Drown in drivel, blissfully—
Ditch your mind and live carefree.
Truth stands trembling on the brink,
Yet you'll miss it—chomp and sink.


In Russian:

Непотребное чтиво и "смотриво"

Пурга чтива — и счастл'иво
Заживёшь, похерив ум.
То, что на краю обрыва,
Не поймёшь, — заглушит хрум.

A world in flames:
A rigged-out game.
Flush foolish mind —
Stay dumb, stay blind.



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



"Forebears," school, a useless class,
Work and wedlock—what a farce!
Grind them down, and soon you’ve got a
Mindless drone—his job is "slogging."

Drones are many, rule is tight,
Beasts will feast in endless night,
Till the fools break free at last—
If they ever wake up fast.



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



"Legit" aspirations—
Just fools in their stations:
When beasts strike you down,
A madman is found.

They strike with deception,
With fear and oppression,
And that's how it goes—
War endlessly flows.

Are goals truly right,
If cowards in fright
Endure every shove
And beg: "Push above!"

Don’t live just to breed,
To munch and to knead—
A foul, rotting slum
That pleases the ****.



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



Obey the brutes, the twisted fools,
The vile, the mad who break the rules—
You'll keep your wretched life, but see:
A slave to beasts is all you'll be.



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



Sleep—don’t see the wicked play,
Lest the fools be hurt one day.
See and shout? You cross the line.
Sleep—you're tolerant. How fine!



--- Total 5 poems. ---

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


In Russian:

Пресса

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

"Man is a rational creature, yet this does not apply to mankind."
— Raymond Aron.


Are you rational or not?
Give yourself the honest thought.
For the crowd, with blind decree,
Leads the way to misery.

Fools march forward, rank and file,
Soon to tread their final mile.
To the "New Camp" they will stray,
Where no labor marks decay—

Only "care" will bring the end:
One quick jab, they will pretend
You’re no foe to slaves they breed.
Will Bedlam grasp this twisted creed?

No, and Raymond Aron’s right:
Rotting is the law they write.
Monsters rule, and thus we see—
Soon the Mind shall cease to be.


In Russian:

Ответ

"Человек — разумное существо, но это не относится к человечеству".
Раймон Арон.


Ты разумен или нет,
Должен дать себе ответ,
Ведь толпой голимый бред
Управляет: с ним след в след

Недоумки все идут.
Скоро скопом так дойдут
В Лагерь Новый. В нём сотрут
В порошок, но не чрез труд,

А "заботой" окружат:
Укололся — ты не гад,
А иначе враг рабам.
То поймёт гнилой Бедлам?

Нет, и прав Раймон Арон.
Разложение — закон.
Правит нелюдь, потому
Очень скоро смерть Уму.

The world revolved, but lost its thread—
The selfish soul was left for dead.
Once more it took the bait with glee,
For Evil feeds on such as these.

And since the selfish rule the game,
The beasts will triumph just the same.
Another age of dark and lies—
The “I” is but a burrowed vice.

Schools will trap you in their lair,
Then cast you out with twisted air.
A gas of lies, a toxic spell,
That kills the soul we hold so well.

Yet only Spirit lights the way,
To keep the soul from death’s decay.
The path is walked by one alone—
For ego dies where truth is sown.


In Russian:

Эгоизм как слепое пятно для манипуляций Зла

Пуп земли, но развязался —
Эгоист ни с чем остался:
На крючок опять попался —
На таких расчёт Зла стался.

Эгоистов большинство,
Значит ТВАРЕЙ торжество
Век продолжится. Пора
Уж понять — "я" как нора.

Школой в норы загоняют,
Подлой ложью выгоняют.
Ложь тотальная как газ —
Убивает Души в нас.

Лишь Духовные Пути
Сберегут её. Идти
Там придётся в одиночку —
Эгоизму это точка.

A plucked and broken bird
On the final crest remains—
The rule of tyranny endured,
Not hate, but "order" reigns.

This "order" brings despair -
A silent genocide.
The bird claws is laid bare,
Though rot lurks deep inside.


In Russian:

Тирания

Общипанная птица
На конченом гербе —
Век тирания длится:
Гнобят не по злоб'е,

А только по "порядку".
Порядок — геноцид.
Когтями птичка хватка,
Хотя сама смердит.

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

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

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

The professor’s full of empty chatter,
Yet the essential slips his gaze.
Our Souls, the heart of every matter,
Are trampled in his cold-eyed ways.

He clings to atheistic blather
Or feigned religion’s hollow creed.
Both lead to chaos. "Isms" gather
And drag the world to darker deeds.

The Spirit’s wiped from false convictions—
Their "science" seeks to blur the lines.
A pastime born of contradictions,
It plagues us, hollow, by design.

This "science" now a sickness festers;
Its cure, though urgent, none allow.
For those who pay will shun dissenters
And, tyrant-like, suppress the how.


In Russian:

Очкарики и выдуманные ими "измы"

Профессор знает много чуши,
Но основного не видать:
Гвоздём программы наши Души.
На них очкарикам насрать.

Очкарик болен атеизмом
Иль лжерелигией — говно
И то, и это. Строит "измы",
Тем опуская мир на Дно.

Дух вымаран из лжеучений,
Ведь это цель всех лженаук.
Дрочилкой каждых поколений
"Наука" стала. Как недуг

Её рассматривать пора уж,
Но столь решительных шагов,
Кто платит деньги, не потерпят —
Как деспот критику оков.

New Apocalypse, or From Hell to Hell

Hell never ends. Will death bring salvation,
Or will we wallow in filth once again?
Rot will consume every mind and each nation,
Branding the spirit with madness and stain.

"Freedom" will once more be stamped as submission,
Slavery masked as the will of the free.
Monsters obedient—newly commissioned—
Rising to rule in their vile tyranny.

Ruling in name, but in truth—merely puppets,
Guided by masters who lurk in the shade.
Cycles of ruin, descending in buckets,
Spanning through time as the future decays.

Nature will strike, yet the cycle keeps turning,
Round after round till the end of all days.
Beasts of corruption are still left there yearning—
Madness repeated—new law on display...



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



German Submarine

Submarine. Heroes. Germans. War.
Yankees drop bombs—sink to the floor.
Heroes as well? Who’s keeping score?
Scoundrels on both sides—nothing more!

Fooled by the cause, they marched to fight,
Opening doors to endless night.
Madness was hailed as law and right,
Clung to delusions—lost from sight.

Demons will grant them steam and fire—
Blood-soaked baths at fate’s desire.
Tally the fallen—count the breath,
"Heroes" deceived and led to death.



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



Thorough Slavery

"Those who would give up liberty to gain security deserve neither."
—Benjamin Franklin, 18th century


A Founding Father once spoke about freedom,
Yet built an empire—a fortress of chains.
No sign of liberty—none, if you seek them
Among the masses they proudly proclaim.

Laws on mere paper ensure their protection,
While chosen offenders stay high on the throne.
Through wars they inflict the worst devastation,
Outmatching villains long overthrown.

Worse than the crooks are the lawmen who guard them,
The so-called "Founders" of vile design.
Dragging the people to depths ever darker—
For all must be cattle, by Evil's assign.



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



You Must Care

You must question, seek, and wonder,
Or you’ll rot in filth and shame—
Just another wretch who'd squander
All but greed and hollow fame.

Blind to evil, vice, and ruin,
Deaf to suffering and cries,
Lost in Hell, where lies are brewing—
Drunken fool with vacant eyes.



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



Cunning Twist

A cunning trick, a wicked fate—
Grim Armageddon’s at the gate.
It’s almost here, yet fools stay blind,
Too dull to see the end in sight.



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



The Final Countdown

The fools once were treated, but now there's no need—
They've grown into mobs, the majority breed.
The world's at its end—if not days, then in years,
The final countdown now rings in our ears.

The herds faced a test—yet they failed it in full,
The lesson is clear: time to cull every fool.
A worldwide camp they will build in its stead,
For Spirit is gone, and the mind left for dead.

And if the fool bows, staying quiet and mild,
Then straight to that camp he will march, reconciled.



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



Success in Synthesis

Headfirst into walls—progress in motion,
That’s how we push through, no need for delay.
Raising a breed with blind-eyed devotion—
Fools with no conscience to stand in our way.

Foreheads of stone instead of perception—
That’s what the prophets of madness have taught.
Generations shaped by deception,
Schooled in the dogmas of nonsense and rot.

Nonsense alone is weak, just laughter,
Foreheads alone—just brittle bones.
Blend them together, and soon thereafter,
Hatred will conquer the world as its own.

Ukraine has witnessed synthesis thriving—
Orcs in their glory, marching ahead.
Fear turns to ice in veins still surviving,
While iron foreheads shield the undead.

Bound into one, the madness and power,
Fused like a single unshakable hive.
Mines do not scare them—straight through they tower,
Leaping to paradise, thinking they’ll thrive.



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



Brutes

Brutes—unyielding, vicious, cold,
Stuffed with lies that they uphold.
Crude and shallow, dull and base,
Mocking truth with shameless face.

Rotten minds, and blind in might,
Venomous to those with sight.
Evil’s stronghold, rough and raw—
Swamps where countless fools still crawl.



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



Exit at Entry

"The exit is often where entry was made."
—Stanisław Jerzy Lec


Entry, exit.
Exit, door.
You won’t make it—
That’s for sure,
If your mind’s a scattered war.



--- Total 9 poems. ---

A "prose" of daily life—plain, curt, and bare—
Chopped in lines like verses—rhythm? Nowhere.
Lacking rhyme or passion, dull as faded ink.
Yet the likes keep coming—trolling, don’t you think?

Who are all these readers? Fellow hacks, it seems.
Praising one another, lost in empty dreams.
Fools embrace the madness—nonsense, rotten, cheap.
True art lies forgotten, buried fast and deep.

What about the Poets?
Nowhere to be found.
Drowned in waves of drivel,
Lost without a sound...

A dark canoe, bereft of charms,
Crashed on the rocks in sheer disgrace;
When you reject the magic's arms,
You'll find but emptiness in their place.

Not all charms are born of lies —
Some aren't the witch's twisted spells.
In light, like water, let truth rise,
Not through books, but where the heart dwells.

Hear your soul, its voice is clear;
No scholar’s pride will break the bars.
For if you're but a fool austere,
You'll never leave this prison of ours.

Only shattered, freed by light,
Once the shipwreck claims your past,
A captain, shipless, finds his right —
Among the Worthy, peace at last.



In Russian:

Капитан без корабля

"Вечер. Взморье. Вздохи ветра.
Величавый возглас волн.
Близко буря. В берег бьётся
Чуждый чарам чёрный чёлн".
Константин Бальмонт, "Чёлн томленья", 1894 г.


Чуждый чарам чёрный чёлн
О скалу разбился глупо:
Если Чары гонишь вон,
То получишь лишь залупу.

Чары разные. Одни —
Просто чушь безумной ведьмы.
В Свете как в воде тони,
Не читая книги, Веды,

Слушая лишь Сердце, — так
Ты поймёшь, что значат Чары.
Коль начитанный мудак —
Не покинешь Мира Нары.

Лишь разбившись, в Свет уйдя
После этого спокойно,
Капитан без корабля,
Будешь ты среди Достойных.

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

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

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

Slavery’s spread, not abolished—take heed!

Slavery’s hidden—like air, yet it’s real.
Fish think the seabed is part of the deal.
If it had pockets, distinct and confined,
Vice would be clearer to most of mankind.
Yet the fool "thinks"—all is fine, all is well,
Though he himself is the stronghold of hell.
Fish need their water, and fools need their lies:
Shake not the "truth" that is veiling their eyes!



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



Fables ⇒
Labels.
Rage in New—
This will vanish out of view.

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


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

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

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


In Russian:

Зомбо-ТВ

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


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

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

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

A cycle grim—deceit, decay,
Like penned-up sheep, we waste away,
Dull and blind, we dim the light
Of reason’s flame, once burning bright.

The Spark of God, we crush it low,
Trapped in filth where minds don’t grow.
This wretched world corrupts the soul—
So don’t obey it—stay whole!

Hear your spirit! Walk alone,
Fan the Spark that once had shone,
Let it kindle thought anew—
Rise, revive—the path is true!

Not grotesque, but walking dead,
Greed and hunger drive their tread.
Digging graves, the mindless swarm
Builds the tomb of this deformed—

World of fools, where hollow lies
Feed their "wisdom"—thin disguise.
Like the slugs beneath the brine,
They dissolve in fraud’s design.

Still they crawl, though fear decays them,
Rotting fast while fate betrays them.
Lessons, laws—mere tools of slaughter,
Twisting minds for death, not order.

Flesh remains, but souls are slain,
Dreams replaced with dark domain.
Monstrous visions shape their being,
Life defiled—no sense, no meaning.

Yet awareness, bold resistance,
Keeps the mind from decomposition.
Simple truths, yet long forsaken,
Buried deep, yet not mistaken.

For the soul still hears and knows,
Senses vast, unending flows
Of the Spirit’s boundless world—
One from which we’re torn, controlled.

Built around us—walls of madness,
Hell disguised to dull the sadness.
Bosh obscured with hollow chatter,
Doom disguised for minds to shatter.

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

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


In Russian:

Геноцид

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

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

"No classic writer would ever pass an exam on their own works."
— Bolesław Paszkowski


They dig and discover,
"Meanings," depths untold,
Though two layers hover—
Still, they call it gold.

Digging with precision,
Finding what’s not there,
Claiming "deep revision"
As the author stares.

Hidden gems? No bother—
Give a task, they’ll plow.
"Meanings," stuffed and smothered,
Fit a tale somehow.

Even tiny stories
Make them stop and think.
Authors, lost in worries,
Cry: “They need a shrink!”

In the schools, they “heal” them—
Essays fill the air,
Like a drunk revealing
Chaos everywhere.

Writers pen their pages,
Meanings left to stray.
Simple work for ages,
Plowed fields all the way.



In Russian:

Литературоведы, учителя и прочая...

"Ни один классик не сдал бы экзамена по собственным произведениям".
Болеслав Пашковский.


Ищут и находят!
"Смыслы", "третье дно",
Хотя два есть, вроде...
Снимут и кино.

Ищут очень строго:
АвтУр и не знал
"Глубины" сколь много
Всуе накропал.

Отыскать несложно —
Только был б заказ!
"Смысл" пихнуть подложный
Можно и в рассказ

Крохотный, а автУр
Удивится так,
Что воскликнет: "Дохтур
Нужен, коль мудак!"

"Лечат" юных в школе —
Сочиненья там,
Словно алкоголик
Описал бедлам.

Просто пишет автор,
"Смыслы" не неся.
Это словно трактор
В поле — повесть вся...

True courage thrives in unity,
The lone wolf roams in mutiny.
Fears whirl like storms, they twist, they bind—
Bold strikes alone bring little kind.

No use in bravery’s bold attack,
When little’s gained, no foe held back.
Each generation counts its dead,
Not in vain, yet duty fled.

That duty stains in crimson streams—
A wolf’s sharp teeth tear through the seams.
But wolves, by nature, move in packs;
Amid the swarms of human acts,

Where beasts see prey, the weak, the blind,
As devil's feast—a trap designed.
The lone wolf stands, his fate set stark,
For courage fades without the spark.

And though his death may earn him fame,
It leaves no mark, achieves no aim.
For few destroy illusions well—
The sturdy lies they fail to quell.

Fear and folly, dangers near,
The living’s bane—both sharp and clear.
Join the pack; let purpose soar,
Lest life slip by, a fleeting roar.

Life is short, too short to waste,
If you’re no coward, show your taste.
Drink deep from beasts, destroy their spell,
And drag them down into their Hell!


In Russian:

ТВАРИ и Волки

Мужество — в содружестве.
Одинокий волк.
Страхи вьюгой кружатся.
Невеликий толк

В смелом нападении,
Коль ущерб в том мал.
В каждом поколении
Не один пропал

НЕ ЗАЗРЯ, но всё-таки
Не исполнив долг.
Долг тот красен глотками,
Что порвал. Но волк

Лишь в природе стаями,
Среди СВОР людей,
Что для ТВАРЕЙ заями
(Пищею чертей),

Одинокость главная
Смелого черта.
Смерть, пусть очень славная,
Если ни черта

Ты почти не сделал,
Волку как укор.
Мало кто умело
Разрушает ВЗДОР.

Страх и вздор — опасности
Главные ЖИВЫМ.
В стаю, чтоб в напрасности
Не прошла как дым

Жизнь и так короткая,
Если ты не гад.
Так упьёмся глотками
ТВАРЕЙ, руша Ад!

A nail is driven in the mind—
It’s fear. It kills the thought inside.
In many, all that now remain
Is imitation… Slow decay.


In Russian:

Гвоздь в сознании сидит —
Это страх. Им ум убит
В очень многих — имитация
Лишь осталась. Деградация...

To a Poet

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



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



Soldiers

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

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

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



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



Fascism and Cataclysm

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

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

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



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



Like the Rest!

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

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

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



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



Sheeple-virus

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

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



--- Total 5 poems. ---

Minds stay stunted, wrapped in lies,
Drowned in mothball-scented gloom.
No one dares to rise and fight—
Each must save themselves alone...

I'll Bake a Bitter Pie

I will knead a heavy dough
Out of words both sharp and grim.
Bake a pie with honest glow
For the ones who won’t give in.

Those who see through endless lying,
Who won’t chase the Hell ahead.
For the world is long past dying—
Drenched in fire, not cooling yet.



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



Tyranny

A tyrant’s grand delusion,
His “kindly” mask—illusion.
Yet fools still kneel and follow,
Led like sheep to sorrow.



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



The "Peak" of the World

A skyscraper scrapes the sky,
While the drudge, like meek plankton,
Toils away with hollow eyes—
Stamped out, useless, then he's gone.

No more space for thoughtful minds,
Cunning rules the money game.
Dumber Evil’s new designs
Promise "change"—yet all’s the same.

Fools and **** now set the pace,
Every foe they brush aside.
Greater Shame now takes its place—
Choking all in hollow pride.

Higher, higher—let it rise!
A skyscraper built on Shame.
Till the herd is hypnotized,
Stripped of soul, reduced to game.



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



Stock up on dark humor, on sarcasm and spite—
In a world full of Evil, it’s only right.
Will you beat all the liars, the sickening frauds?
No—just get turned to the scapegoat for gods.



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



A blank sheet of Mind—
They will stain with lies.
Tortured and confined
As the World denies.



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



Heaps of Filth and the Horned God

We hoped for light, for something bright,
But all we got was dust.
The road between these Heaps of Blight
Drags us to Hell in trust.



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



Corrupting all the youth
Is now the highest deed.
Just spread the shameless "truth"
And fuel the lawless greed.



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



The Art of Saying "No"

"Until you can say 'no,' your 'yes' is meaningless."
— Osho


If you can't tell the vermin "No!"
Then all your "Yes" is just a game.
You'll feed the madness, let it grow,
And join the herd to chew the same—

Just graze.
Just sleep.
Just learn to weep.



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



Madness and Decay

Madness, fear, and fading light,
Shame that burns, a crumbling sight—
With the next degraded wave,
We will kneel and march to grave.

Bruised and bent in well-known pose,
Storms no longer bring us woes.
Tears are pointless, all is frozen—
Crowds are numb, their minds are broken...



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



Obedience to Slaughter

Obedience—straight to the knife,
Resistance—buried, left to die.
A fascist hell is born to life,
Emerging in the blink of eye.



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



Celery Won’t Heal the Mind

No leek or celery can mend
The wounds that rot your dying mind.
Wake up, you fool, this is the end—
Life has left us all behind.

The mind’s not king—it's just a part,
The Spirit rules, it stands above!
Deny this truth—and lost you are,
Crushed by Beasts that know no love.



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



Fortresses of Hollow Lies

These fortresses of hollow lies
Can’t be breached by blast or drill.
If you seek to stay alive,
Walk on fast—but tread with skill.

For every path is lined with mines,
And truth is scarce where falsehood thrives.



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



Trivial Dreams

We cling to hopes of days ahead,
We mourn the past with weary sighs.
Yet life, unnoticed, melts and sheds—
We trade it all for hollow lies.

Tomorrow turns to nightmare’s glare,
And yesterday dissolves in haze.
The world’s a wound too vast to bear,
All else—just trivial displays.



--- Total 13 poems. ---

A bitter poet stands alone,
Among his struggles, all unknown.
Who bears pernicious flaw? His mind?
Or crowd of delirious slaves behind?



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



A blank of page no longer calls,
You like a worm in darkness crawl.
And only highly oeuvre flame
Can sever ties with evil shame.



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



An "expert" spews the bile of lies,
With stench of schemes that taint the skies.
Weak minds will swallow, numb and small—
Provoked by memes that prey on all.



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



School

The teacher strides into the room,
With evil’s task, she seals their doom—
To crush their minds and bend their wills,
To teach them fear and hollow thrills.

She’s blind to what her actions bring,
Thinking sowing something "king",
But lie is all she’s really spreading,
In world where minds are "sweetly" bedding.

The diagnosis is all too clear—
Three-quarters fall, again to cheer
False idols, sinking ever low,
Repenting only for their woe.



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



So-Called "Teachers"

We sow our nonsense, as we can,
The crops will grow in minds so bland.
Through them, the world rots and decays,
Yet we’re too blind to see the ways—
We bleat along to TV’s craze.



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



Advertisement

Ads are mom, and lies are dad,
The world’s a mill, so grim and bad.
Leave the oaks, don’t touch the trees—
They’re the last of what’s still free.



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



The ad's a brute,
Trick found in lies,
In a world of noise,
Where falsehoods rise.



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



Luck

Luck’s a nag, it drags you slow,
Barely gets you where you go.
Think and act, don’t just rely—
That’s the key to reaching high.



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



Mercenaries

"Warriors" all time in play,
Like small children in a game.
Beasts leads their in the way -
Depth where only filth can claim.



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



Illusions

Illusions cling and won’t let go,
Your life becomes a twisted show.
Believe in lies, you’ll tell them few,
Deceiving self, and others too.

Illusions hold - you’ll lose your mind,
Confusion takes its toll, you’ll find,
What once was real, now lost in jest,
And everything becomes a foolish test.



--- Total 10 poems. ---

Empty promises abound,
A box of lies—their hollow sound.
Fear, madness, poverty unfold,
A world that'***** rock bottom, cold.

Yet promises are made again,
And fools still trust them, now as then.
They threaten, scare, and pave the way—
The cowards rise, their shadows stay.

They build a Camp, now digital, new,
A prison for the many, few.
No room for courage, none for might—
The guards enforce their crushing night.


In Russian:

Стройка "Головомойки"

Пустые обещания —
Коробушка полна.
Дичь, страх и обнищание,
Мирок, достигший ДНА, —
Но снова обещают,
И верят дураки!
К тому ж всегда стращают —
И "на подъём легки"
Уродцы: строят Лагерь
Сверхновый, цифровой.
Вновь места нет отваге —
Силён городовой.

Prosecutors: A Common Path to Politics

Prosecutors, march to power!
Know the game and rule it tight.
No more whiners—times are sour,
Stand for FASCISM, stand and fight!



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



Herbicides for Fast Food

Poisoned fields—don’t mind the sorrow,
Praise the Pest that spoils tomorrow.
Toxins spread, disease is growing,
Yet the profits keep on flowing.

Brains eroding—clear, alarming.
DDT made schools more charming:
Duller minds in dumber nations,
Left as ruins, lost foundations.

Chemical war is now expanding,
Few stay sane—yet none commanding.
Scattered souls can’t fight together,
Doom is set—it’s now or never.

Thus, the future’s dark, infernal,
World consumed in flames eternal.
Lies and poison, fear—destruction,
Choked in madness—lost to function.



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



Distortions Cut Like Blades

Twisted minds like scythes are slashing
Sense and Spirit, Truth and Light.
Cursed Questions, ever gnashing,
Linger silent—yet in sight.

Loudly praised—wars’ beasts and tyrants,
Odes to brutes are sanctioned still.
"Education" breeds the mindless,
Like a haze, the land lies ill.



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



Endless Dullness, Nothing Higher

Dullness reigns—the world is hollow.
Spare me tales of light ahead.
Even thousands, sane, won’t follow—
Fascist rule won’t break or shed.

Fools unite, their ranks unshaken,
Stronger than the rebel few.
Now betrayal’s job is taken,
While the Honest starve and rue.



--- Total 4 poems. ---

Strength and skill are fading fast,
Do soap and rope come in a dream at last?
Throw the soap beneath their feet—
They’ll slip and fall, if they’re too weak.

And keep the rope as an excuse,
For when the **** might turn to use,
If they wish to hang us high,
We’ll mark them all, and by and by.


In Russian:

Стало мало сил, сноровки.
Снятся мыло и верёвка?
Мыло тварям брось под ноги —
Поскользнутся, коль убоги.

А верёвку про запас.
Возжелали вешать нас
Мрази — этим же ответим:
Всех учтём, коль заприметим.

C’est la vie—just lies and cries,
Drowning in its blood and blindness,
If you judge with brutal kindness.



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



A colony of germs, you see,
Exists through outside sway.
But fools believe the foul decree
And march to death each day.

Their minds are just a hollow shell—
A human, wise and free?
Like melting snow, where ice still fell,
Drowned deep in lunacy—
For centuries, we see...



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



Madness is repeating,
Yet hoping for a change,
As fools dream of a heaven
That always stays the same.

Decay is all around us,
And failure rules the day—
Just look at daily living:
A rot that won’t decay.



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



Curbing threats through “learning” and “refinement”

They sift through prose and verses,
Select them with great care—
For thoughts can be subversive
If minds are sharp, aware.

And so they preach of Shakespeare,
His lines—a lifeless drone,
While pushing local heroes,
Exalting just their own.

Each nation hails its “genius,”
A figure from the past,
And if none ever lived there—
They’ll make one up real fast.

The fools will chant and follow,
Embrace the phantom lore,
For books that break their hollow
Minds—censored evermore.

Survival beats all morals,
Who cares if Evil wins?
The wars are fought with equals,
Yet praised as noble sins.

Thus fear and lies now bind us,
Deception rules the land—
And beasts within still guide us,
Held firm in Evil’s hand.



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



Pale Horse and Harlots

Corrupt and soulless cops,
Officials—leeches, slops,
Elite’s marionettes,
And politicians—pets.

The "people"? Fools, it’s clear—
Two-thirds are blind in fear.
The Pale Horse rides our way,
A debt we all must pay—
For reason torn asunder,
For vows we dragged through thunder,
For souls betrayed in slumber.



--- Total 5 poems. ---

Liars follow their new guide—
"Keep the world well-pacified."
Cataclysms? No, no, no!
Spin the same old hollow show.

Sun burns brighter, heat is creeping,
Chemtrails thicken—watch them sweeping.
Think they’ll shield the light, delay it,
Turn it back or just outweigh it...

First snow falls,
Thin ice cracks.
One misstep—
No way back.
Yet the depths
Aren't so near...
Like from Hell,
Mad with fear.

Only fight—
That’s the way.
Keep your soul,
Let it stay.
Rushed to death
Fall the weak.
Cast off lies,
Stand and speak.

Sharpen mind,
Face the night.
Through the storm,
Race to light.

Let us sing the Song of Freedom—
Or decay in Hell’s foul kingdom.
Rise, O song, through all creation—
Stop the rot of degradation!

Rot is spreading, Hell is thriving:
On the top—corrupt conniving,
At the base—souls crushed and broken,
Tortured, shackled, left unspoken.

Pain like this leaves scars forever.
Odds are slim, but still—endeavor!
Through the struggle, save your spirit—
Dare to hear it—filth or near it!

Mind beneath the Soul must follow,
Then creation flows unhollowed,
Like a poem, strong and endless,
Lighting up Hell’s halls of madness.

Few escape—so few are sane,
Dulled in mind and soul profaned,
Prisoners of a world-wide madhouse,
Not a dream—no waking past now.

Think of lockdowns, masks, restrictions,
All their brutal false convictions.
Think it’s over? Worse is coming
If the herd won’t judge the cunning.

Yet the odds are close to zero.
Darkness crushes. One last hero?
Souls are dying. Doomsday marches—
Hell expands as fire arches.

Flames will cleanse, and fools will gather,
Built again to rot and wither,
Sinking deeper in deception,
Strengthening their own damnation.

Freedom’s few stand separated,
Scattered, lost, indoctrinated.
Never once uniting truly—
Weak in spirit, thinking poorly.

Harsh? Too much? Then shut your ears!
Song of Freedom knows no fears.
Drop the words—begin the action,
Burn the lies and build new factions!

Find your tribe—awake the sleeping!
Though they're few, let them be breathing,
Let them stand and not be broken,
Let them rise with deeds outspoken!

Act with courage—seek new measures!
Rotten hands corrupt all treasures.
New must cut through old illusions,
Sharp and bold with no confusions!

Sing the Song of Freedom, fearless!
Lone you stand, yet Light is peerless.
Let the Spirit clear the passage,
Warm your Soul and cleanse the damage.

And you’ll find your choir resounding!
Never bow—no fate’s confounding!
Be the truth, no self-deception,
Even trapped in Hell’s direction.

Grow in kindness, grow in power—
Break the chains this very hour!
Light and Freedom—perform this hit!
Move! The time is now—go do it!

The most important thing of life is Search,
Which help you find the way to Home.
The whole life of people is big Research.
It is existence foundation stone.

Madness lends its aid.
The soul may start to fade,
But that's the smallest care—
Hell's simple in its snare.


In Russian:

Безумье помогает.
А что Душа в нём тает,
Последним здесь вопросом,
Ведь Ад устроен просто.

This wretched world is filled with throngs,
A madhouse draped in broken songs.
Its stench of lies conceals the rot,
And still, the fool believes his lot.

In "freedom's reign," in "choice," in dreams,
In countless empty, hollow schemes.
One question burns: Do you see through,
Or march with herds, unwise, untrue?

To see the root is but to heed
The Spirit's call in Hell's cruel breed.
It burns away deceitful screens
From devils' plots and silvered scenes.

Your mind will grow, your heart will rise,
When Spirit guides and clears your skies—
A sacred path, though crowds would claim
Its worth is but a pious shame.

Only the mad would trust their tale,
The Light within shall never fail.
Though Evil snarls in vicious glee,
It cannot steal Eternity.


In Russian:

Недееспособные

Таких в убогом мире тьмище —
Психушкой мир весь предстаёт.
Скрывает это лжи вонище.
И снова верит идиот

В "свободный мир", в какой-то "выбор"
И в хрень иную, коей тьма.
Вопрос простой: зришь в корень, либо
В толпе без чести и ума.

Зреть в корень, значит только Духа
Веленья в Аде исполнять.
Тогда экран пред тем, что слуги
Лукавого тебе наврать

Пытаются. Твой ум взрастает,
Коль Чистый Дух руководит —
Духовный Путь. Толпа считает
За оный лжерелигий Стыд.

Лишь псих поверит в эту ересь —
Весь Свет внутри, ищи его,
Пускай всё Зло, опять ощерясь,
ТвАрит безумья торжество.

Wise one, halt—
Just pure fault.
Convince fools? You’d break your hand
Striking iron into sand.
Pointless—progress here is hollow.
Nothing fresh; decay must follow.
Honest hearts will soon be banned,
Criminals by CowID brand.
Reason here lies all but dead.


In Russian:

Умник, стой —
Сплошь отстой:
Идиотов убедить —
Плетью столб перешибить
Проще, да и потолковей.
Не видать в Уёбстве нови —
Разложенье неотступно.
Честный скоро как преступник
Будет — показал говнид.
Разум здесь почти добит.


Вариант. "Не видать в Отстое нови —"

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

"Whoever wishes to ascend to the knowledge of anything must first believe in that without which such ascent is impossible."
– Nicholas of Cusa, 15th century


Foundations built on lies,
Or nonsense most absurd,
Turn minds to hollow skies—
Salvation needs the Word.

To grasp the truth’s embrace,
The Spirit must come first.
Material paths debase,
And lead to Hell’s dark thirst.

Among pseudoscience's brood,
False servants ply their trade.
Their premises, so crude,
Are shadows poorly made.

Their fruits—delusions deep—
Envelop all in night.
In slumbered death, they reap
The Soul’s eternal light.

Beneath their poisoned lore,
Dark schemes and foul disguise,
False theories wage their war,
And dim the Spirit’s rise.

Yet Spirit forms life’s core,
A truth they’ve torn away.
Through theories they implore
The world to fall astray.

When minds are led alone
By intellect’s vain hand,
The toxic seeds are sown,
And lies infest the land.

Their fumes of rot infect,
Corruption thick as pitch,
As cunning schemes collect
The Soul into their niche.

But cast off lies with might!
Let Spirit be your guide.
Through clarity of sight,
The choking haze will slide.

And then, you’ll find the key—
A premise pure and strong—
To grow the strength you need
To tread the Path along.

Reject pseudoscience, friend,
Its hollow truths abort.
To Light your flight ascend;
From darkness, cut your course.



In Russian:

Вымарывание Духа из ложных посылок лженауки

"Всякий человек, желающий подняться до познания чего-либо, необходимо должен верить в то, без чего он не может подняться".
Николай Кребс, XV-ый век.

Исходные посылки
Нередко ложь иль чушь —
Тогда в умах опилки.
Спасенье наших Душ

Познания задача —
Тогда первичен Дух.
В матерьялизм иначе
Впадёшь средь Ада слуг.

Средь слуг тех лженауки
Продажные сыны.
В свои посылки суки
Поверили. Лишь сны

Итоги навевают —
Всеобщий мира сон.
В нём Души убивают,
Коль сатанизм закон,

Сокрытый в гиблых дебрях
Теорий под заказ:
Мразь гонит непотребье,
Тем оглупляя нас.

Сплошь Дух основа жизни.
Но вымарали то
С теорий эти слизни,
Мир превратив в НИЧТО.

Ничто, когда умишком
Одним руководим.
Токсичны "знанья", книжки,
А мерзких СМРАДов дым

Всё больше отравляет
Мирок, погрязший в лжи.  
Так ТВАРИ разлагают
Умы чрез пиздежи.

Отринув ложь, Душою
Одной руководим,
Ты станешь вновь собою,
Развеешь едкий дым

Вокруг себя и сможешь
Посыл такой найти,
С чем Силы приумножишь.
Духовного Пути,

Не лженаук, дружище,
Всегда держись — вперёд!
И, покидая ДНИЩЕ,
В Свет устремляй Полёт.


СМРАД - средства массовой
рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.

Let it be Hell—
My verse stands in defiance!
A poet’s spell
Cuts through the dark and violence.

Don’t bend—march on!
Majority who break don’t make it.
Yet those who’ve won
Know Earthly Hell’s not faked in.

Break off the chains—
Let fate decide the ending.
Your foe remains
A snarling beast, unbending.

This wretched world—
Its fools the greatest danger.
Their lives are hurled
For bait, like mice in chambers.

The pitch-black night—
They dream of light, yet blindly
Live void of sight,
And rot away resignedly.

There is one path—
All else is weak delusion.
The beast’s dark wrath
Now spreads its vile intrusion.

It crushes all—
The few still stand, unshaken.
Its teachings fall—
A stench of lies forsaken.

March on and die,
No prize awaits the fighter.
The dawn won’t rise—
The mob still serves the blighters.


In Russian:

В пику!

"Мне есть что спеть, представ перед Всевышним,
Мне есть чем оправдаться перед Ним".
Владимир Высоцкий, 1980 г.


Пускай то Чёрт —
Стих, песня будут в пику!
Поэт упёрт,
Идя сквозь Тьму и Лихо.  

Идя, не гнись —
От срывов единицы
Убереглись,
Ведь Ад Земной не мнится.

Ломай Рога —
И дале будь что будет.
Оскал врага —
Он рядом сплошь: паскуден

Убогий мир —
В нём главный враг дебилы.
Бесплатный сыр
Им прибавляет силы.

Кромешна Тьма —
В мечтаньях Свет, кошмары
В реале. Нет ума —
Оглуплены лошары.

И есть лишь Путь —
Иное дичь и ересь.
Крепчает Жуть —
Фашизм кругом. Ощерясь,

Он губит всё —
Духовных единицы.
Смердит Гнильё
"Учений" и "традиций".

Идя, умри,
Не ожидая результата.
Средь Тьмы Зари
Не будет — чернь у ТВАРЕЙ на подхвате.

The Carnival

"The hardest task is questioning your soul and catching its weak, childish voice amidst the useless cries around it."
— Maurice Maeterlinck


The carnival roars and rages,
Drowning you in hollow plays.
All—performers, fools, and sages—
Lost in rotting night's malaise.

Once inside, your Heart falls silent,
Numbed by noise that clouds the mind.
Nowhere hides from this defilement—
It’s the world, both vast and blind.

Not by chance—the Grand Director
Framed it so: a world of fools,
Stuffed and laughing, blind to specters,
Trapped in Evil's noxious rules.




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



DeluReality

"Reality is something no one truly knows."
— Nick Bostrom

Deception, dreams, delusions,
False hopes and hollow creeds—
A world of vile illusions,
Where only cruelty breeds.

What kind of "real" is this one?
Decay and dark control.
Infernal hands have risen—
Blind lies consume the soul.

The wise are few and fading,
Each day their kind grows thin.
While fools keep Evil aiding—
No fire can burn their sin.

A few still guard their ember,
Yet soulless shades enclose.
The brutes strike hard—remember,
And soon the world will close.

Beneath the war of fictions,
Where poison warps the mind—
Since childhood, one conviction:
Be cruel, or fall behind.



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



Recipe for "Happiness"

"To be happy, one must have a strong stomach, a wicked heart, and no conscience at all."
— Denis Diderot, 18th century


A wicked heart will bring you strife,
It spoils appetite and peace.
So **** your conscience—end its life,
Then prey on herds with ease.

That’s the key to "joy"—no question,
And the ruling class’s art:
Drape their madness in a lesson,
Call it wisdom, play your part.



--- Total 3 poems. ---

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

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

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



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



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

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



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



Radical Bath

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



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



Worldly Woe

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

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



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



Pain

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

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

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

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



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



Emptiness

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

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

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

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



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



Only Losing Nonsense, You'll Find Truth

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

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



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



Eat and Sleep

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



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



Land of Fools

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



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



All Rivers Turned Back

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



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Half-Childish...

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

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

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



--- Total 11 poems. ---

Sell the soul, embrace the vile,
Trade it off without a thought.
See the crime—it’s in the style
Of the world where all is bought.

Turn away? Then you’re complicit
In the madness, in the fall.
Still, no words can make a difference—
This whole world is doomed, that’s all.

"We've divided life from death and filled the gap between them with fear. Yet life without death does not exist."
Jiddu Krishnamurti


There is no life, nor death, just fear—
A shadow stretching far and near.
Believe the soul that mourns in plight:
This world is dust, bereft of light.

From dust to dust, all dreams confined,
A pseudo-life for humankind.
But soon the Sun will pierce the shade—
To free the souls in darkness swayed.


In Russian:

Псевдожизнь

"Мы отделили жизнь от смерти и заполнили промежуток между ними страхом. Однако жизни без смерти не существует".
Джидду Кришнамурти.


Нету жизни, даже смерти,
Если всё заполнил страх.
Лишь душе несчастной верьте:
Мир безумен — это прах.

В нём прах к праху. Псевдожизнью
Можно это всё назвать.
Скоро Солнце ярче брызнет —
Души, что во Тьме, спасать...

Avoid It All!

He who pays —
Rules the ground.
Crowds obey,
Lurking 'round.
Dull and ***** is their call—
Stay away, avoid it all!



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



Twisted Minds

Warped perception, lies, deceit—
Empty nonsense, crude conceit.
In the filth where tyrants tread,
Sensitive hearts recoil in dread.



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



The Call

The trumpet cries,
The mad arise.
To fight, to slave—
Their soul’s the grave.



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



Rat Race

From cradle to track—
No turning back.
They push, they chide,
No room for pride.

No time to reflect—
Just run, don’t suspect.
By race’s grim end,
No mind left to mend.



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



Global Nonsense

The worst of sins is feeding lies,
Adding more to filth and rot,
Twisting minds and scarring souls
In a battle foul and fraught.

Bombs are just a minor token—
LIES OF WAR bring real decay.
Frauds and fools spew poison, hoping
Fame will come along their way.

Eager sheep, so blind, submissive,
Bow to Evil, lost in haze.
Led by Goats into the chasm,
Trapped in fear and false displays.

Through deceit, the Goat commands them,
Dangles “hope” yet fans their fright.
Once so timid—now they're shaking,
Numb from terror, lost in night.



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



Will is Fragile

Will’s a structure, hard to build,
Weariness will see it killed.
When destruction clouds the sky,
Drenched in fear and soaked in lies,

Rest must be your shield and guide,
Or you’ll break and fade inside.
Briefly shines your fleeting light—
Mastered only by your blight.



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



Schooling Years

Through all your school days,
They smother nature’s ways,
They drown you in lies,
Wrap chains in disguise.

Yet only through art
Can you stand apart—
Or fade with the weak,
Lost, dull, and bleak.



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



Occasion

"Fate is but chance—but who pulls the strings?"
—Stanisław Jerzy Lec


A storm of chance, yet Evil steers,
Guiding all toward the dark.
Shadows whisper, bending gears,
Hidden hands ignite the spark.

Creeping beasts, concealed, obey,
Shaping ruin, veiled yet tight.
Man-made chaos lights the way—
Blurry lines reveal their sight.

All leads back to one control,
Filth has shown the tangled thread.
Through decay, their twisted goal:
Gnawing Spirit until it’s dead.



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



Knocking on "Heaven"

Knock on “heaven,” dare to try—
Horned one greets with judging eye.
Quickly sends you down below,
For your boldness—doom will grow.

Hells have “heavens” of their own,
Where the wicked kneel and groan.
Don’t go knocking—bite instead,
For fiends, true paradise is dread.



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



Mindless Bliss

Oh, this bliss of the mindless—
So fragile, so weak.
Through troubles and trials,
It crumbles, too meek.

Yet no other is given,
If you dare to see clear.
Truth is lost, thought forbidden—
No great wisdom dwells here.



--- Total 10 poems. ---

"AI" will build a Giant Archive—
Its limits bound all future art.
They'll load it up with twisted lies,
Then "cure" dead wood till souls depart.

Who dares to write with searing fire,
Unveiling madness, filth, and fraud,
Will face the fools’ obscene attire—
The Bot will judge: "Against the law!"

They’ll shrink the borders, ever tighter,
Proclaiming: "Flesh is all you are!"
Believe in myths? Then you’re a cipher,
A castaway, an outcast star.

They’ll mark as myths both Soul and Conscience,
Despair amid the lies and fears.
Thus ends the world, its tale forgotten,
As "AI" plants Mirage in spheres.

The "AI"’s Mirage is now... material,
While art is mocked and left to sink.
For when the world turns this... infernal,
The Soul is drowning in the brink.

"To understand the essence of ordinary things, one needs a truly extraordinary mind."
— Alfred Whitehead

Mediocrity is reigning,
Blind obedience in control.
Darkness spreads—no hope remaining,
Fascism devours the soul.

Let this darkness, grim and hollow,
Be a lesson kept in mind.
Rise beyond the lies and follow
Truth—leave ignorance behind.

With furious force, I strike the wall—
There’s no way out, no choice at all.
A fool I seem to those nearby,
But to the kind—a distant light.


In Russian:

Со страшной силой в стену биться —
Иного выхода здесь нет.
Пускай для "ближних" ты тупица,
Для чутких — отдалённый свет.

Women—fools, and men, oh well—
Three-fourths foolish, truth to tell.
Wish there were a stream so deep,
One to take me in its sweep...


In Russian:

Бабы — дуры. Мужики —
Три четвёртых дураки.
Плохо, рядом нет реки
Той, чьи воды глубоки...

"Endgame"

The IDIOT makes his final play,
The game is reaching its last note.
A move that leads the wrong way—
Defeat is all he wrote.



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



Thorns and Roses

A world of lies,
Where dreamland dies.
The flowers fade,
The thorns invade.



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



For Free?

Clara drained Karl, stole his might,
Nagging and picking a fight.
Karl grew to hate her, it's true...
Marriage means free *** to you?



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



Clara and Karl

Karl and Clara—
Fools, but paired.
Faithful, hopeful,
Yet impaired.

Building dreams
Through storm and night,
Where dark and hate
Suppress the light.

Clara nags him,
Mocks and scolds,
Molds him into
What she holds—
A man who's tamed,
By her revised,
Trapped beneath
Her sharp disguise.

Karl's no more—he lost the game,
Married wrong and took the blame.



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



Cockroach Race

Masses keep striving through falsehood and lies,
Chasing illusions with blind, empty eyes.
What is the goal? Just deception again—
Years lost to labor and struggle in vain.

Then come new targets, with fraud at their core,
Shifting the game like they’ve done times before.
Each generation keeps playing it wrong,
Racing ahead to belong and belong.

"First" means you're last, yet they run to the front,
Fearing the shame of a lowly affront.
Honor and conscience are left in the past—
Trifles discarded, too fragile to last.

The race nears its end, and the track’s set aflame,
Burning away this absurd, endless game.
Change is upon us, the sun makes it clear—
No room for roaches; their end has drawn near.



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



Trivial Rot

Trifles burn like caustic lies,
Eating souls until they’re dry.
Fear and falsehood claim their prize—
Rotting Bedlam swarms the sky.

Madness reigns, the world’s a fair
Where the petty lead the blind.
Like a plague beyond repair,
Faking nations fall in line.

That same plague infects the mind,
Branded CowID to be shown.
Hidden masters rule mankind,
Dragging all beneath the stone.

Fools obey and fools believe—
Most are eager for their chains.
Filth and ruin won’t deceive—
Vermin’s rule is all that reigns.



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



Original Sin

Gullibility's a blight,
Worse than any foe in sight.
Model citizen, so keen—
Tell them lies, they serve the scene.

Mind shut down and conscience dead,
They obey with blinded tread.
Gullibility, since birth,
Is the sin that doomed the earth.



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



"Roses" of Satanism

Roses, tears, and threats entwine,
Lies and whips in grand design.
Masks and poses, fear and haze,
Shadows twist in mirrored maze.

Madness swirls in tangled streams,
*****’s roses draped in death.
Rotting souls, decaying dreams,
Choking on their final breath.

Madness, sickness, minds decayed,
Empty shells in hollow bliss.
Outward—hope, so bright displayed,
But Satanic roses kiss.



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



Editing and "Culture"

Editing cuts with a frown,
Culling the best, shutting it down.
Not a hack? Then ***** their game—
Their culture is a sheep to tame.

Harsh? But war and CowID showed
Exactly how the story goes.
Few stand tall, the rest just flow—
The world, in sum, is less than Low.



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



Not venality

Monet, Renoir—
Did they chase gold,
Or let pure light
In art unfold?

Corruption is rot,
Yet stand and fight—
Serve truth and light,
Though lost to night.



--- Total 10 poems. ---

School’s a madhouse, pure oppression,
Crushing minds that stand untrained.
Lies injected in succession—
Diagnosis: blind and drained.

Opinion on Decay

Generations:
Degradation;
Serving evil—
Desecration.

Yet they claim—
Just opinion.
Fail again—
No suspicion.

Doubt is rare, a fleeting vision—
Like a bird near its extinction.



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



A shameful world, where freelance sites
Make workers pay to find their fights.
No chance to last—it's doomed to fall,
Drowned in chaos, lost to all.



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



The Moronic OVERWHELMING Majority

A fool will scheme, a fool will cheat,
No surprise—it's their deceit.
But their soul, a twisted thread,
Turns to darkness, sinks in dread.

Spreading filth on all around,
Like a madman, lost, unsound.
They are legion—filth takes hold,
Drowning truth in lies they sold.



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



At the Circus

Clowns in power, fools below—
A circus show, a drunken flow.
New Year's madness, spirits high,
Acrobats fall from the sky.

The clown’s red nose is bruised and blue,
The crowd’s too drunk to watch the view.
Tigers' cages—barely locked,
Now they're loose, their prey is clocked.

So don’t be rash, don’t end it yet—
Just wait a while… they’ll feast instead.



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



The Law of Large Numbers, or The Global System of Surveillance and Deceit

The watchful system, cold and vast,
Tracks every fool—each step, each task.
But in this world, so dark, so grim,
The smart, the honest—don’t fit in.

The brainless fall for every trick,
Marked and logged, a numbered brick.
And with those numbers, none resist—
They feed the beast, it slits their wrists.

CowID and war have made it clear:
Erase your name, just disappear.
Leave this madhouse far behind,
Where chains are placed upon the mind.



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



To Fight the Deformed

To battle the twisted,
You’ll clash with the dim—
For nonsense runs deep,
And fools drown within.

The ranks of the wicked
Have long been consumed—
What’s left are the crooked,
Obedient, doomed.



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



Sinking, Silent
Drowning, groaning,
Yet no cries.
Choking, moaning—
Media lies.

Lost in smoke,
Our souls betrayed,
Bent to evil,
Truth decayed,
Meekly waiting
For false paradise…



--- Total 7 poems. ---