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Rassy Aug 2015
Crush make us smile
Crush make us laugh about funny thing he did
Crush make us go crazy
Crush make our guts go butterflies
Crush make us thinking about our own
Crush make us loving them more
Crush make us try to catch their attention
Crush make us feel hurt
Crush make us hate them
Crush make us desperate to get them
Crush make our mind exploded
That's what they do

But  careful of what you wishing for
Layne Nicholson Aug 2017
I have a crush, she's quite witty
I have a crush and it's misery
I have a crush, she's quite the beauty
I have a crush and it's killing me
I have a crush, she's not sworn to me,
I have a crush and we cannot be.

I have a crush, it will be the end of me.
Siya? Crush na crush ko dati.
Ako? Hindi ako marunong lumandi.
Kaya lagi lang ako nasa isang tabi pinagmamasdan siya,
Na tumitingin habang nakangiti siya sa crush niya.
Parang boto nga pamilya niya sakin, pero di pwede maging kami kasi siya nga mismo sa iba nakatingin.
Hindi ako crush ng crush ko dati.
Hindi rin ako malungkot kasi hindi rin siya crush ng crush niya.
Patas lang diba?
Pero ngayon....
Iba na kasi ang sitwasyon.
Malungkot na ako.
Crush ko siya noon,
Mahal ko na ngayon....
Bunny ko! Isa ka sa mga inspirasyon ko kaya ako nagdidiet. Mahal kita kahit di mo ako mahal. Darating ang araw na makakalimutan rin kita.
Akta Agarwal Apr 2021
Crush make you smile
Obsession make you feel suffocated
Crush are the attraction
Obsession is the madness
Crush may be for short period of time
Obsession will remain forever until you may die
Crush can motivate you for the one you are
Obsession will suffocate you for the person are
Crush has the power to motivate you
And obsession has the power to take you in the worst state of life
Crush will give you freedom
Obsession will take your all freedom
and will cage you in the emotions of possesiveness
That's the difference of crush and obsession
Crush will let you remain in peace
And
Obsession will take your every peace of life
Crush can make you smile
Obsession can make you suffocated
Divya Kaushik May 2020
You love to get the words out of me
The words I wouldn’t use, they sound *****
You love the way I look at you
I look into your eyes, and something sets free
You love the way I listen to you
I remember everything, Mr. Perfect doesn’t
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me  

You call me your tomboy
And get so possessive
You say that you need me
And then act submissive
I adjust your dresses
Sometimes your shoe laces  
When you keep me waiting
I say you are allowed
Don’t call me bro
Babe, what is the ground  
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me  

You say you love me  
Every time you text
I say, “I love you”
You shoot hearts and rainbows back
You want to know about my crushes
If I ever loved a girl
You wink and dance with me
Say I’m the only one to make you twirl
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me  

You love when I play gentleman
Opening the door
Letting you lead
Walking you back
Paying you heed
You  gush about  my  skills
The  way  I  move the  swords
The  way  I  calculate
The  way  I  play  with words
Close  discussions  and debates
And  then  we discuss
How  Mr.  Perfect  and  you  are  hanging
We both love crushing
I crush  on  you
And  you  crush  me

We are best friends
And you want us to be, forever
You want to hang out
And go abroad together
I would stand by you
In all platonic capacities
Even when Mr. Perfect marries you
And claims you stupidly
We both love crushing
I crush on you
And you crush me
Melody Mar 2011
I hope I don't turn you to dust,
I hope that this crush won't break your heart.
I hope this break won't crush your lungs,
So you can still hold a some what steady breath.
Please tell me if I tell you I'm leaving,
That this little crush won't turn to love,
And I wind up crush and breaking your heart,
I hope I don't turn you to dust.
Because my crush for you
Has now become insane
More.
Tell me how
I fix this,
When I leave,
I'll cry and cry again,
Just to be in your arms
Once again.
I hope this crush doesn't turn to love,
So I don't crush and break your heart.
Please tell me
...
That this...
Isn't..
Serious
Just
Yet.
Please...
Something my hands typed out.
rose14195 Apr 2015
A crush
when the thought of him takes your breathe away
when you keep imagining the way he says your name
A crush
Commonly mistaken for love
a crush is just an intense feeling of lust
you cant get enough of
A crush
they way your heart speeds up when you see him
your eyes scream kiss me
but he doesn't get the message
A crush is a seed for something more
hopefully you get the flower
and not the thorn
A crush
*My crush
I try to make it cute but I cant pull cute off lol
Nur Aishah Azman Jun 2014
CRUSH

Crush,
The term wouldn’t exist if it doesn’t hurt does it?
When does it start? This feeling,
It grows bigger and larger,
And suddenly I realise,
My heart is on the verge of exploding,
Bursting with emotions that I can’t help but feeling so.

The only thing that I have want to convey and send to you is
‘I like you’, ‘I like you a lot’,
My heart, it hurts,
Evan seeing you from afar, my heartbeat goes crazy,
It's hard to breath,
How do I stop this feeling?
I am tired, I am sad, I am happy, I am anxious,
Because the only thing I have been thinking of is you,
You! You! and only you,

But crush, oh crush,
In the end you’re just a crush,
Those words,
They were never conveyed,
And I silently keep this feeling to myself,
With the faint hope that you’ll return this feeling,
In this feeble heart of mine,
And again, it hurts.

-nuraishahazman-
Why do they call crushes crush?

I walk by you and start to blush

You smile at me and I think I died inside

I realize you smiled at her and I start to cry

Meaning of crush is they crush your heart

They mess with your feelings, tear you apart
Carter..the guy I like
Samuel Lombardo Sep 2014
In my mind,
I was flattered-
flattered at what
the world  sees;
what I saw
no picture can compare.
Yes, I must be right-
right crush has been
sent back to the thought-
the thought of love.
No love can dispel-
without hate- what other
can love?
In my mind,
the right crush
becomes reality
in my mind-
there she finally is.
In retrospect,
you can only believe
your suspicions
of a drained ear
of sorrowful advice-
that advice was clinging
at the point that no
right crush-
is not right for you-
unless you see past
your suspicions of wasted love.
Did you not learn your
lesson- of freedom not
to be joined or forced
by other forces-
but the force to dispel hate.
Otherwise, there is none
other than hate that rules-
there is no right crush!
The right crush-
is what is in your mind
to dispel hate-
and with love comes peace.
This love is the right crush!
Remember, that this could have happen to anyone! Do not allow suspicion or wrong advice be taken lightly unless there is a reason to believe.  Also,when you dispel love,you are asking to accept hate! Dispel means to get rid of, vanish,  drive off- and what you are saying is that you would like to be hated upon in your definition.  I do not hate anyone for any reason; and if you are testing me now- just know my reward is not to regain a friendship, but is to have a stronger relationship with God,in which any judgment can be taken with him.  Also, one more thing: be careful what you wish for- KARMA understands quite well that when you dispel from love, you could lose love- and that may have to be a lesson learned.
My heart has the delicacy of lace,
and is as intricate as the patterns of my brain.
His hands are rough and soft at the same time,
and his eyes are as unforgettable as the sunset at sea.

And my God, he could crush me.

When I'm with him, he's the only one I see;
the world is empty in the moments we spend together.
Late at night, I picture him on my side;
holding me, kissing me, loving me like I'm the only girl.

And my God, he could crush me.

To be without him could destroy me.
My porcelain heart could shatter like thin glass.
My mind could be set ablaze and simply
collapse as my body melts and my lungs turn to ash.

Yes, he could crush me.

But, I've decorated my love for him in bows and
ribbons, and handed it to him on a diamond platter,
in exchange for his beautiful heart. Cautiously, he
gave it to me, and I realized we felt the same.

My God, he could crush me.
But, I could crush him, too.
The thing is that the
thoughts have never crossed our minds.
Beebz The Queen Sep 2014
That's what they all call it
A silly fleeting emotion
Nothing to get worked up about
Don't raise a commotion

A crush, just a crush
It's not really how you feel
You're caught up in something
An idea that's not real

They tell me it's a crush
That I didn't fall for anyone
Just give it a little time
They say that I'll be done

But yet i know they're wrong
It's more than what they say
I know it's not a crush
This just won't fade away

I think i love him
I hope he feels the same
This is on the one guy
I don't want to play like a game

I know i love him
I know that i am right
He isn't a silly crush
This won't just last a night

He is more than a crush
More than just some guy
The one i don't want to lose
The one that isn't a lie.
He's more than a crush
He is more than just a guy
I love him
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
Genderqueer contesting histories climate apocalypse social activist make a tax-deductible donation today starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity Rawlsian diagnosis basic earth cooperative existential Marxism for our times starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity

BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM!  THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM!  THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD!
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.
Cam Arsenault Feb 2013
If I am your crush, then adore me from afar.

Love me throughout the good times and the bad times.

Reminisce our friendship and let it embrace you.

Let it take you to that special place where you can feel alive.


If I am your crush, laugh with me about the stupidest things

Also, laugh at me for being weird. If anything, laugh too much.

Laughter is the best medicine.


If I am your crush, be the girl that I want to adore. Be cute, be adorkable.

And also be clever. Be a dime a dozen. Woo me over until i’m blue in the face.

That isn’t hard to do.


If I am your crush, then lie with me underneath the stars and tell me you love me.

Make me believe it, let those words flow from your mouth and into my soul.

Take me out on dates and if we’re too lazy to go out then we’ll stay home, cuddle and watch movies.

You know, cutesy stuff.


But most importantly, if I am your crush....

Never let me go, because you'll stay right here, in my feeble weakened heart. Not wanting to escape.
Anais Vionet Mar 2023
It’s the Thursday morning before valentine’s day. Lisa and I are scrambling to get out of our suite. We share an Organic Biochemistry class and we’re running a hot minute late. As we pulled on our shoes Lisa asked me, “Do you have fun Valentine's weekend plans?” The question, since I have a BF, contained a suggestion of impending sexiness. We grabbed our bags and were soon out of the dorm.

“I do NOT have fun.. WELL??.. well,” I said hesitating - was this the time to let my secret out?
“Well?” Lisa follows up excitedly.
We’re out in the quad now, an uncovered rectangle of grass and walkways. It’s 37° and cloudy. It’s going to drizzle all day. We maneuver around the slower movers, bookbags on our shoulders and coffees in hand.

“You’ve familiar with, umm, Twib?” I asked.
“Twib! I’VE heard of them,” Lisa, chuckles, “they do some singing and plucking of strings, I believe.”
Yeah, yeah. They’ve gone underground, and um, their crush is tomorrow night”
“Oh, Wow,” she said, somewhat shocked, “Twib has crush?”
“They have crush,” I confirm.
“How did I not know this?” Lisa asks the universe, “EVERYTHING has crush!” she laughs.
“Everything has crush this year,” I agreed.“

We get to the bus stop right as the shuttle arrives - it’s perfect timing - and we board.
“I think “Crush” is a really cute name, better than “Spring Fling, for a dance name,” Lisa said.
“Anyway,” I softly announce, leaning into her even though we’re close and sharing a seat, “I’ve got three invites, so I’m taking Peter, of course, and YOU,”
Lisa laughs, “OK”
“And,” I add suspensefully - this was the surprise - “YOUR secret crush,” I add grinning and bouncing with excitement.

Lisa freezes, turns pale and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?” she says hoarsely.
“Tom,” I said hesitantly, “Peter invited Tom..”
Now Lisa has a wide-eyed look and her cheeks have turned a flamingo pink color.
“He doesn’t KNOW he’s your crush,” I add quickly, reassuringly, putting my free hand on hers.
That seems to calm her, “You didn’t SAY anything,” she asked, scrutinizing me for any sign of deception.
“No, I swear, I said, making the sacred “x” sign over my heart, “We’d never. It was just a fun, surprise idea.” Suddenly the shuttle seemed hot and uncomfortable, I took off my scarf.

We shared the last 10 minutes of the ride bickering. After we got off, we made our bickering way to class. As we settled in (we sit together) I offered,
“We can cancel, I can cancel, it was a stupid idea - I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lisa sighed, “I don’t always adjust well to surprises.. OK.. let’s do it!”
“What was all THAT (bickering) about then??” I asked.
“Oh, that was just fun,” she smiled, “I was making you sweat. Ok, What’s the theme? What are you wearing? Where’s it going to be held?” Lisa finally started asking critical questions.

“It’ll be at Luther (college) and the theme is biomes,” I said.
“Biomes?” Lisa asked.
“Biomes - like grasslands and tundra,” I explained.  
“Ohh, ok, sure” Lisa chuckled.
“And I got a dress from Princess Polly. Sorry Fast Fashion,” I joked.
“Hey, you know,” Lisa agreed, “When biomes call.”  
“You got it,” I nodded, “and I’m excited because I got a dress for you too!”
“For ME?” Lisa exclaimed, “aww.”  
“I know what you like,” I claimed.  “You do,” she admitted.
“It was a surprise and time was short, you’ll love it,” I declared, as the TA took the podium.
“It’ll be a go-hard night.” I whisper.

“You should all have a PSet and paper to hand in,” the TA announces, as class begins.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Scrutinize:  "to examine something in a critical way.

PSet = problem set (homework)
crush = a dance that you’re supposed to invite your crush to.
TA = teaching assistant (a graduate student)
Àŧùl Nov 2016
My heart has a crush on a heart of infidelity,
Yes, she is treacherous, a traitor she is, that ****.
My heart had a crush on the heart of a sweety,
Yes, she was pure and high was her divinity.
My heart has a crush on the sweetest of them all,
Yes, she is simply the sweetest of them all.
My heart had a crush on a simple heart,
Yes, she was simple when I fell in love with her.
My heart has a crush on a heart of a young gal,
Yes, she is youthful, and obviously she is fickle.
Immature people are fickle hearted.
Others are mature & dedicated.
The immature call us wrong.
HP Poem #1236
©Atul Kaushal
Carmen Reed Nov 2014
It's just a little crush--really.
But it was a secret
For a reason I chose not to tell.
My friend found out today.
I freaked out--really.
But it's just a little crush, right?
Not one to last the lifetime.
If it was, I didn't have to keep it secret.
Right?
true story (hey, I AM a little shy in real life!)
Camel crush cigarettes
Put them in a fancy box
No, I’m too poor to buy them
But if you pass’em
Then I won’t say no.

People say that it’s unclean
That you’re unclean
That they’re unclean
You smell like a hotel room
And it’s comforting.

Camel crush cigarettes
Your hugs speak of the habit
No, take your precious smoke break
**** it clean to dust
Barreling into death.

People say that it’s unwise
That you’re unwise
That they’re unwise
You smell like drunken Saturdays
And it’s delicious.

Camel crush cigarettes
I’ve never felt addiction
No, I don’t think that I could
It’s a scarlet dreamland
With one-way tickets.

People say that it’s unkind
to lungs and mind
They’re right, I find.
But you look like abandon
And it’s inviting.

Camel crush cigarettes
I’ve never loved a smoker
No, I’d always been too proper
But if you tasted like that
I wouldn’t mind a bite.

People say that you’re catering
To your un-ease
With a disease.
You feel like contradiction,
And I’m depraved.
09/25/12
steve colossus Aug 2013
I am seated, bathed in a moon dusts.
I am writing an expose, indubitably no reads
But certain one of my ultimate hush buzzes,
I am clearly happy as I write though I am a bee in a shaken jar.
All this because I am opening up to my crush!

I hold an enormous secret, behind these shades,
Big, abysmal, reserved yet it beams on my face
Only concealed by forged shackles to loyal achates
What is this secret? What’re these shades?
These are inquisitions posted in this piece to my crush!

Now my crush, there’s a question of a constant hide and seek.
The hide and seek played lone and solo have left me shooting blanks,
Façade I invite you in, mirage in whence I heartshoot your affections or meeks
Hopefully these guise and semblance will break with a bang!
Then I break free to my crush!

Then I get to tell her my ardor unreserved and eased,  
Show her crescents canyon dimples that curl skyward as her smile
Toy with her smooth creased back and forehead playfully yet in peace,
I finally draw the curtain, I spit out my inside in miles.
I love you my crush
alyssa Nov 2013
the crush that never noticed you
the crush that lead you on
the crush that you wish you could have
the crush that had a girlfriend
but when you look at your list
you always wonder
why?
why, do i like them so much?
what have they done for me?....
AUGUST Sep 2018
Sa loob ng jeepney, akoy may kursunada
Ang babaeng gustong makilala, medyo suplada
Biglang tinanong nya ako, “bakit may itatanong ka ba?”
Kaya sagot ko, “wala akong itatanong, pero may kaba”

Kaba sa dibdib, dahil sa binigyan ako ng pansin
Mula sa binibining suplada at di ko yun akalain
Na magpapasaya at bububuo sa mahabang araw
Nang minsang napatingala sa kagandahang natanaw

Dagdag ko, “Magbayad na tayo”
Sabi nya, “bayad lang walang pang tayo”
Sinabi ko ulit “Miss, pwede namang pambayad ang ngiti,
(bakit?) kasi yung 500 mo wala silang panukli”

Sa loob ng isipan koy tumutula,
Sa labas ang mga mata koy natutulala
Nabighani ng ganda at napahanga
Di ko napapansin tulo laway labas dila

Ngunit sa mukhang tila nakasimangot
Napansin ko sa mga mata’y may lungkot
Kaya Ang magpasaya, kahit papano ay aking ginawa
Nang Minsan sana’y dumampi ang ngiti, at magbigay ng tuwa

Ginawa ko na ang simpleng galawan
Inaabot ang bayad, upang kamay nya ay mahawakan
Gusto ko din sanang malaman ang kanyang pangalan
Baka may pagasa kung sya ay liligawan

Wala man akong pera, mahalaga masaya
Wala man akong pera, basta katabi ko maganda
Wala man akong pera, basta wala akong sakit
Wala man akong pera, basta kami ay nagkalapit

Aking naalala, aking naalala.....
Wala pala talaga akong pera
Ni piso isa, wala sa bulsa
Pano na? Pano na?

Kaya ang ending ng love story,
Mamang tsuper I’m sorry
Pagtumigil na tong byahe,
Takbo sibat, handa na akong mag 123....
“magnda pala lahat ng aking tinitingnan
Kung larawan mo ang lang nakaharang”
-August

naisipan ko lang ang tulang ito dahil sa dami ng magagandang babaeng nakatabi ko sa jeepney na nahumaling ako. Masaya talagang mag commute lalo na kung may magandang katabi.
Samantha Aug 2014
1
The other day I saw a picture of you.
Shirt buttoned up to your throat,
Pants cutting off the blood circulation in your pelvis,
Shoes shining brighter than the north star,
And a smile being pulled across your cheeks
Like an archer pulling a bow string.
I smiled back at my computer screen.

2
I’ve listened to this album at least 30 times.
I own three versions of it.
UK deluxe, US deluxe, Target Deluxe.
Everything about you is deluxe.
Your eyes, your voice, your breath
As it passes through the microphone and into my ears.

3
I believe in fate
But not so much in destiny.
I don’t scream at my reflection anymore
And I’m described as independent.
For the most part.
I’m a pretty trustworthy person
And I promise I’m not that desperate.

4
The music ripples through my veins
As I whip my curls at the mirror.
The hairbrush pressed against my mouth
And I repeat the lyrics that roll past your lips so smoothly.

5
I can almost feel your arms
Wrap around my waist before I go to sleep.
I had a dream
You and I were together
And you were happy
And I was happy
And everyone was happy.
But I know if my dream became reality
No one would be happy.
Jealousy would taint the spit on other girls’ tongues
And the distance between
New Jersey and Australia is too much.
Even for me.

5
I can almost feel your arms
Wrap around my waist before I got to sleep.

5
I can almost feel you.

5
We have the same eye color.

6
We have the same hair color.

7
I am just an insecure girl.
You are taking over the world.
You are stepping in the soil of every state.
And you won’t look at me
Longer for three seconds in the New York City heat.

8
I never thought I would be one of those girls.
One of those girls
Who latch onto a boy’s identity,
Not knowing his soul
But knowing his spirit.
I’ve seen you three times.
You don’t even realize.
I try too hard and I’m convinced you notice this.

9
You are nine months older than me.
In your eyes I am just a baby.
My cocoon of pictures of you is the womb
I am being baked in.
You won’t follow me back on twitter.

10
You are just my celebrity crush
But you have such an impact on me.
Go back home.
Let me rest.
Go back to bed.
I’ll have that dream again
And I won’t speak of it
And no one has to know of this
Pathetic excuse for love I carry in me like a dead fetus.

10
You are just my celebrity crush.
It was never supposed to go this far.

10
You are just my celebrity crush.

10
You can never love me
The same way I love you.
Ophelia Aug 2014
You're my summer crush
Sweet romance
That never existed
Naranasan mo na bang magkaroon ng crush? Siyempre oo! Sino ba naman ang hindi mararanasan iyon? Sabi mga nila, abnormal saw ang walang crush.
      Minsan sila ang dahilan kung bakit ka nag-aaral ng maayos. Sila ang dahilan kung bakit ka nag-aayos ng buhok, nagpupulbos, pumoporma, at marami pang iba.
      Siyempre, para saan ba iyon? Para magustuhan ka o kaya ay mapansin.
      Minsan mga kahit simpleng pagsasabi sa iyo ng crush mo ng "hi" ay halos mabugbog mo na iyong katabi o kaya ang kaibigan mo sa sobrang kilig.
      Pero minsan, hindi mo maiwasang magselos sa mga ka-close niya.
      Grabe, di ba? Kahit simpleng crush lang iyon, nagseselos ka pa rin, at minsan dumarating sa time na kailangang mag-move on kahit wala kayong relasyon.
      Pero paano kapag nalaman mo na may syota pala siya? Kahit crush mo lang, siyempre masakit pa rin. Kasi umasa ka rin naman na sana magustuhan ka niya.
      Bakit ka umaasa? Dahil nadala ka sa imagination mo, like magiging kayo o liligawan ka niya.
      Hindi naman lahat ng imagination ay nagkakatotoo. Sabihin naging 30% pwedeng magkatotoo pero 70% pa rin ang imposible. Kaya mga sabi nila, "Expectation is the root of all heartaches."
      Dapat matuto tayong kpntoplin ang sariling nararamdaman dahil hindi lahat ng gusto natin ay makukuha natin.
      Ang pag-ibig ay kusang darating dahil bawat tao ay may nakalaang makakasama habangbuhay. Mga bata pa tayo para royan, Hindi pa natin kayang buhayin ang sarili natin.
     May oras na dapat itabi ang mga pansarili at unahin ang makabubuti.
ZL Nov 2014
my love is like the hardest level
of candy crush.

you will never reach it
but for some,
it's worth the rush.

too much to handle,
too high to touch.
Arfah Afaqi Zia Aug 2015
My blue skinny jeans,
And creamy white shirt.
I got ready to go on a road trip.
Just as I sat in my car I applied my mascara
And drove away.

As the car stopped near my college,
I took a last glimpse of whether I looked presentable or not.
Well I did !

I was a little tense.
Then there came MISS-OH-SHES-SO-PERFECT.
She was in a red dress.
I mean are we going on a trip or to a ball ?

But that is the only thing that worried me,
Now she'll be the center of attention.
My crush won't even know I EXIST !!!!

My best friend
reminded me I look the best,
And that my crush would certainly see me.

I felt a little confident,
But in the end she got my crush.
And me ?
I'm only left alone,
Singing 'Lonely I'm Mr lonely.'

From that day onwards I  NEVER had a crush !
True story !!!! Not the plot though just a twist in this story but yea, my crush got away :(
"The Highest Quality"

The quality of assholery
Has reached the highest peak.
The quirks that once were savories
Are gone, as souls grow weak.

Boring freaks in "perfect" lands,
Tighter now, they’re bound.
Easier—those out-of-hand,
They walk the lighter ground.

Go seek the quirks, the oddities—
There you’ll find the light.
******* in their lies and greed,
That’s where the source of blight.



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



"Ding-****"

Ding-****, ding-****, I’m the fool who talks,
Here to convert you to "faith" today.
You’re a slave—one law in those walks,
To crush with orders, led astray.

Just fools to smite. To comfort, lie,
With rotten heresy to heal.
And herd them off to die.
If you "believe," your mind's unreal.

You must not "believe," you must KNOW.
Self-reflection brings the light,
That’s what will help you truly grow—
For beasts will lie in faith’s dark night.

Their lies will swell, their numbers grow,
In doctrines that enslave the mind.
Here, all religions serve the foe,
And evil chains all souls confined.

In childhood’s grip, they lock you tight.
The fool seeks others just to bind.
Ding-****, ding-****—The evil’s flight:
Don’t open doors to what you find!





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



A Poem for Aging Children, or Overton's Windows

Mama washed the frame—
The frame by the window,
Of Overton's name.
A drama in the shadow.

Overton’s windows—
It’s all that we see!
Above the law’s lows—
Devour the filth, you’ll be free!

Soon cannibalism
Through windows will spread.
The windows, the prism,
By which the FOE’s led.



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



Fools, Beasts, Lies

Fools, beasts, and lies—
Hell’s infernal glow.
Forgetfulness, it rise,
And Evil’s attacks grow bold.
All around, it’s ROT AND WOE!



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



The Family Cell

A petty world — their rows, their "peace,"
Obsessed with every small caprice.
This satyr-swarm just drains away
Their strength in quarrels day by day,

In petty fuss, in endless chatter —
No room for battles that would matter:
Like spotting foes from friends — no use —
They’re trapped in cheap and ****** views.

A cell? A cage! And in this pit,
The spiders squabble, snarl, and spit.
And what of children born inside?
Will they escape it? Will they hide

From petty griefs, from mental chains —
And taste the world beyond their pains?
But no — their childhood, sharp as thorn,
Will fester, rot, and leave them torn.

This tiny world of family ties
Will be the fool’s last, proud disguise.
No freedom in this world shall rise —
The family's a slave’s device.





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



Sobered by Soul’s Pain

If soul’s sharp pain has made you see,
You still can find a path, be free —
If Mind stands strong against the blight,
The rot, the madness, and the night.

No pain? Then corpse you are, my friend —
Join zombies on their mindless end.
So many flocks of brainless sheep,
Though drooling idiots run deep.

That dreary path — it leads ahead
Into a worldwide camp for dead.
Already now the madhouse moans,
Yet idiots march like faithful drones,

Still tame today, they trudge along,
Led by the media’s cursed song.
They do not know they'll be erased,
They're meat already — souls displaced.

They bow to beasts — that’s clear to see:
CowID showed it openly.
In this madhouse the minds are crushed —
In nearly all — that is the hush.



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



The Swamp of Stupidity

The swamp of folly — thick and vile,
The clutch of lies — a constant guile,
The stubborn, cold persistence of
Betrayal masked as law and love.

Their motto: "Serve the dark, obey!"
But that dark’s painted bright and gay.
To be yourself — insane, they say,
In this world turned the twisted way.

A madhouse — simple, straight, and grim,
Still in its early, evil spin,
Yet even now, beneath its crust,
It grows — a bloom of total Lust.





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



An Army of the People?

An army of the people? Lies.
It never lived, it never tries.
The beasts are in complete command —
And fools rush in to lend a hand.

The simpletons — so quick to trust,
Deceived by lies, by smoke, by dust.
They turn on neighbors, proud and loud —
For slaughterhouses, cheering crowds!



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



People’s Army? Don’t Make Me Laugh.

An army of the people? — Joke!
The filth’s in charge; the herd's provoked.
The crawling beasts give every cue —
And brainless cattle stomp right through.

The idiots — so proud, so dense —
Fall for the cheapest lies and scents.
They butcher neighbors without shame —
For slaughterhouses — in their name!



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



No People’s Army — Just a Herd,
Obeying beasts without a word.
They march to slaughter, loud and proud —
Their brains already in the ground.



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



The Broken Record

Goebbels — plebbels: same old song,
Played again — but now a farce gone wrong.
Lie and lie, and lie once more,
Lure the cattle with a ****** door,

Promise "Eden" through brute force,
While herding them to Hell, of course.
You shear the sheep, you roast their meat —
Just keep their minds in mad defeat.

Hold them raving through the years —
Their downfall echoes through the gears.
To ***** it up — their only art;
The dream of change? A wishful ****.



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



Same lies, same farce, the cattle cheer,
To Hell they march, year after year.
Their dream of change is just a scream —
A rotting, broken, dying dream.



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



"Money in Sacks,
Bags Under Eyes"

Money in sacks,
Bags under eyes —
Drink, and you're wrecked,
Betrayed by lies.

Better to fight —
Victory’s sober!
Aim, hit, and strike —
No drunken cover.



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



Drink and you're doomed —
Fight and you rise.
Victory’s clear —
No *****, no lies!



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



Hunchbacked Freaks

The idiots stack their lies high —
A camel’s ****’s a lighter sight.
The media, with fervent cry,
Whip up fear, lead to the night.

Two humps — they’re lies and fears combined,
The final straw they coddle still,
To bring about the fall, designed,
In filthy, wicked, hateful skill.

The spine will crack, the path grows clear,
A slaughterhouse, it’s drawing near.
Yet in this world of twisted lies,
They’ll call it health, with blinded eyes.



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



Lies and fear, they make their ****,
Their final blow, a bitter lump.
The path leads down to slaughter’s gate —
But they’ll call it "health" — a twisted fate.



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



Twisted and Fallen

Twisted, sunk down deep below,
They babble of a place they know —
A paradise, they claim, they see,
In a world where Evil’s free.

Good is Evil, so they say,
Insanity rules every day.
With lies, they push the fools around,
Sick of it all, they drown in sound.



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



Twisted lies, they call it "Good,"
Insanity in every word.
Sick of the lies, the twisted schemes —
They live in nightmares, shattered dreams.



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



All the Fools Grind Their Power

All the fools grind down their might,
Too much of this foul, crawling blight.
And you live, half-hearted, weak,
Caught in a tightening noose, unique.

They surround, they break you down —
Like a strangling world, it drowns.
Generations fail and flop —
As long as there’s "free cheese" on top.





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



Fools grind down their every might,
Strangled by the endless fight.
Generations lost in vain,
Chasing cheese, they’re bound in chains.



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



Mad Slaves

"White and fluffy" —
Here, a mad slave.
In this foggy world,
The mind’s a fading wave:

Black’s called white, and white is gone,
The body thick, but mind’s withdrawn.
Though flesh is full, the brain’s a mess —
Just twisted lies in pure distress.



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



"White’s called black," they twist and break,
The mind’s a fool, the body fake.
In madness lost, they serve the lie —
With empty hearts, they live and die.



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



Disgust

Disgusted. The shame can't be washed away,
And slavery deepens with each passing day.
Desires in FILTH? Only Diogenes
Won’t rot into ******, pathetic disease.

Love? Friendship? In SLAVERY? Hollow and dead.
A mad little serf has no heart, only dread.
What's honored? Just nothing — a mindless decay:
Get drunk, get dumb, feed your gut — fade away.

No life here — just rot, in a shameful disguise:
All "growth" is a fraud, a procession of lies.
Here Spirit is slaughtered, and Reason is banned —
Just lunatic screeching across this dead land.

And only a few bear the Light, bear the Truth —
But vanish in nightmares of treachery's tooth,
Of fake manufactured catastrophes' art,
Their cross left behind… for a fool with no heart.



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



Rotland

This isn't life — it's rotting shame,
Where spirit's crushed and mind's to blame.
You kneel, you drool, you feed — then die.
While truth is nailed and left to lie.



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



The Judas School

Trust is now change in a traitor’s hand —
They’ll bleed you dry, and they’ll call it fair play.
What’s left of your heart? Just pulp or sand,
When ruin comes swift — the betrayal way.

They’ll rat you out, sell you cheap for a thrill —
While trust keeps dreaming of wonders and grace.
Here “friends” are Judases, grinning with skill,
And “wise old advisors” — the snitch in your face.

"High feelings"? A trap. You’ll be played and abused.
It’s all cold math — the rest is a lie.
And soon, even decent ones turn and get used —
For pennies, they sell you and wave you goodbye.

The world is a Judas school — plain to behold.
A fake little virus made clear who obeys:
The freaks in white coats, the regimes bought and sold —
Unleashed their fascism in orchestrated waves.

Now Judas High marches toward the camps —
This trust, this belief — a fatal disease.
Trust is a sin: on their banner of tramps,
A red cross is stabbed through the heart with ease.



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



Judas Class

They preach with a smile, then stab from behind —
Trust is the noose for the spiritually blind.
The cross on their flag? Not of mercy or grace —
It’s driven through hearts with a butcher’s embrace.



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



The Futility of a Poet

A poet's despair — a cry in the sand,
Unheard in the void of a lifeless land.
A life full of strain, of torment and pain,
With horror that freezes the blood in your vein.

Poets are skinless — they’re born that way,
And skinless, experience won’t come or stay.
But with no experience, what can you give?
Your soul stays silent — too raw to outlive.

To write is to walk the long road alone,
Or scatter your sparks till your fire is gone.
The dangers are many — you may go blind,
Write nonsense and think it’s the work of the mind.

No fame will come if your verse has fire —
This soulless world doesn’t care or admire.
Your poems may serve just to blow off some steam,
But steam chokes the soul, kills the passionate dream.

Useless, and fruitless, and hopeless, and grim —
This path has no joy, just sorrow and whim.
But if you write true to your soul’s wild storm,
You’ll find, midst the horror, one refuge — still warm.



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



Skinless

A poet is skinless — he bleeds when he speaks.
The world wants silence. And silence it seeks.



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



The Punishing Sword and the Red Banner

The punishing sword, without red flags to wave,
No chants of young zealots, no slogans to save,
No fiery madness, no cult to ignite —
Alone, it’s a blade with no reason to fight.

Brute force alone won’t make devils the kings —
But wash out the brains of the dull and the weak,
And soon they'll be wielding their own brutal things,
Whipping themselves while they slobber and shriek.

They’ll beat the dissenters, the doubters, the sane,
Who flinch at the nightmare and echo no cheer.
Fascism's power is not in the pain —
It thrives when the coward becomes volunteer.

Then crawling and snitching become the new norm,
And bootlickers bask while the others are crushed.
So better become a “Pioneer” in form —
The helpful little creep will leave you untouched.

The sword has sunk deep in the people’s mind —
It maims every thought, kills the soul from within.
The goal of the darkness is always aligned:
To torture the spirit — by poisoning reason.





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



Obedience

They don’t need chains — just rot your brain,
And you’ll swing the whip, then beg for pain.



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



Of Greed and Betrayal

Writer D.H. Lawrence once cried:
“Shut all the schools — let ignorance reign,
Or lies and deceit will soon override,
And man will turn beast, bred cunning and vain.”

Today, it’s the doctor — a fraud in a coat,
A butcher of souls in a clinic of fear.
The world is a camp, where the dumb gladly vote
To follow the whip with a patriot's cheer.

"Knowledge" now reeks of deception and noise,
Truth has been banished — no facts, no defense.
Just loud DECLARATIONS, a choir of toys,
And traitors who sell us for trifling pence.

They hoard from the future — these ******* in silk.
Their grandchildren inherit despair.
Blood-soaked coins, Judas-bought milk —
And the end for them too... will be there.

Such is the schooling they proudly provide —
A factory breeding the coward, the snake.
To Spirit — it's torment. To Thought — it's a tide
Of shame for the Real, of Reason’s heartbreak.



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



Blood Coins

They steal from the children, they trade in the dead —
With lies in their books and a whip at your head.
"Education" breeds Judas and trains him to preach.
What soul could survive what these traitors teach?



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



Decadence in Hell

A poet’s true work is to strip every nerve,
Then strum them like strings, with no shame, no reserve.
You’ll rot into silence — unless you're the "first"?
Then you’re just a sellout, degenerate, cursed.

Ignore all the critics, the forms, and the rules —
Write what your nerves scream, not what pleases fools.
If nerves have decayed, if they've snapped or gone slack —
Then die where you lie. Don’t bother come back.

You’re always below — just a few ever burn
With fire so fierce that their minds do not turn.
They vanish like phoenixes, blazing then gone —
Replaced by the stupid who stumble along.

Now global fascism won’t flinch at your kiss —
No “sweet little poems” will soften this abyss.
So blast through the filth with the full force of flame —
Let cowards in Hell choke on truth and on shame.

When nerves are still tight, then the Heights can be heard —
Their resonance comes like a soul-shaking word.
Not all here have rotted or drowned in pretense —
Some fight with raw verse against dead decadence.





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



Hellfire Verse

Your nerves are your weapon — don’t dare let them die.
The Heights only speak when you burn, not comply.
This world is a grave, and its poets are few —
So scream with your blood, or the rot becomes you.



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



Sheep, Jackals, and Wolves

There were wolves — ask Hesse or Vysotsky’s song.
Now traitors in jackal-skin scurry along.
No heroes today — too “noble” a word;
Look up for a second — you’re gone, unheard.

In the jackal-world, there’s a different law:
Sniff for the rot, keep your snout in the straw.
Honor? A coupon. Just shred it for gain —
That’s the jackal’s life: all teeth, no brain.

It pays to be filthy — no one will chase
The jackal who kills with a cleaner’s face.
He hunts like a clerk, all quiet and neat —
Another day’s slaughter, another spreadsheet.

Now all the sheep are herded to **** zones.
Why waste the thrill? Mass death sets the tone.
The sheep stay calm — “It’s treatment,” they bleat,
While jackals howl law through the zombified beat.

Their wild new order shrieks from the screen —
Agree, or you’re mutton, minced and clean.
Doubt is forbidden in pens that stink —
A sheep with questions is meat in a blink.



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



Jackal Order

The jackals write laws with a blood-slick pen —
And sheep call it "care" as they’re herded again.
Look up? You're devoured. Ask nothing, stay small.
This isn’t a farm — it’s a slaughterhouse stall.



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



Grayness

Weakness and dullness,
Greed and deceit,
Laziness, fear, worthlessness,
With sadism’s soft beat.

False “human kindness,”
The fake, polished “care,”
Empathy's stinginess,
Folly everywhere.

Foolishness reigns,
Intellect is strange,
Primitiveness spreads —
Evil in every range.

Endlessness of malice,
Unyielding decay,
Only filth survives,
No dignity in the fray.

Only ******* matter,
Idiots swagger with pride,
Lies build up like towers,
Genocide is wide.

In prison they settle,
The norm is to bow,
Slaves to their poison,
The rot fills them now.

Boldness is nothing,
Only beasts and their lies,
Subtlety vanishes,
Truth buried in disguise.

What remains is the stench,
What ends is the mind —
The filth will be scorched,
But never the blind.



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



The Gray Curse

They live in the filth, in the lies that they weave,
Only fools rise, and the honest deceive.
The weak stand unbroken, their venom is clear —
But truth will be scorched, and they’ll disappear.



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



The Pendulum's Law

Are you tired, weighed down?
What nonsense! Strength will come,
Once you learn the law —
The “pendulum.” With it,
Your potential will grow,
When you build YOUR world,
Where creativity is the law,
And everything else is smoke —
You can't build a home on that.

You were oppressed by the world,
But didn’t become a fool.
You understood — run from the trap,
For in Bedlam, fools will shackle you,
Imposing the laws of Darkness,
In that stench, you’ll suffocate.

Only creative forces
Will rise again, sweetly.
Let what is of the Spirit,
And sanctified by the mind, be cherished.
Let it be small, the rest —
A heap of miserable waste.

Reject the lies and rumors,
Create, fight, laugh,
While on that filth, flies
Dance upon the manure.

But this dance is Vita’s:
Soul and mind are crushed,
And Light is almost gone.
Only creativity is Light,
In this world of evil, condemned.
The only advice —
CREATE! That is the answer to Evil…





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



Pendulum’s Call

When you're tired, don’t be fooled —
The pendulum swings, your power renewed.
In the world of lies, create your own light,
That’s how you fight Darkness, with all your might.



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



The Doppelgänger Puylo and the Kremlin

They blew up houses in Volgodonsk, Buynaksk—
That filthy Puylo, bringing power to the beast.
It spread like ink, a blot in the dark—
A doppelgänger leading the sheep on their feast.

He drives them to slaughter with his lying tales—
Worse than ******, the harm he has done.
The Kremlin, the filth, at fascism’s rails,
Follows orders from the world’s evil sun.

He rules as a tyrant, a brutal dictator—
Gives out decrees, and the Kremlin, they strain,
While the liar-provocateur broadcasts, later,
Spitting poison, turning truth to disdain.

Cunning lies eat away at the mind and soul—
The sheep grow duller with every breath.
And the zombobox, cold and remote,
Is either a clinic or propaganda of death.

The forecasts are grim, the bottom has cracked—
Only collapse and decay lie ahead.
If they endure this Kremlin filth intact—
Then Satan himself will be pleased with the spread.



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



The Kremlin’s Rot

Bombs explode, the lies run deep,
The Kremlin leads the sheep to sleep.
The forecast is ruin, decay, and dread —
Satan smiles, as truth lies dead.



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



The Menagerie

A swindler, spouting “truths” he never means —
A politician, bureaucrat, judge, or prosecutor.
The clutches of **** tighten like a vice,
In a world of disgrace, a universal ruin.

Two-thirds of all "seats" are filled by shameful beasts,
Walking filth, fascist trash, traitors in disguise.
And the "sweet" songs they sing are fewer now,
Turning bitter like acid, truth's demise.

The global lie has spread, and all the creatures
Serve the common master, everywhere.
Fake countries in their drunken stupor,
Tied by lies that hold the fools in despair.

They chain the masses tighter than before,
And the chief vassal is the propagandist's hand.
Two-thirds of the people, dumbed down and torn,
Have lost their minds; the damage is grand.

****, traitors, and the vile have ravaged it all,
The world has become a MENAGERIE — a sad, grim end.
Spiritual bonds between men now fall,
Satanism is the new faith — "God's dead."





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



The Beastly World

**** rule the world, their lies take the throne,
Two-thirds of the fools are now lost and alone.
The world is a menagerie, where truth is dead,
Satan now reigns, and the faithful have fled.



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



Blindness and Deafness

A bright plasmoid flashed high in the sky,
Gaze upon it — slowly it fades away.
If you’ve incarnated as a fool, you’ll deny,
“It’s all just stories,” you’ll say... thus blind and deaf.

To Pure Spirituality and the “subtle realm”…
A monster of blood and flesh — you’ve become, bound forever.
The Lyre’s a donkey’s burden, nothing to overwhelm,
And the vile creatures — as lords they now endeavor.

Memes are invented, or "funny jokes" —
Meant to mock such observations, to grind.
The pseudo-scientist, with endless tricks, provokes,
Spewing nonsense to **** all truths we find.

To knowledge concealed, all motives are dead —
Like a fool repeating “scientific” trash,
Lies intertwine, woven with lies in thread,
While the "school" is occupied by the darkness’ lash.

"Science" and "school" are now mere superstition —
It’s time to light the fires, the pyres rise.
Only Spirit and the Hidden will bring us equilibrium,
In Real Knowledge — it can’t be destroyed, no matter the lies!



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



Darkness and Lies

In science and school, dark fools remain,
Their lies are a mask, their wisdom is vain.
Only Spirit and Truth will restore balance —
Real Knowledge cannot be crushed by the fools' malice.





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



Betrayal

Betrayal has reached its utmost height,
Turning this world into pure absurdity.
You cannot be whole, a mind full of light,
In a world so corrupt, where Mammon is deity.

The traitors destroy their children’s minds,
Infecting them with poison so deep.
Then with shameless lies, they try to bind—
A father’s not a man, but a worm for the heap.

When everything is sold, meaning’s gone,
Only children left to trade and barter.
The circle tightens, no way to run,
The noose of betrayal is getting sharper.

They feed them garbage from an early age,
Like Mengele’s filth, a puppy at best.
Betrayal is inherited, passed on in rage,
It’s Groundhog Day — but with horns on the chest.

These traitors, their lands stripped bare,
Cities like jungles — chaos, despair.
But all those souls, the Universe will weigh,
And find them zero — then the vermin’s last day.



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



Betrayal's Grip

Betrayal has poisoned the world we hold,
Turning bright minds to dust, to be sold.
But in the end, the Universe will decide,
And the traitors will have nowhere to hide.





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



The Fire of Awareness

Let the Fire of Awareness engulf all Hell,
Forget all you knew — lies are spread far and wide.
At first, you won’t like it, as I can tell,
You’ll see only deformities, nothing to hide.

An inverted world, where the Spirit’s true spark
Is but a flicker, not the consuming Light.
Here in this Hell, the darkness leaves no mark—
For all are fed the madness, day and night.

This madness, this material void we call life,
Where you’re just a hamster, spinning in place.
A fog of forgetfulness, causing strife,
Guiding the world along the same disgrace.

It leads to the Concentration Camp of New Times,
Where fascism reigns, merciless and cold.
The "Red Cross" for fascism is their paradigm,
They’ll crucify all — then Hell’s grip will hold.

So center yourself in Spirit, take the road
Of discovery, where intuition is king.
Feel the Power within, let it explode—
For anything else leads to the abyss, to suffering.





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



The Fire of Awareness, short version

Let Awareness' fire burn through all the lies,
See the world twisted through false, blinded eyes.
But center your Spirit, and you’ll find the way—
For only with truth can you rise from the fray.



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



No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — but by lies, a weapon’s formed,
No limits here — it’s all to keep you misinformed.
Destruction, shame, genocide, decay,
The remnants of freedom, everywhere they slay.

No analogues! — a double-faced dictator,
The artificial pain, a blatant truth’s erasure.
A traitor official, and a cop-provoker,
Propagandists reign there — the analogues are no more.

Even Goebbels would serve coffee to their needs,
In this ultra-poor land, "values" they feed,
Like swine in their filth, soon they'll need no bread,
For they’ll feast on a super-fiend, instead.

They now call themselves demons —
The tribe of Judas, astral burps and lies.
Betrayers have become the new Wehrmacht legions,
And in this army, ******* multiply.

No analogues in human history —
Such a fall has never been.
Many have fallen, but this absurdity
Was never before something to be seen.





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



No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — lies form the weapon of choice,
Destruction and shame, they’ve stolen our voice.
No past can compare to this monstrous decay —
This fall of mankind, there's no words to say.



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



Worldview

Worldview’s the foundation, the core of the mind,
How you perceive things, that’s what you will find.
In a mind that's imprisoned, all chains and all blocks,
Few are the thinkers, the rest are just ox.

When the psyche’s in line with the animal’s tread,
The yoke’s always ready, the herd’s being led.
Not a world, but a zoo, with the stench of decay,
For the "vegetable" type, it’s a suffering day.

Fake drugs, fake viruses, new wars in the making —
They herd the flocks like before, for the taking.
The herds, as a whole, deserve this fate they abide,
For the "truth" they all know is the TV’s loud tide.

Shift your focus — you’re a Spiritual Being,
Out of the herd, though the chances are fleeting.
It’s hard to escape — the flock’s clouds are thick,
The sheep march to slaughter, the Mist’s cruel grip.

The herds are but food, always that has been,
This slave world’s a cage — it’s time to burn it again.
How vile, how disgraceful, how corrupt the swine —
For the spiritual ones, the herds cannot align.



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



Worldview, short version

Worldview is the key, how you see is your fate,
In a mind full of chains, there’s nothing to create.
When the herd’s all that’s left, the world’s just decay —
For the spiritual ones, the herds are in dismay.



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



Eternity and Infinity

Give the slaves half a liter, a heap of lies,
That the Führer spits out every day in disguise,
Also some food, and eternal mirages —
Immortality for slaves! No need to analyze.

Here everything's different, that's why fascism thrives,
It rules through fear, to frighten the herds of lives,
Then push a new foolishness, dressed as salvation,
But beyond that — no more, no more hesitation!

The record's been played, but it’s ETERNAL still!
Madness grows stronger — now vinyl, it’s real.
And the whole little world has sunk to the floor,
Where the INFINITY of their stupidity soars.





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



Eternity and Infinity, short version

Serve the slaves lies, and food for their pains,
Fascism's still reigning, through fear it remains.
The world’s fallen deep, where fools hold the reign,
And their stupidity's endless, in infinite chains.



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



The Solution to the World's Problems by Apocalypse

Tumbling through the void,
Just explore, don’t aim too high,
Let your soul, in simple joy,
Reach for ties with the Most High.

A satanic world, yet God
Is unspeakably far away.
Building in evil, flawed,
You multiply NOTHING in your way.

A Cataclysm will save us,
It comes from far afar,
It’ll destroy the fascism,
Though the burden’s heavy and bizarre.

To see the Evil and not change
A thing within this place,
The hammer will hit, sharp and strange,
And Death will solve it all, with grace.





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



The Apocalypse Solves All

The world is twisted, far from light,
Fascism will fall in Cataclysm’s fight.
Evil seen, but change too slow,
Death’s the answer — that’s the final blow.



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



Satan

The receiver, that filth, it has in its grasp,
And an army of vermin, who’ve betrayed it all.
No need for floggings, execution’s past,
For shame, fear, and whining no longer call.

When once all was done — on the conveyor,
Far more nourishing, souls to collect,
No need to gather — fools bring them to bear,
For universal treachery, lies in the air,
And beyond money, no one’s direct.

Only a few fight against the Evil,
They’re called fools, and their efforts ignored,
Unable to harm it, yet still so medieval,
The horned goat has made everything deplored.

But a twist of fate, a cataclysm near,
It will sweep this shameful Hell away.
The fools will vanish, along with their fear,
And those FEW will find salvation that day.



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



Satan’s Fall

The filth holds the receiver, lies all around,
Few fight against Evil, their efforts unsound.
The fools will vanish, their reign soon to end,
Only the Few will salvation transcend.



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



Harvest Time of Darkness

The world’s a brew of lies and fear,
And fear breeds deeper with each sneer.
You stand already on the block
If you march with that rotting flock,

The herd they flatter as "the crowd."
Best walk alone, away, unbowed:
If clothes define you at first glance,
The jailhouse marks your last advance.

Stay wise, stay honest — flee the pack,
The world’s a madman’s hunting track,
Where scoundrels ride on slaves below,
Yet slaves themselves — too blind to know.

Now is the Harvest Time of Night:
The mind in chains, the spirit slight.



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



Pseudo-Science, or The Black Letter as Black Mark

The blackened letter — the blackened brand:
Each line is dripping with deceit.
Their rotting “science” stinks on hand —
It rides the fool in the backseat.

See global warming: humans "fume,"
While cows let loose without a care.
And clueless people just assume
Whatever CRAP the LIAR dares.

There’s proof galore — go take a look:
Their stitched-up lies are crude and loud.
Enough! We’ve read their crooked book —
We’re not their sheep. We bite. We’re proud.



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



Search Instinct

The search for truth — that burning trait —
Is what makes humans truly live.
While fear and sloth and bowing fate
Are all the herd can ever give.

To swallow lies without a blink
Is cattle’s mark — a soulless mess.
When all is madness, stop and think:
To feel the truth is to progress.

Even rats inside a maze
Drop their food and flee the night.
Is it instinct? Is it craze?
Or madness sparked by lack of light?

Madness reigns — it chokes, it stinks.
Yet rats outmatch us, inch for inch:
They dare to doubt — while man just sinks,
Drowned in a sea of coward’s cringe.

Forget the herd, forget their script —
Their ready answers all are lies.
Seek your own — through ash and crypt —
Or be a rat... who never tries.



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



The Ego Cycle and Paranoia

The ego’s loop, in fear entangled,
Distorts perception to the core —
The mind gets lost, confused, and mangled
By all the filth and inner war.

This loop of fear and false suspicion
Is perfect fuel for any scheme:
Scare them first — then with precision
You plant whatever in their dream.

To fools, all nonsense becomes law —
"Approved by experts," fed like meat.
The ego walks toward the flaw,
And **** just watch, enjoy, repeat.

The ones who rule this global ward —
They know the script. It’s not obscure.
The ego's cancer marches hard,
And every ***** feels secure.

So now he swallows every sin,
Mistakes the poison for delight.
His soul's gone soft. He won’t begin
To bite — his mask fits just right.



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



When Time Speeds Up

When days fly by and blur away,
Something’s wrong beneath the skin.
The surface smiles, but deep in gray —
Your soul’s in chaos, lost within.

When you burn bright — time stretches wide,
Each moment vast, intense, alive.
But if you’ve shrunk and lost your stride,
Then you’re too numb to even strive.

Time’s not "knowledge" — that’s a fake:
That “truth” is poisoned, full of lies.
They chain your mind until it breaks —
Those horned “lords” in priestly guise.

They’ve built this cage, this blur, this race,
Where time speeds up — a cursed delight.
The rats all hide in cozy space,
And wait for demons to feed them right.

The Spirit lives beyond all time,
But time’s a noose they’ve wrapped around —
By spawn of Hell who make this slime,
These worms who rot the holy ground.



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



Weapons of Mass Deception

Lies and traps, and staged offense —
That's the main game in this place.
Shake the idiots, make them tense —
And they’ll swallow every case.

Two waves fill the poisoned air:
Fear and falsehood, broadcast loud.
All the rest’s just cheap despair,
While Hell reigns above the crowd.

Every system, every name
Rests on ****** that sell their voice.
They lie, they hype, they fan the flame —
If we don’t shake, they cut our choice.

Blow a tower skyward, then
Blame it on some foreign trace.
Tweak the laws, deceive again —
Freedom wiped without a trace.

Too much horror to contain
In one poem, brief and tight.
If you trust these fiends — you’re insane.
You're a dumb, pathetic blight.



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



Blank Page

A blank page waits — it pulls, it calls,
It begs for that first fateful line.
The first — a valve. Then silence falls,
And words begin to flow just fine.

If the poet’s spirit burns,
The lines will pour, both strong and right.
But if his gift no longer turns,
He’ll spill out rust — not words, but blight.

The page is pure. And if your soul
Is just as clear — it shows, it speaks.
No foolish noise can make it whole;
Only truth is what it seeks.

Let the Heart speak first — then Mind
Can shape the frame, refine the sound.
But if no voice inside you shines,
No use in waiting for it now.

For if the Mind commands the Heart,
The song is doomed before it’s born.
You can’t just bolt a door to art —
You’ll make a mess. A lie. A scorn.





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



“Servant of God”? Then You’ve Been Had

"Servant of God"? Your mind’s been wrecked —
God needs no slaves. But demons do.
Those horned and filthy fiends collect
Obedient cattle — blind and true.

They roast their meat not in a pan,
But in delusions, bold and loud.
Each lie inflames the minds of man —
This is no world — it is a shroud.

We live in Hell. And breaking free
Is not a tale from sacred lore.
It is a challenge to the Me —
To Spirit, burning at the core.

No dumb book will show the path.
The chains of others bring no gain.
Think for yourself — or feel the wrath
Of borrowed wisdom turned to chain.

The Mind must serve the Spirit’s light,
Or else you lose the sacred thread.
This isn’t style. It’s not a rite —
It’s life or death. You feel it — dread.





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



God needs no slaves. The Devil feeds
On minds that kneel and call them "creeds."
Your chains are lies. Your prayer’s a bribe.
Break free — or rot inside the tribe.



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



You drown in lies. The rat breaks free.
Who's closer now to truth — or me?



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



The herd obeys. The rat resists.
You serve the dark — it barely twists.



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



No truth is handed. None is owed.
Seek — or rot on their dead-end road.



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



If Heart is silent — stop the pen.
No Mind can fake what's true, and when
You try — you stain, you smear, you miss.
The Soul writes clean. Respect the bliss.



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



Your fear-built ego blocks the light —
You praise the chain, you beg the blight.
You lick the boot and call it fate —
While truth stands armed outside your gate.



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



Your "science" reeks.
We smell the fraud.
We’re not your sheep.
We bite. We’re God.



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



Lies in your lab coat,
filth in your creed —
We burn your banners.
We’re done. We lead.



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



A blackened mark for
a blackened mind —
Your truth is rot.
You’ve fooled the blind.



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



If you trust the screen — you’re owned.
If you fear — you’ve been dethroned.
Lies and terror breed control —
You’re their target, not their goal.



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



Time is a trap, a choking thread —
A gift from demons, masked as grace.
While truth stands still, the herd runs dead —
Their clocks devour the human race.



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



Psychotyranny

Psychotherapy? No — Psychotyranny!
A tool to leash a dead and beaten mule.
The herd’s gone mad, and shrinks, with sick uncanny
Smiles, outdo butchers. Lies? Their basic rule.

Their twisted “theories” — Freud’s obscene inventions,
Other mental tortures — madhouse filth and flame.
The mule is dead — a zombie — no redemption.
But freaks rejoice: a dumbed-down slave’s their aim.

Dumb us down from childhood — school, indoctrination —
They **** the soul and crush the mind instead.
No true physicians here — just exploitation.
They skim the cream off every life gone dead.

These wounds are planned. They warp your mind with terror,
With filth and panic, till you’re sick and small.
Show a hint of mercy? Fired for that error.
They profit best when you can’t think at all.

They breed our madness, feed it through the ages —
“Help” exists on paper, nowhere real to see.
Their science lies. And while we rot in cages,
They gut our minds — their goal? CRUSH utterly!



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



Psychotyranny

They broke our minds to keep us tamed and low,
Called it “care” — a lie dressed up for show.
The shrinks are wolves, the patients led to slaughter.
Truth drowns in pills and propaganda water.



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



The Poetry of Self-Immolation

The poet’s cold fury burns brighter than steel —
No weapon on earth strikes deeper or truer.
Let madness around us devour and reel —
Our answer to Hell is: “We shall endure!”

It’s time to return to the Source, the beginning,
And burn this vile world in the fire of truth.
Forget all the fascists, the fog, the false winning —
The Source wipes it clean, renews us like youth.

The poet — a fakir, a dervish, a flame,
But silence and patience will not always stay.
Now rage rises up — no longer tame —
Self-burning is poetry’s final way.



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



My verse is a blaze — not a prayer, but defiance,
A torch in the dark, not a tearful compliance.
This world must be burned, not mourned with regret —
Let poetry rise, a firebomb threat!



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



Through the Looking-Glass

I’ll never see a world where Truth and Honor
Defeat betrayal’s rotting, creeping blight.
This age, like leprosy, corrodes and hollows —
It feeds on those who burn the brightest light.

Only one lie holds any real dominion:
“Super-money” — that’s the god they trust.
It rules this rotting realm with cold precision.
The Stepan Razins vanished into dust.

Among the fools and crawling human weakness,
We drag our days, then die, then start anew —
And each rebirth — more hopeless, dumb, and bleakness!
The fools have multiplied — their grip holds true.

To see this once again? A fate far crueler
Than simple death — annihilation's best!
What grows is fear, and chains grow ever cooler,
In this warped mirror-world of filth and jest.



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



Mirrorverse Strike

This world is a mirror — cracked, diseased, obscene,
Where gold makes gods and truth dies offscreen.
No rebels left, just clowns in chains and smoke —
Let fire erase what mirrors never broke.



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



The Inner Realms of Soul

No bonds, no flags, no chains of duty,
No faith in lies — that’s how to stay a man.
Obey, conform — they steal your beauty
And herd you straight into their slaughter-pen.

Obedient cattle in foul enclosures —
That’s what they call “the state,” “the law.”
The proud, the bright face swift erasures —
The mind and spirit meet their final draw.

So some escape into the silence,
That realm within, beyond their reach.
New fascist masks, the same old violence —
The Goat now rules, and morals bleach.

The world grows poor, dives toward disaster,
The fiends accelerate their track.
Only within can one stand faster,
While filth and ruin flood the black.





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



Inner Strike

The world is rot — ruled by the Goat and chain.
They brand the soul, then flush it down the drain.
But deep within, where tyrants cannot tread,
The fire lives — unbroken, though half-dead.



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



Doomed

Without the Power that births Creation,
Tradition’s “art” is mere stagnation.
In this grotesque world, true form can’t grow —
What’s called “creative” lacks the soul to flow.

No spark of Source? Then all is murk —
Reflections warped with lies that lurk.
And so this doom cannot be shaken:
All’s off the mark — when Soul’s forsaken.

But true Creation — that sacred Flame —
Lives far beyond the fascist game.
Yet most still toil in dead routines,
Half-blind with fear, devoured by machines.

The slaughter by fascism floods every land —
Not humans now, but clay in demon hands.
They mold obedient beasts from men,
Through lies repeated again and again.

But Forces of End, of righteous unmaking,
Will rise to halt this global faking.
Beast-born decay will meet its close —
For Nature revolts where filth overgrows.

And Death will come — not as damnation,
But clearing space…
for true Creation.



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



End Before Creation

They burn the soul and call it “art divine,”
While beasts are bred by lies in every line.
But filth can’t last — the end ignites salvation:
Death clears the way… for real Creation.



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



"Elections"

You’ll choose a doctor or a pilot
With far more care and scrutiny,
Than you’ll ever give the “president” —
Clean-shaven, smiling wide, deceitful, "free".

He speaks so smooth, what’s more to say?
For the people, he’s the man, they say!
But when he blabs of “freedom’s” call,
And “democracy,” it’s just a fall.

He offers recipes, so grand,
To fix it all — yet they all fail!
Year by year, the “people” buy the lie,
For the man’s a clown, a swine who prevails.

Invisible, the swine is the one
Who set the test, and he has won.
The people, as always, fall for the fun,
And in the lies, they’re gone, undone.



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



The Clown’s Game

A clown in charge, the lies they sell,
While you pick doctors with care, oh well.
Democracy? Just smoke and mirrors —
A fool's parade, while truth disappears.



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



Control of Soul Over Mind

An impossible task, no doubt —
Luck won’t help, nor endless shout,
Nor the madness, tears, and cries —
Only inspiration, soul’s full rise.
But here’s the rub — the strength is weak,
Always fading, failure peeks.
Without the intellect to bind
The Spirit’s force, what will you find?
A mess, a drag, and endless bore,
Only nonsense reaching your door,
If the swine that lead the flock
Sell their souls for soup and talk,
And craft their lies so slick and sleek,
No truth will pierce, their grasp is weak.

An impossible task, you see —
To tame the soul’s own mindless steed,
“Intellect” — a ***** that’s bought,
These creatures know, and never fought.
In lies they drown, with every breath,
They smother those who challenge death,
And bend their minds to evil’s course —
Dogs envy their corrupting force.
They drown the talent, twist the truth —
A war, not brawl — a battle’s youth.
Lies ****, and truth is cut away,
Like CowID, that shows the way.
The fool, deceived by feeble faith,
Follows the beasts into their wraith,
Raising fools to mock the mind,
In total lies, the fools are blind.

The world is rotten — hell below,
The stench of media’s foulest glow.
They rot the soul, and steal the will,
And crush the brain, unthinking still.
But if your soul can master mind,
The beasts can’t touch, they’re left behind.
That’s how you save yourself from doom,
In a world of *****, filled with gloom.





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



Soul vs. Mind

The soul must tame the mind’s blind bray,
Or beasts will lead you far astray.
Lies **** the truth, and fools will fall,
But spirit’s strength will conquer all.



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



***** Colony: "Problem-Reaction-Solution"

A ***** colony in the sea,
The brain’s a trickle, ears full of dung.
Though not all is woe, it’s misery —
The sea of lies, the tears that’re flung.

Steamers bring their hollow lies,
A cargo of the baseless truth.
Misfortune grows, it never dies,
Their work’s just making pain, uncouth.

The twisted fools, their only aim:
To shove more problems in the frame.
Jokes forgotten, no more games —
No more dilemmas, just the same.

Stress. Oh hell! Prepare the plan —
How to hoodwink every man.
The ***** colony, decay —
If you believe their lies, you’ll pay.



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



The *****’s Lie

They breed the lies, then sell the pain,
Make fools of men, then shift the blame.
The *****'s game, a rotten scheme —
Believe the lies, you’re caught in steam.



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



The Howl of the War Propagandists

As a war propagandist,
You’re shot down, since you were born,
A different foe: “upbringing” —
Preparing you for slaughter’s horn.

This war herder, a stitched-up freak,
A devil’s trick above the meek.
In every pen, the world’s a shoot,
All our pens have turned to loot.

CowID showed the tale,
Not much left, too faint to hail.
The herd is driven to the camp,
Slaughtered by the twisted stamp.

War propagandist now —
He’s power, law, and shows you how.
The fools can’t see, they’re blind to note,
As they munch, they drown in hope.

And under crunching, howling din,
Those mad of mind will meet their sin,
The fiends of hell will wipe them out,
And history’s done, there’s not a doubt.





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



The Propaganda War

They feed you lies and call it law,
The herd is led, too blind to draw.
The fiends will feast, and minds will fall —
Propaganda’s grip, the final call.



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



Learn Not to Break

Learn from the cats — wild, streetwise,
Full of lazy grace and surprise.
Do they have fleas, or endless sin?
The lies of “warriors” are built within.

Just like sarcoma, deep and raw,
Who here is wise? No man, no law.
Satan’s their guide, they kneel to him;
To the beasts, slavery’s grim.

A tiny cat will chase away
The dog, to keep the pride at bay.
While lies corrupt and gnaw the soul,
They crush the weak — that’s their goal.

Where’s the insight like the cat’s?
The “dogs” are beasts, worse than that.
Mad and wild, their lies destroy
The meek and lost, they’ve no employ.





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



Master of Subtraction, or The Path Without a Path

Up the dust-choked rise,
Like climbing rays of light,
Though nerves may rot and die,
(But for all, I fight),
Not fooled by "Heaven's" lies,
I’ll flee from filth and blight,
Where souls have been destroyed,
I’ll flee the endless night.

No more to stay in Hell,
Not a moment more —
Like Don Quixote, I rebel,
Against the madness they adore.
Madness, filth — too little else,
So I rise with might,
Rejecting rotten thoughts,
That poison mind and sight.





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



Advice of the Old ****

Stress resistance comes from exercise,
While women and liquor — poison and lies!
And the steady run will help you through it,
Like a dynamo, it’ll charge you to it.

It’ll drive out the nonsense, that weighs you down,
The nonsense that kills — now, people are clowns.
Trust no one, relieve your stress, and hope,
Find your own way, laugh at the dopes.

Increase your critique, trust your instinct too,
Reject the filth, let their madness stew.
With a sharp mind, you’ll crush all the vile,
In this world of madness, daring is the style.

Seek and dare. The run will aid the fight.
Sneeze at the filth — let fools chew their bite.
Fight fascism, genocide — show them no mercy,
Or chaos will reign, and you’ll be their prey, a tragedy.





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



Swallower

They spew their lies, with force and heat,
To distract from questions we repeat;
With filth they cloud the vision clear —
Thus roars the furnace of Hell’s sheer.

From questions, who these fiends may be,
And who they serve, whose goal they see?
In lies, like frying oil, they stew,
No crack of light in Hell to view.

In lies, they’ve wrapped it all up tight —
A perfect seal to block the light.
Their souls, their minds, they've nearly killed,
Like targets shot through, pierced and drilled.



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



Luciferian System, or Paper Money

"Risen" in the market trade,
But to the depths, they quickly fade.
Paper reins and lies so vile —
A tide of filth, a wicked mile.

You ride in circles, round and round,
Forgetting life’s true, deeper ground.
You’ve harnessed dreams to chase a lie —
Paper’s all that’s left to buy.

Spiritual fire, flashes of mind,
Consumed by greed and wealth you find.
Money spreads like pestilence,
A curse that makes no recompense.

The System built a flea market show,
What use are memes in a fool’s woe?
Cash and thrills, that’s all they crave,
While reins decay and people slave.



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



Whom You Encounter...

You meet the dulled, the brainwashed, the misled,
Their bloated pride divorced from any reason.
They're fed with lies and fears inside their head—
The kind that nourish falsehood, hate, and treason.

The worst of it? The state-bred fear campaign,
Where fools parade as rulers of the nation.
If fear and evil thoughts infect your brain,
They rot your soul and wreck imagination.

Ideas — that's the root. And evil feeds
Them to the crowd as "values", grand but hollow.
New dogmas rise — and new insane misdeeds,
With beastlike minds too dumb to doubt or follow.

A frenzy of delusions, lies, decay,
And fear plus fear, then fear again — in layers.
It ends in death, though priests will try to say
It’s "life"... just dust dispersed by final prayers.



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



Fear-fed and hollow, beasts obey—
New creeds arise, and minds decay.



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



The Beyondness

“Seek not the Truth —
just drop opinions.”
— Zen Patriarch Sosan

Seek not the truth —
just slay belief.
The truth is Spirit, calm and brief.
Burn down your fears,
stop pouring lies —
The truth has fled this world of slime.

A global rot,
a fascist game,
With media dulling every brain.
The sane are few —
a scattered spark
In seas of madness, sheep, and dark.

The fools are meek,
the thugs are loud,
And lies spread thick — a toxic cloud.
All views are false
when soul is gone,
When Spirit’s light is not turned on.

Look deep within —
no fear, no fakes —
There, Light will rise as silence breaks.
It won’t be easy —
sloth runs deep,
And thought itself is sick with sleep.

Only intuition
can make you whole,
It is the compass, it is the goal.
Truth isn’t near —
it’s beyond the known.
And you will reach it
once ego’s gone.



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



Truth won’t be found through thoughts or lies —
**** the ego. Let Light rise.



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



Flickering

They brand you fast — a clan, a trade, a land —
The tribal mark stamped deep into your mind.
Thus, Primal Thought is stripped by sly command:
A global fraud, sensations redesigned.

Names flash like ads, while chains of “values” cling
More tight than shackles iron ever could.
And so, the masses worship everything —
Obedient, blind, and stupid for “the good.”

Cunning and cowardice take up the space
Where truth and spirit used to stand with grace.
A rotten trick, compensatory shame —
Each wave of fools breeds more of just the same.

They swap the labels, but the game’s the same:
Fascism dressed in every kind of name.
Be it ******, or Mao, or Churchill, or Tsar —
One filthy pack, and the filth’s still in charge.

The real beast hides — it rules from the fog,
While global “Tao” is madness in a clog.
Fear doesn’t grow like flowers in a field —
It’s sown, then fed, its harvest pre-concealed.

They grow it with care, they groom it with flair —
That’s what “real politics” always declares.
The zombie-screens flash jesters and ****** —
So rulers need not whip you anymore.



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



New masks, same chains — the plague is old.
They breed us blind, and sell us gold.



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



Combat Psychotherapy

To "adapt" your mind to hell —
That’s their treatment plan. Oh well.
A cheerful donkey in the bin,
While the global madhouse spins.
Reason? Gone. And Spirit? Dead.
Conscience? Trampled, left unsaid.
Is this tale or tragic farce?
Chekhov wrote of such a ward —
Number Six. But time flew past...
Did we change? Or lose it fast?

No — it’s lost. And lost for good.
Mass hypnosis, poison food.
Schools of idiots, screens that lie —
Churn out drones, and truth must die.
When the crowd is ripe and mad,
Then the blast of mass psych spasms
Wrecks all minds, makes reason shatter —
That’s the core of war-born patterns.

Beasts now rule this stupid Earth,
And why war? To prove their worth?
No — it’s bait. The perfect cheese
In the trap that drops with ease.
Poisoned souls? That’s not enough —
Darkness breeds more devil-stuff.
Freaks in rags of thought and power
Train insane in every hour.

Adapt the madness for the war
Against the soul — that’s at its core.
And fate, with all its twisted jest,
Grins cruelly at this loony quest.
They’re no pawns — more like disease,
But they’ll wipe the board with ease:
Kings and pawns, and every fool —
All consumed in madness’ rule.





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



Adapt the soul to serve the fight —
And call it healing. Pure black light.



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



No Film Today

No film today — the director’s a fool,
The script was sold to some corporate tool.
What’s left to show? A slop for the sheep,
So foul it reeks of rot too deep.

Flush it straight down — that’s all it earns.
This “projector”? Just a toilet that burns.
The world’s gone septic, sunk in waste,
And “critics”? Coroners. No taste.

They poke through corpses, call it review —
Of rot and stench, they always knew.
And still the ****-flood won’t be stopped,
Since media thrones can’t be topped.

We gulp down lies as sacred truth —
The end? A crawling, mindless brute,
Obedient, vile — a soul long dead,
Who feasts on filth and bows his head.



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



The film is dead. Long live the slime —
They sold your brain to filth and crime.



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



Those Who Shatter Worlds

The ones who crush this world to dust
Don’t do it blindly — no, they must
Correct the odds, direct the flow,
So herd-like minds won’t even know.

The crowd obeys “desire’s path,”
But that’s a rigged and charted math.
In Hell’s Domain, the laws are clear —
Obey, consume, and disappear.

It’s not just greed — it’s full control,
Propaganda scripts your soul.
“Education” forged in vice,
And monsters rule us — cold as ice.

A beastly gang now grips the Earth,
Their puppet-master mocks all worth.
Name him plain — the Demon’s mask,
While idiots still fail the task.

They rule like fools, but still they burn
The world again — no will to learn.
The sun blazes brighter still,
But not by some demonic will.

The darker things become each day —
The closer you’re to void and grey.



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



They rig the odds, then torch the sky —
Obey the lie, prepare to die.



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



Division and Unity

"To bring the many to the One — that is the root of beauty."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC


Not to unify — but break:
That’s the path of fake "progress."
Love the fragments, for their sake —
Crushed and stamped beneath the presses.

Then forget the whole you were,
Lose yourself in cheap consuming.
Rot in fear, obey the slur
Of media filth and soul-assuming.

And thus the world comes to its end —
A camp of digits, cold, controlled.
Division breeds the final trend:
A nightmare forged in lies and code.



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



They shattered One to sell us dust —
Now chains are built from fractured trust.



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



On Methods of Curing Cretinism

A sheep-brained, virus-ridden clown,
A zombie soldier — this is End.
Where fascist beasts have seized the crown,
And madness reigns — their perfect trend.

The bottom’s gone — the hole is real.
The idiot now leads the crowd.
For beasts, such fools make perfect meal —
Just feed them lies, then flush them loud.

The world’s digested, flushed in lumps,
A giant **** of “civil thought.”
What’s left to serve with these dumb chumps?
Some brains — but most are sold or shot.

So few still think, and less each day,
As rotten minds infect the stream.
Regression screams. The sick will stay —
No cure for them but fire and flame.

To save the Spirit’s last remains —
That is the task, that is the aim.
A Cataclysm shall break the chains —
Burn cretinism. End the game.





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



No cure for this — just holy fire.
Burn down the swamp of brute desire.



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



“History” — Penned by Hacks

"History repeats because we lack historians with imagination."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec


It’s all written by hacks — that’s law.
Even “history” gets their flaw.
A villain funds some myth to spread —
A sellout scribbles lies instead.

No honest mind will take the bribe —
He knows that trash will twist his tribe,
And choke his children in the end —
Let Evil warp what truths depend.

The media twists “what really was,”
Distorts the world for filthy cause.
Today or yesterday — it’s hell,
And ruled by one who hides it well.



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



Lies write the past, hacks stain the page —
And Hell returns in every age.



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



The Cleansing to Come

"The lesser evil must be praised as good."
— Niccolò Machiavelli


Evil grows by its own plan —
The “lesser” soon becomes the grace.
Each step down, it fools the man,
Till rock-bottom hugs his face.

And now we’ve hit it — CowID
Made it plain for all to see.
What do maggots call “the good”?
Whatever keeps the price tag free.

They crave cheap junk, a stable rate,
They plug their ears, deny the loss.
But Earth is gone — it’s far too late.
The filth will burn beneath the gloss.



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



The world is lost — enjoy your screen.
The purge begins to wipe it clean.



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



I'll Build a Castle in the Air
Crowned with a Tower of Delirium.
A carefree life — beyond despair —
With rules I wrote, my own Imperium.

But orderlies came in a pack,
And with them marched a cop in tow.
They dragged me off — no coming back.
The law is clear: No dreams. Just woe.



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



Dreams are banned — the world’s decree.
Build a castle? Welcome, psych ward key.



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



“Victories” and “Change” Beneath the Yoke of Satanism

"Many triumphal arches were later worn as yokes."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec


When Evil wins, the **** proclaim
Another “triumph” in its name.
And soon the herd is yoked once more —
A different chain, the same old war.

Each “victory” is just disguise:
One yoke removed — another flies.
“Change!” scream the screens with fervent glee —
While necks are chained more zealously.

The Media howls: “A golden age!”
As lies replace the iron cage.
From yoke to YOKE — the people fade.
Their gods are dead. The devil’s paid.



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



From triumph arch to choking yoke —
The “change” is real — now bend and choke.



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



Socialist Realism

Chapaev, Petka, Anka — all
Are cursing through each bitter brawl.
The commissar? Their “guiding light” —
A live reproach, a holy blight.

“Freedom” thrives by feeding lies,
They build a camp — with “socialist” skies.
The grand experiment won’t last —
Their commissar’s a clueless ***.



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



They built a camp, they called it “bright” —
But filled it full of flies and blight.





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



The Universal Lie

"To lie is to insult myself more than the one I lie about."
— Michel de Montaigne


Self-inflicted pain,
The world pushed to the brink.
Truth is slaughtered once again —
And lies are what we drink.

That’s why the masses rot:
Defective minds, diseased.
So many “holy Sundays” bought,
So much delusion pleased.

They need their daily dose
Of fiction, fat, and ease —
To fill their guts with empty hopes,
And rot in Global Lies and grease.



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



They **** the truth, then cheer and feast —
The global lie now breeds the beast.



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



The “People” Rose — So They Were Told

“The people rose!” — or so they claim,
A puppet screamed the noble aim.
“Stand tall again!” — the order sticks,
Then off they go to **** for kicks.

Not for a flag or sacred land,
But medals, cash, a ****** hand.
What’s rising here? Just swamp and fog —
Centuries deep in filth and slog.



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



They “stood up” straight — with boots in gore,
Still sinking deeper than before.



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



The End Draws Near

The end is coming — can't you tell?
But reason’s jammed, not working well.
Fear-fogged lenses smear the view,
So nonsense passes for the truth.

Through rot and lies and veils of dread,
The herd denies the doom ahead.
They call collapse a minor glitch,
While media bark, whine, curse, and pitch.

The people “live” in fairy tales,
Wearing delusion like chainmail.
And those who speak without a leash
Get crushed by fools in helmets — each.





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



The world is burning, blind with fear —
And cowards jeer when truth comes near.



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



Poisoned Lines

These lines are laced with venom — pure.
But **** won’t read; they seek no cure.
To strike the proud, to break the wise,
We crush their fear, unmask their lies.

They're filled with dread, with rot and shame —
Few walk the world still clean, still sane.
This realm is ruled by fevered cries,
Where Darkness thrives on global lies:

Lie, and threaten, crush the meek,
Till minds are cattle, dumb and weak.
Submit — and you become the swine.
That swine’s the Darkness by design.



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



Submit to lies — you rot inside.
The swine of Darkness wants you tied.



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



The Frailty of Mankind

Serve the Eternal — nothing less.
No “human warmth” in that abyss:
It’s fleeting, weak, a dying breath,
For Earth today is ruled by death.

The human now’s a devil’s brand —
An icon of a doomed command.
CowID, rashism, fear and lies —
We “live” beneath the final skies.



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



Mankind’s the mask of Satan’s game —
The end is here. And we’re to blame.



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



The Old Optimist

The youth, a fool, is led by smiles,
His mind is pure — it runs for miles.
But fear would break him, tear his heart,
So lies and delusions play their part.

We raise the false, and blind his eyes,
While shame is buried deep in lies.



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



The lies lift him, but truth would break,
His mind is weak — too lost to wake.



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



The Lone Wolf

Are there rules, or instincts wild?
How many lies, how much denial!
Here fear and howls and vicious barks,
The world is drowned in endless dark.

If you’re outside — you’re cast aside,
To beasts you’re mad — they’ll take no pride.
They’ll show the pack, just what’s at stake —
The mind is dead, they howl and shake.

The lone wolf’s path is few and rare,
From them alone, some truth may flare.
For all the herd — they bring no gain,
Just stupid noise and endless pain.



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



The pack is weak, the lone wolf fights,
The truth is born in lonely nights.



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



Madness Strikes Like Machine Guns

Madness mows like machine guns' fire,
Crossing flames, no chance to tire.
The infantry’s fate, it’s set in stone,
No matter how tough, you're on your own.

Generations march to those same guns,
From every squad, just one survives.
It’s no coincidence — the mind’s undone,
For the beast’s will, the goal deprives.



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



The guns are deaf, the truth is mute,
The beast controls, the mind’s pursuit.



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



The Global Cockroach Darkness

The darkness in the cockroach’s lair,
Is hard to grasp, it’s everywhere.
In fascist filth, where lies abound,
The beasts will lie, without a sound.

Few minds remain, so sharp, so pure,
In wars of blood, or thought demure.
And if one’s found, they’ll crush the soul,
In battles where the mind's the goal.

It’s not the Dark, but Fear that reigns,
And in its wake, the filth remains.
The world of traitors, lying ****,
It stinks of death — the horrors come.

Sanitation, that's the key,
To cleanse this filth, and set us free.
But time is short, the rot’s too strong,
The stench has lingered far too long.





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



The rot will burn, the filth will fade,
The beast shall fall, the mind’s crusade.



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



Personality or Schizophrenia

Is a lie the core of self,
Or is it just schizophrenia's stealth?
A different thing? Isn’t it clear?
This question’s simple, never fear.

Yes, schizophrenia!
For the self to vanish,
When the mind dictates,
And the soul will diminish.

No book will tell you this truth —
The world’s gone mad, there’s no proof.
Only a few will fly like birds,
Not writing books, but breaking words.

They won’t write pages —
To sober up the sages.
Maybe I gave too much,
So bury your mind in a crutch...



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



The mind is blind, the soul decays,
Only truth can clear the haze.



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



Dead Flesh

They yap — ignore it!
They lie — ignore it!
The world’s got no grace:
Lie bolder,
Be colder —
Among the “kings” who...
...decompose.

Alive? Move ahead!
Leave the rabble,
All the lies of the BEAST—
Away from decay!
The Spiritual Path
Goes through the fright
Of the dead-“men.”
Ignore! Ignore!!!

"Other worlds,"
Gifts of the mind,
And beauty’s find
You’ll reach, my friend,
When you LEAVE,
Then you’ll drive the nails
In the coffin of lies and diseases—
Or be gone,
Not worth a cent.



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



Lies and death — they rule this land,
Only truth, when you take a stand.



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



Drive Fear and Nonsense Away

The death of the heart’s a way to hide,
To escape reality, and crush the fear inside.
So they drive QUESTIONS from the mind,
Fill it with nonsense — that’s the way they find.

A cocoon is formed with rotting core inside,
It’s death, but alive — now it no longer hides!
Yet to the BEASTS, you’ll be but a pelt.
This ostrich world will sink you to where it’s dealt.

The bottom’*****. The zombies walk, wretched and slow,
No future for the living, just a hollow, dead flow.
Freaks without hearts, the judas, they cheer,
But the film will end with death’s final sneer.

Dead to the dead. And for the living, awaits
A mockery of paradise, a quarantine of fate!
If the heart still beats, it’s bound in this cocoon,
So drive fear and nonsense away, and make it gone soon!



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



Why is the Pseudo-Life Suspended?

The thread’s been snapped? Or just a whim?
You hang by nothing — lost within.
A life so wretched, just “for show,”
That’s why you’re here — and just a shadow.



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



"The Distant Light"

With sorrow deep, the Soul is veiled,
For by the "distant light" betrayed,
The fools rush on, deceived and blind —
To Hell they race, no peace to find.



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



Victory on Paper

"Of cheerful good" they write,
Yet in the ravine, you’ll find,
The traces of the game —
That evil leaves behind.



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



Boxing Nonsense

Mini, ****,
AI, proxy —
In nonsense, it’s all fused.
The world’s insane:
With boxing’s game,
It’s turned to rage, abused.



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



Restoration of Strength

As much as needed —
So it will be,
To the brink —
Then they’ll return to me.

Save yourself?
No need for that —
"Life" becomes the noose
For the rat.



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



Furnace of Rage

I’ll heat the furnace white-hot,
And to hell with it all;
In the Dark, I've reached the spot:
Only Fire can end this rot.



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



Smash This Hell

Smash this Hell —
Or you’re a rat.
If you’re pleased with scraps,
With sheep in your pack,
And the master’s your media,
Your goal’s in the past —
You’ll never escape:
The rats will eat fast.



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



Oil Painting, or Global Injections

"School" — life’s tonic: no pill
Can describe the madness found,
Add some shots to **** the fools,
And it’ll paint the scene around.

An “Pre-heartattack” picture forms,
What a mess, it’s all a wreck!
If idiots believe in Evil,
Then the world’s on its last check.

Few are not these idiots —
A drop within the sea,
It’s all gone, it’s all lost,
The end of Thought and Liberty.



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



Pomegranate, Gift of the South

The pomegranate, southern gift —
A life-giving delight.
If health is sinking, swift,
Try this fruit to make it right.

You’ll feel it in an instant —
The nectar pure and sweet,
It drives out the resistance,
And turns the tide to feast.

Healthy? It won’t harm you,
There’s nothing better, true —
It gives you strength anew,
So take it in, it’s due.



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



Harvest of Darkness

The world’s a pit of fear and lies.
You stand alone — or you will die.
The mob is filth. Their leaders — worse.
Each breath they take, a deeper curse.

The wise don't beg, don't sell, don't bow.
They fight — or rot with cattle now.
The **** ride slaves, then drown in shame.
The time has come. The blade — the flame.

No gods, no dreams — just war and dirt.
No second chance. No shield. No hurt.
Stand hard. Stand fierce. Or rot away —
The Harvest reaps who fall today.





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



The Traditional Vile World

"Lost in words, confused in concepts,
Man loses the scent of truth, the taste of nature.
What strength of thought one must have,
To suspect this moral stench —
And with a spinning head rush out
Into the fresh air,
Which everyone around is taught to fear!"
Alexander Herzen


Born in a Hustle-Bustle Bedlam,
You're drowned in fog of empty words.
At first, you trust your dad and mama,
Delighted by their fairy worlds.

As years go on — more myths, more stories —
Fake science shines like Perrault’s tales.
Yet slowly darkness claims the glories:
Through lies and fear, pure evil sails.

They drug your mind — “morality” they name it,
While daily bread enslaves your soul.
You spend your life just stuffing stomachs,
Oblivious you're losing all.

The media’s constant foul persuasion
Will rot your heart without a trace.
You won’t perceive your own damnation:
A ****** fool — a soulless face.

Thus "traditions" are constructed —
A tool for Darkness, bold and broad.
Through "sacred customs," souls corrupted
Are shaped into an empty horde.



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



Overstrain of the Creator

The artist’s fatigue is beyond all measure—
Words miss the mark, and toil brings no gain.
And “life,” as it does, flies past without pleasure,
A tangent, indifferent to beauty or pain.

Alone? Of course. That’s the toll and the treasure.
A curse for the fools—but a crown for the few.
He’ll squeeze out his blood on the canvas with pressure—
No tears are allowed. There's too much to do.

No whining, no meekness, no crawling submission—
That’s filth for the fakes, for the weak and the bored.
It’s rage without end, and the ruthless ignition
Of strength that exceeds what the flesh can afford.

And what does it yield? A result that is tragic:
No help—unless lying becomes your new voice.
Through darkness you walk, without hope or with magic—
But after you die, you may finally rejoice.



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



Bleed or Be Nothing.
No tears. No pleas.
Just burn through the darkness
On shattered knees.



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



For Whom the Bell — and Other Tiresome Crap — Tolls

For whom the bell — or school bell — tolls?
For whom drone sermons, grunts, and rolls?
For all. But deaf and dumb remains
This world in chains, too bored for brains.

What sings the clown upon the stage?
Of myths — the “truths” of every age.
The herd just loves that fairytale,
It masks the rot, the stench, the jail.

When noise assaults from every gate,
Our ears explode — it's all dead weight.
It’s time to think — but droning floods
Will drown each spark beneath the duds.

There’s just one law: endure and crawl,
And trust the talking heads — that's all.
These idiots won’t wake until
The world breaks loose from Bedlam’s will.

The Global Bedlam soon will split,
Collapse into a screaming pit.
But now — more lies, more talking heads,
More “songs” to rot your mind to shreds...





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



The bells all toll — and still you snore.
They feed you myths, you beg for more.
But Bedlam cracks — and when it falls,
No lie will prop these rotting walls.



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



The sky will scream, the earth will tear,
The myths will burn in poisoned air.
The bells will toll — not one will hide.
The Beast you fed will now decide.



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



The bell is cast. The end is near.
The age of lies dissolves in fear.
The sleepers fall. The blind shall see.
What was — shall burn. What is — shall flee.



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



And lo — the voice like thunder spoke:
“The chains shall snap, the veil be broke.
The night shall rise, the proud shall drown.
The lie shall wear the iron crown.”



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



The Traditional Rotten World

"Entangled in fake words and notions,
Man loses truth’s and nature’s taste.
How strong must thought be, through the poison,
To fight the stench and flee in haste!"
Alexander Herzen

Born into Bedlam's filthy spitting,
You're drowned in smoke of rotten lies.
At first, you trust your parents’ fitting
Of fairy tales for shut-down eyes.

The myths grow thicker, filth grows faster —
Fake science dressed in Perrault’s grin.
Yet creeping through this bright disaster,
True Evil plants its roots within.

They **** your mind — call it “morality,”
While bellies rule your toiling life.
Your days dissolve in ******* —
A breathing corpse, devoid of strife.

The media’s foul streams will bind you,
Corrupt your soul and rot your core.
You’ll never feel how filth enshrines you:
You’ll stink of death — and ask for more.

That’s why they sing of "noble traditions" —
The sludge through which the darkness spawns.
Through sacred lies and dumb submissions
They mold a herd for future dawns.



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



Harvest Time

Fear and lies — the world's disease.
Bend your neck — or die on knees.
The herd obeys; the **** command.
The last of men make their last stand.

No dreams to chase. No gods to pray.
The blade is near. The hour — gray.
Stand hard. Stand sharp. Stand all alone.
The Harvest comes. Protect your own.
s May 2015
i once had a crush
he was a fine young man but
he just crushed my heart
now i hate him lol
Dian Legados Dec 2014
Your presence makes my heart beats fast
And makes me want to forget the past
I want you to stay and make this moment last

I keep on stalking on your account
And I was shocked on what I have found
It makes me want to lay on the ground

It’s just a simple crush
But it made my heart crash
Just like a plane crash

~ Legados, MD A.
Frankie Gestone Mar 2013
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time.  He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.

Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.

When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.

The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.

It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.

While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.

On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.

He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.

“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.

The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.

As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.

That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.

They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.

Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.

He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.

He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.

The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.

He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.

Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
I know this crush can't be anything more,
But when I look at you I see you look at me,
It sends chills down my spine and all I can do Is smile.

I know this crush is kinda new,
But the moment I met you I thought about how cute you were,
and just today I thought about how nice your lips were,
I wondered how they'd feel against mine,
The thought made me smile and laugh,
It made me happy.

I know this crush has just grown
But when your sitting next to me my hands grow shaky,
The words I'm trying to write come out so sloppy,
Your copying my words down though,
I find it amazing you can read it,
I know I barely can.

I know I barely know you
But when I was having my own little freak out,
You tried to make it better,
We're not even real friends,
But you can still make me smile and still make me laugh,
All you have to do is be in the same room,
This crush,
If that's what I'm suppose to call it,
Why won't it go away,
It just stays,
And it scares me,
because my heart is aching less,
and my mind seems to have your name roaming wildly.
Desirinne Mar 2017
Noong una kitang makita
Ako'y napa tulala't napanganga
Sa kagandahan ng loob mo ako napahanga
Na sabi sa sarili ko'y ikaw na nga

Di malilimutan ang iyong magandang ngiti
Pag ika'y nasa palgid, ako'y di mapakali
Nangininig ang tuhod na para bang naiihi
Nama! Ako sayo's nabighani

Lunkgot sa buhay aking nadarama
Sa tuwing hindi kita nakikita
At kung sa panaginip ay kasama ka
Sana nga, hindi na muling magising pa

Pinapanalangin na sa muling pagkikita
Makasap at makasama ka
Nawa'y wag sanang umatras ang dila
Para'y masabit matatamis na salita

Pinitg ng puso ko'y nag iba
Pana ni kupido saki'y tumama
Paghanga sayo'y di na matakasan pa
Dahil CRUSH KITA, ALAM MO BA!!
ALORA
3-13-17
Echo Oct 2014
~Bell rings,
It's you and me,
You've got me laughing.
Crush, Crush, I'm mad about you!
We don't like the romance!
We just laugh and flirt all day,
It always seems to go the perfect way.
Hearts around your name,
Wow, goodness, I am so lame!
I like you, you can make me smile.
Talk to me if even for a little while.
Crush, crush,
I am not shy,
You are such a handsome guy.
Yes indeed, I dream of you,
I hope someday those dreams will be true.
How do I read your mind?
How can I tell what's inside?
Do you love me the way I do?
Or do you see us in a different view.
Whatever the case, I am sure it's you.
Let's see if you'll leave me some clue!~
We like the same music and you never fail to make me laugh.
ZL May 2014
I have crushes
because I am unable
to commit.
I can pick up affairs
and when I'm tired,
I quit.

I have crushes
because I am an obessessive
romancer.
I am infected with lust
which always spread
like cancer.

I have crushes
because I have yet
to fall in love
yet lucky enough
to have my heart
broke into two.

I could never love you wholly
this is why I 'crush' on you.
Shelby Azilda Jun 2014
I barely know you,
Yet my words just spill out with no filter.
I want you to just see me,
Without a mask and a little off kilter.

Crushes are weird.

— The End —