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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.
—————
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.
—————
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
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