They Shoot Horses Don't They.

This horse who gives rides to kids is perplexed he finds Man very complex Man a product of misplaced Sex.

Had his father drunkenly not forced himself on his mother a case of sexual excess he was accidentally born a pain in the neck a total wreck

Once in his hey days he turned women on he looked like Gregory Peck.. But now sadly he is on a drunken drug addicted trek. Oedipus Rex

Juxtapoz

She Thought I Was A Mystic

she asked me politely
sir can you read my
future tell me what is
in store for me ,,she
begged me pleadingly
will i get a good husband
caring who would give
me love take me as his
wife for my inner beauty
a husband who wont
beat me or demand
dowry a husband who
wont burn me she
went on frighteningly
i am a poor hawker
selling her wares on
the street but i have
dreams deep within me
i heard her silently
i touched her head
father like blessed her
wishing her a good
husband finally ..
two children a nice
home in the jhopadpati
seeing her smile ,,i shot
this picture stole her soul
leaving her to her thoughts
that she was more stronger
than me ,, in her faith in
her resolve than me ,,,
as she became the heroine
of my stray street shots poetry

The Muslim Beggar Childs Pain

sitting beneath a tree
a beggar mother you
see pondering to be
or not to be on the
other hand in silence
a little baby tiny legs
born in captivity wonders
bemusedly this world
of pain torture suffering
hate sectarian strife
that they call humanity
did i make a mistake
the womb was far better
its darkness comforting
motherly .. i was being
nurtured fed ..not anymore
says she ..withered milk less
teats sucking the life out of me

Lab Pe Khwajah Ka Nam ..The Low And Lowliest of Islam

considered untouchables
they come here to be
 touched by the great
 holy saint of Ajmer ..
blind deformed
crippled their so called
humanity on a crutch
he gives even when they
silently stand and stare
as such to hope like a
 drowning dream his
apparition they clutch

the khwajah gives
generously
lives reborn
realigned
re touched

oh great saint
for your ocean
of humility
hospitality
 thank you
ever so much

Dad Once I Grow Big You Will Never Have To Beg

i shall become your eyes proudly he said
holding in his tiny hands his blind dads
stick white and red ..but than what can
one do who gives a blind man jobs
so they begged to earn their daily
bread..all around hollow election promises
yeh sarkar woh sarkar ..the fear the dread
no one touches the heart of humanity
once they won the elections they all fled
looting raping the soul of mother india
we the people watching silently held
captives in chains as the poison spread