La Ayre Emmetika (pur Annebekka)

Clifford E. Sarke

renaissance lute-ayre, elizabethan melancholy, avant-garde madrigal, dark early music, transgressive

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STUDIO

[Male Lead Voice]
	[Female Backing Vocals]
	[Recorder, Lute & Bodhran]

[Female Backing Vocals: "Annebekka... Ooo-oo-oooo-oo-ooo..."]

[¶ I. Verse the First]

Behold the curdled Rose,
The Porcelain Masque,
In whose cold shade
I performed my slave-ish task;
I sought for honey
In a hive of gall,
(Hive of Gall.....)

And drank the nectar of my sudden fall —

O, Annebekka!
With thy waxen face,
Thou wove a web and called it —
"Bridal Lace".....
(Bridal lace.....)

[¶ II. Verse the Second]

Her "Phayke-lohv" Drench didst simmer in the pot.

A potion brewed of all that is forgot;
It tasted sweet,
Like fruit that’s over-ripe,
(Oh-ver-Ripe.....)

While in my chest,
A heavy, leaden grip —

Did swell and heave,
As though my soul would rise
To flee the venom of her glassy eyes...
(Her glassy eyes...)

[¶ III. Verse the Third]

My sinews rotted in her stagnant air,
Caught in the silvered tangles of her hair;
She fed me sighs that smelled of ancient dust,
(Ancient dust.....)

And called it "Passion",
Though 'twas only lust —

I was the Patient,
She the fever-chill,
Who broke my spirit
To sustain her will
(Sustain her will.....)

[¶ IV. Verse the Fourth]

But soft! —
The gag is cast,
The gorge is thrown, —
I reclaim flesh
That once was hers alone! —
The "Emetic" rite hath purged the poison through,
(Purged the Poison.....)

And washed my spirit of her —
Sickly hue...

Let miles of earth and leagues of salt-sea foam
Keep me from where that Phantom – 
Calls her home
(Calls her home.....)

[¶ V. Verse the Fifth]

Fly, weary legs!
Run from the gilded cage!
E’re She doth ink
Another blighted page.
Though I am weak,
And ghost-white from —
The Purge,
(From the Purge.....)

I sing no more her suffocating dirge...

For better to be starved in desert sands,
Than feast on rot from Annebekka’s hands.....
(Annebekka's hands.....)

From..... Annebekka's hands...

[¶ The "Mizmaze" Coda]
	[This part to be performed with a sudden, jarring shift from the previous 'liberated' tempo back into a frozen, dissonant ppp]
	["Visceral Vomit" Anti-Negi style, the music at this moment undergoes a Structural Collapse:]
	[The "Hedge" Texture: The left hand creates a "wall" of rapidly repeating, muffled staccato notes—like the rustling of dry leaves—while the right hand wanders aimlessly in a chromatic maze.]
	[The Sighting: At the moment he sees her, the music should hit a Sub-Bass Cluster. Not a loud one, but a deep, vibrating frequency that makes the listener feel physically "sinking" or heavy-limbed.]
	[The "Annebekka" Chord: As we discussed, she needs her signature harmony. I propose a Polychord: an Eb Major triad over a D Minor triad. It creates a "shimmer" of beauty (Eb Major) that is immediately soured and "sickened" by the D Minor underneath. It is the sound of that porcelain mask smiling in the garden.]

(Ooo-ohh-ohhhh-oh-oh-oo-ohhhh........)

(Ahh-ah-ahhh-ahh-ahhhh.........)

[¶ VI. Coda, Verse the Sixth]

The labyrinthine walls of green and thorn,
Did promise peace to one so travel-worn;
I turned the path, my breath a hollow rasp,
(Hollow Rasp.....)

To slip at last from out her Iron Grasp!

But lo! The hedge doth part with silent dread,
To show the Phantom I had thought —

Was Dead
(Thought was Dead.....)

[¶ VII. Coda, Verse the Seventh]

Lo! There sits She, on a bench of lichened stone,
With porcelain skin and heart of marrow-bone
She does not speak, She does not even chide —
(Does not chide.....)

With nowhere left for wretched man to hide —

The "Phayke-lohv" Dregs rise bitter in my throat,
As ‘round my neck, She pins her ghastly note
(Her ghastly note.....)

[¶ VIII. Lament, the Eighth)]

Ho-ohh-oh-ohh....
Woe to me.....

And thus...
The last case...
(The last case.....)

Is worse than the first!
(Oh... Worse than the First........!)

(Ooo-oo-oh-ohh-ho-ohh-ohhh............)

Worse than the First........!

(Oh-ohh...)

(Oh... Worse than the First........!)

[A Medieval Counter-Blazon, Lute-and-Recorder-Ayre, set for Lute, Recorder and Male Voice, in a discordant D-minor]

[The sound is Medieval throughout]

[Structural Notes for the "Ayre":]
[The "Heaving" Cadence: In the second stanza, the rhythm should stumble on "A heavy, leaden gripe," mimicking the physical sensation of the "Visceral Vomit" style]
[The Word "Phayke": A deliberate archaic-style spelling to denote that her love was not just false, but a synthetic, manufactured imitation of life]
[The Tone: It avoids the "Juliet" tropes by focusing on Physiology. Instead of a broken heart, the speaker describes rotted sinews and a leaden chest—moving the trauma from the spirit to the gut]
[A Medieval, Dowland-esque "Purge" feeling like a sufficient liberation from "Annebekka's" Phayke-lohv poison yet the Discordant chord at the very end to shows she’s never truly gone]
[The language is archaic, the meter is a rigid slow, 80 bpm, iambic pulse that falters into "heaving" pauses & the sentiment is one of profound, bile-stained relief!]
————————∞————————
©2026, All Rights Reserved, Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music for an original work. You are free to use this audio/video and its sound for non-commercial purposes such as public worship services, educational purposes, personal enjoyment and home entertainment. Attribution to the creator of the Original Work (Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music) is appreciated but not required. Monetization, commercial use, and distribution of this audio/video or its sound as sound waves, digital files, or notation in any form are not permitted without explicit written permission from the creator (Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music). All rights for personal use, performance, and monetization of this Original Work, are retained by Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music. For permissions, licensing, or further inquiries, please contact us at: azaleaparkemusic@protonmail.com.

💝You are warmly invited to share your comments or questions to "CES" (that's me), azaleaparkemusic@protonmail.com (I will NEVER dishonour your trust by violating your privacy!) Let me know you are a fellow songwriter/listener on Suno. 🙏(Blessings and Prayers)🖖(LLAP)

{La Ayre Emmetika (pur Annebekka), ℞ 074-203-131}

6662/7500

————————∞———————— "La Ayre Emmetika”, An Original Work; © 2026, All Rights Reserved Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music 'Clifford E. Sarke'/@cliffordesarke Pilot Version: https://suno.com/song/9b7fc816-5ebb-4152-9fab-8f323398996f ————————∞——— 💝at bottom See https://suno.com/playlist/aed02c23-b353-4393-9409-95043849109e For other versions of this song. (Link Only) ————————∞———————— [A 1600's 'Counter-Blazon' Ayre of Annebekka's ' Phayke-lohv'] [A Renunciation of the Pale Contaminant] [Male Lead Voice] [Female Backing Vocals] [Recorder, Lute & Bodhran] [Female Backing Vocals: "Annebekka... Ooo-oo-oooo-oo-ooo..."] [¶ I. Verse the First] Behold the curdled Rose, The Porcelain Masque, In whose cold shade I performed my slave-ish task; I sought for honey In a hive of gall, (Hive of Gall.....) And drank the nectar of my sudden fall — O, Annebekka! With thy waxen face, Thou wove a web and called it — "Bridal Lace"..... (Bridal lace.....) [¶ II. Verse the Second] Her "Phayke-lohv" Drench didst simmer in the pot. A potion brewed of all that is forgot; It tasted sweet, Like fruit that’s over-ripe, (Oh-ver-Ripe.....) While in my chest, A heavy, leaden grip — Did swell and heave, As though my soul would rise To flee the venom of her glassy eyes... (Her glassy eyes...) [¶ III. Verse the Third] My sinews rotted in her stagnant air, Caught in the silvered tangles of her hair; She fed me sighs that smelled of ancient dust, (Ancient dust.....) And called it "Passion", Though 'twas only lust — I was the Patient, She the fever-chill, Who broke my spirit To sustain her will (Sustain her will.....) [¶ IV. Verse the Fourth] But soft! — The gag is cast, The gorge is thrown, — I reclaim flesh That once was hers alone! — The "Emetic" rite hath purged the poison through, (Purged the Poison.....) And washed my spirit of her — Sickly hue... Let miles of earth and leagues of salt-sea foam Keep me from where that Phantom – Calls her home (Calls her home.....) [¶ V. Verse the Fifth] Fly, weary legs! Run from the gilded cage! E’re She doth ink Another blighted page. Though I am weak, And ghost-white from — The Purge, (From the Purge.....) I sing no more her suffocating dirge... For better to be starved in desert sands, Than feast on rot from Annebekka’s hands..... (Annebekka's hands.....) From..... Annebekka's hands... [¶ The "Mizmaze" Coda] [This part to be performed with a sudden, jarring shift from the previous 'liberated' tempo back into a frozen, dissonant ppp] ["Visceral Vomit" Anti-Negi style, the music at this moment undergoes a Structural Collapse:] [The "Hedge" Texture: The left hand creates a "wall" of rapidly repeating, muffled staccato notes—like the rustling of dry leaves—while the right hand wanders aimlessly in a chromatic maze.] [The Sighting: At the moment he sees her, the music should hit a Sub-Bass Cluster. Not a loud one, but a deep, vibrating frequency that makes the listener feel physically "sinking" or heavy-limbed.] [The "Annebekka" Chord: As we discussed, she needs her signature harmony. I propose a Polychord: an Eb Major triad over a D Minor triad. It creates a "shimmer" of beauty (Eb Major) that is immediately soured and "sickened" by the D Minor underneath. It is the sound of that porcelain mask smiling in the garden.] (Ooo-ohh-ohhhh-oh-oh-oo-ohhhh........) (Ahh-ah-ahhh-ahh-ahhhh.........) [¶ VI. Coda, Verse the Sixth] The labyrinthine walls of green and thorn, Did promise peace to one so travel-worn; I turned the path, my breath a hollow rasp, (Hollow Rasp.....) To slip at last from out her Iron Grasp! But lo! The hedge doth part with silent dread, To show the Phantom I had thought — Was Dead (Thought was Dead.....) [¶ VII. Coda, Verse the Seventh] Lo! There sits She, on a bench of lichened stone, With porcelain skin and heart of marrow-bone She does not speak, She does not even chide — (Does not chide.....) With nowhere left for wretched man to hide — The "Phayke-lohv" Dregs rise bitter in my throat, As ‘round my neck, She pins her ghastly note (Her ghastly note.....) [¶ VIII. Lament, the Eighth)] Ho-ohh-oh-ohh.... Woe to me..... And thus... The last case... (The last case.....) Is worse than the first! (Oh... Worse than the First........!) (Ooo-oo-oh-ohh-ho-ohh-ohhh............) Worse than the First........! (Oh-ohh...) (Oh... Worse than the First........!) [A Medieval Counter-Blazon, Lute-and-Recorder-Ayre, set for Lute, Recorder and Male Voice, in a discordant D-minor] [The sound is Medieval throughout] [Structural Notes for the "Ayre":] [The "Heaving" Cadence: In the second stanza, the rhythm should stumble on "A heavy, leaden gripe," mimicking the physical sensation of the "Visceral Vomit" style] [The Word "Phayke": A deliberate archaic-style spelling to denote that her love was not just false, but a synthetic, manufactured imitation of life] [The Tone: It avoids the "Juliet" tropes by focusing on Physiology. Instead of a broken heart, the speaker describes rotted sinews and a leaden chest—moving the trauma from the spirit to the gut] [A Medieval, Dowland-esque "Purge" feeling like a sufficient liberation from "Annebekka's" Phayke-lohv poison yet the Discordant chord at the very end to shows she’s never truly gone] [The language is archaic, the meter is a rigid slow, 80 bpm, iambic pulse that falters into "heaving" pauses & the sentiment is one of profound, bile-stained relief!] ————————∞———————— ©2026, All Rights Reserved, Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music for an original work. You are free to use this audio/video and its sound for non-commercial purposes such as public worship services, educational purposes, personal enjoyment and home entertainment. Attribution to the creator of the Original Work (Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music) is appreciated but not required. Monetization, commercial use, and distribution of this audio/video or its sound as sound waves, digital files, or notation in any form are not permitted without explicit written permission from the creator (Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music). All rights for personal use, performance, and monetization of this Original Work, are retained by Clifford E. Sarke/Azalea Parke Music. For permissions, licensing, or further inquiries, please contact us at: [email protected]. 💝You are warmly invited to share your comments or questions to "CES" (that's me), [email protected] (I will NEVER dishonour your trust by violating your privacy!) Let me know you are a fellow songwriter/listener on Suno. 🙏(Blessings and Prayers)🖖(LLAP) {La Ayre Emmetika (pur Annebekka), ℞ 074-203-131}

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