When I was in high school in the late 90s, I had the privilege of taking a proper course in world history taught by a real teacher who wanted to properly educate us. One section of the course was about the Spanish incursion into Peru and the execution of Atahualpa, the last God-Emperor of the Inca Empire. I was so disturbed by the story I wrote the following poem which I’ve slightly revised here for NOSTR. Though my political philosophies have evolved, it’s important to remember who we once were as we become who we will be, but there’s something to what young John is saying here:

Bled dry from a man on horse high.

Dictate my rights? The right to die.

I’m left with nothing, so I’m pipe puffing;

Drawn to the station, only with the gift of copious copulation.

Grow the starving army.

The ugly American charming, with his green provocative call.

Build up his walls, damn up our falls, to flow his shit away;

Down the river for me to pay, for a Drink, that Stains my stone sink;

Built from nothing by our fathers’ hands, can’t understand this so-called Free Trade Plan

…Makes no sense to this man.

#poetry