Bollywoods Most Wanted PhotographerNo1

Once upon a time in Buzznet

A moronic memory

A memory that she would love to forget

My papier mache ass you bet

you deserve what you get

the heart a lonely hunter

a room with a view

she wont let

searching for nirvana

fucked from asshole to eternity

on the soundless silence

once we met

a crazy camelot

closed doors

of the internet

Ihavent got over her yet

From PhotographerNo1

photo courtesy

google images

Thank you Angel

I am a dysfunctional devil

of a photo blogger from hell

she the blog goddess

did have me under her spell

but fuck we did not get on well

i did tell my sob story to my

dear friend ben bell

why dont you try steve haldane

he loves young ones

oh he does romantically revel

most of the lover boys

are now at flickr

rabbit and crow

tom andrews

yorrik friar

dread head

says this buzznets

bogey man and

a cause that needs to rebel

I am amazed an entire post does not appear  completely when posted as New Photo.. Hence I am posting this as a journal...

photo courtesy <a href="http://www.hitchams.suffolk.sch.uk/india_art/starter/nautch_girls.htm">www.hitchams.suffolk.sch.uk/india_art/starter/nautch_girl...</a>

Once upon a time, in a remote sleepy hamlet of a town,in India, cultured, dance , music no religious hatredness, on a kotha of a nautch girl, a nautch girl is a professional danceuse..where Time to stopped to see this woman that moved her world on her two feet, gyrating away the sadness and sorrows of her soul.. to lyricless music of pain, and disenchantment.

One day the little boy who used to press the nautch girls tired feet massage them in a little basin of rose water.. the softness of the faded petals adding to the touch of the little boys tender hand…was asked by the mistress to go and get some sour mango pieces that the mango man was selling sounding off in his tenored voice….he went hurriedly and bought the mango pieces in a paper cone white and moist with ink.. like tears fallen on a dry palm..

The nautch girl , threw the mango pieces started unfolding the cone and read the agony of a poet began to shed tears..yes it was lyrical..a love poem of a poet in penury, a poet on hard times who might have sold his notebooks to keep the fires burning of his agonising life.

And the next time she danced on these lyrics translated into music.. all the pain was gone.. a flurry of a new emotion of love, yes our nautch girl was in love with the nameless, faceless poet..... such is love it catches you unawares..in its sheer simplicity.

She was in love and sent her emissaries to track down her poet lover, she succeeded but he would not meet her, on oath of death had told the person who had discovered him.. that he would send her new poems day after day….but he would not be seen by human eyes at all..

I am not a writer or a story teller .. so I will leave this story incomplete..

I will reveal the mystery of the poet,.
He had an incurable disease lived among the lepers in a lepers colony..his eyes were hollows , his fingers were stubs, a kind person down the road wrote his words that fell like tears from craters destroyed by the ravages of time...
He had seen good times, but than envious fate struck, all his loved ones , friends hanger ons deserted him like a sinking ship..
He had come and settled here when the disease errupted all over his body his mind his consciousness.

Its human nature to falling love , with a shadow , add our own flesh to it, animate it with humanly emotions , make it larger than life ,than when we see the actual reality , feel hurt, self inflict , curse fate for having let us down..cybernet love is almost like this, we fall in love with a face that is not even her actual face, her words that are distorted to lure, to honeytrap, to hurt , to squeeze out his testicular identity , yes beware of falling in love with goddesses on the net, they too are carved out of clay only the tiara on their head like Medusa is real swarming like a serpents nest to ..annihilate Man..simple , kind , naive , on the face loving Man..
Another one bites the dust.

I dedicate it to one woman.. in a world that keeps pushing the other one women ..in my life ... I am a dichotamous one woman man.

Afshaan... my wife my lifelog goddess..
the other the blog goddess.....

photo courtesy xris taylor profile page  including text ..

<a href="http://xris.buzznet.com/user/profile/">xris.buzznet.com/user/profile/</a>

the buzznet tinies

wrote this cuz i was bored
and cuz Edward Gorey rocks!

A is for axa who was poisoned with gold and also for abbie who died form a cold
B is for bigtanky now go suck a fuck she died of claustrophobia well she actually got stuck
C is for Comentatorno1 and his brother P1 they both gorged themselves on some bad curry lamb
D is for dvl, dgecko and doubleb they fell off a mountain while looking for me
E is for ero, that guy was a champ but then he got stabbed one night by a tramp
F is for feebalk, funksteena and friartuck while crossing the street they got hit by a truck
G is for ghostgirl and the lovely sweetgee they got shot by teacher at a university
H is for hunhun and while at burning man she blew herself up along with her van
I is for ilisu who loved colors bright and was tragedly killed in some senseless fight
J is for finkel, trust me on the spell, her and the abscondmongrel got sent back to hell
K is for kristyanne a shortie sweet chick who got trampled to death by a rednecked hick
L is for lexmonkey he disloged his jaw he turned inside out and that's all i saw
M is for matt who had little dogs but wasn't inmune to adam's stinky clogs
N is for northshorerian she called buses a (boose) and while tending her garden got gored by a moose
O is for ooo he had bad bad luck, his big frenchie head got squashed by a rock
P is for paxgitmo a great mind for blogging and while fighting for freedom triped a mine without knowing
Q is for quixotic she loved to hang loose and she still hanging up there, her neck on a noose
R is for ribstealer who was afraid of the rain and while looking for cover got hit by a train
S is for schvetybetty she was a girly deluxe but she fell one day to some strong chicken pox
T is for tomdog he was also big tease and fell to his own tomdog bug disease
U is for u and those i forgot i really can't ryme so tis all i got
V is for venomiss she was stalking jolie and fell on her head while climbing a tree
W is for woodnutter a man with broad shoulders who got traped in at work in between of two boulders
X is for xris the guy writing this he ate a big steak and got madcow disease
Y is for yorrick he had a thing for a goose but was killed by a lady with a big huge caboose
Z is for zilzala the natural disaster she finally found love but was eaten by her master.

Posted: 10/22/2005 8:16 AM

Views: 464

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COMMENTS (28)

steve: 10/22/2005 8:52 AM
photo/comentator #1 rule

xris: 10/22/2005 9:03 AM
yes they do

funksteena: 10/22/2005 9:05 AM
lol. very nice xris.

paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 9:25 AM
Xris, this is even better than Gorey.

I like TQ1s and I had a relationship like Zilzala's once.

More bedtime reading for Steve.

kristyanne: 10/22/2005 9:30 AM
LOL!

thequixotic1: 10/22/2005 9:34 AM
Heehee-
Thanks xris, I haven't been so informally informed of the manner of my death since the last time I played &quot;light as a feather, stiff as a board.&quot; :)

I think Lex &amp; Tomdog are my favoritest lines.

tomdog: 10/22/2005 9:44 AM
I love Gorey and you've done a great spoof! and thanks so much for the mention

lexmonkey: 10/22/2005 9:49 AM
simply awesome!

axa13: 10/22/2005 9:52 AM
Thanks, oh thanks, oh thanks be to you

Here's a lost line I found in my shoe:

S is for Steve the man with the Buzz Button
While chasing the girls he choked on some mutton

Fortunately, like Photographerno1 I will return to at least haunt you

}; )

.

[delete]

photographerno1: 10/22/2005 10:17 AM
ARE YOU HAPPY NOW THAT WE ARE DEAD.
WILL YOU KEEP FUCKING YOUR EMPTY BED.
OR WILL YOU GET UP SOZZLED
AND GO DOWN ON YOUR SHADOW AND GIVE HIM HEAD.

NO SICK MAN TO OUR COLLECTIVE GRAVE
YOULL GO
LIGHT CANDLES AND SEE THEM BLOW
AND CRY AND YOU SELF GUILT SHOW

THEN RUN TO DRSTEVELIFEGIVINSKY
FALL AT HIS FEET TO BRING US BACK TO LIFE
AND WE WILL COME
ALL OF US
TO PUT
ALL THE KNIVES IN YOUR BUM
WITH YOUR ENTRAILS
A GUITAR WE WILL STRUM
YOUR SWOLLEN ENJOINED TESTICLES
WILL BE BONGOS FOR OUR DRUMS
WE WILL PEEL YOU, CRUSH YOU,
AND THROW YOU IN A HEARSE
THAT WILL THROW YOU AT ABU GHARAIB
ON A LEASH OF A BEARDED IRAQI NURSE
AND CSOTBA SWEET CSORBA.
BETTY, AXA, FUNK,RIB
TATYANA POODLES ,
AND ALL OF US WILL CURSE
AND EVEN IN YOUR NEXT LIFE
OUR DEATH YOU WILL NEVER REHEARS.E.
THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY
WILL BURN WHATS LEFT OF YOU
ON A STAKE
AND AUTOMATED BUZZBOT
WILL FEATURE YOUR END
AND FOREVER MY HAND SHAKE.

MATRIXNO1..
SUPORTED BY STEVEN
AND NOW XRISX WE ARE
COLLECTIVELY EVEN.

paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 10:21 AM
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

schvetybetty: 10/22/2005 10:24 AM
his big frenchy head! hahaaahahahaaaahaaaahha!

xris: 10/22/2005 10:25 AM
haha p1 cracks me up!!!!!

axa13: 10/22/2005 10:42 AM
Yes, PNO1 does that to me, too.

I think I see a great new Epic Bollywood horror film being hatched.

}; )

.

[delete]

photographerno1: 10/22/2005 10:50 AM
OTHER MEMBERS OF THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY
WILL ALSO COME
TO WRITE A COLLECTIVE POETIC EPITAPH
ON YOUR ..DISGRACEFUL BUM..

ALL THAT WE DID FOR YOU FORGOT
ONBUZZNETS CYBERMAGIC JUST A BLOT
AND TO KILL US ALPHABETICALLY
A SINISTER PLOT
AND YOU SAY SO WHAT..
AXA SILVER..
WILL CUT OFF YOUR
HEAMOGLOBBIN DANGLING
PENILE ENVYISH... SLOT
LACKING

hunhun: 10/22/2005 10:55 AM
:) :0 :) :0 :) :0 :) :0

Closer to the truth than you know, my friend

northshorerain: 10/22/2005 11:10 AM
Hilarious xris !! :D !

drunkgeko: 10/22/2005 11:16 AM
Héhéhéhé.... très sympa Xris!
Merci à toi! :)

ribstealer: 10/22/2005 1:43 PM
holy swollen nuts, xris!! i must admit this is my first xposure to Gorey...reminds me of a bad acid trip or three...or twenty-six...!
i find it teeth-chatteringly fascinating - cheers you crazy mo-fo, keep churning that butt-er!!!!!

paxgitmo: 10/22/2005 2:30 PM
You've no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.

What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the Ocean.
Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.

It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.

So- I've brought you a mirror.

Look at yourself and remember me.

- Jalaluddin Rumi

ooo: 10/22/2005 2:53 PM
So THAT's what happened! :D

abscondmongrel: 10/22/2005 4:28 PM
ahhhhahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhaaa

X is for &quot;XXXcellent&quot; just like Mr. Burns
R is for rancid, the meat that had turned
I is for Ice cream that gave him the runs
S is for shitty, the smell of his buns.

venommlss: 10/23/2005 4:20 AM
&quot;V is for venomiss she was stalking jolie and fell on her head while climbing a tree &quot;
Excellent..!! What a way to go!! next time.. can I just fall on her??

feebalk: 10/23/2005 12:54 PM
ohhhhh
cute!
i love it
thank about the 'F'
kisses

bigtanky: 10/23/2005 1:23 PM
hehehe that is the awesome!!

woodnutter: 10/24/2005 8:19 PM
Coolnessness! I actually collect Gorey stuff. I had all 5 of his books. I have some somewhere in in a box. 'alas, I have too much studying to do instead of fun stuff reading....

zilzala: 11/14/2005 10:56 PM
perfect

tolovemoon: 01/28/2006 9:50 PM
I knew it! you are nuts just like me! I guess they need to make a pshco hospital so all of buzznetters will have the care needed for all the bolts n screws we loose from lack of sleep, staring at weird pictures, commenting on others stuff.....:) writing crazy but cool journal entries! You still rock Xris! :) Peace!

I have never been able to forget Xris and I had just got to know him,  the the rest of his extended family..it was Steve who called me and said that night Xris was slaughtering us all and this is before theThe Massacre at Haditha.. so I took up cudgels and fought a poetic battle.. single handedly..and it is the comments on this Post of Xris that are the Poems.. of all the other Mega stars.., goddesses, god men,  and your truly.. the Home boy, Megalomaniac Shia Thug... ha ha ha ..10 9 8 7 5 4 3 2 1 and here I go Bust.

posted at flickrs.

A Marriage And No Funerals- to Yorrik 

Introduction posted at Buzznet

I am mostly at Flickrs editing my old stuff that I saved on my Homesite, when I deleted 11000 Blogs in a single night, I was scared as the guys misguided hardliners wanted to harm me and my family .This cybernetic Hate .Whatever I am today I owe to my friends here at Buzznet, these posts are to show you we dont change our inherent values , our respect for friends without whom we would have aborted this journey .I dont want to ingartiate myself , I am happy in my own singular world , my world of imaginary one sided love , my world of pictures my world of poetry ... without you guys it would have remained unclaimed as Blog.

SEE ENJOY AND VAMOOSE.

DONT HANG MY BALLS TO A NOOSE.

ETHEL LOVES ME AND I AM NO BIG MOOSE.

I DONT EVEN WEAR FUCKED SHOE.S

HORSESHOED TO MY BARE FEET WTHOUT SCREWS.

Message from Yorrik to me .

Thank you buddy!!! Your name will remain on my friends list for the rest of time I am almost sure of this....I hope all the nasty behavour that went down on Sydney beaches and got sent around the worlds media chains didn'y put you off Australians my dear Firoze...that was the behavour of thugs and both sides of that argument were guilty of thuggery....not all Aussies are that narrow minded and my friends from Muslim communities are all equaly disgusted in the representation of their culture....silly bloody hooligans, I would much prefer to have the whole world share the beach with me and we could all call it ours not mine or yours...that would be nice missed my Buzz over the last month......looks like I got back just in time...always good to see your colors Firoze, see you some more very soon...all the best :yorrik

MY REPLY TO YORRIK AND MY TALE... MY ASS YOU CAN NEVER NAIL...MADE IN INDIA ALSO WRITTEN IN BRAILLE

Hi Yorrik you are indeed my best friend, forgive me for making your message public ,I did not know much about cut and paste I learnt when Time calligraphed on my designer ass the hallowed words Made in India..Export Quality suitable for human consumption..shelf life in USA..unpredictable.
I keep falling in love in America or what I think is America and American love is more unpredictable than the change of weather on my weather beaten ass... this is not in reference to your fairy story.

My fairy story has fairies and Queeries

I am a married man who keeps falling in love as love is unmarried.. when love gets married thats when they start playing the entire philaramonic brouhaha on the ass.
And I was a whisker away getting married on line.... Alji had consented to give away the bride..
Alji is astrologically superior and highly auspicious, the Nikah would have been beautifully recited in Welsh language..Marc Steve and Anthony..were ever supportive had chosen Arizona as the place for celebrations, chief guests were Biz Stoned and Brand and Stoned.
Google Earth had promised to foot the entire bill and Azzie was going to take charge as event manage, .for this matrimonial do.
And Bill Gates Microsoft head honcho might come to taste the Biryani... he has good taste.

The security arrangements incase someone kidnapped the bride was handed over to Buzznets most qualified encounter specialist,MrJonnie the Boy from Brazil ,,playboy encounterist offline and cops children that work their ass off on the streets have kids looking Jonnie faced is coincidental to the nature of the job.

Tom Do you like it has desired to shoot Fulsome photos of the nude couple when they are thrown in a tub of vinegar laced with aniseed..hemlocked for ever in Buzznet Matrimony.

Scarletlark and Epiphany in charge of guests and pests

The flower arrangement is being looked over by my best pal Funksteena she has used the services of celebrity florists Deflowered Dead Maidenhead Florists..Salt Lake City Utah.. little Cosmos is dressed like me, shooting pictures on one leg.

Friar, Yorrik, and DreadHearing, are trying to calm the Middle Easterners who have gate crashed here thinking it is free for all and a couple of bare chested Aussies have been properly bruised battered by Velvet Paws, Little Nova has hammered an unruly red and white scarved rag head... the ambience is of Bondi beach,, thank you Azzie for a topical Bondi beach theme...

And my sweet little kid sister always getting lost in a crowd, she is my Csorba and they dont make sisters like this any more , she had once told me to give her away in marriage and I am an emotional dwarf I cry and am crying now too..thank you Csorba may you get your dream man.. his dreams too.

And my sweetest sweetheart of a friend..I kept hidden like a trump card Schvety betty,.. all I can say in the words of Fontaine is' Friendship is the shadow of the evening, which strengtens with the setting sun of life.'Thanks Betty and my liitle angel Lydia and Betty I am a lousy match maker..even when it comes to rematches.

Ribstealer in chage of the bar, banners of her new book,drinks free, pay hard cash for the book...buy 2 books and get 3 drinks free ..

Xris and Axa 13 in disguise..like hobos, filming the event as the pretty neice of Uncle Osama ..is paying a surprise call, there is a possibility of a snatch, no pun, and kidnap, hence the disguise to my mentors.. I am worried she does not kidnap Xris and hope he does not run in his underoos.. on my wedding day.

El Gekko Drunk..sorry wont wake up ..stoned drunk and is playing with his little gekko that unzipped from its surroundings.. brother 000 is trying to catch it before it is resold at a Morroccon souk and re exported to Reunion Islands as canned stuff...

Jamie and Rikkabo are flirting with the Indian,indian guests,

Povertixfix and Obqupunx are flirting with anything indegenous on 2 legs.

The cuisine is a naughty mix and Qiuxotic, Tatyana and Honeytoes,Mahayani and Rauchy have put it together Rauchy has put more than could be put together.

And last but not the least..
.A samba special surprise item yes an item to surprise even otherwise, choroegraphed words on the tight rope of sentences, walzing to give my emotions a thought, pirouetting gliding free and touching the chords of a heart of a piano ,dust covered ..sooty and cobwebbed... enchntingly fingerless plays..music thats binds me to a muse.

Wild Orbit..is searching for the homosxual massage guy..

To be Continued as not to hurt people they are all honrary mentions like bulk tags on your posts at Buzznet.

And Bazookiss just called from some Shinto temple in Japan,he wont attend my wedding if I dont dress him up like me, he says he wil go bald, barefeet and also stand on one leg.. my problem is a this is ok but I am scared my new American wife might just find Bazookiss a better and more cock sure Photographerno1 and American women are so unpredictable when it comes to getting married wit their eyes closed.. they open it when they get laid... in their Graves.

photo courtesy Yorrik profile at Buzznet.
This is one of my mad cap early  writings prose written as poetry.
Heavily edited today.
2 July 2007

  There are lot of Mansions in my Heart ..but only a single Room with a View.

I have re-edited my  post on Tom Do You  Like It  read the new version  here .

I  am with a bunch of Buzznet Buccaneers who are now going for a change..

censorship, think flickr think.. yes thy are the Flickr Refugees

I hope that some change for the better happens in all our hearts, we start chiming loves notes like old times..

take care

firoze shakir

a flickering flame

waswild orbited

now gone tame

a new picture

of a shia thug

in the old frame

Main stream media hates all bloggers per se
This is envious Hate that goes into deliriums seeing news sodomized by newbie wannabe bloggers.
Guys who know nothing about the perseverance that went into becoming a journalist, those stringer days, those cub reporter days, those chilly nights outside Bhabha Hospital during the Mumbai Train serial blasts , that was a tough one , a few decapitated heads in a corner, a few limbs resting still searching for the main body.
Than comes the Blogger , Photo Blogger , shoots the train of events in one single night, from Bandra station to Mahim station, from Mahim station to Matunga, all on barefoot, blonde hair , heckled by the cops, shooting weeping tears in the viewfinder.
The Terrorists destroyed metal concrete but not the iron in the Soul of Man. Yes this photo blogger shot the blast, came home at 3 am, washed rushed to Bhabha Hospital people wide awake, hovering over the list of injured dead hung like a dooms board.
The local MP requested me not to shoot pictures of the patients in the emergency ward, but I took a shot or two.. From Bhabha Hospital, with all the media vans outside the venue I rushed to my shop 4 am, downloaded the pictures, started posting them at Buzznet, Bloggerspot..
No going down under the legs of a sucked photo editor who knows nothing not even the distance from his elbow to his asshole.
I was tired, but did not give up..
I am lucky I am not a journalist, a pen pusher; perhaps I Talk editor just might delete this post so I shall post it at Word Press too.
.Today’s journalist is arrogant, soulless, sensationalizing shadows that don’t exist.
He thinks he is Gods answer to a Quiz. I write about Indian Newspapers and fatuous Indian news journalists.
I mean each Sunday the Times of India writes the Bloggers obituary in oxymoron Hate.
But the Photo blogger will not die that easily.
Yes we are awful at our spellings, our grammar falling apart, bloopers galore, some call us failed writers, in my case the writing and poetry started 20 months back falling in love with American women on the Internet, well you learn to Eye Talk..You need no grammar, you need silence of a Photo Blog..
Yes our photos are part of a holistic healing, I know one thing my Dad told me if you have content for a thirsty man he will come to you to quench his thirst, it applies to pictures , your stories too.
Writing crap , will get you a reader once but cant fool them all the time. I am not saying this in defense of all Bloggers, I talk for my kind of breed of photo bloggers
We have a Blogger God he is Brandon Stone of Photo Blogs Org..
We pay allegiance to him as he pays our allegiance to truth.
Its time jealously jeopardized jalopy riding journalists hitch a hike to reach where ever they are going instead of shadow boxing with us bloggers and using us a punching bags for their frustrations..
Blogger Rubbished Ha Ha

Posted by firoze shakir

at italk news and bloggerspot

June 12th, 2007

Appu My Friend

[Walking Tall ]

Appu is a friend,we met a few years back, he begged on the street corner of the flea market called Chor Bazar .I had just started photography, the first time I took his picture his relatives abused me harshly saying I would sell his pictures to the foregn press. I hate main stream media anyway.. I said nothing totally saddened I walked away, Appu saw the sadness read my moist eyes of a street poet. The next time I went and gave him the copies of his picture. Yes photography binds people much faster than a priests sermon.I began photo playing with Appus pictures, new to adobe photo shop, I would remove Appu from his languid horrid surroundings cut paste him magically seamlessly at the up end Bandra Carter Road , this made him my friend for life.I paid him, but it was not what he wanted from me, I cannot or will not call him a beggar.He is destinys Child. I know if Princess Diana was alive she would have endeared herself to Appu... During the cloudburst when Mumbai was bought to a standstill 15 feet water , buildings submerged, I barefeet was carrying a human live corpse on my shoulder from Thana to Bandra, an old man who had accompanied me to Thana traffic office when we were caught in the onslaught, no cars, no trains no help, the old man told me leave me here near a bus stop, the mobile phones dead, I requested him , pleaded him, we hitched , till we reached Chunnabhatti, I saw a Best bus , I put him in the bus, dragged my bare feet drenched to Bandra, perhaps you think I am digressing, actually I kept myself alive praying for my son Asif who was stranded at Mira Road, and the thunderbolt of a thought of Appu.. Yes in retrospection I learnt to walk like a man because of Appu, I cried a lot thinking of him. I knew how the goats loved butting him on the streets , yes it was a territorial war between him and them. I have not met Appu since two years , I dont know where he his, but I hope he lives . But it is tough living Appu.. This is a series not to beg sympathy for Appu but to show you his defiance to fight misery at all costs...this is the magic of survival , magic of a magical moment called India.

Imam Hussain was the grandson of the Holy Prophet of Islam.After the passing away of the Prophet , there was a clamouring of power , though the Holy Prophet had inadvertently mentioned at Ghadir Qum Man Kunto Moula Ali Fazhaiun Moula , simply translated it meant give Ali the same respect as you give me.

However on his death , there was a political conspiracy, hatched in such a way that Ali lost his right to the Caliphate. Abubaker became the First Caliph of Islam.The followers of Ali could not take the disparage so a non temporal, spiritual post came into being called Imamat. Ali was the first Imaam..All the Imams died tragic death.The 12th Imam for the Shias is Hidden he is known as the Mahdi or Al Muntazar or Imam e Zamana .This is the irrevocable difference between Shias and Sunnis who form the majority Islamic sect.The Shia are about 15% scatterd in some countries but a majority in Iraq Iran Azaerbaijan.

 Imam Hussain was asked to pay allegiance to the Caliph of his time Yazid of the Ummayad Caliphate, Hussain declined as Yazid was anti Islam corrupt and a despot. A battle took place between the warriors of Yazids army led by Shimr.. Imam Hussains 72 warriors, this was one of the most barbaric chapters of Islam, where not even a six month child of the imam was spared.Ali Asghar was shot down by an arrow with which you shoot wild life Water was blocked at the Euphrates, everyone was killed save a surviving sickly son of the Imam known as Sajjad or Zainul Abedin the ladies and the indomitable sister of the Imam , Bibi Zainab , a four year daughter Bibi Sakina . Imam Hussain was shot down by arrows, Zuljana his faithful steed taking the brunt of the attack, after that Shimr decapitated the Imams head , their clothes belongings looted, bodies trampled by horses, their head put up on spears, women children enslaved, taken to Damascus to the court of Yazid..

This was the beginning of Jehadi terrorism or Yazidiyat , in the name of Allah, this was the treatment meted out to the Holy Prophets family. In India when Alexandra conquered Porus, Alexandra asked him what treatment should I mete out to you..or how should I treat you. Porus replied a treatment befitting a King..this is Indian thought, hospitabilty to which Imam Hussain was enamoured, when he was stopped at Karbala before the carnage and genocide he told the Yazidi forces to allow him to go to Hindustan , where he said I know there are no Muslims, but yes there are human beings..he was talking of a land that belonged to Brahma Vishnu Mahadev..

So Moharam is not just about shedding blood , cutting foreheads , self flagellation, its about human dignity defying death ,upholding the principles of Truth..

Zuljana a four legged animal symbolises faithfulness that was lacking among the Yazidi forces , they knew the enemy they had come to crush was the grandson of the Holy Prophet but they impotently kept mum, like todays rulers Muftis , Islamic heads of State who watch the terror inflicted on Humanity, but have no balls to stand up collectively and say.. Stop this Carnage.This is not the Islam preached by the Holy Prophet..or his Imams.

This is the honest truth as I see it , Islam is at crossroads , it is a crusade not between the Cross or the Crescent , it is a crusade of Hate ,yes Muslims are bent on destroying Islam, Muslims love killing Muslims.. This is a picture of Zuljana at a Moharam Juloos.Every Juloos is incomplete without the Zuljana.

Today Islam has been politicised for personal gains , by vested interests,this mornings paper talked of a threat to India by a subsidiary of Al Qaeda called Qaeede Hind..this is criminalisation of a spirtual thought of Islam , this is satanism , the Shia shedding blood is called Heresy, the Puritanical Muslim killing Humanity is called Jehad.. For once I am shocked at the moderation of my Intelligence.. Yes I would rather be a Shia cutting myself up...shedding my own blood than asking little kids to decapitate Journalist heads, a dead Pearl of Wisdom..

Posted at Bloggerspot on my new web site
Kumbh Mela
The Churning of the Ocean - The Story Behind Kumbha Mela
Courtesy

Kumbh’ in sanskrit refers to ‘pot or pitcher’ and ‘mela’ is ‘festival’. Kumbha Mela, thus finds a meaning as a festival of the pot. The historic origin of the Kumbh Mela dates back to the vedic times.

The Real Story: It is believed that once the gods(devtas) were cursed by Rishi Durvasa. This made them lose their powers, thus weakening their body and mind. To regain their old strength and vigour, the devtas planned to churn the primal ocean to extract the ‘elixir of immortality’, the ‘amrit’ or ‘the water of life’. They approached demons (daityas) and persuaded them to perform ‘Samudra Manthan’ (churning of the ocean) to bring out the nectar. One who would drink the nectar would become immortal and therefore, most powerful and indestructible. Thus, gods and demons agreed to share the nectar once it was brought up from the depths of the ocean.

The Huge Tug Of War:

Finally, the churning of the ocean began with the Mandar mountain being used as the churning stone and the giant serpent to become the coiled rope for turning. There was a dispute as to who would take which side - the head or the tail - of the serpent. Finally the churning began with the gods catching hold of serpent’s tail and the demons, its head. Then started the huge tug of war.As the churning progressed, the ocean began to yield its treasures. A deadly poison was produced and Lord Shiva came forth to swallow the poison to save the creation. The universe was gifted with a celestial horse, a divine cow, a valuable gem, a magic moon, a musical instrument, apsaras or beautiful dancing girls, Lakshmi (the goddess of fortune), Vishvakarma (the divine architect and constructor) and then came the divine medicine man, Dhanvantri, with the coveted pot of amrit.

The Last Spell:

Seeing Dhanvantari with the pot of nectar, the gods and demons became anxious. The demons who were physically stronger than the gods forcibly seized the pot. The demons and the Gods fought over the pot for twelve days and twelve nights (equivalent to twelve human years). Finally, Lord Vishnu, disguising himself as an enchantress, took the pot of nectar from the demons and passed to Jayant, Lord Indra’s son, who assumed the form of a large bird, flew off with the jar. Some drops of the nectar fell on his way at four places: Allahabad, Haridwar, Trimbakeshwar and Ujjain. Each of these places became the holy pilgrimage sites for Kumbh Mela.

Kumbh Mela
» Prayag near Allahabad» Trimbakeshwar near Nasik» Ujjain» Haridwar near Rishikesh
» Maha Kumbh Mela» Purna Kumbh Mela» Ardh Kumbh» Magh Mela

June 10th, 2007

Shri Sadanand of Agni Akhada :
I was waiting outside the Akhada premises at Sevagram, to catch a glimpse of him, his bodyguards told me that he would come out for darshan, I took his picture after taking his permission,,turned my back and was going away, I was dressed in my normal trouser , shirt attire, not the exotic clothes that I wear.
He called me back, he looked deep into my eyes , said ‘You are a Momin arent you’ this is what the Shia are called among Muslims.I was shocked but did not betray any emotion , I said ‘Yes ‘.
He said wash your hands , as a devotee gave me water , than he pulled out a silver coin presented to me, the moment I touched the coin, I went down on my knees automatically, he said look at the coin, the coin was the image of Mecca our Holy city it had the Kaaba on it, , he walked away without hearing my thanks.In the meanwhile all his devotees rushed up to me kissing the coin taken from my my hands.
This was the mysticism of the Kumbh , for a Muslim man like me.
As I walked away a man caught up with me, rich man gold in abundance on his body, he came to the point…He said ‘Will you sell the coin I am offering you Rs 5000/I declined , pushed my way into the crowds.
I still have the silver coin of a reminder of my tryst with a spirtual destiny.
This is Hope and Hindutva the cornerstone of my cultural inheritance.
There was so much to learn to absorb at the Kumbh, the Kumbh is not just an important part of a Hindu calendar, the Kumbh is a chapter of your after life opening to the present.
I start the Kumbh experience, these are pictures embedded in memories, the picture quality has been reduced in terms of Dpi..as there is much I have to post , within the limit set by Bloggers inMb.I do not intend taking an upgrade , as this is a purely sharing religious sentiment with absolutely no commercial craving.
A lot of people approached me to buy off my Hindu, Shia , Sufi Christian images , though I was broke sometimes but never interested.. I got it free I give it back to the community I took from..I may be not as talkative or self explanatory on the next posts, so read the silence of a spirituality in my pictures.These are timeless moments of my unlearning photography.

June 10th, 2007

Posted at Kumbh Mela Bloggerspot

wikipedia

Maha Shivratri or Maha Sivaratri or Shivaratri or Sivaratri (Night of Shiva) is a Hindu festival celebrated every year on the 13th night/14th day in the Krishna Paksha of the month Maagha (as per Shalivahana) or Phalguna(as per Vikrama) in the Hindu Calendar. The most significant practices on this day are offerings of Bael (Bilva) leaves to the Lord Shiva, fasting and all night long vigil.

During the samudra manthan by the Gods and demons, haalaa-hala, a poison came out of the ocean. It was so toxic, that its effect would have wiped out the entire creation. At this juncture, as per the advice of Vishnu, the gods approached Mahadev and prayed to him to protect their lives by consuming this poison. Pleased with their prayers, out of compassion for living beings, Lord Shiva drank this poison and held it in his throat by binding it with a snake. The throat became blue due to the poison (Thus Lord Shiva is also know as Neelakantha) and Shiva remained unharmed. This shows that shiva is also the protector. In another story, it is said that the whole world was once facing destruction and the Goddess Parvati worshiped her husband Shiva to save it. She prayed for the Jivas (living souls) remaining in space like particles of gold dust in a lump of wax during that long period of pralaya (deluge) night, should, upon becaming active again and in the enjoy­ment of their short day and night, have his blessings, but only if they worshiped him just as she did then. Her prayer was accordingly granted. Parvati named the night for the worship of Iswara by mortals Maha-Sivaratri, or the great night of Siva, since pralaya is brought about by him. This period is really his night from the great night or pralaya which was the cause for the origin of this Sivaratri [1]

Assurance
After creation was complete, Parvati asked Shiva of which rituals pleased him the most. The Lord replied that the 14th night of the new moon, during the month of Maagha, is my most favourite day. It is known as Shivaratri. Parvati repeated these words to her friends, from whom the word spread over all creation.

[edit] The Hunter
Once upon a time, a hunter worshipped Lord Shiva unknowingly on Shivaratri. He did this by dropping bael leaves on a shiva linga at the base of a bael tree from its branches where he was hiding and fasting all night. For this he was forgiven of all his sins. This forms the basis behind the offerings of bael to the Lord on Shivaratri.

[edit] The Story Of King Chitrabhanu
In the Shanti Parva of the Mahabharata, Bhishma, whilst resting on the bed of arrows and discoursing on Dharma, refers to the observance of Maha Shivaratri by King Chitrabhanu. The story goes as follows -
Once upon a time King Chitrabhanu of the Ikshvaku dynasty, who ruled over the whole of Jambudvipa, was observing a fast with his wife, it being the day of Maha Shivaratri. The sage Ashtavakra came on a visit to the court of the king.
The sage asked the king the purpose of his observing the fast. King Chitrabhanu explained that he had a gift of remembering the incidents of his previous birth.
The king said to the sage that in his previous he was a hunter in Varanasi and his name was Suswara. His only livelihood was to kill and sell birds and animals. One day while roaming through forests in search of animals he was overtaken by the darkness of night. Unable to return home, he climbed a tree for shelter. It happened to be a Bael tree. He had seen a deer that day but let it live, after seeing the deer’s sad family. As hunger and thirst tormented him, he was kept awake throughout the night. His canteen leaked water as he thought of his poor wife and children who were starving and anxiously waiting for his return. To pass away the time that night he engaged himself in plucking the Bael leaves and dropping them down onto the ground.
The next day he returned home and bought some food for himself and his family. The moment he was about to break his fast a stranger came to him, begging for food. He served the food first to stranger and then had his own.
At the time of his death, he saw two messengers of Lord Shiva. They were sent down to conduct his soul to the abode of Lord Shiva. He learnt then for the first time of the great merit he had earned by the unconscious worship of Lord Shiva during the night of Shivaratri. The messengers told him that there was a Lingam at the bottom of the tree. The leaves he dropped fell on the Lingam. His canteen, which leaked water, washed the Lingam and he had fasted all day and all night. Thus, he unconsciously worshiped the Lord.
As the conclusion of the tale the King said that he lived in the abode of the Lord and enjoyed divine bliss for long ages and now he has reborn as Chitrabhanu.

[edit] Jyotirlingas
Main article: Jyotirlinga
Jyotirlinga symbolises the shrine of Lord Shiv. There are twelve of them ” DWADASA JYOTIRLINGAS” at twelve places that are sacred to the Hindus. It is believed that all these twelve Jyotirlingas are “Swayambhus” meaning that they sprung up by themselves at these places and temples were built upon them.
The twelve Jyotirlingas are:-
1. Somnath (Kathiawar, Gujarat)
7. Rameshwaram (Tamil Nadu)
2. Shri-Shailya-Mallikarjuna (Kurnool, Andhra Pradesh)
8. Nageshwar/Naganath (Dwarka, Gujarat)
3. Mahakaleshwar (Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh)
9. Grishneshwar (Ellora, Maharashtra)
4. Omkareshwar/Omkarnath (Madhya Pradesh)
10. Kashi Vishwanath (Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh)
5. Parali Vaijanath/Vaidyanath (Deoghar, Jharkhand)
11. Kedarnath (Uttarakhand)
6. Bhimashanker (near Pune, Maharashtra)
12. Trimbakeshwar (Nasik, Maharashtra)

posted atBloggerspot at my new site
Kumbh Mela

My Naga Sadhu Guru is Sri Vijay Giri Maharaj of Junagadh Akhada , he lives oon a hillock at Film City, it was he who inspired me by his cultural charm, to write about the Naga Sadhus.
He is a former school teacher who gave up worldly goods, renounced it all for the Supreme Soma of Lord Siva.
He knows the Holy Koran, the Bible , accepts everyone with an overall human tag. He is the one who calls me Swami Firoze Shakir Bharti.He discovered me or I discovered him is a strange story . I was going for the Shahi Snan to Trimbakeshwar, but I was going to halt for the night at the Numismatic Museum of my mentor and photo guru Mr K G Maheshwari, on Trimbak road , 9 km s before the temple.I fell asleep and found myself at the Trimbakeshwar temple bus stop.
I took this as a good omen, I saw Sri Vijay Giri Maharaj, I was about to enquire about the Sevagram where the Sadhus stayed, when he surprised me by saying arent you Govinda actors Bollywood designer, that was the beginning of a strange relationship, turned out that Sr Vijay Giri Maharj who lives at Film City has a following among the filmstars, he had seen me on a film set .
We are friends till date , I think he is an excellent well educated, human loving Naga Sadhu, not a con that you meet in Bazars who just want to rip you with their mumbo jumbo..
At the Kumbh about 15% are imposters dressed in saffron, wanting to make a fast buck.
Even hard core criminal , thieves dress up as Sadhu to rob foreigners of their camera equipment and baggage. I met French photographers from the Ardh Kumbh , who were cursing our country , its patchy security arrangements law and order at its lowest ebb .This hurts terribly as I too am an amateur photographer .
Being robbed of your equipment , is one thing being robbed of the stock that you painfully shot as an assignment destroys your inner state of mind.But Nagas are what the foreigners want to shoot, its nothing but shots of their dicks..
And the Ministry that handles this all debars us from shooting the Sadhus, we Photo Bloggers who promote the culture of our country Free are treated as lepers, you have to be a Raghu Rai to get front seats to shoot the Naga Sadhus.. Yes it sucks, photography of the Kumbh is about big bucks nothing else..Photo Blogging is an undiscovered word in the lexicon of Indian bureaucracy.. you have a Times of India Press Card you are in the esoteric Main Stream Media circle even if you shoot shit, as pedestrian images day after day week after week..
I was too go for the Ardh Kumbh, my tickets were booked , Sri Vijay Giri Maharaj was waiting for mein Allahabad but at the last moment I cancelled it to shoot Ashura Moharam in Lucknow.

Sadhu Wikipedia
In Hinduism, sadhu is a common term for an ascetic or practitioner of yoga (yogi) who has given up pursuit of the first three Hindu goals of life: kama (enjoyment), artha (practical objectives) and even dharma (duty). The sadhu is solely dedicated to achieving moksha (liberation) through meditation and contemplation of God. Although the term Sadhu has its roots in Hinduism it is also used for followers of other religions, if they live a Sadhu life. Jainism is a very ascetic religion, and although Sikhism discourages asceticism, there are Sikh Sadhus as well. Sadhus often wear ochre-colored clothing, symbolizing renunciation.
In Theravada Buddhism, the term is used from the ancient Pali root language to denote agreement with something which was said, or after a discourse of the Buddha was recited. It is repeated two or three times — “Sādhu! Sādhu! Sādhu!” — with the intended effect of “Well said, well put, we agree”.[1]
[edit] Etymology
The Sanskrit terms sādhu (”good man”) and sādhvī (”good woman”) refer to renouncers who have chosen to live a life apart from or on the edges of society in order to focus on their own spiritual practice.[2]
The words come from the Sanskrit root sādh, which means “reach one’s goal”, “make straight”, or “gain power over”.[3] The same root is used in the word sādhana, which means “spiritual practice”.

[edit] Sadhus in Indian society
Sadhus are often sanyasi, or renunciates, who have left behind all material and sexual attachments and live in caves, forests and temples all over India.
A sadhu is usually referred to as baba by common people. The word ‘baba’ means father, or uncle, in most Indian languages. Sometimes the respectful suffix ‘ji’ may also be added after baba, to give greater respect to the renunciant.
There are 4 or 5 million sadhus in India today and they are still widely respected, revered and even feared, especially for their curses. It is also thought that the austere practices of the sadhus help to burn off their karma and that of the community at large. Thus seen as benefiting society, sadhus are supported by donations from many people. However, reverence of sadhus is by no means universal in India. Historically and contemporarily, sadhus have often been viewed with a certain degree of suspicion, particularly amongst the urban populations of India. Today, especially in popular pilgrimage cities, posing as a ’sadhu’ can be a means of acquiring income for beggars who could hardly be considered ‘devout.’

[edit] Sadhu sects

A sadhu and his disciple
Sadhus engage in a wide variety of religious practices. Some practice extreme asceticism while others mainly focus on praying, chanting or meditating.
There are two primary sectarian divisions within the sadhu community: Shaiva sadhus, ascetics devoted to the god Shiva, and Vaishnava sadhus, renouncers devoted to the god Vishnu and/or his incarnations, which include Ram and Krishna. Less numerous are Shakta sadhus, who are devoted to the Goddess - or Shakti, the divine energy - in one form or another. Within these general divisions are numerous sects and subsects, reflecting different lineages and philosophical schools and traditions (often referred to as “sampradayas”).
The largest Shaiva sampradaya is called the Dashnami - or Ten Names; sadhus in the sect take one of the ten names as an appellation upon initiation. The sect is said to have been formed by the philosopher and renunciant Shankara, believed to have lived in the 8th century CE, though the full history of the sect’s formation is not clear. The Vaishnava sect with the greatest number of members - and indeed the largest sadhu sect in contemporary India - is the Ramanandi sect, said to have been founded by a medieval teacher of bhakti, or devotion, named Ramananda.[citation needed]
Shaiva sadhus are known as “samnyasis,” those who have renounced, or laid down, while Vaishnavas call themselves “vairagis,” or dispassionate ones. The terms reflect the different worldviews of the two groups: the philosophy of Shaiva asceticism and renunciation is, in many ways, more austere and radical than that of the Vaishnavas. The Shaiva ascetic worldview emphasizes a radical separation from the mainstream social world and complete commitment to liberation from “samsara,” the world of birth and death, coming and going, while Vaishnavas emphasize remaining engaged in the non-sadhu social world through compassionate service.[citation needed]
While sadhus ostensibly leave behind caste at initiation, the caste backgrounds of initiates does influence the sects into which they are admitted; certain ascetic groups, such as the Dandis within the Dashnami sampradaya, are composed only of men of brahmin birth, while other groups admit people from a wide variety of caste backgrounds.[citation needed]
The Naga (Digambar, or “sky-clad”) sadhus with thick dreadlocks, or Jata, who carry swords. Aghora sadhus may keep company with ghosts, or live in cemeteries as part of their holy path (See: Aghori). Indian culture tends to emphasize an infinite number of paths to God, such that sadhus, and the varieties that sadhus come in, all have their place.[citation needed]
There are female sadhus - known as sadhvis - in many sects. In many cases, the women that take to the life of renunciation are widows, and these types of sadhvis often live secluded lives in ascetic compounds. Sadhvis are often regarded as manifestations or forms of the Goddess, or Devi, and are honored as such. There have been a number of charismatic sadhvis that have risen to fame as religious teachers in contemporary India.[citation needed]

[edit] Becoming a sadhu
Becoming a sadhu is a path followed by few. It is supposed to be the fourth phase of a male Hindu’s life, after studies, being a father and a pilgrim, but for most it’s not a practical option.
Becoming a sadhu is a difficult lifestyle. Sadhus are considered to be dead unto themselves, and legally dead to the country of India. They may be required ritually to attend their own funeral before following a guru for many years, serving him by doing menial tasks until acquiring the necessary experience to leave his leadership.
While the life of renunciation is described as the fourth stage of life in the classical Sanskrit literature of the Hindu tradition, and the members of certain sects—particularly those dominated by initiates of brahmin background—have typically lived as householders and raised families before becoming sadhus, many sects are composed of men that have renounced early in life - often in their late teens or early 20s. In many cases, those who choose the sadhu life are fleeing from family or financial situations which they have found to be untenable.
The processes and rituals of becoming a sadhu vary with sect; in almost all sects, a sadhu is initiated by a guru, who bestows upon the initiate a new name, as well as a mantra, or sacred sound or phrase, which is generally known only to the sadhu and the guru and may be repeated by the initiate as part of meditative practice. The guru is an important figure in all ascetic traditions, often being equated with the Deity, and service of the guru, even in the most menial of forms, is considered an important form of spiritual practice.

[edit] Lifestyle

A sadhu performing namaste in Madurai, India.
The ruggedness of the sadhu life deters many from following the sadhu path. Such practices as the obligatory early morning bath in the cold mountains require a detachment from common luxuries. After the bath, sadhus gather around the dhuni, or holy fireplace, and begin with their prayers and meditation for the day.
Some sadhus dispense cures to the local community, remove evil eyes or bless a marriage. They are a walking reminder to the average Hindu of Divinity. They are generally allowed free passage on the trains and are a closely-knit organization. Some were even militant in the old days, and even now, the Naga babas carry their swords with them.[citation needed]
Many sadhus have entered the Guinness World Records for feats of marathon endurance including standing for 17 years, staying in the same place for more than two decades, crawling 1400 km and other similar efforts, in their quest to attain liberation.
Kumbh Mela, a mass gathering of sadhus from all parts of India, takes place every six years at one of four points along sacred rivers in India, including the holy River Ganges. Sadhus of all sects join in this reunion. Millions of non-sadhu pilgrims also attend the festivals, and the Kumbh Mela is said to be the largest gathering of human beings for a single purpose on the planet.[citation needed]
The lives of sadhus in contemporary India vary tremendously. Sadhus live in ashrams and temples in the midst of major urban centers, in huts on the edges of villages, in caves in the remote mountains. Others live lives of perpetual pilgrimage, moving without ceasing from one town, one holy place, to another. Some gurus live with one or two disciples; some ascetics are solitary, while others live in large, communal institutions. For some, the bonds of sadhu identity, the brotherhood or sisterhood of other ascetics, is very important; for others it is not.
The rigor of the spiritual practices in which contemporary sadhus engage also varies a great deal. Apart from the very few that engage in the most dramatic, striking austerities - standing on one leg for years on end, remaining silent for a dozen years, most sadhus engage in some form of religious practice: devotional worship, hatha yoga, fasting, etc. For many sadhus, the consumption of Cannabis is accorded a religious significance.[citation needed]
Sadhus occupy a unique and important place in Hindu society, particularly in villages and small towns more closely tied to tradition. In addition to bestowing religious instruction and blessings to lay people, sadhus are often called upon to adjudicate disputes between individuals or to intervene in conflicts within families. Sadhus are also living embodiments of the divine, images of what human life, in the Hindu view, is truly about - religious illumination and liberation from the cycle of birth and death.
Though some ascetic sects possess properties that generate revenue to sustain members, most sadhus rely on the donations of lay people; poverty and hunger are ever-present realities for many sadhus.

June 10th, 2007

posted at flickr

they enter
where angels fear to dare
unearthly dark powers
with their body piercing
they scare
your inner thoughts
with just one look
they bare
your dreams
they snatch from your
nighmare
yes the malangs of ajmer
a quality
a breed
seeped
in Ya Ali
Ya Khwaja Garib Nawaz
no other mundane
thoughts to spare
the chillum
the dhuni
their dread locks that
dont outwear
this year at the Urus
I will go into kaif
dancing whirlling
spirtually becoming one
with the malangs of Ajmer
hijdas of moti katra
my pictures
with you share
a new flickr
pictorial spam
penning poems
on shilpa shetty
and richard gere
orkut a new prey
in the shiv sena
tigers lair.

June 11th, 2007

posted at flickr

I met her at Chehlum a few years back, at Hussain Tekri Jaorah, her eyes were like translucent ponds , little fishes of her past wriggling , reminding me of a transcience movement, there was a life scripted in the waters of her eyes.. I fell at her feet in a moment of madness asking her to marry me, she picked me looked into my eyes, I like it she said that you are the first man in my life to mock marriage.
She was of Gypsy blood of the Baluchi race, she said go back to her I release you..
I did not look back..
Yes this happens only in India .I never went back to Jaorah again..my feet burn as I recall having walked on the longest fire ramp called Ag Ka Matam..thoughts of this kindly seer soother.. still reawaken those burns of life unlived in a fading moment of a burst bubble.

Comments
Leirdasim says:
that kind of faces are made of life telling itself….

caught between the devil and the high sea
the resilience the indomitable strength
of the buzznet refugee
black box of death
buzznet will be back shartly
online love a disaster
no its no more for me
flickring hope
flickring candle
in the wind
on a tamrind tree
epitaph
on a tomb
of a buzznet refugee
seminal stained
sepia toned pages
for all to see

st1

White is White
Black is Black
I cut my forehead
I am a hard nut to crack
Photographerno1
deleted at Buzznet
with all his backtrack
do you like it
jamie shaef
obqupunx13
I search in a web stack
photo blogging
truly the best
of us hijack
a beer
a toast
to buzznet refugees
one day
we will be back
chemical romance
our souls cannot hack

posted at buzznet refugee group flickr

I am a Hijda , a deleted file that you bought back  momentarily to life from the dead .

a stab a bullet wound , bleeding misfortunes  attached to an arrowhead

a  misspelt journal  bequeathed besmirched besotted unread

yes once my aggrandized megalomania had gone to my head

squirming my way into the mainstream of miasmic memories  instead

i am what i am merely a figurehead my cybernetic notoriety handcuffed to a silken thread

seeking invoking a goddess as i slither whither on my karmic dharmic death bed

tears from a dry stream parched  i shed 

 the color of religious pain  red

 emotional corpuscles

 vying for attention

of this shia thug dumbhead

precariously perched

like a weather cock

in a heart

that is not

a

homestead