pensando en ti, antes
Si,
Si sólo
Si sólo pudiera
Si sólo pudiera cerrar
Si sólo pudierar cerrar pensamientos.
Cerrar segundos.
Morirme por un rato.
Romperme la muñeca, destrozarme los nudillos, que reviente la sangre.
Que se llene todo de rojo, de dolor color sangre, dolor físico, mezclado con el interno, que me ciegue, que no sienta, que nuble, que me adormezca, que apague la rabia, que zumbe en mis oídos, que no me deje escuchar ni mis pensamientos.
Golpéame.
posted by diundd at 9:20 PM
1 Comments:
I was looking out the window
of my house one day and saw a
simpleminded young man who
lacked common sense. He was
crossing the street near the
house of an immoral woman.
He was strolling down the path by her
house at twilight, as the day was fading,
as the dark of night set in. The woman
approached him, dressed seductively
and sly of heart.
She was the brash, rebellious type who
never stays at home. She is often seen in
the streets and markets, soliciting at every
corner. She threw her arms around him
and kissed him, and with a brazen look
she said, "It's you I was looking for!
I came out to find you, and here you
are! My bed is spread with colored
sheets of finest linen imported from
Egypt. I've perfumed my bed with
myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. Come,
let's drink our fill of love until morning.
Let's enjoy each other's caresses,
for my husband is not home. He's
away on a long trip. He has taken
a wallet full of money with him,
and he won't return until later in
the month." So she seduced him
with her pretty speech. With her
flattery she enticed him. He
followed her at once, like
an ox going to the slaughter
or like a trapped stag, awaiting
the arrow that would pierce its
heart. He was like a bird flying
into a snare, little knowing it
would cost him his life.
***
There is a way which seemeth
right unto a man, but the end there-
of are the ways of death.
***
I made a covenant with my eyes
not to look with lust upon a young woman.
***
But I say, anyone who even looks
at a woman with lust in his eye has
already committed adultery with her
in his heart.
***
There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.
Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Howdy
'Thought & Humor'
P.S. One thing of which I am sure is
that the common culture of my youth
is gone for good. It was hollowed out
by the rise of ethnic "identity politics,"
then splintered beyond hope of repair
by the emergence of the web-based
technologies that so maximized and
facilitated cultural choice as to make
the broad-based offerings of the old
mass media look bland and unchallenging
by comparison."
P.P.S. “I didn’t really think about
the consequences of everyone in the
world being able to see it… I was just
doing it to amuse friends,” said a startled
and probably repentant blogger to a
Chicago Tribune reporter in a story
earlier this month. The stories indiscreet
bloggers tell apparently are almost always
the same. Blogging has cost many careless,
forgetful people their jobs and relationships,
or, at the very least says Steve Johnson,
“a lot of time spent explaining what they
wrote,”1 or as I would put it, cleaning up
after their mouths. I suspect blogging will
leave a paper trail that will prevent unwitting
users from public careers in the future.
Some of the things people have dashed
off in what Johnson brilliantly calls “an
example of digital smallness” are slangy,
tasteless criticisms of employers, particulars
of sexual life, gossip about colleagues,
and disrespectful, even obscene remarks
by students about their professors—
and that at notable universities. In one
incident, a professor at Northwestern
University discovered that an online
group had coalesced around her.
“It could be your generation who
communicates that way,” that
professor, Michele Weldon,
remembers telling a student
journalist covering the
controversy, “but you have
to remember that my generation
is the one who gives out the
consequences.”
Consequences are the first thing
that everyone in this culture needs
to be reminded of. Secondly, and
far more crucial, is the issue of discretion.
“Discretion” or better yet “circumspection,”
is defined as the art of being cautious or
reserved in speech…the ability to make
responsible decisions… the ability,
presumably to distinguish between
what is wise and foolish… being
thoughtful, qualities that mark a
culture of civility. Presumably,
maturing involves learning when
to contain one’s opinion, anger,
selfishness and even ones sense
of justice. Only very young children
get to say whatever passes through
their heads, and wise parents slowly
and painstakingly discipline that tendency
as they grow older.
“I think a lot of Americans sometimes
confuse freedom of speech with the idea
that we have a right to say anything without
any consequences whatever,” said Daniel
Drezner, a University of Chicago political
science professor who maintains a well-
regarded blog which has raised his profile
as a commentator on international affairs.
Proverbs 15:2 and 4 say it even more
incisively for the Christian whose activities
should always be measured by the Word
of God: “The tongue of the wise makes
knowledge acceptable, but the mouth
of fools spouts folly. A soothing tongue
is a tree of life, but perversion in it crushes
the spirit.”
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