refusing the crown

what makes me a poet

whose thoughts are drawn

and constructed in series

of ‘broken line’

that many in portals

of academia

may eventually sideline

considering it a wasted talent

is it my inclination

to refuse the crown

with my protesting

to act as the crowd clown

entertaining

not like a man

with a herd instinct

with no mind to own

henry victor      17.04.2007

marching to a different beat

i do all the times

in academia among assess

that carry heavy books

in ecclesia among foxes

that carry a single book

and also in malls

in the absence of relevance

referring to books

i march to a different beat

marching to a different beat

i do all the times

suffering pain

with loss of gain

and pushed out of circle

until much later i stumble

alone, and stride

re-coiling

and re-circling

putting me back

into the loop

marching to a different beat

i do all the times

in the company of Copernicus

Jan Hus, and that ‘us’

the single most catalyst

to save multitude of ‘them’

otherwise thrown out

from that distinct sphere

marching to a different beat

i do all the times

and walk towards the cup of poison

to be served as a reward

and towards that crown of thorns

to be worn

but naked

as i march forward

towards a contemporary cross

to be condemned

henry victor      24.04.2007

flowers in the wild

the flowers in the wild

turned down my invitation

to sit beside the flowers in the vase

in that grandiose palace

open merely for an hour

or, may be, a little more!

preferring cold

and a windy breeze

they flatly refuse

the flattery gossips of guests

and the wrangling

within the vase

henry victor      06.09.2007

settling with unsettling

something bulky in my indoors,

like an active turtle, revolts

within, refusing to my settling

in the depth inside my shell

refusals and revolts of my soul

against the menacing ‘isms’

religious and secular in texture

including a broader universalism

they are nothing but a ‘herd-ism’

camouflaged, making me move,

though, like a tortoise in slow speed

reconciling with an unsettling self

© henry victor     31.12.2003

road less travelled

road less travelled is the path

i want to traverse like the Man from Nazareth
refusing to flow with the flow
that had its benefit package and perks!

road less travelled is the path

not for the feeble and frail in heart and in soul
but only for those with a mind that Man
christ carried emptying emptiness of the world!

road less travelled is the path

of transformed non-conformity flowing
from the choice consciously made like the Nazarene
in wilderness battling the tempter!

road less travelled is the path

to death of that ego, the picking up the cross
to follow a crucified Master, the plain son
of a man with no place to lay his head!

 

 

 

 

purpose and Peace

i stand before you with wants

not unknown to you though my need
the deepest, is to blend with your will
where i will find my purpose and Peace

this will make me stand apart

from all blending too quickly happens
the greatest temptation for men and women
serving an Aaronic altar wearing a Mosaic mask

they choose  the least resistant path

providing the masses peace, an absence
of conflicts, an added music for dance
and above all the idol, a golden calf

assist me to take the risk, that discomfort

of sailing in turbulent waters wearing a garb
of nonconformity, adding an extra disquiet
for a journey into your being lacking a handle

 

untamed buffalo

alone i sit in the cave by the roadside

to the wilderness far beyond the urban
dwellings but i feel no seclusion, unruffled
like a wild buffalo, indifferent to breeze

gentle and the stormy winds making noise

but occasionally turning my head this way
and that side with ready un-readiness to build
my nest, or clean up any mess, mine

or those around through either commission

or omission caused by un-human indifference
to hear, to see, and to feel the pain
of bleeding life in paths much trailed

there neither the silence of the wilderness

nor the singing and dancing and hoarding
of the city invite me, inspire me to rise-up
to walk, to work, to fill, and, at the end, spill!

09.06.2014