My Aztec Warrior

My Aztec warrior,
Will you protect me?

My Aztec warrior,
Will you save me?

My Aztec warrior,
Will you love me?

My Aztec warrior,
Will you obey me?

My Aztec warrior,
Will you help me?

My Aztec warrior,
Will you be there for me?

My Aztec warrior,
Are you strong?

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poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Everything that is really Mexican is either Aztec or Spanish.

quote by Edward Burnett Tylor
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That was when the Spanish came in and conquered the Aztecs. I thought that was a clever thing.

quote by Les Baxter
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Clearly, it is difficult for us to come to a true understanding of what human sacrifice meant to the sixteenth century Aztec; but it may be observed that every culture possesses its own idea of what is and what is not cruel. At the height of their career the Romans shed more blood in their circuses and for their amusement than ever the Aztecs did before their idols. The Spaniards so sincerely moved by the cruelty of the native priests, nevertheless massacred, burnt, mutilated and tortured with a perfectly clear conscience. We, who shudder at the tales of the bloody rites of ancient Mexico, have seen with our own eyes and in our days civilized nations proceed systematically to the extermination of millions of human beings and to the perfection of weapons capable of annihilating in one second a hundred [times] more victims than the Aztecs ever sacrificed.

Jacques Soustelle in Dances of Anáhuac
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The Aztecs believe they started up in what's now New Mexico, and wandered for 10,000 years before they got down into where they are now, in Mexico City. That's a weird legend.

quote by Jerry Pournelle
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The Aztecs were perhaps the most successful regime of terror the world has ever seen. They carried out mass murder... staged as an exultant feat of human butchery. They recorded the slaughter in an orgy of death imagery.

Nigel Spivey in How Art Made The World
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Today we are at last beginning to understand the intricacies of Aztec amazing culture, which was the equal of any in Europe in moral refinement, artistic sensibility, social complexity, and political organization.

J. Jorge Klor de Alva in Foreword to 'The Broken Spears'
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Licking the Toad II

'Doctor: 'Are the tablets beginning to work now? ''
Miss Alma: 'Yes, I'm beginning to feel like a waterlily on a Chinese lagoon.''
-from Summer and Smoke by Tennessee Williams
The Aztec people had a closely related god of sacred psychoactive plants. Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers, was the divine patron of 'the flowery dream' as the Aztecs called the ritual hallucinatory trance.

See them there:
young naked hippies gamboling in the hot reeds
along the Clorado River
in southern Arizona
looking for toads
chasing the hopping delicate toads
whose only defense
is what makes them prized
their poison
their recreational high
Slough them off!
Dry the skins
let them renew their
poison
Paracelsus' dosage

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poem by Stan Petrovich
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In this world, torn with hate and war, adrift without an anchor or a compass with which to chart our course, we may well consider the Aztecs’ example. The Indians worked together for their common good, and no sacrifice was too great for their corporate well-being.

George C. Vaillant in The Aztecs of Mexico
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Small Tomato Sprawl Scrawl

SMALL TOMATO SPRAWL SCRAWL
Kindly refer to notes

We’re tomatoes [b]red together,
dependant on capricious weather
happy-go-lucky hell-for-leather
advancing, never asking whether
we’ll end in bird crop, rot, - whatever
providing seeds sprout on forever.

* * * * *

Read of the facts that history
recounts for all posterity.
Around five hundred years ago,
learn, inwardly digest, and know
cerasiforme – like a cherry –
appearance then, as tiny tree.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Like An Inca

Said the condor to the preying mantis
Were gonna lose this place just like we lost atlantis
Brother we got to go sooner than you know
The gypsy told my fortune, she said that nothin showed.
Who put the bomb on the sacred altar?
Why should we die if it comes our way?
Why should we care about a little button
Being pushed by someone we dont even know?
Well. I wish I was an aztec,
Or a runner in peru
I would build such beautiful buildings
To house the chosen few
Like an inca from peru.
If you want to get high, build a strong foundation
Sink those pylons deep now and reach for the sky
If you want to get lost in the jungle rhythm
Get down on the ground and pretend youre swimmin.
If you want to put ice in the lava river
First you must climb, then you must stand and shiver
Brother we got to go sooner than you know

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song performed by Neil Young
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Being Gotten In

Harvard was founded in 1636,
And Yale was founded in 1701;
But like the Cherokees of the Americans with the autumn flowers,
My mind is now made up like the Aztecs of Mexico.

Along the shores of Cape Cold Bay in my love,
With wild fruits of nuts like the winter berries;
But to be on board with the May Flower,
And like James Town on the James River.

Give me an axe to chop down a wood in the forest,
For i am now setting my feet on a dry land;
With the hissing of snakes around me,
For the rivers of the flooding waters are now seen ahead of me.

Oh life!
Baldness has come upon Gaza;
And of lives decorated with anutmn flowers,
For i am now being gotten in! !

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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Our culture/200 years of independence

Three colors in my Flag
Red green and white
2 cultures make my race
My ancestors came from spain
I'm also of aztec desedence
200 years ago my country claimed its indepence
Spanish is the language i speak
Day of the dead november first
5 de mayo and September 16th
Soccer, Tequila, as we sing
Mexican thats what I am
Mexican thats who I am

poem by Juan Rivera
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El Camino

----------
El camino
By ween 1990
On the god-satan album
-----------------------------------
El camino
El camino -- blazing down the road
El camino -- ah, shes fast, never slow
El camino -- conquest of the night
El camino -- aztec machine speeding to the light
Toronado -- concienda il ma pweeb
Toronado -- ah, she rules the laws of speed
Toronado -- shes a bull of a machine
Toronado -- beauty like Ive never seen
Cordoba -- hot siesta at high noon
Cordoba -- oh, she takes me to the moon
Cordoba -- oh, estienda ma chi esta que
Cordoba -- el puentes masto mehta
Cuondo cuondo cuondo
Cuondo cuondo

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song performed by Ween
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Aztec

You came from the Aztecs
With a copper on your fore-arms
Tawnier than a sunset
Saying good-by to an even river.

And I said, you remember,
Those fore-arms of yours
Were finer than bronzes
And you were glad.

It was tears
And a path west
and a home-going
when I asked
Why there were scars of worn gold
Where a man’s ring was fixed once
On your third finger.
And I call you
To come back
before the days are longer.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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Why are violence and the sacred so intertwined? Why is death seen as necessary to renew life? ... To us the Aztec universe may appear irrational, terrifying, murderous in its brutality; and yet it is a mirror held up to our humanity which we ignore at our cost. For in the name of other ideals and other gods Western culture has been no less addicted to killing, even in our own century.

Michael Wood in In Search of the First Civilizations
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Culture Forgotten

In a gringo society
Chicanos thrive
culture changing
as we try to survive
the vatos in the calles
kill our own kind
our culture we can't find
Aztec ancestors
Spanish savages
the blood of warriors
but our native tongue is tied
family from mexico, access denied
a fence divides
we act out in aggression
now la raza has tension
tattoos with meaning unknown
ignorance is whats really shown
our culture is lost

poem by Jeremy Rascon
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The Mexican Breathes

Aztec in arts
Spanish in conquest
The Mexican breathes
And lives
Taking control
Controlling the taken,
Our blood hot
Like the chile we eat
Don't expect any less
Outside we are strong
Desert cacti
Sharp unforgiving and rough
On the outside
But the inside
Water flows
The love flows
For la raza
Death envies our vidas
So rich and full
Fearless

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poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Dusty Doors

Child of the Aztec gods,
how long must we listen here,
how long before we go?

The dust is deep on the lintels.
The dust is dark on the doors.
If the dreams shake our bones,
what can we say or do?

Since early morning we waited.
Since early, early morning, child.
There must be dreams on the way now.
There must be a song for our bones.

The dust gets deeper and darker.
Do the doors and lintels shudder?
How long must we listen here?
How long before we go?

poem by Carl Sandburg
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In Vain

The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
In vain
The key in the lock
In vain
The sleeping mother
In vain
The lamp in the corner
In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
In vain
Abraham Lincoln
In vain
The Aztec empire
In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
In vain
The windowshade string upon

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poem by Jack Kerouac
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