Innocence takes a Rap

Innocence takes a Rap
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1

This is an old deleted memory I saved .


This is my 400 th poem at poem hunter.com, I never ever wanted to be a poet, nor a photographer , I never wrote a single word before my advent on the internet.As a kid in school I was considered brainy as I read a lot.I could see things unseen to the human eye, pain beneath the makeup, cries and dried tears on hankies, my mother and her love for my father, my father and his demonic love for the Other Woman.

So I took a camera to decipher on the emulsion of my soul the transcient nature of Mans suffering...I shot the Kumbh Mela, Blood Moharram and Weeping Faith of the Shia, I shot the insides of church and the litany of love for the Messiah on stained window panes, I shot Sufis , pierced eyes, pierced souls and slaughtered tongues, I shot the King cobra on Naag Panchami and his fangs just a whisker away, as I believed that the Camera is Shivas third eye.
I shot street life but what really shot me down was the girl child begging at Mumbai Traffic signals, from morning to dusk, haunting eyes, perpetual smile, love that will soon vanish away, yes being a pretty girl child is a greater risk than AIDS , I have seen young girls selling paper flags on our Independence day, later I would see her hardly 12 years and carrying a child within her childhood.

This poem is my tribute to the girl child do see this picture of a smile and a burnt cheek on the face of Poverty.Her mother has put a hot iron on her cherubic cheek, gets more alms it is said.
Sympathy the Curse of Humanity.



Innocence takes a rap

a kick, a hit a slap

a burning branded mark

on the cheek

childhood in a trap.

tears for sale

traffic signal kids

rest of life is a crap.

plundered innocence,

raped mutilated,

sodomized while

time and timelessness

takes a nap.

blood marked

pre menstrual

machinations

on the map.

little dead bodies

dead hopes

buried

in burlap.



I am crying such is the nature of Man..I am a father of a Girl Child.
Old memories of my first stint at poemhunter...