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Showing posts from February 21, 2014

“Please, sir, I want some more.”

“Please, sir, I want some more.”, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.

Dickensian dilemma
hunger bites the dust
on the floor ..we are
born die what for ..
we enter through
a hole .. into another
trapdoor..the flesh
was willing the spirits
sore ..god is the essence
faith is the core ..destiny
knocking the wrong doors
we prostitute our moments
memories we whore ...
blood sweat tears of ore

“Some people are nobody's enemies but their own” 
― Charles DickensOliver Twist

The Street Will Be My Grave When I Die

The Street Will Be My Grave When I Die, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
but you die
everyday
said my
inner angst
my altar ego
muting my
death wish
my last cry
inner voices
never lie
so my grave
open to take
me to my maker
a greater street
photographer
his munificence
omnipresence
cosmic eye
his camera misses
nothing i wont deny
a lens that opens
up the unknown as
it pries ..his vision
from the sun with
clouds as reflectors
in disguise .. circle
of confusion depth of
field nothing left to
the imagination
to resize,....
for that one shot
what a sacrifice
does god ever win
a prize or an acceptance
or a certificate of merit
a thought ..some surprise
god hates his pictures on
a salon wall he loves lepers
beggars cries ..for him all
that is ugly is beauty ..
sweet and nice ..

metaphorically i surmise ..hyperbolic ally ,,,i realize

yes i live as i die...

to akbar simonese .. my friend from amsterdam ...hawkeyed and wise

The Bhaiyya Dies A Million Times On The Streets Of Mumbai

The Bhaiyya Dies A Million Times On The Streets Of Mumbai, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
he ran away
from the northern plains
without ticket took the first
train to victoria terminus
lashing rains .. his sense
of adventure his gamblers
luck only god could explain
living in the slums shanties
of kurla ..working as a
coolie a cart puller ..he
uses his brain..long after
his death on the soul
of this pungent city his
tears remain...mumbai
the city of migrants
the city of pain..holds
you captive in gilded
chains..madness
unexplained .. even
the normal ones
look insane .

Where Dreams Have Gone

Where Dreams Have Gone, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.

once on my palm
as hope they were
born..i nurtured them
fed them through my
blood sweat tears
now frozen on the
soul of my poetry
memories..outworn
quiet flows the dawn
trampled forever
on the lawn..

The Hungry Ones

Marne wale se bada bachane wala hota hai.

Dargah of Hazrat Syed Ali Mira Datar Unava Gujrat

Dargah of Hazrat Syed Ali Mira Datar Unava Gujrat, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
HAZRAT SYED ALI MIRA DATAR'S GRANDFATHER(DADA SAAB) HAZRAT SYED ILLMUDDIN( R.A). SYED ILLMUDDIN CAME WITH HIS FATHER MOHHAMED DURAIN( R.A) FROM Bukhara, Uzbekistan to a village of Lukhnow (India). After demise of Ilmuddin's father he came to Ahmadabad of Gujrat where he met Kutbe Alam and that time the king of Ahmedabad was Ahmed Shah. Kutbe Alam was very much pleased on meeting Ilmuddin and he introduced him to King Ahmed Shah who letter recruitted him in his Army at post of Commander in Chief (sipesalar). Ilmuddin was a very pious man. He lead all his companion on the rightfull path of ALLAH the only One.
2) HAZRAT SYED ALI MIRA DATAR'S (R.A) FATHER(WALID SAAB) HAZRAT SYED DOST MOHAMMED( R.A). Dost Mohammed was very bold & brave man master of sword. King Ahmad Shah liked him very much as he also was a succcessfull warrior. He lived at KanpurWADI (AHMEDABAD) where a s…

Garibon Par Kya Guzarti Hai Woh Garib Hi Janta Hai

We Are A Nation Of Dreamers ,,,

The Hungry Ones

The Hungry Ones