Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.
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Strive
They dare who will He does who can Such is the lot Of mortal man To attempt a deed To vie and strain With much to lose Yet more to gain To endeavor and fall To contend and win With lack of trying The only sin There is no shame To try and fail To…
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For Beverly
Beyond the next horizon Across another sea There is a world of wonder Waiting there to see As a wild dove must take to wing So it is with we Again we roam afar from home To find what there may be We take delight to see new sights And so we now must say…
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Of Helicopters and Humans (9) “Break Day “
Of Helicopters and Humans Part 9 Break day, the Real Laws of Physics, and the Poetry of belonging to the Lower Caste (written many years ago; any reference to the living, the dead, the demented, and the delusional, is entirely unintentional) It’s the morning of Break Day. Thank fu-fu-fu….. goodness. I get to go home…
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He and I
Oh, how capricious God must be To have made a creature such as me Did he blunder, did he err? Or did he shape this man with care? Could I have been brought forth in jest? Or did he really do his best? I am imperfect this I know But who was it that made…
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Why?
There is a man I’ve never known Who wants to do me harm He has been told to hate me This gives me great alarm There is a man I’ve yet to meet Who will try to do me ill Although he does not know me Yet he loathes me still This man is from…
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Tempest
There are omens in the heavens For those who choose to see Portents of events to come Which bode ill for such as we The breeze that wafted gently At mornings early light Has risen now the trees to bow And shifted birds in flight The sky we knew which once was blue Has taken…
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Riding high in an icy sky
A Blip in the Gulf (1) Riding high in an icy sky January 5, 2010. Pre-dawn. Intercoastal heliport. 05.00 am. Ffffff…..k. It’s cold. The temperature is down in the low thirties. A heavy frost blankets everything. Our rotor blades shine a dull white. It’s dark, quiet, save for the distant muttering coming from the passenger…
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The Gentle Drunk
The Gentle Drunk If you were a career old drunk in Dublin fair city in the nineteen seventies, then apart from begging, scrounging, watching the girls, and hoping for a hot meal, one other important consideration was “getting back to the hostel” in time. “Hostel” was perhaps too fine word. “Flophouse” would be politically incorrect.…
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The Outlaw
The Outlaw (I drove my motorbike to the sea) I watched a dreamer by the sea observe me,softly, haltingly, His face was tired but not unkind I sensed a windmill in his mind. Alone upon the beach he stood A member of the brotherhood I saw the biker garb he wore And knew I’d seen…
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“Fading Scars “
You may have cut me deep, and I may still be bleeding, but I have let you go, and you will never realize, what you did was wrong, though neive as I was, you kept me lingering on, The scars I bare, have made me stronger, and now I know better, That I was young…
Got any book recommendations?