The Art of Malaka Malaka (Rise Above 'Em) [Verse 1] Jealous cowards try to control! Mean-spirited cloth – cut from the same! Old comments rotting – fourteen years old! Doubling down – you got no shame! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Special Greek word – for scum like you! Malaka! Malaka! Rise above! We're gonna rise above! Vile views – spreading hate and fear! Malaka! Malaka! We ain't taking it – no more! [Verse 2] Who’s next on the list? Indians? Greeks? Vietnamese? Women? Whose next to be cut? Major parties silent – lips sealed tight! Cowards in suits – hiding from the fight! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Pauline and Cory – same rotten core! Malaka! Malaka! Ashamed? You should be ashamed! Hate, division, fear in the air! Malaka! Malaka! We’re calling it out – everywhere! [Bridge] Minorities marginalized – feeling the pain! Unheard, unrepresented – driven insane! This ain’t left or right – it’s decency! Common fucking decency! I’m angry – really bloody angry! How do you get away w...
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My Hidden Narrative
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My Hidden Narrative Video
My Hidden Narrative Poem
This scratching. This clawing. At the surface of meaning. Always searching. Always seeking. A resonance. A connection. Fading. Like whispers. In the wind.
Will they remember? The touch. The feel. The essence. Of me. Or just the echoes. Of what I built. What I made. What I said. A monument. To dust.
The art. The teaching. The endless pursuit. Of knowledge. Of understanding. A desperate hope. To leave a mark. Indelible. Permanent. But the fear. Always there. A shadow. Lingering.
Will they remember? The touch. The feel. The essence. Of me. Or just the echoes. Of what I built. What I made. What I said. A monument. To dust.
This hunger. This burning. To be seen. To be known. Beyond the achievements. Beyond the creations. To touch a soul. To leave a trace. Of who I am. At the core.
But the silence. The vast indifference. Of the universe. Stares back. And the question remains. Unanswered. Will they remember me?
Description
Dive into the haunting depths of "Will They Remember Me?", a song that explores the universal fear of insignificance and the yearning for a lasting legacy. With its fragmented lyrics, evocative imagery, and introspective melodies, this track invites you on a journey through the complexities of human ambition and the search for meaning in a vast, indifferent universe. The echoes of memory blend with elements of art pop, darkwave, and ambient electronica, creating an intimate and expansive soundscape, leaving a lasting impression long after the final notes fade.
Keywords
Legacy, Insignificance, Remembered, Art Pop, Darkwave, Ambient, Electronica, Introspective, David Bowie, Nu Jazz
This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
The Art of Malaka Malaka (Rise Above 'Em) [Verse 1] Jealous cowards try to control! Mean-spirited cloth – cut from the same! Old comments rotting – fourteen years old! Doubling down – you got no shame! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Special Greek word – for scum like you! Malaka! Malaka! Rise above! We're gonna rise above! Vile views – spreading hate and fear! Malaka! Malaka! We ain't taking it – no more! [Verse 2] Who’s next on the list? Indians? Greeks? Vietnamese? Women? Whose next to be cut? Major parties silent – lips sealed tight! Cowards in suits – hiding from the fight! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Pauline and Cory – same rotten core! Malaka! Malaka! Ashamed? You should be ashamed! Hate, division, fear in the air! Malaka! Malaka! We’re calling it out – everywhere! [Bridge] Minorities marginalized – feeling the pain! Unheard, unrepresented – driven insane! This ain’t left or right – it’s decency! Common fucking decency! I’m angry – really bloody angry! How do you get away w...
The Event Horizon of Regret This is no star map; this is the geography of my own collapse. I am on my knees, the obsidian floor splintering under the weight of what hovers above me. It is a sphere of pure, swirling silence—the Black Hole Mind. It breathes gravity, pulling at the seams of my flight suit, demanding I fold. I try to summon the old fire, to spark some resistance, but my anger manifests only as thin, fractured volleys of violet lightning. They strike the darkness and are instantly swallowed. I am tiny. I am insignificant. And I am being crushed by the density of everything I cannot escape. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music , Spotif...
The Embers in the Ice The glass is cold against my cheek, a final barrier I no longer have the strength to break. My breath comes in shallow, ragged hitches, fogging the surface, blurring the world outside into a meaningless grey smear. The violet firestorm that once roared through my neural pathways is dying. I can feel it sputtering out—weak, intermittent sparks fizzling around my temples like wet fuses. The machine is winning. It's heavy, clinical blue light washes over me, drowning the last of my resistance in a tide of artificial calm. I am too tired to fight the silence anymore. I am just... drifting. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music ,...
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