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
Monday, April 12, 2010
Yes I Dont Compose I Simply Shoot
Mumbai's Slum Dog Skinhead
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..
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
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
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
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 ?
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
Oh! Jesus Save Me
123,321 items / 850,899 views
i see hate
evil breathing
seething
around
you gave
me life
but the stink
of death from
living souls
abound
oh jesus save me
from getting drowned
not you
but it is Satan
as your replacement
they have crowned
your spiritual shops
shutters they have downed
confused going round and round
still on the cross you are bound
they have locked you up
thrown away the keys
your soul they pound
enemies of humanity
a new god of hate
they have found
your world once and for all
they have trounced
your life your resurrection
the have renounced
a new world order
they have announced
the word of god
they have denounced
Khuda Ke Bandhe
123,308 items / 850,878 views
gale me phandhe
wok kaise dekhenge
safed kapde kale dhande
muh se mithe dil ke gandhe
ankhen hain aur phir bhi andhe
Exhuming a Cosmic Poets Grave
a dangerous
situation has come up
after the cosmic
poets death
there was a major shake up
they had buried him
under one of these road
face-up
posthumously
now famous
they want his
remains
to be dug up
they want to build
him a mausoleum
money donated by
hijras beggars
gays of usa
cross dressers
of europe
they want no fuck up
google buzz facebook
twitter flickr their
forgotten poster boy
pin up ..he blogged
he blogged
till he died
of a broken heart
his wrist all
cut up
for the sake of
a woman
who had deleted
him from
her fucked
consciousness
the bazar bitch
the trollop
who was caught
trafficking
little boys
thrown
into the lock up
her heavenly
endowed guy
finally got aids
what was left
just would
not get up
moral of story
must always keep a back up
before the prices jack up
Two Painted Clowns
one beautiful fair
one wheatish brown
two painted clowns
one a rising sun
one a setting sun down
one owns a smile
the other a fretting frown
a born guru
she already
wears my crown
talent
inborn
inherited
even time cannot
clamp down
the machinery
of her head
even fate
cannot shut down
humility is what
i gave to her
as unlearning
photography
she wont let
me down
more important
as a photographer
to be human
a poet
a shooter of pain
than
be a pompous pedantic
photographer renown
living in the hearts
souls of people
you shoot than
a No1 in boom town
dedicated to another guru behind the camera of life
Sanjay F Gupta
Dil Mange More
123,306 items / 850,447 views
waiting
on the threshold
of my destiny
open doors
to be what
i always
wanted to be
human
up close
as the blood
of a father
into my
father flows
his inheritance
his heritage
i chose
i will be marziya
a bit of asif
a bit firoze
the future
holds me
in her palms
fist closed
when
the time
comes to bloom
on the soul
of my ancestors
i will have grown
a seed with love
that was sown
now his words
as my thoughts
all my own
yes destiny's child
to the shakirs
i am on loan
i too
will hold a camera
make tears
flow out of
metal and stone
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
blood and bones
hussain is humanity
engraved in karbala
on a hallowed
tombstone
a blog
within a blog
beyond the
unknown zone
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