SCREAM FROM PORCH WARNS CITY PASSERBYERS

I was honored when https://soundcloud.com/graphicsontelevisions asked me to remake ‘Tattlesnakes’ from their fantastic album ‘Pun’. Maybe it’s the wildest one, unpredictable but coherent, it inspired me immediately !!

I've remixed to my taste their original studio stems (drums & keyboards), adding my own vocals, guitars & more... hard recommendation of headphones again !!

Lyrics are from another of my ancient poems, where I played with oxytone & eproparoxytone rhymes (translated below but with lost effect in English).

Full versions album here: https://soundcloud.com/graphicsontelevisions/sets/another-pun-a-brand-new
Downloadable: https://graphicsontelevisions.bandcamp.com/album/another-pun
I suggest checking out the original tracks too: @https://graphicsontelevisions.bandcamp.com/album/pun !!!

Letra  /  Lyrics:

Claro que ya no soy plástico,  /  Clearly I’m not plastic anymore,
ni estoy falto de razón,  /  nor lacking of reason,
puesto que, siendo simpático,  /  since, being friendly,
de sangre es mi corazón.  /  of blood is my heart.

Claro que soy esporádico  /  Clearly I am sporadic
en locos cantos espléndidos.  /  in splendid crazy singings.

Gritos de loco dolor,  /  Screams of insane pain,
llenos de mudo amargor,  /  full of mute bitterness,
claro que ya no son gélidos.  /  clearly are not icy anymore.

Claro que ya soy simpático  /  Clearly I’m yet friendly
y estoy falto de amargor,  /  and lacking of bitterness,
puesto que mi corazón,  /  since my heart,
siendo de sangre, no es plástico.  /  being of blood, is not plastic.

Y en mis cantos esporádicos,  /  And in my sporadic singings,
claro que ya no soy gélido.  /  clearly I’m not icy anymore.

Gritos de loca razón,  /  Screams of mad reason,
ya no gritos de dolor,  /  not screams of pain anymore,
claro que ya son espléndidos!  /  clearly are yet splendid!

ER00EC11

Tardigrade & Tattlesnakes (with Graphics on Televisions)

This is a track from my album TALES OF A NOMAD, a collection of impressions from decades of living a nomadic life for professional reasons.

Scream Of The Northern Plains

Written, performed and recorded by Neli CoKo, 2025, all rights reserved. 
Thank you for listening :) 

Original Photo by https://www.pexels.com/de-de/@alexazabache/

You And The City

LES PASSANTS DE LA PLUIE 

Tu rentres à l'aube ébouriffé comme un soleil 
A la lune, ta plume saigne de tout ses maux 
Tu rases les ruelles, les murs et les poubelles 
Découpent ta vie en lambeaux 

Trop vrai pour porter un costard dans leur parade 
Epingler un sourire au col de leur boutade 
Et dans les "places to be" jouer à qui ment le mieux 
Trop intact pour être comme eux 

Il faudrait faire semblant, jouer à être vivant 
Continuer d'être morne jusqu'à la fin des temps 
Mais mieux vaut être libre et se sentir en vie 
Que marcher dans le gris des passants de la pluie 

Dedans c'est le foutoir d' une chambre insalubre 
Alors tu prends ton paredessus usé de solitude 
Dehors le froid du nord mord déjà les passants 
Mais toi, ta liberté n'a pas de prise au vent 


Il faudrait faire semblant, jouer à être vivant 
Continuer d'être norme jusqu'à la fin des temps 
Mais mieux vaut être libre et se sentir en vie 
Que marcher dans les pas des passants de la pluie 

Si pour être soi-même il fallait renoncer 
Au confort, aux écrans, à la facilité 
Mieux vaut être Poète à poil devant la vie 
Qu' être clown à la fête des passants de la pluie
                                                             dlb2025

LES PASSANTS DE LA PLUIE

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Caught in the Non Act: excerpt upcoming "a Rock-or-Die Opera"
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music: beats and tune by szalap  @kacper-razdwarazdwa
// ...and additional samples
by fictionalive
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lyrics written and 
narration provided by fictionalive
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excerpt of:
The Stage On Which You Perform: a 'Rock-or-Die' Opera 
https://soundcloud.com/fictionalive/a-rock-or-die-opera


fusion of it all - fictionalive with the popoems series and the hyper media reports
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dropped
Thursday, August 8th, 2025
time - 10:39 AM Central European
Hot Summer Time Zone
today: chaos unfolds —
clouds weep showers of sorrow,
laughter born from disbelief

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// keep shining, crazy little diamond

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// *

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"Caught in the Non Act"

At first glance, the phrase seems paradoxical—a riddle whispered in smoke. To be “caught” suggests interruption, perhaps even exposure, yet what is unveiled is the “non act,” a moment defined not by what is done, but what is left undone, unwilled, unexpressed. Here, systems of intention and volition collapse; the actor is held—and holding—precisely at the threshold of action.

I. The Paradox of Presence and Absence

To be “caught in the non act” is to be present at the site of absence. This title evokes the liminal: a threshold where anticipation, hesitation, or silent refusal takes the stage. It aligns with Zen thought—the uncarved block, the sound of one hand clapping—gestures toward meaning that reside in emptiness, stillness, and restraint.

II. Agency in Inaction

Is inaction itself a form of agency? Existentialist thinkers such as Sartre argued that even not-choosing is a choice. To be caught in the non act is to dwell in the suspended animation of potential—the lived tension before choice crystallizes into commitment. Here, the subject is not powerless but powerful in withholding, sabotaging the momentum of events through refusal or hesitation. The non act radiates with possibility, every moment of not-acting echoing futurities never realized.

III. Surveillance and Self-Reflection

“Caught”—by whom? By others, or by the self? If the non act is witnessed, it takes on the texture of surveillance: the fear or thrill of being seen not doing. It is the existential snapshot of one’s truth in the gap, the moment between mask and face, a zone often more revealing than any overt gesture. Inwards, it becomes conscience—self-apprehension at the point of procrastination, moral paralysis, or pure contemplation.

IV. Contemporary Resonance

In an era pressed by productivity and ceaseless motion, “Caught in the Non Act” resists the cult of doing. It honors withdrawal, indecision, the strategic pause, and the mysterious freedom in simply not complying, not reacting, not perpetually performing. To be caught in the non act is perhaps to find, at last, a clearing in the relentless forest of demands—a sacred ambiguity where the self can listen more closely for the next true move.

V. Aesthetic Echoes

The phrase dances with ambiguity and negative space. Like a photograph of a ghost, it suggests presences that can only be glimpsed obliquely—what remains hauntingly unfinished, the beauty in longing rather than attainment. It is the space between musical notes, the silence that frames the utterance, the spell before awakening.

Final Reflection

"Caught in the Non Act" thus stands as a quietly rebellious banner—an enigma that encourages us to ponder the riches of stillness, hesitation, potential, and refusal. It asks us: what, in this stopped moment, have you discovered about movement, intention, and meaning itself? Sometimes—the non act is the truest revolution.

Caught in the Non Act: excerpt upcoming "a Rock-or-Die Opera"

Nothing like a pesky raccoon to stir things up a bit… Oh, hello. Glad you dropped by. A raccoon, I named Bandit, has taken up a vacation residence under the shed here. It’s right next to the raspberry patch and apple trees. A couple nights ago, Bandit snuck into my small greenhouse, where I grow tomatoes and peppers, and made a salad of the pepper plants, munching one plant completely down to the stalk. Bandit also likes the heavy crop of choke cherries here. He also uses the back corner of the vegetable garden as a latrine, which last summer was up on the house roof. I’d awaken with a start to hear little footsteps running across the roof. Luckily no roof excursions this year. Anyway, this is a Blues song with some solo banjo. Lyrically, it has a couple of reflections about life, mortality, gardening, relationships and partner expectations, letting go of life dreams, a nod to Bandit, the wacky weather, and making peace with old age. And of course, there’s a fair amount of daydreaming going on, while plucking banjo. Hope all is going reasonably well with you, wherever you are on Earth, during this whirlwind tour we’re on. Mark

Back Porch Banjo Blues

/ flip the script - take what speaks
/ popoems series / hyper media reports 
2001 / 2011 / 2024
fictionalive your life

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/ to(tally) fictionalive or not

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multi-layered, holistic art project

it speaks take what speaks

/ seen
I want to love – but I need to hate
I need to hate – but I want to love

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nor this nor that
no black and white
no left or right

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/ + / ⭕️ and the rest will follow


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welcome, traveler
made with passion 
just for you

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Caught in the Non Act: excerpt upcoming "a Rock-or-Die Opera"

fictionalive ⭕️