Tiger scratched Rima
Lima got very angry
Tiger was surprised!
If you're looking for a taste, unique,
it could be the lima bean you seek,
but if I hear you scoff,
and say its taste is not enoff,
I recommend the leek.
Great Grandpa planted lima beans.
A pot of limas and some greens
will always make my day.
It's just a memory away.
I've got limas in my genes.
Nice shoes
and a fancy saddle
a beautiful horse
a gorgeous, gorgeous horse!
Oh to be, love and excepted
a graduier way for me to feel
a gaudy way for self expression
the silk you see is for real
owning and caring for
the whole ordeal
shined my shoes
they shine like polished steel
people of this hemisphere
an earthy more healthy
way to play
to sing from such a position
all can hear what I say
every sorted gesture
ah rhmns for singing
not just any ole way
this one has meaning
Oh til then
on we go
if you need
I'll told you so
aint no love
like you and I
When the world
opened it's eyes
a covering of clouds
in the sky
fruits for us
portioned to be
the offering of
my love for thee
You must think I am crazy
lap steel guitars
string benders
Bassey Grooves
and drums
Perched on a cliff,
Towering from the sea.
Embracing a cool breeze;
Lima is the city.
Miles of pueblo jovenes,
Surround her heart.
Like a flock of sheep,
Not wanting to part.
Slums lay there
In shades of beige.
When they really want
Be red with rage.
In Cono Sur
Dreams fade in and out.
Children run free;
Through fields of drought.
In hillsides huts
Families strive
With endless hope
But never thrive.
Fear falls upon
Their honest faces
Perils of reality dawn
In this dangerous place.
So different from
The city's heart;
In these forgotten slums
People fail to start.
In Miraflores,
Privileged are the people.
Abundant are the shops
And churches with steeples.
Men here hold keys
To an absolute power.
With steel arms of might
All they do is devour.
Climbing up the submit
On backs of their countrymen
They control liberty
Through venal assemblymen .
The streets are wide
Lined with houses of white.
Men pruning hedges
How lovely a sight.
Life in Lima
Is a glimmering façade.
Most live in slums
Or her many esplanades.
This is the Lima
They want all to see.
Grand desert city
Down by the sea.
The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.
First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows…
all the colors of the rainbow glow
in the mist of Pacific sea's
hectic days and disco nights
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
Lima's life flows
from Palacio de Gobierno ...
in measured meter from the fountain glow
amidst a Catholic sea
spirits rise of the children of the sun
cleansed of their faith by papal decree.
Lima wealth flows
its chic denizens prance baroque boulevards
barricaded behind razor wire's show
life for the wealthy addressee
distanced from the hovels of El Salvador
and the festive strum of the mariachi.
Lima has a pulse
arterial and venous it flows...
as buses disgorge invaders, colorful, slow
Shamanism lies in a Catholic sea
proud, head held high, clinging to He
beat into the sand at the ocean's lea.
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