Born to Crawl in Lies
A people born to crawl in lies
Can never grasp the truth’s full sight.
No time to change, for "foreign spies
Are grasping at the country's might."
The same old tale, again, again,
They'll spin their lies for all to hear.
Oppression's root is clear, my friend—
It’s always built on lies and fear.
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The Great Game
The stakes are high, the game is vast,
It’s time to leave, but greed holds fast.
It strangles tight, it blinds the mind,
The end is near, a bitter kind.
You love the thrill, the risky play,
But don’t be bold—beware the sway.
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The Primary Truth
“Knowledge” often leads astray,
A path that ends in dark dismay.
Humble your mind, let instincts guide,
Embrace this truth, don’t run and hide.
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The Lies of the Beast
The beast marks Earth with lies it spouts,
Like dogs who mark their every route.
It’s hard to see through twisted schemes,
When people crawl like worms, it seems,
Within the womb of Nature’s care,
To lies and fear, they all comply.
In short: the lies, the fools, the scare,
Are ruled by filth that’s led to die.
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Little by Little
Little by little, we ascend,
Our minds awaken, but it’s spent.
It doesn’t save us, though, in fact—
For fear’s like bombs, and lies like gas.
Lies and fear have gripped us tight,
No ways to save us from this plight.
That’s why so many fall and sink
Into the dull, obscene, and stink.
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The Pyramid of Social Foolery, or "The Vertical of Power"
The "suits" are parts of the pyramid,
But the "vertical" is upside down:
At the top, the **** are hid,
And the king—a lying clown.
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Ace Beats the King
The ace beats king—this hand’s a test,
The cards lay out the truth’s unrest.
Above, the shadows pull the strings;
To them, the king’s just one of things.
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"The Cup of Life" Shattered
The cup of life has cracked and split—
The filth has conquered all of it.
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Lack of Courage
We lack the courage, that’s the truth,
So fascism’s orders come uncouth.
The fools, they suit up in a rush,
With helmets, masks, and bags to crush,
Together, quickly leave their lairs,
Marching with blind and soulless stares.
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Propaganda and Other Matters
Our Masha stirs the bitter brew,
While one more fool serves bitter stew,
Turning minds to filth and muck,
And law is served with chains and luck.
Masha’s break may come too soon—
In a madhouse or a cell,
Should the beasts begin to swoon,
She’ll follow them, as all things quell.
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The Free Ride
Free ride! Propaganda’s here,
And junk’s new—let’s all cheer!
The *******’s plans are cruel, no doubt,
A "hippo’s plague" to wipe us out.
It’s easy to fool the mindless herd,
To convince them with a word.
And we’ll die for nothing, cold and stark—
For a new dose of their dark spark.
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Where’s the Statistic?!
Robin Bobbin Barabek
Ate forty souls, what the heck…
How many has the junk in CowID?
Unknown—darkness, shame, and dread.
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Allies with North Korea
They’re friends with North Korea, true—
“Smart to the smart, and I to you.”
Rashism’s fate will surely bend
With Kim, and guns that never end.
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Football Fantasy
“A goal in the locker room”—then fall,
Lie down and think of times gone by,
A moment missed, though shameful, all,
To trip like that—it’s hard to try.
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Noodles for the Ears
A proverb’s not a tale,
You needn’t always lie.
But excuses prevail—
“It’s hard,” they’ll often cry.
It’ll be too dry,
Of little interest, yes.
The ear’s become a lie,
Pressed with noodles, no less.
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The Non-Paradise Grove
No need to guess with coffee grounds,
Or Tarot cards, or mystic sights,
For we’re surrounded by the bounds
Of groves—yet Hell is where it bites.
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The Hellish Groves
The groves grow thicker every year—
The human soul disappears here.
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Mental Lilliputians
A tiny pity it inspires—
Not for this was life begun.
Yet still the fool, with mind on fire,
Serves evil, and gets nothing done.
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Beer... Culture!
Fate, indeed, is a fool:
Where were you born, my friend?
Happiness—did you not bend?
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Goebbels' Press
Goebbels' media's all around—
No shortage of Judas to be found.
Far more fools who blindly trust,
Deceived by lies, they turn to dust.
CowID and war so bright,
Revealed it all, a ghastly sight.
Like poultices for the dead man’s pain,
The wise preach, but sheep march to their bane.
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The mammoth’s gone,
The fool remains—
Still won’t die, despite the pains.
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On Parasites, or the Enormous Monstrous Lie
The cat—
A flea.
The man—
A lie: it grows from age to age.
A man, like fleas, on lies will cling—
Even the cat will find it strange.
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Few fools have fallen yet,
Where's the work for propaganda to set?
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"Mice are falling from the roof!"
That’s how the liars speak the truth.
Now liars hold the highest place—
The fool believes the media's grace.
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Into delusion's grip we fall,
Madness reigns, and tyrants call.
A friend, a foe—what's left to see?
We've hit the bottom, can't break free.
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I’ve tasted Hell—
It was quite grim.
If Hell's this young—
The damage’s deep and dim.
--- Total 26 poems. ---