If the west was wild, what was the east, if you discovered me, was I lost or were you.

If I am an alcoholic, who is the drug dealer, if you break a treaty, why was it written,

If I am an Indian giver, are you not thankful, you haven’t paid me taxes, who is the thief.

If we outnumber you 4 to 1, who’s the minority, Inuit to Mapuche, Pan Indian unity,

If borders exist, who put them there, if I am a myth, why am I here.

If we celebrate Columbus, why not Hitler, about Thanksgiving, many Indians starved,

If you exploit Indians, what is sovereignty, why is there property, if we’re truly free.

If you speak of terrorism, it started in 1492, when will the terror stop of red/white/& blue, If the Black Hills are sacred, why disrespect them, to carve slave traders & ignorant fools.

If we celebrate the 4^th, why am I a slave, if this is the land of the free, who is the Brave,

If I pledge allegiance, it is to Indians, to the Choctaw and Iroquois, it is their constitution. 

If Aztecs are Indians, how are they immigrants, if you killed Indians, who is illegal,

If you start a war, why should I fight, even if I fight, why do you run.

If all are immigrants, then what is Aztlan, Turtle Island, if I am poor, how are you rich,

If I am poor, am I low quality, if you are rich, do you think of equality.

If I am of color, then what is white, if you don’t really hate me, then why urban flight,

If I am of lower class, what class are you, if there is democracy, in what type of school.

This is a reminder to let the world know that Native People of Aztlan Turtle Island are still here, we will continue to be here, and will continue to let our voice be heard. We are not a minority, poor, of color, lower class, illegal, savages, immigrants, or aliens. Furthermore, many choose not to be American, Latin, Spanish, or Mestizo. We are Native People of the Aztlan Anahuac, Turtle Island, Ixachilan, or Anishinaabe. In short we are Xicanos de Aztlan, Natives of Turtle Island, and the First Nations of Anishinaabe.

 However, we would also like to be called by our tribal nations:

Acjachemen, Algonquin, Anazasi, Apache-Chiracahua,

Arapaho, Arawak, Assiniboine, Aztecah-Mexihcah, Acoma

Blackfeet, Blackfoot,

Cayuga, Cherokee-Tsalagi, Chichimeca, Choctaw, Chumash,

Comanche, Cahuila, Cree, Crow, Cuna,

Dineh-Navaho,

Hopi, Huasteca, Huichol-Huirarica,

Inuit, Ipai, Iroquios-Haudenosaunee,

Kansa, Kickapoo, Kiowa, Kumeyaay,

Lakota-Dakota-Nakota,

Mapuche, Maya, Manhattan, Miami, Mississippi,

Mixtecah, Miskito, Mohave, Mohawk, Muscogee,

Nazca, Nez Perce,

Olmeca, Omaha, Oneida, Onondanga, Ojibway, Otomi,

Paiute, Pawnee, Pipil, Pomo, Ponca, Pueblo, Purepecha,

Quechua-Inca,

Raramuri- Tarahumara,

Sac and Fox, Seminole, Seneca, Shoshone

Taino, Tataviam, Tohono O’odham, Tewa, Toltecah, Tongva, Totonaca,

Ute,

Wichita, Wyandot,

Yaqui, Yokut, Yurok,

Zapotec, Zuni,

and many other nations within the Red Continent of the Eagle and Condor.

Living on the Earth is Short

Chief Nezahualcoyotl

I, Nezahualcoyotl, ask this:

Is it true one really lives on the earth?

Not forever on earth, only a little while here.

Though it be jade it falls apart,

though it be gold it wears away,

Not forever on earth, only a little while here.

We can be Gone Without

Anyone Really Remembering Anything

Chief Nezahuacoyotl 

With flowers, You paint,

O Giver of life!

With songs You give color,

with songs You shade those who will live on the earth.

Later You will destroy eagles and jaguars:

we live only in Your painting

here, on the earth.

With black ink You will blot out

all that was friendship,

brotherhood, nobility.

You give shading

to those who will live on the earth.

We live only in Your book of paintings,

here on the earth.

Life itself is an illusion

Tochihuitzin Coyolchiuhqui

Thus spoke Tochihuitzin, thus spoke Coyolchiuhqui:

We only rise from sleep, we only come to dream,

it is not true, it is not true, that we come on earth to live.

As an herb in springtime, so is our nature.

Our hearts give birth, make sprout,

the flowers of our flesh.

Some open their corollas,

then they become dry.

Thus spoke Tochihuitzin,

thus spoke Coyolchiuhqui.

The End of the Fifth Sun

Tochihuitzin Coyolchiuhqui

In the year 13 Reed, So they say, it first appeared.

The sun that now exists

Was born then

This is the fifth sun, Its date-sign is 4 Movement.

It is called Movement Sun because on that day it began to move.

The old people say, that in this age earthquakes/changes will appear

And there will come starvation

And we shall perish.

Mechika Hymns:

Huitzilopochtli

Huitzilopochtli is first in rank, no one, no one is like unto him: not vainly do I sing his praises, coming forth in the garb of our ancestors; I shine; I glitter.

He is a terror to the Mixteca; he alone destroyed the Picha-Huasteca, he conquered them.

The Dart-Hurler is an example to the city, as he sets to work.  He who commands in battle is called the representative of my God.

When he shouts aloud he inspires great terror, the divine hurler, the god turning himself in the combat, the divine hurler, the god turning himself in the combat.

Amanteca, gather yourselves together with me in the house of war against your enemies, gather yourselves together with me.

Pipiteca, gather yourselves together with me in the house of war against your enemies, gather yourselves together with me.

Huitzilopochtli,

Only a subject,

Only a mortal was.

A magician,

A terror,

A stirrer of strife,

A deceiver,

A maker of war,

An arranger of battles,

A lord of battles;

And of him it was said

That he hurled

His flaming serpent,

His fire stick;

Which means war,

Blood and burning;

And when his festival was celebrated,

Captives were slain,

Washed slaves were slain,

The merchants washed them.

And thus he was arrayed:

With headdress of green feathers,

Holding his serpent torch,

Girded with a belt,

Bracelets upon his arms,

Wearing Turquoises,

As a master of messengers.

Mechikah Hymn  

of Tlaloc

In Mexico the god appears; thy banner is unfolded in all directions, and no one weeps.

I, the god, have returned again, I have turned again to the place of abundance of blood-sacrifices; there when the day grows old, I am beheld as a god.

Thy work is that of a noble magician; truly thou hast made thyself to be of our flesh; thou hast made thyself, and who dare affront thee?

Truly he who affronts me does not find himself well with me; my fathers took by the head the jaguars and the serpents.

In Tlalocan, in the verdant house, they play at ball, they cast the reeds.

Go forth, go forth to where the clouds are spread abundantly, where the thick mist makes the cloudy house of Tlaloc.

There with strong voice I rise up and cry aloud.

Go ye forth to seek me, seek for the words which I have said, as I rise, a terrible once, and cry aloud.

After four years they shall go forth, not to be known, not to be numbered, they shall descend to the beautiful house, to unite together and know the doctrine.

Go forth, go forth to where the clouds  are spread abundantly, where the thick mist makes the cloudly house of Tlaloc.

Mechika Hymn  

High Priest Xipe Totec 

The nightly drinking, why should I oppose it? Go forth and array yourselves in the golden garments, clothe yourselves in the glittering vestments.

My god descended upon the water, into the beautiful glitening surface; he was as a lovely water cypress, as a beauteous green serpent; now I have left behind me my suffering.

I go forth, I go forth about to destroy, I, Yoatzin; my soul is in the cerulean water; I am seen in the golden water; I shall appear unto mortals; I shall strengthen them for the words of war!

My god appears as a mortal; O Yoatzin, thou art seen upon the mountains; I shall appear unto mortals; I shall strengthen them for the words of war.

Nahua Songs

Teotihuacan

And they called it Teotihuacan

because it was the place

where the lords were buried.

Thus they said:

'When we die,

truly we die not,

because we will live, we will rise,

we will continue living, we will awaken.

This will make us happy.'

Thus the dead one was directed,

when he died:

'Awaken, already the sky is rosy,

already sing the flame-colored guans,

the fire-colored swallows,

already the butterflies fly.'

Thus the old ones said

that who had died has become a god,

they said: 'He has been made a god there,'

meaning, 'He has died.'

Mechika Songs

For Teponaztli

(Tico, tico, toco, toto.  As the song approaches the end, tiqui, titi, tito, titi)

At Tollan there stood the house of beams, there yet stands the house of plumed serpents left by Nacxitl Topiltzin; going forth weeping, our nobles went to where he was to perish, down there at Tlapallan.

We went forth from Cholula by way of Poyauhtecatl, and ye went forth weeping down by the water toward Acallan.

I come from Nonohualco as if I carried quechol birds to the place of the nobles; I grieve that my lord has gone, garlanded with feathers; I am wretched like the last flower.

With the falling down of mountains I wept, with the lifting up of sands I was wretched, that my lord had gone.

At Tlapallan he was waited for, it was commanded that there he should sleep, thus being alone.

In our battles my lord was garlanded with feathers; we were commanded to go alone to Xicalanco.

Alas! and alas! who will be in thy house to attired thee? Who will be the ruler in thy house, left desolate here in Tollan, in Nonohualco?

After he was drunk, the ruler wept; we glorified ourselves to be in thy dwelling. 

Misfortune and misery were written against us there in Tollan, that our leader Nacxitl Topiltzin was to be destroyed and thy subjects made to weep.

We have left the turquoise houses, the serpent houses there in Tollan, where ruled our leader Nacxitl Topiltzin.

(Tico, toco, tocoto.  It ends with ticoto, ticoto)

The sweet voiced quechol there, ruling the earth, has intoxicated my soul.

I am like the quetzal bird, I am created in the house of the one only God; I sing sweet songs among the flowers; I chant songs and rejoice in the heart.

The fuming dew-drops from the flowers in the field intoxicate my soul.

I grieve to myself that ever this dwelling on earth should end.

I foresaw, being a Mexican, that our rule began to be destroyed, I went forth weeping that it was to bow down and be destroyed.

Let me not be angry that the grandeur of Mexico is to be destroyed.

The smoking stars gather together against it; the one who cares for flowers is about to be destroyed.

He who cared for books wepts, he wept for the beginning of the destruction.

Plain Song

of the Mexihkah

I alone will clothe thee with flowers, mine alone is the song which casts down our grief before God in thy house.

True it is that my possession shall perish, my friendships, their home and their house; thus I, O Yoyontzin, pour forth songs to the Giver of Life.

Let the green quechol birds, let the tzinitzcan twine flowers for us, only dying and withered flowers, that we may clothe thee with flowers, thou ruler, thou Nezahual coyotl.

Ye youths and ye braves, skilled in wisdom, may you alone be our friends, while for a moment here we shall enjoy this house.

For thy fame shall perish, Nopiltzin, and thou, Tezozomoc, where are thy songs? No more do I cry aloud, but rest tranquil that ye have gone to your homes.

Ye whom I bewailed, I know nevermore, never again; I am sad here on earth that ye have gone to your homes.

Song of Huexotzinco

Only sad flowers, sad songs, are here in Mexico, in Tlatilolco, in this place these alone are known, alas.

It is well to know these, if only we may please the Giver of Life, lest we be destroyed, we his subjects, alas.

We have angered Him, we are only wretched beings, slaves by blood; we have seen and known affliction, alas.

We are disturbed, we are embittered, thy servants here in Tlatilolco, deprived of food, made acquainted with affliction, we are fatigued with labor, O Giver of Life, alas.

Weeping is with us, tears fall like rain, here in Tlatilolco; as the Mexican women go down to the water, we beg of them for ourselves and our friends, alas.

Even as the smoke, rising, lies in a cloud over Mount Atloyan, in Mexico, so does it happen unto us, O Giver of Life, alas.

And you Mexicans, may you remember concerning us when you descend and suffer before the majesty of God, when there you shall howl like wolves.

There, there will be only weeping as your greeting when you come, there you will be accursed, all of you, workers in filth, slaves, rulers or warriors, and thus Tenochtitlan will be deserted.

Oh friends, do not weep, but know that sometime we shall have left behind us the things of Mexico, and then their water shall be made bitter and their food shall be made bitter, here in Tlatilolco, as never before, by the Giver of Life.

The disdained and the slaves shall go forth with song; but in a little while their oppressors shall be seen in the fire, amid the howling of wolves.

Where Are the Roots of Men?

Where are the roots of men?

Are they real?

No one can know completely

what is Your richness, what are Your flowers,

oh Inventor of Yourself!

We leave things unfinished.

For this I weep,

I lament.

Here with flowers I interweave my friends.

Let us rejoice!

Our common house is the earth.

In the place of mystery, beyond,

is it also like this?

Truly, it is not the same.

On earth: flowers and songs.

Let us live here!

Does Man Possess Any Truth?

Does man possess any truth?

If not, our song is no longer true.

Is anything stable and lasting?

What reaches its aim?

One Day We Must Go

One day we must go,

one night we will descend into the region of mystery.

Here, we only come to know ourselves;

only in passing are we here on earth.

In peace and pleasure let us spend our lives; come, let us enjoy ourselves.

Let not the angry do so; the earth is vast indeed!

Would that one lived forever;

Would that one were not to die!

Who Am I?

Who am I?

As a bird I fly about,

I sing of flowers;

I compose of songs;

butterflies of song.

Let them burst forth from my soul!

Let my heart be delighted with them!

The wise man: a light, a torch, a stout torch that does not smoke
A perforated mirror, a mirror pierced on both sides (tezcatl necuc xapo).
His are the black and red ink, his are the illustrated manuscripts, he studies the illustrated manuscripts.
He himself is writing and wisdom.
He is the path, the true way for others.
He directs people and things; he is a guide in human affairs.
The wise man is careful and preserves tradition.
His is the handed-down wisdom; he teaches it; he follows the path of truth.
Teacher of the truth, he never ceases to admonish.
He makes wise the countenances of others; to them he gives a face; he leads them to develop it / teixtlamachtiani, teixcuitiani, teixtomani.
He opens their ears; he enlightens them.
He is the teacher of guides; he shows them their path.
One depends upon him.
He puts a mirror before others (tetezcaviani); he makes them prudent, cautious; he causes a face to appear in them.
He attends to things; he regulates their path, he arranges and commands.
He applies his light to the world.
He knows what is above us and in the region of the dead.
He is a serious man.
Everyone is comforted by him, corrected, taught.
Thanks to him people humanize their will and receive a strict education / Itech netlacaneco.
He comforts the heart, he comforts the people, he helps, gives remedies, heals everyone.

What does your mind seek?
Where is your heart?
If you give your heart to each and everything,
You lead it nowhere: you destroy your heart.
Can anything be found on earth? / In tlalticpac can mach ti itlatiuh?

Poems of Resistance

The Temporary Fall of Tenochtitlan

Our cries of grief rise up and our tears rain down,

for Tlatelolco is lost.

The Mexica are fleeing across the lake;

they are running away like women.

How can we save our homes, my people?

The Mexica are deserting the city:

the city is in flames, and all

is darkness and destruction.

Motelchiuhtzin the Huiznahuacatl,

Tlacotzin the Tlailotlacatl,

Oquitzin the Tlacatecuhtli

are greeted with tears.

Weep, my people:

know that with these disasters

we have lost the Mexica nation.

The water has turn bitter, our food is bitter!

These are the acts of the Giver of Life...

The Imprisonment of Cuauhtemoc

The Mexica are besieged in the city; the Tlatelolca are besieged in the city!

The walls are black, the air is black with smoke, the guns flash in the darkness.

They have captured Cuauhtemoc; they have captured the princes of Mexico.

The Mexica are besieged in the city;

The Tlatelolca are besieged in the city!

After nine days, they were taken to Coyoacan:

Cuauhtemoc, Coanacoch, Tetlepanquetzaltzin.

The kings are prisioners now.

Tlacotzin consoled them:

" 'Oh my nephew, you are a prisioner;

they have bound you in irons.'

'But who is that at the side of the Captain-General?

Ah, it is Dona Isabel, my little niece!

Ah, it is true: the kings are prisoners now!'

'You will be a slave and belong to another:

the collar will be fashioned in Coyoacan, where the quetzal feathers will be woven.'

'Who is that at the side of the Captain-General?

Ah, it is Dona Isabel, my little niece!

Ah, it is true: the kings are prisioners now!' "

Flowers and Songs of Sorrow

Nothing but flowers and songs of sorrow are left in Mexico and Tlatelolco,

where once we saw warriors and wise men.

We know it is true that we must perish,

for we are mortal men.

You, the Giver of Life,

you have ordained it.

We wander here and there in our desolate poverty.

We are mortal men.

We have seen bloodshed and pain where once we saw beauty and valor.

We are crushed to the ground; we lie in ruins.

There is nothing but grief and suffering in Mexico and Tlatelolco,

where once we saw beauty and valor.

Have you grown weary of your servants?

Are you angry with your servants,

O Giver of Life? Poems from the book, my turquoise one.

• Mankillers

For the Nation of Aztlan Mexicah, we will continue to sacrifice blood, sweat, and tears.