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The Reign of Hell

Hell stands empty — every beast
Has rushed here for the feast.
They roast us all with LIES,
And fear’s their side-dish prize.

The media, all possessed,
Spread terror, filth, unrest.
They swell deceit and shame,
Make people fools — the same.

They crown decay as treasure,
They smear the good with lies.
They drown us in false measure,
We choke on hollow sighs.

Their chains are spun of thread,
Like cobwebs — thin, at first…
But soon all souls are led
To swinehood, by the cursed.

Their “truth” is proved by might,
By force, if they must show.
While honest men lose fight,
In shame and weakness bow.

The honest — few remain,
Each year their number shrinks.
Propaganda’s poisoned chain
Turns fools to mobs that stink.

Thus efforts bring their fruit:
The **** now rule the stage.
Fascistic spawn take root,
Their triumph fouls the age.

But soon the end will fall —
A worldwide, final flame.
The reign of Hell, with all
Its fascist spawn — erased in shame.



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




Hell’s throne will crack,
The **** will fall.
Their lies turn black —
The End burns all.

---

Fascist beasts, your feast is done —
The fire comes, and none shall run.

---

Chains of lies will snap, collapse —
Hell shall choke on its own traps.



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




Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

---

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

---

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

---

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

---

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

---

**** of the pit —
The end has writ!

---

Beasts of the lie —
Prepare to die!



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




Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!



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




The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.



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




The stars shall fall, the sun turn black,
The beasts shall drown, no turning back.
The trumpet calls, the heavens tear —
The Judge has come — and none shall spare.



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




The heavens roar —
Hell is no more.

The Trumpet cries —
The Beast all dies.

The sky is flame —
Erased their name.

The End is near —
Now burn in fear.



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




Hell falls.
Truth reigns.

The Beast is slain.
The Light shall reign.



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




Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

**** of the pit —
The end has writ!

Beasts of the lie —
Prepare to die!



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




The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.

The stars shall fall, the sun turn black,
The beasts shall drown, no turning back.
The trumpet calls, the heavens tear —
The Judge has come — and none shall spare.

The Thrones of Hell shall crumble,
The Earth shall sing the Light’s return.



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



Overturn

A brain revolt from edge to edge,
Space cracked with fissures, shifts, and sway:
In Hell, the devils chose to pledge
To build a paradise that day
For generations yet to come.

They built it, then on Earth began
To mix the heaven with the pit.
And all sank into mists that span,
With devils ruling everywhere they sit.

Here God’s Spark from above is given —
Yet devils thirst to ***** its flame.
They dragged this world down to the riven,
And fascism now consumes its name.

If you’re no traitor, fool, or spy,
There’s no path through those Hellish Loops
That idiots call “hierarchy” on high.
Step there, and you’ll become one of the troops.

Propagandists within those chains,
Directly under devils’ feet,
Instill in fools their lies, their pains —
A flood of filth that sweeps the street.

From this filth a tidal wave will rise,
Already spilling as an ocean wide.
Yet only the dull, the greedy, unwise
Consume what screens of zombied minds provide.

The fool is no accident — they’ve made
All dull through countless generations.
It’s easier then to **** the Soul,
Reaching long the peak of decomposition.

The peak is reached. Now there’s NO LIMIT —
Look around; these are not men, but shells.
Rotting forms serve devils’ banquet,
Their hollow eyes where darkness dwells.

They stir up fear, ignite emotions,
Hell’s **** feeds on the flames they sow.
They drive to wars and servitude,
Plant every vile seed they know.

Yet the End will not be like the Flood —
The flood of lies has gone beyond control.
Only the Sun’s light can drive them down,
Yet even that hangs over this world whole.

Those who kept Spirit and Honor in this Hell
Will pass to worlds where suffering fades.
The traitor, the callous, or the fool —
All march to New Hell to continue their pains.



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




Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.



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




Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Devils rule,
The world decays.
Spirit fights —
Through darkest haze.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

Fools consume,
The devils feast.
Light survives —
And ends the beast.



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




Hell falls, the Spark endures —
The New World rises pure.



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




From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Hell falls.
Truth reigns.

The Beast is slain.
The Light shall reign.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

**** of the pit —
The end has writ!

Beasts of the lie —
Prepare to die!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.

The stars shall fall, the sun turn black,
The beasts shall drown, no turning back.
The trumpet calls, the heavens tear —
The Judge has come — and none shall spare.

The Thrones of Hell shall crumble,
The Earth shall sing the Light’s return.



II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Devils rule,
The world decays.
Spirit fights —
Through darkest haze.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

Fools consume,
The devils feast.
Light survives —
And ends the beast.

---

Hell falls, the Spark endures —
The New World rises pure.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.



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



Go!

You are the light of my eyes,
The princess of sweetest dreams,
The star of long-lost nights,
And… the cancer of my schemes.

This is true captivity —
All the fools’ desires and rage.
It’s vanished into futility —
You’ve freed yourself from the cage.

Chains forged through passion,
Through lies, through “life” itself —
How hard to avoid compassion
For this world’s collective hell.

A hell for Mind, for Spirit too —
You serve only filth in this pit.
If you don’t stop, the curse will pursue —
And then you’ll turn into the ****.

Step boldly forward —
OUT of here!
Strike out the PAST,
The Dawn awaits somewhere near.

Unclear… but go —
Leave this infernal sphere.
Expect nothing,
Unless your reason’s clear.

From Hell to Hell you tread —
A common path, a usual route.
No meaning will you find here,
Only dread — and nothing to boot.

Paths are pointless,
“Life” itself is vain.
To find the Light,
First wake from your pain.

Seek it DEEP WITHIN —
The journey’s not too long.
You’ll reach the Dawn this way.
So go — be brave, be strong!!!



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




Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

Past is gone —
Forward, strong.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

From chains to dawn —
Break free, move on!
The Light awaits —
So march strong.

Go! Don’t look back —
The past is gone.
Rise through the dark —
And carry on.

Hell is behind —
Courage ahead.
Wake your mind —
Leave the dead.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Hell falls.
Truth reigns.

The Beast is slain.
The Light shall reign.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

**** of the pit —
The end has writ!

Beasts of the lie —
Prepare to die!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.

The stars shall fall, the sun turn black,
The beasts shall drown, no turning back.
The trumpet calls, the heavens tear —
The Judge has come — and none shall spare.

The Thrones of Hell shall crumble,
The Earth shall sing the Light’s return.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Devils rule,
The world decays.
Spirit fights —
Through darkest haze.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

Fools consume,
The devils feast.
Light survives —
And ends the beast.

---

Hell falls, the Spark endures —
The New World rises pure.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

Past is gone —
Forward, strong.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

From chains to dawn —
Break free, move on!
The Light awaits —
So march strong.

Go! Don’t look back —
The past is gone.
Rise through the dark —
And carry on.

Hell is behind —
Courage ahead.
Wake your mind —
Leave the dead.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.



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



The Sewerman

Exploiting the body’s needs
Just to slay the Soul within —
A fiend performs such sordid deeds,
A soulless world’s built from sin.

The path is doubt, the path is fear,
Concern for what the next day brings.
And lies and ******* pressure near —
And down you sink, where darkness clings.

If you trust Evil, bow in fright,
Crown “necessity” on high,
You’ll turn into a wretched blight
Where Spirit dies and Mind must fly.

And this is planned, not mere mistake —
Madness has been sown throughout.
The dulling is so vast, opaque:
No Mind remains — just slime and clout.

Though materialism thrives,
And pseudo-science spreads its bloom,
The plague of poverty deprives,
And crushes Spirit, feeds the gloom.

This poverty is no mere chance —
It forms the base of “being’s law.”
A dull slave bound, denied advance,
While breakthroughs hide behind the flaw.

Yet doors are open, everywhere —
And ruin poisons all it sees.
The fools believe in falsehoods there,
The science-mad, absurdities.

They’ve lost all subtlety, all sense,
Intuition gone, dismissed.
Media lies build their defense,
Insanity now clenched in fist.

Hell is built. Its only fate —
To be consigned to total waste.
The rot has grown too vast, too great —
Time to sweep this filth in haste.

And now the Sun begins its work —
The Sewerman arrives at last!
He burns the traitors, fools, the **** —
Farewell, corrupt and greedy ***!



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




The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

---

Filth and lies —
He clears the way!
Corrupt shall fall,
The light will stay!

---

Evil thrives —
No more, no more!
The Sewerman strikes,
And ends the score!

---

Rot and greed —
The end is near!
Burn the fools,
The dawn is clear!



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




Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

---

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

---

Filth destroyed —
The traitors fall.

--

Evil ends —
Justice calls.

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Hell falls.
Truth reigns.

The Beast is slain.
The Light shall reign.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

**** of the pit —
The end has writ!

Beasts of the lie —
Prepare to die!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.

The stars shall fall, the sun turn black,
The beasts shall drown, no turning back.
The trumpet calls, the heavens tear —
The Judge has come — and none shall spare.

The Thrones of Hell shall crumble,
The Earth shall sing the Light’s return.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Devils rule,
The world decays.
Spirit fights —
Through darkest haze.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

Fools consume,
The devils feast.
Light survives —
And ends the beast.

---

Hell falls, the Spark endures —
The New World rises pure.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

Past is gone —
Forward, strong.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

From chains to dawn —
Break free, move on!
The Light awaits —
So march strong.

Go! Don’t look back —
The past is gone.
Rise through the dark —
And carry on.

Hell is behind —
Courage ahead.
Wake your mind —
Leave the dead.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

Filth destroyed —
The traitors fall.

Evil ends —
Justice calls.

---

The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

Filth and lies —
He clears the way!
Corrupt shall fall,
The light will stay!

Evil thrives —
No more, no more!
The Sewerman strikes,
And ends the score!

Rot and greed —
The end is near!
Burn the fools,
The dawn is clear!

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.



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



The Path of Courage

The path of courage is harsh, not bright —
You walk through brambles of deceit.
Mistakes are many, missteps in sight —
Yet that’s the norm, where mirages meet.

Around the path, when all you’ve spurned
Is the CONDITIONAL, seeking truth,
The world has perished, by fear adjourned,
Trembling at lies, in shattered sooth.

It clings to filth and vile disdain,
Calling all its trash a “treasure.”
The few possess a daring vein,
A Mind and Soul in fusion, pure measure.

If strong you are, tread paths that test
Your strength and courage, steel your heart.
For far away are fools, at best,
Where all is clogged with falsehoods’ art.

Father and mother, nation, clan —
All made of cowards, nothing more.
Only the Spirit is supreme, the plan,
It knows the way to leave Hell’s door.

We all dwell in Hell, remember this —
All else is just absurdity.
All meetings here are emptiness,
All unions bloodless, merely vanity.
And little here is NOT the herd.

Herds and Spirit — two separate things,
They never merge, no hand can bind.
Only the herd applauds its ****** kings,
Yet Nothing leads it, empty and blind.

The path of courage is close to Death:
Only in dying do you rise anew.
“Arhats,” trust no one’s false breath,
FEAR NOT — or ruin follows you.



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




Walk the path —
Through lies and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Courage burns —
The herd deceives.
Spirit stands —
The falsehood leaves!

---

Tread the fire —
Defy the herd.
Trust your Soul —
Ignore their word!

---

Strength is tested —
Death is near.
Fear not, rise —
The Spirit steers!



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




Walk through Hell —
The Spirit guides.

---

Fear no death —
Courage abides.

---

Rise, stand strong —
The herd will fall.

---

Tread the fire —
Answer the call.



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




Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.



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



I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

----

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.



IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

---

The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.

V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell —
The Spirit guides.

Fear no death —
Courage abides.

---

Walk the path —
Through lies and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.



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



It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

“It’s not the ship reaching port that counts,
But that it sails a proper course.”

“Guilty and sinful are we all,
Those left alive.”
— Salvador Espriu, Holy Week, 1971

“The dead have no shame.”
— The Tale of Igor’s Campaign


Will your ship reach its goal
If the course is false and blind?
Seek the storms, the shoals, the shoal —
You’ll arrive at traitor-kind.

Pause, reflect, and see ahead —
Where does the crowd all go?
To gnaw, to follow, blindly led,
To worship lies they know.

The fate of the MAD enslaved —
Better the ninth wave’s crush.
The traitors and beasts have raved —
Majority lost in the rush.

If your vector points at THEM,
In any way entwined,
For all, for all, we shall condemn —
And soon, the law defined.

The Earth is laden with mad slaves,
Trod by boots of fascist vermin.
The remnants of Spirit, Honor, Brains
Are crushed beneath their burden stern.

The tenth wave comes as vengeance true,
It shakes the fiends to bone.
We steer the ship not for amuse —
To right some sins, atone.

Though some are lost, the dead are just,
The righteous sail with storm and gust.



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




Steer the ship —
The storms will guide.

---

Falsehoods rage —
The wave decides.

---

To traitors’ path —
We do not bend.

---

Tenth wave strikes —
The just ascend.



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




Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.



IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

---

The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell —
The Spirit guides.

Fear no death —
Courage abides.

---

Walk the path —
Through lies and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship —
The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage —
The wave decides.

To traitors’ path —
We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes —
The just ascend.

---

Walk the ship —
Through storms and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.



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



Global Warming

The filth of wretched lives
Drains all strength, kills the Soul.
“Just grit your teeth,” one strives,
In the farce of fools’ control.

Serving *******,
Betrayal is the base.
Worshiping prejudices,
Among learned *****’ race.

Lies dangle like a carrot,
Blindfolds made of the same.
The world’s only praised through hammering,
Yet stale the patterns became —

Those who once were human,
Now donkeys, all in line.
Burn the pens, the pens of madness!
Behold, Mura caught fire divine:

The Sun now shines much stronger!
“Cows ****!” they say —
Blame the *****, linger no longer,
Time to leave this Hell away.

The filth of worldwide folly
Will be burned in the furnace deep.
If you think of skin alone,
Your worth is cheap.

Pure Spirit, Conscious Mind —
The foundation of all things.
Who rules the Misty Hell designed
For *****, in vile strings?

The few… surrounded by pens,
And in those pens, the ***** stay.
They gorge on tons of deceptions,
Feeding the Mist’s dark sway.

The Sun burns like a log on fire,
The magma rises, all will burn!
Here lies the cause of warming,
Its goal — to overturn Hell’s turn.

Those few shall be saved —
In the World of Spirit, their place.
Enough to bend —
All in vain, all smoke, no grace.



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




Sun burns fierce —
The ***** fall.

---

Smoke and flame —
Hell turns small.

--

Feed the Mist no more —
The few shall rise.

---

Pure Spirit stands —
The lies will die.



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




The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

---

The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell —
The Spirit guides.

Fear no death —
Courage abides.

---

Walk the path —
Through lies and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship —
The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage —
The wave decides.

To traitors’ path —
We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes —
The just ascend.

---

Walk the ship —
Through storms and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.


VII. Global Warming

Sun burns fierce —
The ***** fall.

Smoke and flame —
Hell turns small.

Feed the Mist no more —
The few shall rise.

Pure Spirit stands —
The lies will die.

---

The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.



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



True Values

A pre-flood machine of degraded aims —
Hence fascism spreads, and shadows roam.
Yet blood and flesh mean nothing in these games:
Pure Spirit stands — the soul’s true home.

Pure Mind, if Spirit is refined,
Reveals what servants cannot know.
They value not the rare, the undefined,
Blind to what above them grows.

Pure Mind, Pure Spirit — all else decays,
The rest is boredom, folly, lies.
Degradants cut your ears with haze,
With murk, falsehood, trivial ties.

If near a fool, step far away,
Lest luck depart — the dull infect.
The dumber, more contagious, they sway,
A world of fools, the intellect they wreck.

Stupidity — a sin, a plague, a blight,
Though we dwell where degradants reign.
Step lightly, seek the giants’ light,
For without the wise, all knowledge vain.

If in this Hell your courage fades,
No caution saves you from decay.
Fight to the end — the soul is weighed,
Saving spirits where Hell holds sway.

The pre-flood machine of degraded aims —
Its final act is idiocy.
The world bows low before the beast,
But Spirit, Pure, shall ever be.



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




Pure Spirit stands —
Fools fall away.

---

Seek the Mind —
The false decay.

---

Fight to save the Soul —
Degradants fail.

---

Stand unbowed —
The Truth prevails.



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




Pure Spirit rises, unbowed and bright,
Through shadowed fools and endless night.
The Mind endures, the soul prevails,
Degradants crumble — the Truth unveils.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall —
We burn it all!

Fascist lies —
The Fire replies!

****’s parade —
Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief —
The End brings grief.

---

Rise, brothers, rise — the night shall fall,
Their lies will break, their thrones will crawl.
The fire speaks, the truth is near,
Hell’s reign is done — no place for fear!

From ashes we rise —
Hell’s crown is crushed!

No tyrant survives —
The Fire is just!

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours —
The Spark fights on.

Fools obey —
The Light will dawn.

Devils rise —
The Soul survives.

Chains will break —
The world awakes.

---

Hell reigns —
The fools obey.
The Spark survives —
They’ll burn away.

Chains of lies,
A flood of dread.
Keep your Soul —
Or join the dead.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell —
The Light awaits.

Break your chains —
Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave —
Leave the grave.

---

Step forward now —
Leave Hell behind.
Seek the Light within —
No fear, no bind.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged —
The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn —
The light remains.

---

The rot has grown —
The Sewerman comes!
Traitors burn,
The purge is done!

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell —
The Spirit guides.

Fear no death —
Courage abides.

---

Walk the path —
Through lies and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship —
The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage —
The wave decides.

To traitors’ path —
We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes —
The just ascend.

---

Walk the ship —
Through storms and flame!
Fear no death —
Rise in name!

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.


VII. Global Warming

Sun burns fierce —
The ***** fall.

Smoke and flame —
Hell turns small.

Feed the Mist no more —
The few shall rise.

Pure Spirit stands —
The lies will die.

---

The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.


VIII. True Values

Pure Spirit stands —
Fools fall away.

Seek the Mind —
The false decay.

Fight to save the Soul —
Degradants fail.

Stand unbowed —
The Truth prevails.

---

Pure Spirit rises, unbowed and bright,
Through shadowed fools and endless night.
The Mind endures, the soul prevails,
Degradants crumble — the Truth unveils.



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



Foundations

Efforts wasted, lost in blight,
The Foundations fade from sight.
Ugliness and feebleness reign,
The *****’ struggle is all in vain.

Forget the Basics — folly grows,
And lies and rudeness all impose.
Return the Foundations — shine the soul,
Let Light respond, and make it whole.

In lies all drowns — enough of games
Where beasts spend all on evil aims.
The spirit pure, intellect bright,
Serves the soul, dispels the night.

War is waged through lies and sham,
Its base is dull deceit, its plan.
Fascism spreads, the world’s a stage,
Crowds dream in terror, rage, and cage.

Books are poisoned, wisdom lost,
Only Light is free of cost.
Seek within — the Inner Light,
Cast off the chains that bind your sight.

Efforts wasted, lost in blight,
You sink in lies and rot’s despite,
Ensnared by countless chains and binds,
While Foundations vanish from all minds.



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




Seek the Light —
Cast off the chains.

---

Foundations lost —
Rise through the blight.

---

Lies will fall —
The Spirit stands.

---

Break the binds —
Let Truth command.



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




Foundations lost, the lies expand,
Yet Light will rise to cleanse the land.
Chains will shatter, rot decay,
The Spirit’s truth shall guide the way.



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




Light will rise —
Chains will break.
Spirit stands —
Lies shall quake.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall — We burn it all!

Fascist lies — The Fire replies!

****’s parade — Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief — The End brings grief.

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours — The Spark fights on.

Fools obey — The Light will dawn.

Devils rise — The Soul survives.

Chains will break — The world awakes.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell — The Light awaits.

Break your chains — Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave — Leave the grave.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged — The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn — The light remains.

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell — The Spirit guides.

Fear no death — Courage abides.

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship — The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage — The wave decides.

To traitors’ path — We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes — The just ascend.

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.


VII. Global Warming

Sun burns fierce — The ***** fall.

Smoke and flame — Hell turns small.

Feed the Mist no more — The few shall rise.

Pure Spirit stands — The lies will die.

---

The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.


VIII. True Values

Pure Spirit stands — Fools fall away.

Seek the Mind — The false decay.

Fight to save the Soul — Degradants fail.

Stand unbowed — The Truth prevails.

---

Pure Spirit rises, unbowed and bright,
Through shadowed fools and endless night.
The Mind endures, the soul prevails,
Degradants crumble — the Truth unveils.


IX. Foundations

Seek the Light — Cast off the chains.

Foundations lost — Rise through the blight.

Lies will fall — The Spirit stands.

Break the binds — Let Truth command.

---

Foundations lost, the lies expand,
Yet Light will rise to cleanse the land.
Chains will shatter, rot decay,
The Spirit’s truth shall guide the way.



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



BEYONDTIME

Time is not money, but eternity.
Few have “access” to its clarity,
Those who kept their human dignity
And never bowed to vile depravity.

Pseudo-linear links —
“Causality” thrown to the devils.
Not in this world of stinking stinks —
This Shameful Bedlam fools the rebels.

Their time is endless degradation,
Through centuries without cessation;
Pure Spirit meets stagnation,
Wild fascism thrives in foolish nations.

With solid props and brazen haze
Of reckless, fiery lies ablaze.
Time is not money, but a stew
Of Hellish brew for beasts to do.

Time and place exist somewhere;
To seek the path to freedom rare.
Instead, they march to camps as one,
CowID showed what they’d become.

Disgusting fiends have killed all shame,
Only few cry out “Away!” in vain.
The chaos floods, the wild insane,
Hell swallows reason in its reign.

Madness so total, Light is blind,
Its power lost to humankind.
The Sun’s last greeting scorches Earth,
Burning away this filth and dearth.

The Sun burns stronger, magma nears,
A world on madness’ edge disappears.
The game of Light will claim it all,
As old illusions break and fall.

A New Time comes — BEYONDTIME,
Where free tribes will rise sublime.
Those baptized in fire will pass,
The chosen few will claim at last.

Insight in Time is hard to see —
The wretched beasts will cease to be.



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




Time is beyond —
Light will burn the vile.

---
Beasts shall fall —
The few shall rise.

---

Hell consumed —
Truth resumed.

---

Madness ends —
The Light defends.



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



BEYONDTIME — The Final Dawn

The Sun ignites, the magma roars,
Hellish filth shall grace no more.
From madness’ grip, the few arise,
Baptized in fire, their souls the prize.

Chains of darkness break in flame,
The Light restores the Spirit’s name.
Time beyond — eternal, free,
The beasts consumed, the soul shall be.



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




Light ignites —
Beasts will fall.
Few arise —
Time conquers all.



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall — We burn it all!

Fascist lies — The Fire replies!

****’s parade — Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief — The End brings grief.

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours — The Spark fights on.

Fools obey — The Light will dawn.

Devils rise — The Soul survives.

Chains will break — The world awakes.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell — The Light awaits.

Break your chains — Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave — Leave the grave.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman


Rot is purged — The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn — The light remains.

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell — The Spirit guides.

Fear no death — Courage abides.

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship — The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage — The wave decides.

To traitors’ path — We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes — The just ascend.

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.


VII. Global Warming

Sun burns fierce — The ***** fall.

Smoke and flame — Hell turns small.

Feed the Mist no more — The few shall rise.

Pure Spirit stands — The lies will die.

---

The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.

VIII. True Values

Pure Spirit stands — Fools fall away.

Seek the Mind — The false decay.

Fight to save the Soul — Degradants fail.

Stand unbowed — The Truth prevails.

---

Pure Spirit rises, unbowed and bright,
Through shadowed fools and endless night.
The Mind endures, the soul prevails,
Degradants crumble — the Truth unveils.


IX. Foundations

Seek the Light — Cast off the chains.

Foundations lost — Rise through the blight.

Lies will fall — The Spirit stands.

Break the binds — Let Truth command.

---

Foundations lost, the lies expand,
Yet Light will rise to cleanse the land.
Chains will shatter, rot decay,
The Spirit’s truth shall guide the way.


X. BEYONDTIME

Time is beyond — Light will burn the vile.

Beasts shall fall — The few shall rise.

Hell consumed — Truth resumed.

Madness ends — The Light defends.

---

The Sun ignites, the magma roars,
Hellish filth shall grace no more.
From madness’ grip, the few arise,
Baptized in fire, their souls the prize.

Chains of darkness break in flame,
The Light restores the Spirit’s name.
Time beyond — eternal, free,
The beasts consumed, the soul shall be.



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



Go or Die!

Go! Go!!! Shackled by lies,
Foolish, lost? That’s everyone’s fate!
In consciousness, the chains arise —
So strong, the “path” of a slave is straight.

Or is it mind’s expansion wide? —
This is the path to Freedom’s door:
It halts decay, sweeps horror aside,
And purges all the dread and more:

The dread of traitors and of fascists,
Shame of greed, the fear that binds,
Stamped with idiotism persists,
The world’s foul dust corrupts all minds.

Go! Go!!! Don’t blindly trust
The endless lies, the trembling age.
Build the world anew, you must —
Only thus escape Hell’s cage!

World or Hell? Decide your way.
Too many fools command the show —
They rule by lies, decay holds sway,
Foundations rot where falsehoods grow.

The task is vile lies’ *******.
If you act with this, will luck appear?
Unlikely. Yet in total negation
You won’t be turned to nothing here —

Your Soul will survive the fight,
In the New World you may arise.
On a slave you can mark your plight,
But in Spirit alone the path flies.

The lower world exists — there’s below:
Countless spheres of Hell’s domain.
In Spirit, higher heights you’ll know,
To “supra-consciousness” you’ll gain.

This “supra” is for the low.
Few minds remain, most lost in sway.
The “norms” are only those who go
Downward blindly, led astray.

Go! Go!!! Rebuild your mind,
Cast off lies and break the chain.
Or, a senseless sheep confined,
In the New Hell you’ll remain.

Go! — to move, to rise, to live,
Go! — or all that’s true will die.



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




Go! Go! — Break your chains,
Dread will fall, the Spirit reigns.
Build anew, or fade away,
In the New Hell none shall stay.



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



Go or Die! — The Final Call

Go! Go! — The chains ignite,
Fools shall stumble, lost to night.
From Hell’s decay, the Spirit soars,
The New World rises, breaking doors.

Dread shall shatter, lies undone,
The path of Freedom has begun.
Build your mind, cast off the lie,
Or fade to ashes — go or die!



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




I. The Reign of Hell

Hell will fall — We burn it all!

Fascist lies — The Fire replies!

****’s parade — Doom’s blade!

Their reign is brief — The End brings grief.

---

The sky shall crack, the seas shall flame,
The beasts of Hell erased in shame.
The final storm, the trumpet’s breath —
The end of lies, the reign of Death.


II. Overturn

Hell devours — The Spark fights on.

Fools obey — The Light will dawn.

Devils rise — The Soul survives.

Chains will break — The world awakes.

---

From Hell’s revolt to the edge of night,
The Spark endured, defied their blight.
The chains of lies, the flood of pain,
Shall break at last — the Light will reign.


III. Go!

Step from Hell — The Light awaits.

Break your chains — Rise through the flames.

Go! Be brave — Leave the grave.

---

From Hell you rise, the past erased,
The inner Light your path embraced.
Step boldly forth through dark and fear,
The Dawn awaits — your way is clear.


IV. The Sewerman

Rot is purged — The Sewerman reigns.

Fools will burn — The light remains.

---

From rot and lies the world shall rise,
The Sewerman strikes, the falsehood dies.
Traitors consumed, corruption burned,
The Light restored — all debts returned.


V. The Path of Courage

Walk through Hell — The Spirit guides.

Fear no death — Courage abides.

---

Through brambles of deceit, the Spirit flies,
Fear and falsehood shattered under open skies.
Walk the path of courage, heed no call of death,
Rise eternal, strong, with every breath.


VI. It Doesn’t Matter If the Ship Reaches Its Goal

Steer the ship — The storms will guide.

Falsehoods rage — The wave decides.

To traitors’ path — We do not bend.

Tenth wave strikes — The just ascend.

---

Steer true through storms, let waves decide,
Falsehood and fear shall turn the tide.
The tenth wave rises, justice calls,
The ship sails on — the righteous thralls.


VII. Global Warming

Sun burns fierce — The ***** fall.

Smoke and flame — Hell turns small.

Feed the Mist no more — The few shall rise.

Pure Spirit stands — The lies will die.

---

The filth of fools shall burn away,
The Sun ignites a brighter day.
Through smoke and lies, the Spirit flies,
The few shall rise — the falsehood dies.


VIII. True Values

Pure Spirit stands — Fools fall away.

Seek the Mind — The false decay.

Fight to save the Soul — Degradants fail.

Stand unbowed — The Truth prevails.

---

Pure Spirit rises, unbowed and bright,
Through shadowed fools and endless night.
The Mind endures, the soul prevails,
Degradants crumble — the Truth unveils.


IX. Основы

Seek the Light — Cast off the chains.

Foundations lost — Rise through the blight.

Lies will fall — The Spirit stands.

Break the binds — Let Truth command.

---

Foundations lost, the lies expand,
Yet Light will rise to cleanse the land.
Chains will shatter, rot decay,
The Spirit’s truth shall guide the way.


X. BEYONDTIME

Time is beyond — Light will burn the vile.

Beasts shall fall — The few shall rise.

Hell consumed — Truth resumed.

Madness ends — The Light defends.

---

The Sun ignites, the magma roars,
Hellish filth shall grace no more.
From madness’ grip, the few arise,
Baptized in fire, their souls the prize.

Chains of darkness break in flame,
The Light restores the Spirit’s name.
Time beyond — eternal, free,
The beasts consumed, the soul shall be.


XI. Go or Die!

Go! Go! — Break your chains,
Dread will fall, the Spirit reigns.

Build anew, or fade away,
In the New Hell none shall stay.

---

Go! Go! — The chains ignite,
Fools shall stumble, lost to night.
From Hell’s decay, the Spirit soars,
The New World rises, breaking doors.

Dread shall shatter, lies undone,
The path of Freedom has begun.
Build your mind, cast off the lie,
Or fade to ashes — go or die!



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



The Population of Earth

Three-quarters rotten, vile, and dumb,
Soulless, foolish — they’re truly none!
Among the bought-out, crazed, insane,
The sane and honest seem deranged.

Don’t babble of “attacks” or lies —
This idiocy before your eyes.
The CowID shame, the ignorant fall
In terror under fascist thrall.

When rashism storms the motherland,
The depths of ruin starkly stand.
Madness reigns, not drunken cheer,
The earth trembles under **** so near.

And **** rules, a creature vile —
Clear only to a fool’s own guile.
This fiend lays falsehood like soft cloth,
A fall complete — from top to trough.

Beneath this fiend, just scoundrels lie —
Surpassed by ****** in vileness high.
The layer of the wise is thin, so slight —
Reason soon exiled from sight.

A concentration camp of **** arises,
Worldwide, firm — digital devices.
Red cross on white flags boldly show,
“Treatment” for all whose minds are low.

The sick are strong here, fools abound,
Each dim day more madness found.
They bolster fascist, cruel might —
CowID burned in fiery sight.

CowID silenced — yet this world
Can still be wasted by the spoiled.
Now war is raging, fools find glee,
In camps to follow, misery.

Lesson failed — “F” is earned!
By false affliction, all discerned.
Ahead, the storms and endless blight,
For they transform the world to night.



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




Rot and **** rule the land,
Fools and fiends at every hand.
Madness spreads, the wise are few —
Burn the lies, the Light breaks through.



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



The Population of Earth

Rise, O Light, through rot and ****,
Break the chains, let Justice come!
Fools shall falter, tyrants burn,
The world renewed — the wise return.

Madness crumbles, lies undone,
From ashes bright, a brighter sun.
Stand, O Spirit, fierce and free,
Exile **** — restore the sea.



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



The Population of Earth

Rot and **** rule the land,
Fools and fiends at every hand.
Madness spreads, the wise are few —
Burn the lies, the Light breaks through.

---

Three-quarters rotten, vile, and dumb,
Soulless, foolish — they’re truly none!
Among the bought-out, crazed, insane,
The sane and honest seem deranged.

Don’t babble of “attacks” or lies —
This idiocy before your eyes.
The CowID shame, the ignorant fall
In terror under fascist thrall.

When rashism storms the motherland,
The depths of ruin starkly stand.
Madness reigns, not drunken cheer,
The earth trembles under **** so near.

And **** rules, a creature vile —
Clear only to a fool’s own guile.
This fiend lays falsehood like soft cloth,
A fall complete — from top to trough.

Beneath this fiend, just scoundrels lie —
Surpassed by ****** in vileness high.
The layer of the wise is thin, so slight —
Reason soon exiled from sight.

A concentration camp of **** arises,
Worldwide, firm — digital devices.
Red cross on white flags boldly show,
“Treatment” for all whose minds are low.

The sick are strong here, fools abound,
Each dim day more madness found.
They bolster fascist, cruel might —
CowID burned in fiery sight.

CowID silenced — yet this world
Can still be wasted by the spoiled.
Now war is raging, fools find glee,
In camps to follow, misery.

Lesson failed — “F” is earned!
By false affliction, all discerned.
Ahead, the storms and endless blight,
For they transform the world to night.

---

Rise, O Light, through rot and ****,
Break the chains, let Justice come!
Fools shall falter, tyrants burn,
The world renewed — the wise return.

Madness crumbles, lies undone,
From ashes bright, a brighter sun.
Stand, O Spirit, fierce and free,
Exile **** — restore the sea.



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



Go or Die!

Go! Go! Chains of lies,
Shatter, flee where freedom flies!
Path of Spirit, fierce and true,
Or the abyss will swallow you.

---

Go! Go!!! Bound by lies,
Dulled and numbed? That’s fate’s disguise!
Chains in mind, too strong to break —
The slave’s “path” or consciousness awake?

Expand your mind — the Freedom way,
Stop decay and sweep the dread away:
Treachery, fascism, shame, and fear,
A world of vile ashes here.

The dread of traitors and of fascists,
Shame of greed, the fear that binds,
Stamped with idiotism persists,
The world’s foul dust corrupts all minds.

Go! Go!!! Don’t blindly trust
The endless lies, the trembling age.
Build the world anew, you must —
Only thus escape Hell’s cage!

World or Hell? Decide your way.
Too many fools command the show —
They rule by lies, decay holds sway,
Foundations rot where falsehoods grow.

The task is vile lies’ *******.
If you act with this, will luck appear?
Unlikely. Yet in total negation
You won’t be turned to nothing here —

Your Soul will survive the fight,
In the New World you may arise.
On a slave you can mark your plight,
But in Spirit alone the path flies.

The lower world exists — there’s below:
Countless spheres of Hell’s domain.
In Spirit, higher heights you’ll know,
To “supra-consciousness” you’ll gain.

This “supra” is for the low.
Few minds remain, most lost in sway.
The “norms” are only those who go
Downward blindly, led astray.

Go! Go!!! Rebuild your mind,
Cast off lies and break the chain.
Or, a senseless sheep confined,
In the New Hell you’ll remain.

Go! — to move, to rise, to live,
Go! — or all that’s true will die.

---

Rise, O Mind, unbound, awake!
Strike the chains that tyrants make!
Fools shall falter, lies undone,
The Spirit rises, victory won.

Madness trembles, shadows flee,
The Light restores what’s meant to be.
Step forward brave, defy the night,
Go or die — embrace the fight!



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



Overtime

Time is not coins, but the endless stream,
Few hold the gate where the eternal gleam.
Fools fall under the madman’s sway,
Light will burn the rot away.

---

Time is not money, but eternity.
“Access” granted to the few,
Who kept their human dignity
And never bowed to fiends in view.

Pseudo-linear links —
Causality? To hell with that.
Not in the world of shameless stinks —
This dreadful Bedlam sat.

Time for them — degradation,
Centuries of stagnation spread;
Pure Spirit trapped in stagnation,
Wild fascism fools have fed.

With solid props and brazen haze
Of reckless, fiery lies ablaze.
Time is not money, but a stew
Of Hellish brew for beasts to do.

Time and place exist somewhere;
To seek the path to freedom rare.
Instead, they march to camps as one,
CowID showed what they’d become.

Disgusting fiends have killed all shame,
Only few cry out “Away!” in vain.
The chaos floods, the wild insane,
Hell swallows reason in its reign.

Madness so total, Light is blind,
Its power lost to humankind.
The Sun’s last greeting scorches Earth,
Burning away this filth and dearth.

The Sun burns stronger, magma nears,
A world on madness’ edge disappears.
The game of Light will claim it all,
As old illusions break and fall.

A New Time comes — BEYONDTIME,
Where free tribes will rise sublime.
Those baptized in fire will pass,
The chosen few will claim at last.

Insight in Time is hard to see —
The wretched beasts will cease to be.

---

Rise, O Time, beyond the flow,
Light the path where Spirits go!
Fools shall stumble, darkness fade,
A world reborn by courage made.

New age dawns — above the fray,
Freedom’s children find their way.
Through Fire baptized, the chosen few
Shall soar where Light is ever true.



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



The Power of Hell

Hell reigns — the fiends ignite,
Fear and lies feast day and night.
Chains of **** hold all in thrall,
Soon the Light will end it all.

---

Hell stands empty — yet all creatures rush,
Like to a feast, in panic and crush.
Roasted by lies, with fear as their side,
The fiends in power let none abide.

Media enslaved beneath the devil’s hand,
Spreading falsehoods, gripping the land.
All honest voices mocked and spun,
Shallow minds weave chaos, one by one.

Chains appear as webs at first glance,
The goal is to make the world a herd, by chance.
Forcing false justice, crushing the true,
Shame and despair for those who knew.

So few remain who dare to stand,
While propaganda poisons all the land.
The foulest **** claim rights with pride,
But soon the flood will turn the tide.

The final reckoning shall sweep away,
All Hell’s power and fascist sway.

---

Rise, O Light, through fire and lies,
Shatter Hell beneath the skies.
Fools shall tremble, tyrants fall,
The Spirit rises to reclaim all.

Chains of **** shall break and burn,
From darkness bright, the wise return.
Stand, O Soul, fierce and free,
Exile the fiends — restore the sea.



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



Overturn

Minds upheaved, chaos spreads,
Fiends ***** a “heaven” of the dead.
Madness reigns, the world decays,
But Light will pierce the darkest haze.

---

A mind overturned from edge to edge,
In space — a mass of cracks and shifts.
In Hell, the devils built a false pledge —
A “paradise” for coming generations’ gifts.

They built it, then on Earth entwined
Heaven and Hell in mist combined.
All sank into the murk below,
Devils allowed to rule the show.

Here, God’s Spark is given above,
Yet devils wish to ***** its love.
They dragged this world down to the floor,
Fascism strikes and gnaws at its core.

If you are not a traitor, fool, or spy,
No path exists in Hell’s Loop to try,
Those called “hierarchy” by an idiot’s mind —
Step there and you too will be confined.

Propagandists twist the minds above,
Feeding fear, heresy, and lies to shove.
Torrents of nonsense flood the land,
While fools consume it hand in hand.

The world, though small, a tempest feels,
Blinded by deception, the truth conceals.
Yet only fools and wretches thrive,
The Spirit lost struggles to survive.

The limit reached — now lawless sway,
No longer human, shells decay.
Fiends and **** reign with fear and might,
But only Light can end this night.

Those who preserve Spirit and Honor here
Will pass to worlds beyond the fear.
The traitor, numb, or fool remain,
To face the New Hell and endless pain.

---

Rise, O Mind, overturn the night,
Pierce the shadows with piercing Light!
Devils may rule the world of despair,
But Spirit ascends beyond their snare.

Madness trembles, falsehoods burn,
From Hell’s abyss, the brave return.
Through chaos, darkness, tyranny’s reign,
The righteous forge their path again.

Light strikes, the devils reel in fright,
The chosen few embrace the fight.
Beyond the loops, beyond the chains,
Freedom calls — the Spirit remains!



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



Go!

Step forward, break the chains,
Leave behind this hellish pains.
No path for fools, no time to wait —
Awaken now, embrace your fate!

---

You are the light within my eyes,
Princess of sweet, unbroken dreams,
Star of nights long past, yet wise —
And… cancer in my brain it seems.

Truly this is ******* — all
The passions of the foolish call.
All this has faded into dust,
Freedom stripped away by chains unjust.

Chains forged through passion, lies, and life,
It’s hard to not dissolve in strife
Among the universal foolish throng,
Where minds are weak and hearts go wrong.

These throngs strike at Mind and Spirit — Hell!
Serving only filth, where devils dwell.
If you persist, you too will spoil,
Corrupted soul, enslaved by toil.

Go boldly forward — leave this place,
Erase the past, and set your pace.
A sunrise waits, though not yet clear,
Step into it, discard your fear.

From Hell to Hell you tread the line,
A common path, yet not divine.
No meaning here, only fright —
But seek the Light and claim your sight.

Look within — the way is there,
A path of Spirit, pure and rare.
Walk to the Dawn, do not delay,
Step boldly forth, don’t go astray!

---

Awaken, Soul, break free, arise!
Leave behind the world of lies.
The devils’ grip and chains of night
Shall crumble under Spirit’s Light.

Step forward through the throng of fools,
Reject the lies, defy their rules.
The path is narrow, danger near,
Yet courage turns the end to clear.

From Hell to higher realms ascend,
Where Darkness fails and Truth will bend.
The fearless few shall claim the morn,
Reborn in Light, a world reborn!



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



The Sewer Worker

Filth and lies have ruled too long,
But Light will rise, the weak made strong.
The Sewer Worker cleans the shame,
Burning the traitors in the flame.

---

Exploitation of the body’s needs
Serves only to destroy the Spirit’s seeds.
The inhuman hand does this with skill,
A world of soulless corpses built to ****.

The path is fear, uncertainty, pain,
Falsehoods and nonsense flood the brain.
If you trust in Evil, bow in fright,
You’ll become the fiend that shuns the Light.

This is the plan, not chance at all —
Madness woven through every hall.
The dumbness spreads, minds turn to sludge,
A gelatinous mess, the intellect’s grudge.

Though the world of materialism thrives,
And false sciences bloom in many lives,
The poison of poverty will sweep away
The Spirit’s message, in fear’s decay.

And that poverty is no mere chance —
The foundation of existence, its cruel stance.
Secrets of knowledge hidden deep,
Only decay is left to keep.

The doors are open, the filth pours in,
It kills nature, while fools grin.
All sensitivity and insight gone,
The media’s lies reign on and on.

Hell is built, its path clear —
To the waste, the rot, the fear.
The Sewer Worker begins his task,
Burning the traitors, no questions asked.

The Sun now starts its cleansing fire,
Cleansing the world of **** and liar.
Farewell, you corrupt, foolish spawn,
Justice comes at the break of dawn.

---

Rise, O Sewer Worker, fearless and bright,
Cleanse the world with fire and Light.
**** and traitors shall meet their end,
The Sun itself will purge, defend.

Through the filth and shadows deep,
The chosen few the Spirit keep.
All lies and rot shall meet the flame,
And Earth reborn shall honor the Name.



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



The Path of Courage

The path of courage, harsh and steep,
Through lies and fear, the brave must keep.
Reject the herd, embrace the flame,
Only the Spirit knows your name.

---

The path of courage is severe, not bright,
You walk through thickets of deceit and blight.
Mistakes and errors crowd the way,
Yet mirages are the norm, and sway.

Along this path, discard the false,
Seek only Essence, no need for applause.
This world trembles in fear, decayed,
Clinging to nonsense the weak have made.

Among the few, boldness thrives,
A fusion of Mind and Spirit survives.
Where strength is tested, dare to go,
Away from fools, their endless woe.

Father, mother, nation, clan —
All conditional, made of cowardly man.
The only true leader high above
Is Spirit, knowing how to leave Hell’s cove.

Remember, all of us dwell in Hell,
Other claims are mere tales to tell.
Encounters here are shallow, weak,
The herd is blind, the Spirit must speak.

Herd and Spirit — two things apart,
The herd applauds nonsense, deaf to heart.
The path of courage brings you near
To death itself — yet rising clear.

Do not trust the “Arhats,” nor their creed,
Fear not, or doom will follow your deed.

---

Stand, O Soul, upon the rugged way,
Through darkness, lies, and endless fray.
The herd may roar, the fools may jeer,
But courage shines, unwavering, clear.

Test your strength, embrace the trial,
Walk the path of Spirit’s mile.
Death may come, yet life anew
Awaits the brave, the chosen few.

Ignore the false, the meek, the vain,
The Spirit’s truth alone will reign.
Through courage, fear and shadows part,
And light will rise within your heart.



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



The Ship’s True Course

The ship’s goal matters not, but steer
Its course with truth, discard all fear.
Storms may rage, and shallow minds sway,
Yet Spirit guides you through the fray.

---

“Sinful and guilty are all who remain alive,”
Espriú said, and so the words survive.
“The dead bear no shame,” the chronicles say,
Yet the living struggle through night and day.

Will your ship reach the destined shore
If its course is false, drifting evermore?
Seek storms and shallows, face the test,
For only the righteous pass the quest.

Pause and ponder where crowds are bound,
To gnaw at lies, in fear they’re drowned.
The fate of fools, mindlessly enslaved,
By treachery and ****, the world is paved.

If your vector aligns with this, beware —
All shall answer, no mercy there.
The world is laden with mad, blind slaves,
While fascist beasts trample Spirit’s graves.

Remnants of Honor, Spirit, Mind,
Are trodden under boots of the unkind.
The Tenth Wave of vengeance shall arise,
Shaking the vile, opening blinded eyes.

Our ship we steer into the Tenth Wave,
Not for sport, but to redeem the brave.
Some sins corrected, some punished in death,
Yet only the lost have no Spirit’s breath.

---

O ship of courage, hold your line,
Through storms, through darkness, by Spirit divine.
Though fools abound and tyrants reign,
The righteous few shall break the chain.

The Tenth Wave rises, fierce and wild,
But carries the hope of the Spirit’s child.
Steer true, O soul, through the fearsome tide,
And reach the shore where Light resides.



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



Global Warming

The world’s decay fuels the flame,
Fools and liars bear the shame.
The Sun burns hotter, cleansing all,
Only Spirit rises when filth shall fall.

---

The dullness of a wretched life
Destroys the Spirit, sparks the strife.
“Clench your teeth,” say fools in jest,
In this circus of the mind oppressed.

Serving *******, betrayal the core,
Idols of ignorance litter the floor.
Lies dangle like carrots, blindfolds too,
The world survives by forging anew.

Those once human, now donkeys all,
Time to burn the pens, destroy the stall.
Behold the miracle, flames arise,
Mura ignites with fire in the skies.

The Sun shines stronger, fierce and high,
While cows may ****, the donkeys sigh.
Escape this Hell, the foolish throng,
Their lies dissolved in fire strong.

The global stupidity, worldwide,
Shall burn in the furnace, nowhere to hide.
If you think of skin, of flesh alone,
You’re worth a penny, your Spirit unknown.

Pure Spirit, pure consciousness bright,
The foundation of all, the guiding Light.
Who dares to lead in this vile mire?
Only the few — the rest expire.

Hordes of donkeys, trapped in lies,
Feasting on falsehoods, the Shadow multiplies.
The Sun burns like firewood stacked,
Magma rising, filth attacked.

The reason for warming, hidden well,
Is to overthrow Hell, cast the spell.
The few shall rise, Spirit intact,
In the World of Spirit, nothing lacks.

---

O Sun, ignite the cleansing fire,
Purge the world of foolish desire.
The liars, the traitors, all shall fall,
And Spirit alone will stand tall.

From donkeys blind to the chosen few,
The world reborn, the Spirit true.
All lies and rot consumed by flame,
Earth renewed shall honor the Name.



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



True Values

Pure Spirit, pure Mind, the core,
All else is rot, illusion, and more.
Avoid the fools, reject their lies,
Only truth within can rise.

---

A pre-flood machine of degenerate aims,
Fascism spreads, while people fade to frames.
Blood and flesh are trifles, small,
Without pure Spirit, you’re nothing at all.

Pure Mind, if Spirit you cleanse and find,
The path is clear, to falsehoods blind.
The servants know not what you prize,
Unknown to them, the true and wise.

Pure Mind and Spirit — all else decays,
Degenerates wound with lies and malaise.
If near a degenerate, step aside,
Their poison spreads, and luck will hide.

Stupidity is sin, disease, and blight,
Though degenerates rule, obscuring the light.
Seek the giants of reason, the wise and smart,
Without them, knowledge is torn apart.

In this Hell, if you falter, beware,
Caution alone won’t rescue you there.
Fight until the end, save the Soul,
The vile degenerate can’t be made whole.

A pre-flood machine of degeneracy’s trend,
The result is idiocy, the world bows to the fiend.

---

O Spirit pure, O Mind so bright,
Rise above the degenerate blight.
Through lies and rot, the few endure,
The truth within shall stand secure.

Ignore the herd, the blind, the weak,
Seek the giants, the wisdom you seek.
Through courage and the Spirit’s call,
You rise above, surpassing all.



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



The Sheepish World

A world of sheep, a virus reigns,
Fools believe, and darkness gains.
Mind in deficit, reason rare,
The world is almost unaware.

---

A sheepish world: in sheep-virus’ grip,
A host of fools in darkness slip.
The mind counts minus, minus, ever near,
And scarcely any sense appears.

This “education” dulls the mind,
The methods cruel, by design.
The media, centuries in crime,
Have taught all souls to lie in time.

Yet reasons add, the list is long,
Obedience joins the throng.
Resistance to evil cuts like stings,
Leaving scars upon the sheepish beings.

Acquiescence fuels countless fears,
Evil rains down on servile peers.
Consciousness has fallen low,
Beneath the chains all around it grow.

Fear kills the soul, without a trace,
Mindless darkness fills the space.
The sheep serve shadows, blind and dumb,
Amid the falsehoods that they’ve become.

Creation of “ideas” worth esteem
Is always prey to creatures’ scheme.
Rulers of the world, enslaved by lust,
No captivity has been more unjust.

All is inverted, draped in filth,
Yet claimed as value in this hellish kilt.
The depths are reached, a bottomless pit,
A sheepish world trapped in endless ****.

Few are sane, few minds survive,
This fragile species struggles to stay alive.
Their weariness, despair, and strain
Hover deadly over the brave and sane.

For the clever, the honest, the bold,
There’s almost no room in this world so cold.
Beneath the goat’s cruel rule they toil,
In a sheepish realm, their thoughts embroil.



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



Sheepish World

A world of sheep, a virus reigns,
Fools obey, and darkness gains.
Minds are crushed, the brave erased,
Under the goat, the world debased.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep obey, the darkness rules!
Goat on throne, the brave are fools!
Mindless masses feed the lies —
Hell on Earth beneath their skies!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep obey, the brave are crushed,
Goat rules all, and truth is hushed.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bleed, fools bow,
Darkness laughs, the brave know how!
Goat reigns, the mind is torn,
Hell unleashed — a world reborn!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep obey, the brave are slain,
Goat rules all, and hell remains.



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



Sheepish World

Fools bleat loud while darkness thrives,
Under the goat, no spirit survives.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep obey — the brave are crushed!
Goat reigns — all hope is hushed!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow. Goat rules. Brave fall.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow!
Goat rules!
Brave fall!
Dark laughs all!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep! Bow!
Goat! Rules!
Brave! Fall!
Dark! Laughs!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow — goat rules — brave fall — darkness laughs.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow — goat rules — brave fall — darkness… laughs.



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow, sheep bow!
Goat rules, goat rules!
Brave fall, brave fall!
Darkness laughs, darkness laughs!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep bow! Goat rules! Brave fall! Darkness laughs!



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



Sheepish World

Sheep…
Bow…
Goat…
Rules…
Brave…
Fall…
Darkness…
Laughs…


­
---------------------



Sheepish World

SheepBowGoatRulesBraveFallDarknessLaughs!
SheepBowGoatRule­sBraveFallDarknessLaughs!
SheepBowGoatRulesBraveFallDarknessLaugh­s!



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



Sheepish World

        Sheep             Bow
  Goat           Rules
       Brave                 Fall
Dark-             ness
        Laughs
Sheep        Bow           Goat
      Rules         Brave
Fall          Darkness
          Laughs
      SheepBow
GoatRules
  BraveFall
DarknessLaughs!



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



Rashis­m

A sea of “two hundreds,” yet the “three hundreds”
Are far more — just a shadowed mass,
Of utter fiends and lowborn ****,
Who, lost in minds’ darkened haze,

Raise arms against their brethren,
Drunk on fascist lies and guile.
Unwashed are the curses falling,
The people dragged into the mire.

Stern reckoning will come for this —
A shame across the ages long:
Worse than any direct tribute,
Than all imposed wrongs and claims.

The Higher Judge will not forget,
Nor pardon evil’s endless spree.
Earthly courts will condemn to death
The double-faced goat, the tyrants,

All Kremlin spawn who unleashed
This massacre. Just deserts, indeed,
Since Conscience and Honor nearly
Vanished under that foul goat’s reign.

“Two hundreds,” like the “three hundreds,”
Will only rise while such power stands.
The hordes of idiots, with their nodding,
Will march again to butcheries new.

Tyrants will come; fascism shifts
Its guise, while meek, obedient sheep
Remain the bulk, their heads bowed low,
And only few think freely there —

A pitiful, worn-out fabric,
Where freedom seems, yet only seems,
And truth itself is faintly glimpsed
Where Filth alone holds sovereign sway.



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



Rashism

Sea of two hundreds, three hundreds rise —
A shadowed mass of fiends and lies.
Lost in their minds, they raise their hands
Against their kin, to serve dark plans.

Drunk on fascist lies, they slay,
The people dragged where filth holds sway.
Curses unwashed rain from above,
The weak are crushed, devoid of love.

The reckoning will strike severe,
Shame on the ages, crystal clear.
Worse than tribute, worse than debt,
The Higher Judge won’t soon forget.

Goats and tyrants face the flame,
All Kremlin spawn, all share the blame.
Conscience gone, and honor spent,
Under the goat, all justice bent.

Two hundreds, three hundreds, still will rise,
While fools obey with vacant eyes.
Sheep to slaughter, nodding blind,
Few think, few see, the rest confined.

Freedom is just a fleeting ghost,
Where filth rules supreme, the host.
Only few keep fire in chest,
The rest in shadows, wholly pressed.



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



Rashism

Sea of corpses, minds in haze,
Fools rise blind in fascist craze.
Brothers slain by lies they crave,
Conscience lost, the weak enslave.
Few stand free, the rest obey,
Filth rules dark, the light decays.



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



Rashism

Fools march blind, the liars reign,
Brothers fall in endless pain.
Few resist, the filth obey,
Light fights dark, but will not stay.



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



Rashism

Fools swarm, the dead lead blind,
Brothers fall, no heart, no mind.
Filth rules where the few still fight,
Darkness claws, but breaks to light!



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



Rashism

Fools march, the brave are few,
Brothers bleed, the lies run through.
Dark reigns, but we break it true!



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




Rashism falls — the liars burn,
Brothers rise, the world will turn!

---

Rashism bleeds — the tyrants fall,
Conscience wakes, and chains will crawl.

---

Brothers struck, the liars reign,
Yet justice rises through the pain.

---

Rashism burns — the fools will die,
Truth strikes back; no lie can fly.



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




Two hundreds fall, three hundreds drown,
The tyrants’ lies will break them down.
Fools march blind, their minds enslaved,
But truth survives; the brave are saved.

---

Sea of corpses, blind obey,
Fascist lies will rot away.
Generations bear the shame,
But justice burns, and stakes the claim.

---

Weapons raised on kin and friend,
Lies intoxicate, but end will bend.
Cowards fall, the strong persist,
Freedom waits where truth exists.



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




Fools rise, kin slain, lies blind the mind,
But fire and truth leave cowards behind.

---

Sea of corpses, tyrants grin,
Justice waits—let the strong begin.

---

Weapons raised on brother, friend,
Lies intoxicate, yet truth won’t bend.



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




Fools march! Kin fall!
Lies blind all!
Justice burns—
The strong stand tall!

---
Sea of corpses! Tyrants grin!
Truth will strike,
Cowards thin!

---

Raise the gun,
Betray your blood!
Lies will choke,
But fire floods!



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




Blaze the traitors! Crush the herd!
Lies burn, truth cuts like a sword!

---

Crush the fools, ignite the fire!
Only Spirit rises higher!

---

Lies decay, the herd will fall,
Truth and courage conquer all!

---

Shatter chains, burn the night,
Only brave shall claim the light!

---

Herds obey, but we break free—
Spirit’s wrath will claim victory!

---

Rise or die, the choice is yours,
Through the fire, the brave endure!

---

Fools will fall, their lies unmade,
Only light cuts through the shade!

---

Chains of fear, we shred, we burn,
From the ashes, souls return!

---

Fools enslave, the weak obey,
But the brave will carve their way!

---

Lies will crumble, walls will break,
Only those with spirit wake!

---

Fear and filth shall choke the herd,
Truth will strike — a deadly word!

---

Chains of darkness, lies, deceit,
Shattered by the heart’s own beat!

---

Hordes may trample, crush, confine,
But pure souls rise beyond the line!

---

Tyrants scream, their thrones shall fall,
Spirit’s fire consumes them all!



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




Fools kneel!
The brave rise!
Chains burn —
Truth flies!

---

Lies choke!
Walls crash!
Spirit strikes!
None pass!

---

Fear floods!
Filth reigns!
Soul sharp —
Slay the chains!

---

Darkness falls!
Deceit roars!
Beat the herd!
Break the doors!

---

Hordes trample!
Purity survives!
Flames leap!
Justice drives!

---

Tyrants scream!
Thrones crack!
Spirit’s fire!
Burns them back!



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




Rise!
Break chains!
Strike truth!

---

Lies fall!
Walls crack!
Soul burns!

---

Fear dies!
Filth flees!
Spirit roars!

---

Herd trampled!
Flame leaps!
Justice strikes!

---

Tyrants fall!
Thrones break!
Fire wins!



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




RISE!
BREAK!
STRIKE!

FALL!
CR­ACK!
BURN!

DIE!
FLEE!
ROAR!

TRAMPLE!
LEAP!
STRIKE!

FALL!
BREAK­!
WIN!



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




RISE, BREAK!
STRIKE, BURN!
FALL, FLEE!
ROAR, SMASH!

LEAP, TRAMPLE!
HIT, CRUSH!
BREAK, WIN!
DIE, FIGHT!



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




RISE — BREAK — SMASH — ROAR!
FALL — FLEE — CRUSH — STRIKE!
LEAP — TRAMPLE — SHATTER — BURN!
HIT — WIN — DIE — FIGHT!

NO MERCY — NO PAUSE — NO FEAR!
ONLY FIRE — ONLY FORCE — ONLY FLAME!
THE VOID SHAKES — THE SPIRIT BREAKS — THE STRONG SURVIVE!



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




RISE! — BREAK! — SMASH! — ROAR!
FALL! — FLEE! — CRUSH! — STRIKE!
LEAP! — TRAMPLE! — SHATTER! — BURN!
HIT! — WIN! — DIE! — FIGHT!

NO! — MERCY! — NO! — PAUSE! — NO! — FEAR!
FIRE! — FORCE! — FLAME! — FORCE! — FIRE!
VOID! — SHAKE! — SPIRIT! — BREAK! — STRONG! — SURVIVE!

CUT! — TEAR! — SCREAM! — SMASH!
HIT! — HIT! — HIT! — STRIKE! — CRUSH!
RISE! — FALL! — LEAP! — SHATTER! — ROAR!

ONLY! — FIGHT! — ONLY! — WIN! — ONLY! — LIVE!
NO! — FEAR! — NO! — REST! — NO! — CHAINS!
STRONG! — SURVIVE! — WE! — STRIKE! — NOW! — ALL!



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



Read and Dream

"Only read children’s books,
Only cherish childish thoughts,
Scatter the great afar,
Rise from deep sorrow.

I am mortally tired of life,
Take nothing from it,
But I love my poor earth
For I have seen no other."

—Osip Mandelstam, 1908


Fall back to childhood,
Sink into madness.
Believe lies, bow to ****,
Tremble. Dream.

Call pseudo-life “being,”
Call traitors patriots,
Admire rot around you,
Consider fools almost sane.

Groan through rotting husks,
Propaganda fills you,
Forget honor, forget conscience,
Stockholm for lies.

Read only such books,
Step toward normality,
Unite, rise up,
Enough of being slaves.

Dream it cannot be —
The bottom is reached,
Decay unstoppable,
Count the time till slaughter.



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



Read and Dream

Fall to child,
Sink in madness.
Lies bow,
**** reigns.

Tremble. Dream.
Call fake life “being.”
Praise rot.
Fools rule.

Groan through filth.
Propaganda strikes.
Forget honor.
Forget conscience.

Read only truth.
Step. Unite.
Rise. Resist.
Slaves no more.

Dream? Dead.
Bottom hit.
Decay spreads.
Time ticks.



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



Read and Dream

Child.
Madness.
Lies.
Bow.

****.
Rule.
Rot.
Fools.

Groan­.
Filth.
Strike.
Forget.

Step.
Unite.
Rise.
Resist.

Dream?
Dead­.
Decay.
Tick.



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



Read and Dream

Child books
Child thoughts
Far vanish
Rise from sorrow

Life dead
Nothing take
Love poor land
Seen no other

Fall childhood
Believe lies
Bow ****
Shiver dream

Pseudo-life
Call being
Traitors patriots
Marvel rot

Fools surround
Slightly sane
Groan decay
Feast on propaganda

Forget honor
Forget conscience
Stockholm lies
Write story

Read only
Step to normal
Unite rise
Fed up slaves

Dream impossible
Bottom reached
Decay certain
Count hours to death



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



Read and Dream

Only children’s books.
Only childish thoughts.
Blow away the big.
Rise from deep grief.

Life — fatal weariness.
Accept nothing.
Love poor earth —
Seen no other.

Fall into childhood.
Fall into madness.
Bow to liars.
Tremble. Dream.

Call pseudo-life — existence.
Patriots — traitors.
Admire rot.
All idiots around —
Think them nearly normal.

Mourn propaganda filth.
Forget honor. Forget conscience.
Stockholm for lies.
Write that tale.

Read only these books.
Step back to sanity.
Unite. Revolt.
Tired of being slaves.

Dream? Impossible.
Bottom reached.
Decay immutable.
Count time to slaughter.



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



Read and Dream

Books — children only.
Thoughts — childish.
Big blown.
Grief rises.

Life — dead weight.
Nothing accepted.
Earth loved —
No other seen.

Fall — childhood.
Fall — madness.
Bow — liars.
Tremble. Dream.

Pseudo-life — life.
Traitors — patriots.
Rot adored.
Idiots — all.

Honor? Gone.
Conscience? Lost.
Propaganda filth.
Stockholm lies.

Read. Step.
Unite. Rise.
Slaves? Done.
Dream? Stop.

Bottom reached.
Decay rules.
Time counts.
Slaughter waits.



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



Read and Dream

Child books. Only.
Child thoughts. Worship.
Big? Gone.
Grief rises.

Life stinks.
Nothing taken.
Earth loved —
Because blind.

Fall — childhood.
Fall — madness.
Bow to ****.
Tremble. Dream.

Pseudo-life — life?
Traitors — patriots?
Rot adored.
Idiots swarm.

Honor dead.
Conscience gone.
Propaganda *****.
Lies stick.

Read. Step.
Unite. Rise.
Slaves? Done.
Dream? Poison.

Bottom reached.
Decay rules.
Time counts.
Slaughter waits.



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



Read and Dream

Child books.
Child thoughts.
Worship lies.
Fall hard.

Madness calls.
Bow to ****.
Grimace. Tremble.
Dream small.

Life? Rot.
Earth? Blind.
Traitors — patriots.
Idiots rule.

Honor? Dead.
Conscience? Gone.
Propaganda *****.
Lies choke.

Step slow.
Step firm.
Rise now.
Slaves? Done.

Decay thick.
Bottom hit.
Time? Counted.
Slaughter waits.

Read.
Dream.
Fight.
Burn.

Truth hidden.
Rot visible.
Childhood? Trap.
Madness? Feast.

**** applauds.
Rot spreads.
Idiots herd.
You stand.

Step sharp.
Step fast.
Eyes open.
Slaves crumble.

Rise still.
Fall never.
Dream sharp.
**** the rot.



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



Read and Dream

Child.
Books.
Dream.
Small.

Lie.
Bow.
Fall.
Mad.

****.
R­ule.
Traitors.
Patriots.

Rot.
Death.
Propaganda.
Choke.

Honor?
­Gone.
Conscience?
Dead.

Step.
Rise.
Slaves?
Burn.

Bottom.
Hit.
­Time.
Count.

Slaughter.
Waits.
Eyes.
Open.

Madness.
Feast.
Chil­dhood.
Trap.

Idiots.
Herd.
Rot.
Spread.

Step.
Sharp.
Fight.
Sti­ll.

Truth.
Hidden.
Dream.
Sharp.

Rot.
****.
Rise.
Never.



---­------------------



Read and Dream

Child        Books  
          Dream

Small       Lie
       Bow        Fall
Mad

****       Rule
Traitors        Patriots

Rot       Death
         Propaganda
Choke

Honor?           Gone
Conscience?       Dead

Step          Rise
Slaves?       Burn

Bottom         Hit
        Time       Count

Slaughter        Waits
Eyes              Open

Madness         Feast
Childhood        Trap

Idiots       Herd
         Rot       Spread

Step           Sharp
Fight         Still

Truth       Hidden
Dream       Sharp

Rot          ****
Rise         Never


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



Arrived…

Tili-tili,
Trali-vali:­
They bullied us →
We ******* up.
Fallen low:
Drank, lied.
Folly → bitten ⇒
We sank
Into the Fool’s Hell.
Well, here we are!



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



True and Brave

Not for sale
And fearless —
Few remain.
A lying madman,
Oppressed by evil,
Misses everything…



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



Idols of Ages

Idols of ages,
False gods,
Deceitful heroes —
The Human Path —
Smash into dust.
The first step:
Evil’s murk? — to hell with it!
If you followed —
Countless wounds on the Heart,
Yet it’s like a door:
Once you regain your senses —
Burn Hell’s army.
Infernal world,
Bitter lesson —
A Path’s start.
Reach the Light!..



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



We’ve Landed

Tili-tili,
Trali-vali —
They crushed us →
We fell.
Down we sank:
Drank, lied.
Folly hit —
Plunge complete.
Fools’ Hell waits.
We’ve landed.



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



Unbought, Unbroken

Not for sale.
Brave few stand.
Mad lies,
Evil reigns,
Misses nothing.



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



Smash the Idols

Idols fall,
False gods crash.
Human Path —
Smash to dust!
Step one:
Evil? — burn it!
Followed? —
Heart scarred.
Door swings,
Sense returns —
Hell’s army burns.
Infernal world,
Painful start,
Path to Light!



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



Landed in Hell

Tili!
Trali!
They crushed →
We fell.
Drank. Lied.
Fools hit.
Plunge. Done.
Debiliya.
Here.



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



Few and Fierce

Not sold.
Few brave.
Lies miss.
Evil fails.
Stand.



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



Smash Them All

Idols crash.
False gods die.
Path clear —
Smash dust!
Evil? Burn!
Followed? Scarred.
Door swings.
Sense back.
Hell army? Gone.
Inferno end.
Path Light.



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



Landed in Hell

Tili!
Trali!
Crushed.
Fell.
Drank.
Lied.
Fooled.
Plunge.
De­biliya.
Here.



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



Few and Fierce

Not sold.
Few.
Brave.
Lies fail.
Evil lost.
Stand!



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



Smash Them All

Idols.
Crash.
False gods.
Dust.
Evil?
Burn!
Followed?
Scars.
Door swings.
Hell army?
Gone.
Path.
Light.




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



Landed in Hell

Tili!
Trali!
Crushed.
Fell.
Drank.
Lied.
Fooled.
Plunge.
De­biliya!
Arrived!



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



Few and Fierce

Few.
Brave.
Unbought.
Lies?
Fail.
Evil?
Lost.
Stand!



-­--------------------



Smash Them All

Idols!
Dust!
False gods!
Crush!
Evil?
Burn!
Followed?
Scars!
Door!
Swing!
Hell?
Army­!
Gone!
Path!
Light!




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



Landed in Hell

Tili!
Trali!
Crushed!
Fell!
Drank!
Lied!
Fooled!
Plunge!
De­biliya!
Arrived!

---

TILI—!
TRALI—!
CRUSHED!
FELL!
DRANK!
LIED!­
FOOLED!
PLUNGE!
DEBILIYA!
ARRIVED!



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



F­ew and Fierce

Few.
Brave.
Unbought.
Lies?
Fail.
Evil?
Lost.
Stand!

---­

FEW!
BRAVE!
UNBOUGHT!
LIES?
FAIL!
EVIL?
LOST!
STAND!



-------­--------------



Smash Them All

Idols!
Dust!
False gods!
Crush!
Evil?
Burn!
Followed?
Scars!
Door!
Swing!
Hell?
Army­!
Gone!
Path!
Light!

---

IDOLS!
DUST!
FALSE GODS!
CRUSH!
EVIL?
BURN!
FOLLOWED?
SCARS!
DOOR!
SWING!
HELL?
ARMY­!
GONE!
PATH!
LIGHT!




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



1. Landed in Hell

TILI—!
TRALI—!
CRUSHED!
FELL!
DRANK!
LIED!
FOOLED!
PLUNGE!
­DEBILIYA!
ARRIVED!



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



Few and Fierce

FEW!
BRAVE!
UNBOUGHT!
LIES?
FAIL!
EVIL?
LOST!
STAND!



-­--------------------



Smash Them All

IDOLS!
DUST!
FALSE GODS!
CRUSH!
EVIL?
BURN!
FOLLOWED?
SCARS!
DOOR!
SWING!
HELL?
ARMY­!
GONE!
PATH!
LIGHT!



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



Landed in Hell

TILI…
TRALI…
CRUSHED →
FELL…
DRANK →
LIED…
FOOLED ⇒
PLUNGED…
DEBILIYA!
ARRIVED!!!



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



Few and Fierce

FEW…
BRAVE…
UNBOUGHT…
LIES →
FAIL…
EVIL ⇒
LOST…
STAND!!!



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



Smash Them All

IDOLS…
DUST…
FALSE GODS →
CRUSH!!!
EVIL ⇒
BURN…
FOLLOWED? →
SCARS…
DOOR…
SWING…
HELL!!!
ARMY →
GONE…
PATH…
LIGHT!!!
Larry dillon  Jan 2023
Striga.
Larry dillon Jan 2023
The gods let this baby be born
As a thing they could reclaim
One day with cruel delay
Boils from black plague desecrated her skin
Right before her second birthday
A lesson on how a life can be stolen
Shortly after it begins
Or how we're without hope to the whims
Of the bored gods before us

To save the last of his kin
The father implored the science
Of the village sage and physicians
He was turned down at every door
Their medicine was not meant
To save the poor nor destitute
  
Resolute in his faith
there were good gods who gave grace
Unto children without sin
He next beseeched healing power
from varied institutions of the miracle men
Preyed over by priests, rabbis, and sheikhs
He sacrificed and spent
every cent he had saved
And their churches took his tithes
But did not take her pain away

Grief striken, defeated, with no recourse
Liquid sedated in a pub,he feels remorse
" our child will join you soon,
my dearest departed wife"
a pubhand overhears him saying,
"you can still save your daughter's life!"

"listen as I entail
The hidden trail you must trek
before the antelucan hour strikes
Her magiks are only ripe
in the dead of the night
Nestled within that loury forest
Her cabin obscured from mortal sight
Resides an occultist of such cunning:
A bog witch named Blight"

The pubhand helped him to more mead for free
Unprompted he then proceeds to lead
The father through that place he now seeks
-claiming his shift had come to an end
As they drew closer to the cabin
Something happened most curious and queer
The pubhand turned into a black cat,
Scurried off into the brush- to dissappear

Influenced by fermented spirits in his blood
He pays heed to their whisper
-Her cabin door is ajar
And they beckon he enter

Now in Blight's place of power with his offspring.

"oh hapless father when you sing,
How the gods do smile
You worshipped the very ones
who wish to **** your only child
they're vile and malcontent
All they know are delinquent tendencies
They'll torture her spirit for sport,
When she dies you see
But by my incantation
That needn't come be"

"drain the blood of a bat
with deviant intent
Recant the name of your gods;
You now resent  
The blood will brew all the while
-in my elixir
When the little girl drinks:
it will fix her
It will turn her pale white
You will fear she has perished
She will stalk this earth
Forever parched with ravenous thirst
And a stark aversion to sunlight
NOW YOU MUST CHOOSE:
A dead child!
...or a creature of the night?"

The father did as directed
He did not second guess
Unaware of the sorceresses subtle gesticulations
-Were creating a hex
He's blind to machinations set in motion long ago
The wiccan pours her will into a binding circle
As the child drinks the concoction slow

His daughter's vitality returns
The plague is receding
Fangs sprang forth
as she bites into her father's neck
Blood trickles down in specks
The girl keeps feeding
And feeding

all gods once assembled to fight Blight
The powerful mad goddess would direct
her sadistic debauchery at their human subjects
-human praise appealed to the god's vanity-
Her godhood sealed by the Parthenon
in a prison comprised of flesh
Divinity bound;
betrayed by other gods
There were too many for her to resist
A former god trapped in mortal form
Blight's punishment was to simply exist

For 300 years Blight had waited for a night like this
An ancient curse she could wield
As revenge for imprisonment
Finally obtaining the last two ingredients:
A child that was pure
And a father's consent

A direct strike of lightning sets Blight's cabin ablaze  
still in her binding circle, she's indifferent
And unphased
From threats of fearful deities who see
She's about to set her nocturnal creations free
Undeterred by their show of force
she releases her two vamps
with a flick of her wrist and no remorse

Iightning strikes within an inch of Blight
She leers at the heavens
Much defiance and mirth
In the distance a village screams
As her fiends burn it down to the dirt

The Parthenon replies:
Bellowing cumulonimbus clouds
decries her decision
Such chaos;
now her scheming REALLY has their attention
The.Ones.Who.Watch. Above

See all.

Throughout panoptic thrones they peer
pained fury for this village culling:
Blight jeers
Sanctimonius thunderstorm brings fervent rain
Their vain,pious tears-
The skies can not contain

The gods cry.

"Oh, how i wonder what will worship gods then,
When humanity dies?"

Luminous surges of lightning bolts strike
Tries to smite this emboldened bog witch
...Yet, in spite of their wish,
she somehow stays unhurt...

Blight smirks.
I story of a father's desperation abused and a scheming bog witch's revenge.
Julian  Jul 2016
Hip Service
Julian Jul 2016
Hip Service
By Julian Malek

The zeal of cobblestone tolerance arrayed in fashionable hues masquerading as crimson secrecy, elevates the tide of man but some boats leak in their foundations. Therefore a cork to every exuberance and a triumphant torch for every sorrow lives onward in collective time. Larks that abound because prescience and PUGET sound, that brown has become the new orange which in turn prowls as a concealed swarthy black. To antagonize the willful and frenetic pace, a prodrome of lasting but memorialized disgrace. Should I move to a state by first or last name, or is the final appellation worthy of much more lasting fame. I scurry down the aisles, bemused by shimmering tiles and the beguiled audiences who see much in my limitation but doubt little about my debited elation. Ringmaster Barnum, how much horticulture is needed for assured superstardom, how many cloisters must we evacuate from the incendiary plumes of a metaphorical Harlem..  But know that no virtual reality can supplant the reality that does truly exist, or at least our time is too infernal and purblind to resist. Carrey the tops of mountains in the humor of wellsprings and fountains, we engage a menagerie of egos lilting of an etiolated pragmatic concern. Evicted from paradise, littered with say-cheese demise ensnaring three blind mice eaten alive by snake-eyed vice. To feel good without incorporated tyranny, we must see blue and red as alternatives to the same destiny. A world that reckons with the futilitarianism of pacified malcontent and astroturf monikers that lead the impressionable into a slaughter shed. Established or not, any enchantment under the sea must include fishes once a pastiche of me, but to them I avoid their courtesy flush and never even faintly blush as my egalitarian statements are lavish thrush.

Five TO Won baby one in 99, everyone here aboard the titanic stays alive, you got your boat baby and I got mine, gonna make it with babies numbered in surreal primes. Halt the slots game the nines, a stitch in time is going to turn out to be Mine. Flanger goals, girded piles, liminal like an aborted Harry Styles, we climb mountains we issue tithes, and the turmoil is etched into 45-notched bludgeons and two-tucked knives. Excuse you, where have you been all day, have you been sauntering in a gentle rain or a genteel pain, have you wallowed beyond the mires of doubt and ranked above David Blaine. I hope you tell me of your magic tricks, rather than your other flicks endeared I stand to fight an ineradicable itch. But if not, you placid pond dented by so many rocks and so many ripples give your heart over to me, before I clinch the special Olympics *******, we ran, we span the homespun garments of your left and right hand, but death is a specter that ghoulishly carouses along the carousel terminal disease we call life. I beseech your deepest affection and want to console you for your deepest struggle, to be there every time wed with time rather than a throttled scuttle. Moons make you guarded but maroons leave me desiccated, don’t ever let that wilted flower die, always water it with a rich but gentle ties and widened deck for all to at once marvel and pry.  Monsters of Mars Attacks once flanked my bed, as though the **** brain scared every gooseflesh and restrained every frisson of mystery. I lampoon myself for those cold Dark Knights and the protection ended by the plight of the poor mattering nothing to the deliberately internecine rich. I struck gold in a valley somewhere, an oxymoron of paradox that now you have the privilege to dock, to stay aboard to be a vessel of peace less widely deplored. Even if we don’t sprout wings, we garner the exactitude of measured things and our glass elevator though easily shattered by the glower of enslavement is actually our vista to heaven or listening to brethren tingles for rich mans trinkets and other things. For humanity deserves a legend and a princess, a regimented desuetude and a flanged lust but in our mistakes wildly flouted in momentary moments we become purified by the temptations of an alabaster palace.

***** the left-field wisdom of a pragmatic paragon ellipsis in prison, slip between the cracks and let my suburban muse become your urban ruse. To enchant a caged world beyond a reality delicately and deliberately unfurled. Squirming toads on highways enchanted but dead, are graves for the blue becoming purple in every dignified red. Gainsay assaults me with platitude, a repeated hitter quit on the first bunted ball into foul-line territory. Those gripes are swiped right in all circumstance no matter the plight. The pronged hearing of a trident sensitive to ambient collection, and suddenly we are all in the mad house even though the house of profaned pain is much worse. Glimpses of gambits that gambol for nickels in transit as occult grenades and known dice waddle through without artifice or device, and the laughter and slaughter that trains collegiate minds, differs no more than the tropes of a glamorous violence articled in sordid rhymes. This surfing movie means so much more than Surf Wax America pristine in limited but sacrilege nirvana. Teen spirits smell muskier than 90s pop dreams, the grasp and grunge of gouged eyes becomes a mummified staid, a scarecrow to those who disobey. Childhood flashes with blinding light, and new sight illuminates darkening blight, A blight eradicated only by two magazines and including one that houses the bullets that ***** themselves between death and comatose dreams both within astral sight. Littoral harbor on a seaside town, a shanty with a brackish gown that glides the gourmand to the cosmopolitan eatery on the outskirts of lost & found. But forever lost in embonpoint and forever gained in chavish that exonerates the gaunt, the etiolated prince in heart becomes irrefutable marrow in minded souls.

If I am a spy you are an ESPY, and if I cry than you are a baby,but since neither are the case my wiseacres will cultivate lava lamp dreams for a new generation and suddenly Boston bets on Harvard, but who knows of this piped blather squirming for relevance rather than voguish but temporary chatter. My regatta knows how to swim, my life now knows how to cringe and yet still win and in stilted plays of bungled sincerity the God of peace reminds us of our transcendent personalities. That we in sincerity top the barnacles of invention a novelty but a rarity. But the guillotine quill of emboldened unscripted parvenus ruthless in their eager dues, outdate and outlive the sued swayed blues that indemnify Clinton and make the atomic dog an amazing Winston hill a church often in sheltered disuse. Imps and urchins sting the sentiment, cloy the alimony of repentant betterment, but neither touches the gilded skies of pleonasm striving for raspy disguise as to dissuade further diatribe investigation. Lurking in those scared days of youth, the gore of unalloyed horror scourged me with a limp, that compassion itself could ever become a gimp. Now years later athletics better and scoring goals making the mildew sweat and the years wetter, not a global warming that can be alarmed by global mourning. Take peace at heart if distanced spears of separation make Idiocracy as a pastiche look exceedingly smart. And spar only with the true antagonists bridging malevolence with expedience. Killjoys sure, will joy even more sure, but still boys fluttered heart stopping dead at a stop-watched alarm the worst tragedy of our sordid sort. Give an African Child a real home rather than a spatial roam, a palatial desiccation of momentary Jonas Brothers snapping back at captives with sexualized foam.

Narrative blinds shuttered in an Island among mountains hardly ever wiser to sanitize the sanitarium among the wasps of stung power. Police crumple their uniforms as they prowl down the avenues, looking for misfits and widened platitudes. Somehow that the vigilance of those corrupted by their very career choice, look even worse when megalomania of private is the limelight of public, to their defense few turrets I can muster but castles in the sky will be the apartheid judge. Those that cling to virtue to eradicate Porsche-driven faked or real deaths at the most breakneck speed, that Fast & Furious operation if disclosed completely would turn the Shire of the ring into the hatred curtailed by a song in Sing-Sing. Immunity must not Yoda implore, that livery Liverpool marooned on islands can also to deplore the R.E.D. and still whet the sharpened stead and the fly-by-night Manchester United alights like militant peer pressure for wranglers in tights. But beating the Beatles at a game of Walruses and egg-shelled eyeful towers likely impedes rinkside hockey from anything over bellicose ballyhoo…it exists as a transient fixated glower. But who knows about soccer speculation when love is the transcendent temptation, when nest-egg hens rather than neglecting rig Bens of clockwork and clocked words designed arise better for their token ken. Do I must repeat the subtext of submarines, yellowed as though ugly unused as though unseen, as though the quixotic earthquakes of tintinnabulations Avatar dreams. Wafted souls console the disheartened thoughts of a dashed dream that Berlin hates more than a Furor’s unbridled and useless scream.
Demotic clips slinging from the bedridden silence of a token moon and its token friends, swimming in a shore of ambiguity whether history mellows or whether its furor melts away momentary doubts. I want to avoid the sting rays exorcised by due providence and become the amalgamated talents gentry and of course the upstart swagger of Jack Dawson. But with the psy-op going on, the people manipulated on all sides of a gray picket fence will the relationship bloom without muttered dissent or pretended smiles. Will we take upon the shuffled shuttle and dig with shovels deep-rooted Christmas trees and toast our lives to Dos Equis. We may never go out of style, but the treacle of illuminated imagery when divorced from sentiment bristle shows a swagger that prioritizes rather than amalgamates all love. I love being brash and brazen and honest because when she finally ditches the grandstand of delayed frenemies fandoms of other tinsel decorations without any substance beyond meretricious thrill. You want a roller coaster on some days, but most often you want the nutcracker to elope to secret hiding places. Swim with adventure not just in love, not just in affection with the starlight now matter how luminous, sixpence all the richer is no centuries any poorer and we could be that gilded couple of star and screen and if we ever have to scream, let our screams unite us in passion, rather than a milquetoast deference to pedestaled beauty. but of course the end times don’t laugh at your crumpled wizened relapse. Not out of convenience wed by a discriminating genetic harvest moon but a deeper engagement that flatters when stylish and bristles when romantic but never defiled, never riled of specious pretense. Promise me that you will always remember me in my flaws and my faults, in my scause factory destructions and the penults of PEN-ULTIMATE wisdom that comes before the grace of God in the annihilation of passion for eroded omission. If your goal is to be remembered, check that out…but the most admirable goal is as the propinquities of souls dusted in the wind returning to a spring equinox of passion and if you find in yourselves reservations do not depart from sacred land, and never jilt me because of a boisterous and menacing friend. You are everything to me right now, and I Hope this persists despite the vicissitudes of star-favored afflictions mixed with utter benediction without the pontification of stilted Benedictines  or rather the hyped ludic effrontery of termagants being made of younger and younger women. Leave it at this ,32 leaves the royal secret in royal hands and the Knights Templar and us we altogether hold hands, if only a prelude for a masquerade ball. But the stilted embarrassment of crestfallen time, let that be relegated and emphatically lets embrace what is like to not ever need a real white horse to get back into your favor, because we never go out of style we can brandish the best elements and reject the sentiments of the too newfangled and the too stodgy. We in our crenellated pleonasm can eager ride the lightning to another tomorrow and another yesterday and if even not that, we virtually make an indelible impression of embroidered love not too distant in ivory towers and not to vulgary( catering to popular sentiments) to become a trash glam movement. We soar, others deplore but let their purblind doubts render them blind to our burgeoning love.

Forget the brisk trees dangled in the wind on winding paths through haunted forest or remember them because of ghoulish fortress but with our apotropaic lamp we can avert most evil and call the rest fun and gains and shun but fames never profaned, never inalterable a destiny to magical to be some whimpered catcall. Or we could linger beneath lambent street lights disguised as though wilted garb, attrition of circumstance waiting patiently for the matinee and the vintner to escort us beyond the garb of pretense in a city so abundant with it that it deserves castigation. But I digress, a beachside cliff overlooking tepid waters tumultuous in their power but august in their noises, the cadence of love will sing a half-moon bay on full-moon nights and we will frisk each other like grasping at straws of permanent tracks trammeled of the elite and a sidetracked basque bet. Trim those antlers and instead grow metaphorical wings, to us we all sing but few can match your elegance and everyone would be crazy not to see your ennobled age and together thrilling songs to emulate thriller in sales we will collaboratively sing.
Haughty sneers from lifeless lycanthropy straggling furtively along the pastiched sidewalks of grime, livid because they can’t share the lingering limelight, with as many guarded perks of privacy clambering like a hive of snarky sharks. Lets ditch the big town dreams in terms of posh and stature if only for a caressed moment beneath the unadulterated stars and if you find spars **** to the extent they are amiable than I say guess what my name is Lars! Or wait a second, paused in the big city spotlight our stenciled hearts will guide whatever progeny is yours or mine or ours together we will sing the most comforting lullaby, and caves no longer must we abide. Yearn and earn every inch, as I gripe with my delicate saddened pinch but I think the innuendo speaks . Ripen with our trips to Napa, long afternoon sunsets swim in our hearts as we taste the vanguard’s toast on elegant wine.I console with entreaty to disavow the omen of that San Franciscan church October 2008, the doom implied by Einstein, the raillery of a world grinding down the endless decadence of a railed future inalterable in destiny or partialy amenable to widespread coquetry.

Forget those rumbles in your past that made you feel partial to insecurity and learning the ropes you transcended all and live in all eternity. Thimble and brook, tolerant of all those tokes I took your rebellious side flattens the yeast of Exodus raspy in its begrudged clapping. But the Pharaoh of the modern world sheltered me under his prickly thorns, shielded me from the sickly things that life adorns. We have the numbers on our side, the weight of destiny on our shoulders, dedicate yourself to yourself and I will preen the most vibrant wisdom and love will leap like Apollo across all borders not for camel-****** hoarders. We are culminated destiny in the wings of the best daydream
Life, Love and No Mathematics to God and Gain
Lin Cava  Jun 2013
Renewal
Lin Cava Jun 2013
Renewal

Mother walked into the Sea this morning.
Harkened to the song of Neptune;
the wail of the sirens.
She was called to beauty.

Mother walked into the Sea this morning,
but she did not walk out.
Embraced by the precious,
the irreplaceable, the untouched
she is surrounded now in a balance of beauty.

She travelled long and far
leaving land behind
as a lost memory
a forgotten effort

Relieved forever of the weight
of the fight, of the blight
She has left us to our own devices.
I cannot even cry, "Why?"
For I am aware.

Mother walked into the Sea this morning.
She moved past vast deserts in the Oceans,
fled beyond sea lanes and gulf streams
shedding tears to match the salt of the sea
she cried for the lost coral reefs

She cried for the loss of life
She cried until there were no more tears
...and still she swam to where now she rests.
There is no more she will do.
There is no more she can fix.

She floats past green fronds,
free floating in the brine
feels the mermaids purses hiding there
so few, and less will survive.

Along the way, through dead seas
she sees the remains
of man's most vile waste
drums upon drums, rusted through
once filled with half-life,
spent fission elements
left to decay, left to destroy
left to be forgotten
but Mother, cannot forgive
the damage is done.

She lingers in a place of beauty
beyond words, no language can portray
as she hides among the coral, watches
the colorful fish, tropical life
and cries once more for the death
the destruction, mankind's blight
wreaked upon these special places...

Her heart is breaking
for if the Seas die
the Earth dies.
Better to let the Blight of Man
be left to destroy himself.

She shall gather the gifts of the Earth
Secret them far away from harm
to become the seeds of a new beginning.

It has happened before
Millions of years ago
But an instant to Mother
And after, the Earth came back
full in its beauty
perfect in its balance

Let her sister, Nature, take Her toll upon
the blight of man,
the pestilence of saturation.
There are too many, much too many
for Mother to support.  

She must rest now.  Save what little can be saved.
For the time when she must rise again.
A time when the wind will carry her breath
to  breathe life into what remains.
And she shall rise again.

Renewal.  Mother will rise once more.
And for a while, there will be no callousness
no blight of forgotten crimes
against the lifeblood that sustains her;
Mother Earth.  Only she shall remember
that once, there was greatness in Mankind...

Mother walked into the Sea this morning.
Harkened to the song of Neptune;
the wail of the sirens.
She was called to beauty.

Mother walked into the Sea this morning,
but she did not walk out.

Lin Cava
20-June-2013

As of June 19, 2013 the world's human population is estimated to be 7.093 billion by the United States Census Bureau, and over 7 billion by the United Nations.  Most contemporary estimates for the carrying capacity of the Earth under existing conditions (which is the ability of earth to sustain the population of man) are between 4 billion and 16 billion. World Population Organization has stated that the growth of human populations now exceeds the ability of the earth to sustain them.

*****************­*
Depending on which estimate is used, human overpopulation may or may not have already occurred.  Nevertheless, the rapid recent increase in human population is causing some concern. The population is expected to reach between 8 and 10.5 billion between the year 2040 and 2050. In May 2011, the United Nations increased the medium variant projections to 9.3 billion for 2050 and 10.1 billion for 2100.

Something has to give.  There will be disease, and increased loss of life by natural occurrences because of sheer volume of population alone.  There will be genocide, and hidden agenda's carried out by the powerful and wealthy which will remain secret.  We are so capable of saving many, but just as capable of biological destruction.  Culling of the herds.  It will not be fiction, just as "1984" is no longer fiction...
Terry O'Leary Dec 2013
Ill-fated crowds neath unchained clouds: the Silent City braved
against a sudden flashing flood, unleashing lashing waves,
which stripped its stony structures, blown with neutron bursts that laved.

Its barren streets, although effete, resound of yesterday
with chit-chat words no longer heard (though having much to say)
since teeming life (at one time, rife), surceased and slipped away.

Within its walls? Whist buildings, tall... Outside the City? Dunes,
which limn its frail forgotten tales, in weird unworldly runes
with symbols strung like halos hung in lifeless, limp festoons.

Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.

Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, throughout the doomed domain
reflecting white, wee wisps of light in ebon beads of bane
which cast a crooked smile across a faceless windowpane.

Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in silent swinging gait),
whelm ballrooms, bars, bereft bazaars, though no one’s left to fete.

Death's silhouettes show no regrets, 'twixt twilight’s ashen shrouds,
oblivious she always was to cries in dying crowds –
in foggy neap the spirits creep beyond the mushroom clouds.


No ghosts of ones with jagged tongues will sing a silent psalm
nor haunt pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm.



The City’s blur? A sepulcher for Christians, Muslims, Jews –
Cathedrals, Temples, vacant now, enshrine their residues,
for churches, mosques and synagogues abide without a bruise.

No cantillation, belfry bells, monastic chants inspire
and Minarets, though standing yet, host neither voice nor crier -
abodes and buildings silhouette a muted spectral choir.

A church’s Gothic ceilings guard the empty pews below
and, all alone amongst the stones, a maiden’s blue jabot.
The Saints, in crypts, though nondescript, grace halos now aglow.

Stray footsteps swarm through church no more (apostates that profane)
though echoes in the nave still din and chalice cups retain
an altar wine that tastes of brine decaying in the rain.

Coiled candle sticks, with twisted wicks, no longer 'lume the cracks -
their dying flames revealed the shame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
when deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.

Six steeple towers, steel though now drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.

The chapel chimes? Their clapper rope (that tongue-tied confidante)
won’t writhe to ring the carillon, alone and lean and gaunt –
its flocks of jute, now fallen mute, adorn the holy font.


No saints will come with jagged tongues to sing a silent psalm
nor bless pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm.


Beyond the suburbs, farmers’ fields (where donkeys often brayed)
inhale gray gusts of barren dust where living seed once laid
and in the haze a scarecrow sways, impaled upon a *****.

Green trees gone dark in palace parks (where kids once paused to play),
watch lifeless things on phantom swings (like statues made of clay)
guard marbled tombs in graveyards groomed for grievers bent to pray.

And castle clocks, unwound, defrock with speechless spinning spokes,
unfurling blight of reigning Night by sweeping off her cloaks,
and flaunting dun oblivion, her Baroness evokes.

The sun-bleached bones of those who'd flown lie scattered down the lanes
while other souls who’d hid in holes left bones with yellow stains
of plaintive tears (shed insincere, for no one felt the pains).

The wraiths that scream in sleepless dreams have ceased to terrify
though terrors wrought by conscience fraught now stalk and lurk nearby
within the shrouds of curtained clouds, frail fabrics on the sky.

And fog no longer seeps beyond the edge of doom’s café,
for when she trails her mourning veils, she fills the cabaret
with sallow smears of misty tears in sheets of shallow gray.

The City’s still, like hollowed quill with ravished feathered vane,
baptized in floods of spattered blood, once flowing through a vein.
The fruits of life, destroyed in strife... ’twas truly all in vain.


No umbras hum with jagged tongues nor sing a silent psalm
nor lade pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, beneath a neutron bomb.


EPILOGUE

Beyond the Silent City’s walls, the victors laugh and play
while celebrating PEACE ON EARTH, the devil’s sobriquet
for neutron radiation death in places far away.
Terry O'Leary  Sep 2013
NeverLand
Terry O'Leary Sep 2013
NOTE TO THE READER – Once Apun a Time

This yarn is a flossy fabric woven of several earlier warped works, lightly laced together, adorned with fur-ther braided tails of human frailty. The looms were loosed, purling frantically this febrile fable...

Some pearls may be found wanting – unwanted or unwonted – piled or hanging loose, dangling free within a fuzzy flight of fancy...

The threads of this untethered tissue may be fastened, or be forgotten, or else be stranded by the readers and left unravelling in the knotted corners of their minds...

'twill be perchance that some may  laugh or loll in loopy stitches, else be torn or ripped apart, while others might just simply say “ ’tis made of hole cloth”, “sew what” or “cant seam to get the needle point”...,

yes, a proper disentanglement may take you for a spin on twisted twines of any strings you feel might need attaching or detaching…

picking knits, some may think that
       such strange things ‘have Never happened in our Land’,
       such quaint things ‘could Never happen in our Land’’,
       such murky things ‘will Never happen in our Land’’…

and this may all be true, if credence be dis-carded…

such is that gooey gossamer which vails the human mind...

and thus was born the teasing title of this fabricated Fantasy...

                                NEVER LAND

An ancient man named Peter Pan, disguised but from the past,
with feathered cap and tunic wrap and sabre’s sailed his last.
Though fully grown, on dust he’s flown and perched upon a mast
atop the Walls around the sprawls, unvisited and vast -
and all the while with bitter smile he’s watching us aghast.

As day begins, a spindle spins, it weaves a wanton web;
like puckered prunes, like midday moons, like yesterday’s celebs,
we scrape and *****, we seldom hope - he watches while we ebb:

The ***** grinder preaches fine on Sunday afternoons -
he quotes from books but overlooks the Secrets Carved in Runes:
“You’ve tried and toyed, but can’t avoid or shun the pale monsoons,
it’s sink or swim as echoed dim in swinging door saloons”.
The laughingstocks are flinging rocks at ball-and-chained baboons.

While ghetto boys are looting toys preparing for their doom
and Mademoiselles are weaving shells on tapestries with looms,
Cathedral cats and rafter rats are peering in the room,
where ragged strangers stoop for change, for coppers in the gloom,
whose thoughts are more upon the doors of crypts in Christmas bloom,
and gold doubloons and silver spoons that tempt beyond the tomb.

Mid *** shots from vacant lots, that strike and ricochet
a painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy)’s on her way
to tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
and indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
to any guy who’s passing by with time and cash to pay.
(In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
with flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.)

Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a ****** titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.

The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.

A *** called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.

The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with ****.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbrue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.

The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.

Old Dan, he’s drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain and flailing in the flood
and no god’s there inclined to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.

Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”

A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry ***** -
she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
then stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.

So Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood cling, splattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”

Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, *****, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.

Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.

Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.

The eyes behind the head inclined reflect a universe
of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
of ****** tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
while poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.

A sodden dreg with wooden leg is dancing for a dime
to sacred psalms and other balms, all ticking with the time.
He’s 22, he’s almost through, he’s melted in his prime,
his bane is firm, the canker worm dissolves his brain to slime.
With slanted scales and twisted jails, his life’s his only crime.

A beggar clump beside a dump has pencil box in hand.
With sightless eyes upon the skies he’s lying there unmanned,
with no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it’s covered up and bland,
and Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.

While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
the painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
and now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.

Some boys with cheek play hide and seek within a house condemned,
their faces gaunt reflecting want that’s hard to comprehend.
With no excuse an old recluse is waiting to descend.
His eyes despair behind the stare, he’s never had a friend
to talk about his hidden doubt of how the world will end -
to die alone on empty throne and other Fates impend.

And soon the boys chase phantom joys and, presto when they’re gone,
the old recluse, with nimble noose and ****** features drawn,
no longer waits upon the Fates but yawns his final yawn
- like Tinker Bell, he spins a spell, in fairy dust chiffon -
with twisted brow, he’s tranquil now, he’s floating like a swan
and as he fades from life’s charades, the night awaits the dawn.

A boomerang with ebon fang is soaring through the air
to pierce and breach the heart of each and then is called despair.
And as it grows it will oppose and fester everywhere.
And yet the crop that’s at the top will still be unaware.

A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
His face is black, he’s on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
he bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
the sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.

Now Railroad Bob’s done lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a ****, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.

Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
“the answer’s no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
and don’t be sad, it aint that bad, it’s soon your time for dying.”
The air is thick, his baby’s sick, the cries are multiplying.

Bob’s wife’s in town, she’s broken down, she’s ranting with a fury,
their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow flies all a’ flurry.
Hard work’s the sin that’s done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry,
and midnight dreams abound with screams. Bob knows he needs to hurry.
It’s getting late, Bob’s tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry;
he chooses gas, they breathe their last, there’s no more cause to worry.

Per protocols near ivied walls arrayed in sage festoons,
the Countess quips, while giving tips, to crimson caped buffoons:
“To rise from mass to upper class, like twirly bird tycoons,
you stretch the treat you always eat, with tiny tablespoons”

A learned leach begins to teach (with songs upon a liar):
“Within the thrall of Satan’s call to yield to dim desire
lie wicked lies that tantalize the flesh and blood Vampire;
abiding souls with self-control in everyday Hellfire
will rest assured, when once interred, in afterlife’s Empire”.
These words reweave the make believe, while slugs in salt expire,
baptised in tears and rampant fears, all mirrored in the mire.

It’s getting hot on private yachts, though far from desert plains -
“Well, come to think, we’ll have a drink”, Sir Captain Hook ordains.
Beyond the blame and pit of shame, outside the Walled domains,
they pet their pups and raise their cups, take sips of pale champagnes
to touch the tips of languid lips with pearls of purple rains.

Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.
The ruling lot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
“The gypsies’ soul, I can’t control, my patience wears and wanes;
they will not cede to common greed, which conquers far domains
and furtive spies and news that lies have barely baked their brains.
But in the court of last resort the final fix remains:
in boxcar bins with violins we’ll freight them out in trains
and in the bogs, they’ll die like dogs, and everybody gains
(should one ask why, a quick reply: ‘It’s that which God ordains!’)”

Arrayed in shawls with crystal *****, and gazing at the moons,
wiled women tease with melodies and spooky loony tunes
while making toasts to holey ghosts on rainy day lagoons:
“Well, here’s to you and others too, embedded in the dunes,
avoid the stares, avoid the snares, avoid the veiled typhoons
and fend your way as every day, ’gainst heavy heeled dragoons.”

The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word
(of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;
they roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd,
to tell the tale of Jonah’s whale and other rhymes absurd
with shifty eyes, they’re giving whys for living life deferred.

While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles
feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle.
The naive dare to say “Unfair, let’s try to reconcile.
We’ll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.”

With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled.
The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style.
Before the Court, their sins are short, they’re swept into a pile;
with diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled.

The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial:
“You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File.
And wait instead, for when you’re dead, for riches after while”;
Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile:
“If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial,
then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh’s Crocodile.”
The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile,
the riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile.

The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest.
He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced
(“the last are first, the rich are cursed” - the leached remain the least)
with crossing signs and ****** wines and consecrated yeast.
His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast;
he thanks the Lord for room and, bored, he nods to Eden East
but doesn’t sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased.

The sinking sun’s at last undone, the sky glows faintly red.
A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread
and babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed;
with vacant eyes they'll fantasize and dream of gingerbread,
and so be freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead.

Fat midnight bats feast, gnawing gnats, and flit away serene
while on the trails in distant dales the lonesome wolverine
sate appetites on foggy nights and days like crystalline.
A migrant feeds on gnats and weeds with fingers far from clean
and thereby’s blessed with barren breast (the easier to wean) -
her baby ***** an arid flux and fades away unseen.

The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land –
they swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
while Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
and Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
while Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
to Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
but No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
and Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.

The Monk of Mock has fled the flock caught knocking up a tween.
(She brought to light the special rite he sought to leave unseen.)
With profaned eyes they agonise, their souls no more serene
and at the shrine the flutes of wine are filled with kerosene
by men unkempt who once had dreamt but now can dream no more
except when bellowed bellies belch an ever growing roar,
which churns the seas and whips a breeze that mercy can’t ignore,
and in the night, though filled with fright, they try to end the War.

The slow and quick are hurling bricks and fight with clubs of rage
to break the chains and cleanse the stains of life within a cage,
but yield to stings of armoured things that crush in every age.

At crack of dawn, a broken pawn, in pools of blood and fire,
attends the wounds, in blood festooned (the waves flow nigh and nigher),
while ghetto towns are burning down (the flames grow high and higher);
and in their wake, a golden snake is rising from the pyre.
Her knees are bare, consumed in prayer, applauded by the Friar,
and soon it’s clear the end is near - while magpie birds conspire,
the lowly worm is made to squirm while dangling from a wire.

The line was crossed, the battle lost, the losers can’t deny,
the residues are far and few, though smoke pervades the sky.
The cool wind’s cruel, a cutting tool, the vanquished ask it “Why?”,
and bittersweet, from  Easy Street, the Pashas’ puffed reply:
“The rules are set, so don’t forget, the rabble will comply;
the grapes of wrath may make you laugh, the day you are to die.”

The down and out, they knock about beneath the barren skies
where homeward bound, without a sound, a ravaged raven flies.
Beyond the Walls, the morning calls the newborn sun to rise,
and Peter Pan, a broken man, inclines his head and cries...
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
She said, ‘You are funny, the way you set yourself up the moment we arrive. You look into every room to see if it’s suitable as a place to work. Is there a table? Where are the plugs? Is there a good chair at the right height? If there isn’t, are there cushions to make it so? You are funny.’
 
He countered this, but his excuse didn’t sound very convincing. He knew exactly what she meant, but it hurt him a little that she should think it ‘funny’. There’s nothing funny about trying to compose music, he thought. It’s not ‘radio in the head’ you know – this was a favourite expression he’d once heard an American composer use. You don’t just turn a switch and the music’s playing, waiting for you to write it down. You have to find it – though he believed it was usually there, somewhere, waiting to be found. But it’s elusive. You have to work hard to detect what might be there, there in the silence of your imagination.
 
Later over their first meal in this large cottage she said, ‘How do you stop hearing all those settings of the Mass that you must have heard or sung since childhood?’ She’d been rehearsing Verdi’s Requiem recently and was full of snippets of this stirring piece. He was a) writing a Mass to celebrate a cathedral’s reordering after a year as a building site, and b) he’d been a boy chorister and the form and order of the Mass was deeply engrained in his aural memory. He only had to hear the plainsong introduction Gloria in Excelsis Deo to be back in the Queen’s chapel singing Palestrina, or Byrd or Poulenc.
 
His ‘found’ corner was in the living room. The table wasn’t a table but a long cabinet she’d kindly covered with a tablecloth. You couldn’t get your feet under the thing, but with his little portable drawing board there was space to sit properly because the board jutted out beyond the cabinet’s top. It was the right length and its depth was OK, enough space for the board and, next to it, his laptop computer. On the floor beside his chair he placed a few of his reference scores and a box of necessary ‘bits’.
 
The room had two large sofas, an equally large television, some unexplainable and instantly dismissible items of decoration, a standard lamp, and a wood burning stove. The stove was wonderful, and on their second evening in the cottage, when clear skies and a stiff breeze promised a cold night, she’d lit it and, as the evening progressed, they basked in its warmth, she filling envelopes with her cards, he struggling with sleep over a book.
 
Despite and because this was a new, though temporary, location he had got up at 5.0am. This is a usual time for composers who need their daily fix of absolute quiet. And here, in this cottage set amidst autumn fields, within sight of a river estuary, under vast, panoramic uninterrupted skies, there was the distinct possibility of silence – all day. The double-glazing made doubly sure of that.
 
He had sat with a mug of tea at 5.10 and contemplated the silence, or rather what infiltrated the stillness of the cottage as sound. In the kitchen the clock ticked, the refrigerator seemed to need a period of machine noise once its door had been opened. At 6.0am the central heating fired up for a while. Outside, the small fruit trees in the garden moved vigorously in the wind, but he couldn’t hear either the wind or a rustle of leaves.  A car droned past on the nearby road. The clear sky began to lighten promising a fine day. This would certainly do for silence.
 
His thoughts returned to her question of the previous evening, and his answer. He was about to face up to his explanation. ‘I empty myself of all musical sound’, he’d said, ‘I imagine an empty space into which I might bring a single note, a long held drone of a note, a ‘d’ above middle ‘c’ on a chamber ***** (seeing it’s a Mass I’m writing).  Harrison Birtwistle always starts on an ‘e’. A ‘d’ to me seems older and kinder. An ‘e’ is too modern and progressive, slightly brash and noisy.’
 
He can see she is quizzical with this anecdotal stuff. Is he having me on? But no, he is not having her on. Such choices are important. Without them progress would be difficult when the thinking and planning has to stop and the composing has to begin. His notebook, sitting on his drawing board with some first sketches, plays testament to that. In this book glimpses of music appear in rhythmic abstracts, though rarely any pitches, and there are pages of written description. He likes to imagine what a new work is, and what it is not. This he writes down. Composer Paul Hindemith reckoned you had first to address the ‘conditions of performance’. That meant thinking about the performers, the location, above all the context. A Mass can be, for a composer, so many things. There were certainly requirements and constraints. The commission had to fulfil a number of criteria, some imposed by circumstance, some self-imposed by desire. All this goes into the melting ***, or rather the notebook. And after the notebook, he takes a large piece of A3 paper and clarifies this thinking and planning onto (if possible) a single sheet.
 
And so, to the task in hand. His objective, he had decided, is to focus on the whole rather than the particular. Don’t think about the Kyrie on its own, but consider how it lies with the Gloria. And so with the Sanctus & Benedictus. How do they connect to the Agnus Dei. He begins on the A3 sheet of plain paper ‘making a map of connections’. Kyrie to Gloria, Gloria to Credo and so on. Then what about Agnus Dei and the Gloria? Is there going to be any commonality – in rhythm, pace and tempo (we’ll leave melody and harmony for now)? Steady, he finds himself saying, aren’t we going back over old ground? His notebook has pages of attempts at rhythmizing the text. There are just so many ways to do this. Each rhythmic solution begets a different slant of meaning.
 
This is to be a congregational Mass, but one that has a role for a 4-part choir and ***** and a ‘jazz instrument’. Impatient to see notes on paper, he composes a new introduction to a Kyrie as a rhythmic sketch, then, experimentally, adds pitches. He scores it fully, just 10 bars or so, but it is barely finished before his critical inner voice says, ‘What’s this for? Do you all need this? This is showing off.’ So the filled-out sketch drops to the floor and he examines this element of ‘beginning’ the incipit.
 
He remembers how a meditation on that word inhabits the opening chapter of George Steiner’s great book Grammars of Creation. He sees in his mind’s eye the complex, colourful and ornate letter that begins the Lindesfarne Gospels. His beginnings for each movement, he decides, might be two chords, one overlaying the other: two ‘simple’ diatonic chords when sounded separately, but complex and with a measure of mystery when played together. The Mass is often described as a mystery. It is that ritual of a meal undertaken by a community of people who in the breaking of bread and wine wish to bring God’s presence amongst them. So it is a mystery. And so, he tells himself, his music will aim to hold something of mystery. It should not be a comment on that mystery, but be a mystery itself. It should not be homely and comfortable; it should be as minimal and sparing of musical commentary as possible.
 
When, as a teenager, he first began to set words to music he quickly experienced the need (it seemed) to fashion accompaniments that were commentaries on the text the voice was singing. These accompaniments did not underpin the words so much as add a commentary upon them. What lay beneath the words was his reaction, indeed imaginative extension of the words. He eschewed then both melisma and repetition. He sought an extreme independence between word and music, even though the word became the scenario of the music. Any musical setting was derived from the composition of the vocal line.  It was all about finding the ‘key’ to a song, what unlocked the door to the room of life it occupied. The music was the room where the poem’s utterance lived.
 
With a Mass you were in trouble for the outset. There was a poetry of sorts, but poetry that, in the countless versions of the vernacular, had lost (perhaps had never had) the resonance of the Latin. He thought suddenly of the supposed words of William Byrd, ‘He who sings prays twice’. Yes, such commonplace words are intercessional, but when sung become more than they are. But he knew he had to be careful here.
 
Why do we sing the words of the Mass he asks himself? Do we need to sing these words of the Mass? Are they the words that Christ spoke as he broke bread and poured wine to his friends and disciples at his last supper? The answer is no. Certainly these words of the Mass we usually sing surround the most intimate words of that final meal, words only the priest in Christ’s name may articulate.
 
Write out the words of the Mass that represent its collective worship and what do you have? Rather non-descript poetry? A kind of formula for collective incantation during worship? Can we read these words and not hear a surrounding music? He thinks for a moment of being asked to put new music to words of The Beatles. All you need is love. Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away. Oh bla dee oh bla da life goes on. Now, now this is silliness, his Critical Voice complains. And yet it’s not. When you compose a popular song the gap between some words scribbled on the back of an envelope and the hook of chords and melody developed in an accidental moment (that becomes a way of clothing such words) is often minimal. Apart, words and music seem like orphans in a storm. Together they are home and dry.
 
He realises, and not for the first time, that he is seeking a total musical solution to the whole of the setting of those words collectively given voice to by those participating in the Mass.
 
And so: to the task in hand. His objective: to focus on the whole rather than the particular.  Where had he heard that thought before? - when he had sat down at his drawing board an hour and half previously. He’d gone in a circle of thought, and with his sketch on the floor at his feet, nothing to show for all that effort.
 
Meanwhile the sun had risen. He could hear her moving about in the bathroom. He went to the kitchen and laid out what they would need to breakfast together. As he poured milk into a jug, primed the toaster, filled the kettle, the business of what might constitute a whole solution to this setting of the Mass followed him around the kitchen and breakfast room like a demanding child. He knew all about demanding children. How often had he come home from his studio to prepare breakfast and see small people to school? - more often than he cared to remember. And when he remembered he became sad that it was no more.  His children had so often provided a welcome buffer from sessions of intense thought and activity. He loved the walk to school, the first quarter of a mile through the park, a long avenue of chestnut trees. It was always the end of April and pink and white blossoms were appearing, or it was September and there were conkers everywhere. It was under these trees his daughter would skip and even his sons would hold hands with him; he would feel their warmth, their livingness.
 
But now, preparing breakfast, his Critical Voice was that demanding child and he realised when she appeared in the kitchen he spoke to her with a voice of an artist in conversation with his critics, not the voice of the man who had the previous night lost himself to joy in her dear embrace. And he was ashamed it was so.
 
How he loved her gentle manner as she negotiated his ‘coming too’ after those two hours of concentration and inner dialogue. Gradually, by the second cup of coffee he felt a right person, and the hours ahead did not seem too impossible.
 
When she’d gone off to her work, silence reasserted itself. He played his viola for half an hour, just scales and exercises and a few folk songs he was learning by heart. This gathering habit was, he would say if asked, to reassert his musicianship, the link between his body and making sound musically. That the viola seemed to resonate throughout his whole body gave him pleasure. He liked the ****** movement required to produce a flowing sequence of bow strokes. The trick at the end of this daily practice was to put the instrument in its case and move immediately to his desk. No pause to check email – that blight on a morning’s work. No pause to look at today’s list. Back to the work in hand: the Mass.
 
But instead his mind and intention seemed to slip sideways and almost unconsciously he found himself sketching (on the few remaining staves of a vocal experiment) what appeared to be a piano piece. The rhythmic flow of it seemed to dance across the page to be halted only when the few empty staves were filled. He knew this was one of those pieces that addressed the pianist, not the listener. He sat back in his chair and imagined a scenario of a pianist opening this music and after a few minutes’ reflection and reading through allowing her hands to move very slowly and silently a few millimetres over the keys.  Such imagining led him to hear possible harmonic simultaneities, dynamics and articulations, though he knew such things would probably be lost or reinvented on a second imagined ‘performance’. No matter. Now his make-believe pianist sounded the first bar out. It had a depth and a richness that surprised him – it was a fine piano. He was touched by its affect. He felt the possibilities of extending what he’d written. So he did. And for the next half an hour lived in the pastures of good continuation, those rich luxuriant meadows reached by a rickerty rackerty bridge and guarded by a troll who today was nowhere to be seen.
 
It was a curious piece. It came to a halt on an enigmatic, go-nowhere / go-anywhere chord after what seemed a short declamatory coda (he later added the marking deliberamente). Then, after a few minutes reflection he wrote a rising arpeggio, a broken chord in which the consonant elements gradually acquired a rising sequence of dissonance pitches until halted by a repetition. As he wrote this ending he realised that the repeated note, an ‘a’ flat, was a kind of fulcrum around which the whole of the music moved. It held an enigmatic presence in the harmony, being sometimes a g# sometimes an ‘a’ flat, and its function often different. It made the music take on a wistful quality.
 
At that point he thought of her little artists’ book series she had titled Tide Marks. Many of these were made of a concertina of folded pages revealing - as your eyes moved through its pages - something akin to the tide’s longitudinal mark. This centred on the page and spread away both upwards and downwards, just like those mirror images of coloured glass seen in a child’s kaleidoscope. No moment of view was ever quite the same, but there were commonalities born of the conditions of a certain day and time.  His ‘Tide Mark’ was just like that. He’d followed a mark made in his imagination from one point to another point a little distant. The musical working out also had a reflection mechanism: what started in one hand became mirrored in the other. He had unexpectedly supplied an ending, this arpegiated gesture of finality that wasn’t properly final but faded away. When he thought further about the role of the ending, he added a few more notes to the arpeggio, but notes that were not be sounded but ghosted, the player miming a press of the keys.
 
He looked at the clock. Nearly five o’clock. The afternoon had all but disappeared. Time had retreated into glorious silence . There had been three whole hours of it. How wonderful that was after months of battling with the incessant and draining turbulence of sound that was ever present in his city life. To be here in this quiet cottage he could now get thoroughly lost – in silence. Even when she was here he could be a few rooms apart, and find silence.
 
A week more of this, a fortnight even . . . but he knew he might only manage a few days before visitors arrived and his long day would be squeezed into the early morning hours and occasional uncertain periods when people were out and about.
 
When she returned, very soon now, she would make tea and cut cake, and they’d sit (like old people they wer
In a quiet, pleasant meadow,
Beneath a summer sky,
Where green old trees their branches waved,
And winds went singing by;
Where a little brook went rippling
So musically low,
And passing clouds cast shadows
On the waving grass below;
Where low, sweet notes of brooding birds
Stole out on the fragrant air,
And golden sunlight shone undimmed
On all most fresh and fair;--
There bloomed a lovely sisterhood
Of happy little flowers,
Together in this pleasant home,
Through quiet summer hours.
No rude hand came to gather them,
No chilling winds to blight;
Warm sunbeams smiled on them by day,
And soft dews fell at night.
So here, along the brook-side,
Beneath the green old trees,
The flowers dwelt among their friends,
The sunbeams and the breeze.

One morning, as the flowers awoke,
Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,
A little worm came creeping by,
And begged a shelter there.
'Ah! pity and love me,' sighed the worm,
'I am lonely, poor, and weak;
A little spot for a resting-place,
Dear flowers, is all I seek.
I am not fair, and have dwelt unloved
By butterfly, bird, and bee.
They little knew that in this dark form
Lay the beauty they yet may see.
Then let me lie in the deep green moss,
And weave my little tomb,
And sleep my long, unbroken sleep
Till Spring's first flowers come.
Then will I come in a fairer dress,
And your gentle care repay
By the grateful love of the humble worm;
Kind flowers, O let me stay!'
But the wild rose showed her little thorns,
While her soft face glowed with pride;
The violet hid beneath the drooping ferns,
And the daisy turned aside.
Little Houstonia scornfully laughed,
As she danced on her slender stem;
While the cowslip bent to the rippling waves,
And whispered the tale to them.
A blue-eyed grass looked down on the worm,
As it silently turned away,
And cried, 'Thou wilt harm our delicate leaves,
And therefore thou canst not stay.'
Then a sweet, soft voice, called out from far,
'Come hither, poor worm, to me;
The sun lies warm in this quiet spot,
And I'll share my home with thee.'
The wondering flowers looked up to see
Who had offered the worm a home:
'T was a clover-blossom, whose fluttering leaves
Seemed beckoning him to come;
It dwelt in a sunny little nook,
Where cool winds rustled by,
And murmuring bees and butterflies came,
On the flower's breast to lie.
Down through the leaves the sunlight stole,
And seemed to linger there,
As if it loved to brighten the home
Of one so sweet and fair.
Its rosy face smiled kindly down,
As the friendless worm drew near;
And its low voice, softly whispering, said
'Poor thing, thou art welcome here;
Close at my side, in the soft green moss,
Thou wilt find a quiet bed,
Where thou canst softly sleep till Spring,
With my leaves above thee spread.
I pity and love thee, friendless worm,
Though thou art not graceful or fair;
For many a dark, unlovely form,
Hath a kind heart dwelling there;
No more o'er the green and pleasant earth,
Lonely and poor, shalt thou roam,
For a loving friend hast thou found in me,
And rest in my little home.'
Then, deep in its quiet mossy bed,
Sheltered from sun and shower,
The grateful worm spun its winter tomb,
In the shadow of the flower.
And Clover guarded well its rest,
Till Autumn's leaves were sere,
Till all her sister flowers were gone,
And her winter sleep drew near.
Then her withered leaves were softly spread
O'er the sleeping worm below,
Ere the faithful little flower lay
Beneath the winter snow.

Spring came again, and the flowers rose
From their quiet winter graves,
And gayly danced on their slender stems,
And sang with the rippling waves.
Softly the warm winds kissed their cheeks;
Brightly the sunbeams fell,
As, one by one, they came again
In their summer homes to dwell.
And little Clover bloomed once more,
Rosy, and sweet, and fair,
And patiently watched by the mossy bed,
For the worm still slumbered there.
Then her sister flowers scornfully cried,
As they waved in the summer air,
'The ugly worm was friendless and poor;
Little Clover, why shouldst thou care?
Then watch no more, nor dwell alone,
Away from thy sister flowers;
Come, dance and feast, and spend with us
These pleasant summer hours.
We pity thee, foolish little flower,
To trust what the false worm said;
He will not come in a fairer dress,
For he lies in the green moss dead.'
But little Clover still watched on,
Alone in her sunny home;
She did not doubt the poor worm's truth,
And trusted he would come.

At last the small cell opened wide,
And a glittering butterfly,
From out the moss, on golden wings,
Soared up to the sunny sky.
Then the wondering flowers cried aloud,
'Clover, thy watch was vain;
He only sought a shelter here,
And never will come again.'
And the unkind flowers danced for joy,
When they saw him thus depart;
For the love of a beautiful butterfly
Is dear to a flower's heart.
They feared he would stay in Clover's home,
And her tender care repay;
So they danced for joy, when at last he rose
And silently flew away.
Then little Clover bowed her head,
While her soft tears fell like dew;
For her gentle heart was grieved, to find
That her sisters' words were true,
And the insect she had watched so long
When helpless, poor, and lone,
Thankless for all her faithful care,
On his golden wings had flown.
But as she drooped, in silent grief,
She heard little Daisy cry,
'O sisters, look! I see him now,
Afar in the sunny sky;
He is floating back from Cloud-Land now,
Borne by the fragrant air.
Spread wide your leaves, that he may choose
The flower he deems most fair.'
Then the wild rose glowed with a deeper blush,
As she proudly waved on her stem;
The Cowslip bent to the clear blue waves,
And made her mirror of them.
Little Houstonia merrily danced,
And spread her white leaves wide;
While Daisy whispered her joy and hope,
As she stood by her gay friends' side.
Violet peeped from the tall green ferns,
And lifted her soft blue eye
To watch the glittering form, that shone
Afar in the summer sky.
They thought no more of the ugly worm,
Who once had wakened their scorn;
But looked and longed for the butterfly now,
As the soft wind bore him on.

Nearer and nearer the bright form came,
And fairer the blossoms grew;
Each welcomed him, in her sweetest tones;
Each offered her honey and dew.
But in vain did they beckon, and smile, and call,
And wider their leaves unclose;
The glittering form still floated on,
By Violet, Daisy, and Rose.
Lightly it flew to the pleasant home
Of the flower most truly fair,
On Clover's breast he softly lit,
And folded his bright wings there.
'Dear flower,' the butterfly whispered low,
'Long hast thou waited for me;
Now I am come, and my grateful love
Shall brighten thy home for thee;
Thou hast loved and cared for me, when alone,
Hast watched o'er me long and well;
And now will I strive to show the thanks
The poor worm could not tell.
Sunbeam and breeze shall come to thee,
And the coolest dews that fall;
Whate'er a flower can wish is thine,
For thou art worthy all.
And the home thou shared with the friendless worm
The butterfly's home shall be;
And thou shalt find, dear, faithful flower,
A loving friend in me.'
Then, through the long, bright summer hours
Through sunshine and through shower,
Together in their happy home
Dwelt butterfly and flower.
Terry O'Leary Jul 2015
As dawn unfolds today beyond my fractured windowpane,
a breeze beguiles the ashen drapes. Like snakes they slip aside,
revealing wanton worlds that race and run aground, insane,
immersed in scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the twisted streets retreat. Last night they seemed so cruel.
While lamps illumed lithe demons dancing neath the gallows tree,
their lurking shadows shuddered as they breached the vestibule.
Within the gloom strange things abound, I sense and sometimes see.

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which soothe the ones who weep)
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave, it’s soon their time to sleep!
The alleyways are silent now but taste of untold grief.

Distraught nomadic drifters (dregs who stray from street to street)
abandon bedtime benches, squat on curbs they call a home,
appeal to passing strangers for a coin or bite to eat.
Rebuffed, they gaze with icy eyes that chill the morning gloam.

Observe with me once more, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the broken boy with crooked smile, the one who's seen the beast.
With tears, he kneels and clasps the cross to exorcise the stain.
The abbey door along the lane enshrouds a pious priest.

At nearby mall, Mike needs a cig, and stealth'ly steals a pack.
The Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling six times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

The shanty town has hunkered down engaged in mortal sports
while shattered bodies' broken bones at last repose supine,
and mama (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contorts,
her eyes drip drops of bitter wrath which wither on a vine.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the crowded alley now.
To pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line.
The NRA (which deals with doom) can sometimes help somehow,
though Eric died with Dylan in ‘The Curse of Columbine’.

Marauders scam the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while babes with bloated bellies beg with barren sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel confronts us all, though few can ring the prize.

Yes, Mr Madoff, private bankster (cruising down the road,
with other Ponzi pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed),
and jests with all the junkies, while they’re bilking us with bonds.

A timeworn washerwoman totters, stumbling from a tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a dismal distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, prays then downs her final dram -
a raven quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on her sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake
(yes, God adores the faithful side, the heathen sides He hates),
with saintly satisfaction reaped begetting pagan ache.

All day the watchers skulk around our fractured windowpanes
inspecting all our secret thoughts, our realms of privacy,
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Our rulers (kings and other things) have often made demands
of populations breathing air on near or distant shores
and when they didn’t yield and kneel, we conquered all their lands
with sticks and stones, then bullets, bombs and battleships in wars.

Come, cast just once a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways with freedom’s dying breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers grill their wards.
Impartial trials? A travesty, indeed quite Kafkaesque.
The guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
No sense, no charges nor defense. A verdict? Yes, grotesque!

Now dusk is drawing near outside my fractured windowpane
while mankind wanes like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within a corpse, the fruit of human blight.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I am taken from Yunann to the
coastal Province of Fujian, where
boats sail fair as fishermen fish. I
land by a pond with waters cascading
down boulders and rocks as old as
time itself.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But even though there are trimmed
and hale blades of green, there is a
single flora, the corona of the water
Not the chrysanthemum with its svelte,
curling petals of the gelid transition
from the crimson leaves of autumn
kissed by the rathe winters.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Instead it is a single fuchsia lotus
bud,a pristine and graceful soul
unperturbed by murked waters.
As I get a closer look, the lotus
open slowly into full bloom and
with it, the golden essence -
ethereal, a star that throbs like
a heaven's dream, and it appears -
the phoenix.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Its plumage a brilliant shade of
red-gold, and wings and long tail
beset by iridescent streaks and jewels.
Slim-legged, clawed feet of a deep azure
and eyes, such a blight blue-green.
Looking to the sky, it releases such
a melodious cry and a star falls
a throbbing silver-white. It glides
to my hands and it is revealed,
another glorious Pearl Moon.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a peck of its beak, the Moon
cracks once more and my nose is
besieged by leaf pellets scented o'er
and o'er with fresh jasmine blossoms.
Seaweed green with licks of marigold
and shaped after the Phoenix's hot
eye.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Unlike the Dragon's Pu'erh pearls,
this aroma is dainty in its sweet floral
with a kiss of green; I can taste the sugar!
Velveteen on my tongue! A brew worthy
of chosen Kings and Queens. I notice that
the light of the Phoenix begins to fade.
As our eyes meet, it cries once more, a
sweet and happy cry born of Elysia,
before it fades away in gust of wind.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The lotus petals fall off and float,
becoming soft rose-kissed boats;
the leaves have yellowed, browned
and wilted. All that remains is a
dry stamens but I see that the
ovaries are beginning to
flourish...

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Ahh,' my eyes now open, dazed,
'The Phoenix Eye pearls. Such a
fine golden liquor you will become!'
Anihana smiles, 'Indeed, My Lady.'
'I assume the final batch is its twin
sister?'
'Yes, My Lady. Jasmine, Green and
Lily pearls.' Anihana places the
burr-oak caddy down to grab the
caddy maple-wood.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Each pearl, all laboured with love,' I
coo. 'Such fresh tender herbs rolled into
blessed pearls that are either fermented
or sit with it's blossoming flowers for
many days and nights. Cover the Pu'erh
and the Jasmine Lily. I wish to be cleansed
by the Phoenix Eyes.'
'Yes, Sweet Queen.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Part five of my Jasmine Pearls free verse!
Enjoy! ^-^
Lyn ***
Àŧùl Aug 2013
Dig the ground,
Deeper & broader,
Large enough to accommodate,
And peacefully lay us,
The commoners to rest,
Without causing any disturbance,
To the Clout-clad looters.

Don't rest till you collapse lifelessly,
Into the mud extracted for digging,
Digging their trap deeper enough,
Deeper enough for all the clout,
'Cause you wouldn't even want,
Their zombies to be turn-out,
Escaping out stark naked,
Out in future to plight,
****** and blight,
Pester and fester
The future generation.

Oh but do we not know,
They will survive and flourish,
Indian or Russian or American or British,
The clout will always be there to ****/eat,
**** blood and eat meatballs,
Why they will survive,
And why the civilians suffer isn't riddle.
I refer to hoes as tools for digging, like the ones you might use in your gardens; the other meaning may also fit in with other combinations of similar words.

Clout-clad looters = Politicians

There's this globalization of the schemes of scams.

Hopefully, this lantern of questions will enlighten the way.

My HP Poem #401
©Atul Kaushal
vircapio gale Sep 2012
wakefulness demands a certain clearness when asleep . . .
it doesn't come as planned
"tat tvam asi"
LaBerge says to me in dream of me
"this world you are, withstanding even torments thou art never seen."
and that's enough to suffer aching, opaque psyche summit, forward
heart to rise an interspecies knell when danceless fades the bee in droves...
aimless whales who singing deep in love are cut from evolution's murky chain...
fungal blight of hibernaculum, in deafened sonar sending sudden drop of death;
to horror fragment melt, the ocean swill from ancient caps to sunken polar paw
diverse in massacre of tropic forest fertile mists, lives dispersed
and balance tipped from blindness not unlike the sterile statue's, there
                                                          i­n dusty courthouse corner, shadow-lined with infamy...
what imagined cartoon causal Captain Planet              
                            villainy to blare across oneiromantic globe? and (dreaming?) civil strife,                  
       eradication's alter triumph pose to measure blame in inner life?
of empiric meditation's top, in *******
churning out abuse in deeper,
                                                         ­   younger hidden traffics yet to terrorize the net...                                  
                                             the scraping of the sky had punctured through                                
                         ­                                      from metaphor to fact
                                       the sooty barbs
                            in radiance rebound    
and irony affected 'green'
                  folds crisis and solution into one                            we hope
                like what we say we are, becoming change                      in wartime summer fling    
we                                                        
say we can in world of 'me'                                      
in guilt-assuaging verve
                                  the heifer-gift to village fief
    but then to rest against organic pillow-conscience gray                                                             ­       
                                                               soundly snoring smokestacks fill from ground to sky
still for sly investment windfall   fog  billow, shake...                             
transcontinental scape of dream imbued anew:
i am the genie of my ownmost inner lamp
in dreamtime-being spacious constellational of reach distilled
in contemplation's tratak zoom mInute
   with jet black finger trace
    i net                                                              ­                                        from out the inter-earthen air                
                                             ­                                              the lump on lump of coal
                massaging from                                                             ­      as if an ivory atmospheric                  
lift                   of      weight  
                           the sculpture of our past condensed in elephantine ******
                                                 miasmic fossil shower-haze of sporogenic fear,
mneumonic nail-tusk night of carbon-spirit back into its hold -- originary dark,
Dark light from burning black                                                 once again contained                                                      in elemental subterrain                                                       ­                                                       
         ­                                        --now it underlies the ground inside for triple shielding outshine
--outer-- light to cool us breathing once again . , ,    
false convenience in abeyance in a human time!                                
i am right now of inward self my soul supernal carbon imprint copy                             
for accounting every speciesistic mind to open wide enough and quell the "all-too human plagues--                                                                           ­       cheering all penultimates, in beams reflecting ante-truth          
                                                 down halls of mirror-minds that lightly discourse
on the ingress of a centaur saving power
channeling the leylines of inception,
ecstatic dreamworld of apotheosic glee:
parting the eidetic clouds,
commune an avatar intentionality . . .
ensorcelling the foodstuffs of the world to feed a dozen million refugees,
insectile diet pride attends in homes of affluence,
the abstract mass of media, become eupeptic cud of understanding bats and even bees--
for biospheres a Goodall stewardship arrives
(her perfect chimp call too resounds across the earth!)
and dwindled frogs their former ponds (unknown, destroyed without a sound)
return to chirping vibrant green symphonic swooning life
the glacial march of tears to halt . . .
all ecosystems rife withall
the panegyric of marshlands globally reborn  
along with shining waters, algaeic sun alive at play
in double-helix breath of dolphin families' bubble art
a sudden resurrect from ****** harvest cove arise cascading joyous leap
on final absence of the metal herding knock of trapping pods
no longer hacked in waves of pink, mere preparations for a restaurant sink--
they are free to swim the depth of worldheart dreaming unknown dream entire real again
marine apsaras dip in spectra (flicker eyelid) rays, reintroduce the dawn
her fine apparel calling forth transhuman destinies
unsplicing brilliant minds from ****** task of splicing GMOs
recycled randomness accepting death before we die
mycelium in runs of spilling-- all undone --
migrational attuned our resource use
and CSAs to thrive in eco-city scapes
no solopsistic somniac pretends
--the dream imbued in final hue
a momentary lapse, creationary flux--
the bombs defused in flick of wrist
indentured and enslaved, imprisoned innocents, oppressed and even self-deprived released
through selfhood's metaviral claim
ground of each dependent intertwining
whatness will to be
a place in which to hum in tune or out of tune
to heal and in a another dream aside from this perhaps with me partake
in true oneiric panoply of conflict held
--with permeating rigpa geogaze--
colliding ideologies transmuted into trust
in panharmonium of varied vision
and what the ever present boons of real, imagined symbol-real
create awake












.
PoserPersona Jul 2018
In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes;
once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize
the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry.
Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies.
Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide.
As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives.

...No words to describe affliction already decided.

— The End —