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Evan Leonhard Oct 2018
En la oscuridad de noche
Las estrellas cayeron del cielo
Las plagas de los Tziztimime
Rabiaron contra el mundo
La tierra tembló
Los vientos aullaron
Los mares se levantaron para consumir todas las cosas
Las personas gritaron con miedo
Pensaron que toda esperanza estaba perdida
Pero Huitzilpochitli los escuchó
Y bajó del paraíso para ayudarlos
Él inmovilizó la tierra
Él calmó los vientos
Él azotó los mares a la sumisión
Entonces él convocó el sol
Y empezó un día nuevo

In the darkness of night
The stars fell from the sky
The plagues of the Tziztimime
raged against the world
The earth trembled
The winds howled
The seas rose to consume all things
The people cried out in fear
They thought that all hope was lost
But Huitzilpochitli heard them
And he descended from heaven to help them
He stilled the Earth
He calmed the winds
He whipped the seas to submission
Then he summoned the Sun
And began a new day
A poem of hope inspired by Aztec mythology. The second stanza is the English translation for the Spanish above it.
There's a vato in the milky way sporting a fedora and a stash...
I saw him from a mountain .....high somewhere between New Mexico and Arizona .....smashed.

I took a pic to pinch myself
get proof of what I'd seen.  
And sure enough when
I zoomed in there
he was, looking really mean.

I never knew the Aztecs had gone to outer space....but I have proof... I can show could never miss his face.
Aztec Andy's abode was a dorsalfinned cathedral.
Inca Ian was his neighbour on banks of the Fongufeasle.

Inca Ian's residence was  a portholed volcano...
Or were their gaffs prefaffs of adobe & gold? I dunno.

IOUs on Andy's quipu arrears of human sacrifice,
when he encountered a jaguar, nonpouncer most polite,

decked in snazzy golfslacks & proffering sage advice
in Morganfreemanny, mammalian-masonic matey voice.

'Alrite, Andy?' spoke Jaguar, 'Say, I heard from Inca Ian  
you're all out of Olmec odalisques; devout, nubile, heathen

volunteer tzompantli t'malanoint w/ treefrog slobber,
then slit from stem to stern w/ your consecrated stabber

- not best joboffer...  P'haps most puissant Pashungo
is new deity for thee, Andy, now's the time to unfollow

virginovorous Ningovice, current blessing provider
for whom gore congeals upon temple table like sunflower

toms drying. Taboo tabasco  of Mayans' sprayin' midriffs
never tamed Ningovice's terms or propitiatory tariff.

You should switch to Pashungo, mate!' the Jaguar softsold.
'Ian did' - w/ pythonic aplomb  his tail pointed to portholed

volcano yonder. Aztec Andy wasn't born in the Bronze Age,
there'd be some mass grave formula & clause to assuage

this god on four legs, Pashungo. Andy owed it to old idol
to first unscroll small print in codex of Gaznumplepecol

to be informed  of penalty plagues Ningovice might visit
upon his crop of afterdinner lint & upon the spirits

of Andy's ancestors, Ningovictecs all. 'Worship Pashungo
today for limited introductory gift (no jaguano

passes these liquorice lips),'  insisted Jaguar, his whiskers
waggling distinguishedly. Like one of Jaga's lectures

to Lion-O,  a tutelary trait to junglecat's sales patter,
& a twinkle like early onset feline Alzheimer's,

chatoyant bants in the leopard-lookeylikey's langtries,
his lookers lacking overblinking of beast who deceives.

So th'Aztec advanced towards pantherpimpled proselytizer,
who thru couchant-sejant-sejanterect- rampant roared a riser

inopinate, clawful carnivore cosh thwacking
w/ newton bump of  Reg Varney's ***** busjacking

a doubledecker, fryingpanning Mesoamerican sun-moonie
flatfaced & flat out, tho' like he'd  lost match of '1-knee, 2-knee',

Aztec Andy fell prone, flat on his face. So as his next meal,
Jaguar dined on Andy's spine like a strawberry jellied eel.

Back on his Aztec Hi-tecs, Andy hadn't a cat in hell's to scramble
- moves like Jagger going for the jugular had Jaguar. Who'd also       hornswaggled

Inca Ian w/ Pashungo mumbojumbo for a previous feast,
tho'  kippercision of supine Ian aped bloodcounting savage priest's.

I'm sure you've heard to beware Greeks bearing gifts or even
but now you know to never ever
trust jaguars in natty trousers.
quipu= Inca string and bead abacus
tzompantli =Mesoamerican wooden rack for displaying skulls of human sacrifices & war captives
Youdont Needthis Jan 2017
Flayed lord of the harvest
Robed in mortal’s meat
He wears men’s hands upon his hands
Feet upon his feet

Human faces are wrapped tight across his darkened skull
In his hands he grips the fertile seeds

In his likeness
Dresses the mortal priest

Before the reap of the planted
The harvest must be blessed
The fatal flint of arrow tips must pierce through limbs and breast
It must coax the sanguine
To spurt in river flows
Their death brings balance
Clouds and godly quenching heaven rain

After the earth is slaked
The seeds must be kissed
Kissed by the cracking sounds of flesh
Torn by tearing whips
Just as the skin is split
So shall the shell of seed
The maize will flourish in tall stalks of vibrant fibrous greens

At rite’s final end
The mortal priest shall dance
He shall feel the skin upon his skin
The hands upon his hands
He will be Xipe Totec
He shall perform his will
Until his vessel’s vessel is potted in the tight bowled clay

— The End —