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Part 2.

Into the wasteland he flies
To bury the souls of lies,
Beneath the leaves of time,
Dirty deeds must dirty die.

This then the watchman must do:

Step on the fingers that try,
With downward pulls to pry,
Into doom flower faces,
These flowers must not die.
--


The conquistador arrived.
He gazed at the unscathed bounty standing
Respect-less before him and squinted.
Surveying the laughing land,
He made up his mind with astute rat-like grace
And thrust with self-satisfied lust his mighty sword into the sand.
God’s word thus bespoken he listened, breathlessly.
 
The jungle though could not understand 
Tectetan, tectetan, tectetan
Nor chose to hear or fear 
This little man,
Oh thou little man, thou little man 
What is your plan,
Little man?
The jungle laughed, unbothered
Unmoved it ignored
Untouched it continued
Unfettered it roared
With sparkling green verdant song to sing,
It sang. 

The conquistador fumed
Scarlet red 
Vino roja bottled fumes
Of smoky rage
Stomping he retorted
Thou art doomed
Veni Vidi Vici he screamed
Satisfied, mesmerized
With scroll in hand he did announce
All that is yours is mine
It says so in this paper
The King has made it divine
Mine Mine and only Mine
Did he but announce 
Without a golden ounce
Of irony’s feathered face
Whose trace, 
With obsidian plans to erase
Surely soon he would get to know.

Breathlessly he stood once again, the conquistador did
Assuming 
The noise, ploys and feathery joys
Of the jungle toys he heard
Marked abdications hour
At work already
At hand
To make this land
His.

Impatient 
Making up his mind
Marching straightforwardly
Towards the eye of the jungle
Sacking with gaze the mighty maze
Of spider green vines hiding before him
The craze of ores whose mint would course the earth
Soon to raise his rank to that of Jerusalem’s teutonic bearded men

He was surprised when he saw 
Three sets of steely indian eyes
Peering through the jungle wall
And the flying hatchet hit him hard and true
And for all we knew he never came back again

“Ecab cotoch”
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