Three poems and a cosmic narrative

Paul Klee, Chop the Clown, 1931.


The children of Earth

One day
The unthinkable happened
And an insane world
It exploded into a thousand pieces.

Those who saw,
They preferred to die so as not to remember.
Those who survived,
They didn't last long
To the warm winds from beyond the sea.

The right is
That many centuries have passed,
Since the children of Earth
They took a path of no return,
Without love, without affection,
Without pity or mercy.

It was when the spirit of commerce,
Spread like the shadow of the night
Dyeing the fields and cities.

Since then, the children of Earth
They turned into zombies,
Alienated by the relentless yoke
Of currency and power.

And in the desire to increase
Gifts and riches,
They destroyed everything they could
In a macabre dance of non-being.

No one knows for sure…
If it was the Earth that vomited,
In giant gales and torrid heat,
All the filth
That the insane people planted there.

Or were the atomic explosions
That madness and money
They took it from the cellars of war
To destroy everything that's left.

The fact is that one day,
The unthinkable presented itself
And an insane world
It exploded into a thousand pieces.

The seven capital sins

I dreamed that Envy
I wanted to be an Olympian goddess.
And that Lust would come and get me
With promises of Homeric bacchanalia.
But Laziness wouldn’t let me take it…

I dreamed of Gluttony
Making sweets that my grandmother used to make.
And with Superb parading her pride
On a naked catwalk.

I dreamed that Ira went crazy...
And that Avarice no longer cared
With so many losses, so many uses.

I woke up haunted...
In the turmoil of my dreams
Sins showed their human face.

A leap in the dark

In the beginning it was your eyes
Tired and furtive
A warm smile
An expression of almost anguish.

Then your marked body
Through the folds of the light dress
Breasts like living cups
Hips of mature woman
False skinny legs.

The heart beat uncontrollably
Libido ran through my body
Making an incredulous face blush.
That afternoon I gave my soul
Not knowing where it would flow.

Surely you noticed,
To later surrender
To the crazy days of a love without peace.

Gravity and dark energy

When I hear about relativity and these other Einsteinian worlds – or are they from Lewis Carroll? – it always occurs to me that a silent battle is taking place within the reach of our eyes.

On one side is Gravity, that old lady, raised in the shade of the English apple trees, who in her days of fury bends and contorts the light, as if arranging the folds of her dress, to exercise the control she thinks she has over the Universe. Here and there it shows its strength, throwing entire galaxies into a tiny hole.

In his hallucination, he imagines that, under his control, we will return to the starting point from which we came. To a kind of primordial womb that generated us, in a hallucinated birth that some call Big Bang.

But to his despair, a Black Goddess, probably daughter of Mother Africa – from where we one day emerged to behold her glory – tenaciously opposes his will. It pushes the Universe in multiple directions, far away from the great collapse.

Dumbfounded, the few observers of this Herculean battle call it Dark Energy, in a clear allusion to its origins.

Who knows, maybe one day, if we survive the madness of current times, in some forgotten place in the Universe, we will know the result of this conflict.

*Sergio Gonzaga de Oliveira He is an engineer (UFRJ) and an economist (UNISUL).

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