123,084 items / 845,225 views
am i a poet
or merely
a juggler
of words
i dont know
a head full
of squiggly
worms
that flow
out
from the
earthen pot
of my mind
as they grow
i see pain
only pain
wherever
i go
pain
the essence
of street survival
as prints
on your mind
i blowup
to show
pain you too
have seen
but not
noticed or felt
ever before
destiny
of a beggar child
banging his head
against a deaf door
a dismal future
or whatever
is in store
a somnolent
society
peacefully
snores
life a commodity
that makes
little girls
into painted
whores
as they walk
this planet all
on fours
slave driven by
libidinous man
who kills and gores
blood flowing
on the floor
yet another
hymen tore
to gail orenstein
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Am I A Poet !
Suraj The Shopkeeper
123,083 items / 845,145 views
after
he comes back from school
at his uncles shop he stands
working away his blues
life in the slums
he understands
to the kids who
buy sweets from him
right change he hands
he does not cheat
he does not give credit
he is in great demand
learning his way
through life
suraj
the shop keeper
in command
The Birth of a Teacher
123,082 items / 845,121 views
I walk through the slums to reach my workplace , I interact with a few kids , Suraj after schools sits and runs his uncles provision store ..he uncles kids study outside , they hardly play with the kids around them.
I asked a few of the what they would want to be , maybe their replies I cannot give you exactly but I give you the gist..I took the names of a few people and got their response..
I asked them if they wanted be Madam Sonia Gandhi.. they collectively said no.. I asked them why they said they did not have her stature..
I asked them if they wanted to be Rahul Gandhi they all said yes..I asked them why..the replied they were fed up of seeing the nation run by fools old men and sycophants..the last word was colloquially abusive so I have not used it here..
But the kid in the picture looked up at me and said Uncle if everyone becomes a neta politician , a film star, a cricketer , tennis player who will teach the nation I have decided I will become a teacher when I grow up , my poem is my tribute to him and all the teachers of the world.
he has dreams
he has hopes
a destination
he wants to reach
yes when
he becomes
a bit older
the slum kids
he would like
to teach
i asked him
if he wanted
to be a politician
or a priest
he replied
looking
directly
into my eyes
no sir
i do not
want to preach
or the soul
of humanity
breach
to make me
worthy
of this
gift of life
to the almighty
to make me a
teacher
i beseech
i am
but a pebble
washed away
on the beach
Some Things You Are Born With Some Things You Inherit
Some Things You Are Born With Some Things You Inherit, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
123,081 items / 844,836 views
some things you
are born with
some things
you inherit
some things
are part of
your soul
your spirit
a light
of godliness
you always emit
your knowledge
your wisdom
a gift of learning
to others
you transmit
to a greater goal
of humanity
your inner being
you submit
Marziya is has always loved to write to draw to paint and to shoot pictures on my Nikon D80 rest I shall leave unsaid.. yes she has picked this style of studying from the slum kids ..
Man Can Do Without Food But Not Without Internet
Man Can Do Without Food But Not Without Internet, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.
now you will only
believe in this axiom
if you have fallen
in love on the cyber net
remember through
a single comment
we met
she held me
i held her
the computer
screen got wet
me and my ink jet
luckily
my internet connection
is in my blue toilet
my coiled up sensuality
seeking an outlet
my family jewels
my fragmented genius
my only inherited asset
i will always be in her debt
a decisive moment
of an erection
hard to get
her muskiness
her body sweat
she did get pregnant
it was not me
the cable technician
who worked on her
when his pen drive
got stuck
in her fishnet
the only thought
in this sordid
episode
i regret
that
i am not the father
of a little child
called coquette
Digging a Bloggers Grave
at bandra bazar road
in a unmarked grave
the bloggers body
they will push in
his blotchy
fucked up skin
although
she had deleted him
from her fucked
consciousness
she will remember
how he managed
get out
of her recycling bin
circumcised
dickhead
a poet
a bumpkin
with a guy
more heavenly
endowed
she did
trade in
her loving
sir lancelot
who caught
the aids
as he had
pushed too far
in her bleeding napkin
he too lies buried
near the blogger
the blogger
with a big fat
poetic grin
sometimes
you lose
sometimes
you just cant win
with or without
foreskin
Bharat Desh Mahan
bharat desh mahan
phir kyon lete ho
bhaiyya ki jan
kam se kam
ek jehadi
aur ek bhaiiya
main kuch toh
karo pehchan
bharatwasi hai wo
tumhari seva karta hai
uka balidan
uska aur tumhara
hai ek hi khandaan
kan kan main bhagwan '
bhagwan ke hirdye main
phasa hua insan
kabhi kabhi
insan ke hirdye
se jag utha
shaitan
mother india
ke hum sab bacche
'baki sab mehman
The Girl Child in the Slums
living
on the mound of a dump
the girl child in the slums
a season of pain
no winter or autumn
to her fate
she will succumb
married early
no problem
a couple of kids
she will be an
old woman
with a hump
this picture
will be part
of my photo
album
i pray for her
being a father
of a girl child too
that she lives
happily
when her
time comes
hope and love
the outcome
The Slum Seller of Khatta Meetha
I have to pass him to go to work , he sits near the transit chawl, close to Indraji Nagar slums at Bandra.
Kids surround him , for the stuff he sells.
I buy avlas and raw kairi from him..
He has all kinds of boras , his colored red kairi in vinegar is a hit with the kids..
This is stuff that takes you back to your school days..
I love shooting him..I have never asked his name ..
He has never asked me why I shoot him , but in all humility I am a famous face in this area because of my grand daughter 2 year old Marziya Shakir most of her fans are in the slum..but they keep a distance from her she hates anyone touching her and is good with her fists and legs..
No Love No Water In The Tap
we are thirsty
for knowledge
no love
no water
in the tap
61 years
of freedom
on the face
of democracy
a tight slap
sounds of silence
one hand clap
from the
sewer of a womb
fall into another
death trap
every night
a new hope
in an old dream
unwrap
Searching For Heaven Beneath a Childs Feet
hamare pairon tale
hai jannat gutter jaisi
zindagi hamari hai aisi
5 sal ke bad ghode par
sawar wo ayenge
aur vote mangte waqt
nahi poochenge hai kaisi
democracy ke nam
ki kar di aise ki taisi
The Little Bird In A Cage
both
prisoners
of circumstances
in every age
the little girl with
clipped wings
the little bird
in a cage
their lives
time will outrage
blindfolded
on rampage
the only saving
consolation
at one stage
the little bird
wont have to
give dowry
or dahez
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