On Ketamine and Princess Goes (to the Butterfly Musuem)


The dream pop blur that occurs
In an imagined LA Bar where dawn’s hazy
Ignites sleep’s flares for the crazy
Who line up to croon beneath stars

And allow this song to take shape
So that the air is poured and light stains you
As you pass soft doors full of fire
And stop, having danced there

To see tear strewn floors
Warp through scars.

The light is languid and splits
As this synth bass claims all music
By siphoning music and the future
Of sound to two notes

Before Hall’s sky-scented voice
Saunters in; the best I’ve ever heard
At that moment, with a melody
So persuasive that his words gape

Like gourmets and could be
The statements and sigils and the kinds
Of things sugar wrote. He is both
Songbird and Stipe, catching new futures

And colouring the sad present
With dark tasted water that with its
Dream drawn sheen makes Men float.

The song is called Ketamine

But takes us through ‘candy canyons’
Which in travelling stun us

As this singer shimmers, his soul
And star soaring as he exchanges with angels

The patterns and poise found in ‘You.’
Drums skitter like stars, freshly crushed
By slow cosmos, as synth and soul sashay
Within his ‘Disco bits kaleidoscopic view’

This could be the best song in our world
But it already is someone else’s.
Matt Katz-Bohens sonics transporting
Beyond (Vonnegut’s) Tralfamadore,

While Peter Yanowitz prepares flight
With sharply star-stung percussion
And Michael C. Hall’s ghost-rose vocal
Is an unravelling sun. Far floes thaw.

This incantatory song is a spell
Where each word used becomes wizard.
There is myth and Mars in the music
And as the sky oil seeps lost lands weep.

As ‘I’ leaves his ‘lonesome dream’
To get back to her and the daytime,

Our own perspective soon vapours
As we fuse with what forms us

And while we listen,
Start to ascend


Two albums and two eps
Are released as butterflies
Achieve rafters. And now,
With Dream, Beauty barters

To grant this song
And sensation
Its own uncanny fiefdom
In the precious borderlines

Between sleep.

I listen beguiled,
And turn to steam and dream
As I do so, flesh as flag
In unfurling and subject to change

As it creeps.  The girl’s near mutant eyes
Are a doll’s as her parent protector
Injects her. Here in Myth’s mansion
And spectacular light shadows taint

The slow motion blood dance
And egg as Tenebrae for transmission
From dream unto morning
And then back to dream

Wronged love leaps.



                                                                       David Erdos







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