Dear Brother Firoze, It has been a long while since I have written to you, but I often think of you and your beautiful and moving photographs of the life of the diverse people of Mumbai Tonight, Iam watching a visit Oprah Winfrey made to India and she is jsut now in Vrindavan, 'City of Widows'. Of course it is obvious that someone with the position of Oprah, she would ahve been offered the best of experiences, but I give her credit for wanting to visit the people who live in cramped homes of one room and share a buket shower and latrines in Mumbai, and now in this city where 16,000 widows live on the streets. Of course she also goes to big parties and meets improtant and wealthy people, but it just shows the marked contrasts in your country, Firoze. I love seeing your photos of your beautiful grandchildren and also the ones of your street living…
The Desire To Live Died When She Buried Me In The Dead Poets Cemetery, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. hastily she wrapped me in a bleeding shroud hid my half breathing half dead body from the mourning crowds hijras eunuchs malangs beggars weeping head bowed google+friend jack c crawford flew in from america fields of frienship we had ploughed at the dead poets cemetery read a board photography strictly not allowed the heartless woman who left me for crying out loud googledrive drop in cloud
A dabbawala (Marathi: डबेवाला); also spelled as dabbawalla or dabbawallah; literally meaning ("box person"), is a person in India, most commonly found in the city of Mumbai, who is employed in a unique service industry whose primary business is collecting freshly cooked food in lunch boxes from the residences of the office workers (mostly in the suburbs), delivering it to their respective workplaces and returning the empty boxes back to the customer's residence by using various modes of transport. "Tiffin" is an old-fashioned English word for a light lunch or afternoon snack, and sometimes, by extension, for the box it is carried in. For this reason, the dabbawalas are sometimes called Tiffin Wallahs.
The word "Dabbawala" in Marathi when literally translated, means "one who carries a box". "Dabba" means a box (usually a …
man needs to fuck any women on two legs when he comes on heat the cock too needs something to eat woman once used abused is a file so easy to delete her tits her clit her twat fuck who cares a shit for her heartbeat woman was made as a commodity by a macho male god no soul flesh in a winding sheet woman fragemented incomplete this is a general thought not of the beggar poet who with other poets photographers does not compete a shit head shooting society scum barefeet the eunuchs whores beggars hijras spawned by mother earth in defeat
Sometimes Honestly I Dont Know Why I Shoot What I Shoot, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr. my pictures talk to me but i go mute they sometimes reprimand me courteous i wont refute here i saw two guys a babe very cute dichotomous beaut a part of her tanned the other part faded bag of jute falling in love with women is jumping from the empire state building without a parachute in your birthday suit suicidal pursuit i also tried falling in love with a transvestite all was fine till one day she showed me her erect offshoot a new thought took root i gave her up now i am celibate single happy i simply google+ compute no problems no dispute though i am open if i do get a new nubile recruit with ample of fruits top heavy not hirsute of good family background my love wont dilute my next poem to her will be my lasting tribute
for fuck sake dont ask me if i steal souls when i shoot ...on my multi colored ass a signature collection of my past ladies boots ..
we are beggars on the soul of humanity thank you all we take a bow we are poorer than the poorest our worth far too little as compared to the sacrificial goat or the holy cow we are fatalists we live for now with begging our empty stomach we plough we were born dreamless we bless you for every coin you give us may god give you the golden laden bough no we wont ever return to this karmic world of inhumanity pain suffering we take a vow
i have taken poetic liberty muslims dont believe in reincarnation or karma ..
Muslim society promotes beggary, because for charity to take form a a godly virtue you need a recipient for making it work.. so enter the beggars and giving a few coins before and after the Friday prayers an extra bonus .. to mans salvation.
And Muslims who see this on the streets are immune to her pain , hypocritically they will discuss every issue under the sun save the issue of rehabilitating the poor, buying a rich fat goat for sacrifice is more important to appease God than feeding educating the poor.
And the rich Arab states are paying for their sins against Man.. and Terrorism is nothing new in Islam the Holy Prophets progeny was always terrorized killed massacred , brutally eliminated so history is there to testify against their lust for power temporal greed and excesses.. if I talk much on this topic it would be considered Shiaspeak..
it is the father in law with his chutzpah who adds hope humanity to our married life with all its flaws he balances the marital seesaw before we get mauled by the mother in law she loves her daughter more than the son outlaw before we met our wives it was her mother we saw with the rolling pin in one hand in the other hand the hacksaw
a fun rhyme with malice to none to my mother in law i am her best one
Both my parents are dead and it is my in laws I consider mother and father , initially they were not willing to give me their daughter ..I was 25 with a salary of Rs750 .. I drank , I had a roving eye .. I was crazy too.. but they gave in and I am married for 35 years now ..thanks to them I became a good person I think so..
as she moved her red nail polished fingers rolled her wrist to shoot her capture the sound of her music on your ears i could not resist on the poetry of your consciousness she now exists feathery wispy emotional whispering sensations my camera kissed