Buenos Aires

As I wander the streets aplenty

I stare in awe at the city's bounty.

Overhead the buildings towering

Shine gloriously with their gold trimming.

The angels singing from their perches

Beckoning, they seek your patronage.

Carved perfection in marble and stone

Their essence captured yet somehow unknown.



And down another street I turn

New wonders abound for which to yearn.

Though here the shops don't stand so tall,

Yet their colours are cause of enthrall.

The bright structures do inspire-

Cause gaiety, forgetting mire.



And as I round another corner

Majestic music drifts on over;

Mirthful melodies to please the ear

As people gather, drawn in near

To hear the flutes and guitars and drums

Allowing the beats to overcome

Invokes within us peaceful musings

Of loves and losses and summer flings.



But even as the crowds do flock-

Still many others take no stock.

For though their pace be leisurely,

They have else they needs or rather be:

To San Telmo, at the street fairs;

Perhaps on Subte, to sell their wares.



Down to the tunnel did I descend,

To take the Subte to its farthest end.

Bust'ling and loud, peace there is never;

Sounds echo through the tunnels forever.

The squeaks and creaks and cracks of the tracks

Mimic the murmurs of folks at my back.

Whipping and spinning around corners-

Doors ajar grant I witness the wonder.



Envel'ped I paid no attention-

Abruptly I reach'd my destination.

Out from the darkness I did climb

Onto the calle, where church bells chime.

Immediately I'm accosted

Beggars and pedd'lers not abated!



Beyond, I continue on my way

To Recoleta, I shall spend my day

Among the tombs and mausoleums,

Serving History as its Lyceum;

Speaking for Argentina's belov'd

Evita's dreams forever confronted.

Eternally Heroes remembered-

Lama's legacy always admired.



Alas it's time, I must depart-

This place bestowed all it can impart.

By a new route I shall return

To behold new sights, from which to learn.

Through the park I start to wander-

Am overcome by its grand splendour!



As I pause to reap in the beauty

Earth's bounty I find has achieved full glory-

The trunks of the tress grow meters wide;

The boughs- an umbrella, doth shade provide.

Colors possessing such vibrancy

Like Alice wander I into fantasy.

My mind racing, infused by passion-

Nothing to stop my reckless abandon!



As I spin from reality

A tango dancer I'd rather be!

Passions ablaze, hearts of fire

Consume each other, ne'er to tire.

Faces so close, two become one-

The tease of the dance never outdone!



Eventu'lly I am distracted

From my dreams, no longer enacted

In my mind, by a scent so divine

As to tear me from a tango so fine.

As the smells come wafting o'er I find

That I cannot be appeas'd in my mind

Lest I head o'er to the parilla

Whence I discover meats fit for Hestia.



Their meats renown throughout the world

They were not lies- all you have been told!

Served juicy and rare, perfectly

Cut, flavours that cannot be equally

Match'd, only masked by seasoning

And marinades cause ruining!



To it's guests this city keeps giving-

It's chest full of treasures is unending.

Tango dancers, meats for royalty,

It's architecture and diversity

Of people and places, exuding

Beauty, music nothing less than pleasing.

History and culture emanates

Whence leave have I no desire to take.

Pocitos

When you go to Montevideo

I know where you can find,

A welcome home where you can come

And everyone is kind!

At Pocitos they know how to treat vos-

Always an asado too,

Where you can party and eat some carni

-That's what Martin and Nacho do

But when you want quiet, you can find it;

Peace and tranquillity...

You can unwind with peace of mind

In their garden of serenity.

When I'm around you know I can be found

At my home away from home,

Where friendly faces turn up in all places

The best!  --Uruguay's own!

My Twelve Days in Rio

On my first day in Rio my friend said to me,
"Let's go hit the town and party!"

On my second day in Rio a Brasilian said to me,
"Hop on my bike and hold on tight and we'll tour the city!"
Then he showed me how to party...

On my third day in Rio Sugarloaf said to me,
"From my peak I view the streets, the mountains and the sea!"
And we watched the city party...

On my fourth day in Rio our driver said to me,
"You're the most fun I've ever had, while as a cabbie!"
That's 'cause we know how to party...

On my fifth day in Rio my friends said to me,
"Let's score some drugs, we'll have some fun and make felicity!"
And then we shall really party...

On my sixth day in Rio the police said to me,
"You'd better fucking chill or we'll end our hospitality!"
We still hit the town to party...

On my seventh day in Rio Carnaval called to me,
"We're thousands deep, we fill the streets; stronger than the sea!"
Then it washed me into the party...

On my eighth day in Rio my instincts said to me,
"You ought to leave at home your camera and money!"
To Lapa- a giant street party...

On my ninth day in Rio my conscience said to me,
"Now you have no camera 'cause you were foolhardy!"
Still we went to another party...

On my tenth day in Rio the bouncer said to me,
"Welcome to the Sambadome, enjoy the grandiosity!"
Man, they sure know how to party...

On my eleventh day in Rio the Sambadome spoke to me,
"Feel the beat, find a niche, and live the fantasy!"
Then he and I made our own party...

On my twelfth day in Rio my body said to me,
"It's been fun, but you're insane, I'm ageing too quickly!"
Shit, Rio knows how to party!

The Conspirators

Sleep withholds from me its rest,
Loss' trophy of conquest.
Together they conspire
Causing mis'ry and mire,
To keep me from moving on,
Prisoner of tranquil calm.
Unable to move forward-
Time holds me still- a coward,
Like Atlas! He was sentenced
To pay forever, repentance.
Eternally forced to bear
The weight and pain and fear.
Seconds feel like hours past,
Yet this week still feels like last-
Trapped in Time I cannot hear
The words you offer in my ear-
Away from me they drift and fly
Drowned by Lament's silent cry.
So too my tongue cannot find
What it once would twist and wind
Unable to speak aloud,
My words have become enshroud
Muffled in a blanket, woven
To keep my words unspoken,
By the conspirators three
Who thrive and feed on mis'ry.