The Clown Cried

By : Gus Victoria

The verse was one delivered by a master,

Improvised truth practiced to perfection

On a stage made home

That was never so,

He knew love and admiration,

He knew struggle and derision,

Dark shadows played

Wherever light was,

He was a clown

The world adored,

He lived and gave,

He struggled and he paid,

Ever the gentle soul,

We’d never know

The sadness within

That consumed,

That devoured

The noble man.

One day the sun rose

To never set,

The Clown cried,

But the laughter,

The joy, the memories,

They never died,

And we would never forget.

The Heart Knows No Labels (Valentine's Day Rant 2014)

By: Gus Victoria

It has been quite a while since I wrote one of these. Always the romantic I have often been accused of being in love with love. Such accusations I cannot deny and wear as a sort of badge of honor. Love is to me a force unlike any other. It can conquer hate, make friends of enemies and sustain faith and hope when they are flagging. Because of this fundamental principle I hold as ideal I have learned to hate this day: February 14. I see it as turning what should be natural and free into a compulsory act stripping in the process the depth of the love or, at the very least, making muddy its pure waters. Intent is key and I see much of the good replaced by commercial coercion on this of all days. I usually just quietly ignore the day and wish for it to pass quickly. I pay heed to societal norms that dictate I should show love to those close to me, as if I did not any other day, but every year it gets more difficult to buy those flowers and send those gifts. I’d much rather surprise my girlfriend on February 12th than give her the expected on the 14th. Still, old habits die hard and I continue the play the part expected of me. Every year I hate myself a little more for it.

This year I was doing some reading on the martyr, or rather martyrs, that have given their name to this holiday. The names, dates, and stories are quite varied and there is, as usual, the pre-Christian pagan traditions that we have taken for granted the church grafting their holidays onto. One that stuck with me though is the hagiographical story of a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II for performing secret weddings for Christians in a time when they were being persecuted and such a union was not only illegal, but could be dangerous as well.

Whether or not this particular priest lived and the story of his martyrdom is true or an amalgam of many stories like it, the lesson is transmitted loud and clear nonetheless. A state cannot dictate the union of those whom love has touched. There will always be people who recognize this and will be there in support willing to risk even danger to allow the heart to follow the path it is destined to follow. When love, and not hate, is allowed to bloom all participants share in that joy.

This courage struck me and filled me with a quiet inspiring awe. The impish side of me immediately jumped at the irony of using this Christian martyr story of forbidden marriages to highlight, on this day, the current state of affairs in the world. Many couples, with a love no less pure than the greatest love stories in literature and history, are being forbidden public acknowledgment of what their hearts and indeed I would even boldly say heaven has joined. And on this day I seize on the irony that a lot of that opposition comes from the very institution whose heritage is replete with stories of dangerous and forbidden unions done in the name of love.

I hate to use the term “homosexual couple” or “same sex marriage” because to me they signify a difference and create in the mind a barrier that will always have to be overcome. Barriers that love, true love, has never recognized and has always overcome. Yet, such is the time we live in that these distinctions are made and these people are in many places being denied a basic human right to allow others to share in the joy that they have discovered and to proclaim to that world that they have found their love; their partner in this adventure of life.

On this Valentine’s day I seek to meditate on that. The simple joy of finding the one you love. The one person in life that you wish to grow old with. Gender ought to have no role that the government or any other body of people can dictate. To do so is to proclaim that we were made wrong, that we are somehow broken. There are some that believe this and I honestly feel a deep sense of loss for them. Rather than enjoy the beauty of the world as it is and seek to make it better they bemoan a lost ideal that is only in their heads. I choose love and I choose to celebrate with all those who have been fortunate enough to have been touched by its warm glow. All that wish to get married should have that right. If the state denies it, there are others that will not. Instead, they will share in the beautiful gift.

Happy Valentine’s Day. May you find that person that completes you. If you are fortunate enough to have already found them in this chaotic life, then congratulations! The heart knows no labels.

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.

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!

Messenger, Be Gone

By: Gus Victoria

Tortured messenger beyond the shade of knowledge

You toil in memory to keep alive

That which best is forgotten.

A spark here sets aflame

An inferno of regret

That casts dancing shadows of doubt

To play on the face of the fateful beauty

To whom we’ve given all.

We drink the wine of joy

Soured to despair

Poured by unsteady hands

Into a chalice made

Of once-broken glass.

We drink deep,

And dare not sleep,

For dreams wake

Demons thought slain

That we cast out in vain.

No messenger,

Best be gone,

Leave be the tattered memories,

Leave be the shattered future,

Be gone,

Be gone,

I drink.