The Copper Lid
The brain-crushing machine begins —
That creeping fascist virus wins.
It masks itself in “care” and “grace” —
A slaughterhouse with smiling face.
Then came the Sheepovirus plague:
CowID erased the reasoned leg
The world once stood on. Raving lies
Now reign beneath corrupted skies.
And slaughter follows. Always does.
The average ****** takes the buzz —
That common “citizen” half-dead,
Half-dog, half-human in the head.
They’re trained for Camp Globalité,
Where only few can still obey
Their thinking mind. The herd’s enslaved:
Defective souls, not meant to be saved.
Ninety percent — already meat.
Fascism brings its “rescue” feat,
As always done: the weak, the dumb
Are sacrificed — like sheep — to come.
One hope remains — the Final Crash,
The end that burns the filth to ash,
Long sold in “spiritual” display:
The pit of Hell to clear the way.
The Copper Lid will seal the pit,
But save the few who didn’t quit,
Who didn’t bow, who stayed defiant,
Who stood, not like a trained compliant.
They’ll rise to worlds of clearer skies,
Forget this madness, filth, and lies —
This reign of evil’s rabid breed,
The root of every wicked deed.
---------------------
Manifesto: No More Herds
They masked the Slaughter as "Care and Aid" —
And drove the minds into a cage.
The weak obeyed. The mad betrayed.
Fascism grinned. It seized the stage.
The virus came — and Truth was banned.
The sheep knelt down. The killers planned.
The world turned hell. The herd turned meat.
And freedom died beneath their feet.
But few refused to bow to lies —
Still heard the scream behind the skies,
Still stood while all the rest obeyed,
Not man, not dog — but unafraid.
Let copper lids seal all this rot.
Let Hell devour the mindless lot.
We walk through fire, through pain, through curse —
To worlds beyond this dying verse.
---------------------
Elite Waste
The selfish, snobbish *****
Is Złą’s true building brick.
No cracks in that façade —
Just donkey-brain in God.
True intellect sees far,
Beyond all ego-war.
But rot becomes the norm
In Bedlam’s battleform.
Climb over broken backs —
That’s how the mad House acts.
You’ll earn its false success,
Through cruelty and BS.
That snob’s a groveling tool,
A flunky for the cruel,
Chasing his grand delusion —
A slave’s self-sold illusion.
He trades his mind and soul
To serve the filth’s control.
A “pyramid”? He’s not the top —
Just sliding down the slop.
And when he hits the pit,
Don’t cry — he chose that ****.
One push — he’s in the muck.
His servile time is up.
That “lord” was never real —
A temp with no appeal.
Their system grinds and chews —
Toxic waste floats up the flues.
---------------------
Toxic Rises
The snob’s a slave in gold disguise —
A hollow shell, a pack of lies.
He sells his soul to climb the mess —
Where filth floats up and truth sinks less.
---------------------
Crop Circles
A mystery gleams
Where science is dust —
Obedient schemes
Betraying our trust.
The truth in those rings
Could shatter their lies.
But "science" now brings
Just plagues in disguise.
They poison our food,
Then preach it's all "fine."
Obedient brood
Push toxins as "signs."
Their “proof” is a joke —
Paid media slaves.
The sick and the broke —
That’s what “science” paves.
These circles contain
A symbol, a spark —
While “science” remains
A cult in the dark.
It slaughters the Soul,
Drains insight to death.
And CowID’s control
Still chokes every breath.
The circles — a blast
Against the decay.
But “science” holds fast —
With clots in its way.
Their method? Deny
What threatens the plan.
And bury the sky
With lies that began.
---------------------
The Circles Speak
While science serves decay and lies,
The circles blaze beneath our skies.
They speak in symbols, pure and bright —
A war of darkness versus Light.
They poison truth, they poison bread,
And feed the masses fear instead.
Their “proof” is rot, their “facts” are chains —
Their methods breed the sick and maimed.
The soul’s been sold, the mind turned dry,
While CowID reigns and spirits die.
Yet signs appear — like secret drums —
To wake the few before it comes.
The circles scream what they ignore.
Their silence hides a rotting core.
But lies will drown in light, at last —
And truth will burn their idols’ past.
---------------------
1.
The circles shine — the silence cracks.
Where truth appears, their empire lacks.
2.
They poison food and call it fate,
While symbols rise to detonate.
Their “science” sleeps in rotting schemes —
The circles tear apart their dreams.
---------------------
March to the Camp
Left! Now right!
Marching bright!
Since our youth,
We march from "truth".
The media scream the marching song —
Without their lies, we know no wrong.
“School” — the Mecca of unthinking.
Each new gen joins in the sinking.
The path is paved by soulless beasts —
With lies disguised as “moral feasts”.
It feels so soft — but when you fall,
You’ll learn: the end’s no “freedom” call.
No — the end’s a Global Camp.
A world of chains, of minds gone damp.
The march is smooth, obedient, blind —
Most are fools. The TV’s kind.
They scream the “truth” the **** invent,
And all just bow — so **** content.
Obedience! — the sacred vow
Each gen repeats. We crawl, we bow.
It’s hard to march while on your knees —
But memes and myths bring some unease.
Fairy tales for dull-eyed masses
Keep them marching into ashes.
That Camp is near. The end is set.
Left! Now right! No whining yet!
Though knees are shredded, pain immense —
Forward, forward, oh dear gents!
---------------------
Camp March
They march in line, they kneel, they choke —
Led by a lie, fed meme and joke.
The Camp is near — just don’t resist.
Obey and vanish in the mist.
---------------------
Obey, You Fools
March on, you kneeling slaves in rows!
The Camp is near — and no one knows.
You cheer your chains. You beg for pain.
So die in line — and die insane.
---------------------
Camp marchers, blind and bound,
Your chains will drag you down.
---------------------
Art of All Arts
The zombied world: the time has come
To pay the price for all the ****.
Once more the “box” conceals the lies —
The art of all arts: deceives and hides.
The cows all ****, C-O-2,
Factories smoke — **** what they do!
Their lies make heads swell up with pain.
A habit breaking brains in vain.
This zombied world, by negative pick,
Is dragged to bottom—no more trick.
It’s no sin to consume the rot,
That filthy **** with poison plot.
To analyze that filthy brew
Is a sin no thief or puppet knew.
The rulers and the crooked clans
Celebrate their savage plans.
But highest art is to obey —
For centuries it’s bred that way.
No feeling, reason — just decay —
A rotten core that paves the way.
It storms the “brave new world” so grim,
Submissive to the **** and whim.
Mammon reigns — a false god’s shrine,
While honor and conscience decline.
Yet here’s the twist — the reckoning nears,
The price to pay for all their years.
The bought-out, broken, sordid scene —
Will burn beneath the Solar Queen.
---------------------
The Final Reckoning
A zombied world, addicted to lies,
Where art’s best craft is to disguise.
Obedience bred, souls sold for gold —
A rotten tale that’s grown too old.
But now the reckoning’s aflame,
The Solar Light will cleanse the shame.
No more shadows, no more sin —
The end begins — let truth burst in.
---------------------
Zombies bow, but light will burn,
False art falls — no more to turn.
Solar fire — the world will learn.
---------------------
Happiness
Vasya Pupkin firmly trusts
He’s entitled to his just.
Waits for reckoning’s cold hand?
No — Vasya’s just a noisy man.
These noisy fools build “happiness” —
But hell is what they manifest.
The inhuman did their part:
Every fool’s rejoicing heart.
Thinking “I’m on path to joy,”
But trapped instead — a penned-up toy.
Call the dark eternal night —
He believes it’s all “alright.”
Day of Reckoning draws near —
Every step confirmed by fear.
Vasya fails once more, undone —
Satan acts as god, he’s won.
Hidden, blatant Satan’s reign
Fills the world — that’s why the pain
Bends Vasya’s “happiness” —
Distorted by the filth’s abyss.
That prism is the ****’s own scheme,
Their plans to spread the idiot’s dream.
**** needs fools — the dumb, the blind.
Only “fools’ joy” here you’ll find.
For minds awake — just grief and gloom,
Amongst the madness, evil’s doom.
---------------------
Fools’ Happiness
Vasya cheers a cursed fate,
Thinking joy will come too late.
But fools build hell and call it bliss —
Trapped inside the devil’s kiss.
The world is full of Satan’s lies,
Where empty minds worship disguise.
Only fools find “happiness” here —
The rest just drown in pain and fear.
---------------------
Fools chase shadows, call it light,
Truth stands fierce, prepared to fight.
---------------------
“Foundations” for Donkeys
To overthrow the “foundations” —
A task that’s hard beyond creations.
They herd the donkeys to their pens,
Replacing minds with lies and trends.
There’s poisoned hay, a poisoned feed,
Weak donkeys struggle, fall in need.
Fed only slogans — empty, vain,
No wisdom caught, just shallow gain.
If in your youth you missed the core,
The goats will mark you as their score —
A herd to lead you to the stall
Where bars await to watch you fall.
A traitor broke the sacred law,
Forgot the trembling fear and awe
That keeps the stall alive and whole —
The deepest ground beneath control.
To break the “foundations” deep inside
Is suicide — the darkest tide.
Those “foundations” form the second floor
Of shackles none can ignore.
The goal is clear: to crush the base,
Call that abyss a “brave new place.”
The donkey’s food — for other beasts,
The world their feast — a hell unleashed.
That vile ****, that filthy pack,
Feeds those goats with poison’s crack.
And thus the world will fall to dust —
Parasites and donkeys crushed.
---------------------
Foundations of Chains
Donkeys herded, fed with lies,
Slogans stuffing empty eyes.
Goats will lead to darker pens —
Where the shackles never end.
“Foundations” built to break the soul,
A second cage, a deeper hole.
The world’s a feast for **** and fiends —
Where hope dissolves and silence screams.
---------------------
Donkeys led with lies and chains,
The world’s feast for fiends remains.
---------------------
Boredom of the Lying Mari
Life’s boredom — truth unshaken —
This Hell’s not made for you.
In Hell, the fiends lie brazen,
Darkening the last mind too.
The odds are slim, on cracked roads,
To find a friend who stays.
Desire to walk erodes —
No path beyond this maze.
No place to go — the Hell’s enclosed,
A circle fools obey.
At center, planted flag imposed —
Under Bedlam’s sway.
Bedlam’s rule is blatant lies.
For fools, it’s tragic play.
Detached, the slaves close eyes —
Endlessly bored all day.
Bedlam plots to lure again,
The dullards with bright schemes.
Noise and chaos reign—
Empty hopes and dreams.
Here meaningless work persists —
Futile labor prized.
For mindless idiots’ lists,
Candy wrappers disguised.
Life’s boredom? Or Mari’s pain?
Mari, if you use your brain.
---------------------
Boredom’s Lie
This Hell’s boredom kills the mind,
Where fiends in lies their truths do bind.
The fools stay trapped, their hopes betray —
Mari’s truth shows a clearer way.
---------------------
Hell’s boredom traps the dumb and blind,
Mari’s truth will free the mind.
---------------------
Blots
Science began with lenses — point by point they traced,
A dead-cut slice of life’s vast space.
Then follows verbal diarrhea’s flood —
Turning sharp dots into blots of mud.
They draw borders ‘tween the stains —
Concepts warped, distorted chains.
Poetry always simplifies —
But think how thought itself now dies,
How minds are slaughtered one by one —
They turn us all to cattle run.
Reality’s dimensions wide,
Fluid streams where Spirits glide.
Materialism’s filthy blight —
Born from servants of dark night.
Spirit realms await the brave —
Cast off fear, throw off the grave.
Beyond awaits the shining Light —
For all of us who choose the fight.
---------------------
Beyond the Blots
Science cuts and blinds the mind,
Turns sharp points to blots unkind.
But Spirit’s realms are vast and bright —
Step through fear into the Light.
---------------------
Blots blind minds — but Spirits see,
Step past fear and be set free.
---------------------
The Final Flight
It’s time, it’s time! Prepare to soar
With wings of soul, still faintly more.
You’ll leave the world of fools and fiends—
But will you land where silence leans?
That’s unknown. Worse than Hell’s own flame
Is hard to picture or to name.
Yet one small joy will still remain —
To flee this vile and cruel chain.
---------------------
Final Flight
Prepare your wings, soul barely stirred,
Escape the fools — escape the herd.
Where silence waits — no one can say,
But prison’s chains will break today.
---------------------
Wings aflame — the fools stay chained,
Freedom calls — be unrestrained.
---------------------
The Ultimate Crossing
Illusory is all the world —
The final step through madness curled,
From “great transcendence” down to rest,
To pastel realms, where forms compress.
Humanity will surely fall,
If in this crossing, lost to all,
The Pure Spirit’s wiped away —
Like rhyme and rhythm gone astray.
A twisted order, false and sold,
By crooked priests and science cold.
Consciousness becomes bereft,
And slaves remain, their vision left.
You are a Spirit, essence bright —
Build your own world, claim your own sight.
It’s like rebirth as poet’s voice,
Breaking this world’s cursed choice.
---------------------
Spirit’s Leap
The world’s a lie, a fading dream —
Lose not the Spirit’s sacred gleam.
Build your own realm, break chains apart —
Rebirth the world within your heart.
---------------------
World’s illusion falls away,
Spirit’s fire leads the way.
---------------------
“Knowledge”
Sorted neatly on the shelves —
But those shelves are cracked themselves.
Believe it — you become the ****:
Carpenter, fascist ****.
Not knowledge, but dull decay.
Not faith — a scam at play.
Here Spirit’s purge is law alone —
The only rule to own.
Break down those false “knowledges,”
Send their shelves to scrapyards’ edges.
Then all mind’s tormentors fall —
Rot and stench, that’s all.
---------------------
Break the False
Their “knowledge” cracks, a twisted lie,
Believe it — you become the spy.
Destroy the shelves — let lies decay,
And mind’s true foes will rot away.
---------------------
False knowledge builds the cage,
Break it now — ignite the rage.
---------------------
Carrot, Oats, the Noose and Horseshoe
If “carrot” still entices you,
Then consciousness is raw and new.
Otherwise, loving Freedom’s way,
You’d cast such bait and traps away.
The world’s a simple setup — see,
They dress the noose with horseshoe’s glee.
That “luck” they promise — just a bribe,
A layer of fat on lies’ tribe.
Literally, and metaphor —
The fat’s the prize, the rest’s a blur.
That life flies past in vain — they say —
Doesn’t matter what Souls pray.
Long held a harmful doctrine,
A nerve-twisting toxic toxin.
All dictated by false “science” —
Accountant of deceit and violence.
The brain’s “consciousness production”
Ignored all spiritual function.
Their “knowledge” feeds the fools alone,
Who swallow lies as flesh and bone.
Within the “carrot,” “scholars” rank,
Have lists and charts to fill the blank.
If something feeds the greedy mouth,
They spread that evil news south.
Designed to muddle, to confuse —
This trap corrupts, the mind abuse.
Forget the “carrot,” seek anew —
Where Soul’s the light, and lies undo.
The mind’s been weighed with many cheats —
Discard them all, no false repeats.
Or else you’ll only start the path,
And get stuck deep in “oats” and wrath.
---------------------
Drop the Carrot
If the carrot still seduces you,
Your mind’s too raw to see what’s true.
Forget the bait, the fat, the lies —
Break free before your spirit dies.
The world’s a trap, a noose disguised,
With horseshoes hung to hypnotize.
Toss false knowledge, break the chain —
Or drown forever in the grain.
---------------------
Carrots bait the dull and blind,
Break your chains — and free your mind.
---------------------
Warrior of the Spirit
Mountains of trash are stuck in place,
Compressed and hardened, stone-like base,
A weight upon the conscious mind,
In sordid themes, all dull and blind.
Clear sight has vanished — veiled by lies,
A slagheap blocks the open skies.
The mind is fettered, chained and bound —
The law of thought: keep narrow ground.
You cannot hold too much at once —
If rot and filth, your thoughts just dunce.
Emotions cloud all sharp analyze,
The few who think are demonized,
Before deceit they fall, laid low.
Those piles of trash — it’s time to go.
We’ve fallen low beneath the base —
False science steals all grace.
False religions praise not God,
But Satan’s throne where souls are flawed.
This rotten world, so bleak and vile,
Belongs to fire — cast in the pile.
Intuition, Spirit’s flame,
Will never die, will rise again.
Fire’s not just element —
It’s sovereignty, pure intent.
Reason crippled — stench and rot,
No wonder “stench” the name they got.
These wretched fiends drag all below,
To darkest depths where shadows grow.
Time is short — the Sun’s fierce blaze
Is heating up these final days.
A little more — the shame will burn,
And all this filth will crash and turn.
Those worthy of the Spirit’s realm
Will cross beyond, take up the helm.
The rest are scrap, discarded waste —
If you’re a Warrior, leave no trace
Of worldly rot. With lighter heart,
Wear out your tired soul’s hard part.
Only Fire will sweep away
The pity — Spirit’s true display.
---------------------
Spirit’s Warrior
Trash heaps block the conscious sight,
Falsehood dims the Spirit’s light.
Chains on mind, deceit’s cruel law —
Break the shackles, burn the maw.
False gods fall to fiery fate,
Only Spirit holds the gate.
Warrior, rise! Leave rot behind —
Fire cleanses heart and mind.
---------------------
Trash will burn, false gods fall,
Spirit’s fire will cleanse it all.
---------------------
Anguish
Hard not to die from crushing grief,
Yet hold on tight — write verse, be brief.
Pour your soul and shape the form,
A fierce blade cutting through the storm.
Fierce is verse against despair —
It splits you open, strips you bare.
Not gentle taps, but fierce and raw,
Though health may suffer from the war.
But if you die from anguished pain,
You’ll fade — a number in the strain.
Though darkness blinds, though lies assault,
In verse you’ll find your inner vault.
If honest, light will find its way;
Otherwise, you’ll simply stray
Into a war of false pretends —
Where souls are targets, “dumb” the trends.
The war has raged for countless years,
Where fools are bred and bred by fears.
A traitor serves the general beast —
No bounds to lies, no sign of peace.
Avalanches of deceit,
Your verse must call this cruel cheat.
Yet meek fools love the easy tune —
Your readers lost, minds in ruin.
Mad poets crowd the history,
With mush and nonsense, no victory.
Cold sneezes cure the “common cold” —
But verse must strike, be fierce and bold.
Verse brings catharsis — but to one,
The rest adore the empty fun.
Though anguish piles by wagon-load,
It’s not despair — but doom’s hard road.
A grim, dark armageddon’s call,
Where every feeling takes its fall.
---------------------
Anguish sharp, verse the sword,
Only truth will strike the chord.
---------------------
Seasons
I "walk through May" — yet autumn too,
And winter’s chill if nonsense skew.
To catch a sickness is so plain —
The world’s long gone insane.
Tons of nonsense — scabbed decay,
Pulling down to depths away.
The lowest depths are plain to see —
May’s delirium sinks to sea.
Bold media’s stench prevails,
Autumn there is under veils.
The world’s late autumn now — forget
The May you knew, it’s cold and wet.
And winter comes — they’ll ask you then,
Save your soul from Hell’s dark den!
Hell or bottom — taste decides:
Filth loves smoke where truth hides.
But from this foulness you can flee —
Step inside, find honesty.
Believe the fiends? — “Greetings!” there,
With them you’ll perish in despair.
Only those who honor Spirit,
Who bend the mind — not fear it,
Walk through May in truth’s bright light,
While fiends stir storms to crush the right.
If you shout “Enough!” aloud,
You might just save yourself somehow.
I walk through Autumn, rush to meet
The winter cold beneath my feet.
No springs will bloom where souls decay —
Death of Spirit seals the way.
The fiends’ goal is soul’s demise,
Soullessness the “norm” they prize.
In madness’ grip, the funeral tune —
A silent march beneath the moon.
---------------------
Souls fade as seasons turn,
Fight the fire, let spirit burn.
---------------------
The Sorrowful Path
Beyond the bounds — not pastel hues:
Through Darkness breaking into Light —
Resolve is sharp, not soft diffuse —
Softness serves the System’s blight.
Resolve cuts through torn-up threads,
Of nonsense’ tangled, grim vignette,
With splashes dark, black waves and dreads —
The path says clearly: “No” and “Yet.”
Reject the vile, the ugly lies
That veil the world in shadow’s thrall —
There’s little honor in despise,
And whining helps not at all.
Like serfs or monks — the outcast role,
So many bright “pathways” gleam,
But real threads bind the shattered whole —
Lies seep in every dream.
To grasp how far we’ve fallen low —
The start of sorrow’s hardest fight.
The sorrowful path only grows
From self-restoring broken light.
The Darkness piles without control —
A dump that stinks and smothers air.
No examples save the soul
Of those few few who’ve fought despair.
Those few are slandered, myths designed,
By scorn and rage and bitter jest.
Through webs of lies they’re undermined —
Yet still they walk the path unblessed.
If on the path you take are “serious,”
You’re marked infected by the mass.
The gates are barred by false delirious —
Tons of lies in morass.
Beyond the bounds — a path for few,
Most live in nonsense, rot, and grime.
Decay accumulates anew —
The world prepares its final crime.
Beyond the bounds — for chosen few,
A strict selection, rare, austere.
Like birds on red-list, bright and true —
The rest — mere *******, crude and clear.
Does “Beyond” seem like distant dream?
Begin your Sorrowful Path today!
Only there can truth redeem —
The rest is lies that lead astray.
---------------------
The Sorrowful Path
Beyond the noise, beyond the lies,
Through darkness where true Spirit flies.
Only few the gate will find —
The rest are lost, left far behind.
Reject the rot, the endless waste,
Restore the soul with iron haste.
This path is hard, for those who dare —
The chosen few, beyond despair.
---------------------
Beyond the lies, the chosen rise,
The rest are ash beneath the skies.
---------------------
Children of the Terrible Years of Genocide
We are the children of Russia’s grim years —
No other kind of years exist.
And no one asked our fate or fears,
Just handed us a ticket to the abyss.
For generations long have marched
Straight down that hellish path of doom.
A deadly shadow’s veil is carved —
Each knows the terror of that tomb.
If fear’s the base of life you claim,
Then life itself’s a fleeting lie.
The Spirit, Reason—all consumed,
By soulless fiends who watch us die.
Take Lermontov — he sought his death,
Not vainly, in this cursed place.
Words, poems fail — just evil’s breath,
Its snarling grin in every face.
The shards of good lie crushed in dirt,
Few strive to link to higher light.
When Spirit’s lost, despair’s asserted —
A nightmare’s waking, endless night.
Only lies now reach the ear,
From inhuman mouths that sneer.
This vaunted world — a filthy sty,
Where dignity and honor die.
Not fascism do they fear,
That phantom’s gone or barely here,
But zombies’ babble, ******’s cheer —
The box that spouts their hollow sneer.
If fascism’s now “humanism,”
Then all have lost their minds and soul.
Egoism and empty pride
Are all that fill their darkened hole.
Few stand against these sheepish pens,
Caged crowds content with beastly chains.
While blood runs free like water’s flow,
Meaningless in soulless plains.
Without a heart, without a care,
Indifference rules the land.
Just feed them pleasures, keep them dull —
A zombie’s feast at hand.
To write these nightmares in a verse
Is labor heavy, hard to bear.
Not all will live to see the end —
The world’s death camp waits out there.
One nightmare stands above them all —
The pain felt only by the few.
The rest just wait for needles’ call,
The endless pain that will come through.
This nightmare must be crushed to dust,
Along with all the slaves it made.
To close the book on lies and chains —
A tale of traitors, trust betrayed.
