temples, cults and faith

many temples are erected

on graves of human intelligence

giving lip services to humane values

with no concern

for those subjugated

many cults hurt

the wretched poor

removing the very livelihood

of the small like cancerous cell

eating up all with no dirt

left at the corridor

many faiths elude reality well

providing a vision to exploit the little

appeasing conscience

the divine within

fooling self until the final reckoning

henry victor     11.04.2003

posied to live

 

lion stalking for that running gazelle

leopard living for throat of a zebra

heron motionless at the edge of the pool

with quick beak prepared, poised to kill

hawk with deadly talons held closer

to heart, watching in the grass below

a large enough target to a quick plunge

and equipped to hold, poised to kill

surrounded by impulses for violence

i wonder whether i should simply

surrender to that principle: nothing

lives unless something is poised to die

© henry victor     03.03.2003

small and brief

a bacterium, a virus

bugs so small

causing damage so huge

a smile, a kiss

an orgasm, a brief joy

alleviating sorrow so large

 

© henry victor

sandwiched

sandwiched between the jagged immortality

and the feeble mortality

i carry within me the great sea

with her pounding waves

on its sandy soil

are scattered shinning shells

where even a silent shrimp

find a safe home

in surrounds of rocky reeves

while elsewhere

with those changing seasons

including the fallen leaves

and broken branches

the abandoned agricultural implements

witness the deer carcass

protected by a coniferous forest

henry victor      11.09.2003

Jesus, the Nazarene

when with joy and confidence shouting the name

Jesus, the Christ in small churches and tall cathedrals

marketing his name and brand, while others

advertising their  products to consumers in home

and far away in overseas, Jesus of Nazareth

the man who hung on the cross with loincloth

softly spoke to summon with tone

so temperate that one can hardly hear

to come and live with him, to see for my self

the birds that have nests and foxes that have holes

while he, the son of Mary, the Nazarene

had neither a place to live nor possession to protect

reminding me i have nothing to lose

neither any to market, nor to advertise

but only a cause to live, a life

to suffer pain to offer more for the little

© henry victor     26.01.2003

toad not croaking!

 

like that toad my little grandson brought
from the park you sit in my unkempt garden
with fewer flowers, fruits, and overgrown
tomato and lettuce plants now in neglect

here i neither see you nor hear your croaking

except, vaguely, as i parse your speech, breaking
of light and sound in my dreams i hardly
ever remember as the morning sun so deadly

towards my night i embrace, dearly, with affection;

for it keeps my eye lids shut and feet in resting position,
my invisible heart and mind complacent of the margin;
thus affirming your invisibility, a faith in great precision!

henry victor       01.09.2013

floods and sludge

cooking food, cleaning pots, pans, plates

and other cutleries surged, overflowed
like a spring river in my May days
and nights with no pause even to evaluate

either their relevance, or the quality of my life

that now carried floods and sludge with speed
though i, like brother Lawrence, the sage
applied my heart and soul working to bleed

without counting cost but rejoicing

in my washing feet cracked and dirty
a relevant, realistic imitation of Jesus
than that ritual on Maundy Thursdays
 
that made only my ego bloat year by year
but neither the present work with great love
satisfies my inner person whose still small voice
i hear not very clearly to change my path

henry victor      21.05.2012