Monday, May 7, 2012

Teri Duniya Se Door Chala Jaoonga

kasme vade
jhute bandhan
sab chod chadkar
main teri duniya se
door chala jaoonga
tuh lakh bulayegi
main palat kar
phir kabhi
nahi aoonga

Death is the ultimate release of my poetry of life...And I eagerly wait to get a fuck of this place ..the world I live in is a mirage a robbers den , a world where cheating, robbing murder rape is a way of life and I cant transform my soul to my surroundings so I look forward to an end that like a film ending in a Bollywood scene of a dying man is taking a lot of time.I am living my death throes dramatically.

Yes these are dark thoughts , depressing thoughts I am not a part of a laughter club of poets ..I am a life member of the Dead Poets Society I want the poem of my life to end and this is my obituary..

No I am not going to slit my wrists , I do no want to make metaphoric love to a running train , I have no fear of drowning..

The only thing wrong in my picture is the grave , I have requested my family not to bury me in a Shia cemetery , I have left it to my wife and children to hand over my body to Medicine.

And I thought about this much before Mr Jyoti Basu had a desire to do the same and as a poet I will be happy if someone can see with my eyes or live with any part of my body fucked anatomy , and I doubt very much if anything could be gained as I am a severe diabetic.. my brain and my poets heart could be a collectible for all you know..the country always rewards you after your death luckily I have been a good Hindu and a good Muslim too and Jesus was never too far away .... so this my posthumous poem of life choked on the bend. I am only a speck of dust on the CCD of my lifes comatose consciousness .

RIP
Firoze Shakir Cosmic Poet Eternal Sleep

All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.
Samuel Beckett .

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