In The Beginning Was The Word

In The Beginning Was The Word, originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1.

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photo courtesy
jean marc gargantiel

jmgargantiel.zenfolio.com/p132891686

I stay at Bandra and this is the ugliest part of a fishing waterfront called Chimbai that it connects at one end to Salman Khans house and the other end to Joggers Park hardly matters to my pedestrian tale posturing as a blog.

Many years when we were searching for an independent home we were shown a place over 900 sq feet , cheap and within our budget 25 years back, but there was a hitch, it was a shed that had been demolished made into a building , we decided not to take it up and bought a place in another fishing village Danda.

I bought Jean Marc here as I really did not know where to take him , and from here I took him to Juhu , Mr Ashok Tyagi Oshos office and back to Bandra.

Actually I go blank trying to write a poem on Jean Marcs pictures they are better as pictures than the poems I will add .And this I say with sincerity , I have been at home all day updating my set on Street Photography at Flickr and linking them at Facebook with new poems I wrote I have lost track the number of poems I wrote today.

Words is the only God given wealth I have , simple words , no bombast , no pompous words in the dictionary of my mind, I shoot pictures with my eyes shut , I can poetize pictures with my eyes shut too.

I walk barefeet but in and around Bandra and dangerous places like Chimbai also Behrampada I wear slippers , as you dont know what lurks here in this mound of despair, and I am a diabetic with a diminishing eyesight I close my eyes shooting pictureS to be able to shoot darkness when my time arrives.

Jean Marc has in a way shot my despair and the sadness of my life , and positively I think all the shit lying on the beach , could be the state of my mind littered with words..I dont need to search for them , they are wanting to get out of my fragmented genius of a brain.. perhaps as pedestrian as the flesh on my feet.


beneath
my tired feet
lies the pain
of centuries
my past
my present
my future
lies buried
a hope
in an unsprouted
seed giving
birth to a
whispering weed
reminiscing
why words dont flow
out when my head bleeds
a positive spam
my face book feeds
unpoetic wants poetic needs
a picture is a poem a poem
is a picture
provided
not as a photographer
but as a poet you
learn to read than
the imagery captive
in a picture
with your vision
you have freed

to jean marc gargantiel
holistically through
his pictures
my soul he heals


finally to pompous pedantic photographers their souls embedded in a camera club ..who keep on harping about having a vision to shoot pictures , a tip.. you need vision to see a picture too...after you have shot it.. ha ha