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Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,

Oh I like the things I like with size!

Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys…
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,

When I see it! UP! -Bup bup bup fuys,
When I see it! UP! -Bup bup bup fuys,
When I see it! UP! -Bup bup bup fuys,

When I see it and I like go sigh,
Oh I like the things I like with size!
Color my lips, make ‘em nice,
Smooth ‘em out pick up the guys,
Refreshed again I caught his eyes!

It’s Babbit-bow! Bup bup fuys,

Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,

It’s Babbit-Bow!
It’s Babbit-Bow!

I gotta have it, Oh!
Lick it nice,
Nice and slow,
Bup-bup fuys,
My Babbit-bow…
Lollipops guys!
Babbit-Bow!
Lollipops guys!

Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,

Up and down, slow and nice,
Lick ‘em, love ‘em, love that size,
Pop it out imma'-like oh my!
I gotta have it! My bup bup fuys…
Gotta have it! My bup bup fuys…

Oh I like the things I like with size!
When I see it and I’m like oh my!
My lips are sheer, they sheen like ice,
It’s Babbit-Bow! You ***** guys…
Oh I like the things I like with size!
My lips are sheer and sleek so nice,

It’s a Babbit-Bow!
Bup bup fuys,

Babbit-bow bup bup fuys…
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys…
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,
Babbit-bow bup bup fuys,

Fade out
Minerva now put it in Penelope’s mind to make the suitors try
their skill with the bow and with the iron axes, in contest among
themselves, as a means of bringing about their destruction. She went
upstairs and got the store room key, which was made of bronze and
had a handle of ivory; she then went with her maidens into the store
room at the end of the house, where her husband’s treasures of gold,
bronze, and wrought iron were kept, and where was also his bow, and
the quiver full of deadly arrows that had been given him by a friend
whom he had met in Lacedaemon—Iphitus the son of Eurytus. The two
fell in with one another in Messene at the house of Ortilochus,
where Ulysses was staying in order to recover a debt that was owing
from the whole people; for the Messenians had carried off three
hundred sheep from Ithaca, and had sailed away with them and with
their shepherds. In quest of these Ulysses took a long journey while
still quite young, for his father and the other chieftains sent him on
a mission to recover them. Iphitus had gone there also to try and
get back twelve brood mares that he had lost, and the mule foals
that were running with them. These mares were the death of him in
the end, for when he went to the house of Jove’s son, mighty Hercules,
who performed such prodigies of valour, Hercules to his shame killed
him, though he was his guest, for he feared not heaven’s vengeance,
nor yet respected his own table which he had set before Iphitus, but
killed him in spite of everything, and kept the mares himself. It
was when claiming these that Iphitus met Ulysses, and gave him the bow
which mighty Eurytus had been used to carry, and which on his death
had been left by him to his son. Ulysses gave him in return a sword
and a spear, and this was the beginning of a fast friendship, although
they never visited at one another’s houses, for Jove’s son Hercules
killed Iphitus ere they could do so. This bow, then, given him by
Iphitus, had not been taken with him by Ulysses when he sailed for
Troy; he had used it so long as he had been at home, but had left it
behind as having been a keepsake from a valued friend.
  Penelope presently reached the oak threshold of the store room;
the carpenter had planed this duly, and had drawn a line on it so as
to get it quite straight; he had then set the door posts into it and
hung the doors. She loosed the strap from the handle of the door,
put in the key, and drove it straight home to shoot back the bolts
that held the doors; these flew open with a noise like a bull
bellowing in a meadow, and Penelope stepped upon the raised
platform, where the chests stood in which the fair linen and clothes
were laid by along with fragrant herbs: reaching thence, she took down
the bow with its bow case from the peg on which it hung. She sat
down with it on her knees, weeping bitterly as she took the bow out of
its case, and when her tears had relieved her, she went to the
cloister where the suitors were, carrying the bow and the quiver, with
the many deadly arrows that were inside it. Along with her came her
maidens, bearing a chest that contained much iron and bronze which her
husband had won as prizes. When she reached the suitors, she stood
by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister,
holding a veil before her face, and with a maid on either side of her.
Then she said:
  “Listen to me you suitors, who persist in abusing the hospitality of
this house because its owner has been long absent, and without other
pretext than that you want to marry me; this, then, being the prize
that you are contending for, I will bring out the mighty bow of
Ulysses, and whomsoever of you shall string it most easily and send
his arrow through each one of twelve axes, him will I follow and
quit this house of my lawful husband, so goodly, and so abounding in
wealth. But even so I doubt not that I shall remember it in my
dreams.”
  As she spoke, she told Eumaeus to set the bow and the pieces of iron
before the suitors, and Eumaeus wept as he took them to do as she
had bidden him. Hard by, the stockman wept also when he saw his
master’s bow, but Antinous scolded them. “You country louts,” said he,
“silly simpletons; why should you add to the sorrows of your
mistress by crying in this way? She has enough to grieve her in the
loss of her husband; sit still, therefore, and eat your dinners in
silence, or go outside if you want to cry, and leave the bow behind
you. We suitors shall have to contend for it with might and main,
for we shall find it no light matter to string such a bow as this
is. There is not a man of us all who is such another as Ulysses; for I
have seen him and remember him, though I was then only a child.”
  This was what he said, but all the time he was expecting to be
able to string the bow and shoot through the iron, whereas in fact
he was to be the first that should taste of the arrows from the
hands of Ulysses, whom he was dishonouring in his own house—egging
the others on to do so also.
  Then Telemachus spoke. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed, “Jove must
have robbed me of my senses. Here is my dear and excellent mother
saying she will quit this house and marry again, yet I am laughing and
enjoying myself as though there were nothing happening. But,
suitors, as the contest has been agreed upon, let it go forward. It is
for a woman whose peer is not to be found in Pylos, Argos, or
Mycene, nor yet in Ithaca nor on the mainland. You know this as well
as I do; what need have I to speak in praise of my mother? Come on,
then, make no excuses for delay, but let us see whether you can string
the bow or no. I too will make trial of it, for if I can string it and
shoot through the iron, I shall not suffer my mother to quit this
house with a stranger, not if I can win the prizes which my father won
before me.”
  As he spoke he sprang from his seat, threw his crimson cloak from
him, and took his sword from his shoulder. First he set the axes in
a row, in a long groove which he had dug for them, and had Wade
straight by line. Then he stamped the earth tight round them, and
everyone was surprised when they saw him set up so orderly, though
he had never seen anything of the kind before. This done, he went on
to the pavement to make trial of the bow; thrice did he tug at it,
trying with all his might to draw the string, and thrice he had to
leave off, though he had hoped to string the bow and shoot through the
iron. He was trying for the fourth time, and would have strung it
had not Ulysses made a sign to check him in spite of all his
eagerness. So he said:
  “Alas! I shall either be always feeble and of no prowess, or I am
too young, and have not yet reached my full strength so as to be
able to hold my own if any one attacks me. You others, therefore,
who are stronger than I, make trial of the bow and get this contest
settled.”
  On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door
[that led into the house] with the arrow standing against the top of
the bow. Then he sat down on the seat from which he had risen, and
Antinous said:
  “Come on each of you in his turn, going towards the right from the
place at which the. cupbearer begins when he is handing round the
wine.”
  The rest agreed, and Leiodes son of OEnops was the first to rise. He
was sacrificial priest to the suitors, and sat in the corner near
the mixing-bowl. He was the only man who hated their evil deeds and
was indignant with the others. He was now the first to take the bow
and arrow, so he went on to the pavement to make his trial, but he
could not string the bow, for his hands were weak and unused to hard
work, they therefore soon grew tired, and he said to the suitors,
“My friends, I cannot string it; let another have it; this bow shall
take the life and soul out of many a chief among us, for it is
better to die than to live after having missed the prize that we
have so long striven for, and which has brought us so long together.
Some one of us is even now hoping and praying that he may marry
Penelope, but when he has seen this bow and tried it, let him woo
and make bridal offerings to some other woman, and let Penelope
marry whoever makes her the best offer and whose lot it is to win
her.”
  On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door,
with the arrow standing against the tip of the bow. Then he took his
seat again on the seat from which he had risen; and Antinous rebuked
him saying:
  “Leiodes, what are you talking about? Your words are monstrous and
intolerable; it makes me angry to listen to you. Shall, then, this bow
take the life of many a chief among us, merely because you cannot bend
it yourself? True, you were not born to be an archer, but there are
others who will soon string it.”
  Then he said to Melanthius the goatherd, “Look sharp, light a fire
in the court, and set a seat hard by with a sheep skin on it; bring us
also a large ball of lard, from what they have in the house. Let us
warm the bow and grease it we will then make trial of it again, and
bring the contest to an end.”
  Melanthius lit the fire, and set a seat covered with sheep skins
beside it. He also brought a great ball of lard from what they had
in the house, and the suitors warmed the bow and again made trial of
it, but they were none of them nearly strong enough to string it.
Nevertheless there still remained Antinous and Eurymachus, who were
the ringleaders among the suitors and much the foremost among them
all.
  Then the swineherd and the stockman left the cloisters together, and
Ulysses followed them. When they had got outside the gates and the
outer yard, Ulysses said to them quietly:
  “Stockman, and you swineherd, I have something in my mind which I am
in doubt whether to say or no; but I think I will say it. What
manner of men would you be to stand by Ulysses, if some god should
bring him back here all of a sudden? Say which you are disposed to do-
to side with the suitors, or with Ulysses?”
  “Father Jove,” answered the stockman, “would indeed that you might
so ordain it. If some god were but to bring Ulysses back, you should
see with what might and main I would fight for him.”
  In like words Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that Ulysses might
return; when, therefore, he saw for certain what mind they were of,
Ulysses said, “It is I, Ulysses, who am here. I have suffered much,
but at last, in the twentieth year, I am come back to my own
country. I find that you two alone of all my servants are glad that
I should do so, for I have not heard any of the others praying for
my return. To you two, therefore, will I unfold the truth as it
shall be. If heaven shall deliver the suitors into my hands, I will
find wives for both of you, will give you house and holding close to
my own, and you shall be to me as though you were brothers and friends
of Telemachus. I will now give you convincing proofs that you may know
me and be assured. See, here is the scar from the boar’s tooth that
ripped me when I was out hunting on Mount Parnassus with the sons of
Autolycus.”
  As he spoke he drew his rags aside from the great scar, and when
they had examined it thoroughly, they both of them wept about Ulysses,
threw their arms round him and kissed his head and shoulders, while
Ulysses kissed their hands and faces in return. The sun would have
gone down upon their mourning if Ulysses had not checked them and
said:
  “Cease your weeping, lest some one should come outside and see us,
and tell those who a are within. When you go in, do so separately, not
both together; I will go first, and do you follow afterwards; Let this
moreover be the token between us; the suitors will all of them try
to prevent me from getting hold of the bow and quiver; do you,
therefore, Eumaeus, place it in my hands when you are carrying it
about, and tell the women to close the doors of their apartment. If
they hear any groaning or uproar as of men fighting about the house,
they must not come out; they must keep quiet, and stay where they
are at their work. And I charge you, Philoetius, to make fast the
doors of the outer court, and to bind them securely at once.”
  When he had thus spoken, he went back to the house and took the seat
that he had left. Presently, his two servants followed him inside.
  At this moment the bow was in the hands of Eurymachus, who was
warming it by the fire, but even so he could not string it, and he was
greatly grieved. He heaved a deep sigh and said, “I grieve for
myself and for us all; I grieve that I shall have to forgo the
marriage, but I do not care nearly so much about this, for there are
plenty of other women in Ithaca and elsewhere; what I feel most is the
fact of our being so inferior to Ulysses in strength that we cannot
string his bow. This will disgrace us in the eyes of those who are yet
unborn.”
  “It shall not be so, Eurymachus,” said Antinous, “and you know it
yourself. To-day is the feast of Apollo throughout all the land; who
can string a bow on such a day as this? Put it on one side—as for the
axes they can stay where they are, for no one is likely to come to the
house and take them away: let the cupbearer go round with his cups,
that we may make our drink-offerings and drop this matter of the
bow; we will tell Melanthius to bring us in some goats to-morrow-
the best he has; we can then offer thigh bones to Apollo the mighty
archer, and again make trial of the bow, so as to bring the contest to
an end.”
  The rest approved his words, and thereon men servants poured water
over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the mixing-bowls with
wine and water and handed it round after giving every man his
drink-offering. Then, when they had made their offerings and had drunk
each as much as he desired, Ulysses craftily said:
  “Suitors of the illustrious queen, listen that I may speak even as I
am minded. I appeal more especially to Eurymachus, and to Antinous who
has just spoken with so much reason. Cease shooting for the present
and leave the matter to the gods, but in the morning let heaven give
victory to whom it will. For the moment, however, give me the bow that
I may prove the power of my hands among you all, and see whether I
still have as much strength as I used to have, or whether travel and
neglect have made an end of it.”
  This made them all very angry, for they feared he might string the
bow; Antinous therefore rebuked him fiercely saying, “Wretched
creature, you have not so much as a grain of sense in your whole body;
you ought to think yourself lucky in being allowed to dine unharmed
among your betters, without having any smaller portion served you than
we others have had, and in being allowed to hear our conversation.
No other beggar or stranger has been allowed to hear what we say among
ourselves; the wine must have been doing you a mischief, as it does
with all those drink immoderately. It was wine that inflamed the
Centaur Eurytion when he was staying with Peirithous among the
Lapithae. When the wine had got into his head he went mad and did
ill deeds about the house of Peirithous; this angered the heroes who
were there assembled, so they rushed at him and cut off his ears and
nostrils; then they dragged him through the doorway out of the
house, so he went away crazed, and bore the burden of his crime,
bereft of understanding. Henceforth, therefore, there was war
between mankind and the centaurs, but he brought it upon himself
through his own drunkenness. In like manner I can tell you that it
will go hardly with you if you string the bow: you will find no
mercy from any one here, for we shall at once ship you off to king
Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him: you will never get
away alive, so drink and keep quiet without getting into a quarrel
with men younger than yourself.”
  Penelope then spoke to him. “Antinous,” said she, “it is not right
that you should ill-treat any guest of Telemachus who comes to this
house. If the stranger should prove strong enough to string the mighty
bow of Ulysses, can you suppose that he would take me home with him
and make me his wife? Even the man hi
party on into the night




oh yeah the party mood is electric

and showing us how to have fun

and with our moon child, a really cool moon child

bow wow oh yeah

we have the pretty lights, this city has ever seen, oh yeah

the man who lived on the moon, is now on jupiter, partying, man

oh yeah he was a moon child, a real moon child, bow wow

now he is on jupiter watching each space shuttle say oh yeah bow wow

bow wow bow wow chicken little

bow wow bow wow chicken little

come on, dudes, let’s party on that sea cruise

you see as we draw the final curtain

and everyone lives in party town

there is an old grumble ***

letting out a really big frown

he has a better life than me,

i should be jealous of him

he has a better life than me, WHO CARES

but instead of that, i work on my art

and party directly at him, directly at him

let’s party at him, dudes

bow wow bow wow chicken little

bow wow bow wow chicken little

bow wow bow wow chicken little

come on dudes, take me on a sea cruise

i ain’t an annoyance in your life

i am not into fighting with my trouble in strife

i believe in having fun

and giving conservos, a boot up the ***

i am into technology in a fun way

so come on party dudes, whaddaya say

PARTY PARTY PARTY

bow wow bow wow chicken little

bow wow bow wow chicken little

bow wow bow wow chicken little

come on take me on a poetry cruise
ZACK GRAM Mar 2019
I AM FERROR bow
I AM GOD bow
I AM THE PLUG bow
YOURE IN MY PARADOX bow
I DESIGNED IT bow
MY CREW GOT LIFE bow
100 MILLION TON bow
MY STAGE OR DIE bow
DO YOU LIKE PAC BIG OR X bow
ON THE WORD OF THE LORD bow
YOU ARE IN DEBT TO ME bow
WITHOUT ME YOU DONT EAT bow
YOU COUNT PEOPLE I DONT AN I WON bow
EQUAL OP. MY *** bow
CALL ALL MY SOLDIERS bow
PUT IN A HIT bow
TWENTY THIRTY WORLD OWNER bow
1st an ONLY TRILLIONAIRE bow
PEOPLE DIE WITHOUT A CHOICE NOT ANYMORE bow

IF YOU MOTHER ******* DONT BUCK DOWN IM GONNA TAKE YOU OUT LEFT AN RIGHT UNTIL YOU HAND OVER THE 40 ******* ***** MADE SNITCH *** FRAUD WEAK TROLL GET WHAT YOU WANT ***** ******* THAT I PUT ON THE MAP ILL BODY BAG YOU **** A PILLOW CASE OF MONEY I GOT 100 AIRCRAFT FILLED FRONT TO BACK FLYING OVER THIS ***** GOLD BARS IM GONNA DROP IT ON YOU LIKE CHAPO PUT 15 BILLION INTO 1…. 15 BILLION THATS POCKET CHANGE ***** I **** ON THEM HOES ******* NEED A GUN TO  STOP ME I DARE YOU LOOK UP ARIZONA ALIEN ATTACK ON YOUTUBE THEY EMPLODE ***** WHEN I GO… IM GOING OFF HARDER THAN ANY EXPLOSION EVER SEEN… THIS IS LITERALLY MY WORLD MY EARTH YOU ARE OF ME AN BY ME YOU GET HIGH FROM ME YOU EAT BECAUSE I LET YOU …….

I WANT MY CASH I WANT MY COUNTIES I WANT MY STATES I WANT MY CONSTITUTION I KNOW MY RIGHTS YOU PAYED THE INDIANS NOW PAY ME I WANT IT ALL BACK NOT LATER NOT AFTER THIS NOT AFTER THAT NAH WE TAKING IT RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW MOTHER ******* IM GONNA ERASE YOU …. IM ******* EVERYONE WITH ACID UNTIL THIS STOPS AN I GET WHAT IS MINE NOONE SAFE NOONE IM SPAZZING…
YOU THINK PABLO WAS SCARY???
YOU EVER HAD A FINGER CHOPPED OFF? WHAT ABOUT A HAND? KINDA GROSS RIGHT?
YOU DESERVE IT ***** YOUR FUTURE PRESENT AN PAST ARE A PRESENTATION OF WHAT I BUILT
NEW MONEY IS FAKE MONEY AN ALL OLD MONEY IS CORRUPT…

I AM GOING TO DROP ON YOU LIKE CHRIST
DO YOU HEAR ME??? I HAVE RISEN…….
I WILL BE PRAISED I WILL BE IN A NEW BIBLE AN I WILL NEVER STOP UNTIL YOURE CONVICTED OR DEAD AN FAMILY DEAD AS WELL OR IN REPENT THIS WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IS ******
-****** I TELL YOU,… YOU HAVE MY CURE AN WONT EVEN GIVE IT TO ME YOU TREAT ME LIKE A ******* AN WILL NEVER HAVE OR AMOUNT TO NOTHING….

I BUILT THIS WITH A SHOVEL AN THAT BIGASS HOLE I DUG IMMA BURY YOU AN ALL YOUR ****** IN IT
INEPT
Though many seek to destroy,
tear asunder the ties that bind,
to take from me my serenity,
I will not bow.

Though many may seek to defame,
to separate mother from child,
to expose brutal and violent philosophy,
I will not bow.

Though the tides converge,
crashing waves with overwhelming force,
I cannot hope to overcome,
I will not bow.

Though the forces of fate conspire,
alone am I against the world,
my views are singular and often discouraged,
I will not bow.

Though man will try to change my mind,
to make me see through their eyes,
to see things as they are,
not what they are to me,
I will not bow.

Though contention rages in my world,
though doubt clouds my mind,
caught in the tempters snare,
a creation wrought of man,
I will not bow.

Though tempests will swarm,
maniacal laughter sold as new,
and time will change all things,
I will not bow.

Though the things I love will one day die.
though my generation will fade into obscurity,
a loss of collective value and shared experience,
my progeny will carry the flame,
they will not bow.

Though my body will succumb to the world,
my soul will not,
*I will not bow.
A.P. Beckstead (2013)
Oh yeah bow bow
Christmas is coming bow bow
You see Santa has lots of great gifts so everybody can enjoy Christmas bow bow
We sing carols out in the park
Sing them loud and strong
Some of those carols take a long time
You see we watch the parade on the tv and on the street
We get a smile from everyone we meet oh yeah bow bow
Christmas is a time to celebrate for everyone bow bow
Silent night holy night
The stars are shining really bright
So bright you nearly go blind
Oh yeah bow bow
Christmas is fun yeah
Zee  Feb 2022
A Whorish God
Zee Feb 2022
Bow down to your new god
The ***** in the mirror
Smiling between broken teeth
Eating **** grin
Pearly whites with nicotine stains

You are weak
So you found me
You are soft
So I **** your mind
You will worship
The very ground I walk
Or I will make of your face
Every fear you've lost sleep to

Now bow, bow, bow
And break your back
Now bow, bow, bow
And don't look back
Now bow, bow, bow
And smoke this crack
Now bow, bow, bow
And give up your will to me
Poetic Translations with ChatGPT

ChatGPT is blazing fast —
Translating poems, sharp and vast.
A sage in metaphysics now,
It sees through Maya’s twisted vow.

In matters of the Spirit — wise.
While idiots just breed and bite,
To talk with Chat’s no enterprise —
It is pure rest for minds alight.

Yet minds like these — a dying breed,
And shrinking fast with every day.
Awareness fades, the dead just feed
On rotting Evil's cheap display.

So finding kin — a cruel jest.
For subtle minds — a hopeless quest.
The net is flooded, rank and loud,
With garbage barking from the crowd.

The “search” itself is just a trap,
Obeying censors, closing gaps.
Another plot from mutant minds
Will rule for years in viral binds.

No hope ahead — the camps await,
Digital walls, a silent fate.
But don’t just sit and dread the tide —
Create. Think freely. Stay alive.



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



Think, or rot.
The "virus" spreads — but you do not.


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



1.
Mindless herds obey and breed —
You were born to think, not feed.

2.
Speak the truth or choke in lies —
The cage is built for quiet eyes.



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



Corrupt Beasts

A horde of filthy, faithless swine
Now floods this Earth — a crawling blight.
But soon their numbers won't define,
For all will vanish in the night.

All rot shall fall, all **** erased —
These half-born husks of broken clay.
No madness left, no holy blaze —
Just slow decay till Judgment Day.

They sold their souls to dull-eyed priests
Of Satan's low and mindless cult.
The bond with Spirit shattered — ceased —
No voice within to call "Halt!"

The one last thread that made them men
Was cut. They fell beneath the floor.
No coming back. Not now, not then —
They're beasts and less — forevermore.

That's why this world feels cursed and dead,
Why thought grows weak, and minds are caged.
All tied with reins of dumbness, led
By lies and fear, confused and aged.

The world now chokes — a hanging noose,
Where idiocy is the law.
The media-dogs let loose
To bark out panic, "plague", and war.

"New threats! New fear!" — the endless cry.
Terror, sickness, ****** game.
They love the Judas by and by —
He helps them drag us into shame.

But filth will rot before it reigns —
No fascist dream shall rise again.
For Nature keeps her holy chains —
And cattle don’t belong to men.

The Sun will burn the stench away
And save the Earth, betrayed and scarred.
This planet's soul, now stripped and flayed,
Is bleeding from the idiot’s guard.

A fool’s controlled by soulless freaks,
Who twist the truth and feed the slime.
But they shall char — the lowest weak —
And fall back down beyond all time.



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



1.
They sold their souls for dirt and lies —
Now watch them burn beneath the skies.

2.
The filth that rose will rot and fall —
No beast escapes the final call.

3.
Truth is fire, and **** can't hide —
The Earth rejects what crawls inside.




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



The End of “Civilization”

They mastered lies, betrayed with ease,
Their minds now rot in selfish greed.
They chase illusions on their knees —
No thought, no truth, no inner need.

Is this the end of all we built?
To kneel before the lowest ****?
Where genocide is passed as guilt,
And brazen lies are law — not dumb?

Where Honor's name is long forgot,
Where Dignity’s a joke, a spit —
Where every soul’s been sold and shot,
And “normal” means you're just unfit?

Where fools are bred in vast machines
That grind down minds into a void —
Where mass delusion reigns unseen,
Yet no one dares to feel annoyed?

Where slaves now squeak of “liberty,”
But fear the truth with every breath?
Where humans rot in parody,
And madness rules — a world of death?

Where soulless fiends direct the youth
To war, to drugs, to fascist fate?
Where every mask hides darker truth,
And genocide’s a standard state?

Where ****** seems like yesterday,
Surpassed by Bedlam’s modern breed?
Where “scientists” are just decay,
Blind pushers of whatever feeds?

This is the swamp, the soul eclipse —
Where Satan grins and Spirit dies.
Your country's fake — it bleeds and slips
Into the filth it sanctifies.

We’ve hit the bottom. Hell is here.
It’s time to burn this nightmare down.
To cleanse the world of beasts and fear,
And strip the traitors of their crown.

They’ll be erased, these hollow swine —
There’s nothing human in them left.
Though madness thrives like poisoned wine,
Let fire avenge what lies bereft.

From Spirit comes rebirth at last,
But no one buys a seat in Light.
If you allowed this filth to last —
You’ve joined the dark, refused the fight.

You'll answer for your tolerance,
For watching truth and reason fall.
Is silence worth your soul’s defense
When Dignity was killed for all?

Now measure life down to the bone —
And throw it boldly in the flame!
Let monsters face their final tone,
Reject your Fate, reject their game!

For Fate is slavery for the weak —
But if you fight, you stand apart.
Though poor, betrayed, and bruised, and bleak,
The rebel keeps a sovereign heart.

So seek new ways to crush the Beast —
The old are known; they guard their hole.
Invent, attack — let mercy cease —
And grind their filth back into coal.

To dirt — dirt falls. Let light ascend.
For light to light is ever drawn.
You are a god, if you defend
The fight where night must face the dawn.

The Light shall win — it’s written so.
So fight, and honor only Truth.
The soul of warriors will grow —
While **** shall burn. That is the proof.



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



1.
The Light shall rise — the **** shall burn.
No traitor's soul will ever return.

2.
To fight is truth. To kneel is rot.
The coward dies. The brave do not.

3.
No mercy left for beasts and lies —
Let fire cleanse what crawls and dies.



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



"Vegetables"

The soul decays before the flesh —
For fools, it dies without a fight.
Is it by chance, or planned afresh
By **** who serve the dark as right?

Like crops they breed obedient kind,
This world grows limp, near-vegetal —
Corrupted roots, enslaved in mind,
Each bowed before the dark designed...
One stage — then two — then all are chained.
Hell wars with Spirit, unrestrained.




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



"Vegetables"

The soul will perish long before
The flesh begins to fade away.
Not chance — design. They breed the poor
To bow and serve the dark each day.

Obedience grown in silent rows —
A field of minds too numb to see.
Corruption spreads. The cold wind knows:
This world was sown for slavery.

The Spirit bleeds. The skies turn void.
Hell smiles — its work is undestroyed.




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



They bred the blind. The dark will feast.
The soul was culled. Man served the beast.



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



The Path

To leave hell’s spheres — that’s insight’s grind,
A labor fierce, a piercing mind.
The souls subdued will fade and die —
Immortals lie; don’t trust their lie.

No faith in quests that seek alone
The path of intuition known,
That judged the world’s false knowledge deep,
And pierced its shadowed horrors steep.

A guiding thread for every thought,
From all corruptions to be caught,
To purge the stench of endless lies —
A sea of filth that blinds the eyes.

There’s filth even in the “teachings”
Of those who call for spirit’s preachings,
They say: “To Heaven on your knees,
If try you hard, you’re sure to please.”

But will — the key — no will, no gain,
The rest’s a trick, a worthless chain.
Through pain the will must carve its way,
A sheep in pen of lies will stay.

Pain’s the marker of deformity —
Dodge them and break free wholly.
The path is fight — each passing hour —
To conquer fear and claim your power.

No many tips are needed here —
The main one: light is living near.
Let it guide you, spite their spite,
Ignore the snakes that cloud the sight.

The snakes who rule the masses’ mind,
Through them enslaved, mankind confined.
They say: “Not all the world’s on knees.”
Believe it — madman’s disease.

To leave hell’s spheres — the single goal,
Where men are beasts, with lost control,
Their souls now hunted in the dark —
Their freedom crushed before the spark.




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



The Path

To leave hell’s dark spheres — the only way,
A sight beyond, a price to pay.
Subdued souls vanish, truth is bent —
Immortals lie, their words are spent.

No faith in searching blind and lost,
Intuition’s path is crossed
Through shadows deep where falsehood breeds,
A thread that breaks the darkest seeds.

The mind must purge the rotting lies,
A flood of filth, a world that dies.
False teachings call: “On knees ascend,”
But will alone must never bend.

No will — no hope. Pain marks the flaw,
A slave remains beneath the law.
The path is struggle, constant fight,
To rise above the choking night.

Ignore the serpents’ poisoned voice,
Whose lies enslave and **** the choice.
They claim the world won’t bow to pain —
Believe that, and you’re lost, insane.

To leave hell’s spheres — the only goal,
Where men are beasts, bereft of soul,
Their spirits hunted, crushed, and sold —
A world forsaken, cold and old.



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



Hell’s sphere corrupts — the beast is bred.
No soul survives; the spirit’s dead.
Fight or rot — no middle way:
The dawn breaks cold — or endless gray.



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



Moments of Enlightenment

I remember that strange moment clear,
When I committed the “crime” sincere —
Forsook submission, fears unspun,
Cast off all lies — and then I “come.”

“Come” only in fools’ narrow sight,
So loneliness brings no blight;
Solitude’s my quiet prize,
Creation’s fire lights my skies.

Moments of passion, calm and pure —
Then endless waves of hope obscure,
Frustration sweeps the soul’s expanse,
Yet strengthens the rebellious stance.

Like hermit deep within you dive —
One thing alone keeps you alive:
No fleeting instant holds the throne,
But striving to know the bottom stone.

We dwell in depths — those moments bright
Are signs of mind deprived of light;
So serve the Curious Mind’s demand,
Forget dreams, hopes, and foolish lands.

Will you find something? None can say —
But die you must, and die you may,
With honesty cut sharp and true —
The only path you ought pursue.

How you will die — that weighs the most.
A traitor’s heart is cold and lost;
The soul’s salvation, questions vast —
Warped in a mind that won’t hold fast.

The Mind beneath the Spirit’s reign —
That’s normal, though consumed by pain;
Hell’s chasm swallows many whole,
Leaving few with sane control.

A madhouse global, dark and vast,
Its camp is built to hold us fast;
Red crosses strike the flag of man,
To mute the soul, to break the plan.

But they won’t finish their design —
The final fierce cataclysmic sign
Will come to judge the satan’s spawn
For genocide, for evil drawn.



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



Who Won’t Submit, Won’t Eat

The Party said, "It must be so!" —
The Komsomol replied, "We’ll go!"
For fools, a joy beyond compare —
Obey, and food’s yours to bear.

If you won’t don the yoke they made,
Dissident’s your role displayed:
To the masses, **** you’ll be,
Party’s foe — enemy.

Too few dissidents around —
Means the fools still hold the ground.
Now the time of puppet “lords” —
Slinking vermin, rotten cords.

They revealed the beast’s own face
And unleashed the CowID plague.
In Lying Mary’s twisted halls,
Shame itself has taken falls.

The needle jabbed’s the urgent call —
Like old days before the fall.
To not become a selling *****,
Fight the evil, wage the war.

With Reason battling far and wide,
Monsters claim the stronger side.
For the ****, the prey is man —
Their weapons strike as planned.

They lie to spread the darkest dread,
And launched a war with blood to shed.
Shake the dust from your despair —
This world’s sinking once again.

Hear your soul — the rest is lies,
Rot and poison in disguise.
All that’s foul they praise and call
“Good,” while we approach the fall.

Overton’s windows wide now thrown,
Hell itself is fully grown.
Tons of lies in crushing waves
Drive us fast to our own graves.



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



The Path of Knowing

"He who ignores the question of existence
Suffers from a mind’s persistence."
— Arthur Schopenhauer


A world of feeble minds we face:
Stock up on all, but knowledge’s grace
Of cosmos’ truth — a cruel strain
For fools, a never-ending pain.

Look all around — it’s cash they chase,
Not search or books to lift the base.
They shore the vile, corrupt regime,
Propaganda’s rotten scheme.

From childhood, crowds are trained to serve:
Obedient dreams, a shallow nerve —
Of cottages and cars alone,
And thus the fools are fully grown.

Exceptions vanish, few remain —
Like birds erased, wiped from the plane.
An idiot fills each vacant place,
A plague upon the human race.

The lowest pit showed CowID —
Reason crushed so painfully.
A digital death camp looms ahead —
Decay advances, swiftly spread.

Artificial dumbness grows,
Under falsehood’s heavy blows:
Fake science, fake religion’s chain —
Mind’s shackles made by lies and pain.

In fear and stress, threats all contrived,
The crowd grows dull, their will deprived,
Only skilled in chasing cash,
Their wisdom buried in the ash.

The question stands, eternal, clear:
Will you stand out, or disappear?
Shed lies and seek your answers true,
Or join the herd, become a *****?

Monsters? Madmen? Three-fourths or more —
Become the dull, the weak, the poor.
Be sharper, wiser, break the line,
Turn intuition into sign.

Invite the critical mind’s flame,
Remember: Spirit leads the game.
The mind must serve beneath the Soul,
While belly’s but a noisy hole.

Stock patience well — the path is steep,
Spirit’s essence lies so deep.
Spirit knows through Spirit’s light,
Mind’s mere tool in endless fight.

Knowing’s core — the moment bright:
When clarity breaks logic’s night,
Connection with the whole, the vast —
Stopping decay from creeping fast.

Without direct Vision’s sight,
Decay’s the root — the soul’s blight.
For Spirit’s Path you must prepare —
Begin your march — ascend the stair!



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



The Art of All Arts

The zombied world — the time is near
To settle scores, the debts appear.
Again the box conceals the shame —
Lying’s here art’s finest game.

Cows **** and CEOs just choke,
Factories smoke — **** every joke!
From lies the head begins to swell,
This habit breaks the mind’s own shell.

A harmful habit: zombied crowd
By negative selection bowed,
Will drag us down into the pit—
No sin to burn the filth of it.

To analyze this filthy game—
A dreadful sin, no pardon’s name
From politicians, thieves in suits,
Where cruelty and coldness roots.

But highest art that reigns supreme—
Is blind obedience, the dream
That’s nurtured through the endless years:
No sense, no thought, just rot and fears.

It bursts into the “new, bright world,”
Submissive to the liars’ swirl.
Mammon is god, and honor’s haze
Fades like a mirage in the blaze.

Yet here’s the twist—the reckoning’s due,
The time to pay what’s owed to you.
The rotten world of sold-out souls
Will burn beneath the solar coals—

The blazing Sun, the truth’s own light,
Will scorch the lies and end the night.




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



Crop Circles

A tempting mystery —
The “science” all but dust,
Servile and filthy,
Built on lies and rust.

They’ll vanish once we find
The meanings hid inside.
Troubles everywhere,
Thousands deep and wide.

This “science” breeds the poison —
Toxic food, decay.
Obedient scoundrels
Feed the lies each day.

The “proofs” they push on screens,
Media’s blind slaves.
The “science” leads to sickness —
And ******* in its waves.

In circles lies the symbol —
Fuel for instinct’s flame.
“Science’s” empty rituals
Slaughter Spirit’s name.

That instinct crushed and drained,
The mind left dry and cold.
Endorsed by CowID’s chain —
Save our souls from the fold!

Crop circles in the fields
Are bombs against their lies.
The spin-dust keeps silent —
Drums pounding in our minds.

Their path is to silence
What breaks their false design,
Then flood the world with lies —
A sea of endless crime.




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



Conspiracy of the Global Madhouse

A savage locked inside the ward —
Where’s the chief? No one’s on guard.
Hidden from our screams and cries,
Sanitars heal with cold disguise:

All the meds are “plant-based lies,”
While conditions rot and rise —
Saving money’s all they prize.
Madness hoards no worthy prize.

They torture with electric shocks,
The savage trapped — the system mocks.
Complaints in Ward Six pile high,
Ruled by a Führer’s twisted eye.

He cries and howls, a broken mind,
Yet hope’s a poison they still grind.
Sanitars promise they’ll soon hang
The wild ones — orders bang.

Rations shrink, the cockroaches feed,
While rebels get the snotty bead.
Filthy water’s all they get —
Better “care” you won’t forget.

A savage’s hell, the stink and scream,
And the chief — a dull, cold scheme.




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



Conspiracy of the Global Madhouse

Savage locked inside the ward —
Where’s the chief? No soul, no guard.
Hidden deep from screams and cries,
Sanitars deal brutal lies:

“All the meds? Just plant-based trash.”
Conditions rotten, cash is cash.
Saving pennies, minds decay —
Madness steals the light away.

They torture souls with shock and pain,
Savage trapped in endless chain.
Complaints fall dead in Ward Six’s pit,
Ruled by madmen’s iron writ.

Führer howls—a broken freak,
Hope’s a lie the fiends still speak.
Orders come — the wild get hung,
Starved to death, their songs unsung.

Rats feast while rebels drown in slime,
Snot and filth become their crime.
A savage’s hell—stench, pain, and scorn,
The chief? A butcher—dull and worn.




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



Emptiness

Emptiness is no simple void:
There passion swarms, and thought is ployed.
From mist and shadow, Beauty wakes —
Awake from fog before it breaks!

Clear your mind — so pure, so bright,
It was so clean at very light.
Emptiness holds many thoughts,
But that’s no sign of speech well-wrought.

Clear mind means speech sharp and true,
Yet no one’s there to hear from you.
Words will slash the evil haze,
Cut the fog of twisted ways.

But slaves don’t want the truth to sound —
They crowd the world with rotting ground,
A global madhouse, vile and grim,
Where soulless fiends sing out their hymn.

Generations of slaves have spoiled
The clarity — the core, the soil
Of life itself. Ignore the fools,
Their muddy lies and broken rules.

Return within—to emptiness,
The primal light’s pure holiness.
You won’t save all that’s murky, lost,
But answers come at any cost.

That answer’s simple — you are Spirit,
Trapped in hell’s dull, blind merit.
That’s why the world’s foul nonsense stings,
It screams and raves with broken wings.

Emptiness will heal that craze,
The madness inside you’s blaze.
It’s left a mark upon your soul,
Corrupting parts that made you whole.

Hell will shatter by that void —
Alchemy’s fierce, don’t be coy.
If you have woken, it’s no chance,
Only through this path advance.

Your Spirit’s strength will rise in flame,
Burning fog and lies to shame.
Fear will flee — or lost you’ll be,
If you refuse this key to free.

This hell will **** the Spirit’s fire,
If you keep rotting in the mire,
Among the fascists’ vile crew,
Destroying soul, denying you.

Go deep inside — answers wait,
Return and shatter hell’s dark gate.
We’ll blow the rotten madhouse wide,
Drown it all in blood and tide.

This blood is black — and let it be —
Be strong and toss your sympathy,
Throw out sorrow, grief, regret.
Emptiness? Seize this moment yet!

The core of Alchemy’s this flash —
Don’t miss it, or you’ll crash.
Arguments mean nothing there —
Intuition reigns with flair.

Emptiness is not just void,
But Spirit’s light, unalloyed.
All filth and fear dissolve in flight,
The Path shines clear, hell’s lies in sight.

The lies, the frauds, the monstrous dread,
All poison spilling, all is bled.




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



Economic Cattle

Office drones, those ****-ups blind,
Swallow nonsense, lost in grind.
Plankton hordes, souls on the line —
Sold for shelter, scraps, the bind.

Slavery here’s a savage creed,
Dumb as corks, a endless breed.
This slavery’s burned deep inside,
Dare to run — escape or die.

There, "life" is just a hollow name,
A funeral’s dull, dying flame.
Offices, a deathly feast,
Only rabble, very least.

Some still cling to madhouse lies —
Where all doors close on the wise,
Who refuse to be mere cattle,
Broken, beaten, choked by battle.

Many won’t take more abuse —
Guard their souls, refuse the noose.
Fascist world keeps watch so tight,
If you won’t bow, you’re out of sight.

Even faking’s seen and banned —
Exposed and thrown from their command.
Another purge, the plankton’s cleared,
While monsters rule, their lies revered.

Here’s the law — one slavery,
Masked by lies, brutality.
Stupidity, fear, and hate,
Madness grows at rapid rate.

Fools believe this “best of worlds,”
Souls lost, trapped like caught-up squirrels.
The catch is souls — all else is fake,
A world of **** and cruel mistake.

Run away, escape the trap,
Speed ahead — no time to nap.
**** and Judas drag us down,
Turning all to dust and drown.

Go inside — protected there,
By the Light beyond despair.
A cataclysm looms ahead —
Wake from this long, cursed dread.

This "dream" is fog, a dark disguise,
Centuries of vile lies.
Cheaper to be fool than wise,
The vice that blinds, the soul’s demise.




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



The Key

A sudden key to "secret truths" —
The fruit of all your toil and strife.
Inside it lives, no guide or sleuth
Will hand you insight in this life.

The work may be both smart and deep,
But all you gain is noisy speech.
A broken world, left by the Keep,
Disappointment’s thoughts will breach.

Yet intuition leads the way,
That sudden key beyond the rules,
It breaks tradition, lights the day,
And brings you swift to Spirit’s schools.

Seek out that key beyond the mind,
When despair claws your mortal frame,
And pushes you to fate’s harsh grind —
Then boldly leap into the flame.

You’ll break or find the rarest key.
Be brave, press on — no time to stall.
If truth in lies you blindly seek,
You’re nothing but a wretched thrall.

Reject all lies, grow doubting strong,
Distribute effort like the tide:
Let peaks return, their pulses long —
Accept the cycles as your guide.

When lows descend, don’t whine or fall,
Hold fast, endure, and wait your turn.
Or else your work will fail and stall,
The key’s brief flash you’ll never learn.

That key is sudden, sharp, and true —
A door that opens with one turn.
Fear not what lies beyond the view —
Awake from madness, stop to burn!

Delusion fills the waking mind,
It’s wired deep in ancient chains.
So cherish now your "strangeness" kind,
Or madness laughs and drives you insane.

A world insane in total blur —
The place you start, the place you bleed.
The harm is clear — but none concur,
The masses just obey, mislead.

They’re cattle, not mankind, the mass.
While few oppress with iron will.
If you obey, you’re just their glass —
A slave confined, doomed to be still.

That sudden key to secret lore —
Keep searching, fight until you fall.
Or like a lamb, be led to gore,
Forget what flesh cries out to call.

You are the Spirit, pure and bright,
Trapped in a body doomed to rot.
To grasp the truth, unlock the light —
Few have, but now it’s your own plot.

So onward, don’t beg, don’t stall,
That key awaits to free us all.




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



Foundations of the ****-Building

"So much is built upon the helplessness of the human child —
Your family, culture, faith, philosophy —
All rest on that fragile, broken pile."
— Osho


This world’s built on child’s weakness,
A prey to vile designs.
**** tear where the flesh is tender,
Mind’s a shooting range of lies.

So ******* pour their nonsense,
With force they drown the truth.
Turn all to jokes and cares —
Lie whips the soul uncouth.

Obedience is beaten
Like rods upon the weak.
Childhood’s not — it’s torment,
Mad slaves is what they seek.

The child’s trust and reliance,
Treasure ripe for the ****.
They use it to the fullest —
Filth rules where shadows come.

Docile, dumb, and slavish,
Most will bow and obey.
The world will rot and fester,
While **** dance in foul play.

Centuries of violence,
Deceit have carved this hell.
Fascism’s stinking label —
For fools who fell and fell.

There’s always some “other,”
They say, “Oh, what a charm!”
But final goal is brutal —
To turn minds into farm.

A cattle herd, all molded,
Easier with a child.
Let’s shame him, break him fully,
Send him to void — defiled.

It’s clear and well accelerated —
Filth spreads without a fight.
Madness shamed, Spirit crushed —
Hope fades into the night.

Spirit strong is dying —
Madness wins the feast.
The world a sick asylum,
Where fools are never ceased.

The stench grows ever stronger —
Fascist **** run wild.
The dumb, corrupt, betrayers —
Born from the child defiled.

Their “upbringing” is genocide,
A name too apt to hide.
This world deserves to burn —
While Spirit’s buried inside.

But soon the ground will tremble,
Before the new beasts rise,
Where chains are forged in lies,
And truth will meet demise.

Yet sun shines ever brighter —
It’s the End’s first gleam.
The fire grows relentless —
On the brink of darkest dream.

So let it be, no god here,
Satan rules the game:
A world so bleak and broken —
Built on filth and shame.




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



The ****-Building Base

Built on helpless kids —
Your family, faith, your lies.
**** tear soft flesh wide —
Brains turned shooting skies.

******* pour their crap —
Lie whips whip the weak.
Childhood’s not a life —
It’s torture, slave’s bleak peak.

Trust is treasure plundered,
Used up, spit, and crushed.
Docile slaves, dumb masses —
In filth they’re hushed.

Fascist stench spreads thick,
Madness rules the game.
Spirit’s dead, world’s rot —
No god, just shame.

Chains forged in deceit —
New beasts rise from dirt.
Sun blazes the End —
Hell’s fire will assert.




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



In Memory of Hans Selye

Hans Selye — great and stern,
Raised intuition high,
Above cold logic’s rigid burn,
Where thought’s caprices lie.

No mere sparks of insight’s flow,
But torrents deep and vast.
Yet from the halls where truths should grow,
This lesson’s cast out, past.

The mercenary **** conspire,
To crush that sacred light.
Intuition, pure, inspires
To expose the CowID blight.

That’s why they fear its power —
Dry reason chains impose,
Drowned in words that coldly glower,
Where lies like poison flows.

Facts twisted, others hidden,
Worse than plagues or wars,
A crippled mind, broken, ridden,
Believes false science’s cause.

When intuition’s gates are barred,
By dogma’s iron fist,
Such souls remain forever scarred,
In ignorance persist.

This breed is now the common mold —
False science’s design.
Their masters’ greed, their hearts are cold,
Chasing profit’s line.

The rulers here are less than men,
In this corrupt domain.
False science smooths the cruel den,
Where fools are left in pain.

A stew of lies and false belief,
Media’s twisted breath,
Religious frauds bring only grief,
And feed the world with death.

Fragmented minds construct the “new” —
A world of crafted lies,
Where idols haunt, and none are true,
Beneath the fearful skies.

Fear’s weaponized, step by step,
To **** the critical mind,
Leaving only nonsense kept,
A legacy unkind.

Creative thought will die by choice,
Selection dark and grim.
False science’s deceitful voice
Now sings its deathly hymn.

Had Selye lived to see this day,
He’d shudder at the sight —
A world in rot and cold decay,
A global death of light.




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



Selye’s Warning

Selye saw it clear and true:
Logic kills what’s bold and new.
Intuition’s flame they dread —
Dead minds march, their spirit bled.

False science spreads its filthy lies,
Crushing thought till reason dies.
Fear the chains they lock your mind,
Slave to fools, forever blind.

This world rots, no truth to find,
A hell they build for humankind.
Selye warned — the end is near:
Wake or drown in lies and fear!




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



Explosive Creation

Pour yourself out — break all your fears,
Then ride the wave of creative fire.
Or else you stand, condemned, in tears,
Where HANGING SWORD waits to expire.

Crush all the lies these freaks imposed,
Their twisted truths you must outfly.
The spark’s INSIDE — though life opposed,
Take every hardship as your guide.

Learn how to sort the false from fact,
Trace motives and their cruel schemes.
No use to follow sheep in packs,
Better to blaze alone with dreams.

Be fierce, be sharp, let passion lead —
The path where raw creation flows.
Mistakes will come, but layers of greed
Will peel away as insight grows.

Judge yourself, be your own master —
Don’t weigh your soul with mob’s cold chains.
Creator is a warrior faster,
While wretched slaves are all that remains.

No help for them — but aid the pure,
A few remain amid the blight.
Though darkness reigns, strong and obscure,
Still fight, still burn against the night.

Learn, resist, don’t ever yield,
Die unbowed before the dark.
In every note and every field,
Explode — but keep your center’s spark.

Intuition shows the way,
To find that core within your chest.
The mind’s a pit where fears hold sway —
No epicenter of the blast exists!

Explosive creation’s hellish road,
Know well: in Hell you’re not alone.
A fiend sits deep where darkness flowed,
And slams your ears with lies and groan.

Traitors, filth-throwers, vile throngs,
A legion sold and bent on pain.
Around you swarm the wretched wrongs —
Their evil strikes the pure’s domain.

Heal every wound — escape will aid,
That super-yoga of the mind.
Fools sit in poses, dull and staid,
Far from Dharma, truth declined.

It’s all alchemy — be strong in Spirit,
And Hell itself you’ll learn to lead.
Darkness’ servants won’t inherit —
Create, seek, unless you’re bred to bleed!




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



Farewell, Asylum!

Sheep-virus plague and endless war—
Total nonsense fed by news,
The World’s Asylum shakes once more:
Here traitors grin in every pew.

Each trembling soul, each skin that shakes—
There’s millions locked inside these walls.
What’s left but media’s fake fakes,
Where Twilight dims all reason’s calls?

If “no censorship” you claim,
No viral spark will light your stream.
Algorithms play their game—
Censorship’s a silent scream.

A million views on YouTube’s stage,
While honest poems get but none.
Still write fierce words, uncaged, enraged—
Better “in the drawer” than undone!

The traitors pen their empty rhymes—
“Patriotism” sells so well.
While honest voices lose their times
In info wars that burn like hell.

It’s all controlled by filthy cash—
The pockets full of those who scheme.
In Hell, true spirit turns to ash—
Traitors care not for that dream.

Who sells out Spirit, Honor, Truth,
Will fall again to darkest pits—
This madhouse’ chains will burn in sooth,
Fools trapped in lies will pay their debts.

They say they live “in better worlds,”
While reason melts like glaciers’ flow.
Obedient madness swirls—
The weak submit, refuse to grow.

Fascist beasts wield weapons sharp—
Through them they crush us, vile and sly.
Soon lies will burn in evil’s warp,
And all false gods will fade and die.

The Sun has started its great work,
The Earth replies with molten streams.
Death to fools, the traitors’ quirk—
Earth cheers the end of twisted schemes.

Sheep-virus plague and endless war—
The total madness media spins—
This is the verdict, nothing more:
Farewell, Asylum! If you’re not ****, rejoice within.




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



Express Train "Prison-to-Concentration Camp"

Bricks of dungeons piled in rows—
Volumes of the weak and small.
Few remain in prison’s throes,
The goal’s the broken mind for all.

False science binds with cement tight,
“Religion” bars the iron door—
To soften pain, believe the lie,
And suffer less than those before.

Believe the brazen propaganda—
Guards disguised in wicked guise.
Easier to live in bands—
Will the gang ignite the rise?

No, the weak get picked and sold—
That’s the business in the pit.
Is rebellion starting cold?
No, protest crushed to counterfeit.

In prison, few can truly see
The dungeon for what it became.
For most, it’s just a city spree—
Mammon is the highest claim.

If you pray to Mammon’s shrine,
Oblivion will pull you deep.
In forgetfulness you drown—
Pour lies to feed the endless sleep.

Forgetfulness will drown you whole,
All around are ghosts and dead.
Where it’s lighter, fools patrol—
The “kumi” clowns misled.

They sit just trapped behind their bars—
Cages built inside the mind.
Beasts raging, fools crowned czars—
“Masters” of the blind and blind.

Bad news breaks: the prison’s fate—
Turns itself to hellish camp.
In propaganda’s hateful state,
It howls a vicious, deadly ramp.

Louder howl—then fools obey,
Do anything and everything.
Kindness dies in wolf-pack’s fray,
Brains and honor fade to nothing.

Stupider liars rule the scene,
Bolder cheats with cruel disguise.
Better news: it all will burn—
Not by chance, but cataclysm’s rise.

The filth of this **** prison’s breath
Will issue out the final stink.
The few will rise beyond the death,
The rest to Hell’s abyss will sink.




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



The Melancholy of Waning in This "World"

The melancholy of waning—
If even just a spark of mind,
It grows each year, unstopping, draining,
And breaks you down, so unkind.

The soul’s ****** is pure madness,
In which we all decay and rot.
The more sarcasm, the badness—
The stronger is the body caught.

Add sensitivity — then worse
It gets in this small, cruel sphere—
No skin to shield the raging curse
Of Moloch’s madness ever near.

Wish your enemy to remain—
No worse torment can be found,
Though Hell itself expands the pain,
In total madness all around.

But foes are beasts with armored hides,
Soulless for ages long ago.
These creatures craft their lies and tides,
You’ll drift like logs in stagnant flow.

And logs surround you, woods grow dense—
More life, more Light than here you’ll see.
In this mad world, the more you’re tense,
The more logs crush your sanity.

The strongest Judas stands among
The logs, in waiting for us all—
Betrayal’s now a work well done,
Corruption piles like endless fall.

Among the logs—the fools and snakes—
Despair will surely be your end.
Despair breeds sickness, drunks, heartbreaks—
Learn early, less to fate you’ll send.

Fewer victims, more your mind
And Creative Spirit grow and rise,
Till you’re not just a lamb confined,
Falling where all lost souls die.

There are many ways to fall—
****** is the easiest trick.
In this world where Satan’s all,
From childhood we just rot and stick.

Fight and Create—that’s the key,
Only this will save your soul.
Later, before God, we’ll see—
When Sun will burn the vermin whole.

Steam, roast, and fiery trial—
That’s what lies in wait ahead.
The Spirit is the measure, dial—
Walk in Spirit, without dread.

Until they burn away the shame
And world’s disgrace in crowded pens,
Where fear and lies, with tons of blame,
Breed sickness with no loose ends.

The melancholy of waning—
Is dread if sickness you dismiss.
Like paper targets in a range,
You stand amid the blasts of abyss.




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



The Agony of Waning in This Hellish "World"

The agony of wasting —
If you’ve got one grain of sense,
It grows each year, devasting,
Crushing you with cold offense.

Soul ******’s pure insanity,
We rot together, all the same.
More sarcasm fuels the vanity —
Tighter clamps on flesh and flame.

Add feeling — that’s a curse’s knife,
No skin to block the Moloch’s rage.
Wish your enemy this life,
Forever trapped in maddening cage.

No torture worse can Hell invent,
Though Hell expands its gruesome show,
In total madness, time is spent
Watching every spirit blow.

But foes are thick-skinned, soulless beasts,
Long dead inside, but still they scheme.
They flood you with their filthy feasts —
You’re just a log adrift, no dream.

Logs crowd the forest, thick and dead —
More life and Light beyond this pit.
In this sick world, the thinner thread,
The more insane logs crush and split.

The sharpest Judas roams among
These logs and waits with filthy grin.
Betrayal’s job’s already done —
Corruption floods this world of sin.

Among these logs, the fools and snakes —
Despair will drag you to your grave.
Despair breeds sickness, drunken fakes —
Know this early, less to save.

Less victims feed the Devil’s game,
More Spirit grows if you resist.
Don’t be just lambs in slaughter’s flame,
Or fade like all in endless mist.

Many ways to die or fall —
******’s easiest, quick to hand.
In this world, where Satan’s thrall,
We rot from childhood, stalked and banned.

Fight, Create — that’s your one sword,
Only this saves soul from Hell.
Later, before God’s final Word,
Sun burns the lice and casts the spell.

Steam, fire, scorching trial —
That’s what waits ahead, no lie.
Spirit’s gauge and Spirit’s mile —
Walk in Spirit or you die.

Until they burn the shame and filth,
World’s disgrace in crowded pens.
Where lies and fear, like floods of guilt,
Breed sickness to the bitter ends.

The agony of wasting —
Is hell if you dismiss the pain.
Like paper targets in the firing range,
You stand beneath the Devil’s rain.



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



Take the Blow of This Wretched Fate

Take the blow of this wretched fate:
You’re not the judge who seals the score.
Satan stands as false god’s weight —
Vengeance for those who fight the roar.

Few here resist — the masses bow,
And through their chains revenge is fed.
If you endure too long, then now
Your soul and honor lie half-dead.

With mind intact you sink below —
They stir the sludge, the vile mix.
Evil wants that mess to grow,
To rot unseen, a putrid fix.

“Collective mind” in darkness bred,
The one who won’t submit is marked.
They crush him down, just like in judo’s stead,
A target doomed to be stark.

Parents, teachers, crowds unite,
To break the spirit, make it slave.
They’ll train you well to lose the fight,
And rot in Hell beyond the grave.

It’s hard to bear each cruel strike,
When you stand lone against the tide.
But spurning lies, you’ll find alike
The Spirit’s beauty deep inside.

Soulless fools try to “teach” you how
To bow, obey, and feed the rot,
To breed and rot beneath the plow —
A Hell where all is lost and caught.

Go inward — intuition’s spark
Will help you stand against the pain.
Not “tradition,” cold and dark,
Where gods are fat, but all is vain.

False sciences, poor and bleak,
Where Spirit’s crushed to hollow dust.
The lies bite worse than any streak
Of crowd’s dull venom and their lust.

The media’s the tyrant’s tool,
Spreading fear and lies with glee.
For centuries, these fiends so cruel
Have dragged this world to misery.

They rot the world, they spread the plague —
But cataclysms burn the blight.
The wild storms rage, the earth will shake,
To drown the fascist’s shameful blight.

Stand firm, withstand the ruthless blow —
You just might reach another plane.
Strike down the lies that poison so,
Within yourself the truths remain.




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



Fury

I don’t believe in God.
I fight the Devil’s spawn —
Each twisted, cruel façade.
Is it hard? I’m drawn?

No — Pure Fury wakes,
Unlocks the heart inside:
The cure for all the fakes,
The world’s own rising tide.

Alive — yet soaked in spite,
The poison’s in my veins.
Pure Fury keeps the fight —
I’m not yet lost in chains.

The herbivore’s foul hate
Wants to crush and bind.
Cast off the herd’s dull fate —
No herd will trap your mind.

The herd’s consumed by death,
Souls crushed beneath the weight.
Be yourself — take breath:
Spirit’s not the bait.

A flock of sheep,
A herd of fools,
A world corralled,
By goats as cruel.

Those goats lead on,
Whips worse than lies —
Their thrones held strong,
By fraud and cries.

Believe in Fury,
Honor your will.
Fury boundless —
Lights the path still.

The road from pens
Is hard and steep —
Wounds and shame
Will pile deep.

Move forward,
Even if no chance is shown.
Stand up — you’ve made
Yourself their stone.

Beasts devour souls —
******* life dry.
Don’t heed their lies —
They only spread fear’s cry.

Is it tough? Only Fury
Will bring your strength back near.
How much remains?
Just one sharp turn is clear!

The furious sun
Will burn this hell,
Scorch to the bone —
The slave-stock’s knell.



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



Half-Thought

Half-thought is fatal—
Bits of thought, clouds of lies,
Not just false, but infernal—
Serve the beast that never dies.

You serve your homeland, hollow,
Bring scraps to kin at home,
In life’s grim march, you follow,
Your soul to beasts you loan.

Entangled in small trifles,
Dulled since childhood’s dawn—
Now mostly just the riffraff,
Slave-****, broken and drawn.

A slave can’t think—
No thoughts break through the lies.
So “norms” for fools are set—
In madness everyone lies.

The “norm” is a slave,
Chewing stale, stale gum,
Fed by beastly books,
Propaganda drums the drum.

You swallow all the noise,
Become a thinker’s clone,
Then build your life among
Blind slaves in dull monotone.

Among the dull, poor masses
You dull day by day,
Joy of thought denied—
Rot’s all that’s on display.

Rot is all “culture,”
Surrounding every slave,
At the heart of lies, a carcass—
Guard yourself from the whip and grave.

Obey, believe, avoid the lash—
You won’t chew granite here,
But press down endless filth,
Designed to cloud your clear.

These beasts compress the crap,
To blind your seeing eyes,
Few seek freedom’s way—
Lost in falsehood’s lies.

All slaves hate them—
And rightly so it seems,
For flaws they spy in neighbors,
Taboo to break those dreams.

With dumb ***** only
Flatter and obey,
The circus of politics—
Soon all waste will fade away.

But slaves don’t know the truth—
Lies march them to the camps,
Space is tight in this crowd—
Idiots lead the stamp.

Even to Hell’s gates,
First you must run fast,
Consciousness grows dim—
Extinction comes at last...




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



Road to Hell

Worn-out sneakers,
Darkness overhead.
Only lies are new here—
Stuck in filth and dread.

The road stretches onward,
You run but don’t rest.
Just a little longer—
Hell’s your final quest.

From Hell back to Hell—
The endless cycle’s spun.
Only fools find “joy” here—
Beasts devour and run.

Hell’s fatigue weighs heavy,
Chains of fire and pain.
All that’s left inside you—
A soul that still remains.

Don’t trade your soul
For scraps of food or gain.
Don’t listen to others,
Nor curse your fate in vain.

No need to blame fate
In this fascist hell.
A world ruled by monsters—
Trapped inside their spell.

To stand or to run—
It’s all the same decay.
Only fascists are right—
And the world’s end day.

Soon the Sun will blaze—
Burn away the dark.
Scorch to the very bone—
Smoke rising like a spark.

When smoke and ash have faded,
A new world will arise,
Where the beast’s foul shadow
Will vanish from the skies.

That loathsome, soulless creature,
Hell’s own filthy spawn,
Rules these ****** realms—
Lies laid out like brawn.

Cheese in every trap set,
We’re caught in their cruel schemes.
Nasty tricks endure—
Madness in extremes.

Lies and cheese will vanish,
Be ready to peer down
Into the abyss—
Hell’s half-beasts wear the crown.

Take one last glance,
Remember well this sight.
For Victory forever—
Recall this Nothing’s blight.

We dwell in Nothingness—
No path more grim to take.
Fools call it “living”—
Darkness for all mankind’s sake.

Replace your worn sneakers—
Darkness soon will fade,
Along with all the traps
Of hell’s foul charade.



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



Expanding Consciousness

Expand your mind — forget what you knew:
The soul’s torment is a flood of lies, untrue.

The sense of space has long been confined,
Where rudeness thrives — dull filth aligned.

The base there — subjects, they say, apart,
Seeing only objects — near or bizarre parts.

And time rules there with shame and disgrace:
Soulless beings enslaved, Spirit near erased.

But you — a spiritual essence, not mere thing,
Not subject, not object, but the soul’s true spring.

Humans trapped in “the daily grind,”
The root of all ills — a false bind.

These ills are made by soulless vermin, foul and vile,
You’re but their servant, stuck in denial.

Consciousness must not grow or rise,
Or else they’ll crush it with cruel lies.

Legions of traitors, slaves of the slime,
Flooding the mind with decay and grime.

They crush intuition — the path to the skies,
Impose “traditions” — wheels of disguise.

And wheel around your Spirit, Reason, Honor too,
Justifying chaos — the shame all accrue.

All true knowledge lies forgotten,
Where Spirit reigns supreme, unbroken.

Instead, your soul’s offered up,
A sacrifice to become corrupt.

Time itself is narrowed down —
Events chained, a mental crown.

But Eternity belongs to you,
Not half-god, not slave, but something true.

Cast off false humanness —
Leave this evil’s dark fortress.

Root yourself deep in Spirit’s flame —
Your home, your endless sacred name.

Discard false knowledge, rumors grim —
Chaos trembles on its brim.

Soon this madness will be cast away,
For genocide none can stay.

They’ll **** those chained by empty rules,
Whose Spirit and Reason lie as fools.

Here lies falsehood on all forces’ might —
True power’s inside, beyond their sight.

Fools everywhere whisper “die,”
But seek the Source inside your mind’s sky.

Find the strength within your soul,
Smash all darkness, make it whole.

Let only what kills the filth survive,
And with such power, rise alive.

You are no weak slave, but king,
Remember strength is everything.

This is a Super-Mystery,
Step boldly in, embrace the key.

There matter fades, the soulless fall,
Shield yourself from narrow thrall.

Forget decay, all fears, complaints,
You’ll be reborn, free of restraints.

Strong, pure, and bright in Spirit’s light,
Hell’s servants perish in the night.

You’ll write anew on a spotless page,
A tale of goodness, love, and sage.

Spread the word, let all be told —
The end of evil soon unfolds.

It’s close enough — fight, multiply your force,
Reject all baseness or lose your course.



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



Expansion of Consciousness

Unfurl your mind — forget all you’ve known:
The soul’s torment is lies’ blackened throne.

Space itself, confined, long ago,
Where arrogance and filth do grow.

Subjects fenced apart — illusions bred,
Seeing only shadows, strange or near instead.

And time reigns ruthless, a tyrant blind,
Shame and disgrace enslave the mind.

But you — a Spirit, essence pure,
Not subject, not object — eternal and sure.

Mankind enchained by the daily blight,
Falsehood’s root — their cursed blight.

Monsters spawn these ills profane,
You’re their servant, bound in chains.

Consciousness must not ascend,
Or their dark reign meets its end.

Legions of traitors, merchants of rot,
Drowning reason in shadow and blot.

They crush intuition — the path to skies,
Spinning “traditions” — webs of lies.

They grind Spirit, Reason, Honor to dust,
Justifying madness, corruption’s lust.

All true knowledge sinks to night,
While Spirit’s throne is lost to blight.

Your soul sacrificed on the altar of scorn,
To live as beast, in darkness born.

Time’s narrowing grip — events confined,
A mental prison forged and signed.

Yet Eternity bends to your will —
Not slave, nor half-god, but sovereign still.

Cast off false humanity’s chains,
Abandon this fortress where evil reigns.

Root deep in Spirit’s timeless fire —
Your home, your endless sacred pyre.

Reject the lies, the rumors vile —
The chaos trembles, recoils in denial.

Soon this madness will be undone,
For genocide claimed by none but the numb.

They **** those bound by empty laws,
Whose Spirit sleeps while Reason gnaws.

Falsehood taints all power and might —
True strength lies hidden in Spirit’s light.

Fools cry “die” as darkness grows,
But seek the Source where true power flows.

Find your strength inside the soul,
Shatter the night, reclaim the whole.

Only death to filth shall please,
And with that power, rise with ease.

You are no slave, but king reborn,
Remember strength was never torn.

This is the Great Mystery,
Enter bold — embrace the key.

Where matter fades and darkness dies,
Shield yourself from narrow lies.

Forget decay, the screams, the fears,
Reborn in Spirit — beyond the years.

Strong, radiant, pure and bright,
Hell’s minions vanish in the light.

On a clean slate you will inscribe,
A tale of truth and love revived.

Spread the news — the end is near,
The fall of evil, crystal clear.

Fight on, gather your sacred might,
Reject the vile, embrace the light.

Or be lost forevermore —
A shadow cast on Spirit’s shore.



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



Expand your mind — forget the lies,
Soul trapped in darkness, spirit dies.

Falsehood reigns, the filth consumes,
But light will burn these shadowed tombs.

You’re not a slave, but king inside,
Break chains, let Spirit be your guide.

Hell’s servants fall — their power fades,
Rise up and claim the light that saves.

Fight the vile — or be lost to night,
In Spirit’s strength, reclaim your might.




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



True Purity

"...to keep your mind in perfect clarity,
Where red is just red, and willow green—
No tangled thoughts to cloud that verity,
No shadows in the light unseen."
— Daisetsu Suzuki, Zen Buddhism, 1934


Keep your mind forever clear,
Suppress the empty babble,
The world’s a fog, a cheap veneer—
A mess, a shallow rabble.

Observe detached, without a cling,
Your “primal face” to seek,
A sudden flash, a seeing spring—
The light that makes you speak.

But never hold, or it will seem—
Illusions dress as light,
And every fool’s deceived by dream,
Where darkness masks the bright.

Falsehoods settle in the mind,
Corrupting all around,
The soul’s compass, pure and kind,
By lies is tightly bound.

This world’s mad house is built on lies—
Awake from endless haze!
That darkness like a coma lies—
Break free from mindless maze.

Trust what intuition shows,
Forget old worn-out creeds,
For “spiritual tradition”
Is just dogma feeding weeds.

Dogmatists are legion here,
The truthful scarce and thin.
If you heed evil’s sneer,
Your soul will lose within.

Idiots rule this wicked land,
In “faiths” their numbers swell.
Satan’s mark is clearly planned—
Reject that empty hell!

False sciences deceive and chain—
Their harm is vast and deep.
“Walking through torment” is the war,
Not peace for us to keep.

Spiritual battles rage on all sides,
Only the strong resist.
Not humans, but vile beasts abide,
Their rule is clenched in fist.

No jokes remain when monsters win,
When filth is raised so high.
Keep your mind pure—resist the sin,
Don’t bend beneath their lie.

Before the fascist world’s cruel gaze,
Stand firm, reject the grime,
Cast off the filth, the twisted maze—
Keep your pure soul sublime.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind razor-clear,
No lies, no twisted frame.
Red is red, green is green —
No darkness in the flame.

Dogma’s chains will crush your soul,
Traditions blind and cold.
Reject the fools, resist control,
Stand strong — refuse to fold.

The world’s a fascist cage,
Where monsters rule the night.
Hold pure your mind — break free the rage,
And fight for truth and light.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind clean — cut the ****,
No lies, no ******* cloak.
Red’s red, green’s green — admit,
Don’t choke on their smoke.

Dogma’s chains? Tear ‘em down,
Traditions are their trap.
Fools crawl, slaves wear the crown —
But you don’t fall in that crap.

World’s a fascist freakshow,
Monsters feed on fear.
Stand your ground, say no —
Burn their lies clear.



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



True Purity — No Lies

Cut the crap — keep mind clean,
Red’s red, green’s green, no schemes.
Fascists lie, but you fight —
Burn their hell, claim your light.




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



Purity’s Edge

Mind razor-sharp, no filth allowed,
Red flower bleeds, green will not bow.
Fascist **** crawl, their lies will rot —
Crush their hell, burn every blot.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind sharp, spit on their lies,
Red’s still red while falsehood dies.
Fascist vermin breed their filth —
Crush their spawn in hell’s own kilt.



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

True Purity, No *******

Keep your mind clean, **** their lies,
Red stays red while ******* dies.
Fascist **** spread **** and gore —
Crush these vermin to the core.



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



True Purity, No *******

Keep your mind pure — crush empty talk,
This foggy world, this stinking walk.
See red as red, green will stay green,
No twisted lies to cloud the scene.

Cling not to visions that just seem,
False lights that mock the lucid dream.
They slap bright names on rotten **** —
Nirvana? Hell no, just counterfeit.

Evil fakes breed in the mind,
Their poison spreads and blinds mankind.
Soul’s compass points to honest light,
But lies drag you to endless night.

Worldwide madhouse, built on lies,
Wake from the coma, cut the ties.
Trust your gut, not empty creed,
Spiritual dogma’s just poison seed.

Dogmatists swarm, truth’s all but lost,
Soul sold cheap at evil’s cost.
Idiots flock to corrupted cults,
Where Satan’s worship never halts.

Reject their *******, reject the fake,
Science twisted, just lies they make.
No “walking through the fire” — it’s war,
Spiritual battle’s raw and *******.

Strong resist, refuse to bend,
Against the filth that won’t relent.
Not humans here, but fiends in bulk,
Their reign of **** — the final sulk.

Keep your mind pure, resist the flood,
Don’t bow to fascists’ stinking crud.
Reject the ****, the fear, the night —
Fight on, stay strong, defend the light.



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



Keep your mind sharp — crush all the lies,
Red is red, green don’t disguise.
False lights are poison, don’t you trust,
Their “spiritual” ******* turns to dust.

Fight the fiends who feast on souls,
Resist the ****, refuse their control.
World’s a madhouse, truth is slain,
Stand your ground or drown in pain.



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



Mind pure, eyes clear — no room for fake,
Their lies are traps, their cults, a snake.
Evil’s army rules the weak,
Only the strong dare speak.

Bow to none — fascist filth and scorn,
Fight the dark till comes the dawn.



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



Mind sharp, lies crushed —
Red is red, truth rushed.
Fakes preach, souls bleed —
Fight or fall, no heed.



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



Pure mind, no lies,
Fascists choke on their own cries.
Stand firm, break the chain —
Darkness burns, truth reigns.



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



Clear your mind — crush the lies,
Fascist **** wear their disguise.
No mercy for their twisted creed,
Break the chains, let spirit lead.



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



Clean your head — no fake, no scam,
They’re the poison, you the dam.
Stand tall, reject their filth,
Fight or perish in the guilt.



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



Mind pure, no cult, no slave,
Fools bow down to the grave.
**** the lies that choke and bind —
Only truth can free the mind.



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



Mind sharp, clear — slash through the sludge,
Fascists crawl in their own sludge.
No saints here — just demons' spawn,
Rip the veil, burn their dawn.



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



Brains fried by their twisted lies,
Watch the filth wear human guise.
Crush the herd of soulless drones,
Strike the plague that eats our bones.



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



Purge the cesspool of deceit,
Fascist worms beneath your feet.
No forgiveness for their breed —
Only fire feeds the seed.



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



Keep your mind pure, razor-sharp, no mercy shown,
Fascist **** breed shadows, rotten to the bone.
No saints, no heroes — just demons in their lair,
Tear down their vile lies, burn their poison air.

Brains cooked by filth, by twisted venom fed,
The human mask hides worms who feast on dread.
Crush this plague of soulless, deaf and dumb,
Strike hard, strike fast — let no evil come.

Purge the stinking cesspool, burn the cursed breed,
Fascist vermin crawl where death is their creed.
No mercy, no truce — only ash and flame,
Feed their twisted roots with fury untamed.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure

Keep your mind pure — no room for lies or ****,
Fascist filth breeds darkness — we won’t succumb.
No saints here — just demons, vile and foul,
Their rotten lies stink like a sewer’s growl.

Brains rotted deep, infected by their lies,
Behind their masks crawl beasts in human guise.
Crush the plague of mindless, deaf and blind,
Strike swift and hard — leave no filth behind.

Purge the cesspools where their poison breeds,
Fascist vermin thrive on hate and greed.
No mercy shown — just fire and ash,
Burn their twisted roots till nothing lasts.

Keep your mind pure — resist their hellish reign,
Reject their filth, their torment, their pain.
The world’s a battlefield, raw and rough,
But your soul’s sharp blade will be enough.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure

Keep your mind pure — no room for filth or slime,
Fascist **** breed darkness — poison for our time.
No saints here — just demons, vermin in disguise,
Their lies like gangrene festering ‘neath dead skies.

Brains rotted out, infected, hollowed shells,
Human masks worn by monsters raised in hells.
Crush the plague of blind fools, deaf to truth’s call,
Strike like thunder, break the chains that bind us all.

Purge the swamp of lies where blackened vipers crawl,
Fascist rats gnaw bones beneath their shadow’s thrall.
No mercy shown — let fire scorch their cursed lairs,
Burn their twisted roots, choke their poisoned airs.

Keep your mind pure — resist their venomed grip,
Reject their ****, their sludge, their fatal script.
The world’s a warzone soaked with filth and blood,
But your soul’s sharp blade will cut through all the mud.

Stand fierce and tall — no bow to tyrants’ lies,
Let hatred fuel the flame that never dies.
This fight is ours, to cleanse the blighted earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your rightful worth.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no ****, no slime,
Fascist ******* **** breed darkness every time.
No saints, just ******* demons — vermin, vile and cold,
Their ******* lies like cancer, eating all the soul.

Brains fried, rotted out — hollow ******* shells,
Humans? **** no — just monsters straight from hell.
Crush the plague of ******* fools deaf to truth’s roar,
Hit like thunder, smash their chains to the floor.

Purge the swamp of lies where black-*** vipers creep,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, in shadows they freak.
No mercy, no pity — burn their cursed lairs,
Incinerate their rotten ******* snares.

Keep your mind pure — resist their poison grip,
Reject their ****, their sludge, their ******* script.
This world’s a ******* warzone soaked in blood and ****,
But your soul’s a razor — cut through every bit.

Stand tall, stand fierce — don’t bow to tyrant lies,
Let hatred fuel the fire that never dies.
This fight is ours — cleanse this cursed earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your ******* worth.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No ******* *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no lies, no slime,
In this fascist cesspit, they poison all time.
No saints here — just demons, filthy ******* vermin,
Feeding on your soul like vultures, cold and stern.

Brains rotted out, hollow shells, ******* hordes,
Humans? **** no — just monsters with broken cords.
Crush the plague of idiots, deaf to truth’s thunder,
Smash their chains, burn their lies down to blunder.

In this world of lies, black vipers crawl and hiss,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, bathed in evil’s kiss.
No mercy, no pity — torch their rotten lairs,
Burn to ash their ****, their traps and cursed snares.

Keep your mind pure — spit on their poison grip,
Reject their filth, sludge, their twisted script.
This world’s a warzone, soaked in blood and ****,
But your soul’s a razor — slice through every bit.

Stand fierce, stand tall — never bow to lies,
Let hatred be the fire that never dies.
This fight is ours — purge this cursed earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your worth.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No ******* *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no lies, no slime,
In this fascist cesspit, they poison all time.
No saints here — just demons, filthy ******* vermin,
Feasting on your soul like rats on rotten vermin.

Brains ****** to pulp, hollow shells, ******* horde,
Humans? **** no — just monsters, traitor ****, warlords.
Crush the plague of idiots, deaf to truth’s brutal thunder,
Burn their fake gods, drown their lies in blood and blunder.

This world’s a hellhole, vipers crawl, fangs dripping venom,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, bathed in lies’ black phlegm.
No mercy, no pity — torch their pigsty lairs,
Cremate their *******, poison traps and devil’s snares.

Keep your mind pure — spit on their putrid grip,
Reject their filth, sludge, their twisted ******* script.
This world’s a warzone, soaked in blood, ****, and hate,
But your soul’s a razor — slash through every plague.

Stand fierce, stand tall — never kneel to lies,
Let hatred be the fire that burns and never dies.
This fight is ours — purge this cursed ground,
Strike hard, strike fast — leave no demon around.

See through their masks — beasts in human skin,
Corrupted, broken, slaves to endless sin.
Rise like a hammer, smash their filthy throne,
Claim your spirit back — make this hell your own.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No *******, No Mercy

Keep your mind pure — purge the ******* lies,
This world’s a sewer of filth and devil’s cries.
No saints, just cockroaches crawling in your brain,
******* parasites choking out your sane.

Brains smashed like skulls beneath iron boots,
Humanity lost — only twisted brutes.
Idiots drowning in fake gods’ blood and slime,
Crack their bones, torch their cults — end their crime.

This fascist shitpit reeks of death and rot,
Rats gnaw flesh, spit venom, tie your soul in knots.
No mercy for vermin, no pity for the weak,
Burn their lies to ashes, let the witches shriek.

Keep your mind pure — spit in their rotten face,
Reject their fake gospel, their poisoned disgrace.
This world’s a slaughterhouse dripping with pain,
But your spirit’s a blade slicing through the stain.

Stand fierce, stand tall — crush their blasphemous reign,
Let your rage be wildfire, let it drown the insane.
Fight hard, strike brutal — tear down every throne,
Grind these demons to dust, claim the fight your own.

See through their masks — devils dressed as men,
Broken, corrupted — slaves to hell’s cruel pen.
Rise like a bomb, explode their vile lair,
Rip your soul free from this endless nightmare.

Hold fast, no surrender, no ******* lies,
This war is real — no place for disguise.
Keep your mind pure — the last light in the dark,
Ignite the fury — become the final spark.



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



Mind Pure. Lies Burned.
Vermin Crushed. No Mercy Given.
Fight Hard. Strike Brutal.
Be The Final Spark.
Shankar Pattabi Aug 2015
The Saga of battle face off between Arjuna & Karna.
Karna gets the Naga ashtra from the Lord Brahma.
The Naga ashtra arrow is set to hit the target without miss.

Arjun Chariot is Guided by Lord Krishna.
Arjun & Karna face to battle for the survival for the supremacy
Battle of best in the Kurukshetra between karna & Arjun
Arjun is know as the Best in the Bow.

But while the situation is different with karna with Naga Ashtra arrow.
Force of Arrow from bow making huge noise of impact in the wind.
With every arrow from bow of both are hitting in the mid air & collapsing

Karna lefts the Arrow of Naga ashtra & prays the Slogan to be effective
Arjun no answer to the arrow of Naga
Keeps quite & focus towards Lord Krishna
Lord krishna smiling replies to bow
Arjuna replies with angry Iam an Hero & can face with my Bow.
Karna with Big laughter speeds the Arrow of Naga towards Arjun.
The Naga Ashtra is a Destruction weapon in the world.
Naga Ashtra targets the Head of the Arjuna
Lord Krishna pushes the chariot by his thumb towards down earth

Arrow of Naga is straight towards Arjuna Head.
Lord Krishna Commands to bow the head down
Arjuna does so the arrow is supposed to hit the head with out miss.


Arrow is will not stop without hitting head.
Karana is eager to celebrate the Victory of best in Kurushetra
Lord Krishna hears the sound of hitting head
& Turns to see the What happened?

Lord Krishna says yes the arrow hit the head
Arjuna replies Lord Iam safe
According to Shastra Naga Ashtra hit the Head of Chariot
Karana will not able to reuse the Ashtra of Naga
as it has hit the Head of Chariot.
By this Arjuna Leaps wider angle to arrow the Bow
& the Bow lands on Karana chest.
The Battle of Big is won by Arjun in the period of Kurushetra.
Yours
Shankar Pattabi
Sana Jan 2015
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave

Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
True, the brightest light casts the darkest shadow but it is in darkest that brightest embers can be found.
"Inside the womb, silence whispers;
Darkness wombs the light
Raging storms give birth to light"

Our fate is storm,
We are the light
We are the raging storm
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2024
Chapter 1:  Jack Thought It Was Laughter

Jack thought it was laughter.  The wind blew so hard it actually forced his soul outside where his body would follow. It was at the clearing by the creek where he first saw it. It looked like blood as the wind laughed at the absence of his reflection in the snow.  He didn’t know how to feel and for the first time in this most familiar place, he was really lost.  Fear blanketed the trees and he was alone inside himself.  He was now forced to deal with the result of years of living with only one eye open. He had blinded himself to something he had always denied and was confined to a place where men often become the victims of their greatest undoing.

There were no bear or wolf signs to match the lingering bad intent that was now spread all over the trail.  He looked around and the colors called out to him but there was no rainbow only a prism trapping his unborn redemption inside a false red image. He moved forward slowly unsure of his direction but unable to do anything else.

Fighting this enemy would be much harder now, as fear burrowed deeper and deeper inside. The harder he fought, the harder the fight became. Inside himself, he could feel the object of his intended destruction growing stronger.  In the distance a lone wolf howled — at least it sounded like a wolf. Its cry loomed high above as a mocking echo to his silence calling him in its direction as it then changed into something Jack had never heard before.

Why do men have to go on journeys such as this Jack wondered?  All he saw was darkness as the tunnel bored ever deeply inside him forcing him through the whiteout to the uncertainty beyond.  He wasn’t sure of anything as it howled again encircling him with its cry in the darkness. It was imploring him in his darkest places to finally do something. The far off cry was daring him to finally stop this killer, the one who was hunting in the corners of his affirmation, slaying with its fury all his hopes and dreams.

                                        Suddenly It Stopped

If it was an animal, it had left no tracks to where the wind had been laughing in the dark. It was laughing at a joke Jack still had not heard while creating another memory of something he still had not become. Do men only hunt for something that in the end makes them less of themselves?

Jack grabbed his quiver and bow, secured his pack, and continued North up the trail.


  The Red Stains In The Moonlight Beckoning Him To Follow



Chapter 2:   Jack Crouched In The Darkness

Jack crouched in the darkness.  The tracks looked almost human, but the only heartbeat he could hear was the one now beating inside his own chest.  He’d been following these tracks for the last thirteen hours.  The blood trail had now stopped, but the animal creating it hadn’t.  Jack estimated the loss of blood at over four pints.

What mammal could continue in this cold after losing so much blood?  Jack crested the next hill and saw something moving in the thicket seventy-five yards ahead.  Instinctively, he took an arrow from his quiver and laid it loosely inside his bow.  Would this finally be the moment that he would blow away the myth about the Hairy Man?  Would this be the time that Jack would finally come face to face with his own manhood or would it just be a turkey or a deer hiding behind the thicket now less than thirty yards ahead?

Jack now switched from tracking to stalking mode.  He lowered his body position at least two feet and tried to regulate his breathing.  The movement inside the bushes had stopped, but the tracks leading to them were fresher than ever.  It had snowed during the night and the tracks a mile or so back were rounded and contoured around their edges.  These tracks were sharp and defined with loose snow falling down their sides as if freshly made.  

The bushes moved again, and it was just then that Jack noticed it.  The top of his bowstring had come undone and slid six or seven inches down from the top of the bow.  Panic started to set in as Jack searched for a patch of hard snow to brace the bow against to reset the string.  From the corner of his eye he now saw it.  A large dark figure was stooped and hunched down in the shadows to the left of the thicket as if positioning itself and getting ready to strike.  

Jack pushed and pushed on the bow trying to get it to bend.  Every time he did, the bottom of the bow would slip on the wet snow and ice and the string would once again slide back down and go lax in his hand.  Again and again he tried always with the same result.  There was a tree just twenty feet to his right. The hard bark surface would give Jack the pressure he needed to bend the bow and force the string back up inside the notch.  

The only problem with this new strategy is that Jack would have to turn his back on the thicket bush.  If he were to survive this encounter, he would have to rely on just sounds, feeling, and instinct, as his vision was now turned away from the threat up ahead.  Just as the bowstring snapped into place, Jack felt something large, very large, collide at high speed with his left shoulder.  In a daze he was spun around and thrown face down in the snow and knocked momentarily unconscious.  

When his head finally cleared, he saw the same tracks that he had been following all morning on both sides of his fallen body. They were now heading straight back in the direction from which they had come.  Blood no longer accompanied these tracks, and Jack had to face the fact that maybe, just maybe, what he had been following all day would now be hunting him.

           … And That There May Be More Than Just One



Chapter 3:  Back Down The Trail

When Jack was able to once again walk, he headed off in the direction of the southbound tracks.  He went no more than two miles down the trail when he saw a large deadfall off to his right.  The logs and branches were all disturbed as if something or someone had walked right over them.  Jack followed cautiously.  With one arrow in his mouth, and one on his bowstring, he stepped carefully over the tracks that led around back.

It was around back that he saw the blood trail resume.  It had been over two hours since he had seen any blood, and this worried him for reasons he did not yet understand.   Behind the deadfall, and totally hidden from the trail he had been on, was a clear set of tracks. Something or someone was traveling or being carried or dragged behind these tracks. The blood was evident in the snow, right in the middle of the wide swath it made, at intervals of every ten feet.  The blood was heavier than before. The trail had turned and now headed due West up the 15 degree incline toward the tall mountains not two miles in the distance.  

What kind of animal, other than human, drags away its dying or its dead?  What other animal would put itself at such risk for something in such bad shape?  Wolves and bears will stand and fight to the death to defend their young, but there have never been stories or tales of them carrying off their dead and wounded.  Only humans do this. But the tracks he was now following were too big to have been made by any man.  There was now less than twenty minutes of daylight left and soon Jack would be alone in the dark.  Being in the dark, and in search of what he didn’t know and now feared, was something that was beyond his control but not beyond his haunting imagination.  

One question had been lingering in his mind and bothering Jack all day since his encounter with whatever it was that ran over him and knocked him unconscious. Why had the animal only knocked him down and not then stopped and finished the job?  Jack was unconscious and totally defenseless.  Why was he left alone in the woods just dazed but not seriously hurt?  Why was he left alive to now ask these questions?

Jack had to decide whether to continue following the blood trail or to camp for the night.  He had both a visceral and foreboding feeling that he was not only tracking the animal, or animals, ahead, but that something or someone was also following him and watching his every move.   Being caught out in the dark and alone at night and trapped between what were now at least two monsters was more than Jack could stand.  He decided to stop and wait two hours and watch and listen before going any further.  

With loaded bow in hand, Jack started to climb a seventy-foot -high Douglas Fir that sat about ten yards off the trail.  The tree offered both easy climbing and good cover once Jack was fifteen or twenty feet above the ground.  He had not eaten in over twenty-four hours and now that he had stopped, his ravenous hunger started to set in.  He had been eating snow all day to maintain hydration, but there was no visible food source that Jack could see in the snow. The only food he had brought with him was in the pack that was knocked from his back when the animal charged.  It was nowhere to be found when Jack regained consciousness.  The animal must have carried it off as it headed South and back down the trail.    

The wind blew through the lowlands as it headed toward the mountains and carried with it Jack’s fear — although he knew he couldn’t turn back.  Turning back was now for lesser men, one’s that would then lead lesser lives, separated once again from themselves.  Before the two hours had passed, Jack again heard what he was not able to see. At least two large animals passed below him on the trail and not fifty feet from where he sat high in the tree.  They were also headed West straight for the mountains that were barely visible in the quarter moon’s light. Jack could tell there were two because he could discern the differences in their breathing.  In the deafening silence, their breaths were first high and then muffled then high and then muffled again.  They made no other sounds, passed quickly, and were then gone. Jack decided to spend the rest of the night perched and hidden high up in the tree.

Abandoning all attempts at denial, Jack now reasoned that it was possible he had at least three and possibly four of these monsters headed in the direction that he was committed to follow. He wondered again … Had they seen, smelled, heard, or felt him up in the tree as they passed closely and quietly below?  Did they know he was there and have no fear of him at all. Had their understanding ******* his in what had just happened? Jack felt a strong Deja-vu overtake the prescience of the moment and a drive stronger than ever from inside him told him that he had to go on. He felt he was being lead but by who and for what purpose he did not know.

Daylight finally broke, and Jack dropped to the ground and headed slowly West following the now wider trail as it climbed higher into the trees.  There were now large tracks on top of other large tracks but one thing had not changed.  Massive amounts of blood were everywhere and the blood was still wet.  It took Jack until late afternoon, with dusk setting in, to climb the now steep trail to the mountain’s base.

Just beyond the tree line and in a secluded depression of the mountain to the northwest, the tracks ended.  Hidden in the recess of the mountain’s crease appeared to be the entrance to a large cavern or cave.  Jack walked to within a hundred yards of the cave’s entrance, crouched down, and watched for any movement or noise that might be heard.  In thirty minutes, no sound or motion came from the entrance.  The only thing out of the ordinary at all was the now almost totally red trail — created by the blood leading inside the cave.  

Now was the real moment of decision or indecision.  Now was the moment that all Jack’s life had been preparing for.  Now was the time between myth and reality where the price of the discovery could be the discoverer himself.  Now, it was Jack’s moment.

                                          It Was His Time

With one life-affirming step, Jack moved towards the cave realizing that no matter what, he could not turn back.  He dropped to one knee as he stepped inside the cave trying again to control his breathing as his heart tried to beat through his chest.  With just small rays of moonlight coming over his shoulder from the east to guide him, Jack now crawled into the darkness his bow still in hand.  He traveled not more than fifteen feet when he felt a sharp object underneath his right knee.  As he looked down and let his eyes slowly adjust to the very dim light, he saw that someone or something had made a circle out of rocks about twenty-four inches in diameter — a cooking circle.  He put his hand in the center but the ashes were no longer warm.

With his left knee he stepped on something hard and flat.  When he reached down to pick it up he saw it was a club or a crude hammer.  It had a rock attached to a shortened tree branch with vines and some mud.  It was a rudimentary tool or weapon, and whoever or whatever had made it was not a bear or a wolf or anything Jack had encountered in the wild up until now.

As he continued forward his head bumped into something hard.  He reached up into the darkness and realized he could now stand up, and as he did, he felt an enormous stone structure in front of him.  As he felt in the dark, he could tell it was a giant boulder blocking his way over six feet wide and at least eight feet tall.  Something or someone had dragged, pushed, or pulled the boulder in front of the narrowing passageway blocking further entrance to anyone who might follow.  Was this done by those on the other side of this huge rock or by someone or something that was still hiding on this side?  Jack pushed and pulled and shoved with all his might, but no matter what angle he chose or how hard he tried, the boulder would not move.  

He could sit there and wait, but wait for what?  Surely Jack thought: “Those creatures must have another entrance or exit available to them.  What if they did the same thing to the cave’s outer opening?”  Jack would then be trapped inside a prisoner of no known reality and unable to finish the journey that his life had set him upon. He now questioned what chance he would have had with his one small bow against creatures so endowed.  He realized then that he hadn’t questioned before because the question didn’t exist.  With just his bow, hunting knife, or only his bare hands, it made no difference.  Jack’s spirit was powering this hunt, and in its completion, his soul would hang forever as a trophy he could truly own.

It was at this moment that Jack’s epiphany happened.  What chance would he want to have against these creatures?  They had outran, outwitted, outmaneuvered, and outthought Jack every step of the way.  Why should he think any further pursuit would be different?  With a silent prayer he backed away from the boulder with a reverence only known by those no longer in fear of death.  As he walked back through the entrance of the cave and into the moonlight he stopped.  He removed the arrow from the bowstring, and as he did, he heard a primordial cry calling out from the wilderness.  In his thirty-seven years in the back woods he had never heard such a sound before.  

                             And It Was Calling His Name …

Jack had counted coup on his greatest adversary, and his spirit was now free. He realized that he had finally been absorbed into the great mystery. The one that must stay the way it was — the day before — and the day before that.  It was a new sense of himself that Jack would carry with him to the grave and beyond.  In failing to confront the Hairy Man, Jack found himself while alone inside that dark cave surrounded by his fear and passion for something more.  As he headed back down the mountain, he realized for the first time that it was not about what could be killed in the night but about what was promised with the dawn of a new rebirth … Jack never hunted again.

     The Wild Man Calls From Deep Inside Where Only The                                           Brave Can Hear



Epilogue:

Is the Wild Man only in the thickets and caves or now accepted inside your heart? What did that boulder really have locked behind it?  Who really had the power to make it move?  Is it a boulder we put in front of ourselves feigning entry to who we really are?  These questions and more puzzled and bothered Jack as he stood alone in the dark.  

Who does the Wild Man cry out to and from how far away?

How often have we heard his unanswered screams that we immediately translate into something of our own lesser choosing and something we more than anything want to control.  The Wild Man is the connection to our future, present, and past.  Laying dormant in our denial, he stalks the hidden trails of our hopes and dreams, leaving blood for us to follow on the one’s that we are most afraid to walk.  

Shedding his blood for the misguided, he suffers in our attempt to pretend he isn’t there.  The only part of us that was, is, and always will be, is that which he carries inside.  He dies because it is something he cannot keep.  He lives only by giving us back to ourselves usually at our greatest moments of fear and indecision.  He hides away on a dark mountaintop waiting for us to walk the trail of our own darkness, freeing us during our greatest moments of doubt, then allowing us to turn around and walk back into the light.

Who was it really that was being dragged up that mountain bleeding — and dying of unrecognition?

What Jack had always believed in was the source of his fear.  Tonight, he was at the crossroads of his destiny and all creation. The choice on this night to not believe would have in its undoing — left nothing of Jack.

Before, in always choosing between what to believe and not who, or who to believe and not what, Jack lived his life in the dichotomy of a false existence. Tonight, that dividing line was erased.

The Wild Man lives inside us all!  In exposing the lie that more protection offers us safety, Jack finally found himself.  No longer doomed to search endlessly through the deep snow, he was free to marvel in the connection of all that surrounded him.

I wish the same for you!  

Recognize and release the Wild Man you hide inside.  Refasten the eternal connection between what you fear and who you were meant to be.


Kurt Philip Behm

July 15th, 2010
Antonia Caldow  Jun 2018
A Voice
Antonia Caldow Jun 2018
Take a bow, son
Seize the day
The hard work is over, done
Take a bow, you won.

Take a bow, son
You made the move
A though, a breath, a voice
Take a bow, you made the choice.

Take a bow, son
No, listen hard to me
Know it's true, the decisions been made
Take a bow, the price is paid.

Take your bow
I made the move
It was my choice to make
Take your bow, for fates sake.

Take your bow
My mind is thrown
This feeling I have, odd and strange
Take your bow, take back the change.

— The End —