UFO-Related Homicide in Brazil (2)
Remember this song?
Mankind’s wishes may thousands of years in the future show its execrable, most large in abominations degraded face; a posterity devoid of the wet gleamy soulfulness as one can meet even in the smallest creature, of lower berth than animo acids which lead from a pre-biotic world to trees of life shooting out barren grounds, and strayed far off from the faculties of wisdom, moral excellence and quietude which crowns in any known epoch an individual to seigneur.
The current trend of a cut for pleasure, the body plastinized and recycled in a rejuvenation frenzy, the scavenging of the dead and the comatose to harvest the life essentials in a bid to efface the second and last security in one’s existence, the recoil from dank gloomy ugliness to embrace shiny orderly symmetry, could descend into bizarre and forlorn manifestations, ravaging what made life a fire in men to strive for great creative achievements of the mind and of hands.
But the transgression of the will and technology might however accrete into a situation wherein frail, mindless but vicious beings without a spark of real intelligence nor a sparkle of affective, emotional flavour roaming like empty automats in a self-supporting and all-providing technological environment, entertain recollections of their past and the system helps them to bridge the evolution of their species to our time, when mankind still held a position between the animal kingdom and the realm of the Prime Mover; by some deemed insignificant, but a sea would be just a mass of water without infinite grains of sand to girdle these huge liquid bodies.
Perhaps some vague echo spooks around their numb remainder of a brain, and one can only guess what drives them to collect those parts of the bodies of quivering mucous qualities, which repel and yet are so inherent to the well-functioning of our being; and maybe as a sympathetic connection to a long since forgotten notion of what it means to be really human and not a designed mannequin, they adorn themselves with cult objects of blood, tissues and innards, a rite gone berserk and a vile palid patchwork of flatlined spirits….
Mankind’s wishes may thousands of years in the future show its execrable, most large in abominations degraded face; a posterity devoid of the wet gleamy soulfulness as one can meet even in the smallest creature, of lower berth than animo acids which lead from a pre-biotic world to trees of life shooting out barren grounds, and strayed far off from the faculties of wisdom, moral excellence and quietude which crowns in any known epoch an individual to seigneur.
The current trend of a cut for pleasure, the body plastinized and recycled in a rejuvenation frenzy, the scavenging of the dead and the comatose to harvest the life essentials in a bid to efface the second and last security in one’s existence, the recoil from dank gloomy ugliness to embrace shiny orderly symmetry, could descend into bizarre and forlorn manifestations, ravaging what made life a fire in men to strive for great creative achievements of the mind and of hands.
But the transgression of the will and technology might however accrete into a situation wherein frail, mindless but vicious beings without a spark of real intelligence nor a sparkle of affective, emotional flavour roaming like empty automats in a self-supporting and all-providing technological environment, entertain recollections of their past and the system helps them to bridge the evolution of their species to our time, when mankind still held a position between the animal kingdom and the realm of the Prime Mover; by some deemed insignificant, but a sea would be just a mass of water without infinite grains of sand to girdle these huge liquid bodies.
Perhaps some vague echo spooks around their numb remainder of a brain, and one can only guess what drives them to collect those parts of the bodies of quivering mucous qualities, which repel and yet are so inherent to the well-functioning of our being; and maybe as a sympathetic connection to a long since forgotten notion of what it means to be really human and not a designed mannequin, they adorn themselves with cult objects of blood, tissues and innards, a rite gone berserk and a vile palid patchwork of flatlined spirits….
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