Sunday, May 2, 2010

Hijdon Ke Alawa Kuch Log Bhi Hijde Hote Hain

jinki wajah se ham rote hain
woh hamari lete hain
aur hum chup chap sote hain
kuch hijde kisi bhi libas
main hote hain
desh main batware
ki beejh bote hain
yeh zaroori nahi
ke sirf hijde hi
hijde hote hain

A Friendship Comes To An End

This was a picture of a Hijra I shot in Ajmer last year and has nothing to do with my poem..

This is a poem of pain ridiculing the the romantic nature of my being..

First she added me as her friend
than she wanted me to be her lover
the cosmic friendship came to an end
her prose and my poetry would not blend
more than my multicolored ass
my grovelling flesh my knees
i was willing to bend but alas
it was my soul i could not defend
making rigorous love with
the erogenous click of a mouse
many a times it did cause a dent
i dont know who was fucking her
at the other end though she
accused me of making
her pregnant mind you
she was a transvestite
a fact she hid from me
with malicious intent
so sometimes
you like the form
you get fucked by content
alas the nightly hot chat
the times we spent
her mouth orgiastic cavernous
filled with poetic semen
as it flowed to torment
but all good things
cant last forever
the end of a romantic
event a final break
could not prevent
memories past and present
humbled and humiliated
i do relent fucked
by fate from asshole
to eternity 10O percent
my barefeet solidified
in cement drowning my sorrow
i lament

Facebook friends
only if you feel my pain
than comment silence
is the best medicine
to recommend she is
6 months pregnant
has locked herself
in a convent
miracles happen
this episode a figment
of a cybernetic mind
i did not not invent
i miss her lingerie
her musky scent
across the border
lies a part of me
a tiny fragment
aman ki asha
peace to her
as a message
i sent

The Light of God in the Slums


Lobanwala, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

Understanding Pain on the Streets

Understanding Pain on the Streets

The New Don is in Love

She had saved his life during the heavy rains she had carried him to safety from the deluge and her heartbeats and the musky smell of her body got the better of the new don ..he was madly in love with her , though he has not told her yet..

The fuck up is she already married to a guy who sells limbu mirchis on the road..

The Dabbawala on Maharashtra Day

The Transvestites Tale

a biological male
he got married
the marriage failed
dejected doomed
the transvestites tale
womanly desires
to her soul proclamied
breaching the gender
walls of her birth
into a beautiful female
drawing inspiration
from life she hid behind a veil
her mind the dark side
of the moon her body
jailed love for
lingerie her
new thumbnail
searching seeking
for a prince charming
her fate bewailed
the poetry of her life
minus detail
a gnawing pain
in her loins
her lust prevailed
a unique
fish scale
she chatted
she batted
Medusa hair
a poet
she nailed
her mouth wet
ooh aah aah
she exclaimed
on his
she put
all the blame
her soul inflamed
love is such a power
you need not
be ashamed
a hurricane blowing
her destiny a fairy angel
wild erogenous

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

a disclaimer
at her soul aimed

a picture within a poem
artistically framed

Kids and the Polio Drops

Marziya Shakir Does a Glenn Losack

Marziya is my two year old grand daughter a humble child prodigy, she has talent she is smart and she hates being pushed .She is a crazy kick boxer too when she is mad with the world around her.

In short she is street savvy , though she gets scared of cockroaches is a secret between her and me.

Of late I don take her out because of the killing heat and humidity of Mumbai it is bad as bad can be..I shower thrice a day and change my clothes twice a day , my work clothes.

Marziya has attitude and is very opinionated like her god father Dr Glenn Losack.., they both would hit it off I am certainly sure of that..

She likes doing Matam , she thinks she is a boy she strips to her waist and her favorite Matam noha is Ran Main Hai Nala Kuna by Ali Rizvi Saab son of late Sacchey Bhai..

She knows the Busheri matam too..and the kama matam runs in her blood she keeps hitting her head with the foot ruler..

She is a polished photographer, she can shoot pictures comfortably..even when she chops off my head she does it neatly.

But she is moody and most of the time does not like being photographed and complains to my wife when I overdo it...

And her mother gets a bit upset when I tell her that once in her lifetime maybe the next Moharam I will let her taste the flagellating blades on her back..though girls are not into blood and gore but they do kama matam in Hyderabad during Ashura..

Marziya likes Jesus that she sees hung on the Cross almost everywhere at Bandra , her favorite is Lord Ganesha the elephant god , and she likes the mouse with him ..

But yes Marziya understands pain on the streets , the sufferings of the poor Muslim beggar ladies , she knows and understands I can make out by her expressions .

So Marziya has taught me much more than I have taught her , she likes to play cricket and read write..and draw.

Her grand mother made her a hijab that she wears like a second skin , I will post the pictures after I finish this huge lot I have posted at Flickr and am adding description and text.

And Glenn sent me a message for this picture..

terrific stuff
i should go to bed

miss you alot