7d
Negative Selection
"What conclusion did Voltaire, Hume and Kant finally come to? "The fact that the world is a hospital for the incurable."
—Arthur Schopenhauer.
A hospital for fools and crooks,
Who've long forgotten life’s true course:
They fight with those of their own looks,
And trust in liars with no remorse.
Man was meant to aid and brighten,
A spark divine—where has it gone?
Now he’s a donkey, beasts are driving—
A void remains, his will is none.
A few exceptions pass the test,
Yet only prove the rule once more:
They're safe while luck still grants them rest,
Not sifted through the ruthless lore.
Through that sieve the worms will stay,
The best discarded, thrown aside.
The worst will rise and seize the day—
For filth and rot will float to tide.
Age to age, the cycle runs,
A madhouse bleak, devoid of light.
No free minds—their time is done,
But glamor’s praise is shining bright.
---------------------
Fire and Renewal
Disgrace and blood will rise once more—
For slaves, one path remains to see:
Let flames consume this wretched lore,
Burn down the world of slavery.
One world, one mind—a single way,
The rot that filled all space is gone.
Perhaps the dawn of something gray
May yet emerge and carry on.
The old holds nothing but decay,
No future left, no second breath—
Its core commandment paves the way—
A lie that drives all minds to death.
---------------------
Nonsense and Independent Thought
Ears grew used to empty chatter,
Truth now sounds like distant noise.
Drowned in nonsense, lost its matter,
Fading reason, stolen voice.
Not a thought, but looping phrases,
Echoed views—a hollow reel.
Want to see? Just watch—he paces,
Like a donkey on a wheel.
Nonsense works to lure and bridle,
Keeps the blinders firm in place.
Even fashion takes its title
From its nonsense—mule erased...
---------------------
Not Falling...
Who takes flight will never fall—
Rise up high and soar alone!
Sink below, you're lost to all,
Drowned among the mindless drone.
Wings of Spirit lift you higher,
Thought will trace the path ahead.
Once you've soared, they’ll pull no wire—
Down below, they'll crush instead.
---------------------
Break It Down!
Smash the wheel—no Samsara’s chains!
A single soul won’t flee alone
From this madhouse, where remains
A world once trampled, overthrown
By vile BEASTS—so foul and rotten,
Hell itself would cast them out.
Break the walls, let none be forgotten,
Burn it all, erase the doubt.
From the shame that stains existence,
Sickened souls feel blood run cold.
Can this world fall any lower?
Rot and filth—it's uncontrolled!
But stay quiet—let them slumber,
Let their madness reach its end.
Soon their fate will tear asunder,
Soon there’s nothing left to mend.
---------------------
A Bold Full Stop
One last dot to end the story,
Summing up a hollow life—
Rotting slowly—fades its glory,
Nothing hard in ending strife.
True conclusions live in making,
In the search for something vast.
All the rest is dust, forsaking
Truth for fear—decay holds fast.
Fools embrace their dull delusion,
Mindless hordes, the walking dead.
Ruled through fear and mass confusion,
Led by lies their keepers spread.
Thus, to place that final marker—
Like a nightmare cut in two.
Only death can end the darkness,
Only death can pull you through.
Those who feel—forever prisoned,
Life becomes a lonesome plot.
All their struggle, all their vision
Ends within one bold full stop.
---------------------
The Fire-Breathing Dragon
A fire-breathing dragon looms—
No mere myth—it's in the "news".
Burns the mind, consumes the room,
Leaves you tame, enslaved, confused.
Flames seep in through every crack,
Reaching places dark and deep.
Trust in evil, stay off-track—
Fools will follow, blind in sleep.
Many heads this beast reveals,
Everywhere—it haunts the land.
Truth is lost, yet lies congeal
In the screen’s deceitful hand.
The fire-breathing dragon strikes,
Scorching all—the world decays.
Even laws seem weak alike—
Cheese that lures the mice to stay.
---------------------
Disposed...
A "miracle" of utter lies—
A fool was shaped, beyond repair.
This world of madness, dressed in vice,
Deserves disposal—strip it bare.
--- Total 8 poems. ---
"What conclusion did Voltaire, Hume and Kant finally come to? "The fact that the world is a hospital for the incurable."
—Arthur Schopenhauer.
A hospital for fools and crooks,
Who've long forgotten life’s true course:
They fight with those of their own looks,
And trust in liars with no remorse.
Man was meant to aid and brighten,
A spark divine—where has it gone?
Now he’s a donkey, beasts are driving—
A void remains, his will is none.
A few exceptions pass the test,
Yet only prove the rule once more:
They're safe while luck still grants them rest,
Not sifted through the ruthless lore.
Through that sieve the worms will stay,
The best discarded, thrown aside.
The worst will rise and seize the day—
For filth and rot will float to tide.
Age to age, the cycle runs,
A madhouse bleak, devoid of light.
No free minds—their time is done,
But glamor’s praise is shining bright.
---------------------
Fire and Renewal
Disgrace and blood will rise once more—
For slaves, one path remains to see:
Let flames consume this wretched lore,
Burn down the world of slavery.
One world, one mind—a single way,
The rot that filled all space is gone.
Perhaps the dawn of something gray
May yet emerge and carry on.
The old holds nothing but decay,
No future left, no second breath—
Its core commandment paves the way—
A lie that drives all minds to death.
---------------------
Nonsense and Independent Thought
Ears grew used to empty chatter,
Truth now sounds like distant noise.
Drowned in nonsense, lost its matter,
Fading reason, stolen voice.
Not a thought, but looping phrases,
Echoed views—a hollow reel.
Want to see? Just watch—he paces,
Like a donkey on a wheel.
Nonsense works to lure and bridle,
Keeps the blinders firm in place.
Even fashion takes its title
From its nonsense—mule erased...
---------------------
Not Falling...
Who takes flight will never fall—
Rise up high and soar alone!
Sink below, you're lost to all,
Drowned among the mindless drone.
Wings of Spirit lift you higher,
Thought will trace the path ahead.
Once you've soared, they’ll pull no wire—
Down below, they'll crush instead.
---------------------
Break It Down!
Smash the wheel—no Samsara’s chains!
A single soul won’t flee alone
From this madhouse, where remains
A world once trampled, overthrown
By vile BEASTS—so foul and rotten,
Hell itself would cast them out.
Break the walls, let none be forgotten,
Burn it all, erase the doubt.
From the shame that stains existence,
Sickened souls feel blood run cold.
Can this world fall any lower?
Rot and filth—it's uncontrolled!
But stay quiet—let them slumber,
Let their madness reach its end.
Soon their fate will tear asunder,
Soon there’s nothing left to mend.
---------------------
A Bold Full Stop
One last dot to end the story,
Summing up a hollow life—
Rotting slowly—fades its glory,
Nothing hard in ending strife.
True conclusions live in making,
In the search for something vast.
All the rest is dust, forsaking
Truth for fear—decay holds fast.
Fools embrace their dull delusion,
Mindless hordes, the walking dead.
Ruled through fear and mass confusion,
Led by lies their keepers spread.
Thus, to place that final marker—
Like a nightmare cut in two.
Only death can end the darkness,
Only death can pull you through.
Those who feel—forever prisoned,
Life becomes a lonesome plot.
All their struggle, all their vision
Ends within one bold full stop.
---------------------
The Fire-Breathing Dragon
A fire-breathing dragon looms—
No mere myth—it's in the "news".
Burns the mind, consumes the room,
Leaves you tame, enslaved, confused.
Flames seep in through every crack,
Reaching places dark and deep.
Trust in evil, stay off-track—
Fools will follow, blind in sleep.
Many heads this beast reveals,
Everywhere—it haunts the land.
Truth is lost, yet lies congeal
In the screen’s deceitful hand.
The fire-breathing dragon strikes,
Scorching all—the world decays.
Even laws seem weak alike—
Cheese that lures the mice to stay.
---------------------
Disposed...
A "miracle" of utter lies—
A fool was shaped, beyond repair.
This world of madness, dressed in vice,
Deserves disposal—strip it bare.
--- Total 8 poems. ---
(58/M/Moldova)
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