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Eyes to See Blind Willie Johnson (d. 1945) trouble will be over, sorrow will have an end knife moans from a folded blade cut into night, made darkness visible and lengthened shadows on a neighbor’s groun’ we nods our heads when preacher says to bare our cross you bores it good, willie you bores it so you burned it down so’s when you laid on ashes your slide guitar had fired it ain’t mattered, none, that no one down here noticed (in nineteen hun’red and sumptin’) on dis here ground, where smoke lingers and souls sold to devil sings the blues i heared where you is now ain’t no jew, no greek, no black, no white no po’ folk no blind man down( up up but everythin’ is up as strings descend, king’s highway and go no motherless chile nor no more rain, titanic berths in ever dawn, and sea of glass ) sure as der’s a heav’n, willie, sure as der’s |
Additional Notes:
Merry Christmas!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2017-01-05 10:47:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
This sounds to be a lament and a testament to a soul singer in the very language of his music. excellent and entertainin