Saltar para: Posts , Pesquisa e Arquivos 
"OH WATERS, TEEM WITH MEDICINE TO KEEP MY BODY SAFE FROM HARM, SO THAT I MAY LONG SEE THE SUN." - Rig Veda
One inquisitor’s manual reports “the heretics professed to believe that there is another new and visible land”.These two worlds mirror one another. In some cases the details of sin and redemption even play out in both places. The Cathar John of Lugio taught that “the good God has another world wherein are people and animals and everything else comparable to the visible and corruptible creatures here; marriages and fornications and adulteries take place there, from which children are born. And what is even more base there the people of the good God, against his command, have taken foreign women to wife, that is, daughters of a strange god or of evil gods, and from such shameful and forbidden intercourse have been born giants and many other beings at various times” “In that land of the living,” and inquisitorwrites, “ there are cities and outside them castles, villages, and woodlands, meadows, pastures, sweet water and salt, beasts of the forest and domestic animals, dogs and birds for the hunt, gold and silver, utensils of various kinds, and furniture ... They shall eat and drink, play and sleep, and do all things just as they do in the world of the present”. It was in this other world that Christ was born and cruciﬁed, in which the prophets prophesied, and in which many of the events narrated in the Old Testament took place.
In other cases, this world is the dark image of the better world. “[S]ince there are many ... who pay little heed to the other world and to other created things beyond those visible in this wicked world, which are vain and corruptible, which as surely as they come from nothing shall return to nothing, we say that in truth there exists another world and other, incorruptible and eternal created things. In either case, the work of the good god takes place in the other realm. The story of salvation involves not redemption in and of this world, but merely escape to the other place, where the good god reigns.
"It happens so slowly,
A bare vine planted
In spring, a trellis bent
By summer flowers-
Mother details a small cloth with
Intricate stitches on a couch
Beside father, watching television,
Flickering and silent.
Brothers on the floor, tussling or
Playing children's games.
Slight wind through lilac near the window,
Code of branches tapping glass.
Father goes into garage
To check on some noise he thinks
Might be plumbing and never comes out.
Mother sets down her needlepoint,
Walks to a closet for more yarn. Never
Returns. Brothers go outside into sunlight,
Birdsongs and disappear at the gate.
I step out the door, push
The sticky screen open-
The neighborhood, the hedges gray,
With road dust, the fire hydrant, painted red
Again last week, disappears.
I wait for the return of everything.
Wait in the darkness without breath
Listening to a million hearts, none
Of which are mine, beating."
Gary Lemmons - "Missing in Action"
Notas do autor sobre o poema: "Regarding the transformation of a clothes closet into a casket, an underwear drawer into a urn, "Missing in Action" estivated many years in my heart where, when winter came, it dug free of that hot organ and now convulses naked in the snow. Meaning that death is a monkey with a calculator up a tree randomly assigning final number of days with an indifferent finger.
The banana I offer him is not enough to coax him to stop. So I offer instead this poem. And for just as long as it takes him to read it, maybe even a little longer, he stops."
Fonte - Revista Rattle, versão impressa
"I knew i’d heard it before as i fell to the floor and lost sight of the books on the shelf
there is no hard debate there’s no time to wait when you’ve no one to blame but yourself
you know it’s all arranged the seasons will change ‘cause the sun is in endless decay
there’s no one in control the earth will revolve a little slower for every day
we’re all stuck in the waltz
forgive me, i failed to ignore your depressions once more and i failed to ignore that you’re here
it’s just that when we hold hands any brief romance turns a little to fast into fear
and all the quiet words that we’ve ever heard are the sum of the noises around
written with glitter glue on a high-heeled shoe is a note praying ‘let me be found’
face it you’re stuck in the waltz
face it you’re stuck in the waltz
under the microscope, where we all find hope, you’ll see nothing but your last defeat
and as the silence grows only silence knows it gets greater for every beat
i hear the pulse of the drum like dead bones against stone; he’s been caught stealing it from a friend
now every single tone is a haunting moan, repeating the same tune again
face it, you’re stuck in the waltz, stuck in the waltz
face it you’re stuck in the waltz, we’re all stuck in the waltz"
"Their calculations depend on M-theory, a branch of string theory that posits the existence of at least ten to eleven dimensions, the majority of which are hidden from our comprehension. Although M-theory is seriously complex and not easily summarized, for our purposes we just need to know that, in general, these hidden dimensions generally don't interact with those that we experience, although some forces such as gravity are predicted to bleed between them. Indeed, this is why some physicists predict the LHC's incredibly high energy collisions will create short-lived micro black holes, which would be remnants of the interactions with extra dimensions.
With the Higgs singlet, the idea is that it would only exist in the fifth dimension, and that means it wouldn't be bound by any of the dimensions of our universe, including time. When the Higgs singlet decays into more ordinary particles, these would be deposited back into our normal universe, but - and here's the crucial bit - they would be detected at a completely arbitrary time.
Theoretically, the LHC could create a Higgs singlet whose decay particles appeared at the exact same moment it was created, or they might not be detected for another 10,000 years (that might be a little extreme, but you get the point), or - and this is the really intriguing part - the decay particles could be detected before the singlet itself was even generated."
"A strange voice within his mind
from the calling orb in his hands.
Spoke of the properties of certain herbs,
growing wild all across this land."
"Strange voices in my head"; "properties of certain herbs" ... Oh The Sword, is like you know my life so well!
Even Virgin Mary couldn’t compete with the miracles
performed on dashboards by GPS devices that summon
the heavens for guidance instead of forgiveness. Instead
of blessing we want clairvoyance and the dust bursts of angels
and demons appearing on our shoulders, though we know
they may only goad us into leading either a high or low-speed
chase while America tunes in at home via eyes in the skies.
Used to be the battle of getting there was indeed a tortoise and
hare proposition full of k-turns in stranger’s driveways, but our
omniscient technology has made speed obsolete. Who needs to
hurry when we have a hivemind of newsfeeds, can discern death’s
thumbprint in the marrow of a bone and engineer children who
are elegant and fleet? In the end, James Dean couldn’t outrun
a glacier. Just as the slowest floes preyed timelessly on dinosaurs
and shat their bones, our rockets now speed into the starry
firmament to take orbit on the shoulders of eternity where they
may fill the creator’s ears with our own doubts and provocations.