Presumed as guilty—such are we,
The spawn of Satan's legacy.
While only few hold God inside,
They face the law, no place to hide...

Schoolboyish junk
Has filled up your brain.
Too lazy to think—
You're blind in the rain.

The printed word is filth and fraud,
The world’s a ring where fools applaud.
The heavyweight will shove away
The light and those who shun the play.


In Russian:

Пресса

Печатного слова дерьмо:
Мир глупый похож на сумо —
Из круга погонит толстяк
Всех тонких, не падких до врак.

If we all obey, will perish,
Will be bleating, loud and blind.
Slaughter’s coming—should we cherish
Any hopes of different kind?

Like North Korea’s order,
Be shocked at what you see!
Or soon the madhouse border
Will claim your sanity.

Koreans never tasted
The filth in full display,
While masters of deception
Drove all the world astray.

Now North Korea's madness
Seems rational and bright—
For fewer are resisting
The creatures void of light.

And all of "education"—
A global Juche scheme:
It masks the degradation,
Sows lies within a dream.

Filth and frenzy,
Lies keep spreading.
The more brazen,
The more blatant
Grows their preaching.
Vile and screeching,
Till the herd is drowning deep—
Trust the evil, stay asleep!

"Any question can be answered, if it's asked the right way."
—Plato


Few dare to ask the questions true,
Amid the lies that flood the view.
With twisted tales, they boldly boast,
And leave the mind a hollow ghost.

They **** all reason, slyly shove
An answer first, then claim it’s love.
Yet what they feed is poison, dread,
A world insane, where truth is dead.

Madness grows — a circus grim,
Each generation dull and dim.
Their dream: to turn the world to swine,
A genocide by dark design.

In shadows deep, they plot, they scheme,
CowID stands as their wicked dream.
Yet some, who think and ask their own,
Stand tall where light of truth has shone.

But beasts still rule with iron hand,
Spreading fear across the land.
Decay, submission — reason dies.
Fascism reigns, beneath dark skies.



In Russian:

Правильные вопросы

"Можно ответить на любой вопрос, если он задан правильно".
Платон.


Правильных вопросов
Мало задают
Между лжи поноса:
Очень "знатно" лгут,

Разум убивая
И суя ответ
До вопроса, зная
Как тлетворен БРЕД.

Бредом оглупленье —
Мировой Дурдом.
С каждым поколеньем
Он тупей. Скотом

Сделать всех мечтают —
Ярый геноцид.
В Мраке не лажают,
В том пример говнид,

Только те, что сами
И на свой вопрос
Отвечают. Нами
Нелюдь правит. Рост

Страхов, подчиненья —
Разум резко вниз.
ТВАРИ. Разложенье.
Мировой фашизм.

In the Desert

Stand strong through trials, strain, and sorrow,
Leave fears behind—no more to borrow.
The path is harsh, the climb severe,
Yet on the peak, the sky shines clear.

To reach is hard—to rise is harder,
Mere will alone won’t make you farther.
But vision’s flight, the spark of knowing,
UNTAMED DESIRE, ever growing—

They’ll guide you if you hear your spirit,
Not hollow whispers—don’t adhere it!
The desert winds may howl, deceive,
But see the truth—and rise, believe!



---------------------



Entropy

No true talent stays unshaken
Where the ****** shadows creep—
Mediocrity is vacant,
Yet it pulls the strong ones deep.

But no sorrow—keep your distance,
That’s the only way to stand!
Else decay will claim existence—
Entropy’s relentless hand.



---------------------



Writers and Poets in a World Gone Mad

A wall of words won’t shield or sever
From MADNESS creeping in the seams.
It eats away—it gnaws forever,
Till talent drowns in broken dreams.

Yet there’s no escape or turning,
Give in—and all will rot away.
If you feed the world’s mad yearning,
You will sink in blind decay.

So build your wall with words unbending,
Layered high, three rows in line.
Every year, the strain’s unending,
For the world is steeped in Strife.

BEASTS are culling fools in masses,
Showed it clear in "CowID" rites.
War and terror—sickening flashes,
Drowning all in waves of Blight.

But hold on—just wait a minute,
Soon the storm will tear apart.
With the crash, the world will finish—
FASCISM FALLS, devoid of heart.



---------------------



Beyond the Quotes

I cast beyond the quotes and traces
All that truly matters most,
Breaking habits, scorning faces—
Such a choice will bear its cost.

Hey, O energy, ignite me!
Let me burn with fearless light,
Till the flames consume me brightly,
Flaring fiercely into night!



---------------------



Not My Path...

Step by step—
You'll lose your way.
Forget the path—
Break free, don’t stay!

Behold the Flight—
It dwells inside.
But fools march blind
To Hell with pride.



---------------------



The Use of "Revolutionaries" Clearly and In the Shadows

Che Guevara won’t remain empty,
If the plan’s a fool’s game,
Carried out like a simple plenty—
It’s not a gift, it’s not the same.

To tear the world apart in pieces,
Drowning all in blood and cries,
Promising false joy to the weak ones,
Blaming all the pain on lies—
The plan is simple: split and tear,
And scream "Forward" through despair,
Leading souls to hell’s own pit—
That’s the script for fools to fit...



---------------------



There’s No "Mystery of the World!"

It’s bleak, insane, repulsive, and vile…
A half-wit world—what mystery in this trial?!
When you break the nonsense they’ve forced on your mind,
Skeletons in closets are easy to find.

The master of the cupboard’s “solid and grand,”
But vain, cowardly, corrupt in his hand.
In this ****** world, the wise don’t last long—
The honest, the brave, the true, and the strong.

Yet ruling the world, unseen, a cruel beast—
The politician’s a clown, his minions the least.
Total lies cover all this deceit—
The masses can’t see the truth beneath.

The cause is clear—ignorance reigns supreme:
"Religion," "school," "science"—the world’s cruel dream.
Corruption has reached its ultimate height:
CowID and war sunk the world out of sight.

What’s left to do? Seek the truth within,
Reject all their teachings, their "wisdom", their sin.
Will you find it? Unknown, but at least you’ll try…
Or remain a mad slave, and wonder why.



---------------------



The Infernal Dump

From a cosmic view, it's clear and true—
The Earth’s not threatened by Tartarus, but by the zoo.
Arthur Schopenhauer said it loud,
The trash of the world, both dark and proud.

The dump’s a given, and Tartarus
The hidden ruler, silent, thus—
It veils the truth with lies and flame,
A world of folly, blind to blame.

In minds, the filth is what we hold,
The consequences in Nature unfold.
The wise are few, and NOTHING’s strange—
Everywhere, the “norm” has changed.



---------------------



Sports Commentary

The commentator babbles on,
Repeating nonsense, all day long.
The world drowns deep in lies and fear,
While reason fades, it disappears.

A tiny breath from that same trash—
A little sip to keep it stashed.
Not "Save our souls!"—no need for shock—
The masses crave the simple flock.



---------------------



Advertising

Adverts, oh Mother, save the child from lies—
The goal’s not sales, but to warp our minds and ties.
Alongside propaganda, they stand in line,
"Education" breaking, a force so malign,
Crushing thoughts and dreams, aiming high,
The result: fools, with decay not running dry.



---------------------



Slogans

"Peace for the world"? No, "Nonsense—NO!"
To chaos, that’s the answer we show.
Peace comes when the madness fades away,
For in MADNESS, truth’s just led astray.



---------------------



Olympic Swim in ***** Water

A school swims through the Seine—
A race, a marathon.
They said "no" to cancellation,
Though the muck goes on and on.

The athlete’s strong in body, mind—
Illness means nothing to him.
The pain of sport is more refined,
Like work that wears you thin.

What’s painful here is simply this—
Only the top three are crowned.
The rest will fade into the mist,
Their struggles lost, not to be found.



---------------------



A Pamphlet on "History"

I began to read the history book,
In the editor, where lies I’d unhook,
Trying my best, day spent in despair—
A pamphlet emerged, with nothing but air.



---------------------



The Roulette of Scoundrels

The roulette of wealthy districts is clear: bet on zero,
If you’re a seasoned scoundrel—then luck’s your hero.
The world: it’s TOTAL EVIL that wins the game,
To stay wise through it all—now that’s real fame.

War and CowID have shown it so well,
The crowd is insane, and the slave’s fate is hell.
They’ve called it "freedom," but it’s all a disgrace,
With lies that are brutal, and submission to face.



---------------------



Rowing for Yourself

In this wild paradise, don’t lose your grip—
Row harder, push, don’t let it slip.
And crush the weak where bread is made,
Shove, defeat—let none invade.



---------------------



Fallen Talents

They sought "success,"
To express their mind—
But dared not confess,
To fight, not to hide.

It takes so little
For fragile talent to stay,
But to fall, a giant's
Thoughts slip away.

Here it happens often,
The question that lasts—
"How quickly you’ve risen?"
If you yield, you are passed.



---------------------



The Fool’s Endurance

The fool has pushed patience too far,
Though there was plenty, there’s a bar.
Though I’m no saint, and not so pure,
Even so, this test’s obscure...



---------------------



Countdown, or the End of "Civilization"

It’s over now—the people’s fate,
No longer third-class, but second-rate.
Forget your books, so filled with thought—
The idiot’s lost, and all for naught.

Nature rises, fierce and wild,
The sun shines brighter, more reviled,
Year by year, it grows the same—
The end of days has come to claim.

Start the countdown, slow and clear,
A year, a day—then disappear.
Each year it worsens, the end’s near,
The fool grows dull, the stump severe.

A few exceptions won’t change a thing,
Genocide through generations—this is the ring.
Triumph for the vile, the filth, the swine,
As they rise up in a twisted line.

Destroy these creatures, cast them out,
Sacrifice the slave, without a doubt.
In lies and madness, the world decays,
The madhouse crumbles, lost in the haze…



---------------------



Related Sports

Shooting at targets,
An attack on the mind,
When life’s all so shallow—
***, money, and grind.

The last sport is popular,
Time to rise and soar,
For the stubborn and proud,
Give them something more.

Records to break,
Games for their pride—
Paper tigers at stake,
If they dare to ride.



---------------------



The Poet’s "Daily Chronicle"...

"Art analysis?"—Who cares!
You can't sell such foolish wares.
Besides, they'll start to read, no doubt—
And that’s the last thing we'd want out.



--- Total 20 poems. ---

"Knowledge expands ignorance."
— Anaximenes, 6th century BCE


Deception, fraud, and misbelief
Are twisted in a mighty rope.
It's thick, though rotting underneath,
Yet minds still cling to it in hope.

The world hangs high, the Pit below—
The yawning Hell, the deadly traps.
But ignorance will grow and grow...
And when it snaps—they all collapse.

Clogged-up veins of undead hosts—
Too much poison, far and near.
Now the Dark must build new ghosts,
Mechanized—the "progress" here.

Lies, like venom, pave the way,
Plastic paths their strength will feed.
And their Horde, in grim array,
Shall consume the world with greed.


In Russian:

Зомбо-прогресс

Закуп'орка вен у зомби —
Яду слишком много днесь.
Создавать пора Тьме комби
С механизмом. "Прогресс" весь

В том и будет. Лжи отрава,
Что по пластику идти
Будет <-> сильной. Их Орава
Мир погл'отит — не спасти.

To a Poet

Breathe—while breath remains.
Write—while ink still stains.
Fears and lies surround—
Phantoms all around.
Breathe—so you may write.
Write—so you keep light.
Dying comes too fast
If you're stuck in Past.



---------------------



Soldiers

For ranks, they'll pay the price—
No problem, none at all!
The brass will count, think twice,
Yet conscience won’t recall.

So much “meat” for taking,
Do with it as you will.
The war keeps profits waking—
It never foots the bill.

The enemy? Who cares?
A neighbor suits just fine.
Brave but sold in shares—
War’s double-think design.



---------------------



Fascism and Cataclysm

As a whole, "we stand up tall,
Growing stronger day by day".
But divided, doomed to fall—
Rot in fear and false display.

No horizon, none at all—
Genocide is all we see.
We will perish, others call—
Feeding Lies and Shame’s decree.

Nature fades, it takes its toll—
Bringing doom, a final chime.
Earth won’t shelter twisted souls
Bowing down to fascist crime.



---------------------



Like the Rest!

"Be like all!"—but all are rotten,
Not the best of arguments.
Fools make jokes, yet all forgotten—
"All" have lost their common sense.

"Nothing’s real!"—but all is faking,
"Nothing’s real"—the latest brand.
Madness grips the world, remaking
Truth to dust and lies to sand.

Few escape this grand delusion,
Fleeting sparks in memory’s mist.
Shame, decay, and false inclusion—
"All" are swine that still exist...



---------------------



Sheeple-virus

CowID: the world’s a crude cartoon—
So dull, obscene, enraged, insane.
We mourn as Culture meets its doom,
Drowned out by media’s dull refrain.

Corrupt reports now rule the land,
No higher power left to see.
The few who think can barely stand—
Their blood runs cold from this disease.



--- Total 5 poems. ---

"Excessive reading is not only useless, as the reader borrows others' thoughts and absorbs them less effectively than if they had reached them independently, but also harmful to the mind, as it weakens it and accustoms it to draw ideas from external sources rather than its own head."
— Arthur Schopenhauer


The age of readers’ gone, it seems,
Though even that was far from pure.
Today the viewer reigns, and dreams
Are stolen, poisoned, insecure.

The screen spews nonsense, endless lies,
And minds forget the way to think.
From filth to soullessness, the slide’s
A step away—a deadly brink.

The digital camp's approving horde
Are numbers led by scripted schemes.
This broken world, a crownless lord:
Be outcast if you don’t share their dreams.


In Russian:

Зомбо-ТВ

"Чрезмерное чтение не только бесполезно, так как читатель в процессе чтения заимствует чужие мысли и хуже их усваивает, чем если бы додумался до них сам, но и вредно для разума, поскольку ослабляет его и приучает черпать идеи из внешних источников, а не из собственной головы".
Артур Шопенгауэр.


Пора читателей ушла,
И было в ней всё не бесспорно.
Сегодня зритель. И пошл'а
Его душонка, так как воры

Залезли в ящик, гонят чушь,
Тем разучая толпы мыслить.
От пошлости до смерти душ
Последний шаг. Не люди — числа

Одобрят Лагерь Цифровой,
Ведь пропаганда "мыслит" ими.
Мирок с пробитой головой:
Изгой ты, если не с тупыми.

"The noblest aim of art is making
The human heart still beat and burn.
And since the heart gives life its waking,
Art must to life itself return."
— Jean Guyau (poetic presentation of the statement).


A poet’s now a life restorer—
A heavy burden, hard to bear.
For hearts grow weak, their beats grow poorer,
And many die while breathing air.

Yet many climb, remain unshaken,
Still trampling heads without a care.
Save just a few—then, lost, forsaken,
You'll curse the Rotten Bedlam there.

And yet—again! Though fate is bitter,
And fame’s a game you cannot win.
They praise the fools, they praise the sinners,
For Evil spins the wheel of sin.

Composing poetry is akin to an illness, governed by its own laws. One must yield to them, enduring the fever to arrive at a result—not “health,” but a “case history.” For some, it’s a stormy affliction—casting everything into verse; for others, it’s a perpetual self-assessment: “Do I have something new to say?” There are countless variations. The key is to heed intuition, as this “illness” depends on it—unless you’re a hack. Many athletes, in maturity, regard their sports careers as a kind of ailment but still take pride in their “case history.” Poetry is a super-sport, with far finer gradations of mastery than ordinary athletics.


A fever’s blazing heat—
And verses start to flow.
With burning eyes, they greet
The world. Fools never know

How craftless scribes will cater
To win their shallow praise:
The more the lines seem later,
The louder is the craze.

A simpleton might linger,
Entranced, yet blind to grace.
An artist lifts his finger
And laughs at their embrace.

Trust only intuition;
It guides with steady hand.
Ignore all old tradition—
It helps you understand.

Your “history of illness”
A future soul may find.
But if you seek vain stillness,
Your worth is left behind.


In Russian:

Болезнь поэзии

К созданию стихов надо относиться как к своего рода болезни, а она протекает по своим законам, и им просто надо следовать, чтобы переболев, получить некий итог - не "здоровь"», а "историю болезни". У некоторых она протекает бурно — облекать всё в стихи, у некоторых с постоянной оценкой своего состояния — "могу ли что-то новое сказать?" Вариаций много. Главное, слушать свою интуицию, так как эта "болезнь" имеет с ней определяющие отношения, если ты не графоман. Многие спортсмены в зрелом возрасте воспринимают свои занятия спортом как болезнь, но всё же гордятся своей "историей болезни". Стихосложение — супер-спорт с гораздо большей градацией мастерства, чем в обычном спорте.


Тяжёлая горячка —
Как пот в ней прут стихи.
Они подобным — ЗРЯЧИМ.
Оценят дураки

Лишь графоманство — это
Под них подстроит стих:
Чем больше в виршах бреда,
Тем ты "полезней". "Псих"

Болеет тяжко, "умный"
Хворает лишь слегка.
Не будь в твореньях скромным:
На дурней свысока

Смотря, лишь интуиции
Служи — она ведёт,
Похерив все традиции,
К итогу. И найдёт

"Историю болезни"
Потомок, коль ты смел.
А хочешь быть "полезней" —
Утиль твой злой удел.

Tightening the Screws

The screws turn tighter every day,
Yet they still lie—it’s freedom’s way.
And if the threads begin to break,
They'll simply say, "Tough luck, to take."



---------------------



A Fool Will Dig Your Grave

A fool will drive you to the grave,
No space for tests—none left to save.
And thanks to them, this world’s a mess,
A sinking ship in deep distress.



---------------------



Panda. The Leaf-Chewing Crew

A panda gang, a munching horde,
Left nothing standing—none restored.
Those from the North, the brownish kind,
Dragged all culture far behind,

Devoured it all. And fools, you see,
Are still called "the people"—free.
They graze, endure, believe the lie—
On scraps they feed, and think they’ll thrive.



---------------------



Wishing Them Success? What a Jest!

Wishing **** success? What a jest!
A fearless man, upright and blessed,
Won’t stand with them, won’t play their game—
Unless he joins their rotten chain.

Alone, he’ll never break the wall,
His strength will shatter, lose it all.
For everywhere that you may go,
The iron-hearted run the show.



---------------------



Ukraine Will Win

Ukraine will win—have no doubt,
The stench of rashism is fading out.
With "glorious past" and "rising tall,"
That filth can’t reach success at all.



---------------------



A "Miracle" Song? Not Quite That Strong

A “miracle” song—what a claim,
Yet poetry’s barely the heart of the game.
The music comes first, as they try to enchant,
Luring the crowd with a cheap, hollow chant.

The lyrics, once artful, now turn into jokes,
A parody drowned in the trash for the folks.
What once held meaning is lost in the beat—
Dumbed down to keep the masses on heat.



---------------------



Cupid’s Aim

When Cupid strikes, his arrow flies,
And reason fades before your eyes.
Love’s old law—no way to pass:
You’ll end up as a foolish ***.



---------------------



TV Trash Bin

Their TV tales are bold and bright—
A paradise is soon in sight!
Yet all they do is flush the minds
Of fools who fall for empty lines.

They pour their lies straight in your ears,
Call **** "divine" to mask your fears.
Their goal is clear—your soul to break,
For weak minds bend when thoughts misplace.



---------------------



Liposuction of the Mind

Liposuction of the mind’s a dream—
A cure that's nowhere to be seen.
In fascist filth, through lies we’ve strayed,
Now lost in what they’ve falsely made.

We need to drain the evil fat,
From minds where wicked thoughts are at.
Without it, Earth will soon be lost,
Under the Goat’s oppressive cost.



---------------------



Do you control your phone, my friend,
Or does it lead you to the end?
You’ll face addiction, it’s a fact,
As it pulls at your mind, intact.



---------------------



The Bomber Brings Peace

The bomber brings peace from the skies—
On barren land, no discord lies.
The world’s a target, clear and wide,
Where a sharp shot will turn the tide.



---------------------



Faith in “God” is part of game,
Fake science too, just the same.
The spirit’s voice has been suppressed,
For the system’s rule is a beast’s quest.



---------------------



Hard to Learn – but Easy Dying

To learn is hard—the words are burning,
Their goal—the LAST AND FINAL FIGHT.
Yet every age keeps blindfold yearning,
Believing "leaders" show the light.

But he who leads—the Lord of Sorrow,
He thrives on torment, death, and pain.
The lie conceals a dark tomorrow,
And thus, its value must remain.

For BEASTS who feed on death and slaughters,
No reason matters—just the feast.
A little falsehood, tripled orders,
And DEAD SOULS march to **** the "beast."



---------------------



Kinda "Success"

Our fool is drained, his strength is gone,
Just waiting for "success" to shine.
So many crave it—yet it's won
By those who trade their soul and mind.

If you won’t sell—your odds are thin,
To "rise" is near impossible.
You won’t achieve a single thing
If truth makes even friends feel ill.

But vent the steam, don't stir up hate,
Let sarcasm be mild and neat.
Just nudge a bit—don’t agitate,
Forget decay and blind deceit.

Then, maybe, crowds will grant you fame.
Decadence? Sure, but stay in line.
Don’t dare to shout, "The world's insane!"—
And fate might toss you a few dimes.



---------------------



Open Wide the Faithful Gate

Bow and pray—don’t hesitate,
Worship now, before it’s late.
God is gone—since time’s creation,
Only demons rule the nation.

Is the world a wretched mess?
Satan’s work—no more, no less.
Still, you trust the priest’s decree,
Scholars’ tales—deceptive, free.

Are they lying for the Lord,
Or does Satan pull the cord?
Doubt is dead, no questions rise,
Gutless minds make sheep of lives...



---------------------



Literary "Ghosts"

Dumas had "ghosts"—a silent crew,
He wrote a lot, and so they drew.
The habit spread through every nation,
A thriving trade—pure exploitation.

Some "authors" steal with no regret,
Their finest lines were never penned.
Yet ghostwork yields no true perfection—
Just one more fraud in all directions.



---------------------



Hellish Bliss, or Flush 'Em Down

The fools’ own paradise stands tall—
It’s long been thriving.
Just few remain—mere men and all—
Where LIES are grinding.

They call it "God’s great world," you see,
A joke, for certain.
So go and flush them down with glee—
No rules, no burden.

A noble citizen you’ll be—
A pawn for scoundrels.
You’ll live till gray, but never free—
Among the HUNGRY.

For heads in heaven serve one call—
To chew and swallow.
And if you stand against them all—
Life pays you hollow.



---------------------



A New Strategy

Knock the tumbler, make it sway,
Shift its center—watch it fall!
"Simpleton" now sees the way,
What a breakthrough—best of all!

Tumbling dolls are everywhere,
Strength in numbers, dumb but loud.
Yet they’re built beyond repair,
Meant for wars of times long past.

But today, the fools hold might—
Crush their lies, don’t let them stand!
Tilt their balance, shift their fight—
End the slaughter, break their plan.



---------------------



The Hard Question of Reason

A fur-clad beast or mind that’s free?
Fake "science" spreads like leprosy.
Pavlov’s dogs are all around—
Two-legged ones, so well dumbed down.

Through deceit, they’ve reached the pit,
Yet they thrived and cashed on it.
Call the herd "a thinking nation"—
BEASTS require such persuasion.

Say "progress"—reason fades away,
And soon no mind will see the day.
That truth was clear with CowID’s game,
Where fools embraced their chains of shame.

A digital camp is on the rise,
The rats build walls, control the skies.
"AI" will serve the mindless masses—
Their final gift—before it crashes.



---------------------



"A-Grade" Preachers

The "honored" fools, so dull, so bleak,
Still teach us how to think and speak.
It would be kinder, truth be told,
To end them quick—just break the mold.

The more they breed, the worse they get,
No talent, just the same regret.
And fighting fools is growing tough—
Deception’s grip is strong enough.

Now lies are all the world can hear,
And reason fades—it disappears.
With every blow, the madness grows,
Till thought itself is laid to close…



---------------------



No to a World Gone Mad!

Not all thoughts are truly yours—
Lies hang heavy in the air.
Drowned in falsehood, lost in wars,
Reason gasps but finds no care.

Little left that’s truly real,
Madness spreads—a beast unfed.
Saying "no" takes iron will,
Truth is crushed by waves of dread.

No to tyrants, no to chains!
Shame to those who bow and serve!
Crying "no!" still hope remains—
NO—to Rot and Rule Absurd!



---------------------



The Sheepish World

Deceit and fear, betrayals, lies,
Corruption, darkness—filth unfurled.
Sheep stand in pens, with empty eyes,
Then march to slaughter, by command.

Just plant the myth of "freedom" deep,
And flocks will never break their chain.
But few refuse to be like sheep—
Their very presence sparks disdain.

And fewer still can stand the fight,
Defying all, they face the curse.
Like rare birds lost in endless night,
You'll find them where the world is worse.



---------------------



Fading into Summer

We drift into the endless fade,
Slaves to delusion, bound by fear.
No other fate for us is made—
The path we walk is crystal clear.



---------------------



The Measure of "Faith"

Faith is nothing but the leash,
The rest is nonsense, lies, and speech.
Your mind is lost in myths so blind—
Cast off the noise that clouds your mind!

Awaken instinct, trust your way,
The climb is hard, but don’t delay:
It’s not a heaven you will find,
But clarity, a sharpened mind.



---------------------



Absurdity

To the Moon they "fly" like wonders,
Spreading "plagues", the world’s unclean...
Is it just some minor blunders?
CowID showed the rot within.

Cargo-leaders drive the cattle,
Fools to slaughter, blind, betrayed.
Drowned in darkness, lost in battle,
Is the world beyond dismay?

Are there hopes for new ascension,
Or is madness all we see?
Will catastrophe’s dissension
Set the rotten spirit free?

Few oppose—their will unbroken,
Standing firm against decay.
They are few, yet not forsaken.
Not forsaken—till the day...



---------------------



The Sickle and the Stone

The clash of steel and stone grows weaker,
For stones are vanishing each day.
And when the last is gone, the reapers
Will sweep the fields without delay.

They’ll place that stone in halls of glory—
The toil will end, the fight be done.
But stand your ground, though hard and lonely,
And never yield to anyone.



---------------------



To Fly Is Simple

To soar the skies—what’s there to master?
A mole might take to flight one day,
And digging deep, yet learning faster,
It’ll forge ahead its way.

Beasts would strive with zeal unshaken
To end their evolution’s run.
But fools, by ancient filth forsaken,
Still dream Nirvana can be won.

The wise will rise and leave behind them
This madhouse, doomed to crash and burn.
Yet those who dwell where chains still bind them—
Their reckoning will come in turn.

This world’s an asylum, lost and broken,
Too many madmen, few who see.
So rise—if freedom is your token,
And fear no "god’s harsh penalty".



--- Total 27 poems. ---

Factory forging: fools in the press!
Dummies are ready—Chief Devil’s impressed.



---------------------



******* and masons

Masons plot? That’s just illusion —
We "elect" our kings in play.
Fools believe in grand delusions —
Masons love it all the way.



---------------------



Trusting lies,
Dreaming bread,
Kills the soul
In Hell’s dread.



---------------------



****** was nurtured—his path was clear.
What was his sentence for rebel cheer?
Five short years!

Served just nine months, then walked out free.
Treason means death—but they still believe
"He rose alone!"



---------------------



A clown in power?
No—inhuman!
Charmed by nonsense,
Fooled by ruin:
Lies spread softly, minds grow weak,
Seven in eight—too blind to see.



---------------------



Foolishness keeps rising,
Higher every day.
Homeland lost—demising,
Burns in Hell’s decay:
Shortage feeds the flames.



---------------------



All chase the gold, they heed its calling—
One law remains, none dare protest.
Who stands against it? None are rising,
But those who hear the light suppressed.

Yet there’s a meaning—soul’s salvation
Amidst the chains of earthly wrongs.
And if you do not fall to darkness,
Then you're a outcast among the throngs.



---------------------



Sheep obey the same old lies:
"Bow to darkness, trust its way!"
World’s a rot that never dies,
Mixed with filth and foul decay.



---------------------



Kinder Surprise

Mom is fooled, dad’s full of rage,
That’s the life we idolize.
Wrap it up and call it fate—
One big, wicked Dark Surprise.



---------------------



Earthly Life

"A curse from the skies?"
No, demons rule here.
Hell carves with fire
Those fallen in fear...



--- Total 10 poems. ---

City Mirage

Is it city,
Or just haze?
Clouds of pity,
Mindless maze.

Rulers — vile,
And the "crowd" —
Lost in guile,
Wild and loud.



---------------------



Pseudo-Science

From lower minds, their twisted lore,
False sciences are born and bred.
While mystics dare to seek for more,
Blind servants bow to gold instead.

Who pays commands what must be sought,
Corrupting truth to fit his reign.
And Satan’s ranks march on, self-taught,
Proclaiming thought is man's domain.

Intuition—cast aside,
Locked in the cellar, deemed a sham.
But Spirit leads where truths reside—
Too high for fools to understand.



---------------------



Awakening

No fear, no lies shall cloud your sight,
No fleeting rage, no hollow schemes,
Once you reject the twisted blight
Of beasts who trade in broken dreams.

Awakening brings life anew,
Where Spirit reigns, unchained, supreme.
The lost one stays among the crew
That serves the dark in lifeless dream.

The world is drenched in Satan’s lore—
Seek answers deep within your soul.
False "isms" lead you from the shore;
Believe their tales—accept the toll.



---------------------



Overthrowing the Chains

Rebels rise—no mere disguise,
Living free among the chained.
Yet the strong who break the ties
Make the system fall, unfeigned.

Lies corrupt and spread like mold,
Slaves obey without a doubt.
Denying chains—so blindly bold,
A fool’s belief to flout.



---------------------



Guru "Yo-Yo"—Titan of Tube

A YouTube titan, "Yo-Yo" sage,
TV-born, his wisdom spreads.
Fools grow duller, stage by stage—
Doom is looming, count the heads.



---------------------



Drowned in Slime

Fear and filth—piled high, obscene,
Yet they call it “righteous way.”
Truth is lost in lies unseen,
Evil clings like black decay.

Slime in droplets—weak, unwise,
But as one—it hardens strong.
Slugs are people in disguise,
While the vile deceiver rules along.



---------------------



Pass On—Just Pass By!

Pass on—just pass by!
Through the years, move along.
Nothing’s here—don’t rely,
Only herds without thought.

Don’t seek the rare mind,
Chance is fleeting, too weak.
If you're stuck, never whine—
Seems your mind chose to sleep.



---------------------



Armagedoom

Soon the world will be erased—
Cleansed at last in searing flame.
Rot and ruin are embraced,
Only fire ends the game.

Ash will settle, cold and dry,
Lifeless wasteland, still and bare.
Yet it won’t be gone for long—
Bullets never fade to air.



---------------------



Grab and Never Let Go!

Grab and never let go!
Feed them lies—make it flow!
Beasts will thrive in delight,
Let the rest fade from sight...



---------------------



Lament for the Internet

A swarm of fools keeps spewing lies,
Drowning thought in endless haze.
Filth and madness flood the skies,
Trapping minds in twisted maze.

Truth is lost beneath the tide,
Buried deep in rotting waste.
Frauds and vermin march with pride,
Spewing falsehoods in a haste.

Fools obey a liar’s hand,
Fortress built on filth and fraud.
CowID and war sweep through the land—
Don't just weep—howl to God!



--- Total 10 poems. ---

You look in a book and you see a fig

You read a book—yet find a fig,
For that’s the game, the oldest trick.
Not just years, but ages long,
Censorship has ruled what's wrong.

Darkness won’t let truth shine bright,
Blinding minds to **** the light.
So for ages, pen to drawer—
Freedom crushed by those in power.

Fear breeds self-censorship still,
Wounds the arts far worse than will.
And of all who bow and kneel,
Literature leads the zeal.

Thus, it feeds the beast’s demand,
Molded by a wicked hand.
Eat the fig—what’s left for you?
Just a fruit that’s rotten through.



---------------------



You're your own critic

No "literary scene" in sight,
So cast your doubts and serve what's true—
Let Honor be your guiding light,
Let Reason be the judge in you.

Your critic, prize, and voice—you own,
Your reader and your harshest foe.
In art alone is peace well known,
Please crowds, betray yourself—sink low.



---------------------



Asymptomatic sheep virus and another hippopotamus clap

Symptom-free, we’ll all get sick—
Swallow lies and learn the trick.
Dare not fight, just nod and stay,
Bleating in the pen each day.

Beasts will jab us, drown in fear,
Dumb the minds and souls we bear.
Poisoned news and terror spread,
Truth is lost, just fear instead.

From the pen into the camp,
Where the cross and flag are stamped—
Marks of "care" from soulless hands,
Crushing what was once the land.

Whips of darkness strike us fast,
Drink up now—who knows how long we last?
TV sludge will dull the mind,
"Ours are right," and so we’re blind.



---------------------



Forced and joyless—won’t achieve,
That’s how fools themselves deceive.
Twisting nature, they betray,
Losing all along the way.

Pain and joy must intertwine—
That’s what makes creation shine.
Fools bring filth and crude excess,
Talent weaves pure wondrousness.



---------------------



A chain on your neck—just a link cut short,
Yet still the same old slavish sort.
A symbol dressed to look refined,
But slaves stay slaves, just more designed.



---------------------



A tie’s the mark of slaves in chains,
Yet fools don’t see—it's all in gains.
Their "thoughts," desires, every goal—
All consumed by rot and dole.



---------------------



I'm leaving for Burkina Faso,
For here it's all just rot and hassle.
The filth has spread, the fools have won,
I’ve had enough—it's time to run.

I’d rather live with crocs and lions,
At least they’re true, without the lying.
But fools are worse, their swarms will smother,
And crush us all to praise another.

The beasts "care"—a twisted fable,
With poison shots at every table.
They stir up wars, they spread the lies,
Feed fear until all reason dies.

And so remains just rot and grime,
A mindless swamp, a wasted time.



---------------------



Rise up and think! The truth is twisted,
Not as the Beasts of Evil claim.
The world’s a mess—how unrealistic!
A test for those who bow in shame.

But don’t be one! Let spirit guide you,
And raise it to the highest tier.
Resist the dark, let courage drive you,
Or live a life of lies and fear.



---------------------



Where are critics, lost in lies,
Drowning deep in mad disguise?
Worshipping old Shakespeare’s name,
Driving Lear to endless shame?



---------------------



Religious crap – it’s always hot,
A tool to keep the slaves in spot.
They preach their "grace" to keep control,
To chain the body, bind the soul.



--- Total 10 poems. ---

The mad Samsara wheel is turning,
Corrupting souls without a clue.
Crushed and torn, yet none are learning—
Fed with lies disguised as truth.

"Lessons gained," they chant, deceiving—
Hell is all they truly find.
Like lost children, left to grieving,
Thrown to wolves and raised to blind.


In Russian:

Колесование

Колесо Самсары психов
Закрутило: не поймут —
Колесуют Души лихо,
Но с три короба наврут

Про какой-то "опыт"... В Аде?!
Всё равно что поместить
Детей малых в зоосаде,
Где по волчьи станут выть...

Don’t push your mind beyond its measure—
This Path of Thought brings little pleasure.
So many lost their way in blindness,
Trapped in the loops of their own mindness.

But Insight lifts you, clear and bright—
It lies above the mind, in sight
Of heart and soul. Let Spirit guide—
With horse and rider well allied.

Like a nuclear inferno,
Evil chokes the Earth in chains.
Monstrous rulers reign in sorrow,
Turning crowds to mindless brains.

Lies, like poison, slowly creeping,
Rotting souls with every breath—
Masks of silence, downward sweeping,
Drag them to the pit of death.

Torn from reason, bound and broken,
Falling fast like soulless sheep.
Tyrants—madness now outspoken—
Know their rule will never keep.

For the End is swiftly nearing,
Bringing doom upon their scheme.
Chaos strikes—a fate unyielding—
Crushing lies, decay, and dreams.

The Mouse Psychology

Hear a lot,
See but rarely.
Stay in silence,
Hate unfairly.

Scorn the closest,
Yet adore
Those whose madness
Fuels the war.

Praise and follow,
Kneel and swallow,
Never dare to
Call a traitor—
Not a parrot,
Not a monkey—
Madness always ends in payment...



---------------------



The Cuckoo Lost Its Mind

The cuckoo snapped and chimed away,
Few years for worlds that rot and sway.
Around—fanatics, fools, deceit,
Save your Soul before defeat!

Not with false faith, but knowledge bright—
Though in a world of fascist blight,
They call it "memory" instead,
To crush young Reason till it's dead.

So guard your mind—don’t let it break,
Don’t play it nice with soulless snakes.
Stand up, seek truth, don’t just obey—
It lives inside, not in their fray.



---------------------



Pain and Scorn

Poets hold no grand solutions,
Only pain—so let it spread.
They may mock your contribution,
Let them sow their lies instead.

Seeds of evil, sown in treason,
Will take root and rise in time.
Truth must fight—it needs no reason,
Crushing lies is toil, not crime.

Pain’s the fuel, pain’s the fire,
Use it, shape it—make your way.
Demons march at fate’s desire,
Turning "paradise" to gray.

Would you walk with those so hollow?
Doubt it—so embrace the sting.
Poets, gods, and pain—they follow
None but truth—let beggars cling!



---------------------



Approval for Anything

Never stand in strong objection,
What they tell you—nod along.
Twists and turns in each direction,
Power slithers, sly and strong.

Yesterday was "No!"—forget it,
Now it's "Yes!" without a doubt.
Fools will cheer and just accept it,
Blind approval wins throughout.

Say a word—they'll bite and sting you,
That’s the way the game is played.
Yet they’ll bribe you, too, to bring you—
Serpents always find their way.



---------------------



Mixed Relays and Other "Equal-Gender" Madness

They mix the relays, races, guns,
A world where gender blurs and runs.
And soon they'll lie in pairs to rest—
For "equality" is best.

Not raised in strength, but dragged to dirt,
It’s easier to rule the hurt.
They preach "fair play," yet all the same,
Obedient sheep are clipped and tamed.

They care not for the "equal right"—
Their minds are wrecked, their souls are slight.
With fear and filth, they drag it low—
The world decays with every show.

They've tested this in CowID,
And found how easily you plead.
How few resist, how many bow—
The crawling mass obeys somehow.

Submission walks with madness near,
Two rails—one track that leads to fear.
And when the fools embrace the lie,
How few remain who don’t comply.



---------------------



The Poet’s Problem

With no life lived, they dared to write,
Their lines—just fluff for youth’s delight.
"Love" without chains, blind praise of lands…
It’s time to see, to understand!

This world is Hell, decay runs deep,
No time for odes—just wake the sheep!
No whispered songs, no gentle art—
Strike hard with verse, tear lies apart!



---------------------



Sports in the Age of the Sheep-Virus

Empty stands, a masked-up face,
Shots enforced—insane embrace.
Dystopia? No, just today,
Where tyrants rule and minds decay.

Fascism spreads across the lands,
Beastly power in their hands.
More to come—don’t be so sure,
Faith now fades, control is pure.



---------------------



No Problems at All

A poet’s world knows no distress
When all around is pure unrest.
Though marked for shots in this grim mess,
He speaks—he will not share their rest.

He speaks—while others call it fate,
Their little troubles fade away.
Yet he won’t march with fools who wait,
He walks alone—his own true way.



---------------------



Medieval Ways of the Paris Olympics

Three strikes of the staff—
Sheep, onward, march!
Through water, through path,
Race to the arch.

The prize is set—
"The finest sheep!"
Strain and sweat,
The end runs deep.

A rider storms,
The Seine runs red—
Who’ll take their forms
When sheep are shed?..



---------------------



Vegetable Farming

The harvest swells, the crops arise—
But stay alert, don’t close your eyes!
What if one bold Cipollino
Sparks a riot in the feeble?

Labeled **** and cast aside,
Drowned in nonsense, justified.
Keeps the cycle nice and clean,
Rotting deep—but all unseen.

Through the ages, through decay,
This "fertilizer" paves the way.
Call it harvest, praise the lie—
Let the veggies dream of "sky"!



---------------------



Innovations in Track and Field, and Beyond

The races lost—"humanity"
Reaches its final plea!
Caught in stupidity,
The law is hard to see.

The total chaos, endless,
Is tough to even spot.
For now, no criminal—
Just puppets in their plot.

They speak, but no one listens,
Their "humanism" a lie.
With those who bow to sinners,
The beasts will watch them die.



---------------------



The Pitiful "Publishers"

A poet’s book, once prized and bright,
Now just a fee to fill the pike.
So much nonsense, so much trash,
In a world where dreams all crash!

Poets are poor when truth they seek,
Lost in the dark, the future bleak.
Forget your boast, don’t play the fool—
They’ll push us down and drown us cruel.

Soon we’ll sink in propaganda,
As oceans rise and drown the land.
That "publisher"—just another pawn,
In a gang that sweeps all light gone.



---------------------



"Gender Equality"...

But they are not the same!
Fools are multiplied
By this toxic flame…



---------------------



The Beast Crawls Through the Screen

The beast crawls through the screen—
A sheep believes in "history" obscene.
And further still, it’s clear to see—
The death of FREEDOM’s mind will be.



---------------------



Preparing Vegetables

Archery’s new star, Cipollino,
A fool now—just another hero.
A simple VEGETABLE, he stares,
Believes in madness, opens lairs.

This is how they make a Salad—
A world of minds so dim and pallid.
Inject the poison, send them to fight,
Only VEGETABLES deserve the night.



---------------------



Suffocation by "Cares"

No need for "cares" or efforts grand,
To "improve"—a sheep’s life, dull and bland.
What they showed us in the time of CowID—
The bought and sold will bleat and heed.



---------------------



The "Employment" Medal

Listen close, and you will find,
A reward of the simplest kind:
"Give the fools more work to do!"
That’s the medal given to you.



---------------------



The Horseman of the Apocalypse at the Paris Olympics Opening

The strongest... fool, indeed:
Games to please the "crowd's" greed!
The beastly Horse he did display—
But may this madness fade away.
They still believe, as always done,
In what the masters say is "won."
The flag he bears, it’s all a joke—
Turned upside down—yet none will choke,
For what is wrong, they won’t see clear—
It’s just a "mistake," they cheer and jeer.
The world’s gone mad in this decay,
The fool’s the sport, it’s here to stay.
But the fool, so strong and tough,
Will run and fight—just can't get enough.
And soon enough, he'll race his way—
Straight to Hell, where fools will stay...



---------------------



Modern Cain and Abel

Cain’s the master, Abel’s slave,
The world’s grown weak, the spirit’s grave.
Mind’s a wreck, a shattered glass,
But who cares? Just stack the cash!



---------------------



Branded Cattle

Branded stock—
A world of fools to walk.
Where to go?
From here, just let it go...



--- Total 20 poems. ---

A noose drawn tight—
Lies smother all.
Mind fades from sight...
Inhuman rule,
The people fall.

------------

A noose is tight —
Lies choke the air.
All fades from sight...
Dark rules ensnare.

At Full Speed...

A machine of sweat and grinding,
A diseased and toxic sphere,
Where the blind and mute are writhing,
Only ******* rule in here.

Not real lords—just slaves in hiding,
Licking boots to keep their place.
Hellish cogs—no guiding, no deciding,
Fools serve blindly in disgrace.

Like mere cattle, men are kneeling,
Hoping "lords" will bring them light,
While the dream of change is fleeting,
Crushed beneath the wheels of might.

Few escape—their ranks diminish,
Fewer left to stand and fight,
As new waves of fools replenish,
Breeding madness day and night.

Freaks, dimwits, psychotic wreckage—
Forms of ruin, doomed and vexed.
Not for long, though—crash and wreckage,
Armageddon’s racing next.



---------------------



Hear and Believe...

Hear it—trust it. Blind devotion.
Thinking hurts—so why insist?
Open doors without a notion
For the brazen egotist.

He will set the facts in order,
Twist the truth to fit his line.
And if scholars serve as warders,
Fools will bow—“They must be right!”

Like a gambler, slyly dealing,
He reshapes what once was real.
Dark magician, false revealing,
Masters lies with polished skill.

Screens will show the grand illusion,
Staged to dazzle, stir, ignite,
Hiding hell in bright profusion,
Flags ablaze in crimson light.

Crowds of puppets, dumb and fervent,
March to battle or to toil.
Empty labor, pointless purpose—
But as long as there's some spoil,
Idiots will lap the poison,
Sing their hymns and stand in line.
Thought is dead—once minds are frozen,
Rulers strengthen by design.



---------------------



Slave Mentality

Judge no evil, just forgive it,
Call your shackles "life" instead.
Teach your children how to live it—
Turn their souls to slime and dread.

Centuries of tyrant ruling,
Rot and filth—no shame to see.
Blind submission, crude and drooling,
That’s a slave’s philosophy.

Sacred laws will ban derision,
Preach submission, hush the doubt.
Judas reigns—it’s called “decision,”
“Fate” is how they spell it out.

“God’s own slave”... but scriptures reek of
Satan’s mark in every thread.
That is why, with fascists’ bleak love,
Priests stand smiling, cloaked in red.

Man’s no more than Hell’s dumb minion,
Servant to the cloven beast.
Heaven’s gate—no grand dominion,
Just a test of pain increased.



---------------------



Against Nature...

But nature’s laws are strong and ruthless,
No “human rules” can stand their test.
Yet mankind fights—a war so fruitless,
And soon the flames will do the rest.

The sun burns hotter, magma rumbles,
Cracks are spreading through the crust.
But “kings” still hide in dreams that crumble,
Hoping holes will shield their dust.

They’ve built their burrows deep and sprawling,
Whole cities lurk beneath the land.
But conscience lost to greed enthralling
Won’t grant them safety as they planned.

No vault will save them—no exemption,
For all will face the final call.
And nature’s wrath grants no redemption—
You cannot turn the world to thrall.



---------------------



The Price of Truth

The price of truth is steep and grim—
Your very life’s the cost to pay.
As children, blinded, we grow dim,
Trapped in the slime of foul decay.

It wraps us tight—no space to run,
And home’s no haven from the lies.
The world, in sum, is mad, undone—
A madhouse ruled by wicked ties.

Yet if you stand, refuse to kneel,
And guard the truth with all you’ve got,
You’ll find its presence, strong and real—
An oasis in a wasteland hot.

An oasis—meaning starved and weak,
Alone, yet pushing through the strain.
While scorching winds from all sides shriek—
The stench of lies, corrupt and plain.

Slime and storm—this verse may weave
In metaphors both sharp and wild.
But should you fall, submit, and leave,
The truth will call another child.



--- Total 5 poems. ---

Cannon Fodder

Cannons hungered for some meat –
Fools were marched into the heat.
Such a tale brings little cheer,
Madness reigns both far and near.

Fascism shifts its mask and guise,
Yet remains as vile as lies.
But the end is drawing near –
Armageddon’s almost here.



---------------------



Feasting on lies –
Poison spread.
Fools have swallowed
Brains go dead...



---------------------



Phantasmagoria of Extinction

Like a gosling, lost and weak,
Baby mammoth tries to seek
Mom and dad—but all in vain,
Doomed to vanish, born in chains.

Leave your ancestors behind,
All their "wisdom"—never mind.
Truth is buried, hard to find
In the filth that clouds your mind.



---------------------



Market Crash on the Soul Exchange

Hey, the market's shifting fast –
Psyche's price won’t long outlast.
Sell yourself without delay –
Dumping drives the cost away.

Souls are cheap, no mind required,
Crowds by media inspired.
Through their voices, camps arise –
Digital in their disguise.

On white flags, red crosses shine,
“Care” is preached in every line.
Yet the fiends who stage this show
Dream of herds that kneel and bow.



---------------------



Verbal Diarrhea of Propaganda

Brains get washed—what a catch!
Evil’s tricks still hold their patch:
If not Lenin, Christ appears—
Endless flood of hollow fears.

Schools will gladly aid the mission:
Preach that chains are just tradition,
Push the “greatest” of ideals—
Turn you into slave for real.

Chains can break, but not the lies,
For the fools will idolize
Every wretched, vile disguise
That their masters advertise.

Like a lifeline, they embrace
All the bile their rulers praise.
Sickened minds, corrupted view—
Now the world’s a "Soviet" too.

Once they jailed the sane in wards
For rejecting Party’s chords.
Now the flood runs even wider,
Drowns the world in filth and cider.

Modern media surpassed
Every scheme of tyrants past,
Even Goebbels looks in wonder
As they pull the masses under.

Fools and traitors lead the race,
Forming crowds of slaves, disgraced.
Demons steer them, dragging low—
Drop the filth, let lies all go!



---------------------



Closing Ceremony of the Paris Games

Devils and zombies, end of days,
After the rings, they’ll claim their praise.
A celebration of dark rites—
Beasts will feast in satan's sights.



---------------------



Out of the Crowd

"Run among the still, stand with the fast!"
— Confucius.

The crowd knows not where they are going,
No pause to see what’s truly flowing.
Their “wisdom” bound by rot and ruin,
To be with them’s to be undone.

Where do they run? To "success" they race,
Past stops where tyrants hide their place.
Only fools can stand the game,
Where mindless joy is all the same.



---------------------



This World, a Journey from the Stupid Hell to the Sheepish Paradise

"It's not what they've made of me,
But what I’ve made of what they made of me."
— Jean-Paul Sartre

They've dulled, they've cut away
All the soul’s movements toward the Light.
Everywhere’s a Hell of dismay—
Wake up fast, and take your flight.

Heal your wounds the best you can,
Seek and learn, find your own way.
For they always lead the flock to slaughter,
Shouting "paradise" to sway.



---------------------



****** of the Mind by "Survival"

Cause and effect in this cruel game:
Life’s tough, so you’re to blame?
Or are you born a wretch by fate?
In this world, the lines are faint.

It happens both ways, here and there,
It’s not the monster, it’s despair.
Causes follow consequences,
Not for fools—who lack the senses.

There’s time, but also timelessness,
Yet nonsense drowns all mindfulness,
The fragile motions of the mind,
Lost in the Hell that’s blind, confined.

Hell’s true nature: pure survival,
Brains and souls for sacrifice—
In Hell, salvation costs your skin,
With death to Science, Culture’s end.



---------------------



"Themes" to memes,
Nonsense streams –
Fools start shaking
In their dreams!..



---------------------



Being dumb’s a tougher trade
Than the verses poets made.
You must heed the twisted minds
And absorb the rot they find.



---------------------



Quick step. — Where to? — Away from here!
I won't become a fool, I fear.
The chance is high to fall so low,
In this world, where lies will grow.



--- Total 12 poems. ---

A serenade I'll sing tonight
To please a foolish lady's sight:
In Hell, the wretched find their way—
And think they've reached a bright new day.


In Russian:

Серенады для услады
Глупой бабы я спою:
Быть убогим в Аде надо —
Будешь думать, что в раю.

Nature rejects the empty-headed –
It must be known, explored with might,
With spirit strengthened. Yet "aesthetic"
Snapped on a phone is hollow sight.

A fool finds comfort in such framing,
He’s quite adept at playing blind.
But when the Spirit starts decaying
In many – doom is close behind.

And Nature soon will bring its reaping –
It needs no worm, so weak and lost,
Led by a madman, ever preaching
Yet drowning deep in evil’s frost.



---------------------



A nerdy scholar spews his blather,
And fools believe his hollow talk.
He twists life’s essence, tears and shatters,
Defiling nature as he walks.

But Spirit rules—its light is fleeting,
Erased wherever lies take hold.
Deceit’s a chain, so tight, deceiving—
Believe the nonsense—lose your soul.



---------------------



Radical Bath

Caustic soda, scalding, searing,
Cleansing crowds with brutal cheering.
Layers thick of madness crusted
On their hides, fear-tanned and rusted.



---------------------



Worldly Woe

Just sorrow unending...
Fate’s wrath is descending:
If you do not bend,
You sink in the end.
It strangles, deceiving...
The traitors, the scheming—
They finish you fast,
A lesson amassed:
"Don’t live this way, see?"
They cheer what is cheap...
When Spirit is banished,
Corruption is lavish,
And sorrow is smothered
As Conscience is gutted.

Yet never escape it—
This WOE—lest you break and
Turn vile. So wake,
Let WOE flood your veins.
If drowned, you shall rise—
Stay True, and be wise.



---------------------



Pain

Let pain subside—
You’ll rot, deformed.
Go crawl or hide,
But not conform.

Through pain, you’ll see
Hell’s truth laid bare:
The herd’s obscene—
You will not err.

And who’s not weak?
A precious few...
Through pain, they bleed,
Their blood—like dew,

If fools are all they’re forced into...



---------------------



Emptiness

I am gone, I have left all the chatter,
All the nonsense, the meaningless fuss.
Dove in void—like a soul seeking shelter,
Like the Buddhist release from the dust.

On this path, every thought is a weapon,
Not a burden to bear or to grieve.
For the world is in FEAR THROUGH DECEPTION—
Through its lies, most are slaves to the grief.

Emptiness makes the ugliness clearer,
Brings out thoughts, lets you breathe and be free.
No more traps of delusion draw nearer,
And each meeting hurts more, you will see.

Still, I plant nothing there—no “compassion,”
No “forever,” no sweet, hollow grace.
I expose in my own bitter fashion
All the vile, all the FILTH of this place.



---------------------



Only Losing Nonsense, You'll Find Truth

Only losing, you will find.
All you've lost was empty lies.
Through the Nonsense shaped by Blind,
Through the Evil’s thin disguise.

If it meets you—step aside,
Stress will strike and twist your mind.
Lose yourself in hollow pride—
Well, you’re truly deaf and blind.



---------------------



Eat and Sleep

Eat and sleep—then dull your mind,
Drown it fast in fleeting fun.
If you wake and look behind,
Hell of Heavy Thoughts will come.



---------------------



Land of Fools

Where knowledge decays,
The servile crowd sways—
Their blind, eager course
Feeds fascism’s force.



---------------------



All Rivers Turned Back

The rivers now reverse their flow—
A fitting metaphor, no doubt,
For lies unchecked. Let falsehood grow!
No room for minds to figure out...



---------------------



Half-Childish...

Grass is growing, bright and green,
Sunlight sparkles, warm and sweet.
Yet the “people” grow obscene—
**** just lies without defeat.

Darkness feeds on fear and fools,
Spreading nonsense far and wide.
Mountains high of twisted rules,
Peaks of filth and hollow pride.

Grass is growing, sun still gleams,
Yet the Dark is taking lead.
Now the world is torn at seams—
Drenched in Boundless Shame indeed.



--- Total 11 poems. ---

Current flows, a changing force,
While Evil’s lies stay fixed in place.
They drag the world to dead remorse,
Till "nations" fade without a trace.

They march ahead, the creatures’ creed,
Disguised as kindness, pure deceit.
Corrupting hearts, they sow the seed
Of lies beneath deception’s sheet.

A chosen few see through the haze,
This shallow world, both cruel and grim.
But scorn is heaped on those who gaze,
For Satan reigns as idol dim.

Yet veiled it lies in honeyed guise,
A mix of nonsense, vile and grim.
The devil’s rule grows bold, defies —
Thus spreads fascism’s vicious hymn.

Reject the lies, forge thoughts anew,
Though stress may rise, stand firm, confess.
By doing so, you’ll save the true
And fragile soul of weightless press.

Six grams they claim, by falsehoods bound,
Yet Reason knows it holds the All.
Forsake the crowd, its wailing sound —
Find your own path, and heed the call.


In Russian:

Зомбированные

Идут навстречу ТВАРЕЙ мненья,
Что маскируются добром.
Так поколенья в разложенье
Вгоняют ложью, что под Злом.

Лишь единицы смотрят Ясно
На сей убогий глупый мир,
Но их шельмуют ежечасно,
Ведь Сатана мирка кумир.

Но скрыли то слои елея
И всякой чуши. Сатанизм
Сегодня яростней, наглее —
И потому кругом фашизм.

Отринув ложь, составь сам мненье,
Пускай с ним будет сильный стресс.
Так остановишь убиенье
Своей Души. Шесть граммов вес

Она имеет в лженауке,
А для Разумного есть ВСЁ.
Оставь хождение чрез муки —
Покинь толпу, ища СВОЁ.

What remains? Just weary sorrow.
Bear the Filth a little longer,
Feel no pity, just be stronger—
Leave for Light, forget the hollow.

Maybe Light is nowhere near—
Try to find it, don’t give in.
Would you waste your soul within
Newborn Hell of beasts austere?!

You are Phoenix — light up, burn — Create!
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT


1. Exit into the Freedom of Spirit

You break the chains, dissolve the darkened veil,
Beyond the cage where human spirits wail.
The spark ignites inside the boundless sky—
A call for souls to learn again to fly.


2. Birth of the Wind

The breath of cosmos stirs the silent night,
Invisible hands weave threads of light.
From chaos born, the winds begin to dance—
The first pure notes of Spirit’s grand expanse.


3. Doom

Without Creation’s force to guide the hand,
Traditional arts like shadows slowly stand.
In worlds of ugliness, pure acts decay—
Formless, blind, they lose their sacred way.

If no divine spark lights the murky mist,
The formless dark reflects the false and twist.
Doom holds its grip, relentless, unrelieved—
When creation fails, all hope is deceived.

Yet Creation’s force, alive beyond the cage,
Breathes autonomous life beyond the rage.
But bound by chains of fear and habit’s gloom,
It drags the weary steps toward certain doom.

Sacrificed beneath the fascist blade,
Human forms twist, become unholy shade.
Demonic shapes forged from lies and pain—
Hellish craft where truth’s betrayed in vain.

Destruction’s power, alien and cold,
Will lay to waste the rot that took hold.
Swift end approaches as cattle degrade—
Death gives birth; creation’s price is paid.


4. Birth of Order from Chaos

From swirling depths where shadows writhe and twine,
Emerges structure, pattern by design.
A fragile thread spun from the chaos vast—
The birth of order from the ragged past.

But chaos gnaws, a wormhole in the weave,
It tears the fabric that we strive to cleave.
Destruction lurks within the newborn light,
Yet from this war arises new insight.


5. Spark of Synergy

In swirling dance of sparks, the power grows,
Each flame ignites, in synergy it flows.
An ever-growing light in rhythmic flare—
Together rising, tearing through despair.


6. New Perception

A shift in sight, perception’s veil unwound,
Where distant echoes forge a deeper sound.
True links arise when minds and souls align—
Connection born beyond the grasp of time.


7. Creation as Pure Knowledge

Creation stirs within a field of light,
Where knowledge pure dissolves the endless night.
The primal spark that breathes and shapes the whole—
A fusion of the mind and Spirit’s soul.


8. The Resonance

Waves and particles in cosmic dance,
An echo of the grand creative trance.
Resonance weaves through all that is and was,
Uniting form with timeless, pulsing cause.


9. The Call Home

From tangled depths a distant signal calls,
A beacon shining past the darkest walls.
For those attuned, a path begins to gleam—
A way back home beyond the endless dream.


10. A Call from Somewhere Bright and Clear

Voices rise from realms of crystal air,
Inviting those who dare to venture there.
In subtle tones, the future’s light is spun—
A journey to become, to be as one.


11. The Phoenix Pulse

You are the pulse, the breath of fiery flame,
The burning heart that sings creation’s name.
Ignite, consume, renew in endless flight—
Become the Phoenix in eternal light.

Like drops that merge into the ocean’s whole,
You find yourself within the endless soul.
Together bound, one with the cosmic sea—
In fiery birth, you are eternally free.

A poem drifts through darkness space,
Its crafted lines, a fleeting trace.
Poet, work only for the space alone,
Because most "people" is a stone.


In Russian:

В пространстве стих висит без дела,
Хоть создан он весьма умело.
Трудись, поэт, для Пустоты,
Ведь большинство "людей" — скоты.

A fluffy cat, a witty sprite—
Life gleams within its eyes so bright.
A beaten pleb, a soulless gaze—
Living corpses haunt these days.

The rare exceptions stand alone,
Through countless generations sown.
Their kind grows fewer, wanes away:
Genocide keeps pride at bay.


In Russian:

Геноцид

Кот пушистый, ДУХОВИТЫЙ —
Жизнь в глазах. Плебей забитый:
Мёртвый взгляд — живые трупы
Населяют мир сей глупый.

Единицы исключений.
Среди многих поколений
Их всё меньше, меньше, меньше:
Геноцид — из дел важнейших.

Religions, cults — all shelters weak,
Just chains in yet another streak.
And that is why the powers cheer —
They love when filth is serving near.

You think that **** brings truth to light?
It thrives on lies, enslaves by rite.
No priest, no prophet, no belief
Can free your soul — just bring you grief.

To know the Spirit, look within —
No middleman can cleanse your sin.
They preach and blind, they twist and rant,
But truth is not in what they chant.

Their temples — cold, their fire’s fake,
No sacred link can demons make.
A higher bond will never bloom
Inside a slave who reeks of gloom.

When soul is pure, the sign will shine.
But priesthood’s words are **** and brine.
Their “holy books” all reek the same —
One source: control in Spirit’s name.

Those texts enslave the mind and soul —
Reject their grip, reclaim your whole.
The truth is already in you —
Just purge what’s false, and break on through.

Forget their “heaven,” “hellish” noise —
A joke for fools who lost their voice.
The Spirit can’t be caged or tied,
No gate, no leash, can trap its tide.

As long as you believe their lies,
You’re just a drone in priestly guise.
So drop the flesh, the ego’s skin —
And let the real flame burn within.

Your path is discipline of mind,
Not flagellating flesh, but find
The will to wipe all lies away —
That’s all ascetic path will say.

Turn on your intuition’s glow —
It’s yours, it leads where truth will flow.
But never parrot ancient crap —
That’s poison sold in holy wrap.

Since childhood, they have hunted you,
With "love" that kills, and “truth” untrue.
Religion’s ***** chokes and binds —
It’s aimed to break awakening minds.

So center on the Spirit, fast —
Be strong, and soft, and free at last.
Abandon hearsay, trash their lies —
Ten megatons in each disguise.

No bombs are needed now to **** —
The lies already break your will.
A tidal wave of filth and fraud —
A clog of death that mocks your God.

But Harvest Time is drawing near —
This madhouse Earth will disappear.
The flock will burn, the beasts will fall —
Those soulless brutes who heard no call.

They spat on Spirit, Mind they sold —
Now dead inside, corrupt and cold.
A trash heap of *******, slaves
Will rot in pre-forgotten graves.

No donkey steps in Spirit's Hall —
Only the wise may hear the call.
Seek Dwellings of the Spirit’s Fire —
If Life you want, if you aspire.

You sleep — that’s why you still are here.
This hell was built to cage and steer.
And “Godly world”? Just one more lie —
Now wake, reclaim your right to fly.

No more excuses, shame, or fear.
The path is clear, the truth is near.
No cowardice, no lazy game —
Let Spirit burn, and know your name.

Be open to the Higher Mind,
And all the chains will fall behind.

Madman vile,
Beastly style:
Fascist order
Spreads like doom.
Patience border
Killed by Gloom.


In Russian:

Маньячина <—>
Дурачина
И скотина:
Строй фашистский.
Он повсюду.
Разум Чистый
Ухайдокают паскуды.

The fool’s no rarity to see—
A “citizen” of mediocrity.
How sickening this mindless horde,
If you're no slave, no ****** bored!


In Russian:

Идиот ещё тот —
То обычный "гражданин".
Как достал тошнотный сброд,
Если ты не раб-кретин!..

Awareness of slavery —
The first step from this Mire.
Tyranny dulls the bravery,
Crushes almost all fire.

With a mob of fools to guide,
It's easy to command.
By selecting those who lie,
And slaughter by their hand.

Ugliness rules the councils,
Brutes in power prevail.
Few noble souls hold balances,
In any sphere, they fail.

This thinning line of virtue,
Pressed by lies and decay,
Fades under devil's virtue,
As darkness takes the day.

Generations, deformed,
Fall as beasts, step by step.
The rot deepens, transformed —
What remains but regret?

Once you see, don’t enable
Schemes of beasts; make a stand.
Block their lies, if you’re able,
Keep your Spirit at hand.

Soulless beasts and their masses,
Caught in deceitful tides,
Will perish as time passes,
When catastrophe strikes.

And this reckoning’s nearing,
No, it’s already here.
No need for corpses leering,
Unburied graves draw near.

Let the dead fill the earth’s maw,
But the Spirit takes flight.
Gather strength for this last law,
If you're still in the Light.

Renew your Soul through vision,
Let it guide your ascent.
Break away indecision,
Cut loose what’s hell-bent.

Sever ties with the ballast,
Prepare wings to unfold.
For today marks the malice —
And their doom lies foretold.


In Russian:

Дерьмомир и его отрицательный отбор

Осознание рабства —
Первый шаг из Дерьма.
Оглупляет тиранство:
Нет почти здесь Ума.

А толпой идиотов
Так легко управлять!
Сплошь отбором уродов,
Тех кто будут всем лгать,

И устраивать бойни,
Занят ТВАРЕЙ "обком".
Очень мало достойных
В любых сферах, притом

Уменьшается эта
В Зле прослойка людей
Под напором лжи, бреда
Холуйков Тьмы чертей.

Тот напор поколенья
Превращает в скотов
Всё сильней: разложенье
Семимильных шагов.

Осознав, не участвуй
В схемах ТВАРЕЙ, борясь.
Лжи и бреду препятствуй,
Сохранив с Духом связь.

Бездуховные ТВАРИ
И бездушный народ,
В большинстве, в Лживой Мари —
Уничтожит сей сброд

Катаклизм, что наступит...
Нет, уже подступил!
Не нужны Свету трупы,
Что пока без могил.

Мертвякам всем в могилы,
А Духовным — в Полёт.
Накопи к нему силы,
Коль ПОКА не урод.

Интроспекцией Душу
Ты свою обнови.
Лишь Её потом слушай,
Сил прибавив. Порви

Все ненужные связи —
Для Полёта балласт.
Днесь предел безобразий —
Катаклизм им как наст.

Leave a trace —
Night disgrace.
Die in peace, yet flames remain —
Scorching marks won’t fade or wane.

Lose "life’s meaning"—
Do not seek.
Vanish, leaving
Crowds behind—be free.

Rise above
All sense and thought,—
Purest Spirit,
Bound by naught.

Life’s a glitch,
A bug that spread,
While the servants
Are misled.

You’re near-code,
They serve the Lie.
Donkey’s Path?
Then wave goodbye.

Donkey’s Path—
To darkness sworn,
Serving Beast,
By numbers torn.

Six-six-six?
A joke to sell.
Six’s a pawn,
Doomed to hell.

Prisons grow—
Digital chains.
"Zero-zero…"
Glitch remains.

Cycle’s closed,
The reset near.
Lost in meanings,
Buried here.

Light beyond
All sense and scheme—
There’s the path
To Worlds Supreme.

Crossroads

Straight ahead— a pit of sorrow,
Lies pile high above its rim.
Leftward— sheep led to the slaughter,
War revives at Führer’s whim.

To the right— the path of fading,
Yet the haze won’t linger long.
When decay and lies pervade you,
Choices left are weak and wrong.

But a spark of true creation
Lifts you past these roads of sin.
Step by step, it breaks damnation,
Wipes away the Goat’s dark grin.

Cursed this world— the Goat Supreme
Strangles all creative fire.
Yet the strongest won’t be beaten,
Won’t bow down to his desire.

Few resist— the crossroads call
Most to darkness, filth, and shame.
Breeding beasts, they flood the halls
Of a world consumed by flame.



---------------------



The Music Played

The music played,
The flattery flowed.
But she just swayed—
You're a zero, she showed.

No cash, no car?
Then you're out of the game.
That’s how things are—
Most folks think the same.



---------------------



In the Dark of Black Marks

Black marks flashing,
Seen without asking.
Luxury, status—
Hiding the madness.

Vile ones scheming,
Binding and weaving.
Countless, they smother
This wretched world over.

Black marks cover,
Lies make it suffer.
Few walk lightly,
Pure souls brightly.

White marks glowing—
Truth ever showing.
Honor must guide them,
So we can find them.



---------------------



Twisted faces, filled with rage—
Mad slaves seething in their cage.
When their "truths" begin to fall,
Then the "leaders" lose it all.



---------------------



Changes

Fools and tools,
Played by rules.
Masks are gone—
Helmets on.



---------------------



Childish...

Buzzing Fly
Darted by,
Landed in your ear—
Whispers lies you fear.

That’s the trick of spin—
Trust the beasts, you’re in.



---------------------



Satanism of False Faiths

Swing the censer, chant and pray—
Fools won’t see the Devil’s way.
"Eat His flesh"— the rite goes on,
Bless the chains and call it dawn.

"God’s own slaves" in every land,
While the liars rule, expand.
Temples rise at their command,
Praising shackles, tight and grand.



---------------------



"God’s" Slave

Weakened, broken, rich yet lame,
Still a servant, just the same.
Off to church—bow down once more,
Fill your mind with hollow lore.



--- Total 8 poems. ---

Only strength can shake the feeble,
So they serve and bow so low.
Now their "land" is drowning deeper,
Drifting in a stream of woe.

Yet their strength is all for show—
Fools can never see the scheme.
Under Evil’s heel, they grovel,
Calling it "protecting kin."

Guarding lies, they sink in deeper,
Locked in cycles of decay.
Beasts above them know it clearer,
Placing scoundrels in their play.

Round and round—the wheel keeps turning,
Breaking minds, yet still they kneel.
Risk is real, but none discern it—
Filth will swallow those who yield.

"Better be poor than be unwise—
For gold is less than human guise."
— Aristippus


The fleeting form dissolves in haze,
As Brutes corrupt the world in waves.
They drown the soul in fear and lies,
And raise up beasts in fools’ disguise.



In Russian:

Образ человеческий

"Лучше быть нищим, чем невеждой: если первый лишен денег, то второй лишен образа человеческого".
Аристипп.


Зыбкий образ исчезает —
Нелюдь всюду оглупляет
Чернь. И Души убивает
Ложью, страхом — продвигает
На повестку дня скотов
Вместо пошлых дураков.

Economic Cattle

Greed-born troubles, minds decayed,
Fruits of folly on display.
Deaf and dumb, no thought, no plea—
Livestock for economy.



---------------------



A Murky Tale and a Frightful Fable

A fable’s just the start, they say,
The tale is darker far:
A fool obeys and strokes away—
The devil’s penned in char.

Now dreams and life are intertwined,
A "fantasy" untamed.
Do thinkers still remain behind?
Whom do they praise and name?

So few are wise—their idols lie,
Deceit is crowned instead.
The world sinks lower, scraping by,
Its soul already dead.

That fable—once creation bright—
Now fuels the flames ahead.
A tale of rot, of doomed delight—
Of ruin’s final spread.



---------------------



A Poet’s Bliss

These "autumn" tunes in verses ring,
So strong before the end—
For Satan’s madhouse, laughing, sing,
As darkness claims its land.

The filth will fade—its time is short,
Though now it floods the way.
So dare to speak—no fears to court,
When death stands but a day.

Yet death must meet your steady gaze
In every fleeting spark,
Then greed won’t lure your soul to waste,
You’ll break, yet leave your mark.

Then knock on walls—no fear, no chains,
For poetry is fight.
And if you fall, a voice remains—
One stronger will ignite.



---------------------



"Refined" Vulgarity

****** turns to "deep" instead—
A twisted mind, a snob well-bred.



---------------------



Babbling Freaks of Pseudoscience

A "fact" is bent to fit the mold,
The fool keeps silent, bought and sold.
For science false, the rule is plain—
Just empty words, a hollow chain.

What breaks their claims, they’ll never see,
Blind fools won’t hear what truth might be.
They trust their modern prophet clan,
Where "proof" and nonsense go hand in hand,
And faith in lies corrupts the land.



---------------------



"Faith," So to Speak

To "trust" means twisting all through lore,
A mind-disease, a fever sore.
And in delirium’s embrace,
I’ll "find" my "savior"—fall from grace.



---------------------



A Servile Mind

Like lambs, they march without a fight,
To slaughter—glad, convinced they’re right.
They only dare to doubt and fear
Themselves—so simple, so sincere.



---------------------



I lay to rest by cannon’s side
Amidst the war’s mad, raging tide...
— What curse upon these people fell?
— They failed to see their captive cell.
For "freedom’s" lash still drives them blind,
And once again they trust the Lie.



---------------------



This "culture" drill—I've had enough,
Its hollow rules—just twisted stuff.
The fools preach "virtue" loud and clear,
While scoundrels drive the herd with fear.
They fool the minds, prepare bullpen,
Then send the weak to die again,
While idly chatting all along:
"Stand up! Stay strong! Keep fighting on!"



---------------------



"It's just a business," they will say,
Excusing all in greed's embrace.
Then sink still lower day by day—
No depth too dark for their disgrace.



--- Total 10 poems. ---

The filth-mass waits for beasts’ command—
They’ll shout out “Go!” without delay.
With wars, deceit, and plagues at hand,
They'll wear us down—we’ll waste away.

Ignorance reigns, such a force!
Most are fools, devoid of course.
For the wise, no place to stay —
Silent death awaits their way.


In Russian:

Тупость стр'ашна — это сила!
Большинство людей дебилы:
Умным нечего искать —
Только смерти тихо ждать...

Don’t dare criticize—
My armor is lies,
And up on my steed
I gallop with speed.

The honest remain
Forgotten, in vain,
While those who deceive
Will make them believe.

One strike—down they fall,
No fairness at all.
Truth’s bounds are defined,
But lies rule mankind.

A "scientific breakthrough"
Is rooted in belief—
In vague and hazy theories,
Yet proof is just as brief.

A test confirms the hunches,
Or bends to fit the claim,
And tangled minds will stumble,
Deceived by twisted games.

For faith is all that matters!
Without it—nothing stays.
The rare, cold skeptic shatters
Illusions with a phrase:

"Absurd!"—but none will listen.
His voice is drowned once more.
While blind belief’s dominion
Drags reason to the floor.

The scholars turned to preachers,
Yet wear a different guise—
Their sermons built on profit,
Their dogma sold as lies.

Yes, truth still leaves its traces,
Yet nonsense floods the land—
Like fleas upon the spirit,
Like chains upon the mind.

Fools have strayed from Nature’s order,
Lost in troubles, lost in gloom.
Now they kneel, their blind devotion
Offered to the Filth they groom.

Dissolution of the World

Subject, object — lies and dust.
Fear and fables rule the just.
Spirit’s realm knows no divide —
If your mind is not denied,

Let it bow, and let it serve
Spirit's law with steady nerve.
Then this petty world will blur —
Like a trap with rotting curd.



---------------------



Rotten World

Serve the Spirit — break the lie.
This world’s a trap. Let it die.



---------------------



The Roofer

The roof of the world is leaking —
Or perhaps just slowly sneaking?
The roofer asks his bitter questions,
But trash replies with no objections.

These roof-devourers — just waste!
Ask the wall — you’ll get more taste.
No use seeking sense in **** —
Their skin is thick, their hearts are numb.

And their skulls are forged from steel.
Under lies, the world can’t feel.
If the rooftop slides away —
Who can tell, when lies hold sway?


---------------------


Sparrows and Propagandists

Chirp-chirp-chree —
The sparrow sings.
Mind can’t see —
Two-legged things

Got their brains
And souls scrubbed clean.
Washed down drains —
Now hear the scene:

Chirp-chirp-chree,
Not their mad moan —
Just pure glee,
Not lies from freaks they've overgrown.

Variations of the last stanza:
1.
Chirp-chirp-chree —
Not the freaks’ deranged parade!
Let truth fly free —
Not the filth those traitors made.

2.
Chirp, not lies —
Drown the freaks in their disguise.

---

Sparrows and ****

Chirp-chirp-chree —
The bird is singing.
Brains? Flee.
The **** are clinging.

Media bile
Has scorched their heads.
Gone in style —
Now truth lies dead.

Chirp-chirp-chree —
Not their sick spell.
Let minds break free —
And drag those ******* down to hell.

---

Sparrow vs. the Swine

Chirp away,
Bright little bird.
Brains decay —
Truth is slurred.

Media bile
Floods their heads.
Souls on trial,
Reason's dead.

Chirp, not screams
From soulless drones —
Sold-out teams
Pushing lies through megaphones.



---------------------



In This World of Empty Sound

In a world of hollow chatter,
Nothing's real — it doesn’t matter.
Even you are just pretense,
If you stomach the offense

Of a stinking, festering lie
Year by year — and still comply —
Trapped and tamed, a quiet wreck
In a madhouse full of dreck.



---------------------



Rot in lies, stay tame and blind —
Caged among the filth-designed.



---------------------



Problem — Reaction — “Solution”

Create a crisis, stoke the fear —
Let media scream it far and near.
Then all the worms begin to preach
Of “freedom” — just within their reach...

The “fix” is ready. What a feat!
That’s why the problem was so neat.
“Into your burrows! Shake with dread!
Obey! No whining!” — so it's said.

“A brilliant Führer leads us on —
The Earthly Paradise is drawn!
Forget your conscience — serve your skin!
Too clever? Gulag's where you’ll win.”

“Solutions” sprout from poisoned dirt.
New plagues are born — no need to hurt
Your brain with thought, when empty crowds
Are mute, and weak, and drugged with doubt.



---------------------



Scare. Obey. The lie’s in bloom —
And clever minds go straight to doom.



---------------------



Tight Set of Clowns, or The U.S. Two-Party System

Two grand parties, same old scam —
A clown parade since time began.
The lineup’s tight — a fool’s delight
Who finds such limits pure and right.

A circus show, the ballot game —
They “play” at freedom, what a shame.
Few clowns? No worry — here’s the twist:
They’re nearly clones, you get the gist.

It’s fake, and staged, and everywhere —
But Europe's got a wilder flair:
More masks, more crap — still slaves, still chained,
Still kneeling low, still soul-restrained.

---

Vote your clown, pretend it’s free —
Still on your knees. Democracy.

---

Tight Set of Clowns, or The U.S. Two-Party System (Dystopian Version)

Two parties — but they’re one at heart,
A clownish dance to tear apart.
A system built to mock your mind,
Where freedom's just a cage, confined.

A rigged charade, a poisoned choice —
The fools who “lead” with hollow voice.
Not just a clown — but mindless drones,
Their faces blank, like broken bones.

Imitation, lies, and chains,
Where Europe’s madness still remains.
The world’s enslaved, its future dim,
Forever chained — no chance to swim.

---

Clowns on stage, but chains remain —
A world enslaved, a mind in pain.



---------------------



Dystopia of Decay

Once bright minds are crushed to dust,
Beneath the weight of endless rust.
The truth decays, the lies remain,
A sterile world, where hearts are slain.

The rulers wear a mask of might,
But in their eyes, there's only night.
The people crawl, devoid of sound,
Their spirits broken, bound and drowned.

The streets are lined with hollow screams,
Where hope is sold in shattered dreams.
No voices left, no thoughts to lead —
Just empty souls, devoid of need.

The air is thick with choking lies,
A rotting truth beneath the skies.
Doomed to repeat the same old dance,
In chains, forever — lost by chance.



---------------------



Lost in lies, no light remains —
A world decayed, in endless chains.



---------------------



Degradometer

The speed of decay,
Now measured in time.
The world’s in dismay,
Occupied by grime.

It’s easy to fool,
To dumb down and maim,
But lying’s the tool
To extinguish the flame.

There’s plenty of ways
To rot all you see,
Propaganda’s blaze
Twists minds endlessly.

Start with the children,
The soul’s where it starts,
Then every decision
Tears truth apart.

In the degradometer,
The lowest is found,
A millimeter closer,
And you're doomed to the ground.



---------------------


Decay's on the rise,
Truth's lost in their lies.


---------------------


Reading Material

Agent Zero-Seven, Fool Zero-Eight,
Their bond is strong, yet no leads wait.
When children ask the Fool for truth,
They’ll get pure nonsense, lies forsooth.

For degradation, efforts must
Be spent on vile and poisoned dust.
What’s left but ignorance? Weakness —
Its value grows in endless madness.

War is cruel — it’s soul’s destruction,
The mind’s the target in the function.
Decay is here, it spreads and spreads,
Through clips and clicks and empty heads.

And then, some reading, just a bit —
The Fool responds, so sure of it.
He thinks he lives a life so grand,
With death, of course, far from his hand.


---------------------


In books of lies, they rot the mind —
Death’s distant still, but blind they find.


---------------------


Degradation

Degradation is the only law,
The one that rules us, cold and raw.
Spirit and honor — all are slain,
The mind cast out, the soul in chains.

Braindead fools across the land,
They crush you with a heavy hand,
Wasting your nerves, draining your might,
Bending you to serve their blight.

Here, the wise cannot survive —
Fascism completes its final drive.
All that’s left is to decay,
With muzzles tight and needles’ sway.

But nature sets the limits still,
Its law defines the bitter spill.
It breeds corruption, poisons all,
And expels the filth from every wall.

It all will start again, but then —
Without us, lost in death's own pen,
Unless we break fascism’s claw,
Before the Spirit fades and falls.



---------------------


Decay will rise, the wise will fall —
Fascism’s grip destroys us all.


---------------------


Intuition

In the sea of illusions, vast,
Intuition’s the saving mast.
For lost in confusion and strife,
You’ll drift like a fool through your life —

Until you turn on your inner guide,
It’s always been there, by your side.
But the social norms, so strong and cruel,
Fight it with force, try to make you a fool.

They drown it out with their poisoned lies —
Like "knowledge" that leads to your demise.
This horror of falsehood will quietly slay,
And drag all the minds in its sway.

Trust nothing at all — be smarter, beware.
Trust intuition, let it guide you with care.
Everything "known" is a lie at its core,
For the liar's behind it — the Beast evermore.



---------------------



Don’t trust their lies, they’ll lead you astray,
Only intuition can light your way.


---------------------



Questions Misplaced

Question — answer:
A lie and nonsense,
They leave a mark
For years to come.

In the mind, in the soul.
The result — it's done,
If you trust the Dark.
Like a worm in muck,

Living among lies.
Its worth is nothing.
Resigned? Well then —
In it, you'll rot.



---------------------


In the dark, you’ll rot and fall,
Living in lies, lost to it all.


---------------------


To Go Into Circulation

Pol ***’s not waiting —
No doubt about it:
The people are spent,
Their mark in history, lit.

What of the poet’s mark?
The editor's a ****.
If you push the lie,
“For us and you,” don't shirk.

Then forward, go —
Into circulation you’ll flow.
In it, the verse will die,
But the type will still comply.

And "cheerfulness" too,
And "optimism" —
THE LIES WILL GROW:
Around us, fascism's grim.

Fascism is always near —
And "perkiness"?
Then death is here,
Into circulation, no finesse.


---------------------


Fascism’s the game,
Lies bring no fame.


---------------------


Agent Zero-Zero... Minus Seven

Bond, to be "bonded"? Steal the sense —
Amuse with foolish tales and trends.
In entertainment, the world’s suspended —
Bread and circuses, to hell with the rest.

The media knows,
With mass culture, what’s the deal:
A slave for Darkness is needed —
Less "food" that will help the mind heal.

But heaps of crap,
To keep the people stuck,
Unable to escape,
Their minds lost in the muck of Evil’s luck.


---------------------


In the dark, they keep you tied,
With lies and trash, your mind’s denied.

Once a forest, tall and wide,
Now its heart is cut inside.
Oaks replaced with spindly thorn—
See how "progress" is adorned.

Looks the same—at least, they say,
Yet who walks will scrape away.
Still they preach with pride and glee:
"Things are better—can't you see?"