ON ZAPO DE RAY’S
IN THE HEART OF THE MACHINE
The angelic chord summons us,
A sweetening storm calming thunder
The rise of notes sliding across the inner sky
Of the mind. The sound soothes your brow
Shielding the thoughts caught with it
As time slows and snares you while ensuring
You remain unconfined. The chord evolves,
Shimmers, stays as if the host within
Is emerging, defining the shape
Of rebirthing through the inner egg
Of the ear. The machine of man stretched
By the cosmic force yolked within us,
A natural oil drawn from colours which seek
To harmonise with all fears.
An insistent tapping begins,
The rumble of ruins reforming,
Or some astral reminder of how
The workings within realign
With smooth sound as source,
Sound as soul sparking slow cloud,
Sending signals across the electric
To make this music which soundtracks
Somehow all of time.
In the heart of the machine rests the wind
As a guitar theme starts to gather.
The notes sound ecstatic as this ambient
Line elevates. It fills you with joy
And you are strangely buoyed in starred
Oceans. Less than three minutes in
Of this twenty and we grasp love’s true
Advantage at last over hate.
The sounds seem to spider, Entwined. The sounds
Glow and spiral. The spirit-cloud rises
And we are at one with the real.
Which is not of this earth
For machine and host span spun reaches
In which music teaches all that we know,
See and feel. The form gathers to gain
The musculature of the moment;
Flesh as soft metal grows like a David
Croenenberg gauze over blood
Which finds new patterns in rain
As mist turns to message
And the knocking sound rivers across
The barbarous land with fresh floods
Of cremasting flush and the sudden rush
Of desire, while around the slow fire
Of sensual skies sees night crowned.
This is swell as spell. This is that sky ripped
And seeping and this is earth weeping
As God as seducer sees bad Mother
Nature Bend down. Soon she will free all her sons.
Her ritual return has this music.
You will hear it play within thunder
And it will in sharing dreams leave its mark.
Light shines through the skin. Fresh forms
Emerge, energising. The Rib-cage
As cathedral housing musical spawn
Smears the dark. I am only half way through
And feel like Peter Quinn’s Star-Lord
Traversing star-oceans on a transformative
Craft of the soul. Civilisations are seen
Glimpsed in the cloak of cloud and God
Gasses. Nebulae nudging and dissipating
To tears sees space fold. There is benign
Dissonance here. For this is the sound
Of creation. This is the founding force
Shaking what it has come to make
As a toy. God, or whatever it is, a mad child
Playing at fate, shifting balance. As Zapo’s
Angelic chords begin cutting across
The slicing shifts of guitar, there’s dark joy
In whatever it is that comes next. Harmony
Becomes herald. The heart of his machine
Is organic, beating to break the steel air.
The ear then stalls fear. It is the black hole
In our bodies. That soft and strange portal
Through which the brain’s mystery
May be dared. This machine makes you new
The Host helps you see this. It’s becalmed
Opening shows you that while you float
Or swim you are held by a different process,
A point at which the flesh is peeled to show
Purpose as the secret root felt through
Music is how sign and space truly meld.
The chords sweep and clean. The synth
Takes your talking. You are travelling now
Through said portals. You are unravelling
Soon you will bare everything sensate,
Each pore. This is sound as skin.
This is the ear’s evolution.
This is the star’s revolution
Against the bracketing frame of our stare.
The Host welcomes you into a house
Without walls or shelter. Zapo De Ray
Builds a palace from intangible dreams
And dark stairs. You are his notes.
You are astronaut to his angel.
The music he has made lasts forever.
It is a hand through the cosmos
Humans you are not alone.
Someone sees you.
But we must listen to their learning
And then show them all
How to care.
David Erdos 16/2/23
https://zapoderay.bandcamp.com/album/in-the-heart-of-the-machine
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