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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Christopher Columbus was a good man
But as Bartholomew De Las Casas wrote “The admiral (…) was so anxious to please the King that he committed irreparable crimes against the Indians.” “murder, murder” dictated Gold, in a sweet mephistophelian voice And Columbus, obedient and earnest, Complied. “I will give gold enough to fill a room twenty-two feet long and seventeen wide, up to a white line which is halfway up the wall,” said Atahualpa with a stern look, negotiating his gold for his blood Pizzaro’s mind drew mountains of gold covering Spain in Oro puro. But across fragile promises the mephistophelian voice thundered: “Burn, burn at the stake!” In a final act of humiliation, Juan Santos Atahualpa Died a good Christian The iron garrote on his people Never to be lifted. Gold extracted from bodies piled over each other Like limbless dolls in a human slaughter house Gold extracted by living bodies from narrow shafts Gold carried back into narrow shafts On dead bodied Never-ending travelling Hallucinatory dance on mephistophelian rhythms A chorus of whispers echoing from golden financial cathedrals “More, more!”
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