Madre

...of course I saw her
she carried me within her
she juggled miracles
she gave me life.

She fed me hunger for learning
she taught me to live life
with a humble, yet adventurous curiosity
she taught me to be free.

She would sit on the couch, late at night
and listen to Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Vivaldi
I'd crawl to the living room, and curl up to her
as I grew older, it changed to Beethoven, Dvorak, Bach.
... and I don't really know if Classical music makes children smarter
but it sure is the only music worthy, to remember one's Mother.

She taught me to be fair
she taught me to be humble 
... well, she tried
but most of the time I was just too damn stupid to listen
always busy with the busy
but I guess something stuck.

She taught me to treat everyone equally and well
particularly those least favored in life.
She tried to teach me the way to the Lord, tirelessly
How could I not believe? Only the Lord could have given me this miracle.
I have no doubt, my Mother was Heaven sent
you could see it in her faith alone.

She taught me love is unconditional
she taught me to treat women respectfully
she taught me the power of mercy and solidarity
she taught me to be bold.

All this with the warmest embrace
the kindest eyes
a mischievous laughter
and a beautiful smile.

It was home
no matter what country we were in
she always made it a home.
I know this to be true
for when I became homeless (by my own choice)
I cried silently, every night
Now I do so again
and will for the rest of my nights.

She taught me to accept who I was
She showed me Brasil
She showed me Mexico
and how we live in a world
full of magic and beauty.

She showed me almost everything I love.
I was her youngest son
she loved me so much
she was so proud of me
she always said so.

Today I hope and pray
her teachings help me continue living
a simple life, worth living
now the sun is going down, giving way to the night
and any glimpse of happiness is hard to catch
today I saw her die.

Kaleidoscope

No more to say
and no more to do.
No places to go to
no songs to sing.

Just the cold
damp coffin.
Just the hole in the ground
where my body decomposes.

No wine to taste
no salty skin to lick
no mountain to climb
no life to live.

It's over, slowly
it's all over
this life
as tasteless as canned food.

I lay motionless
on a cardboard box at the bus station
same as on a king size bed
at the Westin, downtown,
like a lukewarm fuck.

All this effort
this road
these hardships
airports and passports
only to take a wrong turn
knowingly.

All this time
all this blood
all this work
paid back in sleepless nights.

All this anger
all this hate
and all this worthless love.
Always getting up
to fight again
to try once more
one last ditch effort
one last shot
like a blind man
pretending to see your colors
looking through broken kaleidoscopes.