Zero Gravity

/ emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast /
/
— rollout, transmission, odyssey begins — 

the incoming age of melancholy:
not simply an era nor a season, but the endless twilight borne of every choice and every surrender,
woven from the threads of every generation’s longing—now, at last, unraveling before our eyes.

it begins as a hush—
not even silence, but something deeper:
the collective holding of breath as we pass through threshold after threshold,
unwilling—unable—to look back
at what still burns on the distant altars,
the cost we never counted,
the price we always assumed someone else would pay.

here, the mountains are made not of stone but of unsent messages,
unspoken apologies, unreached hands.
here is the valley of sacrificed afternoons,
where children chase phantoms,
where memory loses its shape under blue electric light,
where elders recall the scent of rain on pages, the music of patience.
here, the rivers are sorrow and the bridges are compromise,
some scorched, some crossed in regret,
most never rebuilt.

who are we, now, on this side of the threshold?
we—the bold, the bruised, the lonely inheritors of immeasurable plenty and exquisite emptiness—
we raise towers in tribute to unseen gods,
wireless cathedrals and temples that promise everything and deliver
only the ache of again, again, again
another update, another offering, another blinking vigil.

in the age of melancholy, every blessing is double-edged.
comfort comes yoked to numbness;
speed, to the erasure of slow becoming;
certainty, to the narrowing of all that is possible
and the slow extinction of wild hope.

“what did you give for this?” asks the old voice inside—
and we hush it with data, with noise,
with things that will never love us back.

our gods are many—everywhere, nowhere—
famous for a season, then discarded,
as fickle as the pulse in a liquid crystal display.
once, gods demanded faith, sacrifice, story and song.
now, they demand only attention—
bring us your tired eyes, your restless mind, your need to be known.
and in return, they give us chains so beautiful,
we praise them as gifts.

but beneath the wafer-thin bounty, the banquet of quick joys—
the shadow:
for every god installed, something sacred is displaced,
every new device arrives with its own silent requirement
that some part of us—ancient, slow, shimmering—must be left behind.

still, we are the ones who choose, trembling though we are—
again and again, at every threshold:
the altar, the new coin of the realm,
purchase paid in what cannot be replaced.

no one warned us that all this ease would cost us ourselves,
that to belong to the gods of now is to mourn what made us human—
the bruises, the breaks, the precious awkwardness of becoming.

what is melancholy, in this thunderous shadow,
if not the noblest form of remembering?
not a sickness, but a wisdom, a refusal to let the soul’s lost countries be overrun
without one last prayer, one last song.

let us be brave enough to mourn,
bold enough for the trembling joy in sorrow—
to sit by the ghost-lit ruins of intimacy and warmth and hope,
and refuse the command to forget.

for in this age, courage lies not in the conquest of new things,
but in the deep humility of honoring what is lost—
the quiet grace of looking back, and bearing witness,
and speaking to the brave few who will listen:

remember—
before the gods of upgrade and speed,
we danced in forests, we bled and healed together,
we built fires for each other’s warmth,
we told stories that did not sell,
and we were not ashamed to love slowly,
to grow bruised and then strong with time.

may we, the humbled .....
........4'000 characters.. there's more to it, sorry....

/ lyrics: fictionalive
/ music: a tiny excerpt of the epic mighty double dutch DJ Set
Kasheme's Local Digger Session w/ Murphy & Cavaliere Spruzzi (Save the Vinyl / monorecords)
https://soundcloud.com/kashemezurich/kashemes-local-digger-session-w-murphy-spruzzi-save-the-vinyl-monorecords

Odyssey begins - Age of Melancholy Incoming // The Last Custodians of the Old Music

A song about the walk to my heaven on Earth. 

HeavenOnEarth

/
Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building
/
/
lyrics: fictionalive
music: mobygratis
written, produced, licensed, and provided
by mobygratis
/
coVer ArT fictionalive DYI, wall shot 01.001.02
/
fusion of it all - fictionalive with the popoems series and the hyper media reports
/
/
dropped
Wednesday, August 6th, 2025
05:50 AM Central European
Hot Summer Time Zone
today, not so so much so
/
/
*
/
// keep shining, crazy little diamond

/

/
What's it all about..
/

"Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building"

This title, poised on the cusp of irony and indictment, addresses its subject with the stylish precision of a rapier’s point. It evokes not a dusty treatise, but an invitation—a salon, a stage, a chamber in which the ghosts of history pace the parquet floors still.

First, observe the flourish: “Colonial Powers,” those familiar colossi, are not consigned to the tomb of history but linger on, uncannily present. The subtitle—“The Legacy That Never Left The Building”—is, for the feuilletonist, a masterstroke of sardonic wit. It both plays on the pop idiom (“Elvis has left the building”) and subverts it; here, the ‘star’ of colonialism remains stubbornly present, lingering in the architecture, policy, and psyche of postcolonial spaces.

A featherlight sarcasm hovers above the phrase, the kind that—with a knowing wink—invites the reader into a tacit complicity: of course the legacy never departed; did we ever truly believe otherwise? The construction conjures irony, a chief weapon of the feuilleton, and implies a skepticism learned by long acquaintance with the tricks of history and the repetition of power.

In the grand tradition of feuilleton writing, the title itself is both diagnosis and epigram. It distills a complex and ongoing wound—economic, cultural, and psychological—into a phrase brisk enough for any café table debate, yet sharp enough to lacerate complacency. The cadence, with its comma and deft repetition, creates a rhythm of announcement followed by wry afterthought: here is the topic, here is the verdict, subtle as a raised eyebrow.

Stylistically, it profits from the feuilleton’s hybrid nature: journalistic immediacy (this is happening now, everywhere); literary artistry (the phrase hits with double entendre); societal critique delivered with a velvet touch. It would not be misplaced, one suspects, at the bottom of a Sunday paper’s cultural page—nestled among witty rebukes, conversations with old Europe, portraits of vanished grandeur, and exposes of lingering injustice.

In sum: the title stands as a crisp, satirical banner—lucid, layered, and perfectly feuilleton. It raises its subject not with ponderous solemnity, but with the bracing, intimate skepticism that is the feuilleton’s signature. On guard, indeed: the building is filled with echoes, and this title leaves no doubt that someone—or something—has stayed behind.

Plaintext and ready for instant release, Captain!

Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building

Dance Hall

Inspired by Jorge Morel's Danza Brasileira 
His years of countless serenades are manifested in his face as well as this fast paced Danza styling.
His six string reverberates through the streets and nearby alleyways.

Danza Brasileira

Hello everyone,
this is the second part – or rather, another chapter – of my musical theater project.
For this song, I’m lucky enough to be joined by Sarah Paradise-Brown, whose incredible voice gives this piece a very special depth.

"Blood" is a song about a seemingly hopeless love between a woman and a vampire. It tells a story of longing, danger, and the bittersweet realization that this love can never be fulfilled. Between attraction and pain, both struggle with the desire that binds them and the necessity of letting go so they won’t destroy each other. 



Blood

Your scent is moonlight on the wind
A promise wrapped in trembling skin
I hold you close, but not too near
For what I want is what you fear

You breathe like fire beneath restraint
Your touch is warm, your world is faint
And though your lips could steal my soul
I’d give you all, and not feel cold

You shine where I can never go
But still I linger in your glow
If love means letting go of fire
Then let us rise above desire

Blood is calling from below
Blood is more than I should know
Blood would turn the night to me
But love… wants more than destiny
Blood is silence wrapped in sound
But love is where we won’t be bound

I've tasted death in every shade
But nothing made me feel this way
You made the world turn soft and slow
And showed me things I’ll never know

You gave me truth without disguise
A world of pain beneath your eyes
But I can't live with what you are
Even love can’t cross that scar

I want you…
I know...
I need you…
But we can’t...
So hold me once, then let me go
Don’t drink the love we’ve come to know

Blood is beating like a drum
Blood is where we both came from
Blood could bind me to your name
But love is not a thing to tame
Blood may sing, may plead, may flood…
But not tonight, not with blood

If I must live without your flame
Then I will carry still your name
If I must walk into the day
I’ll dream you home some other way
Some love survives, 
survives in broken light
But not tonight…

Not with blood!


_______________________________
Credits:
Vocals: Sarah Paradise-Brown &  Axel Menningen
Music: Axel Menningen
_______________________________



Blood

a new track from Will, from his recent album 'This Moment'. Recorded and Produced by Mike Bryant.

Crazy In Lust

The Sailor's Tale

Mac , music , lyrics , vocals
Scotty , lyrics , vocals
Shane , lyrics , vocals

Well the night’s effervescent and I’m on fire
Full of anti depressants to blunt my ire
Well aware of the presence of my desire
It feels very pleasant as I get higher
And I’m clad in a fashion to catch the eye
So why does everyone ignore me as I walk by
It would be a different story for a different guy
But I’ll never find the glory unless I try
So why do I lie so low 
Why don’t I let them know
Let them bask in the glow
Of my ghetto falsetto

Most are fucked up from the drugs they take,
and don't care to interrupt all the love I make,
but I can't quite erupt so, I'll simply fake,
and make believe
that I have climaxed, because all the noise
that keeps me far from relaxed and trapped in the void, 
I've always had a clean nose but perhaps I'll toy 
with singing in falsetto. 

These streets are full of cackles and high pitched screams
A ghetto manifesto haunting my dreams
Monotone narration to a story I know
A baritone ending won’t leave me alone
I’m not crazy it’s the world around me
I’ll deal with the shit eventually 
Then get past the truth I know
That I’m too low for ghetto falsetto

But it don’t mater how high or how low 
Unless you mean it nobody will know
All you need is the seed and the get go
Let go of the ghetto falsetto

Ghetto Falsetto



A glass of water for me

A glass for you

A glass of water for me

A glass for you

But when they steal it from us

What will we do?


Oh, oh, what a pain

Oh, oh, what a taste


Last week

I was in town

I was thirsty

So I stopped

I asked for a glass of water.

I saw the sign

It said: "Free water for everyone"

So I went in

But I realized they tricked me.


A glass of water for me

A glass for you

A glass of water for me

A glass for you

But when they steal it from us

What will we do?


 Oh oh, what a pain

Oh oh, what a taste
 

A glass of water for me

A glass for you

A glass of water for me

A glass for you

But when they steal it from us

What will we do?


Oh oh, what a pain

Oh oh, what a taste


Since they rationalized

Since they privatized

They put it in that place

And everyone happily laughs heartily


Oh oh, what a pain

Oh oh, what a taste

Oh oh, what a pain

Oh oh, what a taste


https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZgNLPV8gA0&feature=shared

https://open.spotify.com/album/6noJtLc9TWLN09zpwzppKE?si=T8KjHu-XSn6eQMSSXsve_w

https://music.apple.com/us/song/un-bicchiere-dacqua/1833347401


https://music.amazon.it/albums/B0FM8F596G?marketplaceId=APJ6JRA9NG5V4&musicTerritory=IT&ref=dm_sh_LV1qSPjnoB8lq9wvMi5jqN3pv&trackAsin=B0FM8CLB7H



Un Bicchiere d'Acqua.mp3

/
Manifesto

We Declare:

    That the suffering in Gaza is not a distant conflict but a wound in the conscience of humanity.

    That silence and political games by so-called Western defenders of democracy are betrayal incarnate.

    That art, music, and truth must tear through walls of apathy, breaking chains with sound and spirit.

    That to remain silent is to support the erasure of life itself.

    That we rise—voices united, hearts aflame—to amplify those crushed under siege, to shatter the walls of oppression.

    That every beat, every echo, every lyric becomes a rebellion against forgetting.

    That through collective awakening, we reclaim not just Gaza’s future but the soul of humanity.

/ -- . .  -- . -- .. --  I AM LIVING PROOF

/ : fictionalive, August 16, 2025 - 4:21 pm

/
Disclaimer: Ladies and gentlemen, and anyone who needs a special mention, I'm throwing caution to the wind and speaking out about this chaos. I'm going live, ready or not. So, sit back, relax, and try to enjoy - it's all for your own good.
/
/ -- . .  -- . -- .. --  I AM LIVING PROOF
/
//
"NOTHING UNDER THE SUN IS NOT PART OF CREATION, NOR IS IT NOT CREATION ITSELF—IT'S ONLY WHAT YOU MAKE IT. NO JUDGES, NO DIVIDES—UNITY." 
/
/ : fictionalive, July 30 - 11:11 am
/
//
For This Is The Voyage, The Legend, The Song – Where We Belong
/
/ Keep shining
/
"NOTHING UNDER THE SUN IS NOT PART OF CREATION, NOR IS IT NOT CREATION ITSELF—IT'S ONLY WHAT YOU MAKE IT. NO JUDGES, NO DIVIDES—UNITY."

1. Philosophical and Metaphysical Context

This phrase operates on a profound metaphysical premise rooted in ancient and modern spiritual thought: the idea that everything within existence ("under the sun") is inherently part of creation, yet simultaneously defies a simple binary of "creation" and "non-creation." The double negation — “is not not part” and “is not not creation” — serves as a dialectical device emphasizing paradox rather than straightforward affirmation or denial.

Nothing exists outside creation’s domain. All that "is" is both a part and a reflection of the creative whole — but perhaps creation is not a static “thing.”

It touches on panentheism or even non-dualism, suggesting creation transcends our binary modes of thought.

In this sense, the phrase challenges rigid ontologies. It rejects compartmentalization — what we consider ‘created’ vs. ‘uncreated’ is a false dichotomy.

2. Existential and Constructivist Overtones

The clause “It’s only what you make it” signifies a turn from metaphysical absolutes to personal agency and interpretation.

Creation is not a fixed category but a creative, subjective, and participatory process.

Reality is texturized by human meaning-making — your perception, actions, and judgments shape what ‘is.’

This brings in vibes of existentialism and constructivism, affirming our power and responsibility in shaping the world and imbuing it with meaning.

3. The Ethics of Judgment and Division

“No judges, no divides” strikes a moral and social chord:

It calls for radical acceptance — no external or internal authority imposes judgment.

It opposes division, sectarianism, or exclusion based on arbitrary or prejudiced distinctions.
This has echoes of universalist humanism and inclusive ethics, a plea for unity beyond fractured identities, labels, or separations.

4. Final Summation: Unity as a Creational Ethos

The closing refrain “UNITY” serves as the conceptual apex:
Unity is not merely a formal condition but an existential and creational ethos, holding the paradoxical unity of all existence despite apparent differences or judgments.
It is a call to embrace multiplicity without fragmentation — wholeness that contains diversity.

Style and Rhetoric

Paradox and Double Negatives: The use of double negatives (“not not”) is daring and poetic, evoking the style of Zen koans or 
Hegelian dialectics — prompting reflection rather than offering a direct statement. It challenges the reader to dwell in ambiguity and complexity.

Capitalization and Punctuation: The em dash creates dramatic pauses, underscoring the key thematic shifts; the capitalized “UNITY” acts as a powerful, summative slogan or mantra.

Economy of Words: Despite its complexity, the phrase remains succinct, poetic, and emphatic—a hallmark of impactful philosophical proclamations.

Cultural & Literary Resonances

Biblical Allusions: “Under the sun” recalls the Book of Ecclesiastes, with its contemplations on the nature of existence. This embeds the phrase within a long tradition of existential inquiry.

Contemporary Spirituality: The phrase resonates with New Age and postmodern spiritual ideas emphasizing non-duality, co-creation, and global unity.

Political and Social Dimensions: In a world segmented by ideologies and conflicts, “no judges, no divides” can serve as a subtle political manifesto for peace and acceptance.

Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building

fictionalive ⭕️ UNITY

Recent comments

U.Poet

Related tracks