Stranger Dreams

By: Gus Victoria

The ideal in sacred parchment

Of philosopher nobles

Served as fertile soil

Free of corruptible elements

To the child of centuries

Whose own ideal was stillborn

In an Iberian cradle.

Bellicose and proud was the glory

Of ancient histories

Unknown and unforgotten,

Bent to the future,

Malleable as heated gold,

Worth far more,

Heavier than the leaden skies

That draped the day,

An unknown stranger in his own land,

He walked with vision,

He hoped

And he loved,

Each step on the path he chose

Closer to discovering

That which was hidden at birth,

Felt near

And left untouched,

A force pulling him forward,

Confusing him to action,

Filling a head with dreams,

A mystic chord unbreakable

Binds him to his land,

A future unwritten

Makes him lift his pen,

To write not alone,

But with the voice of his people,

The cry of millions,

He writes words they speak,

He believes works they do,

He sees a future

To share with the world.

In Mexico is the future born.

In Mexico is the world welcome,

In Mexico the stranger is no more,

There he is finally home.

Let Us Not Grow Old

By: Gus Victoria

Let us never grow old together,

The fickle winds of life,

Calm or tempestuous,

Let them blow against us,

Our little ship sails ever on,

Steady, adventurous,

Let us never make port

Where friends do not call

Or friends we do not make,

Let us be known true,

Loyal and steadfast,

Our bonds not to break.

Let us discover,

Every day an opportunity

To explore a  new mystery,

To experience a new reality

To search for knowledge

And in ignorance never be.

Let us live,

Not as king and queen

In luxury and vulgar excess,

But as Baucis and Philemon,

True and faithful,

Sharing what we possess.

Let us love,

Never sparing a moment,

Never surrendering to doubt,

Ours will be to others,

A light we cannot suppress,

That will never go out.

Let us not grow old together,

Let us grow young,

The life we lead,

The love we share,

The truth it proclaims

Grants youth,

Always young,

Always in love,

‘Till death do us part.

And a new adventure begins.

Images Experienced

By: Gus Victoria

Drunk on the future.

Running from the past.

Lost in the present.

An icy fog of uncertainty

Paralyzes passion.

A crystalline clarity

Is shattered.

Fate is mocked,

Buffeted by heavy winds,

Eroded by doubt.

Failure is courted and wed.

Truth is lost in fancy.

We turn and turn

Endlessly we circle

One step forward

For ten around,

Two steps back

For every revelation.

More doubt

With every stipulation.

Love wanders the fields

Of forged misery,

The forested wisdom of fools,

The glacial depths of loss.

Love anchors hope,

That hope may never,

In the storms of life,

Be ever lost.

Viva Mexico, Nuestra Madre

By: Gus Victoria

We dance today

For you,

We celebrate today

For you,

We are together today,

For you,

Five centuries you’ve been mother,

To lost children,

Five centuries you’ve been slave,

To lustful masters,

Five centuries you’ve cried tears of blood.

We rape your land,

We deny your past,

We destroy your future,

You are mother to us;

We praise you

As we deny you,

We idolize you,

As we forget,

We proclaim your beauty,

As we court foreign appeal,

Calmly you wait,

Quiet your strength,

Deep your resolve,

That someday

We, your children

Will take our inheritance,

And proudly proclaim your virtue,

As together in voice we call to you our mother,

Mexico! Mexico! Mexico!

Viva!

Crimson Fields Future Yields

By: Gus Victoria

It’s a long, long way from Tipperary,

The mademoiselle from Armentiers

Has long been silent,

No broken French

Spoken through halting English

In nearly a century,

Quiet the fields have been

Overgrown with grass and flowers,

Life green and colorful

Where once was dark and dead,

No vaporous clouds stalk nearby

And Johnny has long since marched home,

Still we remember

The sacrifices made

As in blood was paid

The balance of the struggle.

Not for ideals,

But to found upon crimson fields

A future of potential

Nearly destroyed by industrialized death.