Great Victor Poems

It is a mirage, yet I can reach it
Not of water, but of desires
Not of roads, but of life
Still, I fail what it requires
...

Do I hang here -
Still for love
Or just sheer folly
...

We made him here.
He is a son of this African playground, nurtured to stain this world with the dirt of his wisdom.
His words echoes from depts of muddy ambitions, his trails are bound to the wooden sit of freedom.
...

I know so little, yet I'll tell you all.
Eve I did call her - for she was the first
of an awakening lullaby.
She held a part of my being
...