20210329

Miztli

In the land of Monteczuma
Miztli, strong black puma,
Went hunting far and high and low,
Seeking his deadly foe.

Quezelcoatl, and at his side
His dog - his joy and pride.
Xoloitzquintle his loyal hound,
Dog always faithful found.

This famous hound, Xoloitzquintle,
There in Us'macinta,
Lay 'midst reeds, sole lord of his lair,
Who would attack? Who'd dare?

The puma travelled three long days
Then on his foe did gaze,
And then for three more days he lay
To contemplate his prey.

Then Xoloitzquintle, dread dark hound,
Arose without a sound
And saw strong puma, Miztli dark,
Bared his teeth, snarled a bark.

And then suddenly the puma,
Pride of Monteczuma,
Sank his sharp teeth into his flesh,
Tasted blood, warm and fresh.

A struggle then ensued twixt two,
They at each other flew,
Until the massive hound lay dead.
The puma Miztli fed.

Quezelcoatl - he had not slept - 
At such bad news, he wept.
And as for Lord Monteczuma
Champion of the puma.

He built a temple to its name
And sought to spread its fame.
And still in Tula there it stands
The shrine made by his hands.

20210327

Music


I'm in love with music,
Music, music, music.
It's really such a thing -
But I can't sing.

Days

How I long for, O how I dream,
Of days that are now past
Days that now are gone forever
Days that did not last.

All I see now, yes, all I feel,
These days go by so fast
Days that float away forever
Days that will not last.

Exception

It's an exception to be an exception
But we're the exception that proves the rule.

It's an exception to be an exception
But we're the exception that proves the rule.

Oh how I remember when I first loved you
O such a lovely child, you glowed,
But as for me - I was so old.

But now that we're together
Nothing can go wrong, I'm sure
Yes, it's turned out in his perfect plan
Though unexpected before
Our love cannot fail,
It's an exceptional tale.

It's an exception to be an exception
But we're the exception that proves the rule.

It's an exception to be an exception
But we're the exception that proves the rule.

Twenty-six


I wrote this when I was twenty six

The twenty-sixth summer's almost gone
Half of those summers spent in the Lord
Yet there's still so much wrong.