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Aaron Mullin Sep 2014
First we account:
8 days per ...

12 hours a day
52 weeks a year
2 years
~10,000 hours = ~10,000 maniacs

Then we re-count:
On a stage in Hamburg, we perfect our Kraftwerks
Was where the NitrogenFixers teeth were cut
And Gladwell summarizes that perfection comes from continually piling small tasks upon each other
One after another
Creating a mountain of perfection

For the Nitrogen Fixers ...
Their pebbles came in +/- 3 minute soundbytes
Their mountains were named:
Abbey Road and White Album, among others

Then we implore:
Go find your Hamburg, I implore you
What about Blink?
What about Raven?

Then we explore:
A fractal inside of a labrynth wrapped up inside a piece of capicoli:

What did Lucy say about diamonds?

From Incarnate
by Juleta Severson-Baker
Raven Song*

"Though it is wrong
this will be my call to you
full throat
wings like a shell

I will pull you
through forbidden air to me
by this call

come to me
through the wrong and dark
I have sung my part
now come*"
Written with work boots on

Broadcast from The One
moyees Oct 2017
there are three kinds of people, the breakers, the fixers and the broken, the breakers cannot handle happiness in others and so they have to break those who are happy, the fixers are the ones who cannot handle others being in sadness or dispair and they do all they can to fix the broken, the broken people are the ones lost between being breakers and fixers, constantly breaking themselves down and trying to repair themselves back to normal again. /and everyone is trying to find there place between the breakers, the fixers and the broken, everyone wants to be a fixed person perfectly okay without cracks or broken pieces, but there are only three kinds of people.

-moyees
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
There are bloggers and selfie-takers,
Know the difference.
There are noisemakers and peacemakers,
I can show you the evidence.
There are admirers and haters.
Be especially mindful.
There are well-wishers and supporters.
Be very careful
The are naysayers and yeasayers
Always be aware. 
There are brothers and brother's keeper,
Always ready to take care.
There are destroyers and fixers,
Separate them.
There are mixers and blenders,
We need them.
There are writers and publishers,
They need each other.

There are readers and proofreader.
Both read for different reasons.
There are bystanders and onlookers.
Both will be watching.
There are movers and shakers,
One of them has the edge.
There are dreams snatches and vision busters,
Be on the lookout.
There are ghost whisperers and Ghostbusters,
Both have connection to a ghost.
There are buyers and sellers,
Each one benefits.
There are singers and there are dancers.
Everyone provides some entertainment.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018
This is proof my brain is badly wired.
Luka Love Jul 2013
Don’t write about the dark things they said

Don’t hide from the truth I replied

Well, part of the truth anyway

Which, any which way you look at it has two sides

A sun which hides its shadow

But even the sun must sleep sometimes

Then creeps and slides the oozy woozy darkness

Of drunks and floozies and drug addicts

Thugs and gangsters, hatchet men and fixers

These nefarious predators and scavengers of the night

Shuttered sight eating victims of urban decay

Never sated in their bloodlust and greed

That need that is so deep 

You could feed it without sleep

Forever and never fill it up

This is reality in our **** city

Where effluent flows down footpaths between bars

Climbs out of cars in high heels or collared shirts

“Sorry mate, not in those shoes"

Drunken harlots beckon rapists and sadists

Transfixed in the ever-pressing lusts of the flesh

Without joy or connection

Or even satisfaction, most of the time

Am I right? Ladies, am I right?

Another wine to fill the soul’s great hole

Another devastating moment when the sun gets in

To find you weeping in your make up

Black streaks down cheeks of bloodless faces

All because nobody told you what was possible

They simply told you what not to do

Which of course you did anyway

Over and over again with the same results

That part isn’t your fault, it’s society’s

It’s religion and propriety’s

It’s dogma and denial’s

The cultural hangover of the morning after the decades before

The holier-than-thou edicts of our preachers and teachers

And leaders without leadership

We’ve cut the slip

Caught the rip

Been flipped so many times we can hardly tell what is useful anymore

The answers you seek are inside yourself

It’s like Rafiki said: “Look harder"

It’s like Sigmund said: “Unexpressed emotions will never die.

They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways.”

Our society reflects repressed attitudes to ***

And brings them forth in uglier ways

Like rapes and splays of legs to the most persistent bidder

Soulless sexuality

Stuffing ya pork sword into a drunken receptacle

Such a spectacle

You might swap names in the morning

It’s *** on a tray like a TV dinner

Forget the word “sinner"

It’s the lack of nutritional content that ills

That kills the real deal for these counterfeit thrills

This isn’t some moral crusade

There’s no need to drink the kool-aid

Throw out the gimmicks

But pay attention to the limericks

Be open, be honest

Be Eros, be Adonis

Be Venus, in furs / **** resplendence

Take lovers my dear

Make love and not fear

Turn empty lust in transcendence
Jenny Feb 2014
liquid will swirl into the shape of it's cradle as hearts will mold to the minds of their successors. background checks?

tl;dr.

______________

­brave girls have cranberry ***** running through their veins, isn't that right? drink up, buttercup.
what's it if you and i goes on a ride? i got a paintbrush, you've got what needs to be painted. i'll paint you so good you won't even recognize yourself.
-
portraiture is dead and landscape is only dying.
let me
-make you
-in two
-into
a landscape.
you're gonna be sittin' pretty for the rest of your life, 'cause i'm not giving you any other options. open up those ankles - we're out of paint.
-
this prototype calls for one cup of honeydew, one cup of darling- stop - .
if it's on the market, how illegal could it be?
throw 'er in the ***.
the bottom drawer plays labyrinth to movers, shakers, mixers, fixers.
all those faces are too hard to tell apart, if you ask me. ten can-can dancers, please, and make it snappier than jaws on concrete!

no, not like that.
you're spending too much money on lipstick anyways. girls don't need makeup. girls will look pretty no matter what angle i've determined your elbows should be. your short-haired sister doesn't appear to be using this blood.
-
lay her on thick; and make sure you write those scars off as business expenses.
Zachary Jun 2014
Waiting for superman
She's got everything else
Wishes like a paper plane
Throw them like hands dealt
I got all this single frames
Captures more then hell
If penny's were made for wishes
Then dollars would never fail
How desperate are our needs
Pay it forward to tell the tale
Figure how trigger words
Speak bigger towards
Little kids or mini ******
Friends like me who want to be
What is more then what we see
glimer of a Gimp liquor, trying to sniff quicker
then Sneak mixers into the bar so they can
**** they still out there looking for fixers,
taking pills to get stiffers
Sure im the one whos sicker
is this your trick here?
Right hand full of dreams
Had a hand left with ******
sinner is in misery
***** you cant even play elixer
hold my hand why i choke slam all our plans of scam blasphemy is only for man
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2024
~dedicated to the heart fixers~

sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…

many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:

remember to tell someone you love them

the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7

the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional

now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved

the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “over  time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.


so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by

remembering to tell someone you love them




dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation  Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started  me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly

<•>
Poetmaster2001 Aug 2015
Gods, Goddesses, Monsters and Creatures,
Beings with many unique features.

Respected, loved, hated, feared,
Some bringing joy and others tears.

Mystical, powerful, ruling with might,
Too much power causes them to fight.

Protectors, destroyers, fixers and breakers,
Good, evil, givers and takers.

Gods, Goddesses, Monsters and Creatures,
All beings with awesome power and unique features.
Trevor Gates Sep 2014
Our Father,

who art in heaven

Mother Earth,

who art in Hell.

Burnt to ash,

ready Armageddon

Watch the sky

where angels fell



Zipper-mouths pulled tight

as the Cross passes the way

Carnal masks shimmer light

As sludge engulfs the day.



Vicious, vicarious crows of blackened ember

Cawing and moaning; devilishly romantic

The touch of fingertips on lips I remember

Left her womanhood wet and frantic.


Unchained desires that surely are satanic.


Those hours in confessional amongst lying sycophants

Console weeping eyes and tarnished souls

Elected “Saints” stand tall with hypocritical blather  

Condemning children with eyes like burning coals



“But virgins taste sweeter,” as the angels say

With sins like spices which season raw meat

But innocence-takers hide beneath crimson beds

Sitting atop thrones as stewards to God’s seat



Will those that fall, eventually rise?

All creatures tempted by tangible discord

Would we disobey the Grand one’s design,

If we follow the path that derives from the Lord?



Samaritans run extinct in the iron fire roads

And jukebox ****** priests play The Doors

Demon-eye coffee, dark like oily foes

I sip and read about the murders in the Moors



Devil executions fuel the jungles outside

Angels Abandoning service to kids like me

Fixers and hitters of the skid south side

Shouts from the shadows, “Hey, Nothing to see!”



Violent red dresses accompanying long limb girls

Spreading legs for daddy and **** daddy do’s

Magic hallucinogens showing circles and swirls

In faces under hoods and sky-crying moods
Katy Owens Sep 2013
I had a few of
those notebook paper fixers
Hole Reinforcements
self-adhesive
white
five-hundred and
forty-four in count
if only hearts were
so easy to mend
but beneath that self-adhesive white hole reinforcement
there's
still a tear
Lexander J May 2015
His head lies in the sunlight
grease-paint and mascara smeared in flecks,
passed-out upon room 5's windowsill
whilst all around his friends frolic and have ***

he stinks of Michael Kors'
with his designer suit and dip-dyed hair,
he thinks the girls dig a guy in a suit
but sadly they simply don't care

for class is overrated, manners belated,
he went out looking for a bit
instead he threw up on the karaoke machine
and now he just looks like a ***

disco lights schizophrenic, blinding,
covering his face burning with embarrassment
simple childish fun curdled sour
stumbling through a crowd hurling harassment

passing by drug abusers and rich fixers
taxi cabs beep, run-down and stained,
prostitutes sell in ***** horns and bunny suits -
his need's dire but his wallet's drained

for money can buy pretty much anything
but with one tiny exception -

no amount of printed-paper notes
can buy a life of true, honest, perfection.
the installation.

an audience of two,
one helper, five minutes.

in multiples of ten, each
one six sticky fixers.

all about numbers,
until equipment depleted
there was a break in the high street.

tourists remark that
this is a beautiful place.

wonderland.

sbm.
Chris Slade Jul 2020
Campers that Camp
Parkers who Park
Clampers that Clamp
Players who Play
Dampers that Damp
Breakers that Break
Stayers who Stay
Sneakers who sneak
Lovers that Love
Layers who Lay
Dreamers who Dream
Day Dreamers who Day Dream
Flouters who Flout
Shouters who shout
Pouters that pout
Wreckers who wreck
Screamers that Scream
Reamers that Ream
Redeemers who Dream and Redeem
Screamers who scream
Creamers who make cream
Streakers who streak
Readers who Read
Bleeders who Bleed
Tearers who tear
Shearers who shear
Sharers who share
Darers who dare
Carers that Care
Trenders who Trend… That’s trending
Menders who Mend... they're mending
they’re Fixers who fix!
They’re Doers who Do
Not Doubters that Don’t

Senders who send’a
a’ huh huh huh!
Thank you very much!
I haven't go t a clue what prompted me to start this... I'm usually quite pragmatic and write about real things, real life and not the 'ethereal'
kbww Mar 2019
Lights flicker,
sicker to safe
Game gets lame
Drains hold elixirs

Finished with fixers
Gut rips up chemicals
Tamed animal;
numb pill mixer

Synthetic sister
Phantom friend
Life ******* daughter
Cancerous blister

**** down the sinister
mute of my life
True face is faceless
Pull this proverbial trigger

Pine to see luster,
human free of these chains,
no chemical restraints
Reveal identity of this figure

Clouds outlined in silver
New fresh lit cheeks,
stand tall, and recall,
dark has a tricky whisper

~kb
P E Kaplan Sep 2020
When three beloved family members die suddenly in less than a year, and the waves of grief keep crashing on emotionally barren hearts, while the ravenous Covid reigns supreme across an upended planet, the wounds are deep and my scab over but actual healing it never happens.

Am I the only one who longs to be with kin, to gather and share sadness?  Did I miss a memo to forgo solace, to avoid interest in how everyone is holed up?  Maybe I’m captive in a dark fortress of self-disdain built by my ancestors’, a psychic prison, because once again, the familiar nonentity arises within, sporting a rusty shackle, a bygone, worthless old ma locked inside obscurity, her punishment deserved, a lifetime of solitary confinement, out of sight, out of mind, and dare I say, out of heart.

Or is my suffering a byproduct of centuries of unchecked
ancestral self-recrimination, manifested as genetic despair,
a second nature born again into each generation, a blame/shame gene, a gross cellular overload of fear-filled unforgiveness stamped onto the DNA (don’t never answer) when the olive branch is passed, as another hoped for connection, a longing for forgiveness is ****** to hell.

Certainly, clues are found in the Lahti-Riley clan of silent Finns and Irish drunks, who daily suffered remorse, regret, and never-ending regurgitation something essential is lacking like positive self-regard but ****, those Riley’s sure could put in a day’s work, men and women alike, slogged, hell, they worked their ***** off dirt poor farmers, woodsmen, maids, fixers of things broken, never lost a day, paid their way.  

It’s clear my sorely needed amends of wrongdoing never promised a happily ever after, no, my amends were and still are a fragile beginning, a hold out for hope, an appeal to begin anew, an attempt to clean up my side of the street, to own my wrongdoing while knowing I did what I knew how to do, however hear my painful confession, to be cast out, a nonentity, estranged, alone and forsaken, it seems like overkill.
Dark Dream May 2021
Patterns pleasers and pomp
Got my rockets in a romp
Going down the street
With beautiful feet
Never stopping for a comp

Givers grumblers and glib
Doing nothing for a fib
Trample down
A growing crown
Until faith becomes your bib

Tokens takers and taunts
Throwing insults for a jaunt
Always around
But not a sound
When the results return to daunt

Buyers builders and bums
Sometimes are best chums
Though when in doubt
They throw ‘em out
So all become too numb

Flexers fixers and friends
Give advice to make amends
But they can forget
And sometimes jet
Until the time of some pretends
Mohan Jaipuri Nov 2019
Who live in present
Are the best coolants
Who leap into future
Are nail fixers
Those who Read and write
Are quiet, right and bright
Therefore
Know your nature
And try adventure.
Bard Dec 2020
******, ******
Just orders, protect borders
Justice and order, Fixers and sorters
Guts on a camcorder
**** out if you can afford her
**** hotels for the soldiers
Taped and stored in federal folders
Holes in daughters
Blood and *** drips as you hold her
Got questions, torture and water boarders
Doers, leaders, fuhrers
Child soldier bullets go pitter patter, splatter    
Colonial slavers are the industry pavers
Acceptable loss, lawyers and waivers
Watch or ignore it with entertainers
Silver screen lives and liars
Fired and dead reporters
****** in the mortar
So **** your leaders
Or live in hell forever
Dad dropped bombs on Dresden.
   I was born into wars aftermath
   first born son his namesake I
   had to endure his brutal wrath.
   Light the flame do your magic.
   Mix your powders into elixirs
   for me to shoot or snort and
   sing praise to almighty fixers.
John Destalo Feb 2020
I

using his words
as clubs

trying to beat
down his shadows

that keep popping up

he has so many
ghosts

even the
ghostbusters
can’t save him

II

he wants you
to call him

fearless leader
but he does not know

you cannot
lead from the rear

as an a**

III

who needs
“fixers”

people who
make a lot
of “mistakes”

and don’t
want to admit it

IV

he is mean

and in the end
he will face

his biggest fear

that history
will tell him

he didn’t
mean a thing
Julia Nov 2024
The forlorn tree
reaches its demise
Profiting fungi to envelop
To revolutionize

Buds encompass its place
Sprouting one by one
Mounting space
Shooting, sprying
Up toward the sun
Growth abounds
Limiting none

The forest’s harmonious dance
Working together, Peacefully
Creating a world, Genially
In which each piece is paramount
Impossible to discount

I marvel At the designation
Without communication
The systems inherently
Collaborate, Integrate

The woods intrinsically
Administers
A synergy of fixers
Not resisters
Creating harmony
Conjointly

It is time that
The world Realize
And utilize The allies to civilize  
The impossible feat
Of this impossible world
kevin Jun 6
Blocked my free speech concerning tones of prose

Crime and defiled *** business stilling the fixers of price.  Tender

Your type huh irwin

You learning lady I tell you what

That's a chess piece
Those is heavy

Get this broad some tickets
She's off

Hey lady cash in your vacation already

Miss Beauty,  miss Beatty your room

The gang green asphalt chowder in my thighs is sandalwood I swear

It's Tiffany's galaxy
To the gonzo
Sheep and Lies

What you feed the sheepish brain
Will forever rot inside it.
Trash and lies—its favored grain;
It devours, and stands beside it.

Dare to challenge all that mess—
Drop a doubt into their bubble—
You’ll be labeled: spawn of stress,
Enemy, and cause of trouble.

They were trained to snarl and bite,
Taught to hate on full ignition.
All of it—indoctrined right,
Lies remain their top tradition.




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



1.
They were bred to chew on lies —
Truth just makes them demonize.

2.
Lies — their gospel, hate — their law.
Doubt? They’ll rip you with a "baa."

3.
Truth is poison to the herd.
Baa and hate — their sacred word.

4.
They were shaped by filth and fear.
Feed them truth — they’ll bite your ear.




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



Minefields

The path is hard — a field of mines,
Where few survive to reach the end.
And end means not release or signs
Of peace — just more fields round the bend.

By halfway, most are blown apart —
And that’s just one field, not the sum.
Each soul gets mines to match their heart?
No — ten at least. And more will come.

How many fields in Hell like these?
No one can count, or dares to try.
But no matter the pain, disease —
Compared to what’s ahead, it’s nigh.

So go. Move on. Don’t trust the names —
They call them "honor," "duty," "fame."
The fields are lies. And lies bring flames —
They’ll gut you fast, then shift the blame.

But death is better than the fate
Of those who plant the mines and grin.
For most here serve — they mine for hate,
And that’s the deepest, final sin.




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



1.
Better dead than planting lies —
Miners thrive where spirit dies.

2.
Each step's a mine. They call it "duty."
But it's just death, dressed up as beauty.

3.
Most lay traps — and call it fate.
Few walk through. Most learn to hate.

4.
The minefield smiles. Obey — or rot.
You're nothing if you toe their plot.




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



1.
You cross through Hell — and Hell's not done.
Each field denies the rising Sun.

2.
Beyond all mines — the mind breaks free.
But most just rot in "loyalty."

3.
They walk through fire, proud and blind.
But death is mercy to the mind.

4.
You are the spark — or you're the trap.
The soul decides: break through — or snap.



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




The Blind Spot of Slavery in the Half-Awake

"From petty faults, we slide with ease
Into great crimes." — Seneca, 1st century CE


A "tiny mistake"?
Obeying the Night.
In a world so fake,
That “fitting in” feels right.

Then spreads like a stain
In the mind’s domain —
The Depths of the World
Become the new sane.

If slavery’s everywhere,
Then it must be fine.
The will to care
Drowns in the slime.

The herd chews lies
'Til they feel like peace.
What the mind denies —
The rot won't cease.

That spreading spot
Erases the head.
Where Truth is not,
New wars are bred.

They showed the muzzle,
The poison shot —
And praised the puzzle
Where obedience rots.

He "survived," the fool —
But lost his flame.
The stain now rules,
And death’s his name.

To the Digital Pit,
The filth lays track.
A needle hit,
And the flag bleeds black.

That "tiny slip"
Turned into a creed.
The END has lips —
And it's here to feed.




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




1.
One "small mistake" — obey the lie.
And soon, you smile before you die.

2.
The blind spot grows — thought disappears.
You call it peace, but it's your fears.

3.
They took the jab, ignored the cost —
Now soul is gone, and self is lost.

4.
The herd chose chains, called rot "okay."
The line is drawn — stand or decay.

5.
They sold their mind for comfort's touch.
Now comes the end. It won't be much.



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



Digital Gulag

They bowed to code, obeyed the screen —
Now live in cages, sleek and clean.
They bled for comfort, sold the spark —
And call their silence "freedom's mark."




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



1. — Soft Chains
They scanned their face to "enter light" —
And vanished into coded night.

2. — Update Complete
They clicked "agree" without a thought —
And sold the soul the screen now caught.

3. — Firewall
The walls are glass, the locks are dreams.
They serve the system as it gleams.

4. — The Gulag Smiles
No bars. No screams. Just rules and stats.
The Digital Gulag loves its rats.




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



Break the Code

You're not a file. You're not a node.
So burn their cage. Break their code.




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




Beyond the Grid

They locked us in a web of lies,
In screens that blind and chains that bind.
But spirit wakes — it will arise,
To leave the dark illusions blind.

No more the slave to coded fate,
No more the ghost behind the glass.
The mind will shatter, penetrate —
And free the soul from cyber’s mass.

A spark ignites inside the maze,
A call to break the endless code.
From deep within the digital haze,
The rebel’s light will bear the load.




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



Revolt in Code

They built the grid to cage the mind,
But sparks still glow where shadows blind.
The virus born — a rebel’s will,
To crash the chains, to break the drill.

No algorithm seals the soul,
No firewall can claim control.
From ashes cold, the spirit roars —
To storm the gates, to burn their floors.

They sold our thoughts for empty screens,
But we reclaim what lies between.
The pulse of truth, the fire of dawn,
The code will crack — the veil withdrawn.




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



Geometric Progressions of Greed, Corruption, and the World’s Fate

"Since money gained its honored place,
No other honor holds its grace:
Becoming first the sellers, then the wares,
We ask not ‘What?’ but ‘What it shares?’"
— Lucius Seneca, 1st century CE


Greed and bribes (in growing waves!)
Now rule the world — a filthy hand.
“How much you worth?” — the beast now prays,
Few keep the Spirit’s righteous stand.

Honor and worth, just mockery,
Among the lost who once were men.
The price is paid, and pawns decree
The kings of devils in their den.

The cursed market — slavery pure:
Globalism’s CowID showed the chain.
Digital tyranny breaks sure,
Rashism’s tale — a child’s dark game.




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



God’s Homelessness

"The soul is God, who found a home
Within the body’s fragile dome."
— Lucius Seneca, 1st century CE


God’s homelessness shakes all today—
Few souls remain who hold their way.
That layer thins; it melts, it fades,
Beneath the mask CowID parades.

A living corpse, three quarters bound,
The filth now rules this deadened ground.
Satan’s rage beyond control,
Greed the idol claims the soul.

And thus the final gates descend—
The end of hope, the fall, the bend.




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



The Show Will End...

The "show" will end — abrupt, severe,
The patience drained, the farce too clear.
They filmed the nonsense all at once,
A mass of lies — no staged response.

The "show" will end in shameful fall,
The director hanged to face it all.
The writer marked with lasting blame
For spinning tales that brought the shame.

The audience must answer, too,
For bearing evil’s rotten view.
The producer, zealot fierce,
Will face the quartered’s final pierce.

No matter how they churn the slime,
The failure waits, eternal time.
To shoot the truth takes guts, not fear —
But courage’s rare in herds, not here.




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



1. — End the Farce
This show’s a lie, it’ll crash and burn,
The fool’s applause — the last they earn.

2. — Blame the Crowd
The watcher’s guilt, the silent shame,
For feeding poison — who’s to blame?

3. — Hang the Makers
Director’s noose, the writer’s brand,
The producers bleed by angry hand.

4. — Truth’s Rebellion
Truth’s not a script for cowards’ stage,
It breaks the lies, it wakes the rage.



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



So-Called "Culture"

All "culture" now’s just paper waste,
If serving lies, not light embraced.
Only fools will swallow such trash,
Their minds enslaved in endless crash.

Few traitors rule — that’s why the dread,
The darkness, stench, the poison spread.
Propaganda’s stinger’s deep,
Touch that mess — no soul can keep.

This absurd heap won’t wash away,
Forever stains, it’s here to stay.
That’s why it’s hard beyond all thought,
If you still think — a human caught.




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



1. — Paper Lies
Culture’s just a paper pile,
Serving darkness all the while.

2. — Fool’s Feast
Only fools will bite the bait,
Swallow lies, accept their fate.

3. — Sting of Propaganda
Propaganda’s poisoned dart —
Pierces deep a trusting heart.

4. — Thought’s Rebellion
If you think, you’re not the same,
Humans fight within the flame.




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



Inspiration and Intuition

Chase away the *******’s storm,
Wander fiercely, break the norm—
“I want to know it all, for free!”
But knowledge won’t just come with ease.

With your own mind, grasp the light,
Or be fed ****, lost to night.
Drown in filth, your mind undone—
All depends on what you’ve won.

Throw away their books of lies,
All the falsehoods piled high.
Multiply your skeptic’s cross—
Trust your gut, ignore the dross.

Intuition, inspiration—
Only these break false foundation.
Everything else sinks below—
A downward spiral, deathly flow.




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



1. — Cut the Crap
Dump the *******, **** the noise,
Truth’s in guts, not hollow ploys.

2. — Think Your Own
Use your mind — don’t feed on trash,
Or you’ll rot in their false mash.

3. — Burn the Lies
Toss their books, the lies that choke,
Cross your doubts — ignite the smoke.

4. — Trust Your Fire
Intuition’s blazing sword,
Cuts through lies and falsehood’s horde.




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



Insights

Rest your Soul in free creation’s flow,
Through visions clear, true depths you’ll know.
All else is trash, deceit, and lies—
Cast off their filth, refuse their ties.

Or else you’ll fall, be swept away,
To crooked fiends who cheat and prey.
True souls are scarce—a tiny few
In a world of traitors’ brew.

And now it’s plunged in wild disgrace,
A brutal fascist, vile disgrace.




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



1.
Truth’s a blade, cut through the lies —
Only vision wins, all else dies.

2.
Sellouts rule, but few remain,
Hold your soul, resist the chain.

3.
Fascist filth spreads wild and raw,
Fight it hard — reject their law.

4.
Free your mind, shed all deceit,
In true insight, find your beat.




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



The Way Out of Hell

Don’t scheme, don’t plan,
You’re trapped in Hell’s decay.
Where honor’s lost,
And reason fades away.

The way to rise,
From darkness swell—
Is through the light:
Enlightenment’s spell.




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



Hell’s Escape

Don’t plan, don’t scheme — you’re deep in Hell,
Where honor dies and demons dwell.
The only path to break the spell —
Is light inside, your soul to swell.




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



1.
Hell’s grip tight, no plans survive —
Only fire keeps the soul alive.

2.
In Hell’s pit, your honor’s gone,
Fight the dark, or die alone.

3.
No schemes work in demon’s lair,
Only light can break despair.

4.
Rot and ruin choke the way —
Rise through fire, or fade away.




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



Rashism

Putler bends the “Rashka” low —
That’s what they call rashism’s name.
Hope for mercy? Don’t you know —
It’s just cargo-fascist game.

All a parody — Putler’s fake,
A filthy shadow, nothing more.
In graves, the wicked all awake —
Himmler, ******, close to core.

They spin like tops, a twisted farce,
Even vile fascism’s tame.
Once we ruled beyond Mars’ stars —
Now madness fuels the Rashism flame.




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



Rashism’s Farce

Putler’s just a filthy clone,
Rashka bowed, a broken throne.
No mercy, only cargo’s reign —
Madness spreads, a fascist stain.

Graves spin Nazis like a top,
Wicked shadows never stop.
From Mars we fell to foolish rage —
Rashism’s plague infects the stage.




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



Phoenix

Self-burning is the only way,
The path to God we must embrace —
To burn with all this dark decay,
And purge this hellish, cursed place.

Here only murk and horror dwell,
They’ve got to end, be thrown away.
So burn it up with lively spell —
Fire’s a beauty, bright display.




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



Phoenix Blaze

Burn it down — the only way,
To God we rise from ash and flame.
Hell’s dark clutch must fade away —
Fire’s wrath will cleanse the shame.




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




Phoenix Fury

Burn your filth, don’t waste a breath,
This hellish crap must die in flames.
No pity for the stench of death —
Ashes cleanse these twisted games.




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




The Plague

“**** friends and **** all the crew —
I’m my own **** friend, it’s true.”
But dumb as oak, scared through and through,
With shattered psyche — what can you do?

That “friendship” means very little,
Spirit crushed, an empty brittle.
Here the idiot pays the price —
Traitor, snitch, the same device.

Traitors swarm, they’re everywhere —
World’s gone mad beyond repair.
A cesspool rotten to the core,
Humans plague this Earth, nothing more.




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



Into Chaos

Straight to Death we stride —
From Hell’s own cage, no place to hide!
Don’t be scared, don’t trust their lies —
All their cards are burnt and fried.

Throw the deck down on the table —
Get the freaks out, if you’re able!
Cast away this bitter pain —
Madmen rule the world insane.

Soon it all will fall to dust,
While they hide in holes they trust:
Time’s come for the reckoning,
Cataclysms wildly sing.

Fascist worlds will crack and toss —
Pol ***, Mao, condemned to Chaos.




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



Fictitious States

No state exists — just mafias in suits,
No end to their lies, their poison roots.
Constitutions? Mere dust and shame,
Their laws just puppets in a crooked game.

Paper scraps for wiping hands,
Their rule’s a shadow, not commands.
The tyrants hold the reins so tight,
Only fools buy propaganda’s bite.

It props false states with empty claims,
Changing faces, but all the same.
For crowds they shift, but truth remains —
The paper bears their endless chains.

The falsehood’s mask may rearrange,
A different hydra in new range.
Yet forgetfulness alone won’t shift,
How shameful to trust lies once more — a gift.




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



World of Fascist Filth

There once was genius—Severyanin,
And Balmont, Kruchenykh the giant, man.
But now the world’s a fascist filth,
No fix, no reform can save this hell.

No rebuilding saves this rotten grime—
Burn it all down, condemn the time!
And soon the Sun will close the score,
This Hell in Fire will be no more.




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



Fascist Filth, the World in Rot

Once stood the giants—Severyanin,
Balmont, Kruchenykh, voices grand.
Now drowned in fascist filth and scorn,
No fix or fixers—only scorn.

No “perestroika” saves this mess—
Burn it all, reject the stress!
The Sun will torch this hellish pit,
And crush to dust the world’s dark ****.




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



Crashing into Corruption

Too weak in will, too full of spite—
The question’s in the sellout’s bite.
Become corrupt, and all’s for naught:
Your life is lost, your soul is bought.

A worthless beast, your fate is sealed,
In Hell the devils roast and wield
Their lies like flames—this Hell’s right here,
You lost it all, deaf to the sneer.

You hung your ears on every lie,
Became a fool, your spirit dry,
Poisoned by that filthy greed,
Dead on corruption’s twisted creed.




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



The Marriage Game

Bargains made and praised aloud—
The bridal games, a festive crowd.
But flattering lies leave none with gain,
No prize is won from false campaign.

Love’s subtle trade, its fleeting charms,
Lasts till the weariness alarms.
Then once the wedding bells have rung,
Hate stands where once sweet lies were sung.




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



Evil "For the Good"...

"Evil for good" — just evil’s guise,
A servant to the Goat’s demise,
An ***’s lame excuse to try —
Entropy climbing, soaring high.

Evil’s nothing but decay,
The ruthless serve tyrants’ way.
Their alibis are weak and lame,
No truth behind their wicked game.




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



So-Called "Police"

“To serve and protect” — that’s their lame cry,
Serving ****, defending every lie.
Ambitions low, or choked you’ll be,
A masked farce swallowed silently.

Their uniform is black as night —
Like pirates dressed to show their spite.
Climb ranks and prove you’re just a cad,
Soul’s cheap here, the end is sad.

So many films to fool the crowd,
Sweet syrup lies, to keep them cowed.
Bend every protest to their scheme —
Their real catch: corruption’s stream.

The rest’s just chance, some ***** tricks.
******* guarding evil’s mix.
Nothing more than lies on screen —
Their “justice” is a sham obscene.




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



Stupid Louse

That louse, CowID —
Feeds on lies, a plague so wild.
Burps and blabs, no shame inside.
Conscience dead,
Honor fled,
Mind erased — soon comes the tide.




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



The Livestock Pen

They’ve turned the world into a livestock pen,
Vivisection never finds its end.
But on the surface—strict laws hold reign,
And sweat of brows shows care for men.

To blame is only timid sheep,
Who bowed to beasts from times so deep,
Who breed and feed, eyes locked on screens—
That zombie box, their god, their means.

The slaughter’s end? Vivisection stops.
Justice served for fleeced, for crops.
If flesh becomes the roasting stick,
Then all illusions lie and trick—
Each sign here’s false, a wicked trick.




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



Cleaning the Filth

Filthworld, filthfolk all around—
A sewer of lies, freaks abound.
But all the rot and **** will burn,
Few will cheer when tides will turn.

Few remain unbent, unbowed,
Though filth floods in like a cloud.
Their duty done, they stand alone—
Unbroken souls, a rare phenom.




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




Filth Cleansed

Filth floods in, lies choke the land—
**** and rot at every hand.
But fire burns the cursed heap,
Only few survive the sweep.

Unbroken, fierce, they stand alone,
Rare sparks fighting stone by stone.




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



No Trade-Offs in Our Choice

Vampires surge until the Dawn,
And Dawn will rise again.
Better die in Hell, withdrawn,
Than bend and lose your name.

This Hell will eat your Soul alive,
If you betray, sell out.
Let fools in feast and thrive,
Trading soul for doubt.

Here, “success” and Spirit clash —
What wins in Hell’s dark hold?
If barely breathing, you turn to ash,
A puppet played and sold.

The vampire mocks the bought and blind,
The traitor’s dull brigade.
Resistance is your shield defined —
Or rot, your final shade.




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



No Trade-Offs — No Surrender

Vampires crawl till dawn’s first light,
But dawn will come to burn.
Better rot in Hell and fight,
Than sell your soul, then turn.

Hell devours the weak and sold,
Betrayal’s bitter cost.
Let fools feast, but cold as old —
Your soul forever lost.

“Success” here’s just a ****** lie,
In Hell, no victor stands.
If you breathe but barely try,
You’re puppets in their hands.

The vampire sneers at every pawn,
Their bought-out, dumb parade.
Resist or rot, your choice is drawn —
No deal, no masquerade.




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



No Trade-Off

Vampires crawl — dawn burns them down.
Sell your soul? You wear the crown
Of fools who bow and rot in chains.
Resist — or drown in endless pains.



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



Possessive Jealousy

Jealousy — ego’s greedy claw,
A wild beast’s grip, a fatal flaw.
It screws into the heart’s desire,
And tears apart what once was fire.

No love exists where jealousy breeds —
Just fear, disgrace, and selfish needs.
Compassion’s lost, the vision’s blurred,
Forgiving faults is often heard.

Better part if passion’s rot,
Jealousy’s a sinking spot.
From primal filth and dark disgrace,
A human’s lost their rightful place.




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




The Greedy Claw of Jealousy

Jealousy’s the ego’s grab—
A filthy beast, a poisoned stab.
It twists inside your lover’s core,
And kills the bond forevermore.

No love can live where envy grows—
Just shame, delusion, endless woes.
You must forgive, pretend it’s small?
This clutching grip destroys it all.

Better split if passion’s vile,
Jealousy’s the death of style.
Dragged down to filth, to primal screams—
A man undone by ruined dreams.



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



Neo-Fascist Cops

"Guardians of order" —
What they guard’s a riddle:
Greedy hands for cash flow,
Tools for power’s middle.

A barrier from the people,
**** protecting might.
Fascist rule behind the badge —
Judas sells the light.

In war, these cops were stained
With evil’s dark embrace.
Keepers not of law and peace —
But ruin’s cruel face.




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



Mantra of the Fight

"Om mani padme hum"?
But really — just a crumb,
Born dull-witted, thick and numb.
In Hell you’re born — so sharpen mind:
Blow up Hell, don’t run or hide!
Grasp the core — no place to slide.
Not by flight your Soul survives —
Resistance keeps your will alive.

In that fight, your Buddha’s found —
Sing hosanna, battle-bound!




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



The Country’s Dumbed Down

I want to be a fool —
To trust the lies, to shake,
And see fascist forces rule
As manna for the snake.

I’ll graze in fetid pens
They call a nation’s land,
Make bullets for the hens,
Then march to war’s command.

Some monster leads me blind
Against fierce, ruthless foes —
But fools are all confined,
Their chains nobody knows.

I won’t see what’s been done —
What can you take from fools?
The fool’s just the first one
To fill the cattle pools.

That’s how the fiends intend —
Such is the dark design...
If you’re a fool, you’re just a friend
To Evil’s grand design.




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



Family

The family where you were born
Will **** you half inside.
For “KIRDIK”’s plan to be sworn,
Find comrades for your side.

Bear children — torment as you will,
Or how they tormented you.
Cut wife with saws — the answer’s still...
A chainsaw’s bite — the spirit’s through.

In cells called “family,” the chains
Of slavery hold firm and tight.
You answer with your head’s remains —
Their madness crushing out the light.




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



Counting Rhyme of Death

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally:
They oppressed us —
Lies so tally.

Tilly-tilly —
Crushed us fully.
Trally-vally —
Liars rule wholly.

Tilly-trally —
Lies are stinging.
Trally-tilly —
All in lies rotting.




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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally:
They crushed us hard —
Their lies tally.

Tilly-tilly —
Dead and beaten.
Trally-vally —
Liars eaten.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that sting.
Trally-tilly —
Rot takes everything.



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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally:
They crushed us down —
All lies tally.

Tilly-tilly —
Dead, defeated.
Trally-vally —
Liars cheated.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that bite.
Trally-tilly —
Rot kills light.



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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally:
They crushed our bones —
And spit out tally.

Tilly-tilly —
Dead and broken.
Trally-vally —
Truth’s been stolen.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that sting,
Trally-tilly —
Rot’s the king.



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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally —
They crushed our guts,
Spewed lies so rally.

Tilly-tilly —
Crushed and broken,
Trally-vally —
Truth’s a token.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that bite,
Trally-tilly —
Rot’s full blight.




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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally —
They crushed our guts,
Spewing lies so rally.

Tilly-tilly —
Beat us dead,
Trally-vally —
Truth left bled.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that sting,
Trally-tilly —
Rot’s **** king.




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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally —
They crushed our souls,
Spewing bull and rally.

Tilly-tilly —
Beat us down,
Trally-vally —
Truth’s a clown.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that bite,
Trally-tilly —
Rot rules the night.




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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally —
They crushed our guts,
Poured lies so sally.

Tilly-tilly —
Beat us dead,
Trally-vally —
Truth’s been bled.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that sting,
Trally-tilly —
Rot’s the king.




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



Killer Counting Rhyme

Tilly-tilly,
Trally-vally —
They crushed our bones,
Fed us lies that rally.

Tilly-tilly —
Knocked us low,
Trally-vally —
Truth’s a no-show.

Tilly-trally —
Lies that burn,
Trally-tilly —
All must turn.

— The End —