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...
Trapped in a cosmic gridlock, navigating space felt less like an adventure and more like rush hour back home. Ahead, the opulent cruise liner, The Stellar Serpent, dominated the view, its countless portholes gleaming with the carefree anticipation of its occupants. We were surrounded by a frenzy of vessels, from elegant private yachts to bulky cargo freighters, all vying for position, their navigation lights impatiently flickering like agitated fireflies.
Our Subi yearned to escape, but felt anchored. Katcha, usually composed, emitted a low growl. Our frustration mounted. This jockeying for position was proving expensive. The Subi’s guidance system incessantly blared “Collision Alert (Minor),” each warning was complemented by a blast of avoidance energy. Days seemed to crawl by, the euphoria of the Kepler Kiss now a fading memory. This wasn't the boundless exploration we'd paid for; nothing is worse than this illogical congestion.
Then, a subtle change. A barely perceptible shift in the massive cruise liner's engines, a slight drift to starboard. Our moment had arrived! With a rush of adrenaline and a sudden, involuntary blast of a space shanty about 'freeing the thrusters' on my comms, the Subi skillfully maneuvered the Stardust Drifter through a narrow opening between a hydroponic supply vessel and a particularly flamboyant pleasure barge. The ship vibrated, the engines roared in glorious protest, and for a magnificent, fleeting instant, we were liberated. Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine stretched before us. The irritation of the jam evaporated, replaced by an intoxicating euphoria more potent than any synthesised space brew. The unknown beckoned, and we were once again, gloriously, hurtling towards it.
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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 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 ,...
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...
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