I Can Ozymandias

I camped with a gypsy near the city of Napolitos.
He said: Seek the top of the shadowy staircase
A statue there is wrought in the likeness of ponderous burritos
Close by hangs an iron gate, which leads to a poet’s chamber
Reeking of indulgence, tamales, and the perfume of pathos
The door carved in gaudy silhouettes; walls awash in hues of insanity
A tiled veranda pours a pathway; it is scuffed with footprints and scorn
A figure hunches atop a toadstool, he amuses with a delightful ambiguity
His melody saturates a gin-addled city; his plans have a wispy veneer.
A proclamation reads: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!
Scribed by that nebulous negotiator, the North side balladeer.