blues, gospel, electro, music produced with artificial intelligence

Soul Sparks

Wake up. Rise into fire.
A battle hymn, a prayer, a command.
KETA.KALI tears the silence with power and darkness.

All music, lyrics, and visual artwork created in collaboration between human artistry and AI technology. © 2025 KETA.KALI – All rights reserved.

KETA.KALI - Wake Up (run)

If you enjoy the mix please like it, leave a comment and share it! Follow my channel for more.
New Resistance Sessions episodes are released every five to seven days. With Guest Mixes featuring DJ's from all around the globe interspersed with Host Mixes by Radeus.

RESISTANCE SESSIONS GUEST MIX #51 - by Avisha

Avisha Nicole is a DJ and passionate explorer of the organic house and progressive scene from Berlin. With her deep connection to sound and storytelling, she blends warm grooves, ethereal atmospheres and emotional rhythms into a journey that resonates both on the dancefloor and in the heart. Her style reflects the vibrant underground spirit of Berlin while carrying a universal touch that speaks to dreamers and music lovers everywhere.
We are truly excited to welcome Avisha to our podcast family and to share her beautiful mix with you. Sit back, dive in, and let the journey unfold.

Follow Avisha at:
➤ SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/musicwithjoy
➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009269947759

Tracklist:
01 Mou Mou - Lovestory (SHRI IND Remix) [Stellar Fountain]
02 Traumhouse - Crossed Heart (Extended Mix) [WTSE]
03 Niko Ava - Amazonia (Extended Mix) [Journey of the Soul]
04 Dulus, Obbie - Crème Brûlée (Original Mix) [For A Memory]
05 Sébastien Léger, Roy Rosenfeld - Guarana (Extended Mix) [Lost Miracle]
06 Dulus - Keytar (Original Mix) [Quantum Feels]
07 Tim Green - Minds (Original Mix) [All Day I Dream]
08 Emrat - Meridian (Original Mix) [Hoomidaas]
09 SIDOROFF - I Know (Original Mix) [RYTHMICA]
10 Gorje Hewek, ETNE - Children (Extended Mix) [Glasgow Underground]

RESISTANCE SESSIONS GUEST MIX #51 - by Avisha

Welcome to the Wild West, duels, stories of life and dusty death, and that good old foot stomping country music. Yee haa 

The Hunter

Typewriter Duel - Beat Ragtime

NACAR

THE SHADOW IN THE LONG WHITE CLOUD - Collective Shadow / Aotearoa

Aotearoa dreams on a bed of smouldering stones, where Taupo's caldera holds 
its ancient breath. Collective shadow explores how nations deny historical 
trauma—"pohutukawa roots crack colonial foundations, each broken stone a 
small death of indigenous dreams." Volcanic imagery as psychological 
diagnosis. When Ruaumoko stirs with unspoken rage, denied collective 
trauma demands reckoning.

Psychedelic punk-folk with Māori ceremonial elements. Rebellious and sacred.

From "Breakfast with Jung: Chapter 2 - The Shadow"
🎵 Full exploration: sfhmusic.bandcamp.com
💿 Support the work      📖 Geology meets psychology

The Shadow in the Long White Cloud   (Lyrics)

Aotearoa dreams on a bed of smouldering stones,
where Taupo's caldera holds its ancient breath -
its heart a pounamu of unspoken truths,
black and gleaming with night-sweat confessions.
In Rotorua's steaming pools, guilt rises like mist,
where Whakarewarewa's breath scalds the conscience clean.
Māori guides, their faces mapped with moko,
sing histories that bleed into the sulphurous air.

People will do anything, no matter how absurd
to avoid facing their own souls.

Wellington's wind howls through Thorndon's graves,
carrying the cries of forgotten chiefs across Te Aro.
The Beehive hums, a hive of shadow-bees
making bitter honey from the flowers of discontent,
while beneath Lambton Quay, old bones shift
in their concrete tombs, restless with remembering.

People will do anything, no matter how absurd
to avoid facing their own souls.

Auckland's glass towers pierce Queen Street's sky,
their obsidian teeth gnawing at ancestral clouds.
In Britomart's chrome cafes, executives sip flat whites
bitter with memory, while pohutukawa roots
crack colonial foundations - each broken stone
a small death of indigenous dreams.
From Maungakiekie's scarred summit,
the long white cloud darkens to indigo,
pregnant with the weight of silenced voices.


People will do anything, no matter how absurd
to avoid facing their own souls.

When will this land birth its hidden self,
screaming its pain to the Matariki stars,
their seven lights piercing our collective night?
A tremor grows beneath motorway and marae,
a people's voice rising through concrete canyons.

Ruaumoko, god of earthquakes,
stirs in his earthen cradle,
fault lines crackling with unspoken rage,
ready to dance our spirits into new shapes.

From Maungakiekie's scarred summit,
the long white cloud darkens to indigo,
pregnant with the weight of silenced voices.

In the gloaming, Tui sing laments in Titirangi,
while in city parks, kereru drop purple tears
on the graves of trees we forgot to mourn.

Listen—beneath Te-Moana-nui-a-Kiwa,
Tangaroa's heart drums like a war party,
each beat a prophecy of rising seas.
While we sleep in our concrete dreams,
all our shadows turn to salt.

People will do anything, no matter how absurd
to avoid facing their own souls.

Listen—beneath Te-Moana-nui-a-Kiwa,
Tangaroa's heart drums like a war party,
each beat a prophecy of rising seas.
While we sleep in our concrete dreams,
all our shadows turn to salt.
 


The Shadow in the Long White Cloud

like a drunk checking his face

A sensual journey through intimate moments where the sacred and physical merge into pure presence. This psychedelic folk meditation celebrates the divine feminine through vivid sensory detail—strawberry kisses, chocolate-coated lips, rain tapping on tin roofs, bodies moving in adagio ballet.
Between sheets and storms, citrus and cream, twilight and amber light, two lovers become mirrors of each other. Cicadas hum, white gulls echo, and Satchmo rain plays bass rhythm while the universe suspends time like commas hanging on clouds.
"We're a mirror of the other, the storm sleeps as it pours ambrosia"
This track worships the body as temple, pleasure as prayer, and intimate connection as spiritual practice.
A celebration of the Goddess through touch, taste, and tender surrender.
🎵 Sensual poetry meets psychedelic folk

STRAWBERRIES and CHOCOLATE   ( Lyrics )

In the sheets suspended between breaths
A banquet of strawberry kisses on lips and throats
Drizzles of dew in the damp morning grass
Naked bodies weave 
Limbs entwined in the pulse of our heartbeats
A chorus of white gulls echo, twilight surrenders
Obsidian sky pierced by a glowing sun
On the shore, waves caress sand in gentle nibbles
Leaving trails of foam
Cicadas hum the river, rocking the water's surface
Tangy scent of fresh citrus burst from the confectioner's box
Mingling with the aroma of cocoa and cream
Fingers like ink trace the curves of skin
Velvety dark chocolate coats lips
Eyes meet in a spiral of locked irises
Droplets pop on the tight umbrellas canvas
Clocks suspend like commas hang on clouds
Rain taps ivory keys on the old red tin roof
Our spines silver-spoon in the warmth
Adagio ballet unfolds, bodies surf on motions edge
Shafts of amber light flicker on silk, cedar, and skin
Satchmo rain plays a bass rhythm
Fingers and lips coated sugar babies
Sheltered beneath a rainbow
Shoulders brush, feet slip into slippers
We're a mirror of the other
The storm sleeps as it pours ambrosia
Into green pitcher cups

📖 From the poetry of Stephen Francis Hollins

#Goddess #SensualPoetry #PsychedelicFolk #DivineFeminine #ContraltoVocals #SFHmusic #IntimateMusic

Strawberries and Chocolate

Dark political gospel channeling Orwellian dread through contemporary RB and neo-soul. A haunting meditation on power, propaganda, and modern exploitation, where Squealer's lies multiply through pocket screens and Boxer's ghost haunts the gig economy. From whispered conspiracy to thunderous condemnation, this track traces the line from Animal Farm's barn to today's Amazon warehouses—where we've become unable to tell democracy from auction, new boss from old boss.

ANIMAL FARM ( Lyrics )

The commandments were painted fresh
On the barn wall that first morning
White letters drip wet in dawn light
All animals are equal
Fresh starts, clean slates
Until you notice the ladder
Leaning against tomorrow's lies

By evening, Squealer stood
Beneath the same wall
Explaining why milk
Disappeared into the farmhouse
Why apples rotted
In pigs' bellies while horses
Worked double shifts on empty stomachs

He could sell water to drowning men
And make them thank him
His voice, smooth as butter
Turned equal into necessary
Theft into supervision
Hunger into sacrifice

The animals nodded, bodies
Betraying what minds couldn't grasp
Stomachs growling dissent
Like children crying for mothers
Who will never come

Napoleon's teeth gleamed
While Snowball's exile order
Dripped ink on the desk
Two pigs, one throne
Revolution eating its children
Before they learned to walk
Each betrayal sharp as glass
Cutting through brotherhood's myth

In pocket screens
Squealer multiplies
Ten thousand voices explaining
Why billionaires need tax cuts
Why surveillance protects freedom
Why your job disappearing
Means progress

Pay attention to small lies
They lead to larger darkness
Watch Boxer at the quarry
Haunches tremble under weight
Repeating I will work harder
As his spine curves
Toward claiming earth

Hard work, another word
For slowly killing yourself
For someone else's dream
This is Tuesday at Amazon
Wednesday at The Warehouse
Thursday's gig economy
Where your car becomes office
Debt becomes motivation
Body becomes currency
Traded for permission to exist
Each day carved from flesh

Some animals are more equal than others
Paint still wet
When they changed the commandment
Morning said one thing
Nightfall, another
No one remembered original words
Except the feeling something
Was stolen while they slept
Memory bleeding black
Into forgetfulness

Election night, two thousand twenty-four
The candidate promising change
Shakes hands with lobbyists
In rooms without cameras
News anchors explain
Why handshakes mean progress
Why healthcare disappearing
Means freedom expanding
While we sit believing television
Like children believing Santa

Animals press weary faces
Against farmhouse windows
Speckled in shit
Unable to tell pig from man
We press our faces
Against blue screens
Unable to tell
Democracy from auction
Representation from performance
New boss from old boss

In hairy darkness beyond the barn
Something moves
Heavy hooves on gravel
Breathing that refuses to break
Boxer's eyes gleam, In shadow
Boxer's eyes gleam, In shadow
Boxer's eyes gleam, Boxer's eyes gleam
Boxer's eyes gleam, In shadow

Animal Farm


A meditation on the Self as both creator and destroyer, told through the image of citrus fruit falling from a backyard lemon tree. The tree represents Jung's concept of the Self—the totality of the psyche that encompasses both life-giving potential and inevitable loss. As "citrus suns dangle and dream of distant love," we see the Self's creative capacity, while "one by one they thud into the silent earth" reveals the Self's acceptance of all cycles, including endings. The sparse musical arrangement mirrors the spaciousness required for Self-realization—creating room for both beauty and grief to coexist without resistance. From my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 8 -The Self



THE LEMON TREE ( Lyrics)

In my back garden
Inside a sea of glossy leaves (Glossy leaves)
Citrus suns dangle and dream
Of distant love
Citrus suns dangle and dream
Of distant love (Of distant love)

Mmm-mmm-mmmm
Ahh-ahh-ahhh
Ooh-ooh-mmm, ooh-ooh
Mmm-ahh-ohhh
Ahhh, mmm, ahhh, ahh, ahh
Ooh-mmm-ahh

One by one they thud
Into the silent earth (Silent earth)
One by one they thud
Into the silent earth (Silent earth)

The Lemon Tree

S F H music Auckland, New Zealand

Poet • Performer • Lyricist • Composer

Stephen Hollins is a New Zealand-born Renaissance artist whose four-decade career spans genres of theatre, opera, improvisation, performance, poetry, writing and music. He transforms his poetry into songs blending psychology, performance, innovation and technology to create emotionally resonant and meaningful music.

His latest project, "Breakfast with Jung," is a groundbreaking multimedia collection exploring Carl Jung's psychological concepts through poetry and music—transforming a 400-page manuscript of 135 poems into a nine-album/chapter series that makes depth psychology accessible through an intimate musical and poetical journey toward the authentic Self that mirrors Jung's work.
"Support my music: https://sfhmusic.bandcamp.com"