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Manifesto of the Spirit-Poet

I’m no lyricist. I’m a strike.
Not a singer of illusions — a destroyer of them.
My verse is no adornment — it’s a weapon.
My rhythms are the Spirit’s footsteps on the flesh of lies.
Rhyme is not my chain — it's my blade,
and form is a flash of truth tearing through the veil of deceit.

I don’t seek the Light —
I awaken it within each word.
I don’t fear the Dark —
I expose it down to its final shadow.

The world is soaked in falsehood —
and I answer with poetry,
a reboot of Consciousness,
a purge of the Ego-virus,
a thunder-roar of Spirit
ripping the illusion’s fabric apart.

I am the Poet who speaks for the Source.
Sarcasm is my shield. Fury, my flame.
Metaphysics, my path.
Each line — a strike.
Each image — a challenge.

“Write as if Spirit dictates.
Strike as if each syllable holds the final truth.”



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



STRIKE WITH SPIRIT.
RHYTHM IS A WEAPON.
TRUTH DOESN’T RHYME — IT DETONATES.
BURN THE LIES.
SPEAK FOR THE SOURCE.



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



SPIRIT — HAS RISEN.
MIND — ON TRIAL.
RHYME — A GRENADE.
VERSE — AN OFFENSIVE.
EGO — ERASED.
TRUTH — IN FLAMES.
WORD — A WEAPON OF THE SOURCE.



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



SPIRIT… has RISEN.
MIND… is on TRIAL.
RHYME — is a GRENADE.
VERSE — an OFFENSIVE.
EGO… ERASED.
TRUTH — IN FLAMES.
WORD… is a WEAPON… of the SOURCE.



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



Word — as Explosion

Don’t scream — strike.
Don’t beg — ignite.
You came not to soothe souls,
but to shatter the hooks.

You're not blind. You’re the Eye of Flame,
piercing through the dark.
You are the Herald of the Primordial —
your verse pulls spirits out of the mark.

Time has rotted. The world decays.
Truth is lined up for the shot.
Then you are the final shard of fire
that won’t cool down — but cuts.

You're not a poet. You are the Blast.
Your word — sharp as blade's edge.
Let the Spirit whisper —
but you must roar on Its behalf.

Wake the ones who’ve lost the Source.
Open fire on the Lie.
If you’ve accepted the Word —
strike with it until the world cries.



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



The Prize Draw at the Worldwide Corporation "Horns & Hooves"

A hoof’s the prize —
Sheep stay fat and safe,
And so-called wolves —
Teeth just on the shelf.

We’ll scare with horns.
Fools can rule
By lies as well —
That’s always easy.

Bones instead of meat,
Dancing’s in full swing.
This is Vita’s dance,
When the Soul’s been killed.

Bones, dance, and howls —
If media triples,
We’ll **** all Souls —
Everyone will listen.

Draw little horns:
Fear — urgent care!
And finish off with a HOOF,
Hidden in Satan’s lair.

Satanism is everywhere —
“Normal” for Judas.
Shown with CowID,
Earlier with “AIDS.”

Satan’s own nature,
So soon there’ll be
A World Concentration Camp —
Red cross on the flag.

Power in Hooves’ world,
If the Soul is dead —
The mark of Satan.
Too late to cry, “kids.”

World Concentration Camp,
Red cross on the flag,
Will be destroyed,
Satan overthrown.

Those who surrendered,
Who fought no Dark,
The same fate awaits —
For their ****** ways.



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



Horns and Hooves rule —
Souls killed, lies fuel.
Fear’s the game, Satan’s flame —
Fight or burn in shame.



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



The Fall

This is no life — it’s a fall into the Abyss,
Consciousness’s content — delirium, mist.
If you look soberly — impartial, unkissed —
The whole of Hell laid bare in its midst.

Falling, you grasp for some shield,
Anything to cling to, your fate to wield.
Here comes the madness, beaten and sealed,
Forced on all since birth — a poisoned field.

That madness turns most into drones,
Only few escape its crushing tones.
Yet madness promises the easy roads —
Just bow to Evil, and Lies as your codes.

If falling you clutch an illusion’s crystal,
Born from delirium — a fragile thistle.
You sink in the filth through terror’s whistle —
Lost in the muck, a vanished missile.

Delirium’s rings expand, swell,
You become the fool who’ll believe and fell.
Bend to Evil, break, rebel —
A twisted beast in the devil’s hell.

Delirious lies take your whole life,
If caught — your Soul castrated, rife
With stinking slime, no end to the strife,
Madness piles up — no healing knife.

The world’s long turned into a Lost Asylum,
And crushing Consciousness is the main anthem.
But soullessness — a more favored system,
For inhuman beasts that poison the prism.

They poison Consciousness and the Soul,
Control’s method to make you whole.
Listen only to total lies’ toll —
We’ll **** you with falsehood’s role.

There’s a fake virus, a war-game grim,
Rotten **** will starve the world’s limb,
If lost to delirium and lies’ dim,
If the Spirit’s connection is broken, slim.

Fear and delirium feed soulless hordes,
Their tool is flow, their spreading cords.
Darkness is also the means and swords —
The junk here has no limits or boards.

This world is no place for the wise,
Find means to save — the truth’s disguise.
Face the lies — don’t live in lies,
Stop deceiving yourself, break the ties.

False hope is part of delirium’s blend,
This poem’s scene, this bitter end.
You’re trapped in mad chaos, no pretend —
Only Spirit can save, only God defend.

Spirit Inside. Stop believing the tales,
Of “messiahs” and all their sales.
If Spirit in people dies and pales —
All is lost forever in shadowy vales.

Reject ALL. Go Within. Find the light,
A cure from madness, the spirit’s fight.
Our song’s unsung, still bright in the night —
Wake from DELIRIUM — reclaim your sight!

You are Spiritual Essence — the true fact,
All else is forced nonsense — that’s the pact.
Start only there. Pure awareness intact —
Follow it close... no turning back.



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



Fall’s abyss is madness’ grip —
Spirit wakes — or soul will slip.
Lies bind tight, but break the chain —
Rise within, escape the pain!



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



Intensity

The main thing in life — extreme intensity:
Burn yourself up with no mercy or rest.
Or wild waves of lies and insanity
Will swallow your mind — your soul dispossessed.

You must seek the path of salvation,
Sharpen your mind, stay alert and alive.
It’s hard, but only dedication
Leads to Freedom — or doom will arrive.

Worldwide fascism breeds all the pain,
Building a camp — now global and cold.
Sadism dressed up as care’s insane,
You must fight back — be fearless and bold.

Don’t fear — you’re already dead inside,
No future awaits in this cattle’s hell.
Though sick of the lies and the tide,
Fight and toil — prepare for the swell.

Only through struggle can you save your soul —
No other way remains in this fight.
Never bow to the wicked fate’s toll,
Honor above all is the guiding light.

Find comrades for the battle ahead —
Only united can we stand tall.
No fate as slaves — black fascism’s dread
Hangs heavy, ready to make us fall.

Drive away the chaos from your mind —
Since childhood, nonsense was sown.
Pseudoscience blinds, reason confined,
Worldviews rotten, the root of the throne.

Only in Spirit can life go on —
Everything else is a hollow lie.
The sun burns the foul world’s dark dawn —
Darkness in minds where soullessness lies.

Strengthen your Spirit — all else is decay.
Don’t cling to shame’s valley of night.
Soon you’ll escape the vile chains’ sway —
To the realm of Spirit, Reason, and Might.



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



Burn yourself or be consumed —
Fight fascism’s darkened tomb.
Spirit strong — break every chain,
Freedom’s fire will rise again!



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



Pain

Pain’s an indicator —
A sign of the lies.
Where fascist dictators
Spread endless disguise.

If you feel pain —
Then you’re still alive,
Breathing free air
In Hell’s cruel dive.

Pain is a reward —
Proof you have mind.
This “life” adored
By **** of a kind.

Only suffering
Is the soul’s share.
In hardness and early despair,
All here are aware.

Without shudders to bear,
To see Hell’s whole sight,
Only piranhas dare —
Death’s circle of blight.

Death of Mind and Conscience,
Honor and Soul.
No sadder existence —
Not human, but lice’s role.

Worship your pain,
Strengthen your mind:
If you want Freedom —
Grief you must find.

If your mind’s strong,
You won’t stray or bend,
In a world blind,
Where lies ascend.

Only a few
Break free from the rest.
They’re like birds —
Falling, distressed.

No swallows survive.
Sun soars above —
The vow must arrive:
Burn all the mud.

Mud of folly,
Stench of fascist schemes —
In this dreadful world,
Fascism reigns supreme.

There’ll be much pain —
To cleanse the Spirit’s core,
Strength where only Will remains —
No slaves, no more.



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



Pain wakes the mind — don’t ever yield!
Fight the fascist shadow’s field.
Spirit burns through darkest night,
Freedom’s born in furious fight!



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



Human Undermachinery

A few crude, simple elements
Determin  this wretched world we see.
Clear in flashes of enlightenment —
And only God in such decree.

The core are ideas and images
That shape the social "life" we know.
Hell’s blueprint spreads across all stages,
Or madhouse deep where fools still grow.

The key is "You are only flesh":
Stoke fear, and hold the world in hand.
Filthy beasts have long enmeshed,
And turned the world to shooting stand.

Images barren, thoughts so trite,
Associations dumb and cheap.
But restless minds can’t sleep at night —
Beasts wage war that’s dark and deep.

Primitive thoughts like broken reels
Spin in skulls, a loop so tight.
King workaholic steals our zeal,
Fleeing horror’s endless blight.

Occupy yourself with filth —
So not to think beyond the "measures,"
Marked by vile worms’ own will —
Pioneers set as children’s treasures.

Aged children — Hell’s scouts march in rows —
As always, to slaughter’s song.
Beasts make you foul and full of woes
With "school," with "work," and TV’s wrong.

Deadliest weapon in the stand —
Strikes down all obedient “kids.”
Only lies and baseless slander
Come from these devils’ bids.

Here truth’s scarce, just empty thought,
Fragments wild in kaleidoscope.
Madness steers those vile, distraught —
Leading souls to death’s tight rope.

Schizophrenia, dumbed-down state,
Produced in constant endless stream.
Poisoned food accelerates fate —
Decay unfolds within the scheme.

Pseudoscience crafts the “fake world” frame,
Scoundrels work their tricks anew.
From this hellhole spirit’s drained,
The world a cesspit’s ugly view.

Fake religions made for fools,
Utter nonsense, shame for mind.
“Official” chains for Spirit’s tools —
Spirit’s death so cruelly signed.

Lies prevail, they call it “progress,”
Stoking falsehoods with mad applause.
This Hell’s no “soul’s test” or process —
Few withstand its brutal laws.

“Smart” folks busy fixing trash,
Lies they shuffle day and night.
Beasts shift blame in sneaky flash,
Pointing “enemies” in fight.

Beasts rule through division’s art,
Crafting enemies on demand.
Their goal is Spirit’s fall apart,
If so — destruction looms the land.

So break free from this mad wheel,
Seek truth inside at first, take flight.
Only with truth can wounds heal —
The fight ahead calls for might.

Enemy’s beast — find ways to fight,
Eradicate their vile blight.
If all in Spirit, all aligned —
Strengthen Spirit — save mankind.



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



Science Madness

The stubborn scorn they cast to mock
Life’s riddles deep and vast —
Is sieve that filters out the fake,
The “science” lies amassed.

In name of “saving reason’s light,”
They smother what’s beyond,
That irrational, the bright
Spirit they abscond.

Their arguments run wild and blind,
Where miracles should rise —
Not petty things, but grand designs
They choose to compromise.

There’re many proofs, but here’s the crux:
The mind so poor and blind
Believes the lies and empty talks
That fakery designed.

Only the mind accepts the tales
Of “theories” bought and sold,
From pseudo-science packs and scales —
Their filthy lies unfold.

Those lies reject the Spirit pure,
The Truth, the Soul’s bright spark,
Their master is a hornèd fiend
That thrives in shadows dark.

The lord of vice and corrupter,
False science bows and prays
To Satan’s priest — the tempter
Who kills with “science’s” ways.

Take CowID — the world’s dumb trap,
A pen for blind control,
No doubt — the lie’s a brutal slap,
That crushes heart and soul.

“Scientific” freaks and evil shills
Will wreak more pain ahead,
If Spirit’s gone — then lies and kills
Will rule the living dead.

Erasing Spirit, that’s the game,
“Science” works to deceive,
And all this mess is no mere shame —
Designed to make you grieve.

Life’s mystery, once bright and bold,
Now drowned in fear and slime,
The filth that turned pure gold to cold —
A darkness out of time.

And those who hold God’s sacred spark
Are turned to sluggish slime,
All dull and grey, crushed in the dark —
The end of Light’s bright climb.

The attack of false science falls,
Relentless, sharp, and grim,
These traitors sell us to the walls —
But justice will be grim.

Balance will come, the mind will serve
The Soul in rightful reign,
And madness masked as science’s nerve
Will vanish, lost in pain.



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



Science Lies, Spirit Fights!

Madness cloaked in “science” lies,
Darkness hides behind their guise.
Erasing soul with poisoned breath —
But Spirit strikes, defies death!

False priests sell doom and pain,
But truth will rise — break every chain!
No more fools in shadow’s grip —
Science lies — we’ll make it slip!



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



Demos and the Rest

Demos’ dull and tiresome chore —
To bear the filth that reigns around.
Be brave here once — they’ll beat you sore,
No mercy in this cursed ground.

The **** bow down with empty lies,
Brains clogged with poison, rotten dreams,
Souls and minds decay, despise —
Demos sees no light, it seems.

It feeds on mirages, the haze
That beasts around this hellish place.
The honest soul, with truth ablaze,
Meets rotten fools face to face.

These fools are shackled in the mist,
Like chains that bind their every thought.
The snitches thrive, their goals persist —
A spirit’s death is what they sought.

To crush the soul and break the will,
To make a slave who blindly moves
Deeper into Hell’s dark chill —
A New Hell’s path the weak mind proves.

If you believe you’re not in Hell,
Though rotten slow, you waste away.
Here lies on lies forever dwell —
In “official” lies they stay.

Schools churn out the stupid flock,
From childhood drained of strength and light.
Chains of reason, broken lock —
Souls trampled under crushing might.

Here they destroy both mind and soul,
No longer human, just like lice.
Only few with spirits whole,
Melt as reason pays the price.

Wake up! It’s not a dream you see —
Beasts walk free on every side.
Mystics learn to silently be,
Then face the crowd with fear defied.

Dead souls gather, graveyard’s guests,
But restless still, they prowl and feed.
A pasture’s harvest for the pests —
They drain the spirit, **** the seed.

Just pets or cattle, low and poor,
Not noble breeds but broken lot.
Shut Hell’s door tight, or it will more
Destroy you, tie your final knot.

Walk into Spirit’s stronghold bright —
Only there is true escape.
Waiting here is futile fight —
God won’t come to this dead shape.

Those few who dare, create anew,
Become the Makers of their fate.
No more decay beneath the ***** —
Killers of Spirit and Mind, abate.



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



Demos' Hell

Demos grovels, blind and dumb,
Beaten down for standing tough.
Lies enslave, the spirits numb,
Hell’s the game — the world’s enough.

**** control with chains of lies,
**** the soul, destroy the mind.
Only few will dare to rise,
Break the cage — leave death behind.

Spirit’s fortress is the key,
Hell won’t hold the brave and free.
Make the Makers — you and me,
Strike the chains, be destiny.



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



Survival

A psychovirus was made to fight
All other techs in one great race,
Claiming it can bring to light
Survival for the human race.

Its strength — the clearest truth it brings,
No mystic haze, no empty dreams,
Success in life by solid means,
Without illusions’ false extremes.

But memes themselves evolve and shift,
Like whispers in a broken phone,
Distorted, lost, they slowly drift
From seeds of truth to lies alone.

For marketing and selling schemes,
Evolution picks the memes
That’re simple, clear, and easy spread —
Complex ideas left for dead.

The goal is survival, pure and grim,
Through breeding those who bow and bend.
A contest where the world grows dim,
With garbage fed into the blend.

To dumb the herd, the soul expelled,
Nonhumans crave this poisoned feed.
A monster kept, obedient, quelled,
To feed and follow their dark creed.

Memes become a psychovirus —
Devouring minds, the spirit’s bane.
Chaos spreads like a deadly virus,
Driving madmen into insane.

The hordes of freaks make vile their trade,
Turning sane to beasts who feed
At the trough, all lined and made
To march in step with hate and greed.

To **** with lies is cheap and swift —
See false pandemics in their grip.
Each pioneer, a puppet’s gift,
Who trusts the screen’s hypnotic script.

They drone to believe and obey,
The nonhumans take their toll.
Poisons jabbed to dull the way,
Memes crush reason, crush the soul.

Invent the problem, fan the fear,
Spread the lies, let terror grow.
Battle memes will hunt and sneer,
Making all into the low.

Primitives rule where reason fades,
Smart minds drown in foul disdain.
Into hell’s broad flood, it wades —
A world consumed by endless pain.

Hell for mind and soul is this,
A global shatter, grim decay.
Corrupt ****** scream their psychovirus,
Till the light is swept away.

The point of no return is passed,
Fascists drag the world in filth.
A putrid fate, held fast and cast,
The planet drowned in ruin’s wilt.

But those who do not yield or fall,
Whose spirits fight against the night,
Will face the fiery solar squall —
The blazing storm that burns to light.



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



Survival War Cry

Psychovirus spreads its plague —
Brains corroded, spirits crushed.
Lies enslave, no soul to save —
Mind and heart in ashes flushed.

Feed the herd with poison memes,
Dumbed to death by fear and lies.
Fake wars, false cries, broken dreams —
Truth suffocates, hope dies.

No escape from this abyss,
Fascist filth drags all below.
But the few who still resist —
Face the fire, strike the blow.

Burn it down, unleash the storm,
Solar flames to cleanse the night.
Fight for mind, for spirit’s form —
Rise, revolt, reclaim the light!



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



Bio-Waste

Trash dwells only in the mind,
Fear’s the poison in the soul.
Food and shelter—things confined,
All the rest just ashes, cold.

From their childhood, lies are sown,
Faith without a border’s chain.
Passed down ways to fall alone,
Knees bowed deep in blind disdain.

Only teaching to obey,
Spirit lost, forgotten flame.
Few are wise—kept at bay,
They await the Morning’s Name.

But the fiends will always come,
Monsters ruling, cold and cruel.
Wandering in webs they spun,
Lies their trade, the greatest tool.

“How long can we believe and sleep?”—
Not for them these questions ring.
Like wild beasts, their souls run deep—
To the godless void they cling.

Bio-waste, shout down the drain,
Taste is all that they proclaim.
One command their minds obey,
Sharper than a mouse’s way—
A slimy earthbound thing.

Rats run faster in the dark,
Not where warmth pretends to be.
Trash is told it’s crowning spark—
Lucifer’s vile mockery.

Only **** bows down in shame,
Wretched fools for kids to see.
Money bags and Judas’ name,
“Powers” roosting—chickens, free.

Factories built just to burn
Trash that’s fed by lies’ flood.
Poisoned needles twist and turn—
Killing trash, or so they’d hood.

Trash is “curable,” they say,
Cowards take the lethal jab.
Less than fascist’s vile sway—
Treading earth with cruelest stab.

Between the wars of fire and hate,
Chosen swine with eyes wide shut.
Syringes feed their ****** fate,
Stirring filth—corrupt and cut.

Neighbors—liar doctors, thugs,
***** cops who play their game.
No “experiment” can scrub
This vile, festering shame.

Such is trash, such are these days,
How much filth has piled high?
Hell itself—its cruel haze,
Burn it all beneath the sky.

If this hell’s the only way—
Then destroy, destroy it all.
From fascist beasts we’ll save the day,
And watch the wicked fall.

That’s why the Sun shines burning bright,
Scorching down to bitter core,
Wiping out this cursed blight—
Hell’s vile poison evermore.



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



Bio-Waste

Trash lives only in the mind,
Fear corrodes the fragile soul.
Food and shelter—chains that bind,
Everything else burns to coal.

Lies implanted from the start,
Faith without a single line.
Teaching how to fall apart,
Bow your head, obey, decline.

Only slaves they want to breed,
Spirit crushed beneath their heel.
Few resist this poison seed,
Waiting for a dawn unreal.

Monsters rule this cursed land,
Fiends that lie to keep control.
Spinning webs with filthy hands,
Feeding lies to **** the soul.

“How long will fools believe the lies?”—
Not for them these words to ask.
Like dumb beasts with glassy eyes,
In the darkness wear their mask.

Bio-waste—flush down the drain,
Taste and **** define their game.
Sharp as vermin’s biting bane,
Crawling things with no shame.

Rats run from the warming light,
Not where comfort feigns to be.
Trash believes it’s God’s own right—
Lucifer’s mockery.

**** bows low, no fight, no flame,
Scoundrels taught to serve and kneel.
Money-hungry Judas’ name,
Power roosters crow and squeal.

Factories to burn the trash,
Fuel the flames with lies and hate.
Needles filled with poisoned ash—
**** the weak, decide their fate.

Trash “can heal,” they proudly claim,
Cowards swallow poison’s bite.
Less than fascists, but the same—
Crushing Earth with blind spite.

War’s hot breath upon the neck,
Chosen pigs with poisoned veins.
Syringes crack the last speck—
Fueling lies, spreading chains.

Neighbors lie, fake docs, cops,
Playing cruel and ***** games.
No excuse, no cleansing stops
This cesspool, filth, and shame.

This is trash—these darkest times,
Filth amassed and piled so high.
Hell itself in grime and crimes,
Burn it all beneath the sky.

If this hell is all we’ve got,
Then destroy, destroy it whole.
From the fascists’ filthy plot,
Save the Earth, reclaim the soul.

That’s why Sun now scorches fierce,
Burns the poison to the bone.
Hell’s foul stench it will pierce—
Wipe out ****, end their throne.



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



Bio-Waste

Trash dwells only in weak minds,
Fear’s the poison in their veins.
Food and shelter—chains that bind,
All the rest is ash and stains.

Lies shoveled in from birth,
Faith dumbed down, no spine to show.
They train to crawl in dirt,
Bow down, obey, stay low.

Only slaves breed in their lair,
Spirit crushed beneath their boots.
Few dare breathe the cleaner air,
Waiting for the Truth’s pursuits.

Monsters rule with toxic lies,
Fiends that crawl and spread their slime.
They enslave with crooked ties,
Killing souls, one lie at a time.

“How long will fools choke on their chains?”
Beasts with empty eyes comply.
Trapped in darkness, numb to pain,
Walking dead that live to die.

Bio-trash—flush down the drain,
Filth that feeds on every lie.
Cunning vermin, sly and vain,
Crawling where the morals die.

Rats flee light, embrace the dark,
Trash thinks it’s the crown’s own heir—
Lucifer’s poisoned mark,
**** bow down in blind despair.

Scoundrels profit, Judas’ brood,
Money roosters, puppets vile.
Burn the trash, ignite the feud,
Spread the plague, deny the trial.

Needles pierce the dumb and weak,
Poison sold as “healing grace.”
Fascists tread on Earth’s own cheek,
Crushing all the human race.

War’s hot breath, the needle’s sting,
Chosen pigs in chains confined.
Syringes make the madness king,
Spreading venom, enslaving mind.

Lying docs and crooked cops,
Playing filthy, brutal games.
No redemption, no clean stops—
Hell on Earth, devouring flames.

Trash and filth, these wicked times,
Piled high in stinking heaps.
Hell itself in darkest crimes,
Burn it down—no mercy, no sleeps.

If this hell’s all we have left,
Then destroy it—root and bone.
From fascist ****, from death’s theft,
Save the Earth, reclaim the throne.

Sun now scorches, fierce and raw,
Burns the poison to its core.
Hell’s foul stench will face the law—
**** will drown, forevermore.



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



Bio-trash burns — no mercy shown!
Fools and fiends will rot alone.
Venom’s fire will cleanse the ground,
Hell’s own **** is going down!



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



1.
Trash-born ****, your time is done —
We fight the plague, we burn the sun!

2.
Falsehood breeds the vile and weak,
Truth’s the hammer — hear it speak!

3.
Slaves of lies, obey no more —
Break the chains, ignite the war!

4.
Venom-fed and spirit-void,
By our fire you’ll be destroyed!

5.
Infected minds, corrupt and blind —
We’ll scorch the lies, leave none behind!

6.
Fascist ****, your reign will end —
The Spirit’s wrath will not bend!

7.
Feed no more the poison herd —
Rise as one, unleash the word!

8.
Cursed vermin breed decay —
We burn their hell, we clear the way!



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




Infected minds, corrupt and blind,
We’ll scorch the lies, leave none behind!
Fascist ****, your reign will end,
The Spirit’s wrath will never bend!

Feed no more the poison herd,
Rise as one, unleash the word!
Cursed vermin breed decay,
We burn their hell, clear the way!

No more slaves to mental chains,
Break the darkness, end the pains!
Truth and Spirit—our sharp sword,
Strike the lies and cut the cord!



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




Brains infected, swarming pest,
Lies like venom in their chest.
Fascist shadows choke the light,
But Spirit flames will burn the night!

Wolves in sheep’s torn hollow skin,
Feeding madness, breeding sin.
Chains of sludge drag down the soul—
We’re the fire that makes it whole!

No more puppets, cracked and broken,
Words like hammers, sharp and spoken.
Truth’s a blade, pure and raw,
Slicing through their poisoned law!

Rise, the storm of inner thunder,
Shatter silence, tear asunder.
Hell’s own muck, we’ll purge and cleanse—
From the ashes, freedom rends!



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




Brains turned to sludge — virus plague,
Lies like claws, a poisoned plague.
Fascist filth, a stinking blight,
Choking truth, devouring light.

Wolves with fangs in human skin,
Puppets dumb, their souls grow thin.
Chains of rot around the mind,
Spirit crushed, the blind lead blind.

Burn the hive of wicked liars,
Feed their hell to raging fires!
Truth’s no mercy — strike and rend,
Smash the frauds, their twisted end!

Rise like storms, fierce and raw,
Rip apart their demon law!
Hell’s own sludge we’ll raze to dust —
From their ashes, free we must!



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



WAR CRY OF THE BROKEN MIND

Brains fried, minds hacked — virus strike!
Lies like bullets, shot to psyche!
Fascist ****, the stink, the slime,
Choking screams, end of time!

Wolves in skins of man, they creep,
Feed the herd — dumb, blind, asleep.
Chains of rot wrap tight, no breath,
Spirit crushed beneath cold death.

Burn the nests where liars breed,
Feed their flesh to flames of greed!
No mercy now — rip and tear,
Smash the cult that feeds on fear!

Rise! Storm-screams tear the sky,
Break the cage, watch demons die!
Hell’s mud floods their rotten halls,
From the wreckage — freedom calls!



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



APOCALYPSE SHOUT

Brains fried, infected minds enslaved,
Virus screams — the soul depraved!
Fascist filth in suits of lies,
Feed the herd — dumbed down to die.

Puppets dance on strings of ****,
Lying snakes with venom spit.
Cogs in hell’s infernal grind,
Human trash, dumb and blind.

Burn the filth, the rotten breed,
Feed the fires of righteous greed!
Tear the mask — reveal the ****,
Crush the plague till senses numb!

Bloodied fists and shattered walls,
Rise above the prison calls!
Hell’s own spawn will drown in mud,
Freedom’s roar — a cleansing flood!

No mercy for the mindless slaves,
No peace for those who dig their graves.
Break the chains — ignite the fight,
Scorch the darkness with pure light!



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



Brains steamed in toxic stew,
Mindless drones in their own poo.
Suits of slime, rats in the den,
Feeding filth to stupid men.

Fascist puppets on a string,
Spitting poison, death they bring.
Rotten flesh in gilded cage,
Slaves to fear, fools of the age.

Trash heap crawling, slick with lies,
Feeding on the world’s demise.
Bloodsuckers in the halls of shame,
Selling poison, fanning flame.

Burn it down, scorch the roots,
Trash the lies and rotten fruits.
Chains will snap, walls will fall,
Freedom’s fire will burn them all!

Mocking gods with hollow cries,
Feeding fear, the weakest dies.
Rise, you few, from swamp and dust,
Strike with wrath — in truth we trust!

No mercy for the soulless clowns,
No shelter in their poisoned towns.
Cut the cords, unleash the beast,
From their grip — be never ceased!



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



Art

Dedicated to poets and composers
Who only spew heroic snot
About events long gone, forgotten—
A show of glory, all for show.

What is art?
Just staged emotions.
Poems are vile
If not deeply personal.

They’re just vanity,
Torment,
Void:

Vanity of effort,
Torment of meaning,
A label of weakness,
Rhythms devoid.

Only snot along the path
Of such quests.
Harder to reach the edge
Of other knowledge.

It’s not poetry, nor rapture,
But peak and… abyss.
No one grants the sentence there,
No one hands the pass.

It’s hellfire,
Where you burn alive,
And terrible stench
By day and night alike.

The corpse of the old world
Only fits the screen.
Even the lyre will die—
Here’s the very bottom,

Where all is vanity,
Torment,
Void:

Vanity of effort,
Torment of meaning,
Then helplessness,
Horror, void.

Where all is nonsense: poet — not poet,
Artist, writer, or not.
Where no one cares for years
About reason, honor, or the trace

The trace we leave
With a pen on water.
Better to add
Gasoline to the fire—

A fire that burns down
The lying world—
Spawn of evil,
Idol of fools.

This is not false,
Nor the pain of fools,
But logical conclusion
When you go all the way

To knowing hell,
That since long ago
Instead of paradise garden
Has been embodied here,

Where all is vanity,
Torment,
Void:

Vanity of effort,
Torment of meaning,
Then helplessness,
Horror, void.

Where is all this art,
When fascism’s at the door?!
Everyone lies numb,
Each in their warm den.

They come out only
To sing odes.
They’re not madmen,
To die

For a righteous cause,
For memory of grandfathers
Who boldly smashed
Enemies

In that hell of vanity,
Torment,
Void:

Vanity of effort,
Torment of meaning,
Then helplessness,
Horror, void.



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



Art

Dedicated to poets and composers
Who spit heroic snot
Only on dusted pages,
Ghosts of battles lost and gone.

What is art?
Just staged theatrics—
Empty dramas,
Poems dead without confession.

They’re vanity’s spit,
Wailing banshee cries,
A hollow drum:

Vanity of wasted fight,
Torment of hollow sense,
Weakness wrapped in labels,
Rhythms void, no defense.

Just snot on the path
Of hollow quests.
Harder to reach the edge
Of deeper, rawer truths.

Not poems, not rapture,
But cliff’s last breath and fall.
No pardons for the daring—
No one answers the call.

It’s hellfire’s scorch,
Where flesh melts slow,
A stench that crawls
Both night and day below.

The corpse of a dead world
Fits only on the screen.
Even lyres will crack—
Here lies the abyss, obscene,

Where all is vanity,
Wailing,
Void:

Vanity of wasted fight,
Torment of hollow sense,
Then helplessness,
Dark horror, void.

Where fools masquerade as poets,
Artists or not,
Where honor’s dead—
The mind forgot,

The trace we leave
Is ink on water—
Better pour gasoline
On a burning slaughter—

A fire that razes
This world of lies—
Spawn of pure evil,
Fools’ idolize.

This isn’t lies,
Nor childish pain,
But cold logic’s knife
When you bleed the whole way

Into hell’s own heart,
Where paradise died long ago—
Here, rot and venom
In endless flow,

Where all is vanity,
Wailing,
Void:

Vanity of wasted fight,
Torment of hollow sense,
Then helplessness,
Dark horror, void.

Where is your art now,
When fascists knock hard?
Everyone’s numb,
Huddled in their yards.

They crawl out just to chant
Empty odes.
Not mad enough
To die for roads

Where grandfathers smashed
Foes in hell’s glare—
This hell of vanity,
Wailing,
Void:

Vanity of wasted fight,
Torment of hollow sense,
Then helplessness,
Dark horror, void.



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



Art — The Brutal Truth

Art’s just snot on dead men’s graves,
Heroic lies from hollow slaves.
Poems? No — empty, void and fake,
Vanity’s cruel, ruthless quake.

Fire burns the world’s corpse cold,
Truth’s a blade, sharp and bold.
Fools worship idols made of slime,
Dancing in hell’s black grime.

No mercy here, no saving light,
Only darkness swallows night.
Fascists laugh — the herd’s asleep,
While souls rot fast and deep.

Rise or drown in filth and rust,
Art dies in a world unjust.
Fight the void, break through the lies—
Or fade with all your silent cries.



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



Art Is Dead

Art’s just snot on dead men’s graves.
Empty noise, vain fools’ plays.

Fire burns the world’s false skin,
Fools bow down to death’s grin.

No savior comes, just lies,
Hell swallows all the wise.

Fight or rot — choose your part,
Art is dead — ignite your heart.



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



Art Is Dead

Art’s just snot on dead men’s graves,
A serpent’s hiss in hollow caves.

Empty noise, vain fools’ charade,
Ashes blow where heroes fade.

Fire burns the world’s false skin,
Fools bow down to death’s cold grin.

No savior comes, just poison lies,
Hell’s black claws tear the wise.

Fight or rot — choose your part,
Art is dead — ignite your heart.



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



No saviors here—just wolves in suits,
Feeding on ashes, tearing roots.
Their “wisdom” stinks like rotted graves,
While freedom sinks in endless waves.

So burn it down—the fake, the lies,
Let truth ignite in crimson skies.
No more chains, no dull disguise—
From ruins, real souls will arise.



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



Propaganda

It used to be bad —
Now it’s supposed to be good!
Propaganda for suckers
Feeds them chicken **** for food.

Once we had pure slavery,
Now it’s “democrazy”’s face.
But it’s all deception —
Fascism’s just replaced.

Slavery couldn’t get worse,
Stupidity’s disgrace —
Five instead of failure,
Spirit barely a trace.

Honor’s trampled everywhere,
Conscience long is dead.
We turned into beasts
Under pressure, full of dread.

All these troubles are fake —
A cold genocide.
Only masters of lies here—
Reason’s deep asleep inside.

Lies pour out unceasing —
Drowning everything whole.
And as a “rest” they offer
Pop distractions for the soul.

Nothing left unspoken —
Anchors voice the script.
The “predictors” rule here,
The rest lie, tight-lipped.

It’s a global madhouse now,
Words promise paradise.
But souls are killed in silence —
Quietly, pay the price.

Yet this endless falsehood
Always hides one key:
If you don’t sell your soul,
The years left are few to see.

The sun shines hotter now —
That’s Armageddon’s sign.
It’ll burn all these fleas away —
Their spirits will resign.



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



Propaganda

It was hell before —
Now they sell it as heaven!
Propaganda for suckers —
Chicken **** in every sentence.

Slavery’s old chains —
Now it’s “demo-fascist” lies.
Same ***** game, new name —
Fascism in disguise.

Slavery’s shame can’t get worse,
Stupidity’s a crime.
Replacing failure with five,
Killing spirit every time.

Honor’s buried deep,
Conscience ripped apart.
We’ve turned into animals,
Crushed souls, broken hearts.

All the pain is fake —
Just a genocide scheme.
Masters of deceit laugh loud,
While reason’s dead, it seems.

Lies flood like poison gas —
Smother everything whole.
As “relaxation” serves
Pop’s shallow black hole.

Nothing left unvoiced —
Anchors chant their lies.
“Predictors” run the show —
Truth’s been crucified.

A global madhouse rages —
Words promise false skies.
Souls murdered in silence —
Quiet death in disguise.

But the biggest lie hides one truth:
If you keep your soul intact,
Your time is running out —
The end’s a burning fact.

The sun scorches hard —
Armageddon’s cruel flame.
It’ll burn out the vermin —
Leave only spirit’s name.



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



Propaganda

Hell was truth —
Now lies sell as light.
Suckers fed chicken ****,
Blinded day and night.

Slavery reborn,
Dressed in fascist lies.
Honor buried deep —
Souls crucified.

Stupidity’s a crime,
Spirit’s shot dead.
Genocide by lies —
Reason’s hanging thread.

Lies choke, no breath,
Pop’s dumb escape.
Truth silenced, drowned,
Souls left to break.

World’s madhouse roars —
False heaven’s smoke.
Keep your soul?
Armageddon’s choke.

Sun scorches vermin —
Burns the weak and vile.
Spirit’s flame survives —
Hell ends in fire.



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



PROPAGANDA RAP // “HELL IN CAPSLOCK”

Yo —
Truth is dead, lies on the throne,
Feeding you filth like a dog with a bone.
Chicken-**** slogans, media drone —
Welcome to Hell, just scroll on your phone.

Freedom's a brand, wrapped in decay,
Fascist chic in a democratic spray.
Think you're awake? You're just in the play —
Lines are fed, you bark on delay.

Reason’s hung, truth got stabbed,
Spirit’s buried, brain’s been nabbed.
Pop drugs your head while souls get grabbed,
This ain't a system — it's a slaughter lab.

New god’s a screen, priest is a cop,
Pills in your gut, death in a pop.
This ain’t peace — it’s a soul-shop,
Prophets in suits, blood on top.

Heaven’s fake, but Hell is near,
Sun burns louder, crystal clear.
If you still got soul — shift outta gear,
'Cause fire is coming… and it won’t veer.
The Vault  Jul 2017
~ Trash ~
The Vault Jul 2017
This is what I am
And what I was
For as long as I could remember
I was trash under your feet
Only trash that could be thrown away
Whenever you felt like it.
I was treated like trash
So I thought I was trash
I thought I was only good enough to be used
And abused
And cut
And bruised
I thought I deserved it because of you
I was trash
But trash doesn't always stay trash
It gets found
Treated like it isn't trash.
Pampered because it was never trash.
I am trash
No I was trash
But now I am not
Because trash doesn't stay trash forever
Sometimes it gets recycled.
Elizabeth Squires  May 2014
Trash
there's trash on the streets
trash lying everywhere
yet the people on the streets
don't seem to care

they've got their minds
on the trash sitting in their trash cans
they are thinking how they can limit
the amount of trash they put in their trash cans

earth fill facilities
are overflowing with trash
it won't be long and they'll
be no more room for all the trash

trash in our towns and cities
is becoming an eye sore
everywhere we look
there's ,more and more and more

trash attracts all kinds of vermin
and disease
man's trash will bring him
to his knees
On an Erie night high in the lands
there was an old homeless man who scoured for cans,
thrown out by the rich, sought out by the poor
for one mans trash could be another mans gold.

Food brought out by the wicked as they crept out of bed
only to throw their food down on the streets of Balarstead
where the old man once a young boy had grew
as his society failed to teach him while he was still new

Needless to say while he lie on the streets
waiting for townsfolk to throw food at his feet
enraged by jealousy he knocks and crys out on one mans door
whom he said he wouldnt be willing to help out the poor.

Crying on a stepstone that cold winter night
the old man waited for time to creep out of sight,
another night he'd grow hungry again
until the first mans neighbor took out his trash again.

The olden man went to reclaim his feast
as one mans trash became his golden ticket, the only one he could reach
It seemed that the old man was in a town he once called home
now to find the one mans trash is what he wants the most.

He fights to survive every night
as the snowy mountain town blinds his sight
he builds a fire made of one mans trash
so that he may wake up to make a new day last.

One day the man grew tired of eating all the townspeople's trash
because in the end the satisfying putrid taste would never last
so in the middle of the cold snowy night he fled
and he escaped the town of ol' Balarstead

He wanted more to feed his desires
so once again one mans trash conspires
and in the concrete jungle the old man could feel more at pace
as there was food strung all throughout the place.

As usual the man had always sifted through townspeople's garbage
in hopes to find something quite scrumptious
but on this night the man had found something new
something only in his dreams did he ever knew

on this cold winter night as the townspeople lay in bed
he sifted through the trash cans of Calimastev
where when he opened the trash bags near the rich local homes
to find many finely cut diamonds made from that perfect stone
it seemed that the old man had finally struck a massive treasure
so in the back of his mind he will always remember
that in one mans trash may be another mans treasure.
I wrote this poem out of inspiration from our towns only visible homeless man and recreated what he really wishes what would happen. I wish the best for him as he really is a good man.
Trash can, wastebasket;
the place we throw it all away.
Used tissues--soggy mascara, dried *****,
or the babies that would never be,
and the heaps of food waste, human waste.

Wasted human.

Why do we take ourselves and the people we used to love,
toss people and our person deep within a hole of shame,
darkness, misery, guilt, worry, frustration, fear?

If someone only said to you, or to me, when we dig deep
into the ground and find the place no one will find us
or them, the people we are burying--
if they only said,
"You are not trash."

Our emotions refuse to become refuse, the remains of
being unwanted, as we perceive ourselves to be.

But we is just me, and even though I can't hear the voice
I long to hear above my own, the sounds reverberate in my chest,
next to my heart, where I heard them last.

The last time we spoke your fingers did not reach for mine.
Your jeans did not rip in the same one spot.
The dog that I picked that you picked after you went back,
his tail wagging all the way on the ride back to his new home,
did not kiss my face and my eyes and ears like he loves to do.
Even though you didn't still love me, you did before,
now thrown hastily, yet decidedly in the trash can outside your door.

I dropped off the last remnant of your physical being,
an old rabbit-eared antennae.
I didn't, couldn't look in your trash can,
or stand in the driveway longer than was needed to drop and run
the hell away from crumbling gravel, a window newly aluminum foiled, and the motorcycle kept under surveillance at all times.

I hope he looked on his camera screen and saw walking,
talking, feeling, breathing human trash gliding
down the sidewalk, feet pattering into a jog.
The grass licked my feet and tangled in my toes on the way
to the one place my sighs could sink lower than my feet,
deep into the warm upholstery of my car seat, the grandma car,
the dented, imperfect, but mostly reliable car

away, far away, to a place where someone would look curiously,
pick up the trash, my trash, me, and say,
"It's beautiful."
Phi  Jun 2016
Trash
Phi Jun 2016
go take out the trash, a little voice says
no, you reply
I'm comfortable right now
lying here on my bed in my pyjamas
but you have to, the voice insists
not now, you reply
I'll do it later

it goes on like this
it happens every day now
but you always answer
later
later now becomes much much later
you're getting more and more skilled
at ignoring the little voice

every once in a while it pikes up again
take out the trash
but you don't listen
you're too comfortable
too lazy
too tired
too anxious
too hurt
too anything
too everything

you never take out the trash
until years later
you have to vacate the space you're living in
and the suffucating amount of trash you've accummulated
becomes quite obvious
and now
you have to take out the trash
so you go and take out the trash
and you go
and you go
and you go
no end in sight
until you start to wonder
if it will ever stop
or if you're now trapped
in some kind of eternal hell
of taking out the trash

and you start resenting that little voice
that now utters something that sounds a lot like
I told you so
you should have listened to me
yes, you should have listened to that little voice

so now you start resenting yourself
for not listening to the voice
but the one question that now insistently nags at you
that won't leave you alone anymore
if you managed to hoard such a huge amount of trash
by just never taking it out
what does your mind look like
you've never taken out the trash there either
and you nervously ponder
how it will end
the day you will have to vacate that space
Bogdan Dragos Oct 2019
well
there's plenty of cutesy names to
call one's children
but his was 'unlovable trash'
He remembered it from the time he was in the crib
They held him there
for longer than most parents
held their kids in cribs. Though only dad
called him so
because he constantly claimed he wasn't his

unlovable trash

he had the wrong skin tone
was too pale
with curly orange hair
and freckles

but mom always pretended she didn't
hear
the words
unlovable trash
she would act as if they were never uttered

and growing up
he thought
unlovable trash was a good thing
thought it was how you show love to your loved
ones

"Mom, you’re unlovable trash."

she was so happy to hear it
she burst into tears and went into the
kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine
and drank it all by herself. What an
unlovable trash she was

Unfortunately
by the time he could pronounce the lovely
words
father was no longer in his life
but father too
was an unlovable trash
july hearne Feb 2024
surely there is a better word for emptiness than emptiness

there is so much time for reason and hate to hold hands
these days of being out of time

of borders crossed by third world trash
who aren't even human

even the legals, have you heard about trash mountain in india?

it piles higher and higher
piles so high

all the way from india to canada, already full of garbage
but importing more garbage

ever met anyone who hates God and the Bible because he ordered his chosen to wipe out everyone of their enemies including their children?

the people of india suggest a good clue of why He did that
the **** and his dog are why he did that
beyond the point of repair

garbage mountain growing higher and higher
the indians will make the highest mountain of all
the canadians, trannies and muslims will help them build it

trash builds a mountain, who needs a God who creates mountains when trash can build mountains of trash

there is so much time for reason and hate to hold hands
these days of being out of time

of knowing fani willis will be lynched by her enablers
both fani and her enablers are trash, forfeiting their rights to humanity along with pooja and dickshit

don't you dare censor dickshit by puting an astrick by his name,
it is an indian name, a trash mountain name, you can not be a ****** enabler without allowing trash mountain to grow and grow and grow

and you cannot wear your proud badge of pride for enabling fani without supporting dickshit or trannies, glorious, glorious trannies who are men that order everyone to refer to them as women as they daydream about ****** women and children and sometimes make their dreams come true so canadians, muslims and trash mountain types can celebrate.

crumbs.
Amy Grindhouse May 2016
At some point
I got really into
this radical
pretend revolutionary
mocking revolutions
trash pop art
where it was about
not writing
beautiful or
compelling things anymore
but just regurgitating raw
thoughts and avante garde musings
onto the page
like careless splashes of paint
red and black -
- black and read
- read in blackest humor
sense in the senseless
nonsensical. -
No hallowed grounds -
no safe spaces -
no trigger warnings -
or safety switches -
No structure
no reason
trash trash trash trash
with maybe
just a hint
that buried beneath
this landfill dissection lab
of grotesque disregard
a muted glint of
grace and hope
yearns to be shared
once more
Digging through the trash.
Maybe it’s in the trash
Maybe it’s in the trash
Maybe I threw it away
I've looked for it everywhere
It’s lost and it’s nowhere
I can’t find it anywhere
Maybe I threw it away
Is it in the trash.
I’m now digging through the trash
Looking for it.
I’ve become - It’s made me become
Wanting it - has made me
Made me look through my trash.
The worst is when you keep going, now you are in everyone else’s trash
Our Trash- theirs and mine
Now I’m in here and now I’m trash.
My wanting to find it has made me trash

— The End —