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49 · Feb 16
Guppies
Something enormous is flooding my mind—
Love? Or another deception designed?
Fools disappear into Ignorance deep,
Never aware of the Evil’s grand scheme.

Tend to your small world with “love” and devotion,
Cherish your “friendship” and all that emotion.
Yet in the end, things are “getting much better”
By grinding down souls and minds till they shatter.

Water’s unseen by a foolish small fish,
Glass sets no limit to knowledge it swished.
Lies that are vast are as air—unperceived,
If you are fed and your body’s not grieved.

If walls of a prison enclose all around,
Only a fool sees the world unbound.
All like the guppies have drifted astray—
Slaves, yet too blind to escape or betray.
48 · Jan 19
Narrow Specialists
A narrow view, concentration’s plight!
Become a fiend—descend from height.
Fed by lopsided expertise,
Your mind succumbs to barren seas.

For broader thought, the Earth’s a tomb;
Narrow minds sow widespread gloom.
A plague of folly sweeps the lands,
Its tyranny in tight commands.

Lopsided vision breeds a flaw,
Though “success” abides its law.
In fields where Nature meets her end,
Such crudeness killers do defend.

Blind to truth, their deeds destroy,
“Achievements” only hollow joy.


In Russian:

Узкие специалисты

Узость взгляда — концентрация!
Станешь гадом — деградация
Однобокостью питаема.
Ум: Земля необитаема
Для широкого ума —
Узколобость как чума
Косит Глупости Пространства,
Насаждаема тиранством.
Однобокость — это тупость,
Пусть успех в тех сферах, грубость
Коих смертью для Природы.
Однобокие уроды
Палачами — то не знают:
Лишь "успехи" умножают.
48 · Jan 19
Priorities
As a child, I ate but little,
Found the time for thoughts to whittle.
But for many, food’s ascent
Comes just after lust is spent.


In Russian:

Приоритеты

В детстве мало каши ел
И задуматься успел.
А у многих стал желудок
Главным пунктом после блуда.
48 · Feb 6
Dream and Wake
Suckers

Sucker,
Tougher—
Like a treat
For sharks to eat.



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



Baudelaire sought Evil’s root,
But found flowers on his route.
If you choose a half-way stand,
Fake delights will take your hand.

Trapped in beauty, dull and vain,
Fools like these are not so few—
Praised in print and schools again,
Held as models—yet untrue.



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



Drab and grim, a life unreal,
Pouring salt with holy zeal,
Calling poison sacred balm—
Year by year, it stings more harm.



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



The Poet’s Path Today

No aid in sight, while censors grow,
More ruthless, bolder than before.
Few humans left—just skins on show,
Each year more rotten to the core.

They wrote in drawers. Now, in the net,
It’s just the same—a silent fate.
True bards are lost in waves of dreck,
And verse is worthless in Bedlam’s state.

War, CowID—both made it plain:
Only fierce verse can strike and sting,
To show how low the fools remain,
Enslaved beneath the yoke of sin.



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



"Too much preaching," some may say...
But I write for me alone—
Young and honest, no display,
Fragile nerves aren't made of stone.



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



To evil bowed, a fool obeys,
A madman scribbling hollow lays.
Just pour me *****—make it strong,
The world’s gone mad, it won’t be long.



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



Dream and Wake

Once again, the dome stayed sealed,
And I’m falling like a stone.
Dreams have passed—deceit revealed,
Cheap and hollow, madmen grown.

Yet no fall—there’s nowhere deeper,
Hell is knocking from below.
Lies are drowning all—still steeper,
Sinking fast in endless woe.



--- Total 7 poems ---
48 · Jan 17
True Courage
Courage lies in striving,
In the fight with wrong,
Free from all contriving,
Steady, brave, and strong.
Let them call you foolish,
Still, you gave your all.
Saved your soul from ruin,
When decay enthralls.
Rot surrounds; it festers,
Claiming hearts in vain.
Rooted deep, it nestles,
Spreads its cruel domain.
World—a madhouse broken,
Crushing soul and mind.
Dreams of rot are spoken,
Yet you stand, aligned.


In Russian:

Настоящее мужество

Мужество — в упорстве
Той борьбы со Злом,
Что чужда притворства.
Назовут ослом
Пусть, зато ты знаешь,
Что ей 'отдал всё.
Душу тем спасаешь,
Ведь кругом Гнильё.
Гниль; и ты гнилушка,
Коль укоренён
В ней. Мирок — Психушка.
Дух в ней гонят вон,
Разум истребляют.
Вот такой расклад.
В Гнили пни мечтают,
Чел бороться рад.
48 · Dec 2024
TNT in the Veins
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
It all comes down to TNT,
It must flow in your veins, you see.
This dim-wit world — just say the word,
And they'll charge forth, like a blinded herd.

To the ravine, they'll blindly tread,
Blood-stained hands, by banners led.
Write in law new fascist codes,
March to hate on darkened roads.

Not a fool, nor lost in haze,
Spill your blood, ignite the blaze.
In the Ravine of Evil deep,
With TNT, no soul shall sleep.

Stock your veins with fire’s might,
Hesitate, you'll lose the fight.
Gather strength, for soon they'll call:
“Fools, charge forward, give your all!”

Only TNT feeds reason now,
It arms the heart, it shows you how.
To perish with it, pure and true,
Redeems the soul, renews its hue.


In Russian:

Тротил в крови

Весь вопрос в тротиле.
Должен быть в крови
Он. Мирок дебилий:
Только позови,

И пойдёт к оврагу.
Кровью полон он
Будет — только флагом
Помаши, в "закон"

Пропиши фашизма
Новые статьи.
Чуждый кретинизма,
Кровь свою пусти

В Зла овраг. С тротилом
Коль она, взорвёшь
Часть хотя бы. Силы
Копишь — пропадёшь.

Накопляй тротила
Свой в крови запас:
Скоро всем дебилам
Снова крикнут "фас!"

Разум лишь тротилом
Можно днесь питать.
Погибать с ним мило —
Душу тем спасать.
48 · Dec 2024
Total madness
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
For madness,
No sharp sadness—
It has reached its peak, no doubt!
Feel free to let your curses out!


In Russian:

Для маразма
Нет сарказма —
Он уже достиг предела!
Применяй проклятья смело!
Go to hell, you mindless clowns,
Your fears and lies—just hollow sounds.
The dark weaves terror, feeds deceit,
Not life, but gallows on repeat.

The mind’s condemned when fools decide,
And if you follow, step in stride,
Obey, submit—descend below,
Where madness reigns and horrors grow.

Such bitter words fit times like these,
Where reason drowns in lunacies,
A world gone mad, its muzzle tight,
As evil wields its twisted might.

Through CowID years—three out of four—
Were fools, their souls erased and torn.
And half of them, beyond all hope—
The world is doomed, the final scope.

Yet ruin looms, it won’t be long,
The monster falls, undone by storm.
A cataclysm will cleanse the schism,
Farewell, you wretched, cursed fascism...


In Russian:

Грубое прощание с дураками и одолевшим их фашизмом

Идите в задницу, уроды,
И ваши глупые невзгоды,
Что Тьма твАрит чрез ложь и страхи —
Не жизнь, а отдаленье плахи.

На плахе ум в конце пути,
Коль с идиотами идти
Ты будешь, веря, подчиняясь,
Всё ниже в Бездну опускаясь.  

Столь резкий тон оправдан ныне:
От ужаса кровь в жилах стынет
От тупости мирка — намордник
Дурь показал средь Зла риторик

В года говнида: три четвёртых
В нём дураки. Душонки стерты
У половины дураков.
"Обречено" — прогноз таков

Для мира в целом. Что ж, осталось
Зло потерпеть, наверно, малость:
Сметёт Уродство Катаклизм.
Прощай, подмявший мир фашизм...
48 · Jan 25
Satan and His Flock
Frightened fools: beware! —
With each “new” year they rot,
Duller minds, greed laid bare,
Bowing to the Goat of Blot.
Culture’s death, despair—
And hence, our cursed lot.


In Russian:

Сатана и его паства

Пуганные дурни,
С каждым "новым" годом
Всё тупей и шкурней
Под Козлом-Уродом,
Это смерть Культуре —
Оттого НЕВЗГОДЫ.
48 · Feb 17
Bhutan is Gone
Bhutan is lost,
Nepal fell too,
Drowned in lies—
No nations true.

Just one world,
A fascist guise,
If you dare
To analyze.

One thing left—
A simple key:
Never lie
To yourself. Be free.
The prologue? Fraud. The middle? Lies.
Deceit unfolds beneath the skies.
And at the end, like beasts, we fall—
Destroyed by falsehoods, one and all.


In Russian:

История человечества, кратко

Пролог — подлог, на середине
Тотальна ложь. И как к скотине
В Конце Истории отношенье —
Обманами уничтоженье.
Our armor’s strong, our tanks are swift in motion,
A mad commander drives us to the fray.
And spirits flow like water — such devotion,
To die for nothing, eager anyway.

For nothing — yes, to slaughter fools, they’re sending,
We do not know the cause, nor question why.
Each generation meets the same grim ending,
Like lambs to slaughter, led by beasts, we die.


In Russian:

Бараны и новая броня

Броня крепка, и танки наши б'ыстры.
Ведёт нас в бой свихнувшийся комбат.
И спирту подвезли опять в канистрах —
Невесть за что погибнуть каждый рад.

Что НИ ЗА ЧТО, ведь цель убой придурков,
Не знаем мы, но это не впервой:
Любое поколение, затуркав,
ТВАРЬЁ ведёт, как агнцев, на убой.
48 · Feb 14
In disgrace
"In forest depths, a rebel band"
Still guards their soul, their mind, their stand.
While filthy fascists, vile and base,
Bow down to evil—lost in disgrace.
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Hardy, crazy dolly Daisy
is a mind pliant to Evil.
All in it is very hazy.
The most problem is retrieval.
When "mind development" runs wild,
The odds are high—it’s soon defiled.
It slides to idiocy fast—
And thus, decadence grips us vast.

The CowID years made clear to see:
Most people dwell in idiocy.
"Development" skewed, the selfish breed—
A parasite born of boundless greed.

Professors, doctors, cops, MPs,
Officials crawling on their knees—
Revealed as frauds, a shameless lot,
While crowds just spin and toil for naught.

The Heart supreme, the mind a tool—
Only then the order’s cool.
You’ll stand, not bow to creatures vile,
Nor sink into the world’s defile.

Defile—no less, no more, just that.
CowID has shown where reason’s at.
But under Spirit, mind grows fine—
It won’t betray with falls so blind.


In Russian:

"Развитие" ума

Ума "развитье", если слишком,
Имеет сверх-высокий шанс
Скатиться до идиотизма —
Отсюда мира декаданс.

Показано в года _говнида,
Что идиотов большинство.
"Развитье" однобоко — гнида
Эгоистичная итог того.

Профессора, "врачи" и копы,
Чинуши, депутыты — все
Предстали как большие жопы,
А чернь — как белки в колесе.

Верховно Сердце, ум лишь служка —
Тогда порядок в том уме:
Не будешь ты для ТВАРЕЙ душкой,
Валяясь в МИРОВОМ ДЕРЬМЕ.

Дерьмо — не меньше и не больше:
Барановирус доказал.
ПОД Духом ум — он станет тоньше:
Не заведёт в ТАКОЙ! провал.
47 · Jan 1
Mawkishness
The murk of metaphor and flair,
Adorning verse with hollow airs,
Is like a colon placed with care,
While meaning’s lost in distant lairs.

Imagery and lyric’s worth
In vile, profane, and broken lands
Is cheap. We need colossal work
To fight as Reason makes its stand.

Leave to fools the syruped line
That drips with verbal diarrhea.
Still, time draws the final sign —
The world spins faster toward its fear.

Monstrous BEASTS have set the pace,
CowID revealed the fools' charade.
A world of madness, blind disgrace —
Where Reason's light begins to fade.


In Russian:

Муть метафоры и прочее
Украшательство в стихе —
Это ставить двоеточие,
Смысл оставив вдалеке.

Образ, лирика в похабном
Мире — небольшой цены.
Надо делать всё масштабно
Среди с Разумом войны,

Дуракам оставив строчки,
Где от патоки понос —
И словесный. В прочим, точку
Время ставит. Мир вразнос

Запустили ТВАРИ. Это
Показал тупой говнид.
Мир покорности и бреда —
Разум в нём почти убит.
47 · Feb 9
Faith of a Sort
Spirit: not to KNOW, but trust...
Trust in nonsense, though,
Opening doors to evil — just
Letting Souls sink low.

Self-reflection's way is clear:
Doubt, and seek to KNOW.
Faith degrades—repeating fear
Lets its poison grow.

Preach a lie ten thousand times —
Fools will chant along.
Fools are countless—dull, like mimes,
Almost beast-like throng.

Flock’s obedient, proud to kneel,
Shepherd takes the lead.
Faith is just the chains of steel —
Slaves' revenge, indeed.

Why? Because you have a Soul.
Creatures hate you whole.
Soulless beasts would take control —
Masters, kings so cold.

Now they hide—no fangs, no snare,
Just a clown instead.
"P-resident" the mob picks there,
Voting like the dead.

Truth is waiting, look within —
Deep inside it's stored.
Creatures lie with wicked grin.
Lie not to yourself, no more.

Nothing’s simpler—shine, break free,
Darkness has no worth.
Faith’s a scab—it lets disease
Cling to Mind and Soul from birth...
Sorting Out the Parasites

Worms inside? A minor plight.
Lies and fear—now that's a bite!
Mind and soul, they gnaw and chew,
Like piranhas slicing through.



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



Slaughter

Like a rifle, lies explode,
Spewing venom in a code.
Till the fool, in blind deceit,
Meets the puppet—his defeat.



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



I'm sick of fools, their mindless breed—
So many swarming... makes me seethe.



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



Idiots! Work till you drop,
Off to war, to the doc!
Ruling you aren’t mere brutes—
Monsters hiding. Sinking... ROCK!



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



The page could take it—now the Net
Absorbs the wildest lies you bet.
They call it progress, yet I see—
Deception rules more ruthlessly.



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



Maybe time to shake the pride,
Drop the arrogance aside,
Face the truth—your throne is rotten,
Just a fool in filth forgotten.

In a world so dull, enslaved,
Where no light is truly brave,
For without its Shadow near—
Darkness reigns year after year…



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



Icons of Satan

No point preaching to the pawn—
Evil’s code won’t be withdrawn.
Break it down—he’d barely live,
For it’s all he has to give.

Born of darkness, shaped to be,
One of Satan’s effigies.
Yet this wretch, so blind, unwise,
Seeks to rise… and claim the prize.
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
A noble goat ascends the tiers,
Not the last among the chain.
A wretched soul who sold his years
To Evil’s tune for fleeting gain.

He spits on those beneath his feet,
Crushes those who touch the base,
And serves the whims of those elite,
Groveling with slavish grace.

This Everest of servile grime,
A mountain built of fawning waste,
Defines the world—a hollow crime,
No room for Mind or Soul’s embrace.

Yet should such values hold their sway,
The hollow peak will quickly fall.
To those attuned, the signs convey:
Decline now looms above us all.

Degradation’s rife, unchecked;
The base will crack and pull it down.
The "summit’s" fiend, your reign is wrecked—
Weep and wail; you’ll surely drown!


In Russian:

Пирамида обЧественного идиотоустройства

Знатный козлик — в пирамиде
Не последнее звено:
Повезло продажной гниде —
Он подстроился под Зло

И плюёт на тех, кто снизу,
Топчет тех, кто видит дно.
Исполняет все капризы
Тех, кто "сверху", на говно

Изводясь. И эверестом
Из холуйского дерьма
Можно мир назвать. Нет места
В нём тому, кто Зов Ума

И Души считает главным.
А коль так, то эверест
Скоро рухнет. Стало явным
Это чутким — глянь окрест:

Деградация зашкалена —
Дно трещит и за собой
"Верх" утащит в пропасть. Гадина
На "вершине", плачь и вой!
47 · Jan 17
False Faces
A lying face can hide more pain
Than mines beneath a traveled lane.
No Sappers clear the Lies, beware —
You'll lose your soul, your cross to bear.

Indulge the ****, and you’ll ignite,
Their human bomb, their truest blight.
A fine line splits: most sway with ease,
The slavish herd that serves disease.

The risks are vast to lose your way,
To join the goats, become their prey.
Bow too low, and soon you will find,
Power claims your soul and mind.

Stand like a rock, defy the crowd!
No lies should ever be allowed.
For men of honor, strong and true,
Expose the falsehoods, break through.


In Russian:

Лживые мины

Мина мины поопасней,
Чем зарытый в путь фугас:
Нет Сапёров Лжи. Ужасней,
Если Душу ты не спас

И потворствуешь подонкам —
Стал для них ты как тротил.
Разделение здесь тонко:
Большинство часть ТВАРЕЙ сил.

Много рисков оступиться
И в ряды козлов попасть:
Слишком низко наклониться —
Поимеет тебя власть.

Стой скалою — похуй мины!
И не верь тотальной лжи:
Настоящие мужчины
Обличают пиздежи.
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
"New" is not the better way.
The cunning breed, day after day,
Spins the OLD record, sly and shrill,
Masking rot with "new" goodwill.

Into "novelty," they shove
Vileness, killing truth and love.
The spirit—core of all we learn—
Is placed upon the pyre to burn.

Once, there was a purer time,
Unmasked by deceitful rhyme,
Higher than this "novel lore,"
Where wisdom reigned, now thought's a bore.

And so they press their wretched fare,
Crushing balance, unaware.
Psychic ruin lies ahead—
Full decadence, where reason’s dead.

The mind, beneath the spirit’s reign,
Holds the line 'gainst all profane,
Shielding us from beasts’ embrace,
Strengthening reason’s rightful place.


In Russian:

Старая пластинка
псевдо-новизны
"Новое" — не лучшее.
Долго племясучее
СТАРУЮ пластинку
Крутит, под сурдинку
В "новизну" пихая
Мерзость, убивая
Главное в познаньи —
Дух. Он на закланьи.
Много было раньше,
И без всякой фальши,
ВЫШЕ этой "нови".
Ум теперь коровий,
Потому пихают
Мерзость, добивая
Психики баланс —
Полный декаданс.
Ум ПОД Духом — это
Тот баланс: от бреда
_ТВАРЕЙ защищает,
Разум укрепляя.
47 · Jan 25
Regression
The ape-man’s back, he claims the throne,
And bends mankind beneath his stone.
The "Renaissance" was brief, it seems—
Now fascist rule fulfills dark dreams.

Genocide is everywhere,
CowID and war laid truth laid bare.
To the top rise vile and crude,
Where shame and reason are subdued.

They feast amid the plague’s decay,
The final feast before dismay.
The scholar spins his clever lies:
“This is progress,” he implies.

But tread not on their “progressed” path,
Lest filth cling tightly in its wrath.
This world, debased beyond repair,
Has madness dancing everywhere.

The ape-man’s back, his work is grim,
And soon he’ll finish all for him.
All delicate, all light has fled—
Rotting Darkness reigns instead.


In Russian:

Откат назад

Питекантроп возвратился
И подмял собою люд.
"Ренессанс" недолго длился —
Ныне строй фашистский, лют.

Геноцид теперь повсюду —
Показали то CowID
И война. "Наверх" паскуды.
В ком изжиты ум и стыд,

Тот банкует и пирует.
Пир последний — средь Чумы.
Но очкарик обоснует,
Что в прогрессе, типа, мы.

Не вступай в "прогресс" — подошвы
Не отмоешь от дерьма.
В мире несказанно пошлом
Почти все сошли с ума.

Питекантроп возвратился,
И добьёт он скоро всё
Деликатное. Сокрылся
Свет, покрыла Тьма Гнильё.
47 · Jan 2
So-Called...
A "so-called Ukraine," they claim,
A term in Kremlin's vile refrain.
But what I found was grief and shame,
In a foreign land, through war’s disdain.

A "so-called shell" tore through my flesh,
Left me with stumps where legs had been.
Yet still I trust their lies afresh—
Without them, Hell I’d never "win".


In Russian:

Так называемое...

"Так называемая "украина" — общеупотребимое выражение в рашистских СМРАДах.

Так называемой пизды
Я получил в чужой стране,
Прельстившись обещаньем мзды
На "эСВэО" — не на войне.

Так называемый снаряд
Мне ноги превратил в культи.
Но снова верить СМРАДам рад —
Без них в Ад Рашке не дойти.


СМРАД - средства массовой
рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.
47 · Jan 3
The Land under Evil
Fools believe they're something greater,
Than feedstock for insane "creator".
If all fools will fall  in Evil hand,
Cretinism grips all Unhappy Land.


In Russian:

Всемирный Загон

Мнят себя людьми придурки,
Но для выделки то шкурки,
Коль Загон весь под фашизмом,
Тяжко болен кретинизмом.
The "moderator", sly instigator,
And the snitch—a Darkness' crest.
Their filth, like tractors, crushes later
Unformed minds at their behest.


In Russian:

Цензура и прочая

"Модератор", провокатор
И сексот — оплоты Тьмы:
Мерзость давит словно трактор
Неокрепшие умы.
47 · Jan 27
Foolish Sport
Someone’s bound to claim the prize—
Sport, a game for foolish minds.
When the path to Light denies,
Only “strength” the victor finds.

Sport’s a model well-designed:
To keep the slaves from breaking free,
Dulling hearts and numbing minds.
Final of race—decay will be.


In Russian:

Глупый спорт

Кто-нибудь да победит —
Спорта глупая забава.
Если к Свету путь закрыт,
Только "сильные" здесь правы,

Спорт хорошая модель:
Цель — от рабства отвлеченье.
Оглупленье также цель.
Финиш гонки — разложенье.

Вариант последней строки: Пункт конечный — разложенье.
46 · Jan 22
The Caboose of Lies
The Train of Lies won’t climb the hill;
Its engine's strained, its wheels stand still.
The caboose, with dreams of joy foretold,
Proclaimed the weight was oversold.

"Let off some steam, unload the freight;
This burden makes the climb too great!"
The press insists, "It’s just a glitch,"
Yet churns out garbage, pitch by pitch.


In Russian:

Прицепной вагон в Поезде Лжи

Паровозик Лжи не тащит
В гору: прицепной вагон,
Что последний, море счастья
Обещал, изгнавши вон  

Перегретый пар, ведь весу
Много в поезде давно.
"Неполадки м'алы" — пресса
Гонит вновь одно говно.
Hell’s no place for sacred sight—
Just the Devil’s fraud and blight.
Yet you cling to all you’ve got—
Truly, you're a mindless clot...


In Russian:

Здесь нет никакого духовного опыта

Опыт ЧЁРТА, коль в Аду
Прозябаешь. Но в пизду
Ты не гонишь опыт тот —
Полноценный идиот...
46 · Jan 3
Inhumans
Do I live here, or just decay,
With fear and lies to cloud the day?
The "government"... — I curse, berate,
Without knowing: inhumans shaped our Fate.


In Russian:

Нелюдь

Я здесь живу иль прозябаю? —
Маразм и страхи, ложь до краю.
"Правительство" привычно хаю —
Что НЕЛЮДЬ правит, я не знаю...
For the "bard," a fool at best,
Any theme is not a test.
Love and nature—same old song,
Simpleminded, dull, and wrong.

Depth of thought? A twisted mind?
That’s beyond his feeble kind.
Like a finch, so light and airy,
Singing pop-tune cover parodies.

Cutesy rhymes? They call it art!
Flooded shelves—lowbrow and ****.
All alike, without a soul,
Mindless drivel, bleak and dull.

World’s collapsing—on the brink,
Fascist filth, decay, and stink.
Yet the "bard" just hums along,
Like a madman lost in song.

Axes swing—the forest dies,
While the fool still warbles lies.
Newborn weeds of madness grow,
Chains of fear, deceit, and woe.

Drowned beneath a massive horde,
Soulless, vacant, dumb, and bored.
Yet the bard will paint it bright,
Shaking for his worthless hide.

No way forward—none at all.
Fools and fiends still run the ball,
Spreading ignorance like rot,
While the idiots eat it up.

Three in four—or maybe more—
Dumb as dirt, yet full of lore.
All this filth they try to veil—
Sing, you jester, for the frail!


In Russian:

Поэты, барды и прочая сволочь

Сложной темы для стиха
Нет у "барда"-дурака.
Про природу и любовь
Недоумок пишет вновь.

Духа сложные вопросы
И в сознаньи перекосы —
Это словно канарейке
Предложи попсы ремейки.

С'юси-м'уси посчитали
Здесь поэзией. Насрали
Тех твАрений очень много —
Однотипно и убого.

Мир на грани иль за гранью,
Посреди фашисткой срани,
Разложения, но "певчий"
Как среди порубки леший.

Леший — пеший. Механизмы
Рубят лес. Идиотизмы
Порослью взрастают новой.
Ложь и страх, маразм — оковы:

Одолеют серой массой
ОГРОМАДНОЙ. Но прикрасы
Певчий-леший всем впендюрит,
Как и все, трясясь о шкуре.

Перспективы НИКАКИЕ —
Дурней много, ТВАРИ злые
Делают свою работу
Оглупленья. Идиоты

Три четвёртых, даже больше.
Прикрывает много фальши
Разложения картину —
Пой, уродец, для кретинов!..
46 · Jan 22
Experiment
The sun is shining bright today,
The world’s alive, in full display.
Yet in my heart, a bitter note—
For I’m an idiot.

An idiot—thus Nature’s rules
Are mocked by men and flocks of fools.
And so, in shadows, troubles rise—
Our world is bound by lies.

We are many, countless hordes,
Idiots who praise false lords.
For Satan’s throne, we strive and scheme,
Chasing wealth—the "golden dream."

Books we read with hollow pride,
Yet wisdom’s missing deep inside.
Nothing there to feed the soul—
All is fake and bought for gold.

"Plagues" invented, wars ignite,
Dragging us into the fight.
Useless now, we’ve lost the thread—
Fit for nothing but the dead.

The sun is shining brighter still,
Each day it burns with sharpened will.
Soon it turns to scorching fire—
We’ll perish in its pyre.

Yet Earth will cool, and once again
A fool will rise, a beast in men.
He’ll trample Nature’s sacred ground,
A mindless herd, the cycle bound.

It’s all devolving, evil’s game—
An experiment in shame.
"Obey the law!" the tyrants shout,
Or they’ll ***** your spirit out.


In Russian:

Эксперимент

Солнце светит ярко,
Всё вокруг цветёт.
На душе помарка,
Я ведь идиот.

Идиот — Природа
Значит не указ.
Оттого невзгоды —
Тьма припёрла нас.

Нас ведь очень много —
Идиотов тех.
Потому нам богом
Сатана. "Успех"

Главное. Баблишко
Подкреп'ит его.
Но читаем книжки,
В коих НИЧЕГО.

Ничего, что важно
Чахнущей душе.
Всё насквозь ПРОДАЖНО —
Честный на туше.

Косят лже-болезни,
И война опять.
Мы всё бесполезней —
Только истреблять.

Солнце светит ярко —
ЯРЧЕ С КАЖДЫМ ДНЁМ.
И начнёт ПРОЖАРКУ
Скоро — все помрём.

Но Земля остынет,
НОВЫЙ ИДИОТ
На природу хлынет —
Будет словно скот.

Здесь лишь инволюция —
Зла эксперимент:
Слушай резолюции,
Иль прищучит мент.
What Paves the Road to Hell?

"Normal" madness grips the land—
The worst of chains to bear.
Add the fools who fail to stand,
The clueless everywhere.

Three-fourths, or more, are blind and bound,
So fighting Dark is vain.
To empty minds, it "shines" profound—
As if its glow brings gain.

Yet all their faith will end in loss,
Though warnings sound anew.
Hell’s paved by goats who preach to us
With "good intentions" too.

Each stone they lay, each kindly phrase,
A bridgework strong and tight.
Believe the Dark—then run, embrace
Your Hell without a fight!



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



Nauseous, harsh, and hard to tread—
If you're not a fool misled.
Since the fools are everywhere,
Race alone—speak less, take care...



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



Beer destroys, and ***** wrecks,
As does standing in-between.
Born where all is bleak and hexed,
Yet you push on, still unseen.

Chasing after hollow "bliss"
Through the storms inside your soul,
Better clear the clouds than wish—
Bread won’t land within your bowl.

Loaves are grabbed by fiends and thieves,
Not just two—the swarm deceives.



--- Total 3 poems. ---
46 · Feb 22
The Hymn of Ruin
The Hymn of Ruin—souls can hear it,
Feel it creeping, drawing near.
If we bow to heresy's spirit,
Soon the void will claim us here.

Foolish worlds collapse to cinder,
Stone and steel will rot away.
Mindless cattle—new law’s splendor,
Branded slaves without a say.

Plague of CowID made it clearer,
Wars confirmed the fate they weave.
Gnawed and gelded, lice sing nearer—
Rotten minds in filth believe.
Mastered games,
Faked the science —
Troop of fame,
Twisted alliance.
Bright in spirit, lone ascension —
Widespread moral decomposition.


In Russian:

Всепобеждающая когорта

Мастер спорта,
Лжеучёный —
Вот когорта!
Мир "кручёный":
Яркий Духом исключенье —
Повсеместно РАЗЛОЖЕНЬЕ.
46 · Jan 30
Uncompromising
Let all deceit and all the lies,
Betrayal, hatred, genocide,
Be met with scorn—don’t compromise!
To serve the world is to abide

By rules of madness. Chase success?
Your soul will twist, your mind will break.
Stay lost, unseen—reject the mess,
Be grim, alone—for your own sake.

And in the silence, truths will rise
If you are brave and sharp of mind.
But keep them close—don’t share the prize,
For crowds are deaf, and fate is blind.


In Russian:

Огромный болт на всё ложи —
Подставы, ложь и геноцид
В безумном мире. Злу служить —
Быть гражданиной. Суицид —

Достичь "успеха": Душу тем
Ты исковеркаешь, а ум
Вдрызг испохабишь. Будь никем
Для мира, одинок, угрюм.

И в одиночестве придут
Прозренья, если чуток, смел:
Но не делись — то не поймут,
Ведь слепота толпы удел.
Boldly we will spread deception,
Sold our souls at youth’s inception.
Those with honor never dare
Turn the crowd to fools... or snare?


In Russian:

Пропагандоны и недонарод

Ложь впендюрим мы отважно,
Так как с юности продажны.
А нормальный не пойдёт
Оглуплять народ... Иль сброд?..
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Its belly heavy, its mind a weight,
The sails are filled with winds of fear,
Оn course towards a dire fate.
Reduce the load,
Thin out the mind,
Lower the sails,
And seek to find
A different goal—
A distant blue,
The Soul will yearn for that horizon true.


In Russian:

Корабль "Эго" на пути в порт "Напасти"

Пузо — грузом.
Ум — балластом.
Страх — ветрилом.
Путь — к Напастям.
Груз уменьшить,
Ум утоньшить,
Парус свесить
И приметить
Цель иную —
Голубую
ДАЛЬ. По ней Душа тоскует.
46 · Dec 2024
A Doomed Little World
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Lies are everywhere,
And the vile, unfair,
Is "the norm," they say—
The world's lost its way.


In Russian:

Пропащий мирок

Лживость всюду,
А паскуда
"Нормой" стал —
Мир пропал.
45 · Feb 24
Negative Selection
Negative Selection

"What conclusion did Voltaire, Hume and Kant finally come to? "The fact that the world is a hospital for the incurable."
—Arthur Schopenhauer.


A hospital for fools and crooks,
Who've long forgotten life’s true course:
They fight with those of their own looks,
And trust in liars with no remorse.

Man was meant to aid and brighten,
A spark divine—where has it gone?
Now he’s a donkey, beasts are driving—
A void remains, his will is none.

A few exceptions pass the test,
Yet only prove the rule once more:
They're safe while luck still grants them rest,
Not sifted through the ruthless lore.

Through that sieve the worms will stay,
The best discarded, thrown aside.
The worst will rise and seize the day—
For filth and rot will float to tide.

Age to age, the cycle runs,
A madhouse bleak, devoid of light.
No free minds—their time is done,
But glamor’s praise is shining bright.



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



Fire and Renewal

Disgrace and blood will rise once more—
For slaves, one path remains to see:
Let flames consume this wretched lore,
Burn down the world of slavery.

One world, one mind—a single way,
The rot that filled all space is gone.
Perhaps the dawn of something gray
May yet emerge and carry on.

The old holds nothing but decay,
No future left, no second breath—
Its core commandment paves the way—
A lie that drives all minds to death.



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



Nonsense and Independent Thought

Ears grew used to empty chatter,
Truth now sounds like distant noise.
Drowned in nonsense, lost its matter,
Fading reason, stolen voice.

Not a thought, but looping phrases,
Echoed views—a hollow reel.
Want to see? Just watch—he paces,
Like a donkey on a wheel.

Nonsense works to lure and bridle,
Keeps the blinders firm in place.
Even fashion takes its title
From its nonsense—mule erased...



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



Not Falling...

Who takes flight will never fall—
Rise up high and soar alone!
Sink below, you're lost to all,
Drowned among the mindless drone.

Wings of Spirit lift you higher,
Thought will trace the path ahead.
Once you've soared, they’ll pull no wire—
Down below, they'll crush instead.



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



Break It Down!

Smash the wheel—no Samsara’s chains!
A single soul won’t flee alone
From this madhouse, where remains
A world once trampled, overthrown

By vile BEASTS—so foul and rotten,
Hell itself would cast them out.
Break the walls, let none be forgotten,
Burn it all, erase the doubt.

From the shame that stains existence,
Sickened souls feel blood run cold.
Can this world fall any lower?
Rot and filth—it's uncontrolled!

But stay quiet—let them slumber,
Let their madness reach its end.
Soon their fate will tear asunder,
Soon there’s nothing left to mend.



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



A Bold Full Stop

One last dot to end the story,
Summing up a hollow life—
Rotting slowly—fades its glory,
Nothing hard in ending strife.

True conclusions live in making,
In the search for something vast.
All the rest is dust, forsaking
Truth for fear—decay holds fast.

Fools embrace their dull delusion,
Mindless hordes, the walking dead.
Ruled through fear and mass confusion,
Led by lies their keepers spread.

Thus, to place that final marker—
Like a nightmare cut in two.
Only death can end the darkness,
Only death can pull you through.

Those who feel—forever prisoned,
Life becomes a lonesome plot.
All their struggle, all their vision
Ends within one bold full stop.



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



The Fire-Breathing Dragon

A fire-breathing dragon looms—
No mere myth—it's in the "news".
Burns the mind, consumes the room,
Leaves you tame, enslaved, confused.

Flames seep in through every crack,
Reaching places dark and deep.
Trust in evil, stay off-track—
Fools will follow, blind in sleep.

Many heads this beast reveals,
Everywhere—it haunts the land.
Truth is lost, yet lies congeal
In the screen’s deceitful hand.

The fire-breathing dragon strikes,
Scorching all—the world decays.
Even laws seem weak alike—
Cheese that lures the mice to stay.



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



Disposed...

A "miracle" of utter lies—
A fool was shaped, beyond repair.
This world of madness, dressed in vice,
Deserves disposal—strip it bare.



--- Total 8 poems. ---
Tick and tock: if you're a fool,
You've fallen into the trap,
Time's not linear, it's a map
Of chaos hiding in the rule.

Listen to your heart alone,
It’s the only guide to see,
Smash the lies with clarity,
Break the chains of "linearity".


In Russian:

Ловушка псевдо-линейного времени

Тик и так: коль ты мудак,
То в ловушку ты попал —
Нелинейно время. Вал
Лжи за этим — сплошь бардак.

Сердце слушай — лишь оно
Выведет тебя из лжи.
Интуицией круши
Всё "линейности" говно.
45 · Jan 21
Nasty little world
Ah, a wretched little world:
No lessons are unfurled.
Betrayal, lies, and greed—
Its only reigning creed.


In Russian:

Гадостный мирок:
Ничего не впрок,
Кроме лжи, предательств —
Царствие стяжательств.
45 · Dec 2024
Pesky bore
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
"Yes requires repetition."
Jacques Derrida

This nagging world instills anew
The urge to bow before its lies.
It echoes loudly: "Join the queue!"
And when you say "No," it denies,

Repeats again, with shifts in tone,
Its goal: to rot your mind and soul,
To keep you chained, to keep you prone—
Obedience, the only role.

For "Yes" is servitude’s first breath.
So sharpen doubt, let it refine,
Resist decay, that creeping death,
And master it within your mind.

Let intuition light the way
And teach you oft to answer "No."
Without it, madness gains its sway,
And nonsense in your heart will grow.

A madhouse world, a rotting pit,
Infernal forces take command;
They drive the broken, crazed, unfit,
And make them cattle, meek and bland.

Behold the farce of hollow states,
Exposed through CowID’s disguise.
The sheep submit to their cruel fates,
While others fade in shame and lies.


In Russian:

Приставучая нудятина

"Да" нуждается в повторении".
Жак Деррида.


Приставучий мир внушает
Зла приятие. Опять
Это всюду повторяет.
"Нет" коль станешь отвечать,

Повторит опять, меняя
Чуть акценты, потому
Постоянно разлагает
Ум служением Дерьму,

"Да" ведь первый шаг к служенью.
Что ж, критичность умножай —
Хоть в себе так разложенье
Постепенно приструняй.

Интуиция поможет
Чаще отвечать Злу "нет!".
А иначе приумножит
Мир в тебе голимый бред.

Сумасшествие повально —
Мировой Гнилой Дурдом:
Управляет инфернальность,
Психов делая скотом,

Всюду — это псевдо-страны
Показали чрез говнид.
Подчинились все бараны;
Прочих мало — Мрак и Стыд.
From the depths of being,
Words begin to rise.
Yet the world's deceiving,
Clouding clearer skies.

Clear the path intently,
Brush the dust away!
Falsehoods pile densely,
Filling thoughts with clay.

Layers thickly cover
One ascending road—
Where the soul recovers,
Breaking mind's dark code.

It can pierce the madness,
Bring the Light anew.
Fools embrace the sadness,
Drunk on poison’s view.

Raving lies have taken
Hold of all we see.
Yet the Word awakens—
Make the pathway free!

Light is breaking, yearning,
Rushing through this call.
Hesitate—returning
Darkness drowns it all.
The wretched world submits to evil —
Its gods have perished, none are regal,
And only demons now remain,
Believed as saints — but trust in vain.

They'll pen new bibles, fool and erring,
With lies beneath their verses, glaring,
Demonic schemes in holy guise,
Yet we stay silent, close our eyes.

To shout, “This madness is absurd!”
Seems useless; we've embraced the word
Of lunacy, where lies conspire
With fascist ash and hate-lit fire.

A few still think — they're branded fools,
For reason now obeys no rules.
The dim-wit plague lays truth to waste —
Decay and Shame. What bitter taste...


In Russian:

Злу покорный мир убогий —
Посдыхали в оном боги,
И остались только черти.
В них как в праведников верьте —

Понапишут библий всяких,
Концентрируя в них враки
Сатанизма под елеем
Дикой чуши. Но не смеем

Крикнуть: "Ахинея это!" —
Мы привычны к разным бредам,
С дном, приправленным фашизмом.
Не погрязли в кретинизме

Единицы — их считают
Дураками. Разум тает —
Показал тупой говнид.
Разложенье, Жуть и Стыд...
A crownless king, a hollow blight,
Consumes the world in endless night.
Its scraps remain—a lifeless brew,
Yet fools will never seek the true.


In Russian:

Нелюдь, питающаяся глупым миром

Некоронованный король
Мир пожирает словно моль,
И лишь ошмётки остаются.
Но идиоты не очнутся...
45 · Dec 2024
Total Degradation
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Degradation: stagnation
Like a dream—madness, frustration,
Lies and fears, a restless haze,
Marking now the final phase.

Or perhaps the point of no returning
Looms ahead, its fire burning—
To Hell’s abyss, a foolish worm,
From this filth, you’ll twist and squirm.


In Russian:

Тотальная деградация

Деградация: стагнация
Как мечта — маразм, прострация,
Ложь и страхи, маета.
И последняя черта,

Или точка невозврата,
Замаячила вблизи —
В Ад Кромешный глупым гадом
Попадёшь из сей Грязи.
Winter. Frozen — not I, but my mind.
My soul, like embers, once gave me its heat.
Shards of dark thoughts in my head I find,
But to rise to Fury, I dare not compete.

Fury will warm — not a moan, but a roar,
A final cry to shake the earth’s core,
In a world where deceit is the common lore,
A world so wretched, wild, and poor.


In Russian:

Зима в душе и уме

Зима. Замёрз. Не я, а ум.
Душа как угли — грелся ею.
В уме ошмётки тяжких дум —
Подняться к Яри я не смею.

Согреет Ярость. Не мычать,
А изойтись последним криком
В мирке, обычаем где лгать, —
В мирке убогом, страшном, диком.
45 · Dec 2024
Sobriety
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
To drink → to forget →
To wake up... and regret!
From the lifeless cycle
(So many are ensnared!)
There’s a way out – at the threshold.
Through sobriety – to Freedom!


In Russian:

Трезвость

Напиться → Забыться →
Очнуться... Окститься!
Из мёртвого цикла
(Столь многие влипли!)
Есть выход — на входе.
Чрез трезвость — к Свободе!
For centuries, the human hand
Has ruled with chaos, scorched the land.
Genocide, unbridled greed—
The cat looks on, ashamed indeed!


In Russian:

Хищник кошка? Человек!
Вот уже который век
Беспредел и геноцид —
Перед кошкой ДИКИЙ стыд!..
45 · Dec 2024
The First Among Slaves
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
"The noble mind is worthy of contempt when applied to base purposes."
— Baltasar Gracián, 17th century

A lofty mind for base pursuits?!
Philosophers often spout nonsense!
For vile aims—a mind that's low.
The focus of bitter thoughts will show,

With longing for the Light above,
The Clear Mind rises. A clever ******,
Compensating for meanness and lies
With a soul in desolation, deprived,

Will be a mound among the low,
In lies and fear, they rot and grow,
Thinking "success" and gold alone
Are measures of intellect, their throne.

Such creatures always abound, you see,
For when you serve the Pure Mind, truly,
You’re unnoticed in the crowd,
For they are MAD SLAVES, bowed.

To stand "high" among the madmen, though,
One must be persistent and loud,
Stepping on heads without a care,
Indifferent to the Spirit’s flare.

Only the Spirit is the peak.
By serving it, the soul will seek
To soar in Truth's transcendent flight—
Far from the world of foolish blight,

A truth known only to the few.
Indeed, the Mind here’s but a view—
If you take things statistically
And approach all critically.


In Russian:

Первый среди рабов

"Презрения достоин высокий ум, применённый для низких целей".
Грасиан Бальтасар, XVII-ый век.


Высокий ум для низких целей?!
Философы чушь часто мелют!
Для мерзких целей — низкий ум.
Средоточеньем горьких дум,

Порывом к Свету среди них,
Ум Ясный станет. Хитрый псих,
Что с подлостью как компенсацией
Ума из-за души прострации,

Пригорком будет между низких,
Во лжи и страхе скопом скисших,
Считающих "успех" и злато
Мерилом разума. Тех гадов

Всегда навалом, потому,
Коль служишь Чистому Уму,
Ты незаметен средь толпы —
Они БЕЗУМНЫЕ РАБЫ.

"Высоким" стать среди безумных —
Настырным надо быть, и шумным,
По головам ходить бесстрашно,
Похерив Дух, несущий Ясность.

Лишь Дух вершина. Подчинённый
Ему и этим окрылённый,
Ум полетит в Прозренья — это
Столь далеко от мира бреда,

Что то поймут лишь единицы.
А впрочем, Ум здесь только мнится,
Коль взять всё среднестатистически
И подойти к всему критически.
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