The Global Madhouse

The madhouse marches, all obsessed
With "happiness"—their sacred quest.
Yet truth rejected, none are healed,
Just thrown in line to serve the rest.

They stand with fools, they serve the beasts,
Oblivious to what’s at stake.
It’s not just lies that scorch and feast—
They brand the herd for slaughter’s sake.

No madhouse now—it's something worse:
A global pen, a cattle curse.
All else is but a fleeting dream,
As minds dissolve in laws of sleep.



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Weariness Is Just a Trace

Weariness lingers—no more than a trace
Of time spent trapped in this pitiful place.
Its trials can twist you, can shatter, can break,
Yet losing your soul is the worst of mistakes.

So listen within—let your spirit be guide,
Or sorrow will deepen and darken inside.
Endurance has limits—don’t let it decay,
Or doubt will consume you and lead you astray...
Till nothing remains but your soul in decay.



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A Common Ram and a Komodo Beast

A ram—a beast, yet not just so:
It spits its poison, full of woe.
This world’s a pit, a reeking mire—
A shooting range for liars dire.

Its venom stinks, yet fools still trust
The creatures bred in filth and dust.
And thus they thrive—this wretched swarm—
For poisoned tongues have set the norm.



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Idiots in Service of Fiends

The weakest fools of a dying land—
The greatest threat of all.
For scraps, they serve a monstrous hand
And heed deception’s call.

Through lies, they take their vile commands,
Then chaos spreads like fire.
Far worse than ruthless outlaw bands,
Yet courage? None aspire.

They win by numbers—countless throngs,
A mindless, endless mass.
Their greed relentless, loud and strong—
Throw coins, they’ll bite on "Fas!"

Obedient, they march ahead,
As CowID made clear:
The fiends are fed, the world lies dead,
And filth still drowns us here.



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Light in the Night

The road is walked by those who strive—
Yet not by all who tread.
The dreamers chasing "paradise"
Will lead to Hell instead.

For this world's twisted, upside-down,
Corrupted to the core.
Your sandals torn? Then bare your feet
And wade through filth once more.

Temptations try to block your way,
Deceitful paths unfold.
The false god’s world is bleak and grey,
Yet tales of bliss are sold.

A compass? Yes! Not empty lies,
But Light that shines within.
Find it—without its guiding rise,
Dark Night will draw you in.



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Resistance to Fascism, or From Hell to Hell

A “tiny orchestra of hope”
Plays false, while singers preach and lie.
In "paradise," the traitors rise—
Their “holy father” rules the sky.

But hope, in Satan’s vile domain,
Is foolish, empty, blind, and weak.
Resisting fascist rule is vain,
Yet filth you’ll never dare to seek.

Your soul stays pure—though doomed to burn,
You'll face the flames with head held high.
Forget false hopes and fools who yearn
For Hell where monsters drive the sly.



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Oh, doctor dear, the soul's in pain!
Keep your bandage—it's in vain.
Through CowID, we all could see—
Gold, not healing, pleases thee.



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Propagandist

A arsonist walks among men—
Not a thief and not a foe.
He's the devil’s voice and pen,
Spreading lies where’er we go.



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The WHAT is naught, the HOW is slight,
Yet things should work a different way.
And what we have? A rotten blight—
To cast it out’s the grandest play.



--- Total 9 poems ---