Esoteric Understandings

 

 

The given norm is to be a rock star -

A rock fan - a rock hardened man

As guitars take centre stage

Over the beat of traditional a drum,

    And we’re all playing in the air

Sharing something said to be so deep

Yet,

Electronica paves the way

For new forms of expression,

 

A deejay spins,

The marquee is filled with

Dancers – ravers getting high

On esoteric understandings

And there beside the side-line,

The onlookers are creating merry hell

As the TV promotes only that which

Only the obvious in denial know.

 

‘That sure ain’t music’

The old guard say,

‘That’s the Devil’s music.’

 

That’s fine with me,

Fine with me while the beat drops

And loops create the mesmeric

Understandings of the author –

The programmer whose only

Soul intention is to forget,

Forget within the time a trance

Track plays the cacophony

Of the real evil;

     That which the ‘old guard’ know.

 

     Modernism as aesthetic

As it is;- is loathed by those

Who claim the higher state of grace

With renditions of famous rock stars

Who only wanted fame while,

While the deejay plays the latest talent

That remains quietly on a pittance

Deep down within the underground,

     And though there are many famous

Tracks put together with screaming guitars

And basic four four beats,

You cannot beat the true sound of House

Where the fans can feel the empathy

Of a world that sits within decay,

 

     Take the stage deejay,

Play your heart out to the underground

And watch them dance away,

For dancing to the beat while

Sweeping synths and soulful voices

Accompany their movement are

All that’s left to tell

The tale of youth,

And though many are

Swayed by commercialism of

The rock-star and fear the changing

    Forms,

I’ll stay here within the dance hall

Or marquee,

Stay beside the grin

Of MOBO,

Stay beside the white man

Who knows what feeling

Has been missing for all these

Tortured years,

And dance upon

High levels of adrenalin and heartbeat

And declare within my deepest pride

That rides along the deepest forms

Of dance;

‘CHOOOOOOOOOOON Mister Deejay’

     Play it till the dawn

And don’t let us go home

To archaic forms of punishment –

The world within its ignorance

Seems keen to carry on,

Play it till the dawn then play again

Some more,

And I’ll celebrate this life

Until I drop.

 

Michael J Waite 4^th December 2012.