"hewers" poems
MOTECUHZOMA
My torch that does not smoke, your will be done.
We’ll, with a clean-slate log, draft dignity.
Yet what events may come to canonize?
The wider our domain has stretched her range,
The weaker our elastic hold becomes,
As one half of our empire is employed
With forceps to extract the other half.
Our reign superimposes all the earth
From the volcanic groves of Mayaland
Up to the shifting wastelands of the North.
But there is one last nest of brigandry,
A murky pocket glowering in the east:
That vile Tlaxcala, left to roam at large,
And, as a single bed flea spoils my sleep,
So does this fractious county drain my humor.
Brother- What pesticide must flush these flies?
CUITLAHUAC
We have the force to raze those traitors down,
And what we might attempt, our might must crown.
Our fertile empire rounds their toxic realm
As healthy flesh imprisons cancerous rot;
If eagles nursed a stranger’s egg to find
Their warm embrace has thawed a rattling asp.
We once did stalk Tlaxcalans for our sport,
And prize their trophied hides like ten-point bucks.
But these stray pups have hardened to coyotes,
On crouching haunches, like a nightmare, hunched
Upon a flowerlike land that should support
A million civilized and happy men.
Their population’s health should be no more
Than called for by an enterprising nation
For water-drawers and hewers of our wood.
Let’s pinch this pest we coddle at our breast,
And clip these hatchlings’ wings while in the nest.
MOTECUHZOMA
So should we compromise our Mexico,
By thus unpopulating her of men.
What says our loving minister of war?
Speak, Tlacaelel, and pronounce their doom.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
We see the birds fly over the skies ,where sometimes we dream of. In he shadows of trees hey hide, shelter, breed and nurse their young. And to some birds, it is a place of defense, a tower of refuge, a point where they could see all the land, and only a few could have such a view.
The wolf dig holes and barrels, nest their young, train them to be together, to hunt and prey and be preyed on as well. To the wolf togetherness is strength.
And we men; we mould, we craft, we build, we farm, we watch and be watched upon. Some times we seem dissatisfied, for our ego is much, we are care taker of creation. The carvers of wood and hewers of great stone into caves and monuments, and a race that posses fashioning of weapons, both great and small, both good and evil.
We posses many names according to race of kind, according families, according to tribes, according to sects of vicious talents and our know how and to research, companions who tell history and what is behind history.
For we are called men because we are descendants of our kind. We also posses beauty and handsomeness in like fashion of fathers and mothers. Our defenses are from deities of great power, weapons, towers and skills. We learn from many; of our kind and sometimes not from our kind.
We are the key to the next generation, we carry our life, history, genetic makeup, our sense of being and how we want our future to be like to the next generation. W e will teach them of our world and what is yet to come. Such as is done by birds and other kind of animals, we must not forget our past.
We will remain the ultimate purpose of creation, objects of worship, men and always men alike.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:41 AM UTC