Headlong to the Rift
Headstrong fool, heedless rush!
Doubt is cast aside!
Madmen cheer, they love the crush—
Frenzy is their guide.
Crave success? It's a dream,
All your hopes will rot.
Every effort feeds the scheme
Of those who raze the lot.
Duped again—what a joke!
Fiends will twist your fate.
Every impulse—rash and broke—
Drowns in lies and hate.
Greed and fear take the lead,
Drowning truth in mud.
All that’s left is filth and need,
Flesh and soul both flood.
Charge ahead—meet the fall,
Sink into the pit.
And beneath that lowest wall,
They’ll make you the nit.
---------------------
The Cure for Crisis
"No day without a line,"—a plea,
Though nerves may snap, just let it be.
No flattery for fools—stand tall,
Or sink into the worst of all.
No crisis comes if you stay true,
Face your own depths with honest view.
Thus, you shall keep your spirit bright,
And let the Lyre blaze with light.
This cure is bitter—hard to take,
But saves your soul from false and fake.
Its fire burns the waste away,
So creativity can stay.
---------------------
"Titanic" in Filth
Through fascist foul waters
The Titanic will drown.
Not ice slits its quarters—
But lies drag it down.
The best in all people—
That ship, torn apart.
No hope for a savior—
No "Chosen" to start.
---------------------
Soviet Nomenklatura
Culture and power—worlds apart,
So art is shackled, forced to fade.
No food for soul, no food for heart,
As thought is left to rot and jade.
---------------------
Personality: Hysteria
Reason’s lost, emotions flare,
Logic? None—it’s norm to err.
Cycles feed the wicked prize:
Rot prevails, and virtue dies.
---------------------
A Cat Won’t Wag
A cat won’t wag its tail around—
It holds it high with pride.
No barks or howls will shake the ground—
Just dignity inside.
---------------------
No Shelter Left
No more burrows—doom is near,
When the mind is dull and drear.
Burrows plenty—"science," lies,
Fake religions, greed in ties.
"Economics" built for slaves,
Rage and rudeness—empty waves.
Blind obedience, stubborn stance—
None will give a fighting chance.
In the end, there’s no defense—
Solar Doom will claim us hence.
---------------------
Breeding Idiots
A question—wrong.
The answer—dumb.
And all along—
Another numb.
---------------------
Rumors and Media
Like flies, the rumors swarm and stick,
Dumping filth on fools real quick,
Layered thick to cloud the mind,
Crushing thought in dirt confined.
And through the media they spread,
Each one dumber than the last.
No way out—just burn it dead,
Watch it rise again as fast.
---------------------
Wishful Lies
Desires and lies are tightly entwined—
"For fools, the best!" the fiends proclaim.
Yet all that they spawn is brutal and blind,
Just one more step in Hell’s own flame.
--- Total 10 poems. ---