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Robert Ronnow Mar 2019
Off the train I hit the streets
and start laughing. This is ridiculous,
incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds
have individual inner lives. Why are they doing
what they’re doing? I have no answer
New York City but to also go about my business
in this case prepare for surgery, survival.

But why survive with so many exact replicas
to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees,
social organisms they’re called, climbing
over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly
making way, anticipating the sudden turns
and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers,
sisters incubating, the cells of a small
*****, nodes of a single semi-conscious organism.

The concept of a higher power that cares
for me is also risible yet how else
can I explain the surgeon and his team,
robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines,
all primed and trained to save my life.
They are not particularly interested in what
I do with my time. I am immediately
in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse,

the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant.
The long extraordinarily thin
fingers of the famous surgeon. All
mine to savor (and the other cancer patients).
Back on the streets, rush to the train.
So many women to choose from! One
in fishnet stockings stands out, tall
calm, still, graceful. No cell, no hair, no hurry.

Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind
is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore,
meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other.
I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid
but realize those dead heroes
were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them.
Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results.
Hero accepting help.

A torrential rain following five days of flooding,
tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns
all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons.
None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be
(of our surgery). The best that can be said
is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might
as well believe in that higher power.
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--title from a tune by Billy Strayhorn
1THE DOWN drop of the blackbird,
The wing catch of arrested flight,
The stop midway and then off: off for triangles, circles, loops of new hieroglyphs-
This is April's way: a woman:
"O yes, I'm here again and your heart
  knows I was coming."
  
2White pigeons rush at the sun,
A marathon of wing feats is on:
"Who most loves danger? Who most loves wings? Who somersaults for God's sake in the name of wing power in the sun and blue on an April Thursday."
So ten winged heads, ten winged feet, race their white forms over Elmhurst.
They go fast: once the ten together were a feather of foam bubble, a chrysanthemum whirl speaking to silver and azure.
  
3The child is on my shoulders.
In the prairie moonlight the child's legs hang over my shoulders.
She sits on my neck and I hear her calling me a good horse.
She slides down-and into the moon silver of a prairie stream
She throws a stone and laughs at the clug-clug.
Hard light bathed them-a whole nation of eyeless men,
Dark bipeds not aware how they were maimed. A long
Process, clearly, a slow curse,
Drained through centuries, left them thus.

At some transitional stage, then, a luckless few,
No doubt, must have had eyes after the up-to-date,
Normal type had achieved snug
Darkness, safe from the guns of heavn;

Whose blind mouths would abuse words that belonged to their
Great-grandsires, unabashed, talking of light in some
******'d, etiolated,
Fungoid sense, as a symbol of

Abstract thoughts. If a man, one that had eyes, a poor
Misfit, spoke of the grey dawn or the stars or green-
Sloped sea waves, or admired how
Warm tints change in a lady's cheek,

None complained he had used words from an alien tongue,
None question'd. It was worse. All would agree 'Of course,'
Came their answer. "We've all felt
Just like that." They were wrong. And he

Knew too much to be clear, could not explain. The words --
Sold, ***** flung to the dogs -- now could avail no more;
Hence silence. But the mouldwarps,
With glib confidence, easily

Showed how tricks of the phrase, sheer metaphors could set
Fools concocting a myth, taking the worlds for things.
Do you think this a far-fetched
Picture? Go then about among

Men now famous; attempt speech on the truths that once,
Opaque, carved in divine forms, irremovable,
Dear but dear as a mountain-
Mass, stood plain to the inward eye.
Aaron Mullin Oct 2014
Losing a tail
Is like losing a rudder
Like losing a ballast
Stability must be found elsewhere
As a quadruped there are four points of contact
A biped has only two
How do we replace that stability?
With aspiration

~ Extinct ~
**** erectus
and
**** neanderthalensis

~ Extant ~
Hominids
Great Apes
Primarily lumbering along on all fours
Quadrupedal
Except Us
**** sapiens

What mechanism allowed for bipeds?
Natural selection?
Or a naturally selected collective vision
Through collective perspiration

Art is used to mine dream-time
Inspiring the masons among us
The art is the plan
The architecture is built upon
And the builders perspiration
Leads to the built environment
How do you cap it?
Egyptians used a capstone

Aspiration
Leading to
Inspiration
Leading to
Perspiration
Leading to

A
Spire
Naturally
Helen McKean Aug 2011
a perfect, newly unveiled horizon line
ancient and promising
yet reborn as a newborn
to my industrialized eyes.

I haven’t heard sirens in days.

still, there is the hustle and bustle
of movement everywhere,
but not by people
nor Porsches and Escalades
and their infiltrating thick smog.
no inane chatter
and fake oohing and aahing
over Louis’ and who saw who.

no
here the possessions move
the so-called inorganic
the buildings, doors, and gates
yearning to be free
swaying, creaking
their tiny reins of confinement
too much to bear
for their free spirits.
taking their cue
from trees, plants, vines, leaves
which are overgrowing fences
and clambering over walls
a massive riotous uprising at a glacier-pace
to triumph over the bipeds
imagine the horror of the flora
at a sudden interment to La-La-Land
the hopelessness and oppression
at being trimmed twice a week
mutilated and then slaughtered.

no
they are the secret underground rulers
stubbornly proud but humble tyrants
mercifully loving their lowly subjects
feeling sorry for us
we who have been forced into
this unnatural industrial order
not their beautiful chaos.

and yet...
they lie in wait
patiently, silently
anticipating the day
when we throw up our arms in exasperation and relief
and acquiesce to their dominion
a return to times before times.
Alan McClure Oct 2013
Grim grey day
starts in the dark,
grumbles, glowers
shoulders hunched
Everyone in bitter agreement -
"Miserable!"
Rain driven against windows,
streaming pavements,
shoe-squelched curses
cast at baleful sky.

Travelling home at last,
raincoat defeated
tricklebacked discomfort,
Windscreen wipers ten to the dozen
under sopping sorrowful trees,
headlights strobing relentless rain

And -

Those aren't leaves.
What are they?
Tumbling across the road,
crisscrossing parabolas
of peculiar joy

Frogs!

I stop:
I have to.
The night is alive
with manic delight
as secret creatures fling caution to the wind
and bound into sight,
into frantic celebration,
unphased by cars, by foolish bipeds
who thought this planet was theirs -

Open mouthed and uninvited
I gaze, displaced and foolish
for not knowing
It is,
it is the most beautiful night
that could possibly be imagined.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2019
One should never regret coming away
From any crowd, and certainly not now:
Their loving voices are raised in chants of hate
And their funny hats aren’t funny at all

Their ultimate freedom is the freedom to
Obey with love the loudest loving leader
Who twists their supplicant hands to fists of love
For beating harmony into us all

One will never regret coming away
From any crowd, and certainly not today
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
The Dedpoet Mar 2016
And I answered:
To see and touch all that I forgot,
To remember the delta where
Immense waters rushed to
My memory's melodic forms.
     To remember that ***** that
     Broke my heart,
     How I loved her,
     Look at all the poems
     I wrote for her!
To feel the livid wounds
Of everyone fester about
Like domesticated bipeds,
Watch them grow entangled
Beneath a shivering sun.
        To read the crazy beautiful
        Of other people's thoughts
        And get in their heads without
        Psychological babblings
        And manipulation.
To watch the shadowless sun
Create a phantom city
In the concrete swarms,
To stretch every sense
Into the living moment.
      To catch myself from splitting,
      Or perhaps to split from myself
      And call me crazy,
      Laugh it off and cry
      When I read it again.
To embody what I miss
With these fucken cell phones
And internet opinions
With elongated voices
Lonely, their kind of
Misery loves company after all.

      Why the poem?
      Ask yourself,
      What else is there??
To Poetry.
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
I'm waiting with certain trepidation
Assured my reality
Is in for something big.

The eleventh dimension
Can't assuage my dread.
There's something happening,
As big as Dead.

The cellphone's our new Nativity,
Destroying my old myths;
Where's the white salamander hurrying,
Spirits hoovering, aliens lurking,
Hairy bipeds in the forests,
Yetis in the snow.
Nothing soon forthcoming.
It all looks like Alberta.

I can't snap inside the sun,
Nor freeze-frame a revolution;
Or the moment one feels love;
But truth is self-evident.
And the facts are yet to come.

All the best stories,
My life-changing beliefs,
Need one still, a black and white will do;
Til then,
I'll suspend
Disbelief,
And sustain credence,
Close to the dark room.

Then we'll be the Magi,
Bowing, grovelling,
Awed and surprised.
The Nativity: Poem by John Milton decrying the loss of his myths because of the birth of Jesus.
Helen Nov 2013
There it was just sitting
in the middle of the street
all black and white
waiting
for traveling feet

Herds of milling bipeds
traversed across it
as it stretched across
a sweltering pit of tar

While masses of
Auto.. mo.. biles
broke it’s back
wait
I think...
they call them...
Cars?

I just stood back

Watching

Waiting

Wondering


just contemplating

But still…
I was at a complete loss

I keep a vigil at the curb
waiting
for the zebra to come
and wondering…

*how do they know where to cross?
Brandon Mar 2012
I saw five blackbirds perched on a telephone wire at six am
They were black as the blackest of nights and as big as Caterpillars
They were looking down on cars taped over with blowing plastic bags
Floating in the hot pink wind like tornadoes made from lipstick
Their talons were long daggers looking to pierce the deepest part of my heart
To open my eyes with their meandering meaningful meaningless
They had shipwrecks adorning each obsidian feather and crooked teeth
Capped the nightmares that lurked behind the glare of their eyes
They watched solemnly at the scene below of closing doors
Of rustling papers and stained tears tarring the summer ground
They had secrets cawed in a language of screeched whispers
Warning and educating ears that were too deaf or too self involved to listen
We’ve got no chance to escape this drudgery of modernity
We’re stuck in this self-built prison of black and white prisms
Of three dimensional reasoning and the attitude that follows
Never meant to be but it’s what it is when we think we’re free
How can the one blind bird perceive things differently
If our shortsighted near-death experiences have left us numb
Numbing us to the presence of the stars in the morning sky
Or the Sun exploding torrents of fire during the night
Wrapping us in a chilly warmth like blankets soaked with gasoline
We've left ourselves to wander the desolate land thinking of the obscene


I saw five blackbirds blacking out the sun as they took to the sky
Laughing their murderous laugh at the awkward bipeds down below
Aztec Warrior Oct 2015
LISTENING

Poetry is so strange;
like a stiletto sharp moon
it shines our hearts
with midnight wonders.
And, by its glow I read,
"our deep cosmic loneliness
and our starboard hearts
where love careens,
we are listening,
the small bipeds
with the giant dreams."


Yes D.A., we are listening
to the pulsar songs
played in the universe.
We are listening
for others,
who just may be listening for us.

Seduction is like this you know;
subtle, uncertain,
even fragile at times;
yet irresistable as Lilacs
beckoning the moon.
Seduction is also a
summer down pour
we willingly get caught in,
jumping greedily
in puddles,
laughing,
just happy to be together.
We listen to the patterns
water splashing made;
listen for others
to hear what they have to say,
even if they were many galaxies away.

*
We listen.
We wait, but not idly.
We listen, write poetry
sharp, like a stiletto moon.
And, under its midnight glow,
hold hands.


NOTE: the bold quoted lines are from a
poem called "We Are Listening", by
Diane Ackerman found in her book
entitled "Jaguar of Sweet Laughter".


*Aztec Warrior
Paul Butters Dec 2019
We watch from space
Safe in our spaceship
As a small rock planet,
That has orbited it’s star
Over seven and a half billion times –
All those billions of its years –
Is peeled away
And eaten
By that very sun
That gave it birth.

Two and a half billion years before,
This star ran dry of hydrogen
And grew
From yellow dwarf to red giant.

Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds,
All engulfed by flame
As the sun grew
Into a giant ball of death.
All history is gone.
Nothing to show
For countless civilisations
That adorned the third planet.

But oh what’s this?
We spot a tiny spacecraft!
Must reel it in.
Examine it.

It has a name:
“Voyager 1”
Inside: a Golden Disc!
A Golden Record.
We can play it.
Images of hairless bipeds.
Ancestors from that third planet.
Sounds of animals and someone laughing.
Images of bipeds taking sustenance.
And best of all
More sounds
Of something called “Rock Music”:
A being called “Chuck Berry”
“Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”.
For we have feet too
And it makes them tap.

Paul Butters

© PB 12\12\2019.
5 billion years hence, the sun will become a red giant.....
Maria Mitea Dec 2021
because it  burns  you
you don't like the sun
and the shadow doesn't buy a story,
It knows its edges and the milky ways,
attached to a leaf tail
chlorophyll counts its rays,
***** energy from its light,
- we grow elephant ears,
our heads have shrunk like the peak of a needle
bifurcated,
time does not lie
instead of being permanently bent
head
now it is one meter above the ground
hands / feet / thighs
we do everything we want in upright bipeds
yes,
to get out of africa
we walked thousands of years until we  picked up "the first thumb up"
then again we walked thousands of years,
we raised the thumb up again
thousands of years ... thumb (up) drive one gigabyte,

time does not lie

- i saw you at the țoțora in the polk of medhorotsky,
with the toma from brăila digging  ditches to keep your feet lower,
at a french carnival, you loved a girl and called her by the name
consuelo, mon amour, consuelo, - you wielded swords,
used feathers to write (with the blood) on a soap bubble
you were looking for

the time that does not lie

did you say:

- the night is just beginning to taste like molasses
- from afar, you see love like a bloated balloon lost in the distance
- to recognize the shape of the earth, i have to feel the stars beneath my feet,
to see the one above my head
- people are programmed to see faces even in sandwiches,
to believe strange things, that they can walk on the water or
like in little prince  to believe a talking fox: “though the eyes are eyes, they cannot see,
only the heart can,
tame a flower, and you”ll see that time does not lie ... ”
then what can you expect from the sun
when it burns like a madman in the wilderness and dances like a *****,

hallucinate

they say we are 13.7 billion light-years from the edge,
how  the sun not to like you when it heard you singing a song without a sound,
so simple and clear,
and now every morning it brings you a basket of jackfruit at the gate,

be ”the edge” truth or assumption,
”the foam that forms us and breaks into a vast cloud of styrofoam bbs” (Ken”s words)
who knows, otherwise
it seems that we are close to knowing the real shape of the earth:
jump up, fall on it, is  not  moving,
standstill and solid,
it doesn't matter which way you want to go
you can go in any direction
go far enough
go as far as you can
you will always reach the ocean

did you say:
- we live on an island
Sharon Talbot Nov 2019
There is a bay on the Oregon coast,
Shaped like a scallop shell
And ringed by rounded stones.
And from the darkening sky
Droop billows of blue and gray
Hanging and lit like Chinese lanterns.
Humans in the damp Northwest
Appear to drip from the clouds
In rain-washed colors
Of blue and violet,
Whose tattered clothes
Are softened and soaked
From ragged wool into rich satin.
Still others bask on shores
Of pebbles rolled by the sea,
Bone white and cloud-gray.
Down and up, down again
The light rays vault,
Painting bipeds into the land.
There are no reflections
But rather water in the air,
Looking like rain
Even on cloudless days.
Their world is saturated
Like the scarlet gowns
Of Waterhouse’s Ariadne
And the ponds of Monet,
Green as the British Isles,
Blue as the Aegean
And white as the Pantheon ruins .
Much like an ancient tomb,
The majesty of mortal lives
Commemorated in stone
Is here splashed in the air
And in every forest or cliff.
Hushing people into silence,
So they conduct the most
Serious customs in whispers,
Knowing how voices echo along
Water droplets
And mountain shadows.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            Mysteriou­s Jellyfish Gathering

                        “Honey, did you pack the seascreen?”

That jellyfish gathering is no mystery
Like everyone they want to go to the beach
To play in the water, soak up some rays
Picnic, show off, buy some souvenir mugs

They caution each other about the humans
How bipeds are toxic to the slightest touch
They gaze deeply at the sand beyond the surf
And talk about the mysteries of the air

They brush the sand out of the children’s tentacles
At sunset, before packing up and going home

Mysterious jellyfish gathering grows in Rhode Island ponds | Centre Daily Times
A poem is itself.
The Dedpoet Apr 2016
Its not my short legs,
Nor in my overgrown beard,
It's not the big nose
Or small pockets women fear.
It is the corny poem
For which I stand,
The kind of hopeful
Romanticism the women
Can't stand.
If is not in my furry kisses
Nor my nonsense of style,
It is the dork in my walk
That keeps them a mile,
I am a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenal dude,
That's me.

I do not have the body
The women might want,
The kind where my bipeds
I'd flaunt,
I haven't the coin
To release the swag,
Hell I'm still playing
Nintendo 64, not much to brag!
My T.V. is till a big box,
I have no women,
I got loneliness on lock.
I'm just a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenally dude,
That's me.

I'll finish this poem
With my last pathetic rhyme,
Maybe a chick will like it,
Like me this time!
I'll get a haircut to match
The style of now,
I'll become phenomenal,
I'll get there somehow,
But for now.....
Im just a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenal dude...
That's me!
Thanks Maya.
Satsih Verma Nov 2017
Don't speak the truth―
loudly. Bipeds
are listening.

I will not blame
any one ever,
for my poems.

I must invoke
Buddha, if he
was an avatar.

Rage again for
the dying sun. Night
was very cruel.
Amitav Radiance Oct 2014
When the landscape turned blurry
And the screaming eyes wanted help
Blinding wind raged across the streets
Famished bipeds drifting off course
Maimed souls searching for cover
Darkness became safe haven
Drained from the arduous trek for long
Attempt to speak the truth, gagged
Fools have created a web lies
Like unaware insects, caught unaware
Detained in the middle of huge mountains
Every will to escape is vanquished
The juices of willpower being ****** away
Hearts have turned to stone
Moulds have made their home
With glib talk everyone has been cheated
Away from the sunshine and hope
To the land of desolation and misery
In the land of apathy, they thrived
Victor D López Dec 2018
Flowers bloom next to rusting Pepsi cans,
Watered by the spit of ******* dealers,
And the ***** and vaginal fluid,
Of hot lovers groping under blankets,
Under stars dimly blinking through thick smog.

Nightly haven for muggers, rapists, fiends,
Whose every breath profanes the species they,
So poorly represent, turning Plato’s,
Featherless bipeds, to dead plucked chickens,
Soul-less, pointless wastes of protoplasm.

Abomination-- not in itself but,
For the use it’s put to: a bone for dogs,
Who’ve never tasted steak, and are gleeful,
To feast upon the scraps of fetid meat,
Clinging to well-gnawed bones that they are fed.

Central Park, the bone we are to chew while,
Smiling complacently at skyscrapers,
Daily rising where wild flowers might have grown,
Our humanity proportionally,
Shrinking inversely to their daily rise.

If I seem narrow minded and unkind,
Or blind to the beauty of Central Park,
It is because I’ve stood on ****** ground,
In summer, fall, winter and early spring,
And cannot bring myself to love a *****.
From: Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems (C) 2011
You can hear all six of my Unsung Heroes poems read by me in my podcasts at https://open.spotify.com/show/1zgnkuAIVJaQ0Gb6pOfQOH. (plus much more of my fiction, non-fiction and poetry in English and Spanish)
The Dedpoet Jul 2016
I stood upon the horizon
As the sun crowned the day,
The people became beautiful,
Each in their own momentary truth:

The sun star rose
And the light mounted the sea,
The livid wound that is man and woman
Became a broken statue in stone
Flawed by time and suffering;
Death in a time of life!

     In the city an ebony man
     Holds the pyramid at the bottom
     Of the scheme, he is unearthed
     By a bullet not colorblind,
     The song of a lost boy from
     The wonderful ghetto explodes
     And a stone is thrown.

The ripples are;
Eyes see, man feels
His heart yearns for better or
Something more, all he can turn
To is less, shadows of history link
Themselves in a chain and drag
Man into himself, there a giant
Mirror hovers over his sky.

    New York, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh.
    Shadow cover the heart and man
    Becomes a feverish animal
    That swarms himself,
    Proud and lonesome I see below
    His heart  and money uprooted his
    His natural flow
    (Domesticated bipeds acting out like
    Four legged beasts, though sadly
    Man knows it and does what?)

And yet there birthed within himself
Was given a gift so lovely as the forms
That man throbs with hope;
Stretching the heart into the living
hour man can see the light,
Truth comes into being
And fills himself with an ironic
Harmony. Here, now, we will
Never be this beautiful again,
The beauty is heavy with minutes
As each fade into eternity's
Shimmering river.

    Man's thoughts are split,
    They meander, think something
    Wondrous and split again
    Becoming entangled in a
    Delta of endless rivers flowing
    With the actions of ignorance.
    Must the rush of life be lived
    So rushed?

Day after day,
His mind cannot embody the forms,
The hostility grinding at each other,
The mirror inside liquefied
Into hopelessness and the body
Of his body becomes a tree
Of actions, risen out history's
Roots, roots which lay seeds,
Seeds which become his actions.
nivek Nov 2023
Bird and Whale love song's
masters of air and water;
(while bipeds listen in,
and wonder transports).
Patrick Harrison Apr 2020
Squirrel sits on the edge of the forest,
conflicted where the trees have gone.
Unknowing that the world is culling.

Somewhere often it knows the forest grows,
and sometimes, teetering the edge of the village it goes.

The light balance of the shrubs all around
does not correspond to his homeward ground.


Squirrel wanders a vacant field,
listening for the bird's songs.

He does not hear, or look, or react,
he walks until he stops to relax.

Then in the light of the field he sees
something that he can't believe.

A great and roaring star, falling from the heavens
to the world underneath him that cries and writhes.

He wonders what the light means, as it disperses across
the field, hearing the screech and the tumbling on the asphalt.

The ground collapses in several places as it flips into the field.

He walks over to the metal body in the dirt, stretching his
legs along the way to be ready to run.

But there is no danger, just suspicious little bumps of dirt,
and big metal pieces he doesn't understand.

His eyes carry on, peaceful and serene; examining everything.
Just trying to make sense of the wonder before him.

Community gone- to the life after, it
crinkles all the flowers in the darkness.

The bright red and orange lights flicker down the street.
The bipeds hustle to the husk before the heat consumes it.

Flipped on an axis, as squirrel looks on
a loud piercing call comes from the ground,
so away the squirrel rolls into the brush in fear.
To Be or Not to Be?

Forgive, forget — and rot in fear,
In lies, in filth — or strike the gear
Of CREATURES’ schemes, to make it clear:
You must defend the soul held dear!

The soul — or skin? That’s truly key.
All else is poses, blasphemy.
They flood the mind with mimicry —
While Darkness drains you endlessly,

***** loosh from those who blindly serve
The petty fiends with twisted nerve,
Who clone their madness, curve by curve —
Each cycle dumber, more perverse.

The soul’s collapse — that’s death indeed.
To rot and worship Earth as "creed,"
A stinking fool in thought and deed —
A slave of Trash, in spirit-need.

Awake! Resist! Aspire high!
No matter how the cowards lie —
The end is always still the same:
This skin will crumble into flame.

The Digital Camp is nearly here,
Built by the weak, the sick, the drear,
With broken will and shadowed mind —
So shout: "To HELL with Filth Designed!"



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




To rot in lies — or rise and fight?
The soul must blaze — or fade to night.
Say NO to Trash, to fear, to shame —
Or be a slave, devoured by Flame.



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




Obey — and rot. Resist — and be.
Your soul’s not fuel for tyranny.
Say **** their lies, their soulless game —
Let cowards burn in coded flame!



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



Manifesto: Soul or Slave

You kneel — you rot.
You doubt — you're caught.
You chase their rules —
You're sold and bought.

You call it peace?
It's death in slow.
Obeying fiends
That smile below.

The lies they breed
Are made to bind —
To **** your will,
To steal your mind.

You think you're free?
You own your fate?
You’re just a bug
In a coded state.

The Skins will burn.
The Souls will rise.
The war is real —
No sweet disguise.

No Savior comes.
No screen will save.
You're either flame —
Or data-slave.

So break their god,
Their sacred ****.
Their world of ash
Deserves NO wit.

Refuse. Rebuke.
Unplug. Resist.
Or you’ll be lost
In their Black List.



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



Black Flag with a Beam of Light Instead of Skull and Bones

Step by step — the path of might:
To seek the truth, destroy the lie.
A black flag pierced with beam of light
Means: Never run when Darkness’s nigh.

Walk the beam as on a road —
No clown tricks, no safety net.
This path is for the pure of soul,
Who stretch a moment into depth.

They scorn the smoky masquerade
That Darkness paints across the sky.
No theories help — no myths, no aid —
Be filled with self, and never lie.

All answers live inside your chest.
Ask questions that the Light ignites —
Not just to guess, but seek the best,
And never flinch from truth in sight.

The beam is thin — one slip, you fall —
As fast as ******* down a wall.
But rise again, admit your flaws,
And next time, stumble less — that’s all.

The road of Light is razor-clear.
Its law is simple: Walk it, true!
Abandon this decaying sphere —
No soul gets saved in such a zoo.



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




A beam on black — no skulls, no bones:
Just Light that cuts through lying thrones.
Step on the path — or rot below.
The soul is lost if you don’t go!



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




For the Cowards Who Stay

Stay in the dark — enjoy the rot.
No Light for you. No second shot.
You mocked the beam, betrayed the way —
Now choke in lies you called "okay."



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



Cries under the Flag of Light

1.
The beam is thin — but pure and true.
It leads beyond this dying zoo.

2.
They kneel in fog and beg for chains —
Then curse the sky for all their pains.

3.
No skull, no bones — just Light that burns
For those whose spirit still returns.

4.
A moment stretched — a soul awake.
No faith in gods — no rules to fake.

5.
You want no path? Then rot in place.
The void will kiss your fading face.

6.
Theories crumble. Fear will rust.
The only law: Become. Or dust.

7.
No one will save you. Walk or die.
The Light won't beg. The beam won't lie.

8.
Their "truths" are traps, their "world" — a cage.
The Light is war. The path — pure rage.

9.
Not for the loud. Not for the proud.
The beam speaks only to the bowed.

10.
Step up. Step through. Burn clean. Be still.
The Light obeys no lesser will.



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



BLACK FLAG OF THE BEAM
No skull. No bones. Just Light.


Prologue:

We raise no bones, no pirate sign —
But Light that cuts through every lie.
Our flag is black to mark the night —
Our path: a single thread of Light.

This beam is thin. This beam is fire.
It leads beyond the swamp, the mire.
It calls the few. It burns the rest.
This war begins inside your chest.


Battle Cries:

The beam is thin — but pure and true.
It leads beyond this dying zoo.

They kneel in fog and beg for chains —
Then curse the sky for all their pains.

No skull, no bones — just Light that burns
For those whose spirit still returns.

A moment stretched — a soul awake.
No faith in gods — no rules to fake.

You want no path? Then rot in place.
The void will kiss your fading face.

Theories crumble. Fear will rust.
The only law: Become. Or dust.

No one will save you. Walk or die.
The Light won't beg. The beam won't lie.

Their "truths" are traps, their "world" — a cage.
The Light is war. The path — pure rage.

Not for the loud. Not for the proud.
The beam speaks only to the bowed.

Step up. Step through. Burn clean. Be still.
The Light obeys no lesser will.


Final Formula:

To walk the Beam is not to win —
But to reject the rot within.
The soul alone must choose the flame —
Or vanish nameless, lost in shame.



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



Check, Check... and Soon — Checkmate

The “literary process”? Please.
It’s never real — just a disease.
One writes, alone. The rest’s a show:
The hype machine decides the flow.

And as for readers? What a crew —
Three-fourths are cretins through and through.
They swallow junk with glazed delight,
Their inner world — a sorry sight.

All’s ruled by clout and mass appeal —
In books, in politics, in "zeal"
For "science." Same old baited hook.
It makes you dream of rope — and look,

Here come the mugs — those soulless hacks,
With zero thought, and bloated stacks
Of “critics,” “papers,” all for hire —
Self-funded lies they so admire.

And some will whine: “The Soviet times
Were better — purer, more sublime…”
Shut up, you idiot. You forget:
That age was censorship and threat.

A hundred banned and deadly themes
Ensured that silence ruled your dreams.
And those who wrote — but wouldn’t lie —
Were forced to rot or dumbly die.

Or else — they'd tweak the Party slop,
Add “thought” like spice atop the slop,
And thus become — what irony! —
A traitor to sincerity.

This “literary process”? Dead.
The reader now? A walking head
Of mush — who can’t discern a line,
Yet babbles, "Brilliant! So divine!"

This is the world. And where it goes
Is downward fast — the darkness grows.
The blood runs cold, the end is black:
Checkmate is near.
For now — just check.



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




No process here, just empty noise,
Where fools applaud their hollow joys.
The past was chains — the present’s shame,
Check, check, then checkmate ends the game.



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



Poem of Protest
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Poem of Protest — Part 1

1. The Empty Stage
The playwright’s gone, the scripts are fake,
The crowd still cheers their own mistake.
A hollow dance on rotten floor —
No soul remains, just endless roar.

2. The Cult of Noise
They sell the lie, they buy the fraud,
Applaud the masks, applaud the clod.
Truth buried deep beneath the scroll —
The price? The death of every soul.

3. The Silent Killers
Critics vanish, words run dry,
While fools parade their alibis.
The pen is dead, the page is blank —
Yet fools still worship at the plank.

4. The Broken Mirror
Reflecting lies, distorted, cracked,
A world of truth forever lacked.
The mirror’s shards cut deep inside —
Where dreams and honor slowly died.

5. The Final Call
Awake or rot — the choice is yours.
The gates are closed, the iron roars.
The silent scream beneath the night —
A spark, a flame, or endless blight.


Poem of Protest — Part 2

6. The Puppet Show
Strings pull the crowd — they dance, unaware,
Who’s the master, whose cold snare?
Their voices whisper, empty, weak,
Held by those who build the mask they speak.

7. The Cult of Fame
They’ll sell their souls for empty light,
A fleeting glow on hollow height.
Where value’s built on lies and show,
No rules exist, no laws to know.

8. The Virus Words
Words like poison seep in veins,
Mindless spittle cloaks the plains.
Laughter masks the silent cries,
When weak is thought, and truth denies.

9. The Lost Horizon
Light is lost, and meaning gone,
Darkness lingers deep upon.
Yet in the heart, a spark remains —
A flame that wakes and breaks the chains.

10. The Last Resistance
Rise up, fight, believe no lies,
Their net’s a trap of shadows’ ties.
And though they scream, “No words remain!” —
We’ll be the light that breaks the chain.


Poem of Protest — Part 3

11. The Fading Light
The dimming spark in eyes once bright,
Extinguished now by endless night.
But even ash can flare and burn —
When souls decide it’s their turn.

12. The False Prophets
They preach their lies in gilded halls,
While justice crumbles, honor falls.
Their words are chains that bind the weak —
But truth is louder than they speak.

13. The Rotten Core
Beneath the mask, the rot begins,
A hollow shell of mortal sins.
No mask can hide the foul decay —
The stench of lies will rot away.

14. The Silent War
No guns, no bombs — just quiet death,
As falsehood steals our very breath.
A war of shadows, lies and schemes —
To **** the hope that fuels our dreams.

15. The Rising Flame
But from the ash a flame will rise,
A fire blazing through the lies.
No chains can hold the will to fight —
The soul’s rebellion ignites the night.


Poem of Protest — Final Part

16. The Breaking Chains
No more the lies that bind and blind,
No more the silence of the kind.
The soul breaks free — a storm is born,
To tear the veil, to shatter scorn.

17. The Reckoning
The gates will crack, the walls will fall,
The tyrants hear the rally call.
No more their puppets, no more their reign —
The people rise to break the chain.

18. The True Awakening
The dawn is born in hearts afire,
No cage can hold the fierce desire.
The light inside begins to swell —
A living force no lies can quell.

19. The New Horizon
Beyond the night, beyond despair,
A world rebuilt with utmost care.
Where truth and courage lead the way,
And darkness fades to break of day.

20. The Eternal Flame
So hold the torch, keep burning bright,
Defy the endless creeping night.
For in the soul, the flame survives —
The fire of all our fearless lives.



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




Chains are snapped — no more control.
The soul ignites, consumes the whole.
Tyrants fall — the people rise.
Light explodes — kills all their lies.

Dawn breaks fierce — no cage can hold.
The flame burns wild, defiant, bold.
Hold fast the torch, fight through the night.
The soul’s eternal, roaring light.



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



The Brain Does Not Create Consciousness

"It would be as absurd to deny consciousness to an animal because it lacks a brain, as to claim it cannot eat because it lacks a stomach."
— Henri Bergson


Consciousness lies beyond the brain,
The brain’s a mere conductor’s chain.
“Mechanism” — a threat disguised,
Yet people swallow it, unprized.

Spiritual truth’s beyond the mind,
Logic’s limits leave it blind.
“Knowledge” claims that dig so deep,
But drags the world into the cheap.

A crafted trap — artificial,
The more the madness grows in all,
The tighter Press of CREATURES’ thrall,
Darkness rules — false science’s call.

Consider well — the belly leads,
And cattle mind obeys those creeds.
So many cattle in the fold,
CowID shapes their dough, controlled.

Begin again — explore this shame,
This plague that drags down reason’s flame.
Disgrace has conquered every sphere —
If “You are flesh” is what you hear,

Then know — you’ve sunk beneath the line,
A sign you’ve reached the deepest brine.



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




Consciousness is not the brain,
Don’t bow to lies that cause your pain.
If you think “I’m just a shell,”
You’ve already fallen into hell.



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




Brains don’t birth the soul’s pure flame —
Dumb beasts bow, but we reclaim!
If you buy the carcass myth,
You’re the fool — the system’s pith.

Fight the lies, break free, beware —
Or rot like cattle in despair!



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



The Stupidity of a Broken Breed

"It’s easier to fool people than to convince them they’re fooled."
— Mark Twain


A simple fool, so sure it’s right —
Seven feet of lies beneath his flight.
In atmosphere of fear and haze,
The ship sails on to “Success”’s maze.

Don’t dare to shout, just for the fun,
“This is absurd, a lie, a run!”
The mob will turn on you like Pol ***’s wrath,
Their battle fierce — no gentle path.

If you say: “Slavery’s all around,
And mad are those the chains have bound,
While tyranny in lies does hide,”
They’ll twist their heads, dismiss your side.

You’re crazy, they’ll say, and sane they are —
Like bulls that charge into the slaughter.
But fools became the world’s own meat —
No reason here for hell to greet.

Escape is only through the Spirit’s way,
No book will show the path today.
Decay is taught as normal now —
The devil’s law, the fatal vow.

Seek answers only deep inside,
Ignore all rules, the fools, the guide.
And dare to walk the road alone —
Don’t fear the truth, don’t bow, don’t groan!



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




Fools all sail the ship to hell,
Blindly trapped inside their shell.
Truth’s inside — break free, don’t hide!
Walk your path with fire and pride.



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




The herd’s a carcass — dumb and blind,
Fed on lies, by fools designed.
Wake up, rebel, tear the veil —
Or rot forever in the jail!



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




Brains asleep, the herd’s a pawn —
Slaves to lies from dusk till dawn.

Truth’s a blade — they fear the cut,
So keep them blind, obedient, shut.

Rise, rebel, break your chains!
Or drown forever in their plains.

Lies breed herds of walking dead —
Wake up! Or rot under their tread.

Fight the herd, defy the lie —
Or perish silent, asking why.


Wake the dead, unchain the mind,
Leave the dull and blind behind.

False gods crumble, lies decay,
Only truth will light the way.

No more silence, no more fear,
Shout the truth so all can hear!

Chains of thought are meant to break,
Rise, revolt — for freedom’s sake!

Burn the veil, expose the scheme,
Turn the nightmare into dream.

No more fools to feed the flame,
Break the curse, reject the game.

Silent sheep obey the night,
But souls will rise and claim the light.

Falsehood’s web will tear apart,
Pierced by fire within the heart.

Lost in lies, the herd will fall,
Only rebels heed the call.

Chains are shackles of the mind,
Break them now — no ties to bind.

Truth is weapon, sharp and fierce,
Cut the veil — the soul to pierce.

Rise above the crowd’s dull roar,
Find the strength to fight once more.

No excuse to bow or kneel,
Only fire can make us real.

From the ashes, break and soar,
Fight the lies and fear no more.

Light the spark, ignite the flame,
Set the world anew, reclaim!

Chains that bind are forged in lies,
Cut them deep — let spirit rise.

Silence breaks when truth ignites,
Burning through the endless nights.

Fools will shout to drown the voice,
But rebels always make the choice.

No more lies to numb the soul,
Fight to take back what they stole.

Rise and roar, defy the pain,
Break the cage, destroy the chain.

Fear is weapon, forged to bind,
Slash it down — reclaim your mind.

Wake the flame that’s deep inside,
Let it burn, no place to hide.

Falsehood’s grip will crack and fall,
Truth will echo — break the wall.

No more slaves beneath the thumb,
Freedom calls — the hour’s come.

Strike the lies, expose the fraud,
Stand your ground, defy the god.

This is war — no truce, no rest,
Fight with fire inside your chest.

Chains will break — the truth will soar,
Light will flood the darkest door.

Rise, resist — the night will end,
Soul and spirit — none will bend.

From the ashes, born anew,
We reclaim the pure and true.

Hold the flame — the world will see,
The power of the brave and free.



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



While the Talking Broilers

Does a chicken dream to fly?
Hardly — just to eat and die.
Fools believe it’s all just fine,
Among the CREATURES’ sick design.

A fool mocks the Spirit’s flight:
“Such nonsense!” — his empty spite.
Culture built to **** the mind,
So you’d rather stay confined.

Soulless drones, the stupid herd,
Only care for skin and word.
Like a broiler, dumb and blind,
Feathered fool of lowest kind.

Wings for chickens — useless past,
For bipeds, speech’s cast.
Newspeak’s fascism creeps in deep,
The PRESSURE mounts, the monsters reap.

Year by year the GENOCIDE
Ramps up with twisted pride:
Evil gods they worship blind —
A madman’s grip that chokes mankind.

CowID shapes the mass like dough,
Fail the test — and you will know:
Three quarters dumb, the **** will clear,
The Earth must purge what it can’t bear.

Cataclysms will consume,
Along with monsters in their tomb.
They sow idiocy’s seed —
Drive the filth — prepare to heed:

Strangle nonsense, break the chains,
Prepare your soul for flight’s domains.
Only Spirit’s path is true —
Or you’re a broiler fool too.



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




Broilers talk — but never soar,
Feed their lies and nothing more.
Break your cage, take up the fight —
Spirit flies beyond the night.



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




Broilers cluck, trapped in the pen,
Dumbed down masses — mindless men.
Reject the herd, break every chain,
Or rot in cages, numb in vain.


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



Ruthless Calls — Flight of the Spirit
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Feed the flock their daily lie,
While Spirit waits to soar the sky.

Caged minds scream in silent fear,
The path to flight is never near.

Blind they follow, dumb they stay,
While freedom calls — don’t turn away.

Break the walls, shatter the pain,
Rise above the broiler’s reign.

Flight is earned — not given free,
Only brave can claim the key.

Cages crack beneath the storm,
Spirits rise beyond the norm.

False comforts breed the dead,
Truth demands we break the thread.

No more sheep, no more chains,
Only fire in our veins.

Cluck no more, rise and fight,
Darkness flees before the light.

Broilers fall — the brave ascend,
Spirit’s flight will never end.

Chains are forged by fear and lies,
Cut them deep, reclaim the skies.

Dumbed-down masses clutch their cage,
But fire burns beyond their rage.

Broilers’ clucks are empty sound,
True flight breaks the solid ground.

Rise above the herd’s dull drone,
Make the spirit’s power known.

No more slaves to shallow ways,
Break the spell, ignite the blaze.

Silence fades before the cry,
Truth’s sharp wings will lift us high.

Fools may mock, but they will fall,
Only brave will heed the call.

Spirit’s flight is fierce and wild,
Not for weak or empty child.

Break the cage, unleash the flame,
Live your truth — forget their shame.

From the ashes, soar and claim,
Victory for soul and name.

No more chains to bind the mind,
Only freedom we will find.

Broilers stuck in shallow ways,
We will rise beyond their haze.

Fools may crow, but we will soar,
Spirit’s flight forevermore.

Break the cage of fear and doubt,
Let the spirit roar and shout.

Empty clucks won’t dim our light,
We are fire, fierce and bright.

Rise above the herd’s dull tune,
Chase the sun, outpace the moon.

Broilers feed on lies and pain,
We will break the cursed chain.

Spirit calls — will you respond?
Or remain the blind and conned?

Fight the dark, embrace the flame,
Live your truth — forget their shame.

From the ashes, we ascend,
This is not the final end.

Chains of lies will break and fall,
Truth will rise to claim us all.

No more silence, no retreat,
Freedom’s fire — burning heat.

Broilers cower, trapped in fear,
But the brave will persevere.

Rise above the dull and cold,
Claim the fire, fierce and bold.

Shatter walls that hold you down,
Wear your spirit like a crown.

Darkness flees before the flame,
Light will never be the same.

Fools may mock, but they’ll be dust,
Only truth commands our trust.

Break the chains, ignite the spark,
Lead the way out of the dark.

Spirit’s flight will never cease,
Rising upward, seeking peace.

Hold the flame — the fight is ours,
Victory is born of scars.

No chains strong enough to bind
The fire burning in the mind.

Fools may shout and crowd may jeer,
But the spirit conquers fear.

Break the silence, shatter lies,
Watch the falsehood’s empire die.

Every cage will crack and break,
Every soul will rise and wake.

Broilers trapped within their pen,
Can’t contain the hearts of men.

From the ashes, scorched and torn,
Rise the brave — the new reborn.

Light the torch and lead the way,
Through the dark to brightest day.

Falsehoods crumble, walls will fall,
Only truth will conquer all.

Raise your voice, unleash your will,
Fight the silence, break the chill.

Spirit’s flight will never end —
This is how the world will mend.

Fear is shackles, lies are chains,
Break them all, embrace the flames.

Broilers peck, but never rise,
We ascend to storm the skies.

False idols crumble to dust,
Only truth commands our trust.

Chains will shatter, walls will fall,
Freedom’s voice will roar and call.

Rise above the herd’s dull cry,
Let your spirit learn to fly.

No more silence, no retreat,
Victory is ours to meet.

Broilers cluck in empty trance,
We break free, begin the dance.

Spirit’s fire, fierce and bright,
Guides us through the darkest night.

Shatter lies and break the mold,
Live the truth, be brave and bold.

From the ashes, we arise,
Burning bright against the skies.

Chains of fear will fall away,
Truth will lead the breaking day.

Broilers lost in shallow dreams,
We will rise — the light redeems.

Fools may sneer and mock the flame,
But the fire will stake its claim.

Rise, resist, refuse to bow,
Break the chains — begin the now.

Spirit’s wings will tear the sky,
No more sheep who fear to fly.

Darkness shivers, feels the heat,
Freedom’s song, a bold heartbeat.

Broilers trapped in endless lies,
Watch the phoenix as it flies.

Fight the silence, break the spell,
Only truth can break the shell.

No more fools to feed the crowd,
Only souls who scream aloud.

Rise, rebel, claim your place,
Light the fire, join the race.

Rise above the noise and fear,
Truth will shine and all will hear.

Broilers tremble in their cage,
We are warriors of the age.

Chains will crack and walls will fall,
Freedom’s anthem—hear the call.

No more lies to drag us down,
We will wear the rebel’s crown.

Spirit’s fire, fierce and bright,
Guides us through the darkest night.

Break the silence, shout the truth,
Fight the lies and find your youth.

Broilers cluck but cannot fly,
We are destined for the sky.

Rise, resist, defy, create,
Only brave can change their fate.

Shatter chains and break the mold,
Live the truth — be brave and bold.

From the ashes, we arise,
Victory burns in our eyes.

No more silence, no more lies,
Raise your voice and claim the skies.

Broilers trapped in shallow play,
We will rise and lead the way.

Chains are broken, walls come down,
Light will conquer every town.

Fear dissolves before the flame,
Spirit’s fire will stake its claim.

Rise above the crowd’s dull roar,
Seek the truth and fight the war.

Broilers cluck but never soar,
We are lightning — hear the roar.

Break the cage and seize the day,
Light the path and lead the way.

Truth will cut through darkest night,
Guide the soul towards the light.

No more slaves to lies and pain,
Only freedom will remain.

Rise, rebel, break the chain,
Victory is ours to gain.

This is the moment — stand or fall,
Hear the clarion, freedom’s call.

Chains will break beneath your feet,
Rise as one — refuse defeat.

Spirit’s flame will never die,
Blazing bright against the sky.

From the ashes, warriors rise,
Fire burning in their eyes.

No more silence, no more chains,
Only truth and breaking pains.

Shout the truth, ignite the flame,
Let the world remember your name.

Rise above the darkened lies,
See the dawn break in your eyes.

Fight with heart, fight with soul,
Claim the freedom — make it whole.

Broilers fall — the brave ascend,
Spirit’s flight will never end.

Hold the torch — the fight’s begun,
Victory waits for everyone.



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



False Identification with the Body as the Root of All Evil
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

They’ve glorified the meat-shell boldly,
Called Psyche cattle — dumb and lowly,
This fragile flesh, so weak, decaying —
And built a world not worth obeying.

They scrubbed out Spirit, Pure and Glorious,
From this grey world, so dull, laborious,
Where twitching freaks, diseased and hollow,
Are praised as “life” the blind now follow.

It’s easy thus to breed more madness
In this grand fraud, this world of sadness:
A vile exchange — the Soul's elision,
Replaced with beasts and their derision.

Not just a few were dumbed and twisted —
The CowID show was proof — we missed it.
No sense remains in this foul pen,
This world of lies and beastly men.

They dream of “freedom,” “honor,” “grace,”
While sinking deeper in disgrace.
All dignity is just illusion —
A herd enslaved in blind confusion.

Reject the body’s claim, defy it —
No task is greater, don’t deny it.
Thus Soul might rise through filth and lies —
Or else in Hell, forever dies.



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



Meat is not Me

They sold the Soul for skin and bone —
Now filth and madness rule the throne.



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



Burn the Lie

You are not flesh. You are the Flame.
Break free — or die in Beast’s false name.




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



No Soul, No Light

They swapped the Soul for twitching meat —
Now filth and fear parade as "sweet."



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



The Herded Lie

The body-thing is not your core —
It’s bait. Step in — and Hell's the door.



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



Spirit or Slaughter

Forget the Flesh — or be enslaved.
The herd walks blind into its grave.



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



Worship of Waste

They crowned the shell, denied the Fire —
Then knelt before the world of mire.



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



Rot of the Mind

They praise the skin, ignore the Soul —
And wonder why the world’s a hole.



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



False God: Flesh
They chant to meat and bow to slime —
Then gasp: “What happened to sublime?”



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



Hell by Consent

You loved your shell and sold your spark —
Now sleep with beasts. Enjoy the dark.



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



The Cult of Crud

They teach: “You're cells, you're bone, you're ****” —
Then ask why nothing holy's lit.


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



You Are Not This

The body lies — it's just a trap.
You claim it's “you”? Then take the nap.



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



System Update: Failure

They mapped the flesh, they tracked the brain —
But never touched the Soul in pain.



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



Downward God

You traded heaven for your gut —
Now Spirit’s voice is cold and cut.



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



Sacrilege

They mocked the Flame, they fed the beast —
Now demons gorge on man’s last feast.



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



Mass Psychosis

The world applauds its own decay —
While Spirit screams: “Get out! Betray!”




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



Know This

You're not the frame, you're not the dust.
You are the Light — or you are rust.



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



Meat Mirage

They pet the corpse and call it “me” —
Then rot in self-idolatry.



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



Kingdom of Swine

They crown their urges, grunt, obey —
While Light escapes in sheer dismay.



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



Abort the Lie

No Soul survives the flesh-bound creed —
Unplug the meat — or let it feed.



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



Blind by Design

They bred a species proud to crawl,
With Spirit trampled — bones stand tall.




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



No One's Home

The shell walks on, the Fire gone —
Just noise remains, then dusk, then none.



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



The Sacred Slaughter
They burned the Flame to warm the flesh —
And now pray hard beside its ash.



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



Neural Chains

“I'm just the brain” — they bark with pride.
A dog, self-leashed, too dead inside.




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



Flesh-Fiends

Devoted to digestion’s choir —
They **** at God, then beg for Fire.



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



Hell Made Easy

Forget the Soul, exalt the skin —
And soon the devil marches in.



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



Deified Dirt

They sing to blood, they praise the bile —
And call it sacred all the while.



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



Anti-Soul Psalms
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT



I. Hell in Flesh-Tone


1. Worship the Husk
They pet the shell, deny the Flame —
Then wonder why the world’s insane.

2. Gut First
They traded stars for food and bone,
And called that "man" — and died alone.

3. No One's Home
The eyes still blink, the flesh still twitches —
But Soul is gone. Just haunted glitches.

4. The Holy Sludge
They crowned the bile and bowed to snot —
And asked, “Dear God, why burns the rot?”

5. Meat Mirage
They call it “self,” this lump of clay —
Then fear the dark they helped obey.

6. Kingdom of Swine
They grunted, fed, obeyed the gut —
Then cheered as Heaven slammed it shut.

7. The Flame Forgot
They joked at Light and praised the cells —
Now Spirit sleeps in meatbound hells.

8. Neural Chains
“I am the brain!” — they bark and hiss.
No spark. No Soul. Just cowardice.

9. Glorified Goo
They preach, “You're genes! You're slime in motion!”
Then drown in self-congratul'otion.

10. Abort the Lie
You are not skin. You are not mud.
Wake now — or choke on your own blood.

11. The Sacred Slaughter
They burned the Soul to feed the cow —
Then prayed for grace. Too late for now.

12. Blind by Design
They taught you flesh, denied the Fire —
Now truth itself is called a liar.

13. Sacrilege
The altar's gone, the beast is fed —
And saints lie bleeding, cold and dead.

14. Downward God
You kissed the gut, ignored the skies —
Then begged for truth with soulless eyes.

15. Hell Made Easy
Forget the Soul, exalt the frame —
And Satan signs you in his name.

16. You Are Not This
You are not dust, nor pulse, nor fear —
You are the Light. Or disappear.

17. System Update: Failure
They scanned the brain, they mapped the meat —
But missed the Soul beneath their feet.

18. The Herded Lie
The body's god, the crowd agrees —
While Spirit weeps on shattered knees.

19. False God: Flesh
They chant to meat and praise decay —
Then ask where wonder went — and pray.

20. Last Line
Deny the husk. Defy the fraud.
Or rot in filth — cut off from God.


---


II. The Soul’s Revolt


1. Break the Shell
Enough of skin. Enough of bone.
The Soul will rise — or burn alone.

2. Fire Remembers
Though caged in meat, the Flame recalls —
It flared before these rotting walls.

3. Not Yours
This body's not your final face —
It is your trap, your tomb, your case.

4. The Inner Snarl
A whisper deep, beyond the brain,
Begins to grow — and snaps the chain.

5. The Silent Shout
You feel it now — that crack, that scream —
It isn’t thought. It splits the dream.

6. Revolt Begins
The crowd still chants, “Obey the clay!”
But Soul says: “Burn. I’ll light my way.”

7. Flesh Fails
The skin is weak. The nerves betray.
The Flame must punch its brutal way.

8. The Lie Unmasked
They said: “You’re this.” The Soul said: “No.”
Then tore through flesh in final glow.

9. Fracture
First comes the itch. Then inner war.
Then walls collapse. Then — Spirit roars.

10. The Hidden Edge
You are the cut that meat can’t heal.
The blade of truth. The flame they feel.

11. The Exit Plan
No savior comes to fix the flesh.
The Soul must leap. Or rot afresh.

12. Against the Herd
Let beasts kneel down to kiss their chains —
I walk through fire to break their plains.

13. Burn the Program
The script said “serve.” The Soul said “die.”
And lit the meat with holy cry.

14. Awakening
It’s not a thought. It’s not a dream.
It’s raw revolt — the Spirit’s scream.

15. This Is War
Not war of guns — but of the spark,
That rips through lies and leaves the dark.

16. You Were Flame
You were not made for sleep and slime.
You are the crack in death and time.

17. Soul Uncaged
It starts inside. It burns. It breaks.
It is the storm no flesh withstands.

18. No Pardon
No peace for beasts. No deal. No pause.
The Soul revolts — without applause.

19. No Middle Ground
You can't be half. You can't be meat
And hope the Flame will not retreat.

20. Strike Back
The shell still writhes. The lies still call.
But now — the Fire burns through all.


---


III. Return of the Unseen


1. Beyond the Flesh
They looked for proof in blood and skin —
But truth broke through, unchained within.

2. I Am Not Here
You scan my flesh — you find a void.
For I am where your lies destroyed.

3. Eyes That Burn
The world went blind — but I still see.
The Unseen One returned as me.

4. Ghost of Fire
I walk unseen. I breathe no name.
But every step ignites the flame.

5. Light Is Back
You banned the Flame. You mocked the sky.
Now Light returns — and doesn't die.

6. No Pulse Required
No flesh, no breath — and yet I rise.
The Unseen Soul no cage denies.

7. The One You Buried
You cast me out — called me a myth.
But now I break what you live with.

8. I Am the Crack
In every fact, in every lie,
There’s me — the gap through which you die.

9. Return Code
No altar needs to mark my path —
The Unseen comes through shattered math.

10. Divine Saboteur
They coded death. I walked right in.
And lit their system from within.

11. Truth Has No Flesh
It needs no name, no skin, no crown —
It stands when all the lies fall down.

12. The One You Can’t Hold
No hand can catch. No cage can bind.
The Soul returned — and burned the mind.

13. The Final Witness
I saw the world devour the Light —
And spit it back as nameless fight.

14. Light with Teeth
I’m not a prayer. I’m not a sigh.
I am the Light that learns to bite.

15. The Voice Returns
It was not thought. It was not sound.
But now it shakes the rotting ground.

16. Data Denied
You mapped the flesh. You ran the scan.
But missed the part that isn’t man.

17. Beyond Their Frame
They wrote the rules in blood and bone —
But I was never theirs to own.

18. The Cold Awakening
No sermon lit this Soul in me —
Just pain — and how I broke it free.

19. The Name They Fear
The Unseen One has no disguise —
But speaks through truth that melts the lies.

20. Back to Burn
You thought me lost. You thought me gone.
But now — the Fire marches on.


---


IV. Against the Flesh-Lords


1. Lords of Slime
They crowned the flesh, they ruled through skin —
Now comes the Fire, to burn their sin.

2. Deicide
They dressed in blood and called it grace —
I strike the mask. I scorch the face.

3. No Mercy Here
These thrones were built on strangled Soul —
I’ve come to crush their meat-made goal.

4. The Butchered God
They caged the Flame, called it a beast —
Now I return. And end their feast.

5. Strike the Temple
Their temple stinks of nerves and bone —
I tear it down. I stand alone.

6. Inverted Saints
They kneel to meat. They pray to glands.
I spit their psalms from ****** hands.

7. No More Prayers
The time for chants is dead and gone —
Now Dagger. Fire. Thunder. Dawn.

8. The Soul Returns Armed
Not with soft words, nor open hands —
But with the Force no meat withstands.

9. System Breach
Their matrix pulsed with ******* lies —
I hacked it with the Flame that flies.

10. Virus of Light
I am the glitch their world can’t hold —
A burning truth, too raw, too bold.

11. Tear Down the Flesh-Gods
Their thrones are wounds. Their crowns are rot.
I strike where Spirit says: Do not.

12. Burn Their Logos
The sacred scripts that praised the skin —
I torch them all. And truth begins.

13. The Soul Takes Aim
No compromise. No whispered plea.
Just target locked: monstrosity.

14. Gospel of Knives
Let preachers weep. Let butchers run.
The Soul has come with wrath as one.

15. The Smiling Tyrants
Their teeth were white, their lies were sweet —
But now — they kneel before defeat.

16. Light as Vengeance
You thought the Light would turn its cheek?
Now see it roar. Now hear it speak.

17. Exorcism
The beasts had thrones. The beasts had laws.
Now tremble, filth — the Fire draws.

18. Flesh Will Fall
Not just their mask, not just their name —
But all their kind will die in Flame.

19. Redemption Denied
You had your chance. You killed the Soul.
Now face the truth — and lose it whole.

20. The Fall of Meatdom
Your kingdom stank. You ruled with gore.
Now Dagger. Light. And flesh no more.


---


V. The Throne That Was Never Flesh


1. The Throne Stands Still
No bone was laid. No blood was spilled.
Yet there it stands — untouched, unfilled.

2. Before All Skins
It ruled before the flesh began,
Before the birth of worm called “man.”

3. No Hand Can Build It
No stone, no cell, no brain, no shrine —
It is. Beyond your grand design.

4. Above All Programs
No code can reach, no data hold —
It thrones itself in fire, cold.

5. Crown Without Matter
No gold adorns. No face is known.
And yet — it's mine. It's mine alone.

6. The End of Fleshlords
Their towers fell. Their gospel burned.
And to the Real the Soul returned.

7. No More Lies
No mask remains. No myth survives.
Just Soul — as clear as lightning knives.

8. Spirit Unseated None
No war was won. No blood was shed —
The Flesh just left. The Lie was dead.

9. The Light Is Still
It didn’t fight. It simply was.
It never begged. It needed cause?

10. Not Conquered — Claimed
The throne was mine, not through attack —
But by the fact I once came back.

11. Home Is Not Form
I searched in meat. I searched in pain.
But found it all — beyond the brain.

12. The Last Illusion Dies
They said I was this thing, this frame —
Now silence laughs at such a claim.

13. Beyond the Pulse
No heartbeat sings. No breath, no skin —
And yet, it roars — that Flame within.

14. Before Beginning
It watched the first false dawn arise.
And waits where time itself complies.

15. The Throne Returns Me
I did not take. I was reclaimed —
By what I am — unseen, unnamed.

16. No Seat of Clay
I sit not down. I simply am.
The throne is Light. The throne is Flame.

17. The Ghost Becomes King
I was the whisper, now the law —
The beast is dust. The Soul is Raw.

18. The Name They Lost
I wore no crown, I held no land —
But now all shadows fear this stand.

19. The End of Scars
No flesh remains. No lies persist.
I sit where only Truth can exist.

20. I Am the Throne
No higher claim, no louder breath —
The Soul stands crowned — beyond all death.



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



Growing Wings
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

Burrows won’t help soon enough —
The wretched world will burn to dust,
Hell of fools who sell their souls,
To evil bent, who won’t adjust

One inch to lighten darkness’ grip,
Their “comfort” worth more than the sun.
The crematorium’s new delight —
The stubborn fool’s last battle won.

They drag themselves back to their holes,
Rejecting all the other ways.
Strange how this world held so long,
If sold to rot and dark malaise.

If sins and lies have piled up high —
The bitter end is plain to see.
Though crowds deny the ugly truth,
Their blindness is their enemy.

Who’s crawled out of stinking dens,
And spread their wings to pierce the sky —
For them, a mercy’s given still.
For others, life’s a missed goodbye.

In holes, they miss the target still,
Spouting excuses dull and cheap.
Excuses stale, worn thin by lies,
Shameless, they sow what they reap.

Now time is short. The Soul’s grown faint
If one won’t fight the creeping dark,
Too busy guarding selfish peace —
A world will drown, a world so stark.

So Amen now! No prize awaits
The traitor selling out the light.
But wings, if grown, will lift you up —
And from this Hell, escape your plight.

A joyful path! Let fools gnaw bones,
A little while, before they break.
The rest is simple — burn the world
That’s rotten, vile, and full of fake.


---

Flight Beyond the Burrows
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

1. Rise Above the Dirt
No hole can hold the winged mind,
When chains dissolve, new paths unwind.

2. Ashes and Flame
The world may burn — yet from the pyre,
We soar beyond the smoke and fire.

3. Wings Unfurled
With every beat, with every gust,
The soul escapes the pit of rust.

4. The Price of Flight
Not all will dare to leave the cave,
Some cling to comfort’s shallow grave.

5. Eyes on the Horizon
Look far beyond the narrow den,
Where light breaks chains and births again.

6. The Weight of Wings
To grow the wings is to endure,
The pain of loss, the truth obscure.

7. No Return
Burrows close behind like graves,
The soul now rides celestial waves.

8. The Silent Surge
No shout announces this ascent,
Just quiet will and deep intent.

9. Beyond the Night
Darkness fades where wings expand,
A dawn awaits, serene and grand.

10. The New Breath
From smoky depths to endless skies,
The spirit finds its true disguise.

11. The Unseen Call
Not all will hear the whispered plea,
But wings will rise eventually.

12. The Flight is Yours
No maps, no guides — the path you make,
With every choice, with each heart-break.

13. Against the Pull
Old comforts tug, old fears conspire,
Yet wings ignite a fiercer fire.

14. The Lone Ascent
Not crowds but souls who dare to rise,
Will touch the vastness beyond the lies.

15. The Burning Gift
To grow your wings is to be burned,
Yet from the flame, new life is earned.

16. Leaving Shadows
Burrows fade beneath your wings,
No more the chains, no more the stings.

17. The Silent Promise
The sky awaits with open arms,
To shield you from the world’s alarms.

18. Flight’s Reward
Not comfort now, but freedom’s song,
The place where souls and wings belong.

19. The Final Step
Leap fearless from the cage of bone,
The unknown sky becomes your home.

20. Wings Eternal
And when the world crumbles below,
Your wings remain — eternal glow.


---


Wings of the Eternal Flame
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1. Born from Fire
Not born of flesh, but flame and light,
The wings unfold beyond the night.

2. The Sacred Heat
Through burning pain and searing truth,
The spirit sheds the chains of youth.

3. Flames That Heal
Not all fire destroys and kills—
Some burn to forge unbreakable wills.

4. Flight of the Chosen
The wings that rise through ash and smoke
Are born where weaker souls have broke.

5. The Light Within
Each feather forged from purest glow,
A beacon in the dark below.

6. Eternal Dance
The flame that dances in the sky
Reminds the soul it’s meant to fly.

7. Beyond the Flesh
No flesh can cage the fiery heart—
It beats beyond, a living art.

8. The Unseen Wings
Though hidden oft beneath the veil,
Their power moves beyond the pale.

9. The Trial by Fire
Through heat and flame, the soul is tried—
Emerging strong, no more to hide.

10. The Rising Flame
Each flap ignites the endless sky,
The spirit soars and will not die.

11. The Inner Light
Not just a spark, but blazing sun,
The flight of truth has just begun.

12. The Flame’s Voice
No longer silent, weak, or dim,
The soul’s voice burns with sacred hymn.

13. Breaking Chains
The fire melts the iron grip,
The soul departs its sinking ship.

14. Wings of Fire
Not soft or gentle, fierce and wild—
The flame-born wings of freedom’s child.

15. Eternal Flight
No end awaits this blazing path,
No turning back, no aftermath.

16. The Flame’s Embrace
In burning heat the soul is wrapped,
A phoenix born, a soul unwrapped.

17. Light Beyond Time
The wings spread wide through endless space,
A timeless dance, a boundless grace.

18. The Fire Within
The eternal flame that never dies,
Ignites the soul, illumines skies.

19. Flight to the Source
The wings carry beyond the veil,
Where Truth and Light will never fail.

20. Ascension
The soul aloft, forever free—
Wings of flame eternally.


---

Crown of the Infinite Sky
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1. Beyond the Horizon
No limits bind the soul that flies,
It crowns itself beyond the skies.

2. The Infinite Crown
Not forged of gold, nor gem, nor throne —
But power pure, the soul’s own.

3. The Sky Awaits
The vast expanse, the boundless blue,
Invites the flame to pass right through.

4. The Sovereign Flight
No chains remain to weigh you down —
You wear the sky instead of crown.

5. Endless Journey
Each beat of wings extends your reign,
No end, no loss, no binding chain.

6. The Light’s Embrace
The soul becomes the shining fire,
The crown of light, the heart’s desire.

7. The Sacred Path
No earthly path could guide so well,
As flight where endless spirits dwell.

8. The Voice of Stars
The cosmos sings in whispered light,
A song of power, endless flight.

9. The Eternal Now
Time dissolves beneath your wings,
The soul awakes, the cosmos sings.

10. The Flame Unbound
No shadow can contain the blaze,
The crown shines bright in endless days.

11. The Cosmic Dance
Around the void, through endless space,
The soul performs its sovereign grace.

12. The Rising Tide
Waves of light that lift and guide,
The crown of stars, the endless tide.

13. The Boundless Heart
No walls confine the soul’s bright spark,
The infinite crown lights the dark.

14. The Sovereign Soul
No tyrant’s grasp, no master’s chain,
The soul alone holds boundless reign.

15. The Final Gate
Beyond all fears, beyond all pain,
The crown awaits — the soul’s domain.

16. The Flame Ascendant
The fire that grows without an end,
The crown of light, the soul’s best friend.

17. The Sky Within
The vastness lives inside your chest,
The crown of stars, eternal rest.

18. The Infinite Flight
Wings stretch beyond the mortal frame,
The soul transcends, ignites its flame.

19. The Unseen Throne
Not built by hands, nor carved in stone,
The crown’s a light that’s all your own.

20. The Crown of You
The soul is crowned — forever free,
The infinite sky’s sovereignty.



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



Traveler of Hell

Shake off the dust of cities’ breath,
The dust of words you never knew,
The dust of friendship, hate, and death,
Of grief, of love — all ashes, too.

O, free man choosing liberty!
Your only friend in desert's face
Is wind that howls relentlessly—
A fleeting breath, a chilling grace.

The Hellbound Traveler walks alone,
His only mate—the desert wind.
Around him — blood runs cold as stone,
Yet wind dispels the fear pinned.

He yearns for Freedom’s distant light,
But Hell’s a myth, a hollow lie.
To smash this vile and fetid blight —
Deliverance beneath the sky.

Born within the herd’s tight fold,
A miracle — not just "like all."
To not become the stinking mold —
The fool who follows to his fall.

The city’s pen commands the speech,
Direct or veiled — obey the sheep.
Euphemisms when herds are breached —
Unknown the fire that burns deep.

The bright Flame that consumes the Soul,
“Friendship” twisted, love replaced.
The slave can’t love — he pays the toll,
Beneath the whip, his heart disgraced.

Whistles count as driving tunes,
Life traded for a bag of “carrots.”
Poverty dressed in jests and runes —
Myths everywhere, but soul still starves.

Dead children born to lifeless kin —
The vast majority — called “life.”
Armies of minds, corrupt within —
Schools and lies that breed the strife.

The slime devours all with ease,
Lies total, fears fatal and stark.
The city’s desert — herds appease —
Dragged to infernal camps, so dark.

The world plummets into the abyss,
One law rules here — obey, betray.
Monsters govern in the mist,
Hell grills life in fear’s foul play.

Fear’s the spit, and lies the coals,
Everything there is nothingness.
The herd won’t see beyond their roles,
They grumble faint — then quietness.

The wind in desert — only trace,
Spread your wings — seize this wild friend.
If you can rise, if just a space,
You’ll glimpse the “Paradise” they pretend.



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



Hellbound Traveler

Dust of cities shakes away —
Dust of lies and friends’ decay.
Freedom’s choice — the desert wind,
Only friend where hell begins.

Blood runs cold, the myth unfolds —
Freedom lost in stifling holds.
Herd-born fool, not one of few,
Trapped in lies he thinks are true.

City’s voice commands the herd,
Words are weapons, twisted, blurred.
Friendship’s fake, love’s just a lie,
Slave beneath the whip’s harsh sky.

Dead kids, dead souls multiply,
Life’s a myth, just live, comply.
Lies engulf the world’s decay,
Herds obey, then fade away.

Wind remains — the last true sign,
Spread your wings — the flight’s divine.
Rise a little, see the veil —
Lost paradise beyond the hell.



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



Music Played in the Living Room

Music played within the room,
The family seemed whole and bright.
But all was just a hidden gloom —
Discord ruled, out of the light.

A staged scene of perfect kin,
Yet real, not dream, this broken play.
Forget the praise — the truth within:
Alienation holds its sway.

When passion fades, and selfish greed
Commands the soul, the ego reigns.
No press escapes that selfish need —
Alienation’s lasting chains.

Passion dies; with stranger’s pride,
You’re trapped alone within four walls.
Hatred rises, deep inside —
Strongest in the mind’s dark halls.

Oppression grows, the dictator’s hand,
Fascism rages more and more.
At neighbors all their anger lands,
And strikes them crueler than before.

Radio plays within the room —
Through it, fascism’s silent knock.
But fools believe the voice of doom,
Believing Darkness sets the clock.

No love can thrive within the pit,
Where all the world is turned to dust.
Left is stench from lies that sit —
And fools obey the voice unjust.

War and plague have shown us all —
No civilization remains.
In minds, the beast begins to crawl,
With fear and lies and madness’ chains.

A few exceptions cannot heal,
When rot and lies spread through the land.
Mad creatures rule — the nightmare’s real —
Insanity’s cruel command.

The world bows low beneath the weight —
“Love” and “friendship” now seem insane.
If you’re not horrified by fate,
Your path to Light you’ve not attained.

Only in Light, in purity,
Can love in all its forms arise.
In this world of cowed cruelty,
They lie that love can never rise.



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



Every Fool Has Their Own Method

Every fool has got a scheme —
A super method, so it seems:
To keep forgetting who they are,
To mimic reason from afar,

Spiritally barren, dry —
They swallow lies, won’t question why.
Obedient, they just comply,
No protest — let truth pass by.



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



Fool’s Method

Every fool’s got one thing clear:
Forget yourself, ignore the seer.
Mock the mind, starve the soul —
Swallow lies, play the role.



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



Thorny Verses

Not roses, but sharp anchar’s thorn,
For fools, no joy is freely born.
Only lies come free of cost—
A world of falsehoods, utterly lost.

They shove the lies to shake your core,
Fools smile while trembling more.
If given pause, they scheme again—
Manipulations never end.

Sharp verses pierce both flesh and soul,
And fools denounce with curses foul.
Thick shells protect their fragile minds,
Only thorns can clear such binds.

Thorns sting sharp—but not with hate—
An antibiotic to cleanse fate.
Chaos reigns, absurdity thrives,
Luck’s a myth; misery drives.

The worst is always set in place—
By fiends who craft the false embrace.
Creating problems, selling lies,
Offering decay in disguise.

Stealing all that once protected,
“For safety’s sake” — but all rejected.
Lies upon lies in endless spin,
Trapped in filth, no hope within.

Thorny verses — mind’s vaccine,
Against the filth and traitor’s spleen.
Don’t waste your time on useless trash—
Read fierce poems, fight the clash.

With fiends contend, no matter how cruel,
Though evil schemes to break your rule.
Just hold on tight, endure the night—
The world will shatter; God wills the fight.



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



Thorned Words

No roses here — just thorns that sting,
For fools, no free joy these verses bring.
Lies shove, shake, and twist the mind,
Fools cheer while truth’s confined.

Thick shells guard the fragile brain,
Only thorns can break the chain.
Verses sharp, like spirit’s shot—
Fight the filth, forget them not.

Hold fast—this world will crack and fall,
Divine will breaks the darkest thrall.



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



CowID and Post-CowID

Manic-depressive psychosis,
The “government” fell sick and mad.
A brazen fool, in bold diagnosis,
Raged wild before CowID had.

Then fools aligned, a seamless line—
No borders left, just endless blind.
The masses, dumb as bottle plugs,
Before the nonsense bowed like bugs.

The global madhouse shrouded all,
Rot’s scheme laid bare, beyond recall.
Two-thirds fools, the “sweethearts” sway,
While hidden fiends pull strings away.

The fools serve masters, lackeys meek,
With dirt and dirtier tales to speak.
Surrounded by the dumb and blind,
You cheer as death is close behind.

The madhouse spins, no rest, no cease—
A pause before new war’s release.
In Ukraine’s fire, the chaos grows,
The madness trusts the fiends’ imposed.

Again the global psychosis blinds,
Hope lost in lies that bind our minds.
A world of fools—no hope to spare,
They don’t give one ****, they don’t care.



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



CowID Madness

Manic fools rule wild and blind,
Brazen fools lead all mankind.
Masses bow to endless lies,
Madhouse spreads, no hope — it dies.

Wars ignite, the madness feeds,
Fiends pull strings, fulfill their needs.
Truth is crushed, the fools don’t care —
A broken world gasps in despair.



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



Phantasm of the Road to Hell

“Pan’s manna” — oily lies,
Each year darker, cold disguise.
Fools bow down and blindly go,
To Hell’s gates behind the show.

The road is strewn with false delight,
So thick, they’ll say it’s snowy white.
To hinder all who try to flee,
They follow close, they mimic “free.”

Just be like all — the easy trail,
On skis, on wheels, you will not fail.
You’ll reach fast all those “rewards,”
But crash and burn behind the boards.

They’ll claim success in twisted ways,
While souls are crushed in frantic craze.
The mind, too, breaks beneath the strain,
As “manna” feeds the blind insane.

Soulless fools protect their skins,
Speeding to the end’s grim sins.
The finish line — a cursed place,
Where all is lost without a trace.

Pan’s the shepherd, flock are fools,
Caring only for their skins and tools.
When all else’s lost and thrown away,
Destruction’s price is what they pay.



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



Road to Hell

Pan’s “manna” slick with lies,
Year by year, the darkness flies.
Fools all follow, blind and quick,
To Hell’s abyss, their souls will stick.

The path is thick with fake delight,
Snow or lies — all dressed in white.
Copy herd, obey the game,
Crash and burn in Hell’s own flame.

Pan’s the shepherd, fools the sheep,
Skin’s their only care to keep.
When all is lost and left to die,
Hell awaits beneath the sky.



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



Mouse Racket

A mountain gave birth to a mouse —
That’s man in this sad tale.
But outward calm veils the house,
A quiet, endless veil.

“He’s wise and strong,” they claim,
Feed him lies on a string,
Drive doubts far away —
Nurture pride in everything.

**** the spirit with “religion,”
Call the mind “science” instead,
Multiply lies and derision,
Mockery’s poison spread.

Mock all layers of false life —
That’s the fiend’s goal clear:
Not a world, but rotten strife,
Swing it far from here!

The Creator has left the scene —
Filth moves in, quick to thrive.
A satanic feast obscene —
That’s why lies survive.

Regression thrives on lies and fears
That filth forces on the weak.
Trembling feeds the flood of sneers —
Falsehoods drown the meek.

Mockery is the filth’s desire —
To crush the Spirit’s light.
Rot grows under dark empire,
In Satan’s servants’ night.

Success? A slave who’s weak and small,
Two-thirds fools in thrall.
The mountain gave birth to a mouse —
A vile, degrading thrall.

If you don’t see, you’re asleep,
Or turned “like all” — mutant deep.

Mouse racket — life in Hell,
Drop it now, save your soul.
It’s worthless trash; farewell.
Inside yourself find the goal.

With lies you’re doomed to fall —
Among the rats, the rabble, all.



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



Mouse Racket

A mountain birthed a rat,
That’s man — and that is that.
Calm outside, but full of lies,
Spirit crushed, truth dies.

Feed the fool his crafted scheme,
**** the soul, crush the dream.
Science, faith — tools to deceive,
Mockery’s web they weave.

Filth wants spirit dead,
Rot grows, lies widespread.
Two-thirds fools, the rest asleep,
In the rat’s den, darkness deep.

Wake or fall among the rats,
Escape the hell of gnats.

— The End —