MADE IN PARAGUAY
In "Asuncion"
the saddest guarania song
is "paraguayan"
TANGO
The father of the porteño tango
he's not born argentinian
he is a son of France...
SAMBA
The samba from Morro Carioca
survived for the world,
Long live Mama Africa...
ROCK
The rock dance, song music
runs wild surprising
on ice rock...
SPEED GONZALEZ
In Juanita canteen
mariachis and tequila
and bursts of laughter...
WALTZ
Oh! if i danced
oh! if I played
the viennese waltz...!
Categories:
mariachis, allegory, allusion, analogy, appreciation,
Form: Free verse
SAMBA
The samba from Morro Carioca
survived for the world,
Long live Mama Africa... !
ROCK
The rock and roll
runs wild
on the rocks...
SPEED GONZALEZ
In Juanita's canteen
mariachis and tequila
and bursts of laughter...
WALTZ
Oh! If I danced,
Ah! If I played,
The Viennese Waltz ...!
Categories:
mariachis, allegory, allusion, appreciation, extended
Form: Light Verse
South of the border near Mexico way, she felt betrayed
Mariachis music filled the salty air where she stayed
She was to wait welcoming hands to a foreign land
Her Papa and Abuela were like gold in her hand, yet
She limped with knowledge, courage made her glad
The God of her mother would be her God.
Love, in season of winter, lifted her to clarity
Rain and snow, skylight and solitude gave humility
The mountains in Carmel, NY, shared spring blossoming
She'd been on a journey, fit and free becoming
Reflections of the sea showed The Source
All she asked arrived in portions deep and fierce.
Forgiveness became a song given up as gift
She stirred and perfected each given dish
One, and only One conspired, swelling her joy
Who makes a man with love she'd enjoy?
She bask in splendor of her mother's prayers, and
Stood firm on power, surpassing earthly human care.
*
Categories:
mariachis, addiction, adventure, appreciation, baptism,
Form: Couplet
I will mourn for you today,
and ache for the comfort
of when I used to lay my head
across that Buddha belly of yours,
and you used to sing me
your drunken lullabies
(though I knew no difference
at the time).
And I will listen
to this song:
mariachis' high-pitched gritos
accompanying the blaring
brass-tasting trumpet players.
This time, when I see you
dancing to it, sombrero atop
your silver strands,
you won't reek
of that amber-colored
death
anymore.
Categories:
mariachis, abuse, addiction, bereavement, grandfather,
Form: Free verse
Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the gracious lilies and flaboyant tulips
as they spent their time brightening lovers's eyes;
yes, open up your garden where the red sun dips,
and the voluptuous lovers hug and passionately kiss...
rising in me a desire that takes me back to youthful days!
Down the rusty path, flanked by pines and fir trees,
the blue-jay parched on the lowest branch, is quite and waits;
at exactly twelve o' clock he starts warbling as a siren wails...
we have become friends, and he inspires me to write melodies,
but without a pencil and music sheet I must retain those notes into this active brain,
until I get home and write them down while he shelters himself from he misty rain.
Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers:
show me the stately sunflowers and the wild roses
growing taller than any plant seen in the wind-swept wilderness
as the mariachis play their song to console a marchioness sitting in a breezy corner;
these aren't musicians found in a parade, they are peasants with colorful costumes...
soon someone will say," Alla manana, Segnora. " as the calm returns on the shore.
4/16/2012
Categories:
mariachis, friendship, music, nature, me,
Form: Rhyme
The ringmaster left
but the carnival stayed in town.
Erect, proud, empowered people
stride by living the Crayola dream.
Awash in color, characters in the screenplay,
the scene played with aborigine like dream walkers.
No surface left to its utilitarian plight,
all stroked and stoked with the creativity
of the artist, all crooned to by boombox
and skateboard smack, or the concrete
slap of a mariachis’ feet.
The burnt bright white light shivers
to a Hendricks strum, and the caffeinated come
one by one hooked in to hook up,
to the juke boxes sixties twang.
Children play on Aztec snakes rising
from a soft foam of green with
mosaic skin and glass eyes
freed from the restrictions, the confines,
the confounded, gay, straight, bi, free
bleeding poetry.
Categories:
mariachis, adventure, art, childhood, family,
Form: Free verse
It is a hot afternoon at Pancho's Cantina
And Rosa is sitting at the bar, mariachis singing
Cause the juke box is dead
She is the red rose in Pancho's Cantina
There is no telephone, so you can't hear it ringing
She is letting the tequila, get into her head
She once had a hour glass figure, that is about out of sand
A lot of make up to cover up most of the hurt and pain
But she smiles at all the men that come her way
With another tequila in her hand
To help drown her pain
She wishes she could just run away
And it is not all roses in her bed
But that is where she makes her living
And she hates her life
But it keeps her poor family fed
She think that men do all the taking and damn little giving
Serving many, knowing she will never be a man's wife
Categories:
mariachis, lifemen,
Form: I do not know?