The Great Illusion

By: Gus Victoria

That you matter is

The greatest illusion.

That your voice counts,

The mass delusion.

A ballot to court,

A mandate to ignore.

The democracy of oligarchs

Is fantasy they give,

As they fuck their whore.

Money from the poor,

Power to the rich,

They take and take,

They rape and fake

Morality on a payroll.

On our backs

The Congressman’s palanquin,

And the Senator his twin,

Pimps and prostitutes,

Jacking off the Corporate dick.

Keeping us dumb,

Sending us off to war,

Keeping us hungry,

Eyes on a distant shore,

You can distract us,

The media and its circus,

But the day will come,

An end to your fun,

We the people,

Will find our voice,

We the people,

Will break the illusion.

We the people,

Will carry you no more.

World of Shackles

By: Gus Victoria

I know the key.

In a world of shackles,

I have the key!

Promises written in the water

Of a filthy stream

Are the hope of the lost.

Shots of manufactured joy

Are the momentary relief

Of the enslaved.

Industrialization makes possible

The shackled present,

Mechanization of decay,

Abandonment of freedom,

Death of liberty.

Whispered truth

In a hurricane of lies

Is salvation.

Whispered truth

In a flood of tears

Is redemption.

Break your shackles!

Take the key.

Break the shackles!

Be free!

Chasing the Fairy #13

Love is a putrid fruit

To the empty soul

That, dejected, weeps dry tears

And prays false prayers

To a deaf god.

Love is an illusion

To that intellect

That, arrogant, rejects all

That senses cannot account,

Substituting chemical interactions

For Love’s reactions.

Noble is the lost hero,

That rejects those that reject

The illusions they proclaim

And knows truth,

As wheat from chaff,

Worthy is the scholar

Possessing an agile mind

That does not stumble

Upon discoveries,

Made and unknown,

Who walks with faith

Upon infertile soil

That bears miraculous fruit.

Blessed is the lover,

That brave soul

Who is above all

Friend of hope,

Enabler of faith,

Light in the darkness.

My Psyche (Though I No Cupid)

By: Gus Victoria

A sweet smile given

Is a potent salve

For a lonely heart wounded

With love’s errant blows

Battered and beaten,

A night spent with her

Is a year of healing

Spent elsewhere.

Her lips like the Lethe

Erase what came before

Her body like the Mnemosyne

Wakes what was thought lost,

Her love like Psyche

Anchors sweetly the many dreams

That careless flit and fly

Though no Cupid am I.

Still she is mine,

And I am hers

As is this humble verse.