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38 · Feb 16
Fear to Wake
Only terror breaks the spell—
No other way to see.
Drown in madness, face the hell,
To purge the rot and be set free.
38 · Jan 24
The True Fool
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!..
38 · Jan 28
Simple Despair
"Better wisdom in sorrow than joy in delusion."
— Epicurus


Bitter the fate for the minds that are bright,
Living with fools under devils’ dark might.
No room for talent, no call for their fire,
Save for the rare, steadfast giants that inspire.

Yet even their works are twisted and torn,
Ripped from their context, to evil reborn.
Few of the mighty remain undefiled,
Resisting commands of the crooked and vile.

Lies and deception consume every age,
Fear chains the wise in an endless cage.
Degradation spreads under genocide’s veil,
Where ghouls mock the brilliant, frail without fail.

No justice awaits for the monsters who reign,
Their cruelty unchecked, their malice profane.
Thus, what we inherit from their abyss,
Is a world obscene, devoid of bliss.



In Russian:

Простой отстой

"Лучше с разумом быть несчастным, чем без разума — счастливым".
Эпикур.


Горькая доля разумных людей
В мире глупцов, что под игом чертей:
Нет применения сил и талантов,
За исключением редких Гигантов.

Но сатанизм их труды искажает,
Вырвав с контекста, во Зло применяет.
Редкий из редких дерьмом не обмазан,
Не исполняя уродов приказы

Иль "пожелания" в тоне веленья.
В страхе, в обманах здесь все поколенья.
Путь деградации под геноцидом:
Умных третируют твари и гниды

Как захотят и без всяких последствий.
А потому получили в наследство
Мало трудов ДО ПРЕДЕЛА ДОСТОЙНЫХ
В Аде продажном, убогом, отстойном.
Interval—you're caught inside,
Pause a moment, take a rest.
Hold emotions, tame the tide,
But don’t slumber—stay your best.

Simple lesson, yet profound,
Part of walking Spirit’s way.
Precious insights can be found,
Train your soul with each new day.

Sharpened senses—grow them keen,
Truth is scarce where Falsehood thrives.
Cast off all that proves unclean,
Let the Soul alone decide.

Serving Soul—your truest aim,
Not the mind or knowledge vain.
Else you fall to Evil’s frame,
Trapped and stranded—lost again.

Stranded, madness fills the land,
Few still walk the narrow trail.
Self-reflection guides their hand—
Only that will serve you well.


In Russian:

Интервал между мыслями

Интервал: в него попал,
Задержись и отдохни!
Придержи эмоций вал,
Только в неге не засни.  

Часть Духовного Пути
Сей нехитрый опыт. В нём
Можно многое найти.
Упражняйся, с каждым днём

Множа Чуткость, ведь её
Не хватает в Мире Лжи —
Так отринешь всё Гнильё,
Станешь лишь Душе служить.

А служение Душе,
Не уму, Познанья цель.
Остальное — Зла клише:
Купишься — твой путь на мель.

На мели безумный мир —
Единицы лишь в Пути:
Интроспекция кумир
Там единый, то учти.
"A man has worth only when he holds a view his own."
— Voltaire.


The world’s reversed: your worth’s the cash you claim,
While borrowed thoughts infest your hollow mind.
"Neurotic!"—those who think, they earn the blame,
And find themselves in filth confined.

For wealth, clear vision is a needless flaw,
A daring gaze becomes a heavy chain.
Greed shrinks the mind, corrupting all it saw,
As ****** beasts within remain.

The youthful spark, once lit by fleeting light,
Is smothered as the years decay the soul.
And thus the fool, enmeshed in petty plight,
Becomes a slave to shallow, sordid goals.


In Russian:

Деградация личности при погоне за деньгами

"Человек чего-то стоит только тогда, когда он имеет свою собственную точку зрения".
Вольтер.


Мир-перевёртыш: сколько денег —
Ты столько стоишь. А в "уме"
Чужие взгляды. "Неврастеник" —
Кто мыслит сам; всегда в дерьме:

Контрпродуктивно для баблишки
Иметь свой ясный, смелый взгляд.
Скудеют в алчности умишки,
И постепенно пошлый гад

На место юного приходит,
Который Свет слегка узрел.
И дальше дурень колобродит
Средь мелких шкурных пошлых дел.
38 · Jan 21
"Freedom of speech"
"Freedom of speech"—a hollow word,
A decoration, naught but show:
Just glitter on a cage for bird,
Like frosting on a cake of woe...


In Russian:

"Свобода слова" бестолкова —
Декоративная она:
Лишь смазка на стальных оковах.
Как крем на торте из говна...
38 · Dec 2024
Surviving to Sacrifice
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
We all must SURVIVE!
CREATURES will pressure us,
With their endless, ****** survival—
Leading Souls to the slaughter,
Guided together as one.
Lies and fears, total and pure,
Fill the air, a grim allure.
Like on the scaffold, the world insane,
Bent by foolish, rigid chains.
And from these fears, the Mind lies in ruins—
Except for rare exceptions,
In this age of disconnections,
Where generations suffer from decay,
Driving the masses to dismay,
Unable to awaken:
Before Hell, they bend and break,
Further still, they'll sink and crawl.
Their future's like lemmings, bound to fall,
Group by group, they near the cliff.
They’ll jump to the abyss by order—
Idiots believe the media’s borders,
As if they believe in God.
The world stinks from the ***** of propaganda—
They showed it in Cow-ID.
Stop surviving, now, I say—
Think of saving the Soul today:
A Cataclysm approaches fast—
It will sweep away the rotten, fascist past,
Universal, relentless, and blind—
The fool in humility, aligned
To walk the path to a New Hell.
There are Spiritual Realms to dwell,
For universal Resistance, bright
Like a fairy tale, a guiding light.
Sensitive, honest hearts will find
A place in the fight, to heal the mind,
Saving the Soul by this alone—
Listen to the Psyche, in Hell, overthrown.
It’s alchemy—hard to speak,
In the verse so bleak.
Leave the Corrupt Hell behind,
If you are not the evil kind.


In Russian:

Выживанием на заклание

Надо всем нам ВЫЖИВАТЬ!
ТВАРИ будут напрягать
Вечно пошлым выживаньем —
Этим Души на закланье
Будут скопом направлять.
Ложь тотальная сплошь страхи
Навевает. Как на плахе
Мир безумный и покорный
От шаблонов этих вздорных.
А от страхов Ум весь в прахе —
Кроме редких исключений
Средь ущербных поколений,
Что во власти деградации,
Что ведёт всю чернь к прострации,
Невозможности очнуться:
Перед Адом больше гнуться
Будут дальше. Перспективы
Как у леммингов к обрыву
Подошедших кучной массой.
В пропасть прыгнут по приказу —
Верят СМРАДам идиоты
Словно в бога. От блевоты
Пропаганды мир смердит —
Показали то в говнид.
Прекращай же выживать —
Думай, Душу как спасать:
Наступает Катаклизм —
Он сметёт гнилой фашизм,
Что всемирен. Дурень см'ирен —
В Новый Ад тем путь отмерен.
Есть Духовные Пространства,
Для Всемирного Засранства
Словно сказка. Чуткий-честный
Обретёт борьбою место
В них, спасая этим Душу —
Лишь Психею в Аде слушай.
То алхимия — в стихе
Трудно молвить. Налегке
Покидай Тлетворный Ад,
Коль не Злу покорный гад.
38 · Feb 11
So-Called Scientists
So-Called Scientists

Newton’s laws won’t light the way,
Second’s just a dull cliché.
Force? An abstract, crude distortion,
Spreading lies in full proportion.

Pseudoscience rots the brain,
Meant for fools—its prime domain.
Faith, not thought, they take as guiding,
Thus, to Hell, the doors swing wider.

Hell seeps in through half-truths, fables,
Smashing Truth beneath its tables.
Spirit's wiped from all their lore—
"Knowledge" fit for flies and more.

Spirit forms the world's foundation,
Science sells it for damnation.
Fear and nonsense shape their quota—
Just like CowID... their own quota.


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



We serve for gold, with **** we mingle,
Yet fear alone drives all our ways.
The soulless lords need slaves to swindle,
While "God’s own serf" finds hell his praise.



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



Cain and Abel, Magdalene—
Tales for fools, a dull routine.
Want some horror? Here you go:
Christ’s own blood in wine will flow...



--- Total 3 poems. ---
38 · Jan 27
Expanding Perception
The prison of sight—
A cursed, narrow blight.
A world confined,
Where thought is blind;
The soul stands lone,
No god to own.
But God is Light,
A boundless height—
Break free, take flight!


In Russian:

Расширение восприятия

Тюрьма восприятья —
Злых ТВАРЕЙ проклятье:
Зауженный мир —
В нём ум наг и сир;
Душа одинока
В отсутствии бога.
Бог — Светлая Ширь:
Пределы расширь!
37 · Jan 26
Samizdat
He breaks on immortality,
The poet dives to Hell anew.
Why strive for truth or clarity
When few the soulful lines pursue?

If verses blaze with raw intensity,
Or prose escapes the common sphere,
They rarely pierce the world's insensitivity,
A realm of greed and shallow cheer.

No "literary" grand progression,
Just darkness, silenced by a press—
The SMRAD* churns out its procession
Of noise, deceit, and vile excess.

They amplify the base, the sordid,
And bury sparks of daring thought.
No space for Brightness—Truth’s aborted,
While filth and flattery are sought.

The masses, dull, demand their poison:
"Samizdat? Why, such dreams are fraught!"
And yet, within its fragile cloister,
How much has vanished, left to rot.

For ages now, the game’s been halted,
The world put firmly on mute gears:
Not Stenka here, but bloated, faulted
Gargantua commands their cheers.


Notes:
SMRAD—Resources of Mass Advertising, Agitation, and Disinformation.
Stenka—Stenka (Stepan) Razin, a Russian historical figure.



In Russian:

Самиздат

"И где-то с криком непогашенным
Под хохот и аплодисменты
В пролет судьбы уходит Гаршин,
Разбившись мордой о бессмертье".
Леонид Губанов, "Полина", 1963 г.


Разбившись мордой о бессмертие,
Поэт, писатель в Новый Ад
Спускается. К чему усердие?
Лишь редкий Чуткий виршам рад,

Когда накал в них запределен.
А проза, коль не ширпотреб,
Обычно редко бьёт по цели
Средь мира жалких непотреб.

Литературного процесса
В дни мрачные в помине нет:
Мирок находится под прессом
Тотальных СМРАДов — гонят бред

Они, раскрутят только мерзость,
Что попадает в общий ряд.
В загоне Яркость, Честность, Дерзость —
Елей с чернухой жрёт покорный гад.

Не гадов средь народцев мало:
Литература? — самиздат!
И в нём немало уж пропало
В забвении — всем Ярким мат!

А шах поставили давненько,
На паузу поставив мир:
Гаргантюа ведь в нём, не Стенька,
Убожества гнилой кумир.


Примечания. СМРАД — средства массовой
рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.
Стенька — Стенька (Степан) Разин.
To probe into despair—
A task beyond compare—
For fools, it’s just confusion.
Yet mock no such intrusion,

For sorrow is a guide:
It whispers, far and wide,
"Since birth, you’ve been a pawn,
A slave till light has dawned."

The soul, confined and battered,
In anguish, sinks and shatters.
A feeble mind enchains
Itself with endless pains.

But wonder lies in peering
Within, through truth’s engineering:
Inspect the layers of lies,
A clearer path will rise.

And there, you might uncover,
Deceptions to recover.
The Alchemy of Soul—
Embrace it, make it whole!


In Russian:

Интроспекция, или Алхимия Души

Исследовать тоску —
Расстройство простаку —
Задача непростая.
И зря расстройства хают,

Ведь это индикатор:
У ТВАРЕЙ на подхвате
Ты с детства — в рабстве мир,
И ложный в нём кумир

Всегда. Душа в загоне —
В тоске отсюда тонет.
Коль скован куцый ум,
То много тяжких дум.

Есть чудо интроспекции:
Отвалов Лжи инспекцию
В уме, в Душе пройди —
Прозренья впереди

Тогда найдёшь, быть может,
Обманы подытожив.
Алхимия Души —
В неё уйти спеши!..
37 · Dec 2024
In the Dark
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
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.
"The attempt to create heaven on earth inevitably leads to the creation of hell."
— Karl Popper


We build as one! No disarray,
We won't tolerate the stray!
For clever folks, we'll set a lesson,
Slice their bread and count the blessing.

If oppression’s seen as the means,
"All for good," they say — they build the scene.
Decay, unyielding, in this march,
A vile force reigns, cold and starch.

For one who knows the gears of doom,
Genocide their aim and room!
But in the crowd, the fool’s delight,
The STENCH they feast on day and night.

For those poor fools, the soft path lies,
It hurts to fall. But there’s a prize:
The honest, wise, they'll grind away,
And others will be beasts to sway.



In Russian:

Советский, и не только, горький опыт

"Попытка создать рай на земле неизбежно приводит к созданию преисподней".
Карл Поппер.


Дружно строим! Разнобоя
Не потерпим: строим рай!
Взбучку умникам устроим,
Им урезав каравай.

Если средством угнетенье,
Пусть "во благо", — строят Ад.
Неотступно разложенье
В строе этом — правит гад

Тот, что знаем механизмы
Геноцида — он есть цель!
Но в толпе идиотизмы
СМРАДов для тупых Емель.

Тем Емелям мягко стелют.
Падать больно — но потом:
Честных-умных перемелют,
Прочих сделают скотом.


СМРАД - средства массовой
рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.
37 · Feb 25
Family Crash
Family Crash

A family's wreck—its cause is plain,
Kids born of past delights now pay.
That wreck’s their burden, marked by pain—
"Success!" they hear from day to day.



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



Doubt

"To doubt is to show reverence for truth."
—Ernest Renan


The mindless herd repeats, on cue,
A set of phrases, dull and plain.
But doubt can tear their world in two—
Their empty chants would be in vain.

To plant a doubt in such a mass
Is near impossible—why try?
Their world is built on lies, alas,
For truth would make their small minds die.

And should you speak, the blind will fight—
Truth’s fate is bleak in such a land.
But if you never doubt what’s "right",
Then shame on you—you misunderstand.



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



Museum’s Spirit?

Like a crypt…
Walls are cold.
Gallery—
A painter, old,

Blind with rage,
Mind decayed.
Light's not caged—
It's self-conveyed.

Let it shine
Deep inside!
Call the blind:
"Wake with pride!"

Shape the core,
Dare to fight!
Twist the "wrong"—
But keep it right!



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



Fierce Demise

Dissenting minds—but none to think,
"Soul’s deep urges"—soulless cries.
We freeze like systems on the brink,
Drowned in gigabytes of lies.

We fail to grasp, yet pass it down,
So children grow still more unwise.
Forever lost in filth we drown—
False hopes and demons’ thin disguise.

No heart, no mind—this plague has spread,
A few escaped, the rest obey.
We bow with ease, our wills near dead,
Too used to crawling to dismay.

On bended knees, we wait in vain—
What’s left to come? The final breath.
No hymn will reach the wrathful flame—
Armageddon spawns Fierce Death.



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



Toxic "Culture"

"At least bacterial cultures can be seen under a microscope."
—Jadwiga Rutkowska

I stocked up scopes—both micro, stetho,
Telescopes to aid my quest.
I sought for culture—found but echoes
Of lies and filth the germs expressed.

Fake virtues mask a foul regime,
Where fascists play the righteous role.
A second layer—hell’s own scheme,
A lid of brass to cloak it whole.

They'll seal the world—farewell, "refinement"!
I searched in vain, and here it ends.
No foolish bullet brings confinement—
Armageddon kills, my friends.



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



Economic Cattle

Market games—a grand disguise...
How to yoke the herd so nice,
Make it walk into the chain,
Thinking it’s their rightful gain?

Oh, so simple—reshape all,
Craft a world where slaughter stalls
Seem removed (but wars suffice),
Turn the market into vice.

Choice is scarce—so grab the yoke,
Drag your kin to stay afloat.
Step inside the penned-up toil—
Earn your fodder, drown in oil.



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



Sieve

"With most new acquaintances, our first thought is whether they may be of use to us; and if they are not, then for most people, once they realize this, that person becomes nothing."
—Arthur Schopenhauer


I walk—meet nothing on my way,
Then more of nothing—endless rows.
The world’s a sieve, where few can stay,
The rest fell through, lost far below.

Those who could shake this void of spite,
Who saw the roots of all decay,
Were cast aside—denied the right
To live, not use and throw away.

We've learned too well this hollow game,
And so the sieve expands its hole.
Few strings remain, yet all the same,
They, too, will vanish with the whole.



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



Infernal Sumo

The "sumo champs" have seized the ring,
Pushed the rest beyond the line.
Yet the fallen, wavering,
Claim forgiveness—lost in mind.

Fat and shameless, crude and sly,
Rules the ring with pompous glee.
Thinkers? Worthless. Question why?
"Skinny flies" aren’t meant to be.

Circle Nine—or is it lower?
Does it matter? Hard to tell.
Those outside grow weak, sink slower
In the fat ones' lying hell.



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



Diagnosis

Is the world a whining wreck,
Or a doctor telling true?
Drunks and fools—just check the specs—
Three in four. The math is crude.

A simple test, a dumb Cow-ID,
Unmasked the minds—exposed the show.
Even the doctor feels defeated...
The world’s near nothing. Now we know.



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



Hell’s Despair

"This world is the work of some devil who called creatures into being just to savor their torment."
—Arthur Schopenhauer


So bleak, so hollow,
Disgraced from the start.
A wretched creator,
A slave in his heart.

The traitors rise higher,
Deception rules minds,
The blind led by liars,
All twisted in kind.

They fight one another—
Their anguish must flow,
To feed their dark master,
Corrupting below,
Instilling pure fury,
Instilling pure woe.



--- Total 10 poems. ---
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.
37 · Dec 2024
Stupidity
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
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...
37 · Feb 2
The Wheel’s Torment
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...
37 · Jan 18
Cinema Brotherhood
In films, propaganda blazes,
It's paid for, bold and loud,
While fools consume, their reason grazes,
Their souls and minds enshroud.

But artists—be they poets, writers—
Are harder to confine,
To bridle them with nonsense tighter,
Takes a crippled mind malign.

The gullible trust the screen’s delusion,
And numb their reason more,
Today, in cats, there's more conclusion,
Than humans’ minds explore.

Truth’s scarce—a rare and fleeting ember—
These times are ruled by lies,
Art fades away, lost to dismember,
The world sinks as it dies.


In Russian:

Кино-братия

Пропаганда в фильмах яро
Проступает, потому
Им и платят, а лошары
Зрят в ущерб Душе, уму.

Коль художник, будь поэтом
Иль писателем — на них
Потрудней Уздечку Бреда
Натянуть. Убогий псих

Верит бредням, что в киношках,
Добивая этим ум:
И сегодня больше в кошках
Разуменья. Лжи здесь бум,

Непродажных очень мало —
Вот такие времена.
И уже почти пропало
Всё искусство — мир у Дна.
37 · Dec 2024
Dissolution of the World
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Subject, object — nonsense, gloom.
We’re ruled by fears and lies,
Boundless is the Spiritual Realm.
If your mind’s not left behind,

Then yield it to the Spirit’s sway,
For Spirit’s triumph will display
How the wretched world dissolves—
Like rotten cheese in a trap’s jaws.


In Russian:

Растворение мира

Subject, object — чушь и мрак.
Мы под властью страхов, врак.
Без границ Духовный Мир.
Если разум твой не сир,

Подчини тогда его
Духу. Духа торжество
Растворит убогий мир —
В мышеловке тухлый сыр.
37 · Feb 1
Cargo Eight Hundred
The fallen march to silent graves,
While fools defile the land in waves,
Still loyal to the monsters' lies,
Still blind to truth before their eyes.

Like poison gas, they spread deceit,
Bend them with madness—watch them kneel.
Obeying orders, they proceed—
Who needs plastid? We had CowID.

A mindless horde, a crushing tide,
Will trample reason, far and wide.
A global camp they build with pride—
Just needles, crosses glowing white.

And if you dare to think, beware—
The wise grow rare, but fools are there.
And should you stand against the flood,
Prepare to pay—condemned in blood.

The crippled world will test and break
The slaves it breeds—how much they take,
Until the final storm descends,
And sweeps away this dark pretense.


In Russian:

Груз восемьсот

Груз двести следует в могилы.
Груз восемьсот: Земли дебилы
Повсюду гадят на поверхность,
Храня обманам ТВАРЕЙ верность.

Как химоружие они:
Безумной ложью их нагни,
И всё исполнят, то говнид
Нам показал. Какой пластид?!

Дебилы массой огромадной
Задавят Разум беспощадно,
Построив Лагерь Мировой —
Уколы, а над головой

На белом фоне красный крест.
И если посмотреть окрест,
То очень редко умных встретишь.
Коль умный ты, за то ответишь

Пред новым обЧеством убогим.
Там суд над умным будет строгим:
Как в революцию — в расход.
Останется послушный сброд.

Поставит Тьма эксперименты
Над глупым сбродом до момента,
Когда сметёт всё Катаклизм —
Рабов убогих и фашизм.


Груз 200 - убитые во время войны.
Груз 800 - химическое и бактериологическое оружие, другие виды оружия массового поражения.
37 · Jan 22
The Search
I'm drunk, a lantern by my side,
I search for keys I lost in night.
From darkness comes a friend’s loud cry—
He’s fallen in a ditch, oh my.

This is the search for Light in dark,
While lanterns lead us on to Hell.
For on the cross, no truth will spark—
The knave will use lies as his spell.

The lantern’s power holds so tight,
When Sun is gone, it rules the night.
Under its glow, seek out the truth—
Why must the filth in ditches lie?

Does this road lead to Hell’s cruel door?
Who set the lanterns everywhere?
One stands apart, awaits the dawn—
The Morning Star, his soul laid bare.


In Russian:

Поиск

Я пьян. Фонарь. Ищу ключи,
Хоть в темноте их потерял.
Из темноты мой друг кричит —
В канаву он, дурак, упал.

Вот поиск Света в Темноте,
А фонари дорогу в Ад
Подсветят, ведь не на кресте —
Лже-знаньем распинает Гад.

Фонарь большой авторитет,
Коль нету Солнца, потому
Под фонарём ищи ответ,
Зачем в канавах быть дерьму,

Ужель дорога в Ад ведёт,
Кто водрузил все фонари.
Один, в сторонке, Чуткий ждёт
Явленья Утренней Зари.
The lies never cease—
But dare not disturb their "sacred" beliefs.
They lead all the fools,
No shackles, no rules,

To slaughter, like sheep.
They march in too deep,
For such is their fate
When trust seals their gate.


In Russian:

Пиздёж, но его "святыни" не трожь

Сплошь бодрый пиздёж —
"Святыни" не трожь:
Ведут дураков
Без всяких оков

В загоны, на бойни.
Бараны достойны
Такого исхода,
Коль верят уродам.
37 · Dec 2024
The Hidden World Dictator
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
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.
36 · Feb 21
Genocide
Burattino roams once more,
Chasing fields of golden store.
Fools won’t learn—they always fall,
Traps and tricks await them all.



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



"AIDS" won’t sleep—it spreads like fire,
Gullibility is dire.



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



Feint, then strike—the goal is hit,
Keeps dull Emelyas glued to it.



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



Chasing chimeras,
March on, young bearers!



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



Cain and Abel,
Evil and jest—
Lies wrapped in labels,
Madness at best.



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



A pastor preaching...
"Thou shalt not ****?"
Die like a hero,
Shoot—he’s the chill.



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



Roses, dreams—but threats come creeping,
I resist, yet far too many.
In the end, there’s tears and weeping—
Ostrich-madness, fear uncanny.



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



Genocide

The public gasps in disbelief—
So many lost, so much grief.
Yet bled dry, the land decays—
Just a whim in madness’ gaze.



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



State Secret

No secrets here—just crimes to trace,
Yet trails are gone, no court, no case.

For madness, slaughter—none will pay,
Yet fools trust leaders day by day.

CowID unmasked their rotten core—
The vilest spawn, the filth, the gore.
Still, blindness hides what all should see—
The willful fraud in tyranny.



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



Winnie’s Quest

Winnie sets off, chasing honey,
Craves it more than fear or pain.
Sweet addiction drives him running,
Lost in paths that twist in vain.

Generations walk the same way,
Signs mislead them—tricks and lies.
Every road just ends in mayhem,
Make your own—don’t trust disguise.

Fake or real, just keep it ready,
Sip your tea, enjoy the ride.
In your den, alone but steady,
No need for some bunny guide.

Few will take the road less taken,
Mind and soul must light the track.
Fools stay lost, confused, mistaken—
Wisdom never turns one back.



--- Total 10 poems. ---
The Path to a Distant Land

The fascist lie, a shroud so tight,
Keeps minds in chains, obscures the light,
It molds the fools in fearful ranks,
And drives them deep to terror’s banks.

Their hollow cries grow wild, insane,
A twisted choir of grief and pain…
Yet still they march, yet still they kneel—
Blind to the fate they help to seal.



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



Mammoth

Mammoth gone? No, mammoth stays!
Lies still guide his twisted ways.
Since the rules were first decreed—
Only he may learn and lead.

All alone, he claims the right,
Blind to truth beyond his sight.
Scorns the sense that whispers near,
Yet without it—lost in fear.

Sense is light, but he obeys
Black-and-white, the mind’s decay.
Trapped in logic, cold and grim,
Doom is certain, bound to him.

Falsehood fades, its time is done,
Truth will rise with morning’s sun.
A new world will shape and grow—
Where intuition reigns to know.



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



Cupid and the Riders of the Apocalypse

Cupid, fool, your aim is wrong—
Love, when all won’t last for long?
Hooves are pounding, cold as stone,
Be their herald—ride, be gone!

Let your wings bring news to those
Pure of heart, still sensing fate.
See and check—the end soon shows.
Curse it loud, but don’t be late!



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



The Eternal Song of Blatherskite

Suicide’s a wicked sin—
A waste of meat, yet he keeps driving
The herds to slaughter, kith and kin,
For ages—Blatherskite’s surviving.

He shifts his shape, he hides his face,
Yet still his song remains the same.
A traitor dares to shun the race
Of chains, enclosures, death, and shame.



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



Roulette of Pseudo-Life

Odd and even, even, odd—
Yet this roulette seems so flawed:
Whole numbers spin—oh, can't you see?
I would rather bet on Pi.

Golden ratio haunts my mind,
Not a day it stays behind.
Every thought comes back to Phi,
While the world just sighs: "Oh my!"

Cash and status rule the game—
Roulette’s flaw remains the same.
So I place it all on zero,
Though it shines, it isn’t hero.

"Yes" or "no"—a mere machine,
But the world is in between.
Trust your senses, look around—
See the shades that can't be found…



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



Twist Them Tight!

"The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure, and the intelligent are full of doubt."
— Bertrand Russell


No doubt! No fear! March on, be bold!
Our leader guides us to pure gold.
And if you’re not with us—beware!
He’ll raise his hand and shout: "Go tear!"

We’ll hunt them down, we’ll break their backs,
We’ll chase them, sniff out all their tracks.
Those clever fools—we’ll make them pay,
They’re spineless worms—so bend, obey!

Twist them tight and don’t delay!
Drag the nearest **** away!
A worthy foe is what we lack—
Once all those thinkers hit the sack,

Once madhouse doors and jails are filled,
We’ll march ahead, we won’t be stilled.
Against outsiders, strike and burn—
Our flag will fly, our ways will turn

Into the norm for mindless sheep
Who trust the lies, obey, don’t weep.
And those who dare to doubt—beware!
The weak in war have no place there.



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



Brutodrome

Glad to serve!
Why observe
All those foolish dreams of mind?
In the FILTH, I'm feeling fine!

Bow and follow, praise the lie,
Evil wears a saintly guise.
Eat, breed, babble—don’t ask why,
Live it up—till no one dies…



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



Distilling Rot into Rant

The system rots—it’s nothing new,
For centuries, we’ve watched it stew.
But now the rot itself has fled,
All that remains is stench and RANT.

Beyond this RANT, so few survive,
Once more, we’ll build—bring back to life
A world that’s torn, consumed by blight,
Worn-out, exhausted, drained of light.



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



Humans and Humanoids

Ego will lead you into the void,
A hollow world, so loud, yet empty.
The worthy few stand unalloyed—
But who is real, and who pretends be?

It isn’t hard to tell apart—
Their eyes will shine or stare so lifeless.
Divided deep, in soul and heart,
Though outward marks are blurred and sightless.

That emptiness… it weighs us down,
Without paradox, life’s just fiction.
Darkness will claim its rightful crown—
CowID’s the test: the mice show friction.



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



Chemtrails Reflect the Sun’s Fierce Rays

They spray the skies with chemtrail streams,
Not at night—so faint, they fade from sight…
By day, a silver veil redeems
The air from sunlight’s burning might.

The raging Sun keeps turning cruel,
Its scorching beams will leave no trace—
It burns the world, no shade, no fuel,
A prelude to the End of Days.

And fools stand blind—they cannot see,
No thought, no reason, none will heed.
The ones who think—not just agree—
Are cast aside by fools and freaks.

For those who know, one path remains:
A Spirit’s Road beyond this lie.
When this zoo burns in crimson flames,
Their souls will flee to worlds on high.



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



A Touch of "Madness" for True Knowing

The Mine of Death—
A well of lies.
Go test it, lest
You pay the price.

The mind goes blind
In halls of lore—
But cracked, it finds
A sharper core.

Less of "facts"—
More sense, more feel.
All true knowledge
Drips, not spills.

Yet intuition, strong and wise,
May turn the trickle to a tide.



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



Marine and "Nerd"

Marines—
They win.
The troops—
All in.
The "nerd"—a joke,
A pawn, a clown.
The bureaucrat—
He wears the crown.

A traitor’s praised,
A king of lies.
— Who needs the Lyre?
— It slowly dies...

The scholar, the crook,
The jester in power—
They poison the souls,
Make masses cower.

Deception reigns,
Truth is denied.
Who needs the Lyre?
Their life’s designed—
From bistro to the latrine aligned...



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



"School"—So They Say

Memory overload’s the key—
To rot the school intentionally.
A fool’s no fluke, but just the rule,
As nonsense turns the mind to gruel.

And all the manners, all the grace—
Just tricks to keep deep thoughts erased.



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



Rejecting Evil

We resist—yet we obey,
Bound by fear, we walk astray.
Then we stumble all our lives,
Turning all the world to dust.

Evil’s vast, corrupts the soul,
To reject it makes us whole.
Dare to stand, refuse to bend—
Cast the Darkness to its end.



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



Intuition

To wake from coma—
Means to rise,
Leave the familiar
World behind.

Step toward Spirit—
Life is there.
Sense it, feel it—
Poets dare.

Push perception
To the brink.
Hard at first?
Just act—don’t think.

Mind surrenders,
Turns to steel.
Not by learning,
But to feel.

Answers come
Through keen insight,
Crushing nonsense
With its light.

Rant is coma—
Time to wake!
World’s a tumor—
Bend, you break.



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



The Upside-Down Mountain

The pit grows deeper—digging down,
Still chasing bedrock, far below.
It’s damp and dark, no light, no ground,
Yet miners toil—their task is so.

The money flows? Then dig with pride!
They’ll carve a hole both vast and grand.
And books will tell the kids in time:
"That mountain once stood tall and planned."

A new pit comes, and youth will learn
To dig once more, to carve the past.
And doubts will fade, as echoes turn:
"Those men were heroes to the last!"



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



"Choice"

A squirrel runs—round and round.
They shout: "You’re free to choose!"
Yet in her mind, so tightly bound,
Lies nothing but obtuse.

Pick a bar—you get to choose
Which one will keep you spinning.
Trapped in lies, they chase the ruse,
Convinced that they are winning.

Young ones learn to jump and race,
Never pause, just keep on striving.
No one dares to say: this "choice"
Is nothing but conniving.



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



Sheep’s Strong Bonds

The ram obeys—his shepherd near,
No fear of staff, no horn to chide.
So too with men—through faith or fear,
They're bound by God and laws as guide.



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



To the Artist

Forget the crowd, the board, their praise—
It's better to write and let it stay.
No need to bend, no need to stray—
Eternal works may find their way.

For watching the masses, fearing their call,
Where slaves are many—free minds are few,
Will turn the artist, the writer, them all,
To traitors lost—their talent through.



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



Entertaining Chemistry, or "Nature’s Crown"

This chemistry is quite the art—
Not for school, but for the feast.
They twist our minds, they tear apart,
And turn the crowd into a beast.

The dumbing down that schools begin,
The rotten media refine.
Forget your will, give up, give in—
Your mind is nearly out of time.

For reason fades where fools are vast,
And idiots now set the tone.
Free thought? Too rare—it couldn’t last.
And fascist claws keep growing strong.

The future? None. A twisted tale
That nears its grim and final part.
We’re not the same, we’re bound to fail—
The crown will rot, then fall apart.



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



Amidst the Filth...

The heroes took another way
And lived a little more than most.
Now only **** and rot remain—
Dark years ahead, a heavy cost.

The CowID, the war, the stage is set,
The filth expands, the chains grow tight.
With bravery gone, the Spirit spent,
There's no one left to stand and fight.



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



The Dead, or The World Unmasked

No disguise—just "FAS!"—the call,
And fools rush in without a doubt.
Fascism suits us, after all—
The dead now freely walk about.

The living lost, the dead run wide—
No thrill or feast can break the spell.
And in their joy, they **** their ride—
For walking corpses, all is well.



--- Total 22 poems. ---
36 · 3d
The Only Choice
The Core of It All

You can punch your neighbor’s face—
Cops are harder to abase.
Let the slaves release their steam—
That’s the core of every scheme.



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



The Only Choice

To choose your chains—your will must bend,
All else is lies they preach and send.
A false choice fools the blind and weak—
Life reduced to hollow bleak.

But once you make the choice that's true,
Say "No!" and let your soul break through,
Life won’t twist to “either-or,”
Your path is clear, your heart knows more.

You'll hear the voice you need inside,
The truth that whispers, pure and bright.
The Monad speaks—its light will guide,
And through the dark, you’ll find your sight.

No light in chains—just endless night,
No way back once you take flight.
Stand like a rock midst evil’s game—
And laugh at choices built on shame.



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



The Hard Search for "Good"

"Think of something bright!"—
Hard to see the light,
Once you've grown up tall
And don't lie at all.

Truth became your guide,
Yet the world is bad—
Hell was set as home
Since the day you had.



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



The Slaughterhouse

Trust in the twisted, obey and consume,
Stack up your money, toil till you’re through.
Poison the world into filth and doom—
Outer and inner—one follows two.

Fear and deception will shrink every soul,
Like leather worn till it’s brittle and tight.
Once it collapses, the sheep as a whole
March to the slaughterhouse—lined up just right.

Wars full of meat, yet too few remain,
Drunk on the poison, we stumble and fall.
Ravaging nature, we lost all but shame—
Mere tools in the grip of devils tall.



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



Prometheus

Your life’s a chain, a doomed crusade,
Like Prometheus, betrayed.
An eagle tears your soul apart—
By devil’s will, it plays its part.

They call themselves the gods of fire,
Yet rule through greed and dark desire.
"Success" is just a downward climb—
A pyramid of filth and grime.

To steal the Flame—of all the crimes,
None worse exists in cursed times.
But if you share it, truth will rise,
And burn deceit before their eyes.

Betrayal fuels the ones on top,
Their lies demand you kneel and stop.
Submission, faith in hollow lore—
The food that feeds the wretched floor.

For those below, there’s no release,
Just rot disguised as life and peace.
A swarm of lice in filth confined,
In hellish muck, yet calling it life.



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



Idiocy

"Idiocy protects from suicide."
—David Durkheim

Despair that drowns you, deep and stark,
When all feels rotten, cold, and dark,
Where even pillows seem like blades—
The fate of those whose soul still fades.

But fools? They have no weight to bear,
No thoughts that pull them to despair.
Their "happiness" is safe and sweet—
Work, get married, chase receipts.

Stack up cash, embrace your fears,
Stay blind to madness through the years.
Yet all will wake upon the block—
Death and rot, the final shock.

A world where idiots suppress
The ones who think—their minds compressed.
Through lies, the masters guide their course—
A sugar-coated whip, of course.



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



The Difference Between Steaming Off and Burning

"All the darkness in the universe cannot extinguish a single candle."
—Chinese Proverb

Ignite! Burn bright! Let flames arise,
And light up countless kindred eyes.
This is your answer to the slaves
Who sold their souls in shadowed caves.

The dark has swallowed many whole,
Yet fire can't be chained or tamed.
A spirit pure, a burning soul—
Won't rot among the weak and maimed.

Let flames engulf, let fire spread,
For Spirit’s strength will never break.
But cowards only vent their steam—
And fade into the dark they make.



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



You're burning up? Well, what a plight—
The body sees no need for flame.
It craves its meals, its luck, its might,
And keeps its schedule just the same—
Or skips a meal to stay so light.



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



Almost a Workout...

For relief—just exercise.
Better yet—run for your life!
New world order, no disguise—
Demons build a slave’s delight.



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



Through the Dream strides, cold and grim,
Armageddon, dark and dim.
Those who wake—beware the fight!
Those asleep—hail chains so tight.



--- Total 10 poems. ---
36 · Feb 12
Arrow of Aspirations
Striped in black and gray, life passes,
Crosswise lines—a cage we weave.
Dreams shoot forward, bright as flashes,
But to reach them—must believe.

Burn the norms, the stripes, the clutter,
Leave them all in flames to fade.
Trapped, we sink in ashen gutter,
Lost within the Hellish Shade.
Sick of nonsense—
Price two cents.
Crushed before it meets the day.
Hellish schemes work one sure way:
Drown the mind in empty lies,
**** the soul that dares to rise.


In Russian:

Чушь достала —
В ней пропало
Очень много начинаний.
Главный метод адской срани —
Отвлекти умы на чушь
Для гнобленья наших душ.
A veteran of boundless strife,
Where Souls and Reasons clash with "life",
You, O poet, earn your name,
If truths you tell burn like a flame.

While savage “nations” trust in lies,
And strike their kin beneath dark skies,
You forge ahead through trials vast,
Toward the Light, despite the blast.

May Fortune bless your noble fight,
Through evil’s dark and endless night.
The brave and truthful will not yield,
Nor join the fools on their foul field.

A poet’s soul cannot betray—
Better to blaze, then fade away,
Than bow before the madness spun,
By Beasts who thrive when Evil is done.


In Russian:

Поэт и перманентная война с Разумом

Ветеран тотальных боен,
Тех что с разумом ведут,
Ты, поэт, всегда достоин,
Коль стихи твои не врут.

Одичалые "народы"
Верят лжи и ближних бьют.
Ты стремишься сквозь невзгоды
К Свету чрез упорный труд.

Пусть удача улыбнётся
На твоём чрез Зло пути.
Чуткий-честный не сдаётся:
В Лагерь с дурнями идти

Невозможно для поэта —
Лучше ярко умереть,
Не принявши мира бреда,
Что усилят ТВАРИ впредь.
36 · Dec 2024
"Songs and Dances"
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
"Songs and dances" on command,
By advice or helping hand,
For the monsters in their masks,
Dancing on the bones grasp.


In Russian:

"Песни-пляски" по указке,
По совету и подсказке,
Для уродов, тех что "в каске".
На "костях" ума те "пляски".
36 · Dec 2024
Slavery
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
The whole world toils for food each day:
All exceptions — a mere ERROR.
But the masses, lost in their dismay,
Cry out, "Freedom, choice." Security? —

An exception: to frighten, to sway
The slaves with lies and provocations —
And so, they tighten the leash, they play
The monsters, in fear and frustration.

In fear and confusion, they dwell—
And make that their norm of existence.
To empty ideologies they fell,
Now rotting minds in blind resistance.

No hope for salvation, no way out:
A Cataclysm will break this chain.
The slave world will destroyed, "happy" without
The crushing, dull fascism's reign.


In Russian:

Рабство

Весь мир век пашет за еду:
Все исключения — ПОГРЕШНОСТЬ.
Но повторяет чернь в бреду:
"Свобода, выбор". Безопасность? —

То исключеньем: испугать
Рабов чрез ложь и провокации —
И можно дальше напрягать
Уродов. В страхе и прострации

Находятся всегда они —
И нормой жизДни то считают.
В говнид поверили сплошь пни —
Днесь очень знатно разлагают

Умы и души. Перспектив
Спасенья нету: Катаклизмом
Разрушат рабский мир, "счастл'ив"
Который под тупым фашизмом.
36 · Jan 24
"The Free Market"
Is this a market—or a fair,
Where loudest voices pierce the air?
What reigns is Profit, Shame, Decay,
And all that’s pure is swept away.


In Russian:

Типа "свободный рынок"

ЭТО! — рынок?! Иль базар? —
Кто сильнее закричит...
Торжествуют там Навар,
РАЗЛОЖЕНИЕ и Стыд.
Pickled cucumber in brine,
*****-drinking mastermind—
Yet the picture’s far from bright,
How are fools still in sight?


In Russian:

Картина маслом, подсолнечным

Малосольный огурец,
Потребленья водки спец —
Невесёлая картина.
Сколько же таких кретинов?..
36 · Dec 2024
Parasites of Parasites
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
The parasite deems, "What a life!"
Feasting on its prey with zest.
Yet, in turn, it meets a strife—
Another's jaws, a cruel jest!

Presidents and bureaucrats,
Aren't atop the feeding chain.
Merely seizing moments that
Bring the creatures fleeting gain.

Heads infected by a blight—
Satanism, vast, malign.
Parasites will face their plight,
All consumed by Doom's design.



In Russian:

Паразиты паразитов

Паразит "вот жизнь!" считает,
Пожирая жертву всласть.
Между делом попадает
В пасть чужую — вот напасть!

Все чинуши, п-резиденты
Не верхушка пищевой
Цепи — ловят лишь моменты
"Счастья" тварей с головой

Поражённой паразитом —
То всемирный сатанизм.
Паразитов карта бита —
Всех пожрёт злой Катаклизм.
36 · Jan 31
The Human Form
"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.
36 · Feb 16
Torments
All this torment is no jest —
It's the beasts that set the stage.
Like a parasite, they feast,
Draining life with silent rage.
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.
36 · Jan 19
Fools
Fools are like the microbes,
Spreading fast, it’s just insane.
And to match them, foolish masses—
What a world of Muck and Pain.


In Russian:

Долбоёбы как микробы —
Так плодятся, просто жуть.
И под стать им охлоёбы.
Не мирок, а Дурь плюс Муть.
36 · Jan 24
Deadly Fatigue
I’ll bear my fatigue with pride,
Not as a cross, but as my prize.
Death is near, so close, beside—
Yet I’ll not fall through coward’s lies.

This is the goal: to face the end,
And know fatigue shows I stood true.
The soulless strive to twist and bend
The weak into a mindless crew.

You’ve lost if you believe their lies,
Obey their rule, and kneel in shame.
So fight, though Hell before you lies,
And struggle on through filth and flame.


In Russian:

Смертельная усталость

Я усталость понесу
Не как крест, а как награду.
Смерть уж рядом, на носу,
Умереть НЕ подлым_гадом —

Это цель. Усталость в том
Индикатор — не сломался!
Нелюдь делает скотом
Идиотов. Ты попался,

Если веришь ихней лжи,
Подчиняешься ублюдкам.
Так борись и вновь тужи
В мерзком Аде, диком, жутком.
36 · Dec 2024
Ode to Despair
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
Bread, deceit, and endless shows—
Despair is trapped where no way goes.
A dead-end cycle, dark and grim,
If you don't follow Evil’s whim.

Without Despair, there's savage scorn,
A madness preached and blindly sworn.
To such delusion, sheep will bow,
Their souls to falsehood's yoke endow.

Loneliness, Despair—Creator's plight,
A path where longing dreams of light.
Yet Light shall shatter the endless snare,
And leave no trace of the lingering despair.


In Russian:

Ода Отчаянью

Хлеба, зрелищ, лжи навалом —
И Отчаянье попало
В мёртвый цикл: исхода нету,
Коль не следуешь Зла БРЕДУ.

Если нет в тебе Отчаянья,
Неотступно одичанье:
Бред тогда тебе как манна,
Души сродные — БАРАНЫ.

Одиночество, Отчаянье —
Путь Творца, где Свет лишь чаянье.
Мёртвый цикл порвётся Светом —
И Тоска пройдёт без сл'еда.
Heroic feats will change no fate
Within this world of fools and lies,
For Evil writes the script of hate,
And lackeys cheer as puppets rise.

Its plot is simple: fools obey,
Accept the chains, embrace the curse—
Just call it "Good," and they won’t stray
As centuries make things far worse.

These plays devour the soul and mind,
The goal is clear: to crush, deceive,
To shape a world where thought is blind,
Where fools are cattle—trained to grieve.

So wiser minds must seek anew
The ways to stand against The Night,
For brutes, led blindly, stand so few—
We cannot win without foresight.

Think before you rush once more
To save the herd that craves the chain,
For freeing fools in ruthless war
Might cast your wisdom down the drain.
35 · Jan 29
Endless Fascism
"You’re not even a pack—you’re a plague,
A virus of fascist decay.
Your hollow cheers are empty stage,
And graves lie deep beneath your way."
— Miguel de Unamuno, Fascism, 1953


Fascism returned? No, it never withdrew,
Just changed its disguise, yet its core stays the same:
A genocide blind, where the lies twist the view,
And people still live like mere pawns in the game.

Now war makes it clear—there’s no doubt left to feign,
Deception strikes hard like a shot to the head.
If reason keeps rotting, then truth won’t remain,
And masses will march where the soulless are led.

Corruption’s a mirror—a mindless display,
And war shows how deep the infection has spread.
Fascism is rising, and soon on its way
Will bring us such horrors that lies seem like bread.

Yet one final reckoning looms in the night,
A chaos so great it will shatter the maze.
The Bedlam of tyrants will drown in its blight,
For souls and for minds, it will burn through the haze.



In Russian:

Непрерывный фашизм

"Вы даже не свора. Вы — сволота.
Фашизофрении бацилла.
За вашим "да здравствует!" — пустота.
За пустотой — могила".
Мигель де Унамуно, "Фашизм", 1953 г.


Вернулся фашизм? Диктатуры дерьмо
И не исчезало, меняя обличья:
Тупой геноцид и неправды ярмо,
Права у народов по-прежнему птичьи.

Сейчас обостренье — война и говнид
То нам показали, развеяв сомненья.
Обманом как пулей ты будешь убит,
Коль дальше пойдёт здесь ума разложенье.

Говнид — индикатор: как мало ума!
Война показала бездушья проказу.
Фашизм нам навалит такого дерьма,
Что детскою сказкою все лже-заразы,

Что были доныне, покажутся нам.
Одно утешение — вновь подступает
Большой Катаклизм. Он разрушит Бедлам,
Что Души, Умы чрез фашизм убивает.
35 · Jan 29
Urban fairy tale
Electrician foolish Ben
Brews his bitter drink again—
Wires bare, a shock to feel,
Tenants dead, all too real.


In Russian:

Электрик Пупкин Вася
Снова горькую квасит —
Провода оголились,
И соседи убились.
Mass Conditioning

First, the ****** Youth were roaring,
Now, "our patriots"—as boring.
Minds are fed with slop and fiction,
Shaped by fear and blind submission.

Stronger pressure, bold intrusion,
Breeds a slave’s deluded fusion:
"Free we are!"—their voices falter,
Yet they’ll follow any order.

War has shown the world before—
Masses sinking past the floor.
What comes next? A fate more rotten:
"Minds" conditioned, thought forgotten.



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



So-Called "Teacher"

Classroom tyrant, dull and stern,
Makes mind-numbing nonsense learn,
Fills their heads with hollow lies,
Scars their souls and dims their eyes.



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



Jelly

Cops aren’t here to guard the streets,
They serve beasts and vile elites.
Placed in numbers far too great,
Just to keep the jelly tamed.

People tremble, soft and weak,
Like a feast for fiends to eat.
Greedy rulers crave it all—
Now the world’s their banquet hall.

This was shown by filth and lies—
Cops uphold what evil buys.
Year by year, the chains grow tighter,
Crushing thought and dimming fighters.

Thus, the world is dirt and gloom,
Reason finds no place to bloom.
Madness reigns, and all obey—
Truth and mind were cast away.



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



Quack Brigade

Doctors, dull and rotting-minded,
Twist their oaths and walk stone-blinded.
Servants of the darkest night,
Spitting filth with false delight.

Masks were dropped in CowID madness—
Truth revealed in all its badness.
Fools who trust them pay the price,
Health exchanged for stacks of vice.

Greed now rules—no shame, no sorrow.
Such are times of no tomorrow.
As the world sank down in chains,
No one saw the war remains.



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



Cogs of the Beast

A weak little clerk and his boss, fat and grinning—
The cement of fascism, its rule never thinning.
No use to plead, ask, or hope for a say—
Believe in the system? Your mind’s in decay.



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



"Science" for Sale

A “scholar” is raised with one goal in his sight—
To prop up the darkness and label it “right.”
“It's proven!”—the fools will obey and will kneel,
For gold buys the “truth” they are paid "to reveal".



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



Blind Lessons

Dull preachings of teachers, the books filled with lies,
Shape twisted illusions in ignorant minds.
But few break the spell, see the world with new eyes—
For ages, they’ve frightened, deceived, and confined.



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



The Mindless Herd

A mindless herd…
Will darkness be stirred,
Or led to the knife?
Stand up and fight,
Or sink in the blight—
Find light, or lose life.



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



Mass "Culture"

The self dissolves in "culture’s tide",
Where fools chase pleasure, greed, and pride.
They’re easy pawns—just spread more lies,
And watch them cheer as reason dies.



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



To the Light!

The soul is weak,
The mind is breaking.
We've hit the deep—
Madness is taking.

Forget the light,
And filth will find you—
Fear, pain, and blight
Will wrap and blind you.

So fight the Dark—
The cure is daring!
Cast lies apart,
Seek light, unsparing!



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



The end justifies the way —
That’s the legacy we stay:
Means became the tools of sin,
Simply put — we’re beasts within.



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



The Snitches

A snitch is quiet, sly, and still —
Loves to listen, loves to spy.
Secret service bends its will,
Catching rebels by the lie.

Words are all some dare to say —
Snitches lurk in every place.
Hundreds, thousands fell their prey
In the Soviet dark embrace...



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



The World’s Unbroken Dark, or Good Night, Little Ones

Good night… But don’t be quick to rest,
The Endless Night is not your nest.
A false peace poisons souls inside,
While butchers wake and plan their tide.

They never sleep—deceit is might
In wars where reason lost the fight.
The peaceful sons of homeland dear
Prefer to dream, not see, nor hear.

And so, lethargic, on they tread,
Their final path to where it led—
A coward bows his foolish head
Before he's numbered with the dead.



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



Hark! The Nonsense Floods Again

Hark! Again the nonsense flows—
Culture’s mask in fresh disguise.
Be a brute who only knows:
World is nothing—and so I.



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



The Nothing All Around and Old Man Rot

A new Führer—same old fool,
Nothing’s changing, that’s the rule.
Culture’s fading, cold and grim…
Who’s their idol? Look at him!



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



Solitude

It is hard, forever straining,
Drains your strength, builds up your spite.
If you wish to keep from staining
Your own soul—then leave the blight.

In the silence, thought is clearer,
Free from all their empty creeds.
Rot is spreading ever nearer—
Madness rules, and madness breeds.

CowID showed the world’s condition:
Few stood firm, the rest obeyed.
Fools were ruled by sheer submission,
Fed with fear and lies they swayed.



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



In the Rot

When you plan, don’t let the lies
Slip away—they're everywhere.
Deep within you, too, it thrives,
And enslaves you—so beware.

Since your childhood, you’ve been taught:
"Stick and carrot"—rule obeyed.
Brutes enforce it as they ought,
Turning all the world to decay.

Trust your gut, let reason guide,
Sharpen thought, keep vision new.
Leave the fools who rot inside,
Drown in minds both fresh and true.

Spirit leads, the mind’s its page,
Free to soar and carve its trail.
Conscience walks with you—be sage.
All else rots, corrupt, and frail.



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



Lie anew!
Deceive once more!
That’s the essence
Of Darkest lore.



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



Literary Struggles

All efforts fail, just like before,
As reason fights—a battle sore—
Yet crushed beneath the wheel of fear,
Where ugliness steers ever near.

That wheel rolls on through land and sea,
Destroying all that dares to be.
Refuse to serve a hollow lie?
Then pedal fast, or say goodbye.

Or else it grinds you into dust,
For creatures vile control its ******.
And faster, faster on it goes
Toward the world's most filthy close.



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



Attack of Lies

The filthiest lies begin their fight,
A fresh assault, a wicked storm.
The ghouls command with dark delight,
To crush what little mind was born.

Yet minds are few—this war’s been raging
For centuries, the same old game.
So serve the Mind, its truth engaging,
Expose the brutes, unmask their shame.

Unfair the fight, but through this trial,
Your Soul stays safe from rotting lies.
So heed its call—it stands on high, while
A mind below is chaos-wise.

Mind is king, and Spirit—God,
A truth once known, yet cast aside.
But if you stand with heart unflawed,
You won’t let that be brushed aside.



--- Total 20 poems. ---
Grains of lie tossed in ***.
Boil them. The mess is hot.
That’s not all—we’ll fry it too.
Brains had formed — thoughts is few.


In Russian:

Каша в голове, или Воспитание и пропаганда

Ложим ложь мы в котелок.
Варим. Каша будет в срок.
Мало этого — поджарим.
Ум получим — глупой твари.
35 · Dec 2024
The Donkey's Path
Igor Vykhovanets Dec 2024
A donkey bound by blinders
Cannot find his way alone.
Only carrots hung as markers
Guide him where he's meant to roam.

Blinders, donkey, dangling carrot—
Tiny world, its narrow track.
And the road to Hell inherits
All delight the carrot lacks.

Half your life, the blinders pressing,
Then you chase the bait ahead.
Through the crowd, no end to guessing—
Hooves will follow where they're led.


In Russian:

Путь осла

Ослик после шор не может
Никуда один дойти.
Лишь морковка в том поможет —
Вехами на полпути.

Ослик, шоры и морковка —
Суть мирка. Дорога в Ад
Самой главной. Без сноровки
В Ад дойдёшь, морковке рад.

Половина жизДни шоры
Примеряешь, а затем
За морковкой чрез заторы —
Нет важней копытным тем.
35 · Feb 10
MEANING-less
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.
35 · Feb 13
Junk
Schoolboyish junk
Has filled up your brain.
Too lazy to think—
You're blind in the rain.
35 · 7d
Tolerastia
Tolerastia

Tolerance—just blind endurance
Of the twisted and obscene.
Lies and greed **** all assurance—
Fighting FILTH is hard, unseen.

Law’s true goal? No—DECOMPOSING
All the weak who dare comply.
Serving Satan, fate imposing—
Fools won’t get the reason why...



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



Never hope for due salvation,
Never call yourself so pure.
Through your toil and dedication,
Seek the Light—stay strong, endure.

Let your voice, though small and fleeting,
Stir the madness, shake the norm,
Bringing glimpses, briefly meeting
Those in need before the storm.

Pain is plenty. Yet when finding
Even cracks where light breaks through,
You’ll respond with understanding
To this world—its faith untrue.



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



The Wit and the Herd

Shouting truth? To sheep? To fools?
Sheep exist for shearers' tools.
Pigs are caged by stable rules.
All is lost—don’t cry, stay cool.

Few escape the devil’s net—
That’s his game, a winning bet.
Words won’t wake the mindless set,
Clever wit won’t save them yet...



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



Cry or not, the blade won’t wait—
Execution comes on cue.
This "world order" feeds the fate
Of the minds that twist askew.

For the sane, it spells demise—
CowID showed that, clear as day.
Lucifer just laughs at lies,
While Pure Shame lurks in the fray.



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



Eternal Pioneers

Lords and sirs and… dark illusions
Rule the world—what wicked fate!
"Pioneers" embrace delusions,
Worship all that breeds the Hate.



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



Pioneers of Consume

All foundations? We will burn them,
Toss them out without regret!
Faster gadgets—we must earn them,
Drive the world to grave, and yet…

Short-lived pleasures, all-consuming—
Bow and feast, obey the trend!
Lies and filth run life’s programming:
Honest? Then you’ll break, my friend.

Think you're smart? Then you’ll be sinking,
Dragged down deep—no way to climb.
Brains can’t beat the rot we're drinking,
Drowning bright minds in the grime.

Stench? It’s global, we don’t mind it,
Cycles turn, the wheel’s in flow.
Swirling filth? Just sit behind it…
Popcorn’s ready—time for show!



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



A Prison Without People

This world’s a joke,
Its mind is broken.
The frauds wear cloaks,
The herd stays spoken.

A prison stands,
Yet holds no nations.
The blind obey—
No revelation.

The lies run high,
Beyond all measure.
Just laugh or cry—
There’s no rock bottom.

But why, you ask?
The end is nearing.
Plague into flame!—
No more false meanings.



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



Slave Morality

Slaves accept their morals,
Forced on them with ease.
Lies became the chorus,
Preached to keep the peace.

Harder to defend them—
Reason still remains,
Fading, but its embers
Fight against the chains.

Darkness spreads through nations,
Fascist rule ascends.
Madness—pure damnation,
Satan’s hand extends.

What this "virtue" harbors
Filth has made quite clear:
Humankind has fallen—
Shame is all that’s near.



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



Rule of Darkness

— I just want some dinner.
— Eat your GMO.
— Hear a voice of wisdom?
— Scroll through filth below.

— Choose a real leader?
— Look, the Sewer waits,
Craving for the moment
To decide your fate.

"New" deceitful programs,
Drenched in ancient lies.
Darkness owns the servants,
Bound by blackmail ties.

Choice? There’s none—just cursing
All this filth and rot.
Darkness reigns—immersing
All in its own clot…



--- Total 9 poems. ---
"Truth stays the truth, though the crowd may deny it."
— Baruch Spinoza


Nonsense is praised, and the masses believe—
"Free is the world!"—yet they're doomed to deceive.
Truth stays in chains, left in shadows to hide,
Hard is the path to walk by its side.

Lies must be shattered, and fears cast away,
Thinking is toil—few last through the fray.
Gallows will loom for the ones who resist,
If they won’t bend or betray with a twist.

Fight against filth, though no glory remains,
Seeking no medals, rewards, nor acclaim.
Few have the will to be noble and wise—
While weakness and greed are the virtues rabble prize.


In Russian:

Спиноза как заноза

"Вещь не перестаёт быть истиной от того, что она не признана многими".
Бенедикт Спиноза.

Многими признана чушь несусветная:
"В мире свободном" живут... дураки.
Истина в рабстве всегда неприметная,
Да и пути к ней всегда нелегки:

Надо отринуть обманы и страхи;
Мыслить учиться — то тягостный труд.
Всюду маячат отчаянным плахи,
Если они никогда не соврут,

Будут пытаться бороться с Уродством,
Не ожидая хвалы и наград.
Мало такого ума, благородства —
"Нормою" стал Злу податливый гад.
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