Empty Throne

By: Gus Victoria

Endless is the Ocean of Guilt

Infinite in depth, it carried

The ship of dreams

Once when it was known as a different sea,

The sails, bright and full of wind then

Caused the vessel to swiftly fly on the waves

Commanded by Fate,

Dictated by Destiny,

Whipped to monstrosities rivaling Scylla and Charybdis

By the sweet voice of my Siren,

I, lashed to the mast,

A modern Odysseus  

Whose vision was equaled by old Epimetheus,

Knew not what he threw away,

Knew not what he left,

Dreams that haunt,

Hopes as ghosts,

I sailed alone

To a lonely shore,

You did not follow.

I waited in vain

For the day

You realized a jeweled throne

Waited in my heart for you,

A place of honor

I never showed,

Until you were gone.

A place that as I live

Will gather dust

And be ever unfilled.

Pain deep is dulled

By time relentless,

Though such wounds never heal,

I hope for that Ambrosia

You once gave freely

That may forever be lost to me.

A mortal where once I was divine.

Incomplete when once I was whole.

The Game

By: Gus Victoria

On a cold winter’s day

The frost of January

Gives way to the dreams of autumn

Staged on the green

Of a gridiron mirage.

There the warriors

In their colors arrayed

Take the field against the foe.

Among their ranks you will find no Hector,

Not an Achilles, Ajax, or Aeneas takes to battle,

Yet those in that stadium,

The massive descendant of Vespasian’s monument,

Shout as if there those mythic heroes

Would come to life again

And clash in combat once more.

These are athletes that compete,

Speed, skill and strength as currency

Easily spent to purchase

An opportunity,

A chance at Victory,

That sultry, seductive goddess

Elusive to many,

Loyal to none.

Again the cheers ascend,

Greater and greater the sound,

The stands tremble,

The very earth shakes,

In knowing anticipation;

The Game has begun.