posting in ghost towns

i drive many hours

through ghost towns, abandoned

poetry groups, planting words

with pants and images

with wings to flutter

inside hearts like butterflies

decorating the walls

hosts have left behind

for guests passing

through zombie towns to post

their songs; but the brainless

seldom see music

leaving me to dance alone

with not even a single applause

testing my inner mettle

to roam the towns

bereft of taste and depth

of rational, observable substance

henry victor           11.12.2018

veneration of mediocrity

like foxes and hyenas go for left-over, humans

for unknown reason, have evolved

into a tribe who favor, hire, venerate

and casually canonize the mediocre type

this new tribe build monuments

for un-sportive and un-adventurous

jacobs, the sons of rebeccas

at the expense of forgetting and rejecting

and even, discrediting and denouncing

esaus, the sons of isaacs, those adventurous

sportive, creative, and also non-conformists

to bland blank values and lifeless customs

henry victor 

bliss in ignorance

in ignorance

and more

in ignorance of one’s own ignorance

there is a perfect bliss

the bliss of a tortoise

inside her secured, secluded shell!

in ignorance

nothing is ever complex

for all are too simple

and for all

one has a simple answer: God’s Will

surfacing from the shallow waves

on that sea of ignorance!

but drown me, O my Master

in the depth of the ocean, the confusion

that is generated

from the multitude

of the multifaceted truth

or in that drowning, that death

there is, for sure, my bliss

my own restlessness!

henry victor      21.09.2007