#aztec
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
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC
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 you...you could never miss his face.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
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
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC