Mexico Lindo crowds my soul <br />A land where colors rule the day. <br />Its people have small hope or goal. <br />With poker face life’s cards they play. <br /> <br />The teeming markets brim with spice, <br />Chorizos smoke and maize abounds. <br />Its maidens soon succumb to vice <br />Of greasy bellies, harsher sounds. <br /> <br />A caballero plunks guitars <br />As heavy cotton sashes glow, <br />By light of moon with craters scarred <br />The peasants breathing slow and low. <br /> <br />Old Mexico is just a dream <br />In gringos' eyes used to the sun. <br />Sombreros shade the hidden seam, <br />A garment tough as whip and gun. <br /> <br />Mexico Lindo beauty carves <br />From roses red in blood of fears. <br />Its vision bound by wires barbed. <br />The rain is but collective tears. <br /> <br />I will not go to Mexico <br />To celebrate the day of death. <br />To graves that open, reap and sow, <br />Beginnings end like choking breath. <br /> <br />Mexico Lindo crowds my soul. <br />A land where colors rule the day. <br />Its people have small hope or goal. <br />With poker face life’s cards they play.<br /><br />Liilia Talts Morrison<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mexico-lindo/
