Tuesday, October 30, 2007

One Country One Flag


One Country One Flag
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

No Sunni
No Shia
No head count
Just Islamic Reality
The Muslim Unity
Live and Let Live
Everyone born Free
Living as One Great Nation
India Indian
No more Disparity
Living Proud
No Global Charity
Hindu Muslims
On Parity
One Country One Flag
Human Equality
Terrorism Terrorist
Not Part of Our Humanity
Peace Love Hope Harmony
Mutual Coexistence
With a Sense of Sanity

Yes I am A Rafaee


Yes I am A Rafaee
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

Piercing my human soul
Shooting pictures
My inner angst
My inner sigh
Yes I am a Rafaee
Don’t ever ask me why
Chancawalli Sufis won’t deny
The chillum smoke not my high
I live let live soon I will die
My body a specimen for
Medical research
No Shia cemetery for me
Don’t ask me why
Yes I am a Rafaee
The best of me as a Blog
Blown up as an emotion
In a fish eye
A stylist sartorial complicity
hung by his own neck tie
this world is run
by a mullah , a priest
a pandit and a rabbi
man swatting mankind
as the rest of the world looks by
an ointment a death wish in her eye
my god is dead says the atheist
I was born as a accidental stand by
My words unblossoming flowers
On the posterior of a pin cushioned cacti
Hacked on my consciousness a nudity of a nation
Imperialistic hegemony ambushed humanity no outcry.
Even the United Nations a dying monolith has shut eye.

To Pee or Not To Pee Carter Road


To Pee or Not To Pee Carter Road
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

The air is free
The walk is free
At Carter Road Promenade
Love, oral love is free
Accidents road run free
The only hitch no place to pee
Titan arrow headed clock
No time to see
Bandra Residents Association
Stray dog menace also free
The sky the shitting suntanned bums
The open air toilet unsanitary
Basking in the Arabian Sea..
The odor the smell aah what
Perfumery
A road to Lord Ganesha
Fledgling temple on rocks
As the Kolis take dakshina as
Visiting free
The watchmen doze
Drinking beers
As folks on spree
Life so serene and carefree
To pee or not to pee
This my ode to
Carter Road Promenade
Piss potted Poetry

Buzznet Blues No Excuse


Buzznet Blues No Excuse
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

God called
His master plan
Man
To give him joy
Company
A woman
He did scan
A child later
Trouble began
Man fell in love
with a Blog Goddess
for sake of Mistaken Identity
lets call her Suzanne
from a blog fire
into a blog frying pan
beaten bruised this
picture taking man
joined Marys clan
she Mary Magdalene
to he a dwarf
Peter Pan
His camera fucked Nikon D70
The worst in Japan
Invented when the
Nikon developer
Screwed a garbage can
If you ask Ben Bell
He will say Dafur is the
Capital of Sudan
Tom
Do You Like it
Deleted me from her Heart
As he ran
Panasonic youth
Buzznet original
My dear rope trick man
Friar Tuck Yorrik Dread heading
Australian
Woolongong
picture mafia
Got rid of me through a secret plan
Funksteena Cosmos
Visiting my niece
Miss Photographerno1
Shayana Firdausovitch Shakirova
In Kazhakistan

Dichotomy of Love Was My Doom


Dichotomy of Love Was My Doom
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

Every picture you shoot and post is a thumbnail of a larger hidden picture that your minds eye did not want too see…in this picture is a man asleep day dreaming, perhaps thoughts of love, his thoughts have given life to the picture happening on the next bench that of a couple making puppy love as seen in my picture frame , hypothetical metaphor.
I am happy for once I don’t have to post my thoughts at three different places, those who want to read me will find me one day…My home site is a photo gallery , if I go to upgrade it I lose all the data that is what my son Asif Shakir told me ,so I shall continue posting here , I don’t have the stamina to have web site for the different topics close to my heart , even the Shia site my son is working on I wanted to abort it , do away with it, but I as a Shia feel I must give back what I got from my community , only a Shia photographer will understand the Shia ethos.. frankly the photojournalists are not interested in shooting blood and gore , it is Naga Sadhu cocks that bring in the loot, I know people who have tamer pictures of the Sadhus have sold their pictures at Rs 25000 bucks a piece.
I have no regrets I gave free what I got , even at times I was forced to pay for what I shot..
My French photographer friend Laurent Salesse who was shooting Ashura in Lucknow called me from Kerala . I have invited him to Mumbai,I told him he could stay at Lucky Hotel and have all his meals at my house free..
Accommodation in Mumbai is little tough, we live in pigeon holed cubicles..in my case it is the privacy factor at home..
I am sure when Buzznet folks hit India they wont have search for a needle in a haystack..
Photographerno1 lives in a few American women hearts too…

Dichotomy of love was my Doom…
I was a whisker away from becoming a bridegroom
An American Alaskan Fern living in a freezer in my room
My wife hit my bald head with a broom
Said your second marriage to the American Woman
Over my dead body her tomb..
No poison I won’t consume..or gas fume
I will give you a divorce
My maiden name I will assume
You can go to Alaska she said
Live with your Dichotomy of Love
In Northern Lit regions
New nom de plume
I agreed surrendered till I fell in a Venus Trap
This time A Blog Goddess .. in a Red Costume
Deleted blogs of my love for her
Buried in a cyber womb.,

divorce proceedings for a viking goddess that failed to mushrooom

The Little Masseur Boy Poetic Prose


The Little Masseur Boy Poetic Prose
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

At the Mahim Dargah one feature that misses people enwrapped in spirituality of the Holy Saints , is the misery but living life with a smile .. The underbelly of existence of the Little Masseur Boy.
His little fingers kneading the calves of man, he told me had come from Uttar Pradesh, he and his friend without ticket, but with plenty of peanuts and Hope.
This is Mumbai. Mother of all Destinations.
I am told my Dad Mohamed Shakir came here at the age of 14, to try out his luck , he could not take the suffocation of a decadent society of the city of his birth Lucknow. I don’t blame him, he was a self made man.
I sometimes wonder even the most underprivileged Maharashtrian will not leave his mother state..But I respect the migrant from the North an adventurer , with guts and the reason of making it big, becoming one as Marathi Manoos.
My wife used to pester me lets buy a small place in Lucknow , as she hails from this city, but I was not financially stable enough to acquiesce to her wish….
But I like I one thing about my wife Afshaan, she could read my inner feelings she told me one day I think you should get yourself a small place in Ajmer ..I was shocked as how she could reach the deep crevice of my soul..
I also know that she knew that though I do not adhere to Sufi beliefs.. I have a special regard for Ajmer Sharif a city of Hope Peace and Harmony.. A city you come in any color of your faith but go back as a cherished Indian.,.
Yes in a way my Indianess is the color of my inherent Faith..
When I spoke to Peersaab Fakhru Miya of Hujra No6 and told him my travails and my persecution at the hands of bigotry, he said just one word, come and do your Chehlum with us..
This is one reason that I love Ajmer.
I have till date never entered the Inner Sanctum of the Holy Saint .
Yes I am not a clean Man.
I also pray to the Almighty each time I get to see Karbala , I would want someone better and more devout to take my place.
My Karbala is in my Indian heart .
The one place that makes me shed tears and I would want to see it once before I die is Damascus.. Sham.
I would like to see the place where Islam was shamed.
I fail too understand why can a sinner not have words for what he loves more than his life., why have I to be a scholar , to understand my love for Ahle Bait and Allah.
I think the entire universe of wisdom in our Holy Book lies hidden in a Nukta.. or a full stop..
So now you know even a picture of a Masseur boy can throw you away miles away into
A world.. poetic nature of mans unending Prose…

little masseur boy
massaging the body of
tired evil man
rickety bones
shamed spirituality
penitence without poise
yes transported
into a forbidden world
on the dark mahim beach front
yes innocence has lost its voice
with just rs 50 for a full
body massage
there is nothing left
for the fleshy soul to rejoice..

Man is an Island of Hate


Man is an Island of Hate
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1

Man is an island
On an urban street
Life’s traffic passes him by
Cold feet
His blanket
Quilted sorrow
His winding sheet
Palmistry
Astrology
But his bad luck
He cannot cheat
Good luck
Comes once
When he is dying
I repeat
Even death
Is ashamed
To see him
On his death beat
But death is in hurry
More souls to meet
Catch upwith misery in Iraq
Body parts Muslims
Americans unburied
Sectarian in life
Now just a casualty unclean
Killing fields that
Hate did wean
Man killed
By his own invented machine
Muslims killing Muslims
With Allah in between
Laillaha illalala
Alah ho Akbar
Empty throated words
Only a smoke screen
To kill without reason
The best of our teen
Insulting godliness
A future unseen
For such yazidiyat
There is no vaccine
If you don’t like
My human poetry
Report as obscene
For you sanctimonious
Saints of a belching society
All this is routine
After all Blogs are Truth
Truth you hate
But cant Delete

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