Art for the Artist

Wed, 08/14/2013 - 20:22 -- Dany

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Mr. Baldwin once told me a story.

We followed a young man. He was dying.

I wept. But Mr. Baldwin smiled at me – 

The man was loving, living, and playing.

 

I grew anxious. To be a musician…

To not simply see fear, but to touch it;

To submit to blood and sun of passion;

To taunt and tempt rage; to feel the spirit!

 

At the time, I thought music was music.

But I know why he kissed the world with notes.

Universalism unnerves the sick.

I want to climb, so I break through the moats.

 

His music and your soul are my words. Who’s?

My name is Sonny, and I have the blues. 

Poetry Slam: 

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