Roosters (~ Gallos de pelea) ' Filminin Konusu : Roosters is a movie starring Edward James Olmos, Sônia Braga, and Sarah Lassez. Gallo Morales is the proud patriach returning home after a seven-year stint for manslaughter. Seeking to re-establish his legendary status as a champion...
Alambrista!(1977)(7,4-528)
Saving Grace(1986)(7,1-487)
Triumph of the Spirit(1989)(6,9-2013)
Caught(1996)(6,5-1143)
millennium grubunun icindeki bir alt grup. owls ile catisma halindedirler. roosters, aynen teolojik belgelerin, incildeki ve diger dini kitaplarin isaret ettigi gibi kiyametin 2000 yilinda gelecegine inanmaktadirlar. kiyametten sonra yeni bir duzenin kurulacagina, safagin yeniden dogacagina olan inanclari, kelime anlami "horoz" olan bu ismi almalarina neden olmustur.
(the 8th endless - 27 Nisan 2003 02:31)
(bkz: elizabeth bishop)at four o'clockin the gun-metal blue darkwe hear the first crow of the first cockjust belowthe gun-metal blue windowand immediately there is an echooff in the distance,then one from the backyard fence,then one, with horrible insistence,grates like a wet match from the broccoli patch,flares,and all over town begins to catch.cries galorecome from the water-closet door,from the dropping-plastered henhouse floor,where in the blue blur their rusting wives admire,the roosters brace their cruel feet and glarewith stupid eyeswhile from their beaks there risethe uncontrolled, traditional cries.deep from protruding chestsin green-gold medals dressed,planned to command and terrorize the rest,the many wives who lead hens' livesof being courted and despised;deep from raw throatsa senseless order floatsall over town. a rooster gloatsover our bedsfrom rusty irons shedsand fences made from old bedsteads,over our churches where the tin rooster perches,over our little wooden northern houses,making sallies from all the muddy alleys,marking out maps like rand mcnally's:glass-headed pins,oil-golds and copper greens,anthracite blues, alizarins,each one an active displacement in perspective;each screaming, "this is where i live!"each screaming"get up! stop dreaming!"roosters, what are you projecting?you, whom the greeks electedto shoot at on a post, who struggledwhen sacrificed, you whom they labeled"very combative..."what right have you to give commands and tell us how to live,cry "here!" and "here!"and wake us here where areunwanted love, conceit and war?the crown of redset on your little headis charged with all your fighting bloodyes, that excrescencemakes a most virile presence,plus all that vulgar beauty of iridescencenow in mid-airby two they fight each other.down comes a first flame-feather,and one is flying,with raging heroism defyingeven the sensation of dying.and one has fallenbut still above the townhis torn-out, bloodied feathers drift down;and what he sungno matter. he is flungon the gray ash-heap, lies in dungwith his dead wiveswith open, bloody eyes,while those metallic feathers oxidize.st. peter's sinwas worse than that of magdalenwhose sin was of the flesh alone;of spirit, peter's,falling, beneath the flares,among the "servants and officers."old holy sculpturecould set it all togetherin one small scene, past and future:christ stands amazed,peter, two fingers raisedto surprised lips, both as if dazed.but in betweena little cock is seencarved on a dim column in the travertine,explained by gallus canit;flet petrus underneath it,there is inescapable hope, the pivot;yes, and there peter's tearsrun down our chanticleer'ssides and gem his spurs.tear-encrusted thickas a medieval reliche waits. poor peter, heart-sick,still cannot guessthose cock-a-doodles yet might bless,his dreadful rooster come to mean forgiveness,a new weathervaneon basilica and barn,and that outside the lateranthere would always bea bronze cock on a porphyrypillar so the people and the pope might seethat event the princeof the apostles long sincehad been forgiven, and to convinceall the assemblythat "deny deny deny"is not all the roosters cry.in the morninga low light is floatingin the backyard, and gildingfrom underneaththe broccoli, leaf by leaf;how could the night have come to grief?gilding the tinyfloating swallow's bellyand lines of pink cloud in the sky,the day's preamblelike wandering lines in marble,the cocks are now almost inaudible.the sun climbs in,following "to see the end,"faithful as enemy, or friend.
(fungess - 16 Nisan 2012 21:05)
Yorum Kaynak Link : roosters