Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Who cares a flying fuck for your Sunday Mornings?

Who cares a flying fuck for your Sunday Mornings?
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

photo courtesy

You are a racist no doubt about it
It’s the underdog the downtrodden
That you like too hit
Especially if he is an Indian
Writing in your language
How you hate it
You and your arrogance
You slimy British Wit
You Two Penny Twit
On your grave
In the poem hunter forum
When you die
I will piddle I will spit
Worms devouring you
A hog eating your flesh
Don’t forget to take your
Tooth brush and change of undies
And your travel kit
On the other side
Of midnight
When you do make it
A racist poets Hell
Where your kind
Need no work permit
Along with you
You and your
Licking your ass
Every bit
You mother fucking
Son of a sea cook
All be it
Now take it easy
Don’t throw a fit
For your company
An Aussie Racist poet
On the face of it
1000 poems he will complete
This motherless wit
Who many a colored folks
Throat had slit
You and he tightly knit
Drilling each others ass
You said it..
Isn’t it

My life on a downslide

My life on a downslide
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

photo courtesy

My life on a downslide
Falling falling
Into an abyss of my own making
My bad karma against my time and tide
My kundalini collide
A pain of living unloving
That is not willing to subside
None but my prayers to God
Some positivistic hope by my side
A pain that extends to the faces
Of my loved ones that
My painfulness cannot hide
They hurt more than me
They feel my pain more than me
Because we are a single unit of suffering
They in me I in them reside
Yes paths that coincide
A feeling of pain shared in togetherness
We cannot brush aside
The Lord God of Hosts does provide
Through this poem first time
To all of you I confide
There were times I wanted
To call it days even commit suicide
A depressed thought of my failure
I did push aside
I know my bad days will soon go away
As he supports me
A mantra I have tried
Inside Outside
My Will He Will decide
The Master of my Providence
My Mentor My True Guide

firoze shakir photographerno1

Different Strokes -A Single God

Different Strokes -A Single God
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

photo courtesy

“A donkey with a load of holy books is still a donkey.”

'I searched for God and found only myself. I searched for myself and found only God'.

“IF words come out of the heart, they will enter the heart, but if they come from the tongue, they will not pass beyond the ears.”

“Man's nature is made up of four elements, which produce in him four attributes, namely, the beastly, the brutal, the satanic, and the divine. In man there is something of the pig, the dog, the devil, and the saint.”

Who is a good Hindu
Who is a good Muslim
Who is a good Christian
Who is a good Buddhist
Who is a good Sikh
Who is a good Jain
Who is a good Jew
They all follow their paths
Their destinations
Their goals
Their human souls
Different strokes different poles
In a cosmic stream these shoals
Fishes breathing air water
Taking celestial strolls
Digging for truth like curious moles
He holds the strings of these fleshy puppets
He has the controls
This selfish denizen with beggar bowls
The world a drama stage playing different roles

firoze shakir photographerno1