Shrill epistle

A whistle is an anonymous tone blown, from a bio-socio-megaphone

Sexless, non-ageist and quite possibly unique to humanity

Just a simple declaration, from the mind, stroke, the brain

Sent through the lungs, throat and face, till it’s free!

 

Why…

An old grandma, in Arkansas, can shrill a trill, you can’t ignore

A sumo man, based in Japan, can wolf-whistle you to the floor

A courting teen in Stroud, can rasp her call proud, through the crowd

And a London gent, could perhaps prevent, an accident, by tweeting aloud

 

Each call heard by everyone else

Each designed, not to mislead

But each could not identify

Which mouth, did each deed

 

Wait, what? You don’t whistle? Why?

You can’t? What do you mean?

You must, you’re a grown-up now

A new way to transmit your meme

 

Or…

To awaken sleeping policemen

Converse with alert sheepdogs

Announce you’re here or there

In country fog, or city smog

 

Listen, a whistle can hide you in white noise

Transmitting covert intelligence that annoys

Cryptography in the street, is quite a feat

While fine-tuning, your crooning in the aether, discrete

 

(To the audience, secretively)

Here’s the thing…

It’s a special way to sing

There’s a reason it evolved

But, which is, not yet fully solved

 

We inherited an advantageous behaviour

To communicate, whilst hiding our accent…

Our culture… or our intellect

It’s our binary bark

 

With all clues about, our status taken out

Perfect for communication, with whoever is about

Shakes matter and energy, of any wavelength

Or in the dark

 

See…

Man has his own code discreet, to drill or tweet

To survive defeat in, the cloud, field or street

So, of all the universal languages, we articulate

It’s the one I rate, to communicate, our fate

 

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