D'aprés le poème amérindien "The Delight Song of Tsoai-talee " de Norman Scott Momaday
Compositeur Arrangeur : Philippe SEGUINARD Auteur Mélodiste : Guillaume DULER
Lyrics :
Je suis une plume dans le ciel immense
Je suis l'ombre qui suit l'enfance
Je suis le cheval qui galope dans la plaine 
Alors regarde, je suis vivant

Je suis l'aigle qui joue avec le vent 
Je suis un bouquet de perles étincelant
Je suis l'étoile la plus lointaine des prairies
Alors regarde, je suis vivant

Je suis la lumière de l'après-midi
Je suis les paillettes sur la neige après la nuit 
Je suis le sentier de la lune sur le lac
Alors regarde, je suis vivant

Je suis la grande flamme aux quatre couleurs 
Je suis la faim d'un jeune loup 
Je suis un vol d'oies dans le ciel d'hiver 
Alors regarde, je suis vivant

Je suis vivant

A bit bored so I mixed some words and vocal with Bob Warner's Lazydayz Blues instrumental track.

Lazydayz Blues - Lyrics & Vocal by Tony Harris - Music by Bob Warner - Original

Come what may.
Wind in his face.
Ice in the rain.
Omega shelf.
Edge of the land.
The whole mass shifts.
It may as well be the edge of the galaxy.

These thoughts, roads, pathways: a fallacy
a carefully contrived anomaly.

Breeze of her passing above his grave.
The flowers hang in droves
while the dew bends them back down
to their beginnings.

Words by Riley Robinson

Come What May

An instrumental version of a song originally written for Pong (Austin TX band)... 

The Safetool Sessions

Buy and Buy

Last but not least... from the Album " Prince Of Darkness" the heavyrock piece "Broken People"... another story about " people on the dole".. this time played by TOX and composed by W.Dannemann (leadvoc./guitar).  Lyrics: Pee Gee  
Best enjoy with headphones...Rock On!!

Broken People, Tox/Pee Gee

WARNING: Contains the most epic metal scream of all time

Recorded on a Tascam 4 track tape machine.  Gremescer plays the drums, which is why they suck.

She Was Too Darn Young

Echoes Of The Sun

Produced by BotNikStudio2, Bottna, Sweden.

AS THE GALE PASSES

I continue my musical experiments mixing styles. With this track , I tried to capture the spirit of post-punk rock but with an electro funk touch.  For the text, I let myself be carried away by my irritation against the warrior spirit that is imposed almost everywhere in the world. The lyrics are explicit

Je continue mes expérimentations musicales en mélangeant les styles. Avec ce morceau j'ai tenté de capter l'esprit post-punk Rock mais avec un touche electro funk.Pour le texte, je me suis laissée porter par mon énervement contre l'esprit guerrier qui s'imposent un peu partout dans le monde. Les paroles sont explicites


Punks Against War

All these stupid guys, thinking with their balls
Listen to  politicians and believe their  lies
Hey  You  asshole /   I don't want  take this way  
Hey  You  asshole  /  i'm going my own way  
 
There is no clean war, too many people die
No land, no country  worth the blood / of the child  who play there
 Hey  You  asshole /   I don't want take this way
Hey  You  asshole  /  i'm going my own way 

I am right in my fight/ shut the fuck up, son of a bitch,  
I protect my country and the world  shut the fuck up, son of a bitch,
My people are the chosen of gods  shut the fuck up, son of a bitch,
My enemies are terrorist dogs    shut the fuck up, son of a bitch,

There Are only two sides, Its not the good against the bad
 But Only those who die and those who get rich.  
 Hey  You  asshole /   I don't want  take this way
 Hey  You  asshole  /  i'm going my own way 


The vile flow of news channels makes me sick, makes me vomit
 Fed up with all these people who kill the future  they   makes me sick makes me vomit




En français:

Tous ces types stupides, qui pensent avec leurs couilles
Écoutent les politiciens et croient leurs mensonges
Hé, espèce de connard  Je ne veux pas prendre ce chemin
Hé, espèce de connard  Je vais mon propre chemin


Il n'y a pas de guerre propre, trop de gens meurent
Aucune terre, aucun pays ne vaut le sang Des enfants qui y jouent
Hé, espèce de connard Je ne veux pas prendre ce chemin
Hé, espèce de connard Je vais mon propre chemin

J'ai raison dans mon combat / ferme ta gueule, fils de pute
Je protège mon pays et le monde ferme ta gueule, fils de pute
Mon peuple est l'élu des dieux, ferme ta gueule, fils de pute
Mes ennemis sont des chiens terroristes, ferme ta gueule, fils de pute

Il n'y a que deux camps, Ce n'est pas le Bien contre le mal
Mais seulement ceux qui meurent et ceux qui s'enrichissent.
Hé, espèce d'enfoiré Je ne veux pas prendre ce chemin.
Hé, espèce d'enfoiré  Je vais mon propre chemin.

Le flux ignoble des chaînes d'information me rend malade, me fait vomir.
J'en ai marre de tous ces gens qui tuent l'avenir. Ils me rendent malade, me font vomir.

Punk Against War

Punks Against War (version 1)

/ emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast / emergency broadcast /
/
— rollout, transmission, odyssey begins — demo version drop

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,
.........
may we, the humbled .....
........4'000 characters.. there's more to it, sorry....
/
artwork illustration by peter uertz, düsseldorf / germany
/
/ 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

Incoming Age of Melancholy — Eternal Dusk Between Eras / The Last Custodians of the Old Music

Overview

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Welcome 2026.

//
be careful - full of care, care and love, that's all there is
fictionalive

Brain Hope – Do It for Free 

fictionalive /
popoems series / hyper media reports 
2001 / 2011 / 2024

/ to(tally) fictionalive or not

:: disclaimer
let me break it down for you - all tracks are handcrafted

/
An artist is someone who creates or expresses ideas, emotions, or visions through a chosen medium, aiming to communicate, inspire, or evoke a response.

This definition embraces all forms of creativity—visual, musical, literary, or performance—and emphasizes the purpose of connection and expression rather than formal titles or external validation.

/
Brain Hop

Brain Hop is a musical genre invented by the artist FICTIONALIVE on Monday, December 1st, 2025, at 1:24 PM. The genre seeks to bring depth, intellect, and philosophical reflection into contemporary music, emphasizing thoughtful lyricism, conceptual frameworks, and cognitive engagement across styles. Brain Hop differentiates itself from much mainstream music by prioritizing meaningful content, complex themes, and a cerebral approach to structure, rhythm, and sound design.

The creation of Brain Hop responds to the perception that a lot of current music leans heavily on surface-level entertainment while neglecting intellectual and existential depth. It aims to provide an artistic space where artists explore profound social, political, and existential issues through innovative production and poetic or experimental vocal delivery. Brain Hop can interact with hip-hop, electronic, pop, or experimental traditions, but is defined above all by its focus on ideas and reflection rather than by any single beat pattern or instrumentation.

​As of its inception, Brain Hop is positioned as an emerging genre within underground and alternative music scenes, promising to attract listeners and creators who value music that stimulates both mind and soul.
​
a voice ⭕️ a bold surprise
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