tasted life, or wasted

i waited for my ship’s sailing

that never left the harbor, and i wasted
my time watching noisy gulls flapping
and fretting and sliding and singing

and i returned home regretting

spending those hours not learning
the skill of pearl-fishing, or to practice
netting fish to fatten my wallet

when i return then to my beginning, my end

will i be considered as one wasted, or tasted
life, I know not, for going only with the music
of my sisters, fellow creatures, in my soul

henry victor    05.06.2002

building your rule

my mind just for a moment, like a bee

on the flower, grazes along your throne, the grace!
yet, i like you to exert, to dictate, with force
the journey, the direction and content of  my soul
 

with its luggage, my being to build your rule
uprooting my heart from amidst that rat race
of erecting larger ware houses, storage space
storing the harvest of abundance with tilted scale

that also renders your seat irrelevant in a world

where Jesus and his colleagues receive a lip deal,
and no more, in a scope where shopping for gold
is, for someone on the trail, a substantial meal

henry victor     14.08.2013