Yes I Dont Compose I Simply Shoot

Yes I Dont Compose I Simply Shoot, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

no
i am a fucked up
photographer
sincere in my belief
i dont compose
to be brief
i simply shoot
what i see
life on a barrier reef
children
of a lesser god
in everlasting grief
a fucked future
that wont
turn a new leaf
no stoppage
of pain or relief
time the slimy thief
i spit on my camera lens
remove the dirt the dust
with my snotty
handkerchief

Mumbai's Slum Dog Skinhead

Mumbai's Slum Dog Skinhead, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

the barbers
are running full house
shaving head after head
earning their daily bread
mumbai heat and humidity
faces turning red
for the poor no coca cola
ice gola limbu
pani instead
breaching
my camera eye
is mumbais
slum dog
skinhead

Sometimes I Shoot Football Too..

Sometimes I Shoot Football Too.., originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

yes its true
i dont shoot
the private parts
of insects
or mountains
in misty dew
sometimes
i shoot
football too
but i would
rather
shoot
beggar kids
in the slums
begging on
the roads
by virtue
i shoot
jesus
here
at st peters
church
the holy ghost
wants his
pictures
all anew
i would rather
shoot hijras
children
of a lesser god
who are still thrown
out
of bombay gymkhana
a social stigma
an anti social element
the hijra as taboo
yes i shoot
the streets of pain
the same as it is today
or when it was in
the days chacha nehru
nothing has changed
the pain continues
its nice rosy cheeked
children who were
always abused
he saw but
turned
his eyes
the other side
they call it
a papal excuse

time bleeding bruised
the victim and the accused

Framed Without Hope

Framed Without Hope, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

123,308 items / 850,878 views

a Muslim beggar woman
walking a tight rope
framed without hope
carrying her bundle
of misery running
down the slope
her world
full of darkness
for a glimmer
of light
she gropes

The Hijab

The Hijab, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

123,308 items / 850,878 views


a garment of modesty
a controversial attire
up for grabs
those
who dont wear it
feel the jab
but those who wear it
have no problem
with its essence
dark or drab
an outer layer
without scabs
covers your flesh
your soul
even your flab
atheists
like taslima nasrin
love to blab
glib and gab
whether to burn it
at the stake
or bury
it beneath
a slab

Jesus a Muslim and a Jesuit

Jesus a Muslim and a Jesuit, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

the muslim
also known as
a shia pandit
sartorial
symbolism
crazy outfit
with a sabre
his scalp
he slits
his spiritual guide
a spanish jesuit
fr jaun so be it
with the grace
of jesus
brightly lit
a cut out
custom fit
you are
what you are
the rest bullshit
humanity
the essence
of all
religiosity
from the
parable of life
you cant omit
whether you like
or dont like it
you must admit
a path of peace
tolerance mutual
coexistence
you must not quit
this goes for the
smart ass or the twit

How Does Your Garden Grow ?

How Does Your Garden Grow ?, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

123,351 items / 851,139 views

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.[1]

a fucked future
where the next meal
will come from
we do not know
ha ha
how does your garden grow ?
begging at a signal of life
cars motorbikes in a row
as they speed stop and flow
beautiful as they glow
cursing
our lives
our woe
punished for the
fornicating sins
of our forefathers
our own parents
we hardly know
a seed in a hurry
they sowed
the streets
the pavements
traffic signals
our worldly abode
a poetic episode
our hopes in the gutter
god over generously
bestowed
our lives overload
our innocence
robbed on
every road
by a charming prince
who after devouring
the best of us
turns out
to be a toad
soon a new life
on our waist
conveniently
widowed


Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.[1]

words a poet echoed
the same words twisted
mauled mangled
another poet borrowed
as street sorrow
from his camera
overflowed