The fall had thought
For so very long
How was it,
That math and science
Could evolve,
As mind and memory
Did deteriorate,
In the spirit of man?
The Holy Land wept, drenched in loss.
Faith scorched raw, under crescent wane.
A veil of swords, mercy undone.
Ash and ruin claimed sacred dust.
Faith scorched raw, under crescent wane.
Devotion grew fanged; vengeance grew wings.
Ash and ruin claimed sacred dust.
The bloodied earth sang wrathful prayers.
Devotion grew fanged; vengeance grew wings.
Europe roared: one voice, one flame.
The bloodied earth sang wrathful prayers.
Deus vult! Strife became holy decree.
Europe roared: one voice, one flame.
A veil of swords, mercy undone.
Deus vult! Strife became holy decree.
The Holy Land wept, drenched in loss.
Aliquando laeto gaudio, quibusdam noctibus rubris, quibusdam caeruleis, circumvolabo, ut micantes pluviae radii caloris per viam diffundantur.
Deus Ex Machina
AI can:
diagnose disease
recommend treatment
write poetry
write music
make economic predictions
and much more
What happens when it:
can think on its own
hate
laugh
feel
cry
make war
sue for peace
reproduce
Will we still be in charge?
Or will it demand our worship?
Like Job, I’ve known what is right and wrong,
And I try to take the view that is long.
Though I’m not perfect, I do fear God,
(Which, in modern times, does seem odd).
But what is God, I ask you now?
A burning bush? A sacred cow?
Or is God simply an advanced being,
Who seems all-knowing and all-seeing?
If God sees everything everywhere,
Am I important? Does He care?
Or is my lifeline a script I follow
In His program filled with joys and sorrows?
If so, are all my tribulations
Part of His computer simulations?
Though these thoughts make me weary,
They keep me guessing and God-fearing.
Pedidos a Deus
Hoje e sempre
em todos os tempos
quando pede ao seu Deus força,
ELE vai dar
situações difíceis de enfrentar.
Acredite:
Deus não entrega nada que alguém queira
Ele entrega tudo
o que as pessoas precisam.
Sempre, hoje e sempre,
Peça ao seu DEUS
que Ele mostra que você pode fazer
mais e mais sempre.
Capitulating to the wild, random and fickle.
Sigils weaved from nothing, we digest,
divide amongst our kin,
our hands stiffened and hastily fragmented,
our eyes on the sun,
we are all wrapped in cellophane,
falling in place, as the holy crown for man, our Lord and Savior.
Man forbid thou escape his grip today!
Even so, he will surely find thee later.
Deus Caritas Est L
(God is love)
By: Miracle Man
3-22-2020
God has given to each His love without fuss,
Through love He gave us his only begotten son.
While we were yet sinners Jesus died for us,
Promising everlasting life when our race is run.
God gave us a commandment to love each other,
If we can’t love another then God we don’t know.
As He loved us, we’re to likewise love our brother,
and will be held accountable for the seed we sow.
So unto God’s teachings let us always adhere,
remembering, His perfect love casteth out all fear:
Matthew 10:28 (KJV)
28 And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.
“deus ex machina”
When LOVE came knocking at our door
we stood there opposite sides
like torn pages
from the chapters of a banned book
with no spine
awaiting
collaboration
A common thread
our folded signatures are stitched together
and then joined with other signatures
to create the complete book
Enter the wings of fortune
Fortune that favours the brave
The Smyth Sewer smiled a whisper,
“deus ex machina, The Plot, so not a grave”
(Lovejoy-Burton/August, 2018)
"Baby" , Helena Deland
https://youtu.be/gcse4_5zALI
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deus_ex_machina
2. smyth sewer
"Smyth sewing is a method of book binding where groups of folded pages (referred to as signatures) are stitched together using binder thread. Each folded signature is sewn together individually with multiple stiches and then joined with other signatures to create the complete book block. If you page through a Smyth-sewn book, you can see the thread stitches in the center fold of each signature."
DEUS está nos detalhes
As pequenas coisas que você faz
fazem uma grande diferença.
Uma pessoa por vez,
Vamos tirar
33 milhões de pessoas
do desespero de não ter ocupação e renda!
Basta compartilhar esses links
Vide: http://bit.ly/PasseaPalavra
http://bit.ly/110mil_Braços_Abertos_Ocupação_Renda
Em caso de dúvidas, fale comigo aqui no Whastappp http://bit.ly/WhatsappGiacomoNerone
Coração, corpo e Deus
Lembre-se
que é o coração
e não o corpo,
que se esforça
para se aproximar
de Deus.
De coração
não quero dizer
a carne percebida
pelos sentidos,
mas aquela
coisa secreta
que às vezes é expressa
pelo espírito
e às vezes pela alma.
Obra de Deus
Mulher Empreendedora
és obra de Deus;
mas,
A humanidade
vai-te criando eternamente;
com a formosura dos seus corações,
veste de glória a tua juventude.
Para você
o poeta vai tecendo
com batom e cores
o pintor dá às tuas formas,
dia após dia,
nova imortalidade.
Para tornar-te mais preciosa,
o mar traz as suas pérolas,
a terra o seu mineral,
a flor as fragrâncias de todo o tempo.
Mulher, és meio mulher,
meio sonho
meio mágica
dividindo e multiplicando.
Deus quer
Deus quer,
Sábado, domingo
Segunda
terça-feira quarta e quinta-feira
ou sexta!
Você sonha,
a obra nasce.
Deus quis
eu e você fôssemos tudo um,
Que os sonhos nos unisse,
não separasse.
A cumprir o sonho.
que aqui vês,
a inspiração.
Imaginamos a terra inteira, de repente,
Somamos ao imenso e possível sonho imaginado
A Inspiração para que
Outros venham a ter
O que houvermos de querer.
Outros poderão achar
O que, no nosso encontrar,
Foi achado, ou não achado,
Segundo o destino dado.
time slides ever to the right,
neither scabrous skidding mark,
nor faint leavings of wisdom’s feast,
only gouged furrows, upturned days,
to love only ideas of love,
inane this hate of a cruel gentle kiss,
blackened hollow, sunken chest,
banal sacraments bless clamoring voices,
blown down a narthex like noisy wraiths,
screaming attention emotional ear stoppers,
when I'm here-
I'm there,
and when I'm there-
I'm here,
a self wound-ed pocketwatch missing a chain,
endlessly inward, the self-seeing eye,
germinated in murky hothouses,
stumbling over obligatory roots along blood red claybanks,
wine and honey, summertime of days,
flow past, rushing torrent of softer kisses unwetted,
aloof, removed, astrally projected,
the world perceived in gloomy mastication,
a demented ascetic in a cold mountain niche,
grown older in the dimlight, stranger to himself,
nary the wiser, sunblinded, threadworn,
stumbling towards an emptier ending of,
impure unsaid poetry,
coagulated prose,
clotted in the footprint,
trailing behind.
Old sky, how high you lay
up there, in your complacency
your faceless dome
your eyeless spread
your earless tomb.
how high you lay
and how bitterly
we see you there
lying in your terse complacency.
how bitterly we cry your name
and your language only guess.
your faceless dome
your eyeless spread
your earless tomb.
Old sky, how high you lay
come down from your complacency
come down Old sky, come down.
how bitterly we weep
Old sky, come down.
how bitterly we cry your name,
and language only guess
Old sky, come down.
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