the fruit

the fruit in my hand

is for love i like to expand
but i hesitate to give
for there is a worm inside

the skin shines with colour

multiple and the wave within me grows
larger but i will, very soon, yield
for the sake of the seed

hidden, deeply buried within
to grow, to give
more fruits for my hand
and songs for all around

19.05.2014

not normal

if not to look at a floating cloud on the sky

or the face of the water in the river
flowing both within and around me
can be considered a normal human

then, sure, i am abnormal to be shunned

and, soon, taken in for incarceration
in that asylum as incapable of living
a normal life except to sign my last will

while the river with all the uploaded urban

sewage flood into the ocean to poison
maim and soon kill the source of cloud
and the living dead enthroned as normal
 
19.05.2014

at the edge

most of the moments these days

i am free of that terminal illness
the masses name, ‘healthy hope’!

these days i let my intuition and pangs

guide me when and where i catch
my crabs, creatures with protest
eventually yielding to my cravings!

at the edge neither the rules

written down by the modern
aristocrats nor noises the masses
spit out direct my directions!

from nothingness to nothingness

i slide with no care
like a kid on the slide
in the urban playground!

and at the edge of my ridge

with neither wants nor hope i stand
with readiness to exchange
the loin cloth, my present pair of pants
for my birthday suit, to let go my pant!
 
henry victor      04.05.2014

with clowns around

seated beside the lake with no waves

beating the shore, or above the surface
bleating fish i see neither wrinkles
nor the need to crusade for life

neatly pressed while clowns pass by

at times nodding at me to acknowledge
my absence elsewhere in the market
and crowded malls and other clowns

mere passers-by, often with sombre face

and more of others with firm intent to mask
face true, rooted to their heart, with more
to tickle faces stuck to glue of the past pain

henry victor      03.04.2014

 

 

purity of souls

an amazing togetherness i witness

in the functioning of the mother earth
and the father sun, her eternal partner
to maintain the purity of her springs

despite the quick gathering of impurity

in the brook running away from source
the place of her origin, like refugees
and immigrants towards wealth

as the loaded muck in the river

running to the ocean but never
beyond to eternity, the rain cloud
for a re-birth of another pure soul

henry victor      27.04.2014

Note:
Dedicated to Mario Flores
and Gitanjali Victor to be wedded
on May 17, 2014.

mediocrity

she runs with blinkers, changing

not her course, her dream
with him riding on her with similar
pads and becoming one with speed

like a jockey on the horse racing

a harmonious linking
of two unlike souls, one
from the surface of the earth

and the other from a cloud floating

but impregnated not with rain
a sure unproductive providence
together also a mere vapour

henry victor      17.04.2014

 

 

walk through the woods

i walked in the woods, your dream garden

hoping to have a glimpse of your face
that i may lay at your feet my weight
caused on earth by trickery and cruelty

i searched for your soul in this Eden,

this forest where angels dance with you
but haunted also frequently by women
and men with premeditated brutality

i observed there the stinking human shit

the remains of an unidentifiable animal
the partially decayed corpse of a pig
and a deer hiding from this intruder

henry victor     25.05.2002