The Yoke of “Freedom”
"We'll cast off the shackles of freedom and the yoke of democracy."
— Vladimir Polyakov
The yoke of “freedom” — dreams turned fiction,
A trap of hope, a blinding mist,
From BEASTS we learned our shallow diction —
And sank below the blackest abyss.
No, that fake yoke will not be lifted —
“Improve the world”? The cost was steep:
Fascistic filth now rules, uplifted,
And drags us down to herded sheep.
The “minds” of dulled and drooling masses —
This world’s long turned a freak parade.
Each day, more twisted horror passes —
It's time to pierce the deeper shade.
That second floor of lies from BEASTS —
A doctrine soaked in veiled Hell-fire.
The mob sees not the Satan’s feast
Behind the Mask they all admire.
We’ll pierce it through — and fall, forsaken,
To deepest Hell — as well we should.
For now, the global camp is taken
By savage Evil, building good.
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A yoke called “freedom” crushed the mind —
And dragged the world to sheep and slime.
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The Boredom of Pseudo-Life
Life is dull — it’s no illusion:
This world’s a fake, a grim delusion.
The Realms of Spirit hold the key —
Hints, not orders, set you free.
Commands and “wise” advice are chains,
Spawned by darkness, soaked in stains.
Heed them — rot will soon begin,
And **** your soul from deep within.
A mind without the Spirit? — Hell.
That’s why the world’s a fascist shell.
God’s spark was sold by fools and knaves
For wallets, gadgets, gold — as slaves.
"Just fine!" — the brute declares with pride,
As dumbness spreads, and truth has died.
"Normal" now is mental rot —
Thanks to Satan’s stealthy plot.
Among such fools, joy’s out of reach.
Their numbers grow — they yell, they screech,
And fuel the fascist brute parade
With every shove and block and blade.
They’re gray as mold, a mindless swarm —
Shoving elbows, buying form,
Crowding aisles, consuming lies,
Blindly marching toward new cries
Of Hell ahead — it’s almost here.
This grayness — worse than sulfur fear.
Don’t walk that path with empty eyes —
Just trust your soul, where wisdom lies.
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“Normal” now is dumb and dead —
The soul is starved, the mind is led.
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The Commissariat of Sold-Out Verse
(after Bulat Okudzhava's “Commissars in Dusty Helmets”)
"Commissars in dusty helmets" —
Okudzhava missed the mark.
Truth gets twisted into velvet
When you skip the slaughter's dark.
Commissars had shot his kin —
All of them. A ******* crime.
Yet he sang of jails within,
As if rot deserved a rhyme.
To that vile, demented system
Swarmed the ****-ups, proud and loud.
Only slaves would dare assist 'em,
Printing filth to please the crowd.
Went to layout like to slaughter,
Selling soul for lines of shame.
While the honest ones — no quarter —
Tore their shirts but spoke no name.
Commissars in dusty cover
Broke the country, crushed the land.
Those who dared to cry or stutter
Died like rebels — hand in hand.
Now the filth is even fouler —
Worse than them — so rise and fight!
Let your verses mark the howlers,
Sting the traitors out of sight.
Let the verse erupt and sear —
For when fascism masks as “love,”
Poets bleed instead of cheer,
Smearing ink with sacred stuff.
This’s the only path to take
If the End of Times has come:
Stop the sugar, stop the fake —
Write against the marching ****!
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When verse obeys — the soul is dead.
Real poems fight the lies instead.
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Answers Without a Question
Immaculate conception?
Just like budding in a jar.
Faith in nonsense breeds deception —
Flood them deep and rule by far.
Drown them in a sweet illusion,
“Sanctify” it with a lie.
Then destroy — through mass confusion —
Mind and Spirit, Truth and Pride.
Use a priestly horde to spread it,
Bolder lies and thicker fog.
Truth will softly call — but let it
Reach the Soul like distant log.
Truth speaks gently, never shouting.
You must seek it, heart in hand.
But the herds are kept from doubting
By a roar they understand:
Wild-eyed sermons, empty phrases,
Words that mimic human speech.
Truth escapes those stable mazes —
Only hearts and minds can reach.
Thinking sharp, not blind believing,
No examples, no "because" —
This alone resists deceiving.
This is how you fight the claws.
All’s within — so why a preacher?
Only business needs a “guide.”
Every pulpit-seller teacher
Is a crook in holy hide.
Intuition, inner sensing,
Critical, creative thought —
These are answers worth commencing.
Ask the question you have brought.
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Truth is quiet. Lies parade.
Ask your question — unafraid.
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Outer Goals — The Root of Fools and Control
The light’s within — the fog is outer.
The deeper fog, the darker night.
The world, my friend, is full of doubters —
Find their truths — and lose the Light.
A goal “out there” is mass production
Of mindless fools and marching meat.
They just tweak the goal’s construction —
Same old chains, but now “elite.”
True goal’s within, not in the rubble
Of worldly junk and rotting lies.
Creation’s spark, not learned-through-trouble,
Is where real, knowing power lies.
A goal in “future” is deception,
Crowd control in sleek disguise.
Didn’t reach it? New direction! —
Feed the sick with fresher lies.
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Outer goals — control the head.
Truth is here, not in what’s said.
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The Goal Within
The Light is quiet, glowing inward.
Outside — a fog that thickens fast.
The mind gets lost in shifting forward,
And Truth is veiled as shadows pass.
The world feeds lies in gilded wrapping —
A friend, beware the outer chase.
Each "noble aim" is just entrapment —
It steals the Light, it dims your grace.
To chase what’s “next” is mass illusion,
A tool to herd, a game of chains.
They shift the goal — it breeds confusion,
And binds the soul in silent pains.
But in the core, beneath the clutter,
Where matter bends to Spirit’s gaze,
The pulse of Knowing starts to flutter —
No future there, no worldly praise.
No preacher there, no map, no measure,
Just presence — clear, alive, and still.
Not reaching out, but holding treasure
The outer world can’t touch or ****.
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The Light is here — don’t chase the mist.
The goal’s within... and it just is.
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No Goal, No Fog
No goal to seek.
No path to win.
The fog is loud —
But Light is in.
Don’t chase the form,
Don’t trust the flame.
What shifts and moves
Will shift to shame.
Be still. Unfold.
No future here.
The Now is vast.
The Heart is clear.
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Ash of Purpose
No goal. Just ash.
The dream is thin.
You chase the fog —
It pulls you in.
No path remains.
No hand, no guide.
The Light you were —
You left outside.
The future speaks —
It always lies.
It feeds the weak
And blinds the wise.
So sit in dark.
Let all things fall.
The One that stays
Is none at all.
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Zero
Not light.
Not dark.
Not fire.
Not spark.
No self.
No name.
No breath.
No flame.
No goal.
No fear.
No sound.
No here.
No past.
No start.
Just Void —
and Heart.
---
After Zero
No word —
but pulse.
No flame —
but glow.
No edge —
just space.
No “where” —
but flow.
No “I” —
just this:
a breathless
yes.
It moves
but still.
It knows —
but will?
No need.
No plan.
Just Light
began.
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Creating Dead Souls with Fear and Lies
With fear of death, they breed the dead—
Believe propaganda’s lies,
And you’ll become a numb misled,
A fool beneath god’s disguise.
They spin their scary tales around,
You swallow all the foolish fear,
Become a coward, dumb and bound,
A puppet trapped in darkened gear.
Once caught inside this deadlocked spin,
Only fear remains to reign,
The mind shrinks small, worn thin within,
The soul dissolves in choking pain.
With broken spirit, all is lost—
The world is canned, rights sold and sealed.
This “citizen” pays the cost
In fake lands where truths are peeled.
CowID showed the Great ***’s face—
He rules through filth and vile ****.
Spreading chaos, lawless space,
Where evil grows and rules become.
The world beneath satan’s throne—
No hope, no future left to see.
When fools infect the masses’ bone,
Humanity fades utterly.
Fear plus folly, now no man—
Just nonsense crowds, dead souls’ domain.
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Fear breeds dead; lies keep them chained—
No soul remains, just fools retained.
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True Art
Invite the pain, the fear,
Transform them, forge them strong —
For freedom’s sake, not for the drear
Of fools who play along.
Will you find Light?
Unlikely, friend...
Will you break the blight?
Somewhere near the end.
They’ll write their songs, their lies,
Respond: “Give up the fight!”
But don’t you fall for their disguise,
Hold fast your will and might.
Though toiling “in the drawer,”
Though honor pays no toll,
Don’t trade your fire for shallow roar
Of crowds who clutch control.
So dare! Though vain the grind,
Though hardship chains your path,
For liars rule the blinded mind —
Condemning honest wrath.
The truthful now are rare and few,
Dull pride has taken throne.
In fake art’s stench, the rotten brew
Drowns reason, chills the bone.
Like public pleasuring,
The putrid feelings reign.
Fascism stalks, the decent mute —
Or scribble all in vain.
With zero reach, you slave like ox,
In dark, forsaken pits.
Yet still your soul will break the locks —
True words ignite the blitz.
Among the kneeling, fallen ranks,
The Creators’ spirits rise —
Their genuine, earth-shattering thanks
Shatter the falsehood’s lies.
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True art bleeds pain, not empty cheers —
It fights alone, but conquers fears.
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Pseudoscience, Media, and Sold-Out “Culture”
The samples fixed —
“Commissioned” reigns supreme.
Degrees achieved,
But monsters rule the scheme.
Orders flood from foulest lair,
Like plagues that spread in endless tide.
False diseases — viral scare —
They launched a test stone far and wide.
CowID fools command the game,
Masters of deceit and fear.
Pseudoscience, ashes — shame,
Decay grows far and near.
The same decay infects “culture” too,
Though literature seems less oppressed.
Yet devils push their flamed debut,
While honest work’s depressed.
No money — just a worthless shell,
In lying lands, a ghost unseen.
“Vatniks” praised in hellish hell,
The monsters’ “Pecheneg” machine.
“Strongholds,” “Rise up from your knees!” —
They march you straight to slaughter’s door.
Truth’s voices squeak midst howling seas,
Censorship strikes silence more.
No new age — just darkest blight,
The sellouts howl, the media’s flood.
Infernal world sinks out of sight,
A bottomless pit of blood.
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Lies spread fast — the fools obey,
The world decays in shadow’s sway.
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Pseudoscience, Media ******, and Bought-Out “Culture”
Samples rigged — the fix is in.
Paid-for lies run deep and wide.
Degrees? Just masks for filthy sin —
Monsters in the world now ride.
Orders flood from devil’s pit,
Plagues of fake disease unleashed.
False AIDS tests? They threw a fit,
CowID fools have lied and fleeced.
Fear and lies — their cruel dominion.
Pseudoscience rots to dust.
Decay spreads fast — no redemption,
Truth’s crushed bones lie in the rust.
Same decay invades “culture” —
Though lit looks less consumed by grime.
But devils hype their ***** vulture,
While honest work’s a crime.
No cash — just wrappers, worthless ****.
In lies’ swamp, you’re ghost and waste.
“Vatnik” trash rules every bit —
Monsters feast in savage haste.
“Stand up!” they scream — to slaughter’s field,
Where truth’s a squeak drowned by the wolf.
Censorship’s a steel-clad shield,
Silencing all honest proof.
No bright dawn — just blind damnation.
Sellouts howl through total lies.
This world’s a pit, an abomination —
Infernal hell beneath black skies.
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Lies feed fools — truth’s on the run,
The world’s a pit, no light, no sun.
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Pseudoscience “Experiments”
"To defend a theory,
One can conduct enough research."
— Arthur Bloch, Murphy’s Law
"The more knowledge,
The deeper the ignorance."
— Buddhist Saying
The “scientist” works tireless,
To prove his sacred creed:
He runs “experiments” ceaseless,
Rejects what breaks his feed.
Facts and tests that don’t align
Become “artifacts” at best.
Thousands warp the grand design —
A rotten, false contest.
Built to serve some dark agenda,
Foreign to true knowing’s light.
Cash and lies fuel the propaganda,
Just to cloak the wrong and blight.
The world’s trapped deep in madness —
“Science” wiped the soul away.
Logic cramps the mind’s gladness,
Without intuition’s sway.
Dry reason without feeling
Leads the self to slow decay.
“Just prove that nonsense, no big deal!” —
The fool believes the play.
Direct Vision — mind’s true core,
Healthy psyche’s shining base.
“Science” hunts that truth once more —
To sink it to disgrace.
We’re at the bottom, sinking fast,
Science’s tank runs dry below.
Its echoes keep us trapped, aghast,
Like sea cucumbers, minds won’t grow.
When you buy their lies in whole,
Killing your intuitive spark,
You open evil’s door to soul,
And plunge into the dark.
More “knowledge” means more ignorance —
Remember well this bitter song.
Pseudoscience leads the dance,
To the madhouse all along.
Two thirds of earth’s locked in the cage,
Believing “science” lies and games.
Is “science” just an axe and rage,
To hack the living soul in flames?
“Science” forged by soulless fiends,
For evil’s simple, cruel demand.
They need dull slaves with cracked-up minds,
With “knowledge” hammered, not to stand.
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More “science,” more the dark unknown —
Pseudoknowledge kills the soul alone.
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Worthy...
"Worthy above all —
To not let those who give out favors
Drive you to the stall,
Or shut your mouth with hay."
— Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 1976
Worthy — even if all’s a wreck,
Sometimes the only way is death.
If chances fail, then die unchecked —
For “living” means to lose your breath.
Only death can purge the flood
Of filth that floods your weary mind.
The Beast through ages breeds its mud —
A mockery of soul confined.
Suicide’s a coward’s game —
Die fighting if you’ve got the might.
You cannot crush the World’s own shame —
This chaos is the “law” of night.
But only by the fight alone
Can you your spirit hope to save.
We all dream crowns — but stand alone,
Not heralds, not the brave.
So “dance away from fire’s glow” —
That’s how the battle’s truly won.
Be but a bad forerunner’s show —
And fate of slaves you’ll overrun.
Slavery and dullness reign —
A poison foul, unfit for men.
Create, resist — let not the stain
Of wretchedness consume your ken.
**** every fear — it’s late to scare,
Armageddon’s world awaits.
It comes with wrath, a grim affair —
We stand within the End of Dates.
The Sun shines stronger, magma flows
Beneath Antarctic’s frozen crust.
The world — spawn of Marasmus — grows
Drowned in the Beast’s relentless lust.
Fight Evil worthily, with calm,
Meet your poor fate with steady heart.
Your choice: fake plagues, or war’s alarm —
Or Cataclysm’s fresh start.
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Worthy fight, though all decays —
Choose your end, and not the haze.
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Mocking Troops, or False Reasons to Not Fight Evil
Marines for sport —
The real foes lie within.
Those beasts hold court,
Their victories are grim.
Don’t fool yourself — you don’t feel
The filth you thrash inside.
You "justify" the seal,
Diving deep in lies’ tide.
They teach those “foundations”
Since cradle to the dumb.
The fools flock to stations —
To cops and troops they come.
Men join communes —
A new fight’s born this way.
But fools swarm like ruins —
Slaves stuck in decay.
It’s time to unite
With minds that still can see —
Or sink into the blight
Of rat holes endlessly.
Rat holes, not rabbit dens —
A stupid world confined.
All “ideas” chain the lens —
Slavery’s harsh bind.
The end is coming — cataclysms
Will wipe this fake world clean.
But for fascism’s schisms,
The sheep still play the scene.
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Troops for show, fools abound,
Rats will sink this sinking ground.
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The “Sailors” Have No Questions...
The **** have lost all questions;
The fools have killed the light —
Their Honor, Conscience, Soul,
Drowned in verbal spite.
A flood of words —
Dark forces scream and crow.
No questions left — just lies,
Commands that never show.
The world’s last song is sung,
Its end is set, not free.
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Pharisee’s Odyssey
Bend yourself much deeper still,
Lie more stupid, lie with spite,
Be the cruel to weak at will —
That’s the way to win the fight.
No need to roam or stray afar —
You’ll fit right in where villains dwell,
If you become a selling scar,
Forgetting honor, truth, and hell.
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Questions Without Answers
Is there a lyre inside the latrine?
Is wisdom needed ‘midst the fools?
Is this a den, a humble scene,
Or just a chain that binds and rules?
Chains of lies, submission, fear,
Of treachery and twilight mind.
Is this the world — a scaffold near,
Or heaps of filth for us to find?
---------------------
View from Hell, or Another Armageddon
Pol *** waits not —
No place in Hell.
A wretched mob,
For beasts, their hell.
Building here
A New Inferno.
The fool cheers:
“All for peace, you know!”
Protective lies,
The creatures preach.
All calm and smooth —
In False Land’s reach.
One “Pol ***”
We always hear.
Fascism walks —
Lies sharp and clear.
The pitiful crowd
Listens quick.
Soon only wise
Will face the wick.
Obedient to Darkness,
They profit well,
While dust in noose
Keeps burning hell.
From Hell to Hell —
A world’s bleak road.
Corrupt fiends,
Abundant load.
Not Pol *** —
Much worse they be.
Darkness descends
Through them, you see.
The people burned
Like ****** sheets,
Calling evil
“Good” with deceit.
That Darkness half
Has crushed the spine
Of “peoples” — or
Are monsters in line?
Like wheels of grief,
No end in sight.
We wait again
For doom’s dark night.
Armageddon looms —
Hell’s paradise —
The final fall,
The coldest ice.
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Hell builds hell, the fools obey,
Another end, another day.
---------------------
From Hell’s Eye, Another Armageddon
Pol *** waits not — no room below,
In Hell where shadows coil and flow.
A pitiful herd, dark spirits’ dough,
The forge of beasts, their world of woe.
They build anew the fiery gate,
A New Abyss, a cursed fate.
The fool rejoices, deaf to hate:
“All for peace,” their poisoned bait.
Whispers veil the silent grave,
False calm in lies the darkness gave.
In False Land’s maze, the lost enslave,
One voice: “Pol ***,” the reaper’s stave.
Fascism breathes, a roaring flame,
Striking lies in endless game.
The herd obeys without a name,
Only wise shall face the blame.
Bound to Night’s eternal claim,
They profit while the embers maim.
Dust in noose, the burning frame,
From Hell to Hell — the cycle’s same.
Not Pol ***’s shadow, darker still,
Through cursed veins, the darkness spills.
The people scorched on broken hills,
Call evil good, the lie distills.
Half the dark has bowed the spine
Of “peoples” lost, or monsters’ line?
Wheels of sorrow, endless twine —
We wait the final, cold design.
Armageddon’s breath draws near,
Hell’s embrace, both dread and seer.
The end unfolds without a tear —
A sacred death, a timeless sphere.
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From depths of Hell, the shadows rise —
The final dawn in darkened skies.
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Into the New Hell...
Staged performances—
A fabricated little world.
Only lies make it so dense,
Its time draws near, unfurled.
The point of no return long passed—
Into the NEW HELL we go.
The **** were ready, standing fast,
Glad for crumbs in shadow’s glow.
Into the New Hell — debts unpaid—
It’s just beyond the rise.
Once thieves alone, now fascist made,
A hero in disguise.
A bureaucrat, a tyrant’s hand,
A wicked propaganda mouth,
A teacher rotting souls like sand,
A doctor sold to south.
The Earth’s Kunstkamera,
Save rare few escape the gloom—
All march inside this prison bar,
While paradise’s myths
Are for donkeys’ doom.
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New Hell waits — no debts to pay,
Fascists lead, thieves fade away.
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The Pit of the World
"And so this street,
Or rather, this pit
Is named for
That Mandelstam..."
— Osip Mandelstam, “Mandelstam Street,” 1935
Mandelstam! The PIT! Oh, Mother,
Don’t bear children into Hell:
To call things straight — three quarters
Of the world’s a den of hell.
Among the beasts, the Pure at Heart —
Like Osip’s shining Light —
Perish, nowhere to depart,
Beneath the brute’s harsh blight.
The brute will call white soot black,
And poets evil foes;
The beasts will rise in vicious pack —
To jail or madhouse goes.
They shot Gumilyov down,
Said: “Serves him right,” no shame.
Fools sunk low beneath the crown
Of TOTAL lying’s flame.
And Marina Tsvetaeva —
They crushed her to the noose.
If here the beast is led from man —
Stay silent, lie — abuse!
Mandelstam’s pit? Exactly:
A world that bows to Evil’s throne!
Be wise and stubborn, act exactly —
Create, defy that groan.
Mousetraps with rotten cheese —
The fools’ “good” they prize so much.
Be lone, if your mind’s at ease —
Among beasts, you’ll lose your touch.
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Mandelstam’s pit — a world in chains,
Create, resist — break Evil’s reins.
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In the Mousetrap
Nature’s more complex than “pure logic,”
Math’s cold rules don’t always fit.
Pedagogy drives the crooked spike
Into minds, to dull their wit.
The builder—cruel—commands the build
Of World’s dark Fortress of Evil.
The “scientist” speeds up the drill,
“Proving” what fools find feasible.
“Proof” misses spiritual flows—
To donkeys, the world’s quite plain.
The beasts, through media’s loud throes,
Preach the free cheese — a poisoned gain.
All mousetraps—fictitious lands—
A pen for fools, a herded crowd.
Another metaphor — sheep at hand,
Led to slaughter ’neath goat’s loud shroud.
The worst revealed by CowID —
A world a spawn of Evil’s might.
Ruled by beasts, and traitors feed
The goat’s commands to blind sheep’s plight.
The World’s Great Goat, Satan’s face,
Set false science’s wheels in motion.
In slaves’ minds, chains of disgrace—
Proofs fool’s faith, a blind devotion.
Idiocy’s no random fate —
Stupidity’s plague, worldwide spread.
Beasts control through slow decay,
A herd of cattle, numb and dead.
Their goal: to turn men into beasts,
Erase what’s human in the soul,
Make simple all — without a feast —
A digital collar, a control.
To the World’s Concentration Camp,
Sheep led on by programmed score.
AI rewards in cruel stamp—
A shame upon Earth’s core.
Construction plans face doom ahead,
A vile Cataclysm will sweep.
While Lies’ Ocean floods instead,
Foul fascism crawls and creeps.
---------------------
Trapped in lies, the herd obeys,
Digital chains seal all our days.
---------------------
Within the Mousetrap
Nature’s threads—far beyond cold logic’s grip,
Mathematics fails to bind the spirit’s flow.
Pedagogy drives nails that choke the mind’s bright ship,
A twisted forge where sterile shadows grow.
The builder vile commands the darkened spire,
Raising walls of the World’s Eternal Hell.
The “scholar” quickens lies’ relentless fire—
Proofs forged to bind the donkey’s spell.
Spirit’s currents pass the “proof” unseen,
To fools, the world’s a flat, dull stone.
Through media’s whisper, the beast’s machine
Sings of free cheese—an abyss unknown.
Mousetraps lie in phantom lands afar—
Pens for sheep, a march to doom.
Goats shout loud, the final war—
The flock moves blind toward their tomb.
CowID’s veil reveals the cursed ground,
A spawn of darkness, ruled by fiends.
Beasts command, and traitors bound,
The goat’s dark will in silent means.
The Great Goat, Satan’s hidden face,
Set false science’s sacred rites.
Chains of ignorance enslave the race,
In shadows cast from endless nights.
Stupidity’s a sacred blight,
Spread like plague through mortal clay.
Decay’s throne rules out of sight—
Beasts herd men who lose their way.
The last design: to break the soul,
Erase the light, impose the bind.
A digital collar takes its toll,
The cage for heart and mind confined.
To the World’s cold camp they lead,
Sheep numbered, marked, and scored.
AI feeds the hunger’s greed—
The Earth’s lament ignored.
But soon the Cataclysm’s breath
Will sweep the cursed plans away.
Till then, the Ocean’s flood of death
Drowns hope beneath the grey.
---------------------
Shadows weave a silent snare,
Souls confined in dark despair.
---------------------
Moments of Decay
"I remember a wondrous moment:
Before me you appeared,
Like a fleeting vision,
Like a genius of pure beauty."
— A. Pushkin, “To *,” 1825
No need to seek those wondrous times,
Or guard them like a holy spell.
The ascetic walks rough paths and climbs —
Decay’s around, a stench of hell.
You’ll always fail, when passions reign,
Forgetting reason, “being’s” core.
Live through the PAIN, endure the strain —
Don’t rot and crawl in putrid gore.
Decay is everywhere, each breath
Is tinged with rot’s unholy scent.
Only Creation cheats slow death,
If madness' prison’s not consent.
The madhouse world — CowID
Revealed the dull fascist scream.
Three quarters in this rotten sea
Are **** that sell the broken dream.
Love’s a fetish, often doll —
No human there, just empty shell.
In greed and lust the spirits fall,
Dark holes in “consciousness” dwell.
Remember that wondrous flash,
When inward you retreat alone;
Where rot and nonsense fail to lash,
If still the Spirit burns like stone.
Legions of soulless beasts abound,
Stupidity—a plague that spreads.
Megatons of lies surround—
Shield not your head; disease embeds.
You’ll fall ill, like many do—
Idiots now the majority.
Warrior propagandists brew
Demons led by Goat’s decree.
The beasts grow wild, their madness deep—
A sign the End is drawing near.
Yet total lies still make fools leap—
Blind led by one who’s lame and queer.
That “distant” path ends in a cliff—
Where all the rot will be laid bare.
But all is “fine” in false belief—
Moments of “joy,” illusions rare...
---------------------
Decay’s all around, rot in the air,
Spirit burns — if you still dare.
---------------------
Endless, Boundless Despair
"O spring without end, without bound—
Endless, boundless dream!
I recognize you, life! I’m found!
And hail you with shield’s gleam!"
— Alexander Blok, 1907
O boundless, endless, aching woe,
Endless, boundless grief and pain:
In hopeless depths I fade and go,
So weary of the slave’s cruel chain.
Since youth, I’ve scorned the labels pinned—
“Freedom here”—I send them all to hell.
Only pain and weariness have sinned,
Passed down by beasts whose souls fell.
Poverty, a legacy of ache,
Passed on through every slavish frame.
No hope for Reason’s dawn to break—
This world is sick, and none to blame.
Madness handed down through years,
To new generations it is sworn.
With fear and pain, the seed appears—
The many lost, the fools are born.
O boundless, endless misery...
Only Cataclysm may disperse,
But not a path to paradise—
A New Hell comes for fascist curse.
A few may pass to realms apart,
Unchained, unbound, fierce in fight,
Free from Hell’s deceiving art,
Defiant in eternal light.
True freedom lies beyond the lies,
The fruit of struggle long endured.
But fools, too blind to recognize,
Reject all truth, forever lured.
Such freedom dwells in minds of few—
A doomed world clings to rot and spite.
Tortures go on, though time is few,
To strain the mind in endless night.
And boundless, endless sorrow guards
The rage of Darkness, deep and cold:
Now only pain can keep the shards—
In lies, the beasts control the bold.
---------------------
Endless grief, the spirit’s fight,
Few are free within the night.
---------------------
Marching in a Howl...
Idiots know—the Führer’s best.
Idiots trust—he’ll save the rest:
With just a glance, he’ll crush the foes,
Blow every storm with mighty blows.
Idiots march in rigid line,
To crush the enemy’s design.
Propaganda’s howl, like whip,
Drives them on—no chance to slip.
---------------------
Science Madness
The stubborn way they mock and scorn
Life’s riddles deep and vast —
Is but a sieve that filters scorn,
“Science” lies from first to last.
In name of saving reason’s flame,
They smother all the strange,
The irrational, the same
That makes fake science change.
Their logic’s warped beyond all bounds
Where miracles draw near,
Not trivial things, but sacred grounds
They crush with scoffing sneer.
There’re countless such examples told,
But this is not their tale:
In minds corrupt and spirit cold
Beliefs doomed to fail.
Only fools will trust the lies
Of orders pre-designed,
The bogus science’s disguise—
Rot that’s long declined.
Rot where spirit’s scorned and crushed,
Pure soul dismissed as fake;
Their leader, horned and foul and hushed,
Small souls he loves to break.
Master, corrupter, priest of lies,
Science’s dark facade,
Tempts with his deceiving guise—
Drags all to death’s façade.
The CowID’s wicked game
Dragged fools into the pen.
No doubt—the lies give power’s name
To warped and twisted men.
“Scientific” freaks and fiends,
And propaganda’s roar,
Will bring us down by evil means,
While spirit’s gone before.
They purge the soul, their only aim—
Science as executioner.
From every place, this wicked game
Was planned by sinister cur.
The mystery of life’s true light
They’ve turned to slime and fear.
And those who bear God’s spark so bright—
Are slugged and dragged down here.
All gray and bleak, the final cost—
Darkness’ ruthless attack.
Fake science launches every shot
To keep the world off track.
Those ******* sell their poisoned lies,
Our enemies in kind.
But reckoning shall surely rise,
When soul leads mind.
Mad science madness fades away—
A sickness, stale and vile,
And reason’s light shall claim the day,
Free from that dreadful trial.
---------------------
Personality
“A question hangs: does true self exist,
Or just a mass of conditioned twists?”
— Jiddu Krishnamurti’s voice insists.
A nested doll, all cracked and worn,
Paint running off, truth torn,
Lies overflow, with poison born,
Darkness feeds this world forlorn.
Under pressure of deceit,
They **** the mind with fear’s deceit—
Since childhood trapped in dread’s defeat,
Crunch-crunch, the lies repeat.
They prize submission’s empty claim—
Consume the rot, remain the same.
Feed your fears, then bear the blame,
Become dull, a dim-lit flame.
They piece together you and me
Like matryoshkas endlessly—
Schizophrenia’s layered spree,
A tangled mass, a misery.
It spreads so fast—a chaotic stew,
Seeming solid, yet untrue.
Nothing whole inside for you,
Unless pure Spirit holds it through.
No lie or full and selfish gut
Can bind the shards, the shattered cut.
Today from filth they mold anew—
Fascism’s cups are filling through.
Drink deep, drown out your soul’s own cry,
They give it free—just sip and die.
Blood drunk down, the spirit’s sigh—
Killed gently under painted sky.
No need to ****, just keep the peace—
Silence builds the foul increase.
Become a worm, the rot’s release,
While propaganda’s howls never cease.
Lies fall heavy, never slight,
In these last days, a fading light.
Fascist Hell looms in the night,
Soon shattered, skies regain their height.
Cleansed by cataclysm’s harsh hand,
This shameful Hell, this cursed land,
Branded fascism, vile and grand—
Few escape its grasp or stand.
Strengthen Spirit, hold the flame—
Only thus you’ll break the chain.
Cataclysm’s no myth, no game—
It’s coming soon to cleanse the pain.
---------------------
Men and Rodents
Here tiny men gnaw at crumbs —
Each other’s scraps, their petty sums.
Minds so poor, a chaos thrums,
A maddened mess where madness drums.
**** reigns supreme, the traitor’s king,
While worthy souls have lost their wing.
Stupidity’s a rock that clings,
Unyielding, crushing all bright things.
From coal to diamond through the years,
Yet dullness breeds and feeds on fears.
In jungle dark, the talent clears —
But bends to **** and disappears.
If to the filth you bow your head,
Forget the Light you once had led,
You’ll rot in muck — the cursed bed,
Where all the world’s lost hope is fed.
Patience of freaks, their dull disgrace —
A monstrous, ever-growing plague.
So many madmen fill this place,
Darkness thrives and wins the race.
Total chaos, boundless fools,
War’s bloodless now, no ****** pools.
Fascism’s needle kills and rules,
While tiny men play petty duels.
These tiny men, the worthy hate,
Forget the books that idiots state.
Trash and lies—they pile the freight,
A cesspool filled with poisoned bait.
You are the Spirit, hold it tight—
In this madhouse, it’s your light.
Answers come from Spirit’s height,
While fools deserve disdain outright.
The End approaches, war with Mind,
From the abyss, salvation find.
Cataclysms cleanse the blind,
And end will come for those unkind.
The worthy saved if Spirit leads,
While creatures tremble, dread proceeds.
The foul stench from media feeds,
For it knows shame will drown their creeds.
---------------------
Men and Vermin
Small men gnaw on scraps like rats,
Minds are weak, a chaos spats.
**** rules — traitors, kings of slime,
The worthy crushed by rocks of time.
Coal to diamond, fate’s design,
But dullness thrives, devours the spine.
In jungles dark, the gifted fall —
Bow to filth, you lose it all.
Patience of monsters, sin profound,
Madness everywhere abounds.
Darkness wins — the fools comply,
War bloodless, fascists’ syringe nigh.
Tiny men, foes to the wise,
Burn the books, embrace the lies.
Trash and venom feed the lie,
Spirit’s flame alone can fly.
Fools deserve the harshest scorn,
End is near — new war is born.
From abyss the saved arise,
Cataclysm clears the skies.
Those who fight with spirit’s sword,
Escape the dark, embrace the Lord.
Beasts tremble, smell defeat,
Media’s lies meet their heat.
---------------------
Men and Vermin
Small men gnaw like rats on scraps,
Minds starved thin in chaos’ traps.
****’s the king, the traitor’s throne,
Worthies crushed beneath the stone.
Coal turns diamond through the pain,
Dullness guards the cursed chain.
In these jungles, sharp will fall —
Bow to filth, you lose it all.
Monsters’ patience, sin’s deep scar,
Madness rules both near and far.
Darkness wins, fools march in line,
War bloodless — fascist’s sign.
Tiny men, the wise they hate,
Burn the books, embrace their fate.
Trash and lies breed venom’s sting,
Spirit’s fire alone can sing.
Fools deserve contempt and scorn,
End approaches, war is born.
From the abyss the saved arise,
Cataclysm clears the skies.
Fight with Spirit’s flaming sword,
Escape the dark — obey no lord.
Beasts now tremble, taste defeat,
Media’s lies face their heat.
---------------------
Banana-nyama
The monkey’s full, the monkey’s drunk,
But bananas? Nope — just junk.
Total lies — a stinking stew,
Building cages, brick by glue.
Filth spreads out — yet devils build,
Claiming food, and “bonds” fulfilled.
This poem’s truth, the world’s disgrace —
Both absurd, a sick disgrace.
---------------------
At Full Speed…
The secret’s out, the Devil rules,
The world’s a pawn, the Devil’s fools.
Faster, quicker — all aboard!
Rush to hell, no time ignored.
This fragile world’s sent off to camp,
Where reason dies — the final stamp.
There lies flow like magic’s wine,
“Care” a scare, betrayal’s sign.
Falsehood reigns, the ruling shame,
Their rule defiles the soul’s own flame.
Soullessness — the only goal…
At full speed down the darkened shoal.
Then, as the last speck turns to dust,
The little ship will break and rust.
From dust will rise the fiery pit,
While Spirit fades — the fiend will sit.