On The Aztecs

On The Aztecs Warrior on the shore Looking toward Tenochtitlan Thinks upon his people They have killed our men Murdered our king Raped our women Burned and pillaged our city Enslaved our children Destroyed our language Assimilated our culture and Forced us to worship their gods… A droning sound breaks the spell And he turns back to the Spaniard on the Shore                         “El Dorado? Yes, I know what you seek” A dark and grim smile Flickers for an instant Across the warrior’s weathered face Bloody, bloody Huitzilopochtli Took everything that mattered And smeared it red on the walls Of his temple And now, the piles of bones Call from the deep, dirt pits For justice They shall have it, he thinks He turns to the Spaniard And points the way to Tenochtitlan And tells him that he will provide Him with food and shelter for the night And in the morning, the Tlaxcala warrior Knows That a reckoning comes for Montezuma, His enemy For the wind blows and brings forth A strange people to this land With a thirst for gold and blood And he will be the zephyr that sends The plague of Hernan Cortes Into the Red soaked streets of the Aztecs And Tenochtitlan And he will pour the wine burgundy Overflowing into the cup Of Cortes Until, at last, his thirst is quenchedI hate the title.. any suggestions? This is a rough draft...not a finished work-Constructive criticism welcome. Written March 2nd, 2002 © on Mar 02 2002 01:31 PM PST   0 • 9