The Other’s World

Weird whispers cross datelines, fine lines / of immortal volition, a history of where the blues were born

The Other’s World

Weird whispers cross deadlines
fine lines of immortal volition
a history of where the blues were born
where winds that bounce and bound the man up
chain the man down.
 
Weird whistles cross datelines, fine lines of
immortal volition of history of where the blues were born.
 
Far off winds that bound the man up
chain the man down
Willy Wickers, Denny Falls
Willy wiggles, Denny falls
Willy wobbles and falls regular as daylight
like pain of uncured sickness like blowing relentless winds––
 
Wild whistles of whiskey wheels
tell secrets that cloak resolutions
eerie echoes bounce off brick brain blockades
and wandering unconscious valleys likes demons
in deep sleep holding, healing at bay
fencing the body off from the soul, from the voices of angels.
 
It's a commencement of reels at war of burden
for friends and foe, loved ones, enemies––it's a yoke
that dominates identity, distorts smells in the air.
 
Weird whispers cross datelines, fine lines 
of immortal volition, a history of where the blues were born.
 
Willy wiggles, Denny falls
Willy wobbles and falls regular as daylight like pain
of uncured sickness like blowing wind.
 
Wishes from other-ner's worlds well up inside
there is little isolation from weathered want, it's piped in
like air conditioning, it's piped in like air conditioning, 
it's piped up like air conditioning.
 
It creeps like a fake fog hiding all but itself.
The self is warped...watered down...withered.

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