Bob Dylan
I can hear the turning of the key
I've been deceived by the clown inside of me.
I thought that he was righteous but he's vain
Oh, something's a-telling me I wear the ball and chain.
My patron saint is a-fighting with a ghost
He's always off somewhere when I need him most.
The Spanish moon is rising on the hill
But my heart is a-tellin' me I love ya still.
I come back to the town from the flaming moon
I see you in the streets, I begin to swoon.
I love to see you dress before the mirror
Won't you let me in your room one time 'fore I finally disappear?
Everybody's wearing a disguise
To hide what they've got left behind their eyes.
But me, I can't cover what I am
Wherever the children go I'll follow them.
I march in the parade of liberty
But as long as I love you I'm not free.
How long must I suffer such abuse
Won't you let me see you smile one time before I turn you loose?
I've given up the game, I've got to leave,
The pot of gold is only make-believe.
The treasure can't be found by men who search
Whose gods are dead and whose queens are in the church.
We sat in an empty theater and we kissed,
I asked ya please to cross me off-a your list.
My head tells me it's time to make a change
But my heart is telling me I love ya but you're strange.
One more time at midnight, near the wall
Take off your heavy make-up and your shawl.
Won't you descend from the throne, from where you sit?
Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it.
Alan Pauls
Cuernos
Nick Ut
Safo
Semejante a los dioses me parece
ese hombre que, sentado frente a ti,
desde muy cerca escucha cómo le hablas
con dulzura
y te ve sonreírle, seductora:
eso me hace parar el corazón,
pues si te miro apenas un instante,
pierdo el habla;
la lengua, silenciosa, se me quiebra;
y un fuego delicado me recorre
la piel; no ven mis ojos y me zumban
los oídos;
me cae un sudor frío, y un temblor
se apodera de mí; me pongo pálida
como la hierba, y próxima la muerte
me parece.
Pero yo todo lo soporto, porque…
Libertad de expresión (I)
La primera noche
ellos se acercan y cogen una flor
de nuestro jardín,
y no decimos nada.
La segunda noche
ya no se esconden
pisan las flores, matan nuestro perro
y no decimos nada.
Hasta que un día
el más frágil de ellos
entra sólo en nuestra casa,
nos roba la luna, y
conociendo nuestro miedo
nos arranca la voz de la garganta.
Y porque no dijimos nada
ya no podemos decir nada.
*
A propósito de la crítica y la burla (El café de Ocata) Gregorio Luri
Cartoon Debate: The case for mocking religion (Slate) Christopher Hitchens
Hatred will always outpace linguistic correctness (Slate) Christopher Hitchens
Vaticinio: Transgénero (kiplingo)
trans·gen·der [trans-jen-der, tranz‑]
–noun
| 1. | a person appearing or attempting to be a member of the opposite sex, as a transsexual or habitual cross-dresser. |
–adjective Also, trans·gen·dered.
| 2. | being, pertaining to, or characteristic of a transgender or transgenders: the transgender movement. |
[Origin: 1990–95
]
]
.//gender c.1300, from O.Fr. gendre, from stem of L. genus (gen. generis) "kind, sort, gender," also "sex" (see genus); used to translate from Gk. Aristotle's grammatical term genos. As sex took on erotic qualities in 20c., gender came to be used for "sex of a human being," often in feminist writing with reference to social attributes as much as biological qualities; this sense first attested 1963. Gender-bender is first attested 1980, with reference to pop star David Bowie. //.
Papel, Vidrio
Hannah Arendt
La poesía, cuyo material es el lenguaje, quizás es la más humana y la menos mundana de las artes, en la que el producto final queda muy próximo al pensamiento que lo inspiró. El carácter duradero de un poema se produce mediante la condensación, como si el lenguaje hablado en su máxima densidad y concentración fuera poético en sí mismo. En este caso el recuerdo, mnemosyne, madre de las musas, se transforma directamente en memoria, y el medio del poeta para lograr la transformación es el ritmo, mediante el cual el poema se fija en el recuerdo casi por sí mismo. Esta contigüidad al recuerdo vivo capacita al poema para permanecer, para retener su carácter duradero, al margen de la página impresa o escrita, y aunque la "calidad" de un poema pueda estar sujeta a una variedad de modelos, su "memoriabilidad" determinara de manera inevitable su carácter duradero, es decir, su posibilidad de quedar permanentemente en el recuerdo de la humanidad.
Castraciones (químicas)
- Palabra clave: voluntaria, tanto cuando aparece como cuando no.
*
A sus puestos:
Castrar a violadores o no (El País)
"Nemo sponte sua pecat" (El Café de Ocata) Gregorio Luri
I Castrati (Mujer-Pez) Teresa Giménez Barbat
Cortársela (Nickjournal)
Órganos
Animales
Animal Rights (Slate) Peter Singer - Richard A. Posner
Por qué es absurdo... (El Catoplebas) Gustavo Bueno
Animal Rights (Hispanic Pundit)
*
Una izquierda darwinista Peter Singer
J. Sachs Vs. W. Easterly
Richard Dawkins
Eric Hobsbawm
God of our fathers, known of old--
Lord of our far-flung battle line
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
Or lesser breeds without the law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard--
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard--
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!
Thomas L. Friedman
Shirin Evadi
Yamamoto Masao
