lay me to rest

do i envy those who pass
from life to death
with that certainty of eternity
a greater mansion to occupy

do i carry sympathy for those
who lack in life that faith
that alleged passport to the beyond
with a send off from a chapel here

many questions my mind may probe
but, for sure, i have informed my wife
and our daughter: that none
from holy club sprinkle phoney poetry

instead my simple frame
be laid to rest naked in a quick flame
with no words that my mind
shall be burdened to interpret

long and longer sleep

after lying on that bed for over three decades
suddenly i woke up to a shocking awareness
that my snug sleep for such an extended period
was actually on a rock in the wasteland

whose geological origin, or chemical composition
little i had known; sleep for so long attracted not
my eagerness to explore, while many eerie snakes
and slothful insects visited this space in my absence

but now in my abrupt wakefulness, will i
turn, then, to another couch, or curse the old
before i continue sleeping into a longer sleep
that perfect merging within the womb

with gratitude

my body, like that reconditioned
japanese liteace, earlier, i owned
works beautifully well
pumping blood, poetically

as if crafting a Shakespearean sonnet
though the scars of the surgeon’s scalpel
on my left fore arm, left leg, and chest
could not be covered, unlike in my van

with white paint, a colour i cherish with black
to contrast my present moments of orientation
from that earlier instances of disorientations
that tore my soul with betrayals

painted and etched in my heart, as a Blakean art
while i was still in the intensive care
of the men and women dedicated
to establish that rhythmic beat

transcending the wrinkles
those character lines of my skin
suggesting a panoramic view of my life
dotted and sheltered with love

crab without claws

outside, she is slim and pretty
as a black labrador
with shorts and shaved legs
attracting onlooker’s stroking

at least, in the secret cave
of his mind and soul
craving for that illicit sleeping
when his wife is out of town

but constantly she runs
into her hiding as a crab
running into the crab-hole
unaware of her missing claws

taking cover under a law
that is tilted towards lies woven
and spiced with that sacred
sympathy for the she species

killing

stomping, hard, on it
i killed the silver fish
innocent
that didn’t come to hurt

but my superior weight
on my boot
just squashed it
for no apparent reason

except, that i am a human
with superior right
to decide on life and death
in this anthropocentric universe

where i have, already, murdered
the creator
of the silver fish
to create him in my own image

Note: Gitanjali Victor's art at the age of 13 in Summer 2002.

lust for space kills

little less than eleven
hundred square feet
housed comfortably
the three of us

and after the one
who took the most space
in that cozy house
decided to fly away

the remaining found
lust too cramped
in that tiny heart

hence they set up
that more than twenty-two
hundred square feet

ending with, that strain
to pump blood
threatening to stop
to prematurely kill

road less traveled

assist me to float
on the waves of your ocean
rather than swim
in my own direction

guide me to glide
on the wings of your angel
instead of choosing to fly
in heights not so detrimental

direct me in your route
even if it is hilly and snaky
lest i choose my lane
of ease beyond risk

emptiness

a million dollar diamond
and a priceless pearl
these were my possessions
as i continued my journey
to that well lit city beyond
with deathless life

i guarded my wealth
even as i passed through hills
and vales to enter the region
with chasmic ravines
crossing breaking ice bridges
often falling and then crawling
and creeping again
to ground that was harder
but only to throw at the end
the two, and myself
jump into that emptiness
never to be heard
never to be reported

refusal to merge

my smaller, marginal ‘i’ refuses that merging
with that larger ‘we’ that is part of the still larger
and unlimited, ever expanding elastic cosmos embracing
the little ‘i’ as the ocean readily cuddles the rain drop

and my little revolts, then, are speedily stated
in my careful scrubbing of the tiny oil drop
on my driveway, left behind by my daughter’s car
that has just pulled out from my parking spot

and also on my spraying lysol, on my toilet seat
every time my friend pays a social visit to my abode
as if he has left a graffiti on the wall like a restless teen
protesting that we grow

reaping not the return

is it my tightfistedness
that you punish
by taking away from me
that which fills my heart

i had many other things
to fight for to safe guard self
when you broke open
my home, my soul to steal

today I have no more
energy to battle
my destiny that brings
me, hardly any delight

i ploughed the field
and with my own hands removed rocks
to plant seed, and watered it with sweat
but to harvest, someone else you sent

life enhancing energy

i see that life enhancing energy
passing through my fingers, feet
arms that embrace, and lips that speaks
courageous kindness to act,
continuously re-filling and re-fuelling my soul
through my eyes, ears, nostrils and the skin
that osmotic membrane
when my mind sets the sail
on the winds of the right perspective
while the heart let goes greed
to gather not more than the food
for a single day, that manna heaven drops

a journey

i found a little self alone

in desert mountains

with no foot path

suggesting a tried road

but with plenty of sandy soil

and in heart

a need to move forward

to town

to re-connect his soul

by connecting to the highway

that lead to a land not bad

so he kept his plod

through trial and error

trusting his vision

and wits of his mind

letting, also, his intuition

guide

to his utter surprise

soon he found himself

walking

in a homeland with no trees

but a home

where his father, mother

and daughter

bathing

in separate wells

with only that of mother’s

had some comfort for anchoring

to overcome fear

lest they fell over the cliff

or tumbled into the well

while the highway to town

hardly a distant to walk

henry victor     06.06.2010

protection provided

for every feathery bird in this earth
you provide a perch, a branch to rest
and to protect, a height, with a flight
escaping the crawling enemy that prowls

every feeble fawn visiting the earth
is born with a dappled coat to hide
from predators prying for easy prey
to deny your positive absent presence

every sprouting seed on this earth
is encased in a protective pod
that you expect to cast to grow
to mature and multiply her kind

even the creeping chameleon change
colours, to blend with her surrounding
to prolong the provided life in abundance
before giving her to another freely to feed

garbage

two separate loads of garbage
i carry to tip at the dump
one in black to rot
the other in blue with a potential
to rotate before i, myself, perish

hope: merge with the large

money, always, easily slipped
through my fingers
lands that i tried to own also slid
quickly from my hand

the bed i slept in the night
someone else secretly
occupied in the day

the juvenile bird i cuddled
in my bosom
to give warm comfort and a nest
flew away to build her own

my remains too, soon
the fire will consume
leaving, perhaps, my soul
to merge with that larger soul
that welcomingly smiles
from behind the veil

with broken wing

like a gander escaping the winter
that had been shot but not killed
i’m injured in my soul
and i have lost also my company

the troupe perhaps is unaware
that i have fallen on the wayside
with a wing broken and unable
even to flap, to keep me warm

my brokenness benefits none
certainly, not the one who aimed the gun
nor that onlooker who cheered him well
will it, then, be salvific for the goose

and tonight i’m puzzled
floating in a puddle of million questions
whirling in my mind, keeping me awake
and my spirit camped for too long

together we walk

my soul is grafted into yours
even as your heart flows into mine

from distance far away
we travelled separately just for a short time
to fuse together
as if two brooks merge
to become a single river
running over rocks and valleys

falling, frequently, great heights
before continuing to that ocean
walking hand in hand
with your head full of gray
and mine only a toque to keep it warm

then we would have passed that stage
to cover our hair with black
walk in business suits that restrict
and cell phone in hand
as if we are gods that run the world
to its eternity, forgetting
that we are just two mortals
like our parents before who are no more

dark night of the soul

with the loss of my love
i have also forgotten the art to pray
and god too, to me, is now remote

the scriptures, those ancient books
that kept feeding my faith in god
and sustained my habit to plead
no longer attract, nor excite my mind
to exert an impact on my soul
to reach higher and heavenward

my world both inside and outside
has collapsed completely
with that lack of care to love
and to be loved by god in human

the herb that once healed my heart
has now poisoned my blood
threatening also blockades to my road
pushing my soul to the darkest night

tears

tearing my heart into two
easily you drank, sucked
all that life giving blood
ridiculing the good of many years
simply dumping me with tears, for another

sucking his nipple with hand on his penis
rejected, then, that early love
authentic, and matured with much tears
easing your many miseries of early days
those tears, making you strong like iron wood

waves

stone falls
ripples and waves
toad observes

the lost garden

the garden I sweated for over three decades
(working so hard, with regular watering and weeding
ever caring the old plants, and planting new seedling
as i walked and talked daily with the bloomed flowers)

suddenly decided to walk away with another
(to enjoy the embrace of a rogue gardener
when he, neglecting his own, strolled into mine
to stroke and caress my blossom in the dusk)

depriving me, my soul and heart, of love
(that fragrance that inspired my heart beat
rhythmically to that distant drum that made
my work easy, providing also bliss in leisure)

living beyond triumph

in your world, every victory
i see carrying a defeat
wanting more
and bringing more

teach me, therefore, the art
of living beyond that triumph
that i may spend none to shun
a potential beat

pack my mind with poise
that i may walk the foot
in silence, paying no notice
to the throbbing of heart

fill my marrow with calm
that marks that distant cosmos
that i never yearn
to journey, nor to fix

make my eyes blind
both to tumult and success
that my heart may cease
the craving to find

gazing sky to graze you

as i stop to listen to the heartbeat
of those i am expected to serve
and those connected to my life,
(marked only by that simple fact –
a geographical accident –
while some may suggest
a transcendental incident) –
i clearly fail to feel your feet

even as i habitually name you
in that absent presence
there are those who protest
and many more ignore
my naming that appears too comical

elsewhere, in my life, i see
those who came to defeat me
stand defeated
but i do not think victorious
in my mind that likes to shun pain
that can creep like a leech to suck
my blood until i fall dead
hence i refuse to praise you
considering that game so silly

so, i stand here early this dawn
gazing at an empty sky
grazing for a star, or a cloud pattern
in which i may sense you
that may lift my soul
and prompt my journey to continue
until i fall dead
or, cease to consume more emptiness

Note: I watered and waited for eight years to see these flowers - over fifty blooms -in my living room.

living the dying truth

the mud they slung on my body
has penetrated into my soul
through my clothing and skin
confirming my vulnerable mind

hence i pray that you install
in me the mind of christ
to let go all that comfort
i seek, while against pain i rebel

help me drop off those garments
in which i have put too much trust
until i stand, nay, hang in loincloth
and to you, my soul, i entrust

assist me to part my wife
my best support, and daughter
my joy, and stop my cry for ties
that ties me to a sore filled world

inspire me to plod ahead
in my journey to golgotha
that life through death
to enliven the dying truth

my twisted leg

while resting off my usual walking trail
under the same tree that for years
gave shade to my soul i felt

an ugly earthquake shake free that shade
into a rotten shadow that fell
on me breaking my leg and

dislodging my heart to a stoppage
but one that soon lifted to let my spirit
continue its walk

now with a twisted leg dragging
a naked wounded foot hard
for the other fit foot to shift

on this journey
of me now looking
for my boot a root

imperfect faith

i see the like-minded people
like jelly fish jamming jointly
confirming the ancient truth:
birds of the feather flock together

even a thin transcendent faith
fails to enable a going beyond
the race, language and culture
that blinds the common factor

that same blood flowing
in that multitude of variety
of humans with varied
caste, colour, and creed

ps. Photo provided by Gitanjali Victor

lost coins

a silver coin and a gold
i did carry, carefully, in my wallet

first, i lost the silver coin
that i found after some pain
(that troubled my soul, my heart)
and a diligent search

then, i lost the gold
and this time in a shit pit
(where i also lost my mind)
to chase the lost coin

ps. Photo provided by Gitanjali Victor