in a rusty cage of life he breeds scattering his wanton seed wherever there is pestilence pain destruction he leads his lifes story you can lip read a killing reed his gluttony his wants his needs a part of his facebook feeds he writes more than he reads although he has deleted her from his fucked consciousness her memories makes him bleed an ethereal form human bodied quirk of fate his best friend she married a baby with a cosmic face lovingly breast feeds Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. that the baby looks like me please dont misread .. hard work through the mounds caverns of her anatomy i has painstakingly journeyed
I sent a message to Teresa Burke my very dear friend whom I call Super Mom , she has two kids Roman and Chloe, she is a mother who deserves all our respect and a terrific photographer too.
I sent her a message at about 3 am yesterday..regrading Marziya and her new illness that has us all stressed and confused.
My Message sent through Facebook
Its been 4 days Marziya is ok through out the day, but every night from 12 midnight till 3 am she is is in pain , and cries non stop, my daughter in law was treating her with hompepathic medicine today is the fourth day of agony for us.
She has a cold in the daytime so perhaps her ear and nose must be getting clogged ,so the doctor gave nasal drops but still no relief
I got a reply this morning from her hmmmmmmmmmmm....
how long has she been sick? does she have a fever? does she pull or tug on her ears? is she teething? is it a stomach flu?
your pockets generosity your human kindness in the name of Allah we beseech we beg from those who preach a fatwa to change our lives our home has not yet reached we are commas semi colons to your halting speech
drunken doomed dilemma fucked flustered flaw re witting remorse raw drowning holding on to a straw to get back into her life shut doors he tries to claw although she has deleted him from her fucked consciousness thrown him like a counterfeit coin out of her bra on the mound of her venus ' lives a new outlaw a cosmic poet run over by a rickshah
behind a curtain of darkness his world of pain from me he hides a plastic bowl in hand he stands aside the day he was born his god died outside the bandra jain mandir way side chinese marbles glass eyed what i as a poet felt outside he felt inside destiny had taken him for a free ride on your computer screen with his inner eyes he watches you surprised Allah sees will provide
from one gutter of life into another gutter they came their parents relatives work in the drain holes bruised and maimed they too will inherit the gutter their heritage claim dignity of labor work without shame the writing on the wall behind them neither their target or their aim they dont even know how to write their name India is shining a fucked system to blame
hash words of a street poet who feels and shoots pain the poor beggar muslim woman to her karma enchained her life will never change a beggar a beggar she will remain a few coins thrown at her adversity is all she will gain to rehabilitate her is not a jehad why complain her emancipation from misery a tear stain ill treated condemned thrown out on the roads a poetic thought down the drain macho Muslim society mullahcentric looks at her with disdain
renouncing riches wealth a life of comfort to help others heal others who are broken wounded and hurt the jain sadhvi her piety on the soul of humanity asserts barefeet with her sole kissing mother earth humility mans only true worth her life her death a new birth
Randy Der commented on your photo:
" you have grown so much in the past year Firoze these recent creations are turely remarkable."
These are Tanduri Chicken Tikka kababs , I get to taste free as I pass by through the slums of Indraji Nagar Bandra to my workplace.
The caterer whom I call Slum Dog caterer is Iqbal Bhai, his clientele is the rich , the affluent and his food is delicious, last week we had shami kebabs from him , for a small family function we have ordered Tanduri Chicken Tikka kababs , this morning he gave me Russian chicken kebabs about half a dozen free , as he likes me , and is very fond of Marziya my two year old grand daughter.
He charges me the same rates he charges others , but I dont mind I like his stuff.
His mutton Biryani is exquisite , I tasted it once, though for the feast at home we ordered Chicken Biryani a few days back.
He makes celery soup and Chinese stuff too..
There are a lot of slum caterers in Bandra West , I have tried most of them but nothing to beat the magic of Iqbal Bh…
old wizened scorched soul of his destiny upheavals in his life far too many man the banyan tree aging gracefully branches of his progeny plenty he will soon be gone eventually another banyan tree will take his place the tree of humanity the cycle of life life's only reality intertwined roots clinging to each other the human soil of fertility words embedded as wisdom archived as sanity humility overriding the soul of a whore called vanity