the plot got thicker and thicker a unforgiving unrepentant morbid moment of memories galore a lost link cant click her was it me or a dreamy moment why the fuck did i pick her i wonder i gloom i bicker a poet barefeet a beggar in tattered knickers sometimes not blood but a karmic chaos the ultimate kicker as her ego her conceit gets bigger and bigger luckily it was not me wanting to trick her for a ticket into her world a green card a thought that makes her sicker wet hopes drenched to the bone shivering grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr in a basket of wicker
reminding me of lifes mysteries choked on a river bend she came touched me invoked me and went my most memorable barefeet walk during lent by good friday everything crashed my life lost its meaning its content i lost hope i lost a friend my story came to an abrupt end
far away from my deleted dreams an olive branch i extend
Narrottamdas My Very Dear Old Friend, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. Where do I begin, I have known Narrottamdas since his ISKON days , and we lost touch for a few years till I accidentally met him shooting the Marriammen Feast at Juhu beach, we hugged each other and Narrottamdas loves India which is his karmic home.
We had no time to talk or catch up on things we were both involved with shooting the elusive moment of life and mystery on Juhu Beach..
Thanks ...its first time in my life someone is writing poems on me ..I feel good ..
i dont believe you your heart made of stone your soul made of wood you dont forgive vicious no good if you were human you would forgive you should your emotions all plywood you have never loved pretentious hardwood
a beggar poet his integrity his honesty his intentions that he considers you his muse you misunderstood not your fault your unrepentant regressive girlhood touch on wood you are a victim of delusions falsehood burning the free spirit of a poet with matchstick firewood
"Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare"
a maha mantra they chant as the rays of the surya god touches their soul their inner spirit on the soul of humanity a message of peace hope and humanity they plant to the beat of the drums krsna consciousness enchant from the soul of divinity on the paper soul of man they transplant blessings that bhrama vishnu shiva from the cosmic fires of hope grant
her pain is greater than the woman she emulates a martyred womb a clitoral catastrophe a testicuular tragedy on her plate woman incomplete but womanly traits coyness sensual desirous androgynous her fucked fate even god godly amighty hesitated to create so to be born from the fucked rib of man the hijra had to wait entry only through a back gate rectal rhapsody melodiously mutates gyrates a cosmic dance of death mutilate castrate homophobic hate society considers them ugly untouchable but men love fucking hijras on the soul of this poem originates mans thirst for the forbidden fruit of the gods the hira in satiates
hijras celebrate womans days with tears on the soul of humanity as the metrosexual woman seductive ornate
dedicated to my hijra guru laxmi narayan tripathi as a facebook update
ap khush kismet hain kam se kam ap to gehri neen lekar so jati hain waqt ane par apnon ko bhul jati hain ap mom se pathar bankar ham garibon ko faisla sunati hain ajab dastan hai yeh zindagi ap doshale main chipkar khuda ban jati hain
her voice on the phone she me time distance all alone i had said to myself i am hooked flesh sinew bone her throaty laughter in muted tone but than came a long distance pause from human she turned to a goddess in stone
my pleas my pain out of the window of her heart into the dustbin she has thrown
in a few days she had become wiser flushed cheekbones her ego bloated over blown
a beggar poet cursing the seeds he had sown into wretched weeds they had grown out on the streets on his own lost in her memories deleted dreams unknown zone
yes from the gilded cage of my poetry my bul bul has flown
Sarla The Forgetful Hijra At Juhu Beach, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1. She had given me her number I called her up , but she did not remember me , I dont blame her somebody had spiked her drink on the beach and she was in a bad shape , she had asked me to get her a ricksha and in the meantime her friends had come and taken her away, on the night of the Marriammen rituals..so this is hijda memory lost on the sands of time..
today i was reading sad thoughts from the past lost thoughts that she had cast over my minds landscape deep and vast thoughts that made me aghast from the reservoir of pain a damning blast thoughts that in the in box of my deleted dreams i had amassed but than a poet figurative on a chord of her sensitive nerve i had trespassed she seemed tired weary harassed cheated once upon a time by light shade and contrast to her pain she holds on steadfast tears on the soul of my poetry of pain a beggar poet outcast as i fade in fade out zoom in zoom out fast