Mariachi Poems | Examples

666 calls

Move in the Dark with animal Stamina
Annuals Be Jamming Ya, 
More on the most HIgh
More Diatribe about the mote 
In the minds eye 
Far as my eye can see
So far they spying me
So Far the ing commotion
Bust the cone enough
Frequently adjusted
You needed me
And we needed Us
For the treatment of our animal Lust

Maybe we can still hide in silence
Maybe beside the Violins
Right beside the violins
Right beside Mariachi
Right inside where you taught me

She a ing meastra
Im a ing maestro
I'm continuous Hoe
Because she said so she into us
Because she said she let go
With a Baby she said so lately
At the BBQ they dont hate cheese
At the table the pass the gravy
On the go I got 666 calls
About how yall wanna talk about it
I took 666 msgs from yall about how
Yall wanna walk around with it
Its not a lie it the bizzness
We hit the ground with it
You know  what
Your getting into with it
Were get in right here where
Your ears can listen

call everyone names

Birthday greetings! Get out of bed.
Go to the river and dunk your head.
Eat crawdad dung, until you are really fed.
Then crank-call your senile Uncle Johnny Fred.

Go skating down the hill on an inner tube.
Call everyone names like bimbo, or boob.
Eat your lunch on top of plate balanced by an ice cube.
Then have your car serviced, it needs a lube.

Have supper at the hutch of the white rabbit if you can.
He has arranged a surprise in the form of a Mariachi band.
Run over to your mothers and fix her a Salisbury steak.
I know that she has for you a lovely birthday cake.

if I had a boomerang

If I had a boomerang, I would fly it out
It would hook faeries and sling them about.
They could ride it back to me and do a jig on my left hand.
My boomerang would be musical, joining a mariachi band.

flimflamming flighty fairyland

Flimflamming flighty fairyland
Hidden in hills, next to solid sand
Subterfuge for elves and king elf grand
Sought out by curious Mariachi band

day of the dead mushroom tree

Day of the dead mushroom tree
Around and around skulls looked at me
I feel their spirits have gone off to play
And yet they still creep me out today

Three skulls drawn on by a skilled hand
I hear the remnants of a mariachi band.
Day of the dead mushroom tree
Do not send grim reaper after me.

Grandmas Bundled Up Cat

she is a bundled up cat
I have to give you that!

all snug and warm
Cozy, without any harm

grandma’s given her a scarf with a bit of blue
bundled cat is wearing her eyeglasses too

aren’t those glasses prescription? I ask Granny Inez.
Yes, but no one will give my cat an eye test she says.

I roll my eyes and the cat tries to follow.
Having a cat take my place is kind of hard to swallow.

You love her more than me, I accuse my Grand.
She smiles and they dance away with a Mariachi band.

Metalmen

They come by,
about once a month, 
blasting out their

tinny cacophony of
Mariachi music, and their guttural roars
of “any old iron? any scrap metal?”.

These
are the scavengers
of quiet urban life,

they occupy a humble space
in our world, they do
it with pride and with joy.

They do us all a great service,
and yet, 
they get no thanks in return.

Theirs is a job which
wakes us all from our mid-morning
slumber, and retreats

quietly from outside our homes, 
unseen. Unnoticed.
Unappreciated.

Tropical Vacation

In our haste to pack, we left winter behind 
Easy to forget with thoughts of paradise filling our minds 
As we depart from the plane we are met with the warmth of the sun 
Relaxation has surely taken over leading to a week of endless fun
Strolling on the beach hand and hand 
Our feet are greeted by the sparkling sand 
As day turns to night a romantic dinner at sea awaits
A perfect evening for love we need to create
Dolphins glide by across the pristine turquoise ocean
All in sync with their effortless motion
The silence in the air is broken as a mariachi band starts to play 
What a pleasure to be part of such a wonderful day

The Pale Mariachi By Fd Ravenskraft

The Pale Mariachi
by FD F.D. Ravenskraft
He plays and delays
and he obeys the tunes that command
His ways. To lust only for it.
the guitars need attention
as the player mentions
that I dedicate his life to it 
to only die alone in the slums of misery
without the pity of the world
my guitar is what you heard
singing with the songs of birds
I broke my mentality
in the smoke of mirrors
 The Mariachi of a Pale Reflection

Grandma Cottonwood

Grandmother Cottonwood’s leaves glistened.
Shaking their silver sides against the breeze.
Glossy and pointedly sculpted, a few listened.
As her main twig rolled up his sleeve.

I had not seen a talking tree since Babes in Toyland.
Expected some marching and a mariachi band.
The woods were unnaturally quiet and stark still.
North wind providing a coldish autumn chill.

Mexican Dance of Romance

Mariachi beats are unmistakably Mexican, sassy as salsa
Hot and spicy, the sombrero on the floor hops up and down
Carnival dance battle begins with the traditional janabe tapatio
Crowd marvels at the precision of the couple’s moves

Courtship unveiled as the dance progresses, he is pursuing
His efforts refused at first, her China Poblana dress flaring
Female dancer finally accepts his advances, her handsome man
He gives the crowd a happy wave, showing off his charro suit.

St Milt's Culinary Mission

                          The Mission in Milton Creek, I’ve acquisitioned
                          Converted into the town’s culinary mecca
                          Aptly designed and scenically positioned
                          Inspired from ancient recipes revived Azteca
                          An enchanting bistro tastes of old Mexicana
                          To lift spirits, share and warm the hearts
                          Paintings by Frida Kahlo the valiant Chicana
                          Every Sunday, an Institute of Culinary Arts
                          Christened ~ Saint Milt's in his memory
                          On the adobe walls his poems will be hung
                          Milt will live on here with love and glory
                          Mariachi folksong praises shall be sung

                          Welcome to St. Milt's Culinary Mission

Mr Electric Blue Spider

Who is he? They were asking in Montana, Bandicoot. 
It was Mr. Electric Blue spider, and he was a beaut.
He kept creeping along, pretending he did not understand.
Besides, he was on his way to hear a Mariachi Band.

Seriously, do you know him? My neighbor asked me.
I thought she was too curious, we call her Widow Zee.
He’s an out-of-towner, a stranger, I said in my best voice.
I hear that he is a widow man, his deceased wife was Joyce.

The White Macaw

The white macaw thought he was the ruler of the land.
And he was until the day they were overrun by a Mariachi band.
The arrogant pushy female lead singer declared herself queen.
The cats were easily swayed with kibble, did not think her mean.

The white macaw thought of flying off to a foreign place.
But his new suit was not ready, it was to be trimmed with lace.
When it is all stitched up, I shall be ready to go, he declared to all.
It was never finished, for his seamstress grandma knew how to stall.

He Has the Whole World In His Hands

Nero has the whole world in his hands.
He has the whole wide world in his hands.
He is the utmost cat, straight from the sands.
We are amazed at his knowledge of foreign lands.

Meow Meow the merry cat sang about her hero.
That’s a religious song, her cousin told her in cat talk.
No, it’s a song I made up as a tribute to my friend, Nero.
Her cousin pushed her into the water at the end of the dock.

What did you do that for? Meow Meow asked, mad now.
Because no cat has the whole world in his hands.
But guess what? That night Nero came to him with a bow.
Holding the whole world while singing in a Mariachi band.

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