Darkly evocative of dystopia -- scary and inspiring at the same time! -- many thanks!

phantom 👻 file

Someone promised to wait.
To wait beyond.
Beyond the hourglasses and the mounds of swollen flesh.
Beyond the cuneiform codices, the spiral labyrinths, the bone flutes of extinct birds.
Past the pyramids of time and the colossal granite dolmens slumbering beneath Antarctic glaciers.
But no one came back.

The song is the lament of those who still hope to say goodbye.
To say goodbye fiercely—with their eyes, with their hands, with everything that exists beyond the body.
To part with such violence that reality thins, and the blazing ground of grass takes on the texture of dragonfly wings.
The voice of the one still waiting calls out, demands, roars through the wound that a heavy slab carved with the word “LOVE” can barely cauterize.
The slab of a forgotten grave, in a windswept cemetery on the Atlantic coast.
At the edge of a cliff where—warmed by magma beating to the phases of the moon—earth, ocean, and sky fuse together: into amber, into lead, into cobalt.

When those who wait begin to sing, their voices pierce the unyielding concrete of nuclear reactors, the crust of the earth, the frozen core of the gas giants in the solar system.
Their voices rattle dead loudspeakers, tear through the white noise of radios lost in the ether, whisper in the echoes of abandoned cathedrals, and sigh in crackling exhaustion through the worn-out waiting rooms of hospitals.

You can’t stop their voices from rearing up inside your eardrum, nesting forever in the synapses of your auditory nerve—so you can carry them far.
Perhaps all the way to the one who never received the goodbye.

Pictures: Lht
----
Alguien prometió esperar. Esperar más allà. Más allá de los relojes de arena y de los montículos de carne tumefacta. Más allá de los códices cuneiformes, de los laberintos en espiral, de las flautas de hueso de pájaros extintos. Allende las pirámides del tiempo y los colosales dólmenes de granito que dormitan bajo glaciares antárticos. Pero nadie volvió.

La canción es el lamento de los que esperan poder despedirse. Despedirse intensamente. Con los ojos, con las manos, con todo lo que hay más allá del cuerpo, despedirse con tal violencia que la realidad se adelgace y el suelo fulgurante de hierba adquiera consistencia de alas de libélula. La voz de quien aún espera reclama, inquiere, brama a través de la herida que una pesada losa con la palabra "AMOR" apenas logra cauterizar. La losa de una tumba olvidada, en un remoto cementerio azotado por el viento del Atlántico. Al borde de un acantilado donde, calentados por un magma que late siguiendo las fases de la luna, tierra, océano y cielo se fusionan; en ámbar, en plomo, en cobalto.

Cuando cantan los que esperan, sus voces atraviesan el hormigón implacable de los reactores nucleares, la corteza de la tierra, el núcleo congelado de los gigantes gaseosos del sistema solar. Sus voces sacuden altavoces desconectados, rasgan el ruido blanco de las radios perdidas en el éter, susurran en las reverberaciones de catedrales abandonadas, y suspiran crepitantes en las extenuadas salas de espera de los hospitales.

No puedes evitar que sus voces se te enjirafen al tímpano y aniden eternamente en las sinapsis de tu nervio auditivo, para que las lleves bien lejos. Tal vez hasta quien no pudo recibir el adiós.

Llévame lejos

OtisPacific Music and La Marini Poetry Original re-worked

Guides (re-mastered)

Lost languages are like bones buried beneath shifting sand—remnants of once-living voices that shaped worlds now unreachable.

An Alphabet Drowned in Milk

“The Schüßmann Waltz” by Luke

As a kid with a unique last name I’ve always wanted to write create my own Waltz piece..
Jodi (my wife) said it sounds like a music box so with a comment like that ..my work is done 😂

Keys & Piano & Synthesizer & Guitar & Drums  by Luke
Created & Composed & Produced by Luke
Music & Track & Album Photos by Luke
Photography by Luke
I use Open A.i for Album art pictures 

                           Beats by Luke©️
                       Luke H. S c h ü ß m a n n©️

“The S c h ü ß m a n n Waltz” by Luke

if you know, you know.

saving misasa's soul 00:00
highleadon 06:28

saving misasa's soul/highleadon

After Pulse

Strange Things (Remix)

Misk - Devourer (Mastered)

Check out the visuals here:
https://youtu.be/Nbl2qvJHBB8

Abstracted

Let yourself drift in a sea of dark rippling synth bass, haunting vocal elements and downtempo hiphop beats... 
Some questions will always remain unanswered...
Watch the video here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKbc1hha878

I look up and see the sky
And I'm left to wonder why

White Noise

Soft Ghost

Free Download!

Bombs Away - Pokemon GO Remix

free download

it's different - Pokemon Ü (ft. Broderick Jones)

Stay with the movement.
Instagram - instagram.com/nikelodeonmusic
Facebook - facebook.com/nikelodeonmusic

NIKELODEON • The Underground Awakening Vol.2 • [2017 Mixtape]

Transformers: Prime

Made for ambientonline's 63rd One Sample Dare, from a clip supplied by https://soundcloud.com/user-859240368. 

See https://www.ambientonline.org/forum/ambient/ao-challenges/91594-one-sample-dare-challenge-63 for details and other responses.

They gather, they wait [AO OSD 63]

Original Singer : https://www.facebook.com/TheRealLifeOfPikachu/
FREE DL : https://goo.gl/mNDGI1 (Ask him)

Pokemon (Dubstep Remix)

UK creatives should listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK4wBWiozyM

You must hear this: https://vimeo.com/52766051

*****

Ed Brunsden was kind and patient enough to interview me for  his blog Desert... Mountain... Dust...  - you can read it at https://desertmountaindust.blogspot.com.au/2017/02/tuonela-primitive-progressive.html

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. ~ Aldous Huxley

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it. ~ Jean Cocteau

All music is beautiful. ~ Billy Strayhorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've become addicted to drone. Again. I was the kid with his head on the piano, listening to the overtones die away, or pressing his ear to the steel hull of the ferry, enthralled by the sounds it created. I was the kid who formed wordless songs to accompany the sound of train wheels on a long journey, or hummed along with the fan on a hot day.

In the 60s I used to play my 45s on 16, or backwards, or by hand using razor blades as stylii.

I made cut-up tapes on a cheap cassette recorder in the 70s and experimented with reel-to-reel in the 80s. 

Thank you Subotnick, Lygeti, Coltrane, Jimi, Mimaroglu, Eno, Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Frank Zappa, Pink Floyd, Kraftwerk, Throbbing Gristle...

I am not a musician. I am a scavenger of sounds. I use the most basic software to process those sounds, stretching and filtering until something emerges that makes a joyful noise. Or not...

They gather, they wait [AO OSD 63]

Tuonela

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