem
my poetrys pride..
my soul in her pillow
disembodied at her bedside..

i love her this
ready made
born bride
this is surely the truth
words she said..
in childish

i love you
a million times
killing me each time
I died..

this was a streak of bad luck at poem hunter a few summers back.. my poetic ethnicity killed my love..

A circus in town called poem hunter forum

photo courtesy

Entertainment value complete
come join and compete
poem hunter forum circus
watch mind boggling feat
lady ring mistress
dainty feet whip in hand
god save you if you bleat
funny dwarves hogging limelight
with love trick and treat
trapeze artistes on tight rope
you miss a heart beat
lady poets on poetic heat
canine poets horny as hell
rushing to their teat
humping for dead meat
pages and pages unstoppable
advertising sheets
some in your hands
some pasted on the streets
Howlin the Master of Ceremonies
Is here to greet
Angie wooed by Morgan Spencer
Oh how tweet
Lady Lambeth in my sonnet
Poetic dreams I meet
Divorce proceedings replete
Yes Wife No1 I delete
Cut and paste new one
Uncopied I cheat
Poem hunter forum circus
The rogue mullah Abdullah kasai
spirtual bigotted conceit
Back from Ijtema
In his winding sheet
Some more radicalism
He will excrete
as his balance sheet
Pussy wuzzy thoughts
To trade as
old wounds secrete
meet the elite
do what you have to do
but fu**k be discreet
the only place
where eye to eye dont meet
hatred racism in poetry
off beat..
monopolised menstrual machinations
and deceit
as I retreat from poem hunter circus
forum toilet seat


The Whipper in his Shop

Whip in my hand
i moved into my shop
the guy who was shooting me
his heart almost stopped
the whipper shocked
to see me do this
jaws almost drop
sweating pain

The Whipper from Mumbai 4

I did what the
would dare not do
i tried to strangle my neck
with a hard stoke of the whip
almost cutting my upper lip
but the neck remained
a body perched on her hip..
a mind in love
an iceberg
kissing the point of the tip..
cybernetic courtship..
a viking goddess all american
that i sincerely worship

The Whipper of Goddess Yellama

His diety
goddess yellama
and outside my shop
he took his whip
a crack
a slash
cutting his back
his form
of worship
his method of earning
no back track