Monday, May 9, 2011

The Iranian Mosque Where God Lives

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Iranian mosque
moghul masjid
is where god lives
he touches you
what you dont ask
through his grace
his bounty he gives
he needs no motive
the sins of your
forefather through
your prayers your
piety he forgives
in his grace
in his love
he holds
you captive
of every
on the soul
of your children
he stamps
he relives
after your
the soul
of human

To Mansoor Showghi Yezdi for keeping the Indo Iranian amity alive in a cup of chai ..holding the soul of Peace Hope Harmony in Amchi Mumbai

I Had A Dream

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I had a dream
it seems
i was taken in
a face with a
pretentious gleam
though calling
me sir was
her way
of holding me
in high esteem
why this
the soul
of my
with falsity
at its extreme
as i feel
i was taken
in by a friend
her alter ego
off steam
for his faults
of omission
my poetry
of accidental
age does
not matter
from the
of the mind
a poetic

Jeff Lamb Is Still Alive

image kind courtesy

is nothing but a
vanishing act
almost like
your account
on facebook
with good reason
some tact but you
are alive you feel
you see
a godly fact
the only thing
you smile
you dont re-act
between you
god the maker
a friendly pact
to be exact
in the hearts
of mortals
who love you
you are eternal
you are intact

i am crying as this noble soul touched me my grand daughter marziya shakir the most.. i am sure he touched you all too..

Love Is Nothing But A Con

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before you wake up
from a deleted dream
your world is gone
first you were a poet
as a dickhead you
are metamorphosed
reborn pain as porn
the dusky dewy dawn
anguish lets out a yawn
stoic wooden and withdrawn

An imaginary figment of a beggar poets broken dreams and poetry of pain.. written on the tombstone of dead friendship..

without a muse poetry would be dead...with tears we keep the pain alive...even when she along with her consort uses the butchers knife...what has age got to do with poetic love...or human strife..

Thanks ...its first time in my life someone is writing poems on me ..I feel good ..

words embarked on
a soul of wood
feeling goody goody good

Strange Are The Ways of The Net

184,807 items / 1,453,365 views

if you dont know swimming
if you go int the deep end of the pool
you drown you dont merely get wet
welcome to one sided faceless
love on the internet what you
give is not what you get
i think i was safer making
poems on the seat of my toilet
but i got flushed down into a vacuous
hole chaos crisp cunning of the cyber net
but wisdom i did gain painfully though
those sleepless nights the clicking
on the keyboard the ongoing chat
surfing sorrow you can bet now
where do i begin where do i stop
like me too have been there
you know the rest... my failure
her conquest she has flown the
cuckoos nest... a favorable thought
however sad however hard i may detest
those few days of happiness i cherish
i hold closest to the poetry of my heart when
in my broken down cottage she was my
venerable guest me from the east
she from the snow filled hilltops of the west
princess of orakzai warrior queen goddess
i finally one last time lay to rest ..change
of heart changing times change of address
as a beggar poet my poetic pain i have expressed
be happy be contend everyone deserves a second
chance he loves you more than me i guess
i get it off my breast ...a poem my pain prompted
the holy spirit wrote on request

i finally wrote a poem.....zenitude zen and zest

Mothers Day

a mother
who bought
her to this world
i thank her
this day
she gave
us a reason
to live
a gift
we cannot
marziya shakir
a moment
from eternity we say
wishing arizah shakir
a happy mothers day

Shia Mothers Day

184,735 items / 1,452,510 views

is when her
son cuts
his head
on ashura
the essence
of karbala
in every way
hussain is humanity
holistically healing
a mother they say
god heard hussains
mothers prayers
created shias
we have nothing
but ghame hussain
our wealth his
humility his sacrifice
with all we share
a world without
borders every
yazid we dare
hussain his mother
a unique pair
our mothers day
each moharam
when black clothes
we wear our
flesh from the soul
of our bodies we tear
our ancestral pain
our blood sweat tears
on the soul of
war declare

The Hijra Mothers Day

184,742 items / 1,452,541 views

the hijra
may not be
able to
give birth
to a child
does not
in anyway
the hijra
with no milk
in her mammary
glands has
mothers milk
of kindness
is all i can say
this child
was crying
so the hijra
gave her nipple
the child stopped
crying at hajji malang
mothers day on display
surrogate mother
is mother too
in every way
i shot a poem
of motherhood
a moment before
it passed away
a tribute
to a hijras desire
to be a mother
i display
laws of nature
travesty of
unfulfilled hopes
may or may
not seem okay

"An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy. "

Marziya Could Not Shoot Me So She Shoots Assad Dadan

184,809 items / 1,452,951 views

When I returned tired from the Marriammen shoot dying to have a shower eat upload and go to sleep Marziya wanted to shoot me this was one time I refused her politely I was in no mood to be model and I was sweaty smelling like a male cat on heat .. I think so so I asked her to shoot her phupha ..Uncle Assad her drawing teacher and creative fine arts Guru...She did and she shot him perhaps better than me .. and it is tough being married to a Shakir is what comes out on Assad Dadans face .. I think so..luckily she has not yet shot my wife the way she shot Assad Dadan...

Zindagi Ek Chor Bazar Hai

184,806 items / 1,453,136 views

ek dhoondo
toh milti hazar hain
lekin woh ek nahi
jo sachha pyar hai
jab se woh gayin
hamari neende
haram hain
unke dil pe
jada hua
kisi aur
ka nam hai
am ke am gutli
ke dam hai
mare hue
ko dubara
berhemi se
intaqam hai
mar ke zinda
inam hai
dhoobti hui
dhalti hui
sham hai

reti pe ek seep jo unka nam hai

she sells sea shells on the sea shore the sea shells she sells are not sea shells i am sure,,strikingly similar the poet endures..prevention was more costly than the cure her charm, her allure a hidden jewel in the sea pristine and pure..

Mother of Pearl..

184,806 items / 1,453,173 views

There are thousands of pieces like this on the beach, from which lamp shades and buttons are made. and love too that gets washed away on the shores of despair

she is my secret
hidden in a shell
sparkling pristine
pure on the soul
of my poetry
she swells
a silence
the mystery
of the ocean
in the conch
all is not well
why what how
she wont tell
my purgatory
my heaven
my poetic hell
muted tones
of a broken bell
her name
binds me like
taut ropes
in her magic spell
in the craggy
of my soul
she dwells
.the jewel
in the crown
of my poetry
cause and rebel
her name by any
other name is
sweet seashell

By The Way You Are Not A Shia

115,433 items / 752,905 views

I got this message on Facebook , because I told the person I was not a majlis hopper , she wanted to know about majlis in Mumbai .

I gave her a guys number who is deep in Shia events and updates me too.. even the Bahrain pro March he told me about it or I would have never known..

So I sent a message to this Facebook friend

why just because a man goes to a mosque he becomes a muslim

i am not a fan of mullahs i keep away from them .. my shiasm runs in my blood stream

my karbala is embedded in my heart soul..

perhaps i am not the kind of shia you think a shia to be

a shia is also a product of his surroundings ..

if i was not a shia you would have not approached me in the first place

any way take care .. sometimes the depth of an ocean lies in the poetry of his soul..

"Hussian-o-Minni wa Ana Minul Hussain". (Hussain is from me and I am from Hussain)

my poem

i am a hindu shia
born bred in india
my karbala
is bordered
by the himalayas
my euphrates
is ganga jamna
this is the land
of my forefathers
my cosmic path
i hold dear
my shiasm
is not a facade
or a fake veneer
from the call of
the muezzin
to fight one
muslim against
I stay clear
I would rather
be a kafir
than be a Wahabbi
or a Salafi
or a Ahle Hadees
my soul
with dead ashes
i would smear
i am nothing
believe me
on the soul
of humanity
a mothers tear
now you can call
me a sunni
or call me a shia


Mother, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

184,807 items / 1,453,263 views

others but
can anyone
ever offer you
that lies
the feat
of a mother

Dr Glenn Losack MD with his mother

I Was A Sucker Poems of Love And Delusion

184,807 items / 1,453,279 views

this morning i got up
faced her ex boyfriends ghost
a facebook lost moment
his name back on
her doorpost
my ass on the roast
no warrior queen goddess
a figment of my mind
the princess of orakzai
was nothing but an
empty boast
say it honestly
if you are my dost
you used me abused me
dumped me like compost

i was a sucker poet
poems of
love and delusion
i wont ever post
no haleem
no kebabs
no poets liver
heart spleen as mutton
skewered gosht
a dog like moment
raising one leg up
on the lamp post
i got fucked
once again

never never fall in love with a glimmering sea shell on the sea coast ... hidden pearl in an oyster a poisonous barb as a poets riposte sod off she said banged the door on my rearmost