Monday, October 11, 2010


There is something kind and beautiful
The aura of the Carioca people
Some are working slave jobs
Exploited by the upper class
Oppressed, earning unjust wages
Struggling to support their children
They work their fingers to the bone
Without recognition or reward
No benefits, no insurance, no promotion
Monday to Monday the poor are taken advantage
Still nothing stops them from smiling
Their spirits seem to be singing

It’s hard to explain what drives this city
What keeps them going, attempting to rise above it
Above their circumstances, corrupt government
Lack of opportunities, equality, freedom
Favored minorities rule the state
Status and class determines success
They seem so happy under sad circumstances
The parties are endless, every day is a celebration

The beautiful beaches, faces, bodies
Conceal the poverty
The wild forests, the Indians, the culture
The rich vegetation, the exotic animals
The statue of Christ embracing the city with open arms
The samba steps born in the feet of the people
The food, the music, the arts are for everybody
Misery fuels the running, nothing is taken for granted
Pleasure is casual, gold coins for the soul
Everybody dances, young and old, in sheer joy
Simple but nonetheless amazing cultural displays of art

The people are modest, shame on the elitist mind
Everybody hits on everybody, life is a big party
There are no rules, only guide lines to live by
To protect the people but never to injure the fun
Entertainment is imperative in a hot blooded town
Protected events, nobody pulls out guns

Organized crime takes place inside the Favelas
There’s an understanding
Between the law and the criminals
The bandits pay tax to the cops
For the freedom of trafficking drugs
The police sell weapons and intel to the villains
In the slums
Discretion is demanded from the community
Instead of toys and book bags
You’re likely to see teenagers carrying weapons
In the project streets
Gang members parade around with machine guns
This form of intimidation instills fear
And maintains the peace in the trafficking neighborhoods
But the fun never stops, gang lords throw parties every weekend
Filled with musicians, dancers, fireworks and beautiful people
Church members walk around handing out flyers to the addicts
Its another world, to live here you must understand and cope

Politicians manipulate the poor, take from their welfare
The justice system is as bad as the criminals, robbing everyone blind
You can get away with anything if you pay the toll of silence
We don’t know who the good guys are, so we trust nobody

So poor in a country rich with natural resources
I try to understand what motivates the underprivileged
These amazing human beings, hospitable, heart warming
Hard working, enduring prejudice, racism
Black skin, brown skin, yellow skin, white skin
All suffer equally
Everything seems harder to achieve in this city
Things Americans take for granted
Are oftentimes impossible for many
For some, a house, a car, a career, a vacation
Is only a distant dream
Here sacrifice is a major part of life
Flushing dreams down the toilet daily

The hard workers ride crowded buses
Struggle to fill their bellies
Minimum wage isn’t enough
To afford the basic needs of a society
But somehow millions of families make it every day
Here everything is a sacrifice
So the food tastes that much better
I feel so modest among the people
No one cares where you went to college
It’s about morals, virtues, substance
Who you are as a person
Here the streets never sleep
The people never rest
Always awake, always ready
To battle this war they call life
In Rio



  1. Amazing!

    "No one cares where you went to college"

    Yup. That says it all, doesn't it.

  2. Thanks! I`m glad I reached you with this one.


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