The Unearthly Demagogue And His Amber Of Sorrows

by Wings Of An Angel

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When you remain alone for a long period of time, confined between four or more walls, but still confined nonetheless, an inner dialogue takes place inside you, thus the Unearthly Demagogue is born. Like in Fernando Pessoa’s psychobiography, many a personalities of varying stages of development, take over your psyche and engage in an everlasting psychoactive dialogue. As rich as this dialogue is and can be, you are nonetheless still locked between the prison walls of your own psychological limitations. This prison, in due time, becomes your safe haven; your very own Amber Of Sorrows, the very place you always escape to when the outside world threatens of annihilate your sense of self-identity.
This is however a Golden Cage. This world based upon interpersonal relationships, and for the most part, our spiritual/cultural development and progress take shape as a result of an interactive interaction with the world around us and its multitude of inhabitants, that is our fellow human beings. Consciousness is not an isolated solipsistic substance – it always expresses itself in a larger social framework and context. Therefore, as safe as your Amber of Sorrows might be, in order to keep moving and exploring new terrains, you must break free!
Slowly but surely, unleash the Unearthly Demagogue, with all the pain and longing it entails, to engage freely in the world, actively contribute and be contributed back, to love others platonically and romantically and be loved for who you are, a fragile multi-layered and vulnerable, all too vulnerable, human being.
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"This is music that carries the listener to the boundary between conscious and subconscious. listening is an ego dissolving and essence emerging journey to unknown or long forgotten parts of Self"
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"Wings of an Angel - The Unearthly Demagogue And His Amber Of Sorrows: Cool name aside, this one is my current favourite. One hour and forty-four minutes of deep, ambient variance to help you get lost in your work"
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(hereby is a transcript of a chanelling based on the music of the album by an anonymous female listener)

grey steel walls, subway terrain, moving underground, in public, but alone
some fear
every so often, a stop at a station
a hope, which rises and bubbles, aching against a noisy isolation
pain in the collision of heart and solitude, the echo bursts and its resonation colors all for some moments.
a new monster is born, raging at its chains (a grendel cousin?)
he releases his being into the struggle
clarity is then born
could it be beauty?
could it be you?

the train shoots forward, lightspeed
emerging from a tunnel, releasing its tracks
a journey upward, from the netherworlds
in search of?
a release to?
winds shudder the rudderless vehicle
unmoored
its mechanical snaking shifts in softening
its seperate parts joining at metal seams

as lightsound knits the wounds that threatened to bust the whole thing up
in one piece
an eye peeks out
with a view on the world streaming by
bit of shattered light sprinkled on the darkness

the ride is now smooth and wild
waves of water and the untethered train a bucking bronco

in ecstatic freedom
one eye still observing
from the driver's seat
though some other force steers this engine

could there be delight? like charlie and his grandpa, shooting up in the great glass elevator?

could those be angels drooling on the windows of your compartment? or something else?

1000 ghosts howl
rage at wasted moments
the hand not held
the face not stroked
the blame taken
the God made a punisher
the love lost....

a tornado spins and knitts its swirling menace beneath the surface of the howling spirit winds
the wheels screech on the tracks that have gone

hope is born again
crashing into the speed

suddenly, fists bang on the windows of the conductors car
he wants out, but outside, there is no gravity
though he feels heavy as a stone, tied with ribbon to a massive helium balloon.

a warped angel sings...

like a chorus from one of the STANS, almost human.

you crawl into a massive cello, which rocks you like a bowed lullaby in a wooden womb

and you sleep, and breathe.

a dream is born.

and you rest....

take a deep dive, go down.....
down into the dark waters
unknown nights
unknown tombs
unruly ghosts

overheard, the ghosts are chattering, calling their bets

another lost love moment on the human plane?

an angel sings, but she is flesh and blood, man.

such a big voice for such a small body. again in the air, he floats as she swirls around him. Her hair is like seaweed under water

he searches for a way out, a way in....spinning he loses direction

spinning, he plunges deep into the ground.

he feels his body against wet sand
feels sensation but can't move

his head pressing against the pulsing gateway to the cosmic womb: in this case, the open sky, as he is already through.

a back twist, and he's freed himself to land on the warm sand. he feels his feet. roots emerge, kissing the sand. his knees bent, center of gravity drops like a stone into the water, from his head to his center. he feels his power. choosing life. energy pulse up his feet, legs, loins. he grows in every direction. a faint howl as the ghosts are freed from their earthly bond and cravings.

like an hourglass...
he stands with the pulse of his own life's blood.

Therefore, as safe as your Amber of Sorrows might be, in order to keep moving and exploring new terrains, you must break free!
Slowly but surely, unleash the Unearthly Demagogue, with all the pain and longing it entails, to engage freely in the world, actively contribute and be contributed back, to love others platonically and romantically and be loved for who you are, a fragile multi-layered and vulnerable, all too vulnerable, human being.

an angel sings, but she is flesh and blood, man.

such a big voice for such a small body. again in the air, he floats as she swirls around him. Her hair is like seaweed under water

he searches for a way out, a way in....spinning he loses direction

spinning, he plunges deep into the ground.

he feels his body against wet sand
feels sensation but can't move

his head pressing against the pulsing gateway to the cosmic womb: in this case, the open sky, as he is already through.

a back twist, and he's freed himself to land on the warm sand. he feels his feet. roots emerge, kissing the sand. his knees bent, center of gravity drops like a stone into the water, from his head to his center. he feels his power. choosing life. energy pulse up his feet, legs, loins. he grows in every direction. a faint howl as the ghosts are freed from their earthly bond and cravings.

like an hourglass...
he stands with the pulse of his own life's blood.

credits

released January 17, 2015

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Wings Of An Angel Israel

Ambient magician and outsider poet-philosopher whose works blend these passions in fascinating ways. My life's work is to humbly give wings to my infinite psychedelic imagination. This ever-expanding alternative universe explores intimate mental landscapes, existential commentary and unorthodox humor wrapped in a holy trinity of Avant-garde sound art, thought-provoking titles & original covers. ... more

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