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Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
<>
The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
Why try when ya can buy?
I made like seventy comments.
Yeah he donated tweenty bucks and has more
points than I.

Respect dont come with the side of a card.
It's not totally broke.
But to demolish it were trying hard.

Mr Robbins can you just please keep your
mouth shut.
we'll buy ya a case of wild turkey
you drunk *** pain in the but.

Point and poetry really dont mix.
what is this nascar?
Nothing that some strong drinks cant fix.

The doors are locked  lets semd in a spy
to see whats going on in that joint.
Hey i just  won at beer pong  
did that get a point?

Were all  about exposer so get your beads.
Avoid the restrooms at the Pub.
look  in the red light district of hello
cause everyone's got needs.

I gotta point for logging in and  one for
coloring within the lines.
And got no license  for like
few thousand dollars in unpaid fines.

Heres a point for me.
And heres a point for you.
With the ******* a few
fellow poets did point and said they were threw.

Yet here i stay slightly sober
happy to stir the ****.
That  i refuse to play the game.
Hey how many points do i get to quit?

Drinks are always on the house at HPs
number one joint.
And if ya waste time getting  anry with
me then ya really didnt get the point$
Hey  ya know what a great poet once said  girls  just wanna have fun.
Okay  maybe that doesnt make  much sense  but really
who wants  to cuddle?  
200 points im just saying  hahah  cheers Gonzo
brandychanning Jun 2020


neglect and respect do not rhyme,

{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?

IF

all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}


WHAT,  
what do you stand for?
neglect and respect
rhyme,
you stand
RH 78 Oct 2015
Forever etched in the mind.
You.
Perfect pure beauty.
All consuming.

Forever etched into the mind.
You and me.
Timeless love.
Fleeting glances.

Forever etched into the mind.
Me and you.
Undiscovered love.
Sleepless nights.

Forever etched into the mind.
Us.
True love.
Endless.

Forever etched into the mind.
Him.
Unknown but destructive.
Weakness exposer.

Forever etched into the mind
You and him.
Heart break.
Emptiness.
I learnt the harshest lesson in love..... Never take it for granted! This is a summary of my first true love which I thought would last forever. How wrong could I be!! She ran off with her boss from work!!!

My perception of love has changed over the years and believe it to be a transitional journey which is fluid. It's healthy to reflect on past experiences. We're only human after all and all make mistakes.

Masterpieces are not made without the artist having the odd smudge!
This is my first love smudge.
Lucas Pilleul Jun 2017
-  J'aimerai t'embrasser comme le ciel embrasse les nuages.
T'observer comme le renard observe sa proie.  
Et je voudrai te dévorer comme l'ogre dévore les Hommes.

- Je préférerai m'enfuir, me cacher dans les feuillages.
T'oublier, ecraser mes souvenirs comme les herbes qu'on broie.
Et je souhaiterai ne plus jamais te revoir, en somme.

- Oublies tu ces journées entières passées en ma compagnie ?
Ces belles matinées, voir se lever le soleil.
Et ces soirées, où je te regardais l'espace d'un instant.
Où tu pensais à l'avenir, à notre vie future.

- Crois tu que je renie mon passé, quelle est cette manie ?
Ce sentiment inexplicable, tu sais je te surveille.
Et cette idée insupportable que tu gardes indéfiniment,
Qui consistait simplement à m'exposer, comme une peinture.

- Vois tu, bien que bonne, soit l'étendue de ton âme,
Je ne puis imaginer autre fin à cette terrible histoire.
La folie n'a pas de corps, mais tu n'es que furie.
Emplie de jalousie, de vanité, comment puis-je m'en défaire ?

- Sais tu au moins si réel est ce drame ?
Tes reproches, je m'en fou bien, tu manques de mémoire.
Folie sans corps et furie sans nom, Pardi !
Qu'en est il de ta déviance affolante ? Peuchère !

- Une fois la chose dite, jamais tu ne pourras la retirer.
Sais tu au moins de quoi je t'ai sauvée ?
La reconnaissance l'oublie tu, si pas même tu acceptes tes erreurs
Un jour viendra ou tu seras obligée de te débrouiller sans moi.

- En toi je n'ai jamais eu la foi !
Je vois que tu as toujours l'esprit farceur.
Si un jour de la noyade tu m'avais retirée,
M'en souviendrais-je sans doute.

                                                         ­ - C'était un soir d'été,
Quelle honte m'infliges-tu là !
Si un jour j'avais su qu'on en finirait ainsi,
Jamais avec toi je serai parti.

- Crois tu que j'étais avec toi par bonté ?
Mon seul but était d'éviter chez moi le pugilat.
Entre nous il n'y avait même pas d'amour
Cette histoire me fait trop de peine, finissons en un jour
#10
David Johnson Nov 2013
As a quiet exposer of poetry,
I fantasize an enigma of colors.
A transition of calculated emotions,
From memories woven to the brain,
As a quilt, would be.

I have written on stones & brick.
Hoping somebody knew,
That I was there, once upon a time.

We were bred to defend & protect,
A kindness,
Crafted so rare,
To shield the good,
From Evil & it's hidden agenda.

It is I,
Who knows how we fix ourselves.
How we get justice,
For failed attempts to try.

How to restore faith,
In the lighthouses & buoys, out on the ocean,
With only a constant dance with the currents.

How to,
Enable ourselves,
To look another in the eye,
& see them for who they are.

And simply die & live
As the purest blue-blood.
jeffrey conyers Aug 2016
If , you be quiet.
You get ahead.
Be quiet and play the game.

Another word for don't rock the boat.
Be a cover-up instead an exposer.

Strange truth, this has help many rise through all ranks of society.

Presidents, mayors, governors, wardens, secretaries, various executives.
Fear, to be true to themselves.
Then again, bills help you to be quiet.

Even when you see wrongs before your very own eyes.

Whistleblowers, don't tell to tell.
Many only does it for the wealth.
And if looked a little closer at one time they was participants.


Going along with the schemes of an evil mind dreams until they got terminated.

Stay, not silent if right.
Truth stands out at all times.
Sipping on that juice
You are tripping
Screaming and laughing all at once
I'm flying getting my game on
Mystifying you be wearing your *** kicking boots
Smoking one, putting that roach in a jar
Popping vicodin  just to stay alive
Not even sure if I exist
Selling Adderall's so the ******* can stay skinny
Sweet little boy shot down on his big wheel bike
All I can do is grab the mic and send the message on
People on the street begging for money for addictions
******* **** just to get high
What if that was your daughter?
Hoping the soup kitchen is open
Do they have a empty bed for me to sleep tonight
Dressing in color
It's a true story this town is in demise
The water is not even safe to drink
Lake Huron to the Flint river
The town showing no love
Then Rick Snyder declares a state of emergency
The first person to come forward Sasha Bell
Was found murdered in her home as her small one year old son was left to roam
She had a law suit against the Flint water crisis
She is now silenced a baby without a mother
Nobody is winning here
90 people were sickened from exposer 12 died    
Delivering  bottle water to Veteran's, as they are losing there homes
People who have worked there whole lives
People just trying to survive
I grew up in lower Michigan and my family and friends are directly effected by the water crisis. .I know the town is a mess. The crime rate the shootings of innocent people/ I would love to see Flint be what I remember as a child.
mike merrifield May 2018
The vices which have been pulling me down,
From a life existence of which i had live before
The ill forsaken twist of the mind  has taken me under the spell of which I now endure
My death is soon
End time
Killing the swine of man kind
No more the riches that lie in their Vanity with prescriptions of a farewell existence of a twisted surveillance
hidden between the reality and the profanity of the mind that’s been hearing the deliberate words of certain messages delivered which sounds absurd…..
……such displeasing details the thoughts of situations at hand are well seen and heard by me  in the intrusions mind-****** layer which became  reality for me because the existence at first had given me a gift to here such wisdom for all ive been imprisoned and tortured and left with out any social ability too mend appropriately  back into society
17 years later I'm still unnerved with such hypocrisy life's a trip in this devious secret society . far beyond the jealousy of the nature displayed in favor dedicated to the intruder beyond all glory I give them a profile sickend to the pedophiles galore. no not me will I be mind ****** manipulated and scorned through your curious desire watching the behaviors given until pleasures delivered that satisfied the Hunger of a deviant composer forbidden closer quite well taken perceptions blundered obscured exposer of character  oh aww things of which God and your mother should never ever witness or conjure .
Hear them calling me!!!!!!
Marco Raimondi Aug 2017
Alors le sein blanc pour exposer les jeunesse,
Il brise le visage affligé
Je vois dans votre oyeux, c'est un passager
Des chagrins, des souches, des coffrets confesse
Star BG May 2019
Spring has knocked on my doorstep.
Birds being the doorbell
for eyes to perk.
Frost melts away revealing
trees of green and flower bloom.

Sunshine is the exposer
of photos.
And peace aligns with breath.

I stand grateful to open door
as my heart smiles
for a visitor
I have met before.
Inspired by Edmund Black
Thank you. You are a gift.
Everything's been made for me
and said for me.
I can read between the lines
when every one is hinting to me
That they can read all of my mind,
So I'm feeling naked lately
Like I never had anything to hide.
And I don't know why I wanted too
I guess I didn't realize there is no lie.
And I can feel you know me
My every ache and desire
you never even told me
But I saw your face change by the fire
And in that moment our souls spoke
I could feel the exposer
I knew no judgment from you
And that's when I found closure.
Sonnet.


Pascal ! pour mon salut à quel dieu dois-je croire ?
- Tu doutes ? crois au mien, c'est le moins hasardeux,
Il est ou non : forcé d'avouer l'un des deux,
Parie. À l'infini court la rouge ou la noire.

Tu risques le plaisir pour l'immortelle gloire ;
Contre l'éternité, le plus grand des enjeux,
N'exposer qu'une vie est certes avantageux :
La plus sûre vaut moins qu'un ciel aléatoire.

- Pitié ! maître, j'avance et retire ma main ;
Joueur que le tapis sollicite et repousse,
J'hésite, tant la vie est légitime et douce !

Tout mon être répugne à ce choix inhumain ;
Le cœur a ses raisons où la raison s'abîme,
Et ton calcul est faux si je m'en sens victime.
Whisper softly,
no need to raise your voice.  
I'm Here just like always,
that is my choice,  
and I'm listening to you,
just like everybody's wanted.
You finally found some one to tell
all those things thatve left you haunted.

We are enclined to hide
yet we find comfort in exposer,
we are wired to lie
at the risk of some one getting closer.

But I'm tired of garments
hiding my truth
I'm tired of guilt
staining my youth.

And I want you to know,
that you can be free.
If you just let go
and put your trust in me.
Graff1980 Dec 2020
I write as well,
tell myself
I’m not made
to perform on stage.

The blank page
is the place
where my grace
is the greatest.

I display this
humanness
by touching depths
I haven’t even
swam in yet.

I drown in
the sound of men
woman and children
moaning,
begging
for a living,
when no help is given
by those in power
who have been
taking without returning
a single cent
of human decency.

I can write clearly,
because I have time
to edit each line,
the same ones
which I hide behind
and pretend that I
am helping
when I am just
doing enough
to not be
the enemy,
less of an ally
and more of a lubricant
that helps
my own guilt
slide off
the walls I built.

I have tried
to understand
how those
who were denied
a helping hand felt
and mirror it
in my poetics.

But I am pathetic,
self-indulgent
pain appropriating
social movement
inactive student.

Taking out loans
I never plan
to payback,
other than
in writing
human events.

Some say,
I am a good man,
but I feel unworthy,
uncomfortable
because even though
they heard me
I don’t think
they were listening.

Life is a prison,
and I am self-convicting,
admitting that in my laziness,
I might as well be complicit.
I write so later on I can ignore it.

Work hard to explore,
then exploit what I didn’t earn,
take all that I have learned
and try to make a better world,

but no matter what I do
I feel like a poser.
Even when I am trying to help you,
I feel like a cheap magician trick exposer.

Though, I am trying to foster,
a compassion movement,
I am just an empathetic
poem writing imposter.
Delusions

If you dare not face the madness
That has nested in your core,
You'll be crushed in Hell’s own badness—
Where the mind exists no more.

We’re at threshold. Hell lies open.
Crowds are swarming, wild and loud—
**** all pushing, blindly hopin’
To be first among the crowd.

From our youth, the rot is growing—
Only few will stand and fight.
Most are wrong, and barely knowing—
That alone’s a bitter might.

“Education” means sedation—
Drills for cogs in slave-machine.
Madness passed through generations—
Is the finest cage they’ve seen.




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



The Rant of False History

They say history repeats —
Wouldn't progress do the same?
No — it crawls through wild deceits,
Spurred by madness, press, and shame.

Lies decay us, deeply rooted,
While "the past" becomes a tool —
Used by "scholars", dull, deluded,
To control and to befool.

“Less is worse,” they preach of chains —
Twisting truth to fit their schemes.
Tyrants' filth in old domains
Now gets sold as noble dreams.

Was there ever darker slavery
Than the one we now endure?
CowID proved, with grim bravery,
Just how deep the filth can lure.

It’s the same old madness spinning —
Nothing new beneath the sun.
Only sarcasm feels fitting
For this circus they call “run.”




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



Almost a Joke

Tricks bring pain —
Life’s a stunt.
Less you strain,
If you're blunt.

More of fight,
Less of noise.
Dare the light —
Not fate’s ploys.

Tricks are chains,
But you’re free
If you chase
Love’s path — see?

Walk, don’t juggle.
Truth is near.
Jokes may struggle,
But without them — disappear.




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



Rewards and Reliefs

A bagel's hole — your grand reward
For seeking truth and staying bold.
Oblivion is the just accord —
This mad world’s promise has run cold.

The past will peel, the “new” will fade,
For nothing new is ever real.
It’s all a weary, cheap charade —
Just wait for Death to sign the deal.




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



A Hole for a Crown

A bagel’s hole — that’s all the prize
For poets, writers who won’t sell.
The ****** in suits, with glossy lies,
Are crawling everywhere like hell.

Add countless traitors to the game,
And all the weak who kiss the boot
Of thugs who rise through bluff and shame —
Their “honors” soon will just pollute.

But here’s the twist — in days now gone,
At least they read. Today? Not much.
Now in this century, the pawn
Is tested by a viral sludge:

A stream of memes and TikTok reels —
Their minds were flushed by viral feeds.
The truth? Replaced by shouting deals
From armies selling junk as creeds.




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



They sell you rot, then call it gold —
You speak the truth? You're bought and sold.
The prize is nothing, just a hole —
While lies devour the public soul.



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



The Future of the Global Madhouse

Three-fourths here don’t deserve to breathe —
These ******* feed the coming lash.
Because of them, the fiends beneath
Will grind us down — no joke, no flash.

CowID paused — a war on hold.
New plagues are planned by wicked swine,
For empty minds do as they're told,
Still drunk on fear and fed with lies.

This herd of fools, in full decay,
Will drag us into chains and hell.
The beasts are betting all will pay,
Since drooling mobs obey so well.

They’ll grind us down with false alarms —
Just feed the filth to vacant brains.
What lies ahead brings no calm charms,
Just storms, just pain, just choking chains.

Yet there's a joy — a final spark:
This madness will not last too long.
The madhouse burns — and in the dark,
The sun will rise to right the wrong.




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



Challenges in the Circles of Hell

Let challenge meet the challenge face to face —
Not by denial's sterile repetition,
But honor clashing clean, with no disgrace,
No fear, no doubt, no cowardly submission.

Hell's spirals twist, and trials there abound.
What once was wild, rebellious, blazing bright,
Seems tame the deeper down — where fools are crowned
For trading truth for comfort in the night.




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



False Time of the Luciferian System

Is it a test of time — or weight?
Time’s worse: it feeds the Dark's domain.
We call it "time", but what we hate
Is slow decay of soul and brain.

This "time" is rot — a masquerade,
A cloak for entropy and lies.
And still the Beast is served, obeyed —
Both then, and now, beneath dead skies.

It isn’t time — it’s time’s disguise.
Above time dwells a higher sphere,
But we, the spawn of sunken minds,
Have made it custom to adhere

To lies — from priests and pseudo-thought,
Who ******* Space and Time with rules.
They sell their souls, then sell what's taught —
A creed imposed by mindless ghouls.

Don’t trust. Go deep. The path is yours —
Within you dwells the light, the key.
Let intuition open doors,
But keep your mind alive and free.



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



The Union of Truth and Sludge

A mix of essence, filth, and grime —
That’s how verse crawls through modern time.
In worlds of ****** and creeping dread,
Our nerves burn out, the soul half-dead...




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



Expanding the Bounds of Knowing — Together, Without False Science

The self — a cycle stuck in place,
A dull routine we all embrace.
Critical thought? They chase it off —
No space to question, all is scoffed.

The “atom” world — a beast’s design,
Born from lies fed as “divine.”
More cheese to trap, more filthy lies,
A bait to blind collective eyes.

Together only Hell’s escaped,
But all asleep — world’s night draped.
Will dawn arise? There’s just one light:
That Dawn will burn the shame, the blight.




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



Information War

Tanks don’t fear the mud or grime.
But "divs" of leaks are primed to strike —
You must fight "divs" with cunning crimes,
Or lies will finish what they like.

Pour the sludge into the net,
Crush the dumb lies, no regret.
Bravery’s needed just the same,
Even if the pay’s so lame.

Fight as guerilla, free,
Anger’s fuel for victory.
All the fiends will get their due
When the world’s last hours are through.

(Note: “***” — a block element that marks a text fragment.)



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



Create!

Create — don’t rot or fake.
Strive — don’t dream or break.
Wither, die, if forced to lie—
Truth’s the only way to fly!

Oceans drown in lies and slime,
Sold-out fools in darkest time.
CowID’s cult, the fascist reign,
Praised by ****, a vile stain.

But harsh justice draws its line —
Everyone must pay in time.
They’ll burn the madhouse to the ground,
Build new Halls of Lies around.



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



The Purifying Fire

The Devil’s mark is branded here,
On all, it burns, sharp as a spear.
Fiends strike lies like scorching flame,
They scorch, they ****, they spread the shame.

They brand the souls with ruthless spite,
Bold, sly, they thrive in darkest night.
But now the game comes to an end —
A fire burns to cleanse and mend.

A different flame will purge the stain,
Bring joy to souls freed from their chain,
Destroying fiends in fiery sweep,
Awakening the pure to keep.




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



Fair Winds to Your Stern…

Fair winds beneath your keel, take flight —
Escape this Hell, abandon night!
This Shame will vanish, fade, and fall:
Each vile fiend will answer all!

They’ll pay — even those who cower,
Silent, trembling, lost their power.
Salvation lies in flight alone —
So leave this Shame, this Hell, this Throne!




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



Tales and Dances

Tales and dances, all rehearsed —
Wind-up fools, forever cursed,
Even old, the masks remain:
Puppeteers, the ****, the stain.

Clumsy lies the liar spits,
Only fools believe these bits.
Crude, absurd, a tyrant’s grin —
“Kind uncle” hides the sin.

Axes drawn ‘twixt good and ill,
Sew white threads to scare and ****.
Anything they’ll justify,
Pseudoscience to crucify.

CowID’s “science” fools the herd —
More such “wonders” will be heard.
This vile breed, a *****’s spawn,
Knocked at heaven — now it's gone…
Hell rejoices — demon’s dawn.




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



Like a "Dream Factory"

So many films on cops and law,
But art? Almost none you saw.
The cabal sets the scene that way —
Gloss on freaks to make them sway.

Then “four-eyes” or “geek” in frame
Looks like fool to madness’ game.
Sheepish, dumb, sold-out in suit —
Like Holmes or heroes in old route.

Work goes on to "normalize"
Those who lose their sanity’s prize.
A “normal” label stuck on queer —
Nonsense from that dream factory here.

Souls derailed, humanity drained,
Reason turned to babbling, insane.
Watch that stew — pure carelessness:
Leaves a bitter soul’s distress.




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



Lie and Finish Off...

Fuss and pointless strife,
Strife that’s never just —
Fuss feeds lies to life —
The end: a total bust.

Focus just on survival —
Kills the mind inside.
Lie and lie, revival?
The soul crushed by the tide.




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



Cramming, Zeal, and Discipline

Youth’s bright fire burns to ash,
In cramming dull, petty stuff,
And zeal misplaced, a crash —
Not thinking’s roughest bluff.

But copying vile false gods —
Made just to drag you down —
Such fate for many clods.
If bold, you’ll see the clown.

To **** talent’s no great feat —
Make "nothing" idolized,
Lie shamelessly, repeat,
And with discipline, despised.




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



Horseshoes for the Donkey

Jehovah’s just a horseshoe
For a two-legged ***,
He died — they forge anew
For all their worthless mass.

These donkeys—backs all cracked—
Drag pointless loads in vain.
A carrot dangled, sticks cracked,
Calm seas hide all the pain.

If you’re not a donkey,
They’ll hunt or cast you out.
These devils rule the money,
Slap horseshoes all about.

A real God is creation —
He needs no slaves or fools,
But died in witch’s nation,
Bound by their cruel rules.

For two-legged donkeys only,
Horseshoes hold such weight.
The normal ones walk freely—
Protected by their fate.



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



Fertilizing with Ash

Don’t waste your breath on fools —
They’re lost beyond repair.
Just kindling for their tools,
They’ll burn it all to air.

But after night, at dawn,
The world will bloom with ash.
Like children, hearts will spawn,
Not minds that only clash.

If heart and mind align —
Then balance lights the way.
But how to teach the blind?
They’ll never understand, no way!




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



System Corruption

Once you’re inside—the game is known;
No way to dodge decay.
Blind, mute, to speak is to lie shown—
Truth dies, replaced by sway.

Negative selection’s rule,
The system’s famed decay.
Once thieves were plain—now lies the tool,
Master deceit’s the way.

Each one’s bound tight with dirt and shame,
Control by blackmail’s grip.
Avoid it—every nation’s lame,
Fascism’s tightening whip.

We’re stuck so deep, no way to win—
The road ahead’s descent.




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



Mirages of Corrupt Stumps

Spin your tales, Emelya, not empty lies —
No use in this world where falsehood thrives.
All empty talkers lay soft disguise —
But falls hurt deep, where mirage lies.

Their falsehood’s weak, can’t cushion the blow,
Their goal’s just to push you down low.
Truth here is moss, old and slow —
You’re mossed yourself if you call it woe,

And value fools who sell cheap breath,
Spin or believe — you’ll save your skin’s death...
For now... but you’ll vanish, lost in the fray —

“The soul must toil,” or waste away.
No mere illusion is Hell’s decree:
It’s mirages from corrupt dead trees.




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



Failing...

The collective farm, "A Hundred Years No Yield" —
A metaphor for mind’s lost field.
The mind keeps failing, failing hard,
Soon all will vanish, leave no shard.

Total lies and dumbness spread,
An "industry" of fools ahead.
To bear this filth is crime so grave,
Yet ages pass — the cursed wave.

So here we stand, the end’s in sight —
The farm’s a desert, dead of light.
Those who don’t fight, they’ve lost their fate —
The fiend will send them to death’s gate.

The fighters may fall, yet save their soul,
While foul disgrace consumes this whole.
World rotten, vile, ****** to rot —
Your time is done, your fate is shot.




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



The Core of the Chaos

The core of Chaos — deeper dread:
A world torn loose, by lies misled,
Where best among us falls and dies
Beneath deceit and dark disguise.

Lie bolder, sharper, full of spite,
Spread fear to choke out all the light.
Let fraud grow vile, more cruel still —
Corrupt the soul with poisoned will.




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



On the Farm

Today it’s you,
Tomorrow me —
The cattle wait,
The swine foresee
The hour of slaughter near.
The whole Earth’s like a farm, my dear.
If not a pest, then rise, awake —
Or die, **** it, for Heaven’s sake!




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



So-Called "Revolutions"

Leather jackets, flushed red faces —
Here come commissars to drown disgraces.
In wild hangovers, anger swells —
That commissar could never break his hell.

Stupidity rules here, all around,
And **** unites in packs, profound.
So all this madness drags and lasts,
The world’s a prison — no escape fast.

Red-faced mobs, obedient drones...
Are these humans, or just food on bones?
All "revolutions" lie and cheat,
Foam rising up from wombs deceit.

That shameful **** commands the froth —
Hidden deep, but leather croaks the sloth,
Peddling lies to slaughter’s gate.
Do slaves believe? Then that’s their fate!




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



Producing Chaff

To write a “kind” and gentle rhyme —
Is not a task for fools with time.
Be courteous, precise, controlled —
But not a fierce verse to be told.

Consider all the aims and schemes,
Conditioned by deceitful streams.
Falsehood rules through every age,
No mind alive to turn the page.

They’ll chew the chaff of “goodness” fed,
And shove it straight into their head.
Add poison, but the fool won’t know —
That’s just the way the idiots grow.

They swallow lies spun neat and slick,
Dressed as “truth” in every trick.
Not fools, but crooks behind the scenes,
Cooking lies in ***** means.

Enough? Shall we then strike the flame
With furious verse to end this game?!!




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



Cake of Filth

The more a banana republic rots,
The grander grows its symbol’s spots.
The duller crowds, the fouler breed—
The bigger grows the lies they feed.

This falsehood carries heavy weight,
Though threads of white still weave their fate.
A world of lies, a distant drama—
A glorious cake made out of karma.




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



Steadfastness

Unyielding truth — unshakable stand,
Or else you’re just a twisted man,
In filth and stench where **** have found
Their “salvation” in the lies around.

Corruption thrives in vile deceit,
They turn the best to worthless meat.
Unyielding truth means to resist—
Let **** be shaken by the fist!

The world decays in madness deep,
But not the sane are far and few.
Steadfastness is the secret code:
“Friend or foe?” — it guides the road.

Though all may fall, don’t bow, don’t break—
Your soul alone you’ve got to save.
Listen to it, or you’ll be lost,
Drowned in the lies that count the cost.




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



Psychiatry and Psychology: Adapting Small Madness to Grand Delirium

Adapting madness — small and blind —
To GRAND DELIRIUM defined.
Psychiatrists, dull and stark,
Escape the sting of biting sarcasm’s mark.

A tiny madman, just a *****
In a crazed machine askew,
If politics calls that “norm,”
No cause to question or reform.

Don’t believe their “treatment’s” success,
If money flows, no one’s left less.
All will march in ranks aligned
To futile toil and slaughter blind.

If the madman’s not unlucky,
That’s the “norm.” Just tip them—quickly!




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



******* of Poems

Publisher to self,
Critic and fan as well —
That’s the modern way.
Only write this way.

If you spread the sweetened lies,
You betray, no compromise.
That must be purged, no doubt —
No falsehood left about.

Self-accuser, fierce exposer —
This today’s poetic poser.
If the world’s foul fascism’s here,
Smash the lies, or poems veer

Downward fast — no chance to rise.
Keep too quiet — madness flies.
Enduring evil breaks the roof —
A sharp, relentless crisis proof.




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



The Foundation of Global Bedlam

The world outside is soaked in filth —
So boldly turn within, the wealth
Of answers lies inside your core,
While lies outside uphold the war.




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



The Barrel and the Dot

Roll out the barrel’s final charge,
Light up the fuse — be bold, enlarge.
So mark your life with one last shot,
If resistance is your plot.

Gunpowder may be in words —
Explosive verses, fierce as swords.
But if fools read it as mere noise,
It’s nonsense then, not truth’s voice.

What you alone call powder’s fire,
Is only yours — no one’s desire.
If you spin tales that aren’t real,
Yourself alone will not forgive, feel.

Roll out the barrel’s final part,
Along the way, gather heart:
More powder in the night to burn —
A sudden clash will twist and turn.

Will dawn arrive? Who really cares?
You won’t await it, weighed by fears.
If you stayed sharp, unbought, and true,
***** the beasts — their reign’s on you.




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



The Great Doubt

Dedicated to Tartang Tulku

Great Time, great Knowledge, vast expanse —
Tulku’s words described them well.
But worldwide **** decays to fascist dance,
A Tenth Wave of lies to sell.

It’s time to add a Great Doubt here,
To all these claims, long overdue.
The final debt to Reason clear:
Soon all will burn — cataclysm brews.




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



Modern Villainy and Deception

Villainy? Oh, yes—
A liar’s game, no less!
Lie to the crazed,
No need to be phased.

Lies are total,
Toxic, fatal,
Worth a dime,
But with a blast—prime.

Flawed? You’re mad,
A fool, a cad—
It’s just pure
Nuclear lure:

Deception’s bite,
A deadly blight—
Simple truth:
A venomous youth.




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



Old-School Vova and ChebuRashki

Uncle Vova’s flying in,
With his worn-out, rusty spin,
Shoving “Rusism” down our throats again.
This old tale’s not brand new—
Clumsy as it’s always been—
Only fascism here will reign.




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



Not the End?

No "normal world" remains —
Just one that's flying straight to hell.
Enough of free cheese chains,
Enough of all — the end will fell!

Enough of selling out so cheap,
No soul to buy or sell — it’s dead!
Enough of traitors, cold and steep,
Who sell their souls to hell instead?

Enough? These words are just for grabs —
The human filth stays quiet still.
That filth from fools, the universe
Feels deep shame for, and always will.

There are exceptions — but so few.
So all is speeding toward the end.
Yet propaganda shouts anew:
“It’s not the end!” — they still pretend.




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



The Zombie Box

I turn the zombie box and trust —
Its zombie mob commands my will.
I open doors to rashist dust,
Their “salvation” seeming still.

They'll save us all from CowID,
And lead us straight to war's grim pit...
The Kremlin slime speaks loud and free —
The fool absorbs the lying ****.




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



Brainwashing

Brainwashing’s law —
For fools, their final cause.
The end’s always the same:
Down the toilet goes their name.

This path’s a highway paved
With stupid lies enslaved,
Dragging all to hellish plains —
Blood-soaked slaughterhouses’ chains.

They showed us CowID’s game
And war’s relentless flame.
When mind is dead and split,
You do with fools what’s fit...




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



So-Called "The People"

Wake and repent?
But “the people” sleep —
A stupid mass, their intent,
Bound by fascist keep.

No consciousness, no crowd,
No spirit — just the rabble.
Few are sensitive, proud;
Without sense, you’re just a scrabble.

To feel the world’s deep damage,
Multiply by reason’s might —
To bear such evil’s carnage
Is simply not right.

But if they bow and trust those fiends,
They only earn their fate —
Fried in lies, their souls, it seems,
Devils feast on their hate.




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



Sympathy for the Inhuman

Disposal of the fools —
Success is thin and slight,
Though fascist forces rule
With fake diseases, wars to fight.

The paradox is clear —
Fools should be crushed and reined,
But lost in blank despair,
They’re weak, confused, detained.

Tasks fail, all goes awry,
Stupidity derails the plan.
The inhuman writhes and tries
Amidst the wars and lies that span.

All that’s left — to pity them —
A task that’s simply bleak,
When heartless strikes the feeling stem,
And rotten fools are deemed unique.

A layer of the wise remains,
A factor hard to forecast —
In chaos’ storm, an attractor gains,
A stubborn block that kills at last.




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



Ends and Messengers

The ends are breaking off —
Life’s no more, just one big trap.
Riders come? Or liars’ cough?
But Death’s the thought to map...

Death draws lines beneath us all —
Man, or just a lump of flesh?
Drive the ****, the vermin, crawl —
Cut the ends, ditch all the mesh.

Sharpen words with biting verse,
Or prose — it counts the same.
The madhouse round you, terse —
Is worthless, soon to flame.




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



Are Our Tanks Really Fast?

Those “in tanks” at break of dawn
Built their armor just for show.
That armor’s fake, a flimsy con —
They plaster nonsense high and low.

Movement’s stalled, no way to fight,
Only spew their vile disgrace.
That giant lie won’t take much might
To bring crashing down from base.

Those “in tanks” bury their heads,
Like ostriches in the sand.
Those who broke free from their threads
Walk on light, they make a stand.

Few there are inside those tanks —
Most are caught within the cage.
Kursk’s curve? The clash that ranks —
All will lie in sand and rage.




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



Mafioso’s No Real Threat

Mafioso’s like a thorn?
In post-Soviet days —
Mafioso’s just a morn’
Mimosa’s childish phase.

And is the traitor better?
I’ve seen the mob and hacks,
Politicians, all fetter —
But writers strike the facts.

Among them, just a few
Deserve that kind of praise.
The rest like bugs, they stew
In lies and sticky haze.

By custom, fools will stay
In dumb, wild crowds they bind,
Only adding chains each day —
Few leave the lickspittle grind.




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



Global F#ckup

“A keen ear strains to catch a sound.”
But all in vain — just lies will rise.
While reason in deceit is drowned,
Worth nothing but a worthless prize.

And Nature shudders in her fear —
A monster sold to highest bid.
Soulless fools and mindless drear
Spew nonsense — babble, nothing hid.

Fascism’s filth is everywhere,
Genocide drags on for years.
For souls with spirit, shame and tears
Weigh heavy on their minds and fears.

Their ranks thin out — the beasts now swarm,
They fill the void, they rule the scene.
The end is near — the final storm —
This World’s ****** f#ckup, vile and mean.




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



Blow the Horn, Then *******

Swords to plowshares turned to noise,
Metal scraps to iron pipes.
Blow the horn — no other choice,
We don’t care — all’s lost types.

If the horn should break and fall,
Then we’ll ******* through it all.




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



Aladdin or the Djinn

Is Aladdin truly king,
Or the cunning Djinn who’s king?
No reason to trust fairy tales —
Darkness, lies, and endless wails.




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



Creation

God is creativity,
To merge — the only way.
False knowledge, lies, deformity
Won’t help the truth convey.

Inside — the world is one:
Macro, micro intertwined.
But lose your course, you’ll come undone,
When falsehood grips your mind.

Cling tight to lies — a towering mount,
A Everest of deceit.
Wake up from fog, break from the rout,
Escape the common cheat.

The herd feeds on the purest trash,
While breakthroughs come from few.
Creation breaks the chains that clash —
The lies the masses brew.




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



The Toilet

"The world has bent itself for you..."
— From some ancient TV pitch.


The world’s adjusted just for us,
But stinks and burns the nose.
The whole ****** world’s a cesspool now —
Where lies like poison flows.

And in our minds a total mess,
This falsehood drags us down.
No need for executioners —
The lies just multiply the drown.

They’ll march to slaughter, even sing,
Genocide’s their care.
The filthy CowID showed the way —
Deception everywhere.

The world’s adjusted just for us —
Dumb, cruel, and vile inside.
Our reason’s fading, crushed by lies —
By treacherous falsehood’s tide.




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



False Foundations of Pseudo-Science

So much trash accepted blind,
As base for falsehood’s art —
Pseudo-science, fog designed
To fool the trusting heart.

Rotten grounds and cheap charades,
Liars vicious, cold as ice.
They can **** with twisted shades —
Their lies cut sharp as knives.

Take the filth we call a “plague,”
Brewing fast, a toxic brew.
Old fools’ "pioneers" will fade,
Killed off like a mere taboo.

Promises? Just empty bait,
What they bring is only ****.
Monsters killing reason’s state —
False science, frozen counterfeit.

If you want to join their game,
“Pioneer,” then learn the lies —
Drown yourself inside the shame,
Where truth and logic dies.




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



Rot of Ideas

Rot of thoughts —
No tricks at all:
Devils’ madness calls —
Crush them all!

Plant the craze —
Lie even more:
Sheep, die slow
Under “Dawn”’s false roar!




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



On Fellow Travelers

Idiot—hang him high—
The deadliest of foes.
Through their attacks of evil,
Your strength just slips and goes.

Here’s a trick: in mind, draw loops,
Then step away, be free.
From fools, death’s cold breath is blowing—
Walk alone, silently.

If no wise and honest souls
Cross paths along your way—
Loud fools swarm in countless hordes,
Not comrades, but decay...




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



CowID’s Claymakers

An idiot’s a stick of TNT —
The fascist power’s crude device.
He killed the dark, made misery —
A model carved in sacrifice.

A reckless scumbag — mind destroyed,
The whole world reeks — disgrace and shame.




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



CowID Filth

CowID filth —
A shame, a blight.
The world’s dumped down
A sewer’s night.

Mind and Spirit
Rot inside,
Lies cut deep —
Now multiply.

Another CowID —
“Found” and slain,
You’ll be crushed,
Abused, in pain.




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



In Hell

No money left — just worthless notes,
No truth remains, lies choke the air.
Few humans here — just crawling motes;
If you believe the lies, beware.

Exceptions scarce, truth drowned in slime,
Generations dumbed and blind.
Downward spiral, fear and grime,
Darkness spreads inside the mind.

Degradation hits its peak —
No further fall, no depth to seek.
"Life" is empty, aimless, weak,
Monsters hold the power they seek.

The fiends must smoke away,
With slaves they bind and make their play.
Who wakes in this new hellish day?
Just few. That’s Hell — no other way.




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



The Citizen

A beastly mind built up in layers,
Where only lies from news prevail.
A nauseous citizen — no prayers,
Don’t touch him — or your words will fail.

Any sane thought is his foe,
He’ll see you as a threat, no less.
The Spirit’s yearnings? Slime and woe —
His skin alone commands respect.

No more than skin — no man remains,
A wretched shell that drags along,
His pitiful life dull and drained,
A weary, endless, pointless song.




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



Solar Apocalypse

The Sun’s bright flare, in just a span
Of two-thirds century, has grown—
It means swift death for mortal man,
A fate by fire, harshly shown.

The cause of heat is clear and one:
The Sun and Earth together burn
All spawn of evil, come undone,
Their shattered heads in fire churn.

But cows just ****, factories spew—
Yet fiends keep spouting lies and spin:
“The carbon trace!”—the tale they brew,
Blaming all for nature’s sin.

They’ll force herbivores to cease
Their natural gas release,
Claim to wipe the “footprint” clean—
But select few slip between.

Into underground domains,
With beasts enslaved, they’ll creep below.
This brazen nonsense feeds their gains,
Devouring truth in shadow’s glow.




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



Law-Abiding Citizen

A cloudy fool —
Brain like jelly.
Fear beneath,
Nonsense out.
Feed him well —
He’s blissed out!




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



Creative Race

A race? Thin ice —
Pain will tear.
If it’s sharp —
Salt in the tear.

The meaning’s core.
So race ahead!
If you chase the crap —
Then drown instead.




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



The Craft of Verse

Trust in verse — the base,
The craft’s true core.
A fool can’t grasp —
He’s just a bore!

Don’t fear — the first line
Will come one day.
If you’re not dumb,
The rest will sway.

The race is rhythm and meaning,
Rhyme leads the way.
If stuck on a line —
It’s fine, don’t sway.

Keep moving forward —
Onward, always!




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



So-called "Being"

To loosen skill —
Endure it like a gift.
But mind’s eclipse —
No lift, just drift.

What matters most —
To **** is trash.
"Earthly being" —
Souls’ decay and crash.




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



No Luck...

Greed, dullness, shameless vice,
Cowardice, and ruthless spice.
*******, rowing for their gain,
Loving only self’s domain.

Here’s the sellout, idiot’s part,
Traitor, snitch with poisoned heart.
Almost all the rabble’s bred —
Now that rabble’s soon outdead.

Sun blazes stronger, higher—
Marking end of days most dire.
No more sobs or saving lies,
No more falsehoods in disguise.

Rank by rank, for all the wrong,
To the New Hell they belong.
What has luck but evil served?
Just a few—none well preserved.




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



“Miracle”

A "miracle" will come — in frightful tales,
No story’s whole without such scales.
Clues lie scattered all around,
If deeper in the "woods" you’re bound.

Partisans grow thick and strong,
Old crones kinder all along.
More the toadstools will arise,
Water spirits bolder, wise.

This “miracle” will forge the beast,
The real badass, to say the least.
But traitor’s voice within the tale —
That badass means we’re doomed to fail.




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



Almost a Fairy Tale

Old crones wait upon the path,
Leading to the darkest woods.
Hold on tight, endure the wrath —
The oven’s set, the demon broods.

Take some salt, be sly, compliant,
Serve the **** with wicked grin.
Made for joy—your sad defiant,
Feeding rot, the foulest sin.

You’re their meal, the dumb and low,
Serving those who breed the blight.
But the rot will face the glow—
Flash of Light will end their night.




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



Freaks and Their Masters — The ****

**** can’t match the freaks who crawl
Into the filthy halls of power.
Those mad sellouts take it all —
They’ll be charged for every hour.

All accounts are subtraction —
What’s destroyed by wicked fiends?
Hell itself? The soul’s retraction?
Rot and ruin fill their scenes.

Into New Hell goes the ****,
But humans — their remains rise.
Humans are the ones who come
With clear minds and spirit’s prize.

— The End —