Man And Woman Estranged

no it was not
love marriage
nor a marriage
arranged
on the footpath
of life two strangers
in sleep god had
rearranged
both perhaps
drunks who
met at the
 local tavern ..
now cosmically
dreaming
hoping life
will change
a camera robs
 souls asleep
should not
sound strange
i shot their
picture
god gifted
me this poem
in exchange

dedicated to akbat simonese my guru of street photography
a momentous pause poetically interchanged

The Cutting Hand

I told glenn
bro you dont
have to circumcise
your hand ..
you love india
i understand
dont get worked
up take it easy
i took it him to
meet salman
khan at bandra
bandstand
than to lands end
for a breakfast
grand ..if you
have a camera
fuck you dont
need a magic
wand ,,man
is a footprint
on sand

Jony Castle Wode House Road - House Where Keith Kanga Lived

It was known as Khatau Bhuvan

My humble beginnings ..our second home in Bombay  in the 50 s .. my father had kept my mom at a  humble hut in Kurla  Bakhar on a crematorium I was an year old.. than we moved here as tenants of late actor Nawab Kashmiri..

Keith Kanga stayed next dooor to me.

Vimal Patachrige whose father worked for Gazdar Taj Mahal Hotel stayed on the second floor ..he was from Sri Lanka .. they went back.

I hope they connect to me  one day. His sisters were Sunetra and Rithika.

updated
today 14 july 2014

Jony Castle The House Of Dreams
Now Away From The Consciousness
Far Away Distant They Seem
Only Two Members Left Of The Team
Vimal And Keith Kanga ..moved away upstream
Leaving Ray Framroze and a Beggar Poet
bound to their daydreams
part and parcel of a cosmic scheme
exorcising a moment souls to redeem
the barias modys pavris all part of
a crossbeam..a house of memories
where god was great hope was supreme
dedicated to my friend vimal patacharige
as this poems theme ,,


The red arrows is where we stayed .. on this wing , the next wing was where keith kanga and vimal stayed ..early 60s

Photography Is Nothing But Mind Over Matter

what was blank space
you add wisdom on
a platter churn it mix
it through the wires
of time and space
into the vast ocean
of humanity scatter

The Baby Dreams

a world
where bombs
dont fall from
the skies
when heavens
scream
a world
where religion
faith go against
the stream
where man
usurps another
mans patch
of land
death misery
devastation
bloodstream
hate extreme
calling for help
cries go
unanswered
so it seems
the promised
land god
wont redeem
beyond the
barbed wires
a hateful regime
killing unborn
babies unborn
hope he plots
he schemes
time is up
patience
loses steam