Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Shiasm Up Close

the blood of our forefathers
from every face flows
1400 years
our pain grows
a chapter
that shall
never ever close
blood like melting ice
our ancestry of pain shows
we bleed
to remind the world
of a spiritual terrorism
on the soul of humanity
as Moharam
the whole world knows
save those
lovers of Mauwiyah
lovers of Yazid
behind close doors
the Lion of Karbala
on the banks
of the Euphrates
lets out a roar
Hussain is Humanity
a thought implores
the standard of Hussainiyat
on all hearts soars
puritanical poison
as Yazidiyat ignores
the Beauty of Islam
Hussain restores

Shiasm Up Close
A path of Truth
that we chose
through our blood
a conspiracy of hate
expose ..
Allah Ho Akbar
scriptured silence
of all our foes
read this as a poem
or read it as prose
testament and will
of men in black clothes

Moments of Joy

moments of joy..where have they gone
ask the rose.. the rose will say
ask the thorn..
some are rich
some poor born
the Richie Rich
the poor
the underprivileged
scorn
some blind
groping the darkness
searching for a new dawn
moment of sadness
a moment forlorn
a spiritual soul
in a waste basket
tattered and torn
a reflected moment
as a poem reborn
walking barefoot
kissing mother earth
on the soul of a lawn
hate only hate
loves to spawn



This was a line of a comment turned into a poem..

Parting is Shared Sorrow

www.glennlosackmd.com/-/glennlosackmd/
Picture posted here will now be more nicely seen on Dr Glenn Losack MD photo stream on Flickr..

Welcome Bro
Welcome Pro..

www.flickr.com/photos/glosackmd/


this image i shot and named "PARTING!"
it is taken at BOCA CHICA beach DOMINICAN REPUBLIC
the subject is broken hearted, disintegrated, parted, fragmented
she is not new to rejection abandonment and a new man
yet pain from the sight of his parting plane
is never old
she is distraught. wiping tears. this is not a paradise for her

Text Dr Glenn Losack MD

my poem of pedestrian polemic pain

parting is shared sorrow
stained bed sheets
writhing in pain
a lost tomorrow
an empty gilded cage
a dead sparrow
shot in the heart
by her lovers
poisonous arrow
flustered feathers
bone and marrow

Marziya and the Whippers

The whippers is a community I shoot as fervently as I shoot the hijras, I met both of them near the Bazar and called them close to my shop, I told them I would pay them, I gave them Rs 10..They took it without a grouse but were excited by the photography.
Marziya was seeing them for the first time and I did not ask them to whip themselves , a huge crowd collects..but I would have got some great pictures.
These were the best whippers I have ever met, friendly congenial..curious.
They were happy with what I gave them, without demanding a pound of flesh.
Sometimes it is difficult to convince people I should pictures not to make money, they think I am crazy..
But what really gets me on my goat I see many whipper kids near my area and my camera is at home, and these guys are on the move..most of this happens when I am expecting a client at my shop..I cant be measuring people and shooting whippers atthe same time..
I had posted my best pictures and stories at Now Public..and the whippers is one of my best narratives of street pain, whipping the body to keep the soul alive..luckily I dont need the highlight tool to highlight this..luckily I have no racist editorial constrains..
I am my own editor..Fuck Culture..
I know this sounds Strange if you are searching only for newsworthiness through another mans journalistic effort that you will be soon sodomizing with your thoughts ..makes me wonder ..
I think a Photo Blog holds the answer to a key of street wisdom..a pearl in an oyster of Ignorance..

Eid Ul Fitr Namaz Bandra Station 2018

Flickr