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Luke Jul 2017
Amidst a tenebrous hurricane of chaos,
I have hunted through the dark to find what I have lost,
And at last my path is laid out in front,
So I shall stay alert, always savoring the hunt,

I am ending my transformation as sovereign of the dark,
Arming myself with the confidence to finally make my mark,
I will help guide foreign spirits through the lurid mist,
Protecting them from horrors that most beings have thankfully missed,

I’m almost there, I don’t look back, I’ve come so very far,
Now my spirit is almost fully submerged into the Jaguar,
I move so stealthily through corners nobody can see,
I understand the chaos; no one’s ventured there but me,

I have made a choice to be the guardian of the night,
Some of you can sense me I’m the one who kills the fright,
My spots reflect the darkness, circles of a deep pitch black,
They help remind me of the things to which I’ll never go back
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
brochures,
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

— The End —