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My first hip-hop song about Ludwig Wittgenstein. Enjoy

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A Bad Cut

You always know just before the blood comes...

there's no pain for just a single second maybe two, and then it starts

to hurt

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Child of Wonder

Child of wonder Child of sky Time to end your voyage Time to die. Silent slumber calls you Dark and deep Child of soft surrender Child of sleep.

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Child of sorrow Child of rain There is no tomorrow No more pain. Turn your silvered sail Toward the light Child of mourning Child of night.

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Child of iridescence Child of dream Stars and moons will guide you Down the stream. Stretched on ocean waves Of endless foam Welcome home my child Welcome home.

— Eric Whitacre, The Sacred Veil (choral masterpiece)

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Destroyers catch fire, by the 4-year old boy

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The boy who paints the war at sea

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Heart over the river

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City escape

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Star cuts

I open my wings and fall into the sky my sweet decision the stars rotate

chip-hard like minerals cool silver as if they would sharp as if they would wound

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when june afternoons murmur    endless summer daydreams    silk threads tentatively    cling to the clouds

© -Aubrie-2022

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“Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves; singing songs, drinking wine, diverting ourselves to just floating, floating; caring not a whit for the pauperism staring us in the face, refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call the floating world.”

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Wraiths

We're not real we haunt the floating world like wraiths we've missed the point and shot our bolts into the empty universe

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My bones belong to you

Give it a few months and you can pick up my clean bones if you like - and arrange them in any pattern that seems to work

or make a flute of my humerus and a little bowl from my scapula

I am an inky trace of you now on the papers on your desk then a god, for you alone, the sun's fire flashing from my eyes

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Not me, there

An old place - the sound of wind - only the forest listens

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What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

Blackfoot saying

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Night rise

Words tumble around me I cannot even look I don't feel them anymore it isn't me that started it

When the evening sun is this deep and purple covers all the clouds the night rises up quickly to snuff out everything we see