fuck you he says
why have you banned
me from my beloved city
blowing his trumpet
his pain he conveys
for those who give
him money food
on the way
he is all praise
he is not
a bar dancer
a terrorist
or a non state actor
from any other place
or unwanted stray
he is a pucca indian
rules laws he obeys
than he pleads
to allow him
to visit his beloved city
on week days
a definition of divinity
lord ganesha he portrays
he wants to walk
on the bandra worli sea link
with mr amitabh bachchan
on his back to cut through
political malaise
shrewdness street savviness
'he displays
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Fuck You He Says
The Requiem of Pain
“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”
Mother Theresa
“Love means exposing yourself to the pain of being hurt, deeply hurt by someone you trust.”
“I understand with love comes pain, but why did I have to love so much?”
“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”
Lance Armstrong
So many memories
on the battlefield
of her young life
Poetic nostalgia
Killed maimed and slain
At her feet paying tribute
To this young Queen of Pain
Brainless hearts
Heartless brains
All seeking her patronage
She freedom seeking
In a cybernetic gilded cage
Nappy wearing Cupid
Arrow headed also her page
The fool the wise also the sage
Her wisdom seek and engage
Poem hunter poems
Poets seeking center stage
But pain of not falling in love
Only the loveless can assuage
Borrowed internet time
Brooding over a
cerebral cleavage
bye bye ass hole she says
causing a poetic
bloodless hemorrhage
The Spiritual Beauty of The Goat
serenity dignity
to which he is bound
ready for the butcher
when he comes around
the definition of his life
is death without defiance
he will be slaughtered
a sacrifice profound
their heads bowed in prayers
be it mumbai or karbala of old
a thought in the foreground
tears on the soul of humanity
a thought home bound
he gave his head but not his hand
he stood his ground
Half Man Half Woman
androgynous
is his ethos
half man
half woman
he is his
own boss
a rolling stone
gathering moss
once he was beautiful
fucked sucked
by the rich and the mighty
but today he is gross
a profit turned to loss
an effect also a cause
life's poetic pause
he carries his own cross
The Bawa of Bhendi Bazar
He is a mad man , he is in the worst stage of madness , but he has gained the notoriety of a saint , he defecates on the road , you can see his manhood peeping out through his loin cloth, he eats through his beard , he is a sight that would put you off food forever .
Yet once it gets dark and the gemstone guys have shut their shops , rich Miya kids come on their bikes , snazzy cars , bring food for him, press his legs ask him for a number to bet on in the Satta Bazar ..the number he utters has made a few of them millionaires is the gossip on the streets ..
This is blogging the street soul of Mumbai
I had forgotten to pay my You Telecom bill due to an oversight so they suspended my services , I paid them rs 855 to get back on the net and its the system that shuts up your account they say, yet for the shut down of their system for flimsy reasons they never paid me for the outage is not relevant..3 years they have not given me a refund on the modem deposit in spite of several reminders is You Telecom for you .. my Internet Service provider.
So even to be on the Internet , mouse clicking my own soul I have to pay for it..or be shut out forever..
Poetizing The Soul of Pain
Firoze... your poetry flows smoothly...
do words come right to your mind whenever you see an inspiring photo..?
i'll keep clicking "Like" i hope you don't mind... i'ts a great pleasure to have you as a friend..
m
a facebook friend
my response
i am in a sad mood due to various reasons i cant pin point, what i am posting are old pics .. from my set at flickr street photography because of my pain i see them in a new light a light that embeds the words without even making an effort to poetize my pictures..call it god gift on which i dont have to pay wealth tax as yet...
i thank you for your friendship too
the hardships
of life we all have to face
but for some its tough
real tough mind over
matter matter over space
being pulled down a sewer
but surfacing head
above shoulders
dignity above grace
bad times good times
a seasonal phase
with determination
with grit we have to erase
pain is the greatest denominator
greater than any religion
its religiosity we embrace
because we are human
dreamers dreams we chase
through wastelands of
our human race
allah ho akbar
allah be praised
to maha kemal
Mamta Ki Chhaon Main
zindagi main
gham har tarah
ke ate hain
kuch khali
pet ko bhi
ake kha jate hain
ag ki tarah
sare jism
se lipat jate hain
ham jahn
the usi dejleez par
khali hath
khade rah jate hain
muflisi ki ad main
apne dil ko behlate hain
acche din sirf
paiswalon ke ghar
main nazar ate hain
hamari gali main akar
hamare ghar ka pata
bhool jate hain
Jennifer Naidu commented on your link:
"You not only capture the pain with your lens but your empathy pours out with such beautiful verses BEAUTIFUL ! perhaps we need to look at our own selves and appreciate what we have."
dedicated to jeniffer naidu
East Meets West
flatless phenomena
padded bras
stuffed smoothly on her chest
mini skirt uncovering her rest
while they in sarees
thoughts abreast
do protest
take this window mannequin
to test east meets west
toss a coin
to find out who is best
birds of a feather
flock together
lay eggs in someone else s nest
a metaphoric mindlessness on request
The Ear Cleaner Man
This is a typical quintessential Mumbai street corner scene..the human ear has vaginal longings too,labial lechery,but no clitoral claustrophbia...
For Rs 5 / the ear cleaner man transports your hidden desires, your longings as he penetrates the cravings of your ear openings,sliding his instrument in and out, gliding in and out..this is the only time you will imagine what your woman imagines when you step down into her tube well..without the safety rope...
For the climax he ejects a few drops seminal like liquid to cool the overthumping temperatures within..
You are in a different world watching a Xrated film by the time he gets on to your next ear for the foreplay to another replay...
This is how I see the ear cleaning act...
If you see it differently I wont blame you.
To be a good photographer you need to be a poet too beyond seedy semantics.. Picture taking is wordless poetry.
Unlearing Photography.
The Rise and the Fall Of Man
thrown out from paradise
into a cage of human despair
he ran from where the story
of his pain began
the rise and the fall of man
Window Shopping
Two Muslim
women
watching
fashion
on the street
a window of
contentment
but incomplete
clothes
they might buy
for the next
Muslim feast
for their children
at least
Muslim Man In Pain
A Picture too is a Poem of Pain provided you read it without blinkers //
he is tired
of living
so long
he collapsed
on the ground
his spirit was willing
his flesh is no
more strong
muslim man in pain
a pain life long
yearning for
peace in a
comfortable grave
where he really belongs
away from sectarian strife
mullah politics of hate
against sufis shias sunnis
who collectively as Muslims
cant get-along
suicide bombers
arsonists murderers
destroyers
a misguided jehad
is not Peace and Brotherhood
you ask me
whats wrong?
vigil on the soul
of the unborn child
night long
I Wont Retire Never Never Never
This was shot a long time back on the pavements of Bhendi Bazar , this is the next pavement from where the other gemstone dealers sit , he is an old gemstone dealer he has two sons Mohomed and Irfan, both do good business on a stall next to his, both are comfortably well off , and the old man need not work at all, but he refuses to be made captive and sit at home , he told his sons he will earn his livelihood , so what he makes on the street sustains his self respect and dignity.
This is the beauty of Islam , the actual beauty of Islam, showing it by exemplary deeds , so I shoot Muslims like him who earn their livelihood by the sweat of the brows , instead of those with hand and feet , who take their wives and kids and beg outside hotels where Arabs stay.
The tourist Arab has actually corrupted the soul of India , most of them came here for cheap fucks , cheap disposable marriages in collusion with rogue mullahs and pimps..and bringing their sick relatives for medical care gave them the legitimacy to do all this on the side..
I stayed at Strand Cinema near Arthur Bunder Road which was a paradise and haven for these kind of Arabs , I remember Ideal Cafe Slip Disc.. and the sleazy by lanes of Radio Club , the lodges where all this happened..
The road behind Taj Mahal hotel near Baghdadi Hotel ..where mostly these Arabs hung out..
That is why I shoot blind Ismail Chacha contemporary of Haji Mastan , Ismail Chahca worked at the Mazgaon Docks joined the Indian Army and though completely blind dies social service at Bandra Bazar Road after his retirement.
His wife Hafiza Bi sells ladies garments on a hand cart near the Agha Khani Jamatkhana at Bandra Bazar Road .
Both have a daughter who lives at Manhattan New York, a grandson in UK.. but they wont retire either.
Hafiza Bi educated all her kids through the money she earned selling her wares on the hand cart , she is not willing to forget those days even now.
Zindagi Tere Nam Pe Rona Aya
raste pe banke
khilona aya
na tan pe kapda
na bichona aya
majme main rehkar
apne ap ko akela paya
kabhi main kabhi
mera saya
jab jab khabon main
mainne udna chahah
zamin par girke
phir na uth paya
Race of Life Never Stops
there is another
sentence
waiting to begin a
new life
after the full stop...
the race of life
never stops
even while racing
he falls tired
drops
the race
continues
in the backdrop
overriding
the mortality
of the corpse
mans humility
is humanity
reflected
in a few
teardrops
life after life
he swaps
These are pictures I shot hurriedly posted at my photo stream at Flickr a few years back , I am revisiting them for the first time and adding text to link them as a path from flickr to facebook and back..some I have poetized , some refused to be touched by the kiss of poetry..
Flowers Touch God More Humanly Than Man
round his neck
they flow
leaving
behind
their fragrance
that god adores
they will fade
in a few days or so
but they touched
god more humanly
than man
a fact man
does not know
man buys gods
blessings
with flowers
gold silver
money
through
his wealthy
pockets
he out pours
banging his head
on gods shut doors
searching for humanity
a cosmic poet
bloodshed and core
what for ?
dreams within dreams
no more
we are not human
mere plastic
pretentious
not like what
we were before
clipped wings
but to touch
gods feet
on the wings
of flowers
we soar
dedicated to maha kamel my facebook new friend
a dreamer of dreams
Jesus Safeguarding the House of Man
a job he has to
do part of his
cosmic responsibility
cosmic plan
jesus safeguards the
house of man
from being besieged
by the envy
hate of another man
the bigot the racist
anti human anti god
sometimes mad man
hellbent on destroying
the last vestiges of his
multi colored clan
Quiet Flows the Don
a river of remorse
humanly scorn
hesitating
to enter
mans world
the new born
scared
where his wings
to fly to higher
spaces of the mind
by narrow mindedness
intolerance
bigotry
by bias
will be torn
man
to destroy
man
to destroy
nature
to destroy
his surroundings
has sworn
we mourn
for the days
of peace brotherhood
hope harmony gone
on our foreheads
the pain
of our destiny
the pain of humanity
we adorn
On My Blindness
i would still be a photographer
shooting the darkness around me
i would not have to shoot
the darkness within me anymore
my world and your world
seen through
my eyes would be pitch black
with a bit of help
i would still cut my head
on ashura and chehlum
i might not
be able to browse
google chrome
google buzz
facebook
flickr
twitter
and the fucked websites
i have shat on one time or the other ..
i wont have to shoot hijras
the one person
i might be cut up not being able to see is Marziya Shakir
i can write a lot but my failing eye sight does not permit me till i really go blind..
this is an obituary on my diabetic blindness
The Missing Girl of Chor Bazar
These are scavenger urchins of Chor Bazar I shot this picture a very long time back, the girl at the extreme right reminded me of Preity Zinta , but all my following visits I never saw these girls nor the pretty one ever again.
This is the dark side of being born a girl child there is no escape from the vultures of society.. I was searching for this image hidden among over 7500 pictures of my flickr set on Street Photography am updating with text before linking to Facebook.
Our Lady of Vailankanni Chimbai Bandra
I shot this at Chimbai fishing village many years back...
Basilica of Our Lady of Good Health
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_Our_Lady_of_Good_Health
The Basilica of Our Lady of Good Health is located at the small town of Velankanni in the state of Tamil Nadu in southern India. The Roman Catholic Basilica is devoted to Our Lady of Good Health. Devotion to Our Lady of Good Health of Velankanni can be traced to the mid-16th century and is attributed to three miracles at different sites around where the Bacilica currently stands: the apparition of Mary and the Christ Child to a slumbering shepherd boy, the curing of a lame buttermilk vendor, and the rescue of Portuguese sailors from a violent sea storm.[1]
Although all three apparitions ultimately resulted in the erection of a shrine to our Lady, it was the promise of the Portuguese sailors that was the proximate cause of a permanent edifice being built at Velankanni. The chapel was dedicated on the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary (September 8), the day of their safe landing. More than 500 years later, the nine-day festival and celebration is still observed and draws nearly 2 million pilgrims each year. The Shrine of Our Lady of Vailankanni, also known as the "Lourdes of the East,"[2] is one of the most frequented religious sites in India.
Though there are no historical documents or records about the Apparitions of Mary at Vailankanni, the oral tradition substantiates the two apparitions of the Blessed Mother of Vailankanni in the 16th century and the saving of the Portuguese sailors from a tempest in the Bay of Bengal in the later 17th century.[3]
[edit] Apparitions
Main article: Our Lady of Good Health
The first of the apparitions in Vailankanni is claimed to be to a Hindu boy during the mid sixteenth century. It is said that Mary appeared to him and requested milk for her Son to which the boy readily agreed. Later, upon reaching the home of the customer the boy had intended to deliver the milk to, he apologized for his delay and the reduced amount of milk by relating the incident that occurred on his way. However, upon inspection of his order, the customer found the milk pot to be full and was convinced that something miraculous had happened. Together the man, also a Hindu, and the boy returned to the place where the apparition had occurred. When they reached the pond, Our Lady appeared once again. On learning that it was Our Lady who appeared to the boy, the residents of the local Catholic community became ecstatic and promptly renamed the pond Matha Kulam or, Our Lady's Pond.[4]
The construction of a chapel or church is attributed to the second apparition, not the first. This time, it is said, Mary appeared to a crippled boy (and also a son of a widow) in a place called Nadu Thittu. The boy is claimed to have offered her buttermilk and then be cured of his illness. The Catholics in the nearby town of Nagapattinam are said to have built the first shrine after being informed of the incident. [5]
[edit] Portuguese sailors
In the 17th century, a Portuguese merchant vessel, sailing from Macau in China to Colombo was caught in a tempest in the Bay of Bengal. The sailors, then at the point of desolation, vowed to build a chapel in the name of the Virgin Mary wherever they could reach safety. The legends claim that the stormy sea became quiet and their ship reached the shore of Vailankanni on 8 September, the birthday of Mary. Fulfilling their vow, the Portuguese sailors put up a chapel at Vailankanni by transforming the earlier thatched chapel. On their next visit, the Portuguese decorated the altar with porcelain plates illustrating Biblical themes. [3]
[edit] From shrine to basilica
The shrine that started as a thatched chapel in the mid sixteenth century became a parish church in 1771 when Catholics in India were under persecution from the Dutch. Later in 1962 it was granted a Special status of a Minor Basilica by Pope John XXIII.[6]
Pilgrims to the basilica are common during September, around the time of the feast. Then, millions from all over India and abroad come to join in prayers. The feast day prayers are said in Tamil, Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, Konkani, Hindi and English.[13] The pilgrims include people of many faith backgrounds, especially including Hindus as well as Christians. The centuries of pilgrimages and devotion by Hindus have had a profound influence on Marian devotion in Velankanni.She is sometimes prayed and said to be the Meenakshi and Kamakshi of Vailankanni. According to Goan and konkan coast Hindus she is called Shantadurga (most compassionate one).[14] This especially includes use of kotimaram, which has been described as an extended influence of Hinduism on Catholicism. This has made the Basilica a meeting point of two of the major religions of the world.[15] It is said that the portrayal of Virgin Mary as a curer of illness and a victor over all demonic forces is seen by local Hindus as an attribute equivalent of Hindu Goddess Mariamman.[16] Such pilgrims are also common during Christmas.[17]
The town of Velakanni was affected by the tsunami on Boxing day of 2004 causing heavy loss of life but no damage to the Church.[18] Aftermath of the tsunami found slowing down of pilgrims for a year.[19]
Jesus Christ Nabbed in Mumbai
he is faraway from home
in the land of brahma vishnu
mahdev and om
a prisoner
of circumstances
he roams
on good friday
14 stations of the cross
reenacting a
passion play
a spiritual syndrome
shot by a Muslim blogger
bought to you
by Google chrome
Dialogue with Ganesha
old lady: lord i am fed up of life there is nothing to live for husband died kids have thrown me out on the streets - please call me back this is my one and only wish.. i ask of you ..
lord ganesha:good lady if i call you back, who will look after me , you come here each morning bathe me in milk give me my favorite sweets ..dont worry your good days will surely come , while we are talking the barefeet Shia blogger is taking our picture ..embedding us both in peoples heart as Hope and Hindutva a message of Universal Peace..
Jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh deva
Mata jaki Parvati, pita Mahadeva.
Ek dant dayavant, char bhuja dhari
Mathe par tilak sohe, muse ki savari
Pan chadhe, phul chadhe, aur chadhe meva
Ladduan ka bhog lage, sant kare seva.
Jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh deva,
Mata jaki Parvati, pita Mahadeva...
Andhan ko ankh det, kodhin ko kaya
Banjhan ko putra det, nirdhan ko maya
Surya shaam sharan aye, safal kije seva.
Jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh, jai Ganesh deva,
Mata jaki Parvati, Pita Mahadeva.
Discovering Yoga at Carter Road
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoga
Yoga (Sanskrit, Pāli: योग yóga) refers to traditional physical and mental disciplines originating in India.[1] The word is associated with meditative practices in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.[2][3][4] In Hinduism, it also refers to one of the six orthodox (āstika) schools of Hindu philosophy, and to the goal toward which that school directs its practices.[5][6] In Jainism it refers to the sum total of all activities—mental, verbal and physical.
Major branches of yoga in Hindu philosophy include Raja Yoga, Karma Yoga, Jnana Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, and Hatha Yoga.[7][8][9] Raja Yoga, compiled in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, and known simply as yoga in the context of Hindu philosophy, is part of the Samkhya tradition.[10] Many other Hindu texts discuss aspects of yoga, including Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, the Shiva Samhita and various Tantras.
The Sanskrit word yoga has many meanings,[11] and is derived from the Sanskrit root "yuj", meaning "to control", "to yoke" or "to unite."[12] Translations include "joining", "uniting", "union", "conjunction", and "means".[13][14][15] An alternate root from which the word yoga may be derived is "yujir samadhau", which means "contemplation" or "absorption."[16] This translation fits better with the dualist Raja Yoga because it is through contemplation that discrimination between prakrti (nature) and purusha (pure consciousness) occurs. Outside India, the term yoga is typically associated with Hatha Yoga and its asanas (postures) or as a form of exercise. Someone who practices yoga or follows the yoga philosophy is called a yogi or yogini.[17]
Main article: History of yoga
The Vedic Samhitas contain references to ascetics, while ascetic practices (tapas) are referenced in the Brāhmaṇas (900 to 500 BCE), early commentaries on the Vedas.[18] Several seals discovered at Indus Valley Civilization (c. 3300–1700 B.C.E.) sites in Pakistan depict figures in positions resembling a common yoga or meditation pose, showing "a form of ritual discipline, suggesting a precursor of yoga", according to archaeologist Gregory Possehl.[19] Some type of connection between the Indus Valley seals and later yoga and meditation practices is speculated upon by many scholars, though there is no conclusive evidence.[20]
Techniques for experiencing higher states of consciousness in meditation were developed by the shramanic traditions and in the Upanishadic tradition.[21]
While there is no clear evidence for meditation in pre-Buddhist early Brahminic texts, Wynne argues that formless meditation originated in the Brahminic tradition, based on strong parallels between Upanishadic cosmological statements and the meditative goals of the two teachers of the Buddha as recorded in the early Buddhist texts.[22] He mentions less likely possibilities as well.[23] Having argued that the cosmological statements in the Upanishads also reflect a contemplative tradition, he argues that the Nasadiya Sukta contains evidence for a contemplative tradition, even as early as the late Rg Vedic period.[22]
The Buddhist texts are probably the earliest texts describing meditation techniques.[24] They describe meditative practices and states which had existed before the Buddha as well as those which were first developed within Buddhism.[25] In Hindu literature, the term "yoga" first occurs in the Katha Upanishad, where it refers to control of the senses and the cessation of mental activity leading to a supreme state.[26] Important textual sources for the evolving concept of Yoga are the middle Upanishads, (ca. 400 BCE), the Mahabharata including the Bhagavad Gita (ca. 200 BCE), and the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (150 BCE).
[edit] Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Main articles: Raja Yoga and Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
In Indian philosophy, Yoga is the name of one of the six orthodox philosophical schools.[27][28] The Yoga philosophical system is closely allied with the Samkhya school.[29] The Yoga school as expounded by the sage Patanjali accepts the Samkhya psychology and metaphysics, but is more theistic than the Samkhya, as evidenced by the addition of a divine entity to the Samkhya's twenty-five elements of reality.[30][31] The parallels between Yoga and Samkhya were so close that Max Müller says that "the two philosophies were in popular parlance distinguished from each other as Samkhya with and Samkhya without a Lord...."[32] The intimate relationship between Samkhya and Yoga is explained by Heinrich Zimmer:
These two are regarded in India as twins, the two aspects of a single discipline. Sāṅkhya provides a basic theoretical exposition of human nature, enumerating and defining its elements, analyzing their manner of co-operation in a state of bondage (bandha), and describing their state of disentanglement or separation in release (mokṣa), while Yoga treats specifically of the dynamics of the process for the disentanglement, and outlines practical techniques for the gaining of release, or 'isolation-integration' (kaivalya).[33]
Patanjali is widely regarded as the founder of the formal Yoga philosophy.[34] Patanjali's yoga is known as Raja yoga, which is a system for control of the mind.[35] Patanjali defines the word "yoga" in his second sutra,[36] which is the definitional sutra for his entire work:
योग: चित्त-वृत्ति निरोध:
( yogaś citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ )
- Yoga Sutras 1.2
This terse definition hinges on the meaning of three Sanskrit terms. I. K. Taimni translates it as "Yoga is the inhibition (nirodhaḥ) of the modifications (vṛtti) of the mind (citta)".[37] The use of the word nirodhaḥ in the opening definition of yoga is an example of the important role that Buddhist technical terminology and concepts play in the Yoga Sutra; this role suggests that Patanjali was aware of Buddhist ideas and wove them into his system.[38] Swami Vivekananda translates the sutra as "Yoga is restraining the mind-stuff (Citta) from taking various forms (Vrittis)."[39]
Patanjali's writing also became the basis for a system referred to as "Ashtanga Yoga" ("Eight-Limbed Yoga"). This eight-limbed concept derived from the 29th Sutra of the 2nd book, and is a core characteristic of practically every Raja yoga variation taught today. The Eight Limbs are:
1. Yama (The five "abstentions"): non-violence, non-lying, non-covetousness, non-sensuality, and non-possessiveness.
2. Niyama (The five "observances"): purity, contentment, austerity, study, and surrender to god.
3. Asana: Literally means "seat", and in Patanjali's Sutras refers to the seated position used for meditation.
4. Pranayama ("Suspending Breath"): Prāna, breath, "āyāma", to restrain or stop. Also interpreted as control of the life force.
5. Pratyahara ("Abstraction"): Withdrawal of the sense organs from external objects.
6. Dharana ("Concentration"): Fixing the attention on a single object.
7. Dhyana ("Meditation"): Intense contemplation of the nature of the object of meditation.
8. Samādhi ("Liberation"): merging consciousness with the object of meditation.
In the view of this school, the highest attainment does not reveal the experienced diversity of the world to be illusion. The everyday world is real. Furthermore, the highest attainment is the event of one of many individual selves discovering itself; there is no single universal self shared by all persons.[40]
[edit] Bhagavad Gita
Main article: Bhagavad Gita
The Bhagavad Gita ('Song of the Lord'), uses the term yoga extensively in a variety of ways. In addition to an entire chapter (ch. 6) dedicated to traditional yoga practice, including meditation,[41] it introduces three prominent types of yoga:[42]
* Karma yoga: The yoga of action,
* Bhakti yoga: The yoga of devotion,
* Gnana yoga: The yoga of knowledge.
Madhusudana Sarasvati (b. circa 1490) divided the Gita into three sections, with the first six chapters dealing with Karma yoga, the middle six with Bhakti yoga, and the last six with Jnana (knowledge).[43] Other commentators ascribe a different 'yoga' to each chapter, delineating eighteen different yogas.[44]
[edit] Hatha Yoga
Main articles: Hatha yoga and Hatha Yoga Pradipika
Hatha Yoga is a particular system of Yoga described by Yogi Swatmarama, compiler of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika in 15th century India. Hatha Yoga differs substantially from the Raja Yoga of Patanjali in that it focuses on shatkarma, the purification of the physical body as leading to the purification of the mind (ha), and prana, or vital energy (tha).[45][46] Compared to the seated asana, or sitting meditation posture, of Patanjali's Raja yoga,[47] it marks the development of asanas (plural) into the full body 'postures' now in popular usage [48] and, its many modern variations, is the style that many people associate with the word "Yoga" today.[49]
Framed For The Sins Of Man
jesus was framed
by a corrupt system
he tried to cleanse
of its shame
is not judas
or the jews
but the nature
of man
that is to blame
one man kills
entire mankind
is defamed
I Am A Pauper My Pictures My Poems I Dont Sell
I Am A Pauper My Pictures My Poems I Dont Sell, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
121,889 items / 831,718 views
photo courtesy
jean marc gargantiel
jmgargantiel.zenfolio.com/p132891686
I am a severe diabetic
incorrigible romantic
I play by ear and smell
I get tired out physically
poetically I am far too well
As a tailor I stitch clothes
my profession my death knell
I gave credit I got fucked
my life in a nutshell
but yes though
I am a princely pauper
dressed like one
My pictures my Poems
I dont sell
I wont be publishing
a Hijra Coffee Table Book
or write a poetry book
or a novel
om mani padme hoon
when I die
I will surely be missed
by my best friend
from Buzznet Benn Bell
there are others too
I can tell
who would be happy
to see my Shia Soul
burning in a Wahabbi Hell
no more uploading pictures
at flickr
no more crossblogging
to blogspoot wordpress
google buzz as well
no more facebook friends
not even the woman
I love who in another
mans heart dwells
although
I have deleted her
from my fucked
consciousness
she can bring me
back from my
unmarked grave
with her magic spell
You Telecom
My Internet Service Provider
will miss me too
a cause searching for a rebel
I bid them all farewell
My Obituary in Oxymoron Hurry and Haste
Searching For Her In The Wilderness of My Mind
Searching For Her In The Wilderness of My Mind, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
121,889 items / 831,718 views
photo courtesy
jean marc gargantiel
jmgargantiel.zenfolio.com/p132891686
Me : Jean Marc your pictures are so good that I get a mental block writing poems on them..such is the power of the poetry of your pictures ..
Jean Marc: Let your mind free itself and don't be blocked by my images, Firoze. The power of your mind is as strong as the one of the images, don't worry and be sure about it! :)
my poem
she
an ethereal spirit
of my poetry
a woman
one of a kind
i met her
by chance
on a mountain top
in the wilderness
of my mind
i was in love
with her
i was love blind
she was the one
the holy saint
had destined
my worming spirit
to her
squirming soul
entwined
night after night
i pined
but at daybreak
my bed she fled
strands of her hair
she left behind
her sweaty musky smell
pervaded my angst
but her physicality
i could not find
my pain
my anguish
unseen on a wall
of despair
unwind
fires
of her fury
her passion
my pangs
a moment
within a moment
remind
The Camera Never Lies
photo courtesy
jean marc gargantiel
jmgargantiel.zenfolio.com/p132891686
the soul
of your subject
unhidden
in his eyes
the camera
never lies
illustrating
the duplicity
otherwise
of what you are
of what you are not
the lens eyes
implies
whether you
look straight
or slantwise
prismatic
fact applies
your angst
your pain
you cant
disguise
with love
of a reunion
amchi mumbai
a photographer
may die
but his image
for posterity
will outlive
his demise
to a creative master el gekko
Shake Well Before Use
man
a bottle of despair
bottled sexuality
by which
he swears
shake well
before use
if it breaks
you cant repair
you cant borrow
your neighbors
or get one
he will spare
a hornets nest
camouflaged by
unwanted hair
a swollen
tumescent
tragedy
held by a pair
down there
has committed
more sins
in a woman's lair
a one eyed
monster
beware
has been
loved worshiped
insulted
humiliated hated
hanging
his head in shame
has always
been there
without
his contribution
you would have
not been born
to be fair
it was this
a cosmic affair
a little bit of spice
in your mothers
prayer
two minutes
pleasure
9 months agony
she had to bare
Cosmic Poet Enwombed
a wasted
heirloom
his lingam
of life
forever fucked
despair and gloom
he caught his
woman
red handed
making love
to another
woman
in the
ladies
washroom
perilous love
in doom
she preferred
a tremulous
wet cloth
instead
of his broom
a cosmic poet
enwombed
in a winding
sheet
of misfortune
forever
entombed
devoid his karmic jewelry
devoid his krazy costume
although
he had deleted her
from his fucked
consciousness
he still remembers
her sweaty musky
perfume those
entwined moments
once again
he would willingly
love to resume
memories
of teaching her
photography
with his
point and
shoot camera
the wet moist
prints of passion
processed developed
in her red lit dark room
a decisive moment
a leaking condom
poems abloom
jhoom barabar jhoom
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