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Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
A newlywed man was talking to me, saying that
he and his wife had just become homeowners yesterday.

"Last night was our first time in our new house,
but I didn't close the wood stove right... It burned to the ground
in the middle of the night"

He was clearly intoxicated, downtrodden and red-eyed.
It was 10:17 am in an airport bar, and I was four beers deep waiting
for my 12:26 pm flight as he was telling me this.
I looked away from the clock and into his eyes and said:

"Well it must have been a great housewarming."

I killed the rest of my beer and went for a cigarette,
and never saw him again.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
We are not on a schedule
But we are working
Ivory skills of mastery hard
We can not afford to lose
The Elephants hearts diary
The Zen of topiary
      Details
  The good luck

The hard worker making
True buck the husk of fruit seed
The Peking God of duck
Superman of gifts of steel
The movie superstitious eyes
Everyday good earth cries
Elephant Trunk
Bring on the Holiday
The tuxedo the Elephant Tusk
Godly task the top rank

Anomalous

Questioning the situation not
so delicious
Sensual so moving vivacious
The comedy of errors
Ridiculous to the sublime

The compromising position
Waiting for the next
      "Crime"
Mens of romance
Holiday the gracious gray
Taking risks

*Gallivanting never separating love
Of the tusk, life holds too many risks

Smiles and baking
more loving
The harder you mix
    Wonderful Ivory
   An elephant is a true
   ingredient
Holding the whisk over creamed
Looking high up the
white feathers
Like a beauty, I have never seen

She loves to pick his holiday
Elephants circles the tie he's
her dream
There is no truth when its a holiday
when people
Laugh between there lies

Start running toward
Elephant Tusk
Moms homemade apple caramel
pecan pies
Conflicts subjects
to paint talk to the "Elephants"
With the dreamy ivory tusk

The fragrance of Ireland
Spicy Greens musk
King hand card player tough skin
*Holiday Queen got numbered in
The men million stars of
musk saved the day it flew in

You make me feel brand new
I never made a mistake
Never one that I couldn't explain
Running towards or afterward
Those love words
Before the Gods
The veal chops
Emperor of emails
The Cops and robbers

So modest and shy with demure 
 Holiday spirit world of hands galore
What allure dreamy contentment
She got holiday advancement

The contrast between
Holiday family love the honesty
but our government magical
mystery all bribery
Go for the tour just pour
your words
Quite a mystery white baking
flour messy
Moon and the Star handkerchief style
dressy

The Astronomy we need
to build a better
Here and the now
Wondering how?

Deep brown hazelnut
coffee royal bow
Seeing through the
Gray starting to pray
The parade of the Elephant
The day we can trust
This isn't a Fay Ray
not my kind
of town
The holiday comes and goes
too quick
There you are Rick and
his cousins
It felt like a holiday of
*Tombstones
The gathering with the finest
rhinestones

More sound of silence
Please no I phones
Shut them off enjoy the
Elephants tusk and
their home turf
Not the bluest sea
Make it the lovely
    (Earl Gray)
Bringing surf and turf
More conflicts those predictions
More spiritual afflictions

Just find your peace within
His Elephant pants win
You got the whole tusk
in your hand
"Snow White Huntsman"
Affection like a
housewarming
My holiday transformation

Neon Lion light of crystal ball
The spiritual Tree elephant
Touched a part of me the art
All the fine elements bring
us closer, not the copy
of an imposter

Something to smile about
The myriad
The full length of the camera
The Elephants has a heart
no drama
Flying so Ivory gown sheer
Moms roast will not
come next year
Red devil computer
Telling me there are
Ghostbusters and
travel gliders
I am the true
Elephant lover
More homestayers
music players

Men looking astronomically
Feeling silly
in their whiskers
The world is horrifying
But there is no denying
more praying
Her heart is very thick
Elephant skin close to her
heart is luck
What is happening
to our economy
The sad thing people are selling
Elephant's
Tusk for money we need
to stop this

Lucky Elephant tusk is
turning to good luck
We pray for the world
Holy bless
The holiday Spirit there is no Scrooge here this was done differently do you love Elephant husk please save them they are beautiful and good luck this cruel world is selling them we need to stop this
Poemasabi Jul 2013
As I sit here, at the dining room table and stare over decaf coffee at the screen on my Mac
my eyes are drawn, once and awhile, to the picture sitting on the buffet in the butler's pantry.
Before we continue you should know that "butler's pantry" in this case
means the "third bedroom" that we saw in the listing on Realtor dot com before we bought the house and that,
in the usual real estate-ese, is an optimistic label at best.

But I was talking about the picture.

The picture sits, slightly askew, in a carved wooden bowl given to us by my wife's boss
as a housewarming present.
It, the bowl I mean,  came with salad tongs or forks,
depending on what it is that you call them,
made of water buffalo horn.
They sit in the bowl too and,
although she'd never admit it,  
I know that the thought of serving salad with water buffalo horn salad forks...
lets just say.....
doesn't appeal to my wife.

Right, the picture....

It sits in on the buffet,
in the carved wooden bowl,
next to another wood bowl.
This one full of carved wood fruits and vegetables,
which evidently, includes sugar cane.
When my wife's dad moved from his house to an assisted living facility
the kids, my wife, her brother and sister, took turns going down to help him move.
My wife was the last and dad insisted that
someone
"had" to take the fruit.

But, the picture....

It, and the wooden bowls full of fruit and unused salad forks,
are surrounded by both faux and real glassware
and placemats
which all sit perched
on the top of the buffet as precariously as refugees
and all of their belongings
on the deck and roof of an overloaded fishing boat
chugging from their homeland
to some place that is hopefully better.

The picture...

It was painted by my father-in-law and,
of all the others we have in the house,
is one of my favorites.
It sits on the buffet, askew in the carved wooden bowl with the horn salad forks,
amid polycarbonate and glass drink ware,
and placemats,
unframed for some reason.
All of his other works came framed
but this is one he did not...
and did I mention that it is one of my favorites?

I like his choices of frames on all of the other pictures we have,
but this is just canvas, stretched over a frame,
sitting in that carved African wooden bowl
with those salad forks made from water buffalo horn
on the buffet next to the other wood bowl full of wooden fruits and vegetables,
and wooden sugar cane,
in the butler's pantry.
Onoma Oct 2012
Rust downing like bayed menstrual blood--
booming steel walls...a rattling sanitation truck.
Housewarming...'the rough beast' in
fetal orbit...nay-toothed in squalor.
Whose gummy roar shall presage the
audacity of all places, that call forth
houses!!!
Lara Lewis Jul 2014
Warm a house, wreck a home.
Denial of cracks in pavement, in drywall.
My back is unbroken
My back is will never not be unbroken;
The only way back is to move forward,
Restart; Groundhog day.
The subtle difference experience makes.
Playing parts only goes so far,
You want the real thing,
But I will never be afraid again.
Rachel Jun 2015
alone,
alone,
always alone,
this emptiness, it knows me;
"hey, welcome home!"

the doormat is missing,
the windows are cracked,
the sadness, it knows me;
"glad you have to back!"

the bedroom is empty,
but for a pillow and a cot,
these sorrows, they know me;
"we've missed you a lot!"

all the paintings are crooked,
the house is a mess,
it's a hell hole, no doubt,
but it's what I know best.
Andrew Dunham Jul 2015
His housewarming gift was a night of sweaty sheets
peeled eyelids
and restless tossing.
He lives beneath your bed,
contributing to the eerie feeling
that gives your domicile its familiarity.
Always awaiting a conversation,
but you're just so busy that he has to wait for nightfall
to whisper in you ear.
He will rarely show his face,
maybe because he's shy
or introverted.
He's lonely,
and desperately would like a friend
because you have more than enough space under your mattress.
did you ever think that the monster under your bed may just be a misguided spirit? probably not.
it's a college party
even though i never finished and the rest of y'all are spending money you don't have on the ingredients necessary for homemade sangria so you can drink the crippling anxiety of not knowing how to pay off your student loans away

there's a man living in a tent in the backyard, and i'm pretty sure we put one too many pieces of scrap wood in that very-hard-to-maintain bonfire. that has to be a metaphor for the state of most of our lives. stop throwing things i'm unprepared for in what already feels like a situation that is going to **** me.

is this a literal housewarming

i'm drunk, and sitting on the deck, counting the christmas lights. i smell ****, and there are white people dancing and singing to blink 182 inside.

i paint my name on a drywall with a brush and canisters i find on my way to the living room, where i'm asked to referee a game of beer pong. i lose interest quickly.

i scroll through my phone, sober enough not to text you but drunk enough to desperately want to. someone sits down next to me because i've apparently become that person at the party.

i talk about rent with a guy who really wants to connect on the fact that we're both middle eastern, even though i'm not middle eastern. he smells like PBR and completely believes what he's saying. he says he's proud of me for following my dreams of coming to new york and that he likes my "crazy hair" and that he wants to **** me.

i raise my eyebrows, more in disgust than interest, but he then takes his perceived cue to shamelessly ask me if i have a ******. i don't, and i leave before he brainstorms any alternatives i am just as aversive to.

ironically, i find a ****** dispenser attached to a tree on the walk to the subway. considering the amount of catcalling i experienced on the way to the station, my level of discomfort is amplified by the fact that the neighbourhood literally, physically implies, ******* is going to happen in the streets. it's 2am, and i just want to go home. and i'm sitting on the J train, recalling everyone who's told me it's shady and unreliable and makes you feel like you're going to die.

a few months later, i am nicknamed J train.
Tori Jurdanus Aug 2013
Here, this is my voice box. Please be careful with it because I only have one, its not as loud as yours, and sometimes it cracks when I get nervous,
but for only three minutes of your time and the part of your mouth where it turns up at the end, its yours.

I've always known you thought of this world like a trading post. That each person you meet is absentmindedly trying to bargain away your most important parts,
every piece of gold and silver you have to offer, every wink of eyelash, ever giggle
As if we are untouched, untarnished miracle,
but a rarity waiting to be stolen.  

This life, you say, won't always just give you what you want.

It is all a game of operation that you are so good at.
You know exactly how to pull away people's most important parts without compromising your own.
Giving crocodile tears and counterfeit laughter for footsteps to walk in time with yours.

You guarded your heart like a bird in a cage,
so when it stopped singing, you began handing out ribs you thought were expendable like housewarming gifts in hopes a little company would bring its song back to life
Only I think someone stole it.

Because even though no buzzer went off, you seem to be looking for something to fill that space,
something like someone else's passions, something like power,
Something that is big enough to push out your chest like the way used to, when you still believed that people were worth more than the sum of the parts the could afford to give you.

Now you're all barter and a handshake with fingers crossed.
All swindle, all smooth talk, all scam
and no fairness.

But I am not a pawn shop.

There are things in this world I will forsake for the right deal:
the blush in my cheeks for an extra set of hands,
the grace in my step for the memories of dancing,
lend me your tenderest glance and I will give you every grown up tooth you can see when I laugh
But we are not made of infinity.
You ask for my lips to shape your favourite words
But never my eyes or my shoes to stand from my point of view.
You say their is a beast in my heart, you can see its outline in my jaw,
You offer your tongue to use as a whip
train it not to whisper or sing or beat out of time like yours.
Like the figure eights it creates in the rhythm I dance to were eternal.

I cannot afford to trade this.

I knew a boy who sacrificed his lungs for some peace of mind, and lost both.
I've seen girls who traded in liver and saline for a kiss that they would never be able to call their own
I have watched you chip off your vertebrae one by one, hand out pieces of your spine as currency to keep people off your back.
But I know when something is worth more than the sum of what you are willing to give me.

If you want me to tame the flutter of my heart,
Best bottle up your tears and make room for my own,
or else give me a reason to smile.
Janet Li Feb 2010
Time is measured
in problem sets and exams
birthday parties and housewarming parties and frat parties
going out to eat with chattering friends,
anxiety in the wait for the week’s end,
finding the time for peace in ‘alone’
or calling our parents up on the phone.

Specific occurrences far from each other:
Weeks.

... or daily:
Watching each minute slide by,
Digits slipping one by one
Into ever-so-slightly increasing quantities.
Like a microscopic tortoise
on an infinitely stretching number line,
Moving steadily,
always so steadily,
toward the invisible finish line.
Why?
Dreamypretty Jan 2021
Looking into the oblivion
Staring blankly into this yellow wall
In the midst of a house party
My housewarming party
What I am looking for?

When my friends are drinking and dancing
And I'm sitting there even though I'm smiling
They ask me, Pretty : why do you look sad?
I don’t even know if I’m sad or just plain.. blank.
What am I looking for?

Everyplace I go, the horizon at the sea or the peak of a mountain
Or when I’m just chilling in my den
Staring into the silence.
What am I looking for ?

Is knowing too much a bane?
Isn’t a foolish person happier?

It’s funny isn’t it? Or just an irony?
That as I write this sitting on the chair in my room
After that house party, my housewarming party
I stare blankly at this wall and the wall stares blankly at me
And then we are a perfect company !
I wrote this sometime when I was battling a heartbreak, a void, probably depression. To all of you who feel the emptiness, I want to say that it does not last. You are stronger than that and you can beat it.
Velvel Ben David Apr 2020
(No. 3)
I spent the evening
At Brother Ballantyne's
With the man himself
On Darius' Ranch, just past
The lime-green street sign
Which read "Nowhereville"
The best place to be
Nowhere whatever
I sat down with faces
A bit familiar to me but
Their names unimportant
"I like your friends" I said
"But what sets us apart is-
We ask all the questions."
We listened to Ugly Casanova
Painted like Picasso
In conversation as we sat
Smoked Cohiba Maduro 5 cigars
Drank fiery juice until
We were out of our heads
Wearing house slippers
& a false fur jacket
Which drew too many questions
Got too many laughs
But I have to admit, I liked
- the attention -
Jet Jan 2021
And it waited a moment longer than a moment’s pause

It was rain resisting its temper, attempting tenderness

Each drop the poignant pain in a patient bladder
when you hold to hear the end
of a song in a play or a whisper behind you
despite your body insisting you must leave

Then, it drowned the saplings in the gutter

a violent politeness
an apology for impeding
a housewarming gift
--- Jul 2013
The faith
What is it?
And why should I keep it?
Maybe it's the collective faith
That I should keep?
Because my own,
Well,
It's fairly solid.
It has a strong foundation.
Thick walls.
Earthquakes come occasionally
It's fallen
Been rebuilt
Again and again
Stronger each time.
i must work on the
Collective faith.
Not everyone has
Strong faith.
No person alive
Is always built tall.
We all have cracks in our walls.
Leaks in our ceilings.
Loose doors.
And we are never alone in out
Faith-house.
There are friends inside
But more often than not
The majority is enemies.
To me
"Keep the faith"
Means to hold up each others' walls.
To patch their roof.
To bring housewarming gifts.
And to be the friend among enemies.
Jet Dec 2020
And it waited a moment longer than a moment’s pause

It was rain resisting its temper, attempting tenderness

Each drop the poignant pain in a patient bladder when you hold to hear the end

Then, it drowned the saplings in the gutter

a violent politeness
an apology for impeding
a housewarming gift
Onoma Sep 2016
On some level
everyone knows...
they can see
through anyone
instantly,
so the words come...
cascading
to fill that
infinitely awkward
pause.
The same house,
the same light...
the same vacancy.
Beautiful housewarming.
Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
through out Highland Manor,
     property carpeted in lush green
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
hilly quiet, October 10th,
     deux thousand eighteen).

Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
     hammering, and drilling psyche
     where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
     instantaneously turning
     Janus faced with Machiavellian

     mean streak inlaid
     (how word some would say)
     "stern", any previous
     housewarming aura
     experiencing welcome spiel,
     nor iota of politesse present,
     but Trumpeting her entourage,
     asper self important capering escapade

     taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
     gung-**, brave appear afraid,
     thus oft time tis most
     advantageous and optimal
     prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Jan Ger
     harridan de jure ushering tirade

     akin to a petite mal one
     woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
     dead ringer give
     away (immediately
     points gnarled finger
     sentenced to clinker visage),

     non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
     anticipatory anxiety manifests
     as disabling, impending,
     oppressing fate
     cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
     try with futility to evade

officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
     renters passing grade
she, the consummate
     de facto grande heiress
     of Gr*e & Que
inherited plum deal,
     where lifetime employment,

     and generously paid
analogous as born
     (that way) portrayed
     maintaining poker face
     into royalty made,
now as single mother
     to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle

     abode with parents,
     thus no child
     care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
     falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
     my heart pounding
     whence approaching raid

so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
     (me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
     place to call home
     with this hole in the wall
     I would immediately
     make thee a fair trade

in lieu of living, where
     mercilessness doth parade
     expenses property upkeep,
     teaching (two
     door ring) English,
     or even employed
     as a mister minute maid.
SøułSurvivør Nov 2017
Here are some possible scripts for the phone ministry I wish to facilitate. They differ based on the tack we would take regarding incentives I wish to propose to draw people in to our grand opening. The proposal is as follows:

First I wish to say that I DON'T want to make this about ME. My talents & abilities. I just happen to have them and wish to use them for the betterment of the Kingdom. I would like to propose an incentive for new people to actually come in. Unchurched people who would NOT ordinarily do so. What better way than the universal language... MUSIC! I have produced a CD with 7 tracks on it. 5 more (including 3 Christmas songs) will be added in order to make a wonderful compilation of 12 songs. Everything from rap to ballads & Country Western. A rock song. All of the lyrics & most of the music was written by me. Most songs are performed by me as well. I have given you sample music. I can't give up the entire collection yet. All but ONE of those CDs are gone. I don't like to part with the last. But it is available to listen to if you wish. At any rate, I would like to offer a CD to each person I talk to over the phone. But they MUST attend our housewarming to receive it. I will have to get the final album up on YouTube so they can hear it. Perhaps you know of someone who can do this for me. That way folks can hear it and desire to receive it.

This will NOT be promoted over the lifepoint church! i want to make this very plain! You will see by my scripts that I "get" the pastor and his Vision. I share this vision and only wish to promote it! The CD is an incentive. Nothing more.

Why am I doing this? Because I love the Lord with all my mind, heart, SOUL & STRENGTH! I don't mind making personal sacrifices. And, as I've said, I have "caught" pastor Andy's Vision. I've been looking for a church family to work for. And i believe I finally found it! The CD would also be for sale. I'm only suggesting this, of course. I will produce the CD and pay all up-front costs myself.


SCRIPT ONE

Hello! What you are about to hear could change your life... FOREVER. YES. I'm calling from lifepoint church. Yep. Uh oh... a CHURCH!  Nope. Not asking for donations. I want to ask you to join us for our housewarming on (date) at (address).

Now I'm just going to tell you a bit about us. Our pastor is Andy Taylor. His intention is in loving people right where they are with God. And to encourage them to bring new people in to hear the message of the Gospel. People of all ethnicities, genders and backgrounds. We are not out to gather a lot of Christians in pews to get tithes & donations to make money. We are a group of authentic people who strive to be more like Jesus. If you'd like to learn more, go to www.azlifepoint.com.

I'd like to see you join us on (date)! And I'd like to give you an incentive to do so. I'm a Christian recording artist. I've written 178 songs for the Lord. 12 of these songs are compiled on a CD called POWER. It hasn't even been released yet. But I will PERSONALLY sign it and give it to you at our opening! You can hear it on YouTube at (YouTube channel info). It has everything from rap to ballads. Country Western to Christmas songs! I've got a Christian rock song on there, too. I hope you like it!

I want to send you a free Christmas poster for talking to me. May I have your address to send that?

THANK YOU! And God bless!


Script two will be like this one, but will leave out the CD incentive.


SCRIPT THREE

Hello! I'm calling from lifepoint church. We're a new, but growing, church in your area. A group of authentic people whose mission is to strive to be more like Jesus. Pastor Andy Taylor is a veteran of 16 years of ministry. He spent 10 of those years growing young Christians at the U of A. His interest isn't in filling pews to get tithes and donations to make money. He wants people who will disciple others. People of ALL races, backgrounds and genders. I can tell you personally... this is a WONDERFUL church! A church NOT made by hands... But HEARTS.

I'd like to see you here at (address) on (date) for our housewarming! We want to give you a free poster for Christmas. It's a poem written and illustrated by yours truly. Could I have your address so I can send this to you, along with an R.S.V.P. invitation? Thank you SO much!

THANKS AND GOD BLESS!


I hope one of these is OK. I'm open to suggestions, of course. My phone number is 520 406 8509. The best time to reach me is mornings or evenings after 7 pm to 10pm (I'm a nightowl! Lol!) Thanks!


Sincerely
Catherine Jarvis
Jing Xi Lau Dec 2019
The old terrace house,
My childhood home.
Sometimes I still dream of its beige concrete walls,
The cornflower tiles that lined the kitchen floor,
The tall bronze gate,
With its red wrought iron flowers.
Two cars parked by the front door,
One was mom's,
The other was yours.

In that house,
You always sat in the living room,
With the TV playing in the background,
The morning newspaper in hand.
You would buy us our favorite snacks,
While mom nagged about our calorie intake.
You loved taking us to the movies,
While mom always stayed home.

The city center condo,
The one I never dream of.
Its sleek gray walls,
Cold blank windows,
Offering a view of other monotonous condos,
Lights blinking with a sense of urgency,
Like a fatalistic warning.

In this house,
Well...
You were never really here.
Even when you were,
You sat in the living room,
With the TV playing in the background,
Your eyes glued to your pocket-sized screen.

Months later,
I left for a faraway land,
And you left for the warmth of someone else's bed.

When I came home,
You were no longer here.
But your clothes still hung in the closet,
Your deodorant sat by the dresser,
Your belongings untouched,
Collecting dust,
Waiting to be reclaimed.

But you never returned for them,
Instead,
You had them replaced.

New shirts,
Made from Chinese silk and linen,
New musk cologne,
Reeking of toxic masculinity,
And not to mention,
A new wife who cooks and cleans,
And excels in the bedroom.  
A new home,
With clean white walls,
And quiet empty rooms.

So I bought you a housewarming gift,
Something I know you would like,
A coir doormat that says,
"Welcome Home."
Rachel Sep 2018
Warm summer nights
Intended to be surrounded
By fireflies and kisses
Replaced by “hell smiles”.

Those smiles I would give
When the world was bad
But making you mad
Would make it worse.

Living through hell
With a smile on my face
For years on end
Getting comfortable there.

I unpacked my thoughts
With the occasional housewarming gift
Quickly followed by the
Beer trickled fingertips.

If those sticky fingertips
Saw anything but my fake joy
I’d be reminded I was in hell,
So, I smile.

Liquor bottles tipped over
Spit in my face from the sharp
Sound of the start of the word
“*****”.

That’s what I am.
A ***** who smiles through hell.
A ***** who catches your fall,
And keeps you from jail.

Hell smiles.
The one thing that keeps me sane
Through the nights of your terror
Is smiling in my living room of your brain.

Here, bruises are like weeds;
Insignificant, a nuisance.
Up my arms, down my legs,
Another night I smiled in hell.

But I moved out of that living room.
I forgot how to smile in hell.
And you didn’t like that,
So you found someone who could.

Now I’m alone in hell
Forgetting how to leave
And grasping for more
Than hell smiles.
ali brown May 2018
I have made a home out of my loneliness.
I have put out wind chimes.
The morning winds are my only company.
But they come , and they go.

I have put a lock on my door
So no one dare enter.
I have put out a mat that says “*******.”
So the neighbours know not to bring me a housewarming gift.
For I am not new to this neighbourhood.
I have been in this home of loneliness
for longer than they could ever imagine.
But this house ,
it's not a home.
Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
throughout Highland Manor,
property carpeted in lush green
gently hilly terrain,
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
quiet and quite cool April 26th,
deux thousand twenty one).

Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
hammering, and drilling psyche
where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
instantaneously turning
Janus faced with Machiavellian

mean streak inlaid
(how word some would say)
"stern", any previous
housewarming aura
experiencing welcome spiel,
nor iota of politesse present,
but Trumpeting her entourage,
asper self important capering escapade

taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
gung-**, brave appear afraid,
thus oft time tis most
advantageous and optimal
prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Jan Ger
harridan de jure ushering tirade

akin to a petit grand mal one
woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
dead ringer give
away (immediately
points gnarled finger
sentenced to clinker visage),

non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
anticipatory anxiety manifests
as disabling, impending,
oppressing fate
cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
try with futility to evade

officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
renters passing grade
she, the consummate
de facto grande heiress
of Gr*e & Que
inherited plum deal,
where lifetime employment,

and generously paid
analogous as born
(that way) portrayed
maintaining poker face
into royalty made,
now as single mother
to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle

abode with parents,
thus no child
care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
my heart pounding
whence approaching raid

so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
(me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
place to call home
with this hole in the poetry wall,
I would immediately
make thee a fair trade

in lieu of living, where
mercilessness doth parade
expenses property upkeep,
teaching (two
door ring) English,
or even employed
as a mister minute maid.
I'm stuck in a heart wood box
I just wish my heart would stop
I got a cute little house
But all the bedrooms are locked

And when the doorbell rang
I always had to explain
The huge ******* flames
That tore the walls from their frames

The housewarming party was popping
Seemed like a good time to stop it
Before the floors all caved in
To the caves below
that were a bit more lived-in
#molepeople amiright
Onoma Jan 29
canvases recognized your coup de

pinceau, as the easel teetered.

an energy field so kinetic--its excitability

still cannot restrain the subject matter.

as you bit down ******* your pipe,

squeezing paint directly from a tube on

to the canvas, it lumped light years.

just as you slow-cooked your hand over

a flame, to know how a flame feels.

wore the blood-wheat beard of dusk, to

be fired as a preacher.

went coal-faced, cool & damp as the soul

of a potato.

learned to draw without drawing, like

answering a knock on wood.

watched the belly of a ******* swell

with stones & rubbed it as your own.

you knew not Vincent, as they didn't--

how could thirty-seven years of merged

light know?

how could the bullet in your belly know,

how could the crows over the field know?

how could the ear to the wall of the

Yellow House know--the same sound the

sunflowers you cut knew?

the ones you went into a vase with--the

housewarming that unsettled Gaughan.

the artist colony of two, its more than

complete history.

the taste of  paint & turpentine,

withdrawal from coup de pinceau.

baptized in the frigid waters of an

asylum, so your senses could deliberate

on a verdict.

unanimous as the bandage around your

head, Theo!!!

hiding the ear you handed another

*******, a ****** shell to listen to.

suddenly you came pouring in from

everywhere.
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
The sun, the sun, the guardian's nose,
the soul in the light of light.                                                     in the darkness,
Hope in his place, the sky is dark asleep,
and just enough of the clutter of the world
around him is realized.                                                        ­     It 's a great deal
of disgusting strength, body fatigue,
and it hurts to me, things, stools,                                                     white stars,
blind people, the remains of the brain,
the neo - sanity aspect of the Nihilimus
tragedy, the electric field,
the housewarming, Surely her son,
whose mother died,
was in the middle of the morning
shaking of a new kind of security wall.

The cause of the problem
was the middle of the morning,
when it was a troublesome
connection between the lips,
the tongue, and the little jewelry
warm and the mummified.                          Beginning of the full revolution...
Voice of the Community Of Plastic
Poles Jewish Women's Glory Painting;
Softball World's Most Modern
World Clubs, Tea Lighting Axis.
Burning Gear Glove Box Newspaper
Reading Operation Tools Trader
Talking, Speaking Proudly
of Beautiful Attractions, Crystal,
Pretty, Beautiful women, women,
women, smokers of cigarettes,
Japan Japan pregnant woman's
frozen fallout Emotional
cumulative shroud revealed
Tumbler assets revealed
the Platinum colored Married
Colonel Descended into ******
By Fire; the ****** government
has holes near the hillsides
near shady shadows. For a good
time in heaven,
ice and a path to finding a path,
I obey the truth that one has seen.
Police State

The cop reports for duty, proud —
A servant to the soulless crowd:
To guard the sheep who drool and nod,
And crush the ones who won’t applaud.

But sheep are rare, a dying race —
Extinction stares them in the face.
The game is rigged, the end is near —
Just look at War and CowID fear.

Those tests? A filter, sharp and cruel,
For thugs and sadists, **** and fool.
Thus fascist ranks are swelling fast —
That "friendly cop" is in the past.

They're not police — they’re occupation.
The war was lost without citation.
Their bosses — local gauleiters grim,
While flags still flutter, proud and prim.

Unspoken war, but well advanced:
A global camp is being financed.
The chief betrayer takes the lead —
His local pawn just writes the screed.



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




They build a camp, but call it peace.
Your jailer smiles — your rights decrease.
The cop's no friend. The war is here.
Obey — or vanish in the smear.



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



"Search" Engines

You type "Igor" — ****, and bam! —
Up pops Strelkov in war-**** spam.
That’s HuYandex — pure decay,
A puppet search in war's ballet.

It was the same with CowID lies —
Chains and fraud in clean disguise.
Search once meant truth... those days are dead.
Now fascist filters rule instead.

Censorship and shadow bans,
Fake news boosted by ***** hands.
Ask a question — get a pile
Of tabloid sewage ranked in style.

They sold their souls to **** and crooks,
To tyrant clowns with plastic looks.
The wise and honest barely breathe —
Just ghosts beneath a poisoned sheath.

And Google? Worse — a global dump,
A foul and algorithmic sump.
Where fascists bark and filth ascends —
And **** is trending. Truth? Depends.



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




Search the truth — and choke on slime.
The filth is ranked. The lie’s sublime.
They code your cage, they feed your fear —
And wipe the web of what was clear.



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



Waking Nightmare

I dreamt a nightmare — drooling fools
Closed in from every side, like ghouls.
The lies grew bold, the fascist grip
Had reached a new and deadly tip.

I woke... but horror didn't fade —
The world remained a grim charade.
What once was fraud and drugged consent
Is now a camp — malevolent.



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




I woke — but still the nightmare stayed.
The world obeys. The truth’s betrayed.
It’s not a dream — it’s all too real:
A camp of chains, a spinning wheel.



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



So-Called "Zen"

HuYandex Zen? A bigger lie?!
Just censored rot, no shame to buy.
They spit on Honor, Soul, and Mind —
And Truth? Long gagged and left behind.

Their "news" — pure filth, a toxic feed
Where paid propagandists mislead.
Real Zen? A master’s cracking staff
For smacking idiots in half.

But now — a madhouse in disguise:
Each mask conceals a stream of lies.
They rot the brains of fools en masse —
A festering swamp of lying gas.



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




This "Zen" is sludge for slave control.
They twist the mind. They sell the soul.
No staff, no truth — just bile and spin.
The lie is holy. Thought’s a sin.



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



Dreams and Reality
(A twist on Pushkin's theme)

"Dreams, sweet dreams — where did you go?
They vanished. All that's left is woe."
— Thus Pushkin's lines, now turned anew,
For filth remains — and dreams withdrew.

The lies are gone, the tyrants gone,
No fascist games are carried on.
No more dumb drunkenness or hate —
And rulers now cooperate!

They freed all patents, scrapped the greed,
Let sages rule, not men of need.
Power serves wisdom — what a fate!
But wait... that dream won’t resonate.

For wishful thinking, sweet but fake,
Was diagnosed a long mistake.
So come down from your air-built throne —
And stir, with care, the **** you own.

One fate remains — to stir the mess,
And kneel beneath the lies, no less,
While Kremlin fiends, with **** grace,
Continue killing — face by face.



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




Dream’s a corpse — the stench is real.
You stir the waste, you lick the heel.
The Führer grins behind the screen —
And rules your world with gasoline.



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



Rashism and the Kremlings

They bomb Zaporizhzhia and Kharkiv —
Hit dams, high-rises, power grids.
Old ******'s corpse now coughs up scarlet —
For Russia, that's the final bid.

They coined a name — not just “fascism,”
But something fouler: rashism’s birth.
The TV foams with pure sadism —
Wild **** rot infects the Earth.

They chant their "values," twisted, fake —
Like ******’s "Aryan" crusade.
But Pootler’s show’s a cheap remake,
A grotesque, parody parade.

Like cattle to the slaughter line,
These morons march for "holy war" —
Too gutless even to define
Their bloodlust as it was before.

The colony — like Moskva's wreck —
Is sinking fast, a curse, a stain.
No exile waits on some safe deck —
Just ropes for all this filth and shame.



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




Rashism grins, the lies explode.
The kremlings march a deathbound road.
No end in exile, flight or sun —
Just hang them all. Let justice run.



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



Filthy Propagandists

The stinking hack believes he’s wise,
That only he controls the lies,
That only fools would chew this bait —
But justice has a certain weight.

Betray once — you’ll betray again.
You sell your soul, you rot for gain.
So brave in words — but deep inside,
A coward's filth you try to hide.

But here's the twist they never guess:
Their soul will pay for this disgrace.
For every smug and brazen screed —
A plague arrives to match the deed.

Their "values" led to fascist war,
To madness — rot down to the core.
As Germans once paid for their sin,
The world will crush rashism again.

That filthy voice — a deeper stain
Than torturers with tools of pain.
And still the world lies drowned, immersed
In poison words — the liar’s curse.



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




The liar rots in lies he spread.
His soul is gone. His mouth is red.
No pen, no screen will shield his name —
The world will burn him out with shame.



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



Farce

Old ******’s schemes slipped through the gate —
Through Mordor, mocked by time and fate.
Now history, in meme disguise,
Returns to dumb, enchanted eyes.

The drunks fall deep in trance and cheer,
While others laugh: “This crap? Sincere?”
It’s pure absurdity on loop —
Yet freaks still howl, that twisted troop.



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




A meme-born farce, a drunk parade —
And only fools still feel afraid.
The rest just watch the circus roll —
Where madness plays the leading role.



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



War on Reason

A war is raging, total, grim —
It’s Reason they now seek to dim.
They’ve drowned the mind in blind neglect,
Forgot you’re Spirit — what’d you expect?

The price will come: a hollow soul,
A sparkless void, no higher goal.
God’s left — and in that sudden gap
The Devil sets his breeding trap.

Forget this war? You’ll rot in chains —
In filth eternal, soaked in stains.
You’ll dwell in muck, in cursed unrest,
A walking heap with **** compressed.

The hills of waste are Everest.
While reason’s just a minor crest.
And you, beneath that crushing load,
Bear Satan’s cross on this dark road.

So cleanse yourself — cut through the lies,
Let Spirit, Reason truly rise.
And all the fascist filth you face —
Wipe off their snouts with truth and grace.



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




You rot if you forget the war.
This filth will flood you, evermore.
But Reason fights — and once you stand,
You slap the Devil’s guiding hand.



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



Gains and Losses

You gain a thing —
But lose another.
Believe bold lies —
You blind your brother.

You trust the beast —
The horns will grow.
They speak so sweet —
Then strike you low,

And down you fall
Through Hell's parade.
Go inward, all —
Don't be afraid.



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




Trust the beast — you'll lose your mind.
Look within — and truth you'll find.



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



Ordinary Fascism
(Dedicated to Mikhail Romm)

We could make films like Romm once did —
Of Bucha, Kharkiv, Zaporozhye’s grid.
Killing civilians, that’s their creed —
Genocide’s the fascist need.

Their shame is dead, their honor lost,
Their conscience crushed, no matter the cost.
For fascism needs the dull and blind,
To obey, fear the Führer’s mind.

The rashist plague has **** its pants,
In Ukraine, it met resistance.
Now only little time remains —
Fascism’s end will break its chains.

There’ll be a trial — hang them all:
The kremlings, orcs, the war’s dark thrall.
All guilty in this brutal fight —
The reckoning will bring the light.



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




Fascism’s dirt will drown and fall.
The orcs will hang — they earned it all.
No mercy for the ****** crew —
Justice comes, and it’s overdue.



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



Farewell, Fascism!

Fascists and rashists —
There stand ****** and Puylo.
Between them, communists.
Evil never mellowed.

The Sheep Virus spread —
An “Spanish flu” remake.
First lies invade the head,
Then comes the deadly stake.

Poisons, wars, again,
And lies that never cease.
We’re trapped inside a world insane,
But don’t touch the Führer’s peace —

Bow down to him, prepare to die,
Then beg the priests for grace.
If lucky, live — then purify,
And plead to save your face.

World asylum’s reign —
Farewell! The next catastrophe
Will burn these soulless stains —
Farewell, fascism’s tyranny!



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




Farewell to lies and endless hate.
The world’s mad ward will close its gate.
Soulless fiends will burn and fall —
Farewell, fascism — end it all.



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



Fascist Regime’s Convulsions

The regime convulses —
Strikes cities in its wrath.
This ****’s beyond redemption,
Only nooses clear their path.

Soon that grim fate is coming —
The noose will bring release.
The strikes will triple on the front —
The idiot’s grip will cease.

Only rashists **** civilians,
But soon the end is near.
The fascist rule will crumble down —
The ZSU holds firm here.



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




The fascists twitch, their reign will fall.
Noose tightens — justice calls.
The frontline burns, their lies decay —
Rashism’s done, no more to stay.



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



Ashes

Corrosion of the Mind,
Decay of the Soul’s core,
Nature torn, confined —
Used up, crushed, and more.

Light fades into the dark,
Truth banned, denied.
While lies ignite the spark —
Madness rules worldwide.

War and Sheep Virus’ hand,
Examples of disgrace.
Dignity, reason banned —
A stain on human race.

The dumb-down machine runs on,
Long launched, it grinds.
Morals shift — the shame goes on,
In this world that binds.

LGBT’s vile curse,
Violence and fear.
A dull decay, much worse —
A world turned into ash, unclear.



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




Mind rots, the soul’s abused.
Truth crushed, the world confused.
War’s lies burn, hope turns to ash —
A dying world’s bitter crash.



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



One of All, or All Against One

One stands alone —
While all come down as one.
Such “pleasures” shown —
Abundant, yet undone.

Nothing ever changes:
This mad world decays,
Poor and broken stages,
Lost in endless haze.

One mind rules a hundred —
But hunted down for truth.
Reason deemed a blunder,
“Attack the not your youth!”

For "us or them"
No reason’s in demand —
Only instinct’s helm.
While Spirit fades, unmanned.



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




One fights all — the world’s a beast.
No mind survives — the Spirit ceased.
“Us versus them” — no thought, no soul,
Just primal howls to fill the hole.



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



Fascist ****

The last reserves are slipping,
To not fall in the pit.
A fatal power draining,
And nowhere else to sit.

If you step out—fools swarm,
They feed fascism’s might.
No longer humans, vermin,
A plague that spreads the blight.

Fascism’s filthy spawn—
Breeds traitors by the score.
No exit, just the dawn
Of shame and fear once more.

But fight you must, relentless,
To die with honor’s breath.
Forget the twisted pests —
Defy, erase their death.



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




Fascist **** breeds fear and lies.
No shame beneath their hollow skies.
But fight, resist — and hold your ground,
Till all their filth is underground.



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



Rashism

Calling foes fascists — what a joke!
This madness no sane mind can poke.
How did the sheep become rashists?
Only sarcasm cuts through this.

Logic fails to hold the thread —
Can you grasp the lies they spread?
Those vict’ry-mad faces bare,
Masks off for attacks unfair.

Mariupol’s staged disgrace,
Bucha’s pain in every place.
Schools, hospitals, plants destroyed,
Skyscrapers and war deployed.

Kids are slaughtered everywhere —
These filthy jackals don’t care.
Shaming Russia? They claim so loud —
But fools just echo lies allowed.



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




Rashism’s lies — a foul parade.
Sheep march blind, the truth betrayed.
Kids die while jackals feast,
On poisoned lies from west to east.



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



Grave-ization

To “Kobzon’s concert”
All the orcs now go.
In Ukraine, you ******* —
They’ll **** you, slow or quick, no show.

Try to sneak or strike again —
Or after — no reprieve.
From the “concert,” you descend
To Hell, no one to grieve.

Kharkiv, Kyiv, Bucha bleed —
Fighting peaceful souls, you fight.
Black clouds gather over beasts —
Once humans, now lost to night.

Dead children — hundreds lie,
Your path to Hell is paved.
Tomorrow or today —
One way for you, depraved.



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




Orcs march to death’s song loud.
No mercy in the crowd.
Your road is Hell, no turning back —
Your fate’s a one-way track.



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



Dumbosaurians

Dumbosaurians — not pterodactyls,
A thriving, cursed breed unfolds.
Though remnants of their minds are spent,
War and CowID mean no torment.

Dumbosaurian daughters rise,
A twisted legacy in disguise.
Humanity’s destruction plan —
For lizards’ sake, they wreck the land.



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




Dumbosaurians breed and spread,
Brains long gone, but still they tread.
War and lies their deadly script —
Human fate by reptiles gripped.



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



Show Business

Show biz started with the freaks,
A circus farce, no change but tweaks.
When all the crowds are dull and base,
The whole thing’s just a hollow space.

Perfect for the simple mind,
A dulling game, a trap designed.
The ***-shaker’s always loose,
Serving vice and dark abuse.

To dumb down and defile the best
Of Soul’s pure cries — a vile jest.
Sure, some exceptions may arise,
But mostly vermin crawl in lies.

And mainstream’s full of that decay —
Propaganda’s filthy sway.
Man sinks low to beastly planes,
Losing Spirit’s vital chains.

So only pure, bright souls can bear
The light of poetry to share.
As for the rest — that endless slime,
Spit it out, and leave it grime.



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




Showbiz fools drag souls to dust.
Only light can break the rust.
Spit the filth, don’t feed the lies —
True art lives where spirit flies.



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



“Progress”

Pump the junk with extra force,
Ramp the war — let chaos course.
Treat the masses just like skins,
Value only what begins.

Put all hides into the grind,
Make a servant skin designed,
One who knows the lies and whip —
This world’s doom’s a sinking ship.



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




Feed the junk, fuel the fight.
Turn the world to endless night.
Skin the herd, no hope to fix —
Progress? Just a ***** trick.



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



The Farm

Caught like mice within a trap,
Born into this cruel scrap —
Creatures wait to make their move,
You’re a target in their groove.

They’ll heap "cheese" beyond control,
But that cheese has turned to mold.
You’re the profit for the hound,
This world — a farm, tightly bound.

Yet the slaughter’s drawing near,
Inevitable and clear.
Now, in lies’ last fevered grip,
Their cursed herd begins to slip.

The herd has gorged on lies so deep,
This foulness they have come to keep.
One last chance remains to break
The chains of falsehoods that they make.

Or devils’ll drag the fools away
To their hell where darkness stays.
While filthy wretches, foul and crude,
Will perish in the stench of feud.



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




Caught like mice, a deadly game.
The world’s a farm — a profit’s claim.
Break the lies or burn in hell —
The final choice, the last farewell.



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



Sheep Virus and War

What once was rabbit,
Now minced to mash.
Fool, drunkard, idiot —
All part of the stash!

Mask’s no problem —
Passed the test’s call.
Put on your helmet —
March to your fall.

Test subjects, rabbits,
“Meat” for the fight:
If you don’t think —
You’re deep in the night.

Deep in hell’s pit.




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




Rabbits trapped, no thought or care,
Meat for war in devil’s lair.
Mask on, march, the herd’s disgraced —
Lost to lies, trapped and erased.



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



Sheep Virus “Doctors”

They graduated vivisection’s school —
That filth with minds forever dull.
Brains? — impotence inside their head,
Prescriptions read like deathly dread.

Money, money — greed’s foul game,
And sadism fuels their shame.
Like Pechenegs, they rage and storm,
With fascism in deadly form.

They’ll hang them all when reckoning calls —
Those pawns who made the monster’s walls.



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




Vivisectors with poisoned hands,
Money-driven, cruel commands.
Hang the pawns who made the beast —
End the plague, and find release.



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



Hybrid War

Herds of frightened fools abound,
Madness spilling all around,
Lies that only rotten ****
Swallow whole — no pause, no hum.

Barks, howls, screams — the box of lies
Breeds chaos, darkness in disguise.
This chaos, real and raw,
Used for psychic warfare’s law.

No more saving cash or gold,
This is war, its price is cold.
Idiots, neurotics’ pain —
Make the whole land numb and drained.

Killing isn’t best, they say —
Mines should maim, not take away,
So sons inherit scars and strife,
The crippled legacy of life.



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




Madness floods, the fools comply,
Lies like poison fill the sky.
Maim, don’t **** — the war’s cruel game,
Legacy of pain and shame.



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



Fun in the Madhouse

“A nightmare hour of fun,”
Awakening — just a spark.
A housewarming in the madhouse —
You’ve slipped into the dark.

Born into a madman’s Hell,
Is guilt or innocence to tell?
Joy in this loud, twisted home,
Right amid the war’s dark dome.

A war on Soul and Mind unfolds,
We’re plague to Earth, as truth foretold.
Three quarters — maybe more —
This madhouse fills to its core.

The layer of the wise grows thin,
While fools and madness reign within.



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




Born in Hell, the madhouse roars,
Mind and Soul wage endless wars.
Few remain who see the light —
Lost within this endless night.



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



Idiots

Clinical idiots all around,
You could fill ponds with fools unbound.
How to live ‘mid shattered minds,
And chase the goals one seeks to find?

It’s hard, but here’s the vital key:
Don’t argue, shun the misery.
Bring light to those who still can see —
Let wisdom fight this mockery.



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




Idiots crowd, the world’s a mess.
Don’t fight — just shine, and nothing less.
Light up minds that still can hear —
The answer to this madness here.



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



Decay by Lies

A joke:
A trial’s on. The judge inquires:
“Plaintiff, do you recognize
The man accused, who stole your ride?”
“Since his lawyer’s speech, I doubt it’s mine.”

After lawyer’s twisted speech,
TV’s madness, lies that preach,
So-called “scientist” and seer,
In robes that bring only sneer,

What remains is but deceit,
In minds, decay’s complete.
Like sheep led to the slaughter’s pen,
Lies grow, multiplied again.

The growth, the mass, the spreading blight,
Soon turns the world to endless night.
A global camp of rotting shame,
Where all the earth’s consumed by flame.

Forever here it will endure,
Generations stupid, sure,
Crawling low in shameful guise —
Decay makes traitors in disguise.



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




Lies breed rot and endless shame,
Truth dissolves, consumed by flame.
Sheep led blind to darkest fate —
World decays beneath the weight.



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



Global Cretinism

Idiots like crows descend,
Lies their only message send.
Total falsehood rules the day,
Reason’s stiff, begins to sway.

That small fraction left of mind
Rarely here is now to find.
Prison walls surround the Thought,
Spirit’s flame is barely caught.

All must fall, no sorrow kept —
This global prison’s cracked and swept.
Cataclysm soon will come,
Not much time to beat the drum.

And worldwide cretinism’s grip
Leaves no space for mercy’s sip.



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




Crows of fools in lies entwined,
Reason’s gone, the soul confined.
Cataclysm’s near and grim —
No mercy for the world so dim.



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



Swimming to Hell Amid the Ocean of Lies

Once there were “far distant lands” —
But all were smeared by slander’s hands.
Then everything was lost for good:
Spawn of evil lied as they stood.

Those creatures lie as breaths they take,
Yet truth we cannot seem to wake.
The whole of truth has drowned and died,
Beneath fierce propaganda’s tide.

In propaganda’s filthy sea,
So much foul stench and cruelty,
That all will drown — those ****, those fiends.
Only fools cheer on these scenes.

They don’t want thought, just obey,
Chew the lies and drift away.
In a world of dull-witted throngs,
The wise must dream of other songs.

But pride and scorn block every way —
So in this drift, we sink and sway,
To Hell we sink, too weak to strive,
Lazy souls can’t stay alive.



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




Truth drowns deep in lies’ dark sea,
Fools rejoice in slavery.
Pride blocks paths to freedom’s shore —
So we sink forevermore.



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



Sterlet and Inhuman Beasts

Body armor, helmet worn —
The slaughter rages full and torn.
Before, just masks to hide the face,
Like pike stalking carp in place.

Global fascism fools all throngs,
The wise gudgeon swims among.
To the fire, it’s gonna burn —
Inhuman kings will twist and turn.

If the beasts have bowed their heads,
Only slaughter lies ahead.
There’s a place for sterlet still,
But trapped within the global mill.

A world camp looms ahead,
“Care” on Reichstag’s walls is read.
A sign fools trust and bow to,
While madness reigns in darkened view.



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




Armor on, the slaughter's near,
Fascist beasts bring doom and fear.
Only sterlet’s chance remains —
In this world of death and chains.



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



Half a Dog

Football, hockey, pop — half-dog’s show,
Where intellect is running low.
Feed them "hay" and feed them "oats,"
From the news — chaos floats.

Add a false plague, war’s new game,
In school and college, lies proclaim.
Rule by falsehood every day —
Dull stumps will all obey.

They’ll believe and blindly go,
To slaughter like a sauna’s flow.
Taking with them those who think —
Down the dark abyss they sink.



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




Half a dog, half a mind,
Fed with lies, the herd’s confined.
Blind to truth, they march away —
Taking light and hope astray.



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



Desires and Such

Desires of a *******,
Long since off the charts.
Fascism’s just a trick,
But basically — all sharts.

The ******* rules this place,
With false wants to deceive.
They poison minds nonstop —
To hell with what they weave.

Chekist’s friend is deceit,
Lies are power’s core.
In this foggy, bleak world,
Only darkness pours.



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




*******’s whims, lies that reign,
Fascist games, endless pain.
Chekist’s tools in shadows play —
Truth dissolves, lost in the fray.



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



The Bottom

Russia’s bottom—deep and dark,
The war revealed but just a spark.
A massive shadow long has stayed,
Sheep virus showed the fools displayed.

It also showed the traitors’ ranks,
But wild beasts outdid all thanks—
No one thought to see the worst:
Oprichniks in cities cursed,

Shooting children, women, all,
Bringing joy to beasts who maul.
So that “country” stands in shame —
A pit, a hell, a burning flame.



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




Russia’s depths—dark, cold, and grim,
War’s faint light can’t save or trim.
Beasts and traitors rule the day,
Hell on Earth, no hope, no way.



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



Fascist Regimes

Don’t flirt with the REGIME,
Don’t trust their empty schemes.
All regimes are lies and pain —
Ruled by beasts who bring the bane.

Satanism’s their twisted creed,
For the “top” who sow the ****.
Chains are forged for you, their prey —
In Bedlam slow death holds its sway.

Turning men to beasts, they crawl,
Lies abound, the worst of all.
Fewer judges, cops grow mean,
Madness spreads in every scene.

Lies migrate through chaos wide —
World’s a madhouse, none to guide.
**** disguise as “kindly” guides,
Servants of the folks — their lies.

Don’t believe, build bonds instead,
Smash the lies that poison head.
No delay — autonomy claim,
Grow your strength and break their game.



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




Regimes lie, beasts command,
Chains for you across the land.
Fight their lies — don’t trust, don’t kneel,
Build your strength and break their seal.



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



Traitors and Snitches

Fooling nations, lies that bind,
Mockery, fear, and shame combined.
For fascist madmen, death’s not enough—
They want you stupid, dull, and rough.

To make a fool’s their wicked joy,
Become a traitor, snitch, their toy.
It only adds to their dark drive,
Soulless hearts that thrive to deprive.

Soullessness—their holy grail,
Idiots drunk on lies prevail.
Without a soul, no whim to spare,
They’re puppets tangled in despair.

This is what their masters crave—
Beasts who enslave and misbehave.
The snitch serves lies, a fog so thick,
But in the end, the fool’s the trick.

He’ll get nothing—join the heap,
With idiots, in darkness deep.
Snitches wiped like paper thin—
Rot and ruin from within.



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




Traitors, snitches, soulless drones,
Feeding lies to break the bones.
In the end, they’ll all fall down—
Rotting kings without a crown.



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



Scavengers

Positions aimed, locked tight—
In minds and lands alike.
Such here are brutal rites—
To crush all down to dust alike.

First strike the mind’s domain,
Then nothing stands in way.
A world ruled by fascist bane,
The people silent, led astray.

No people left to claim—
Traitors, fools, two-thirds the same.
Fed lies and rot until insane,
They charge again through flood and flame.

Attacking kin and near,
False plagues they spread in fear.
Like witches on their broom appear,
Propagandists prowl, drawing near.

They feed on carrion’s scent,
Injecting lies with vile intent.
Zombies ready, blindly bent—
A world lost, nearly spent.



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




Scavengers hunt minds and lands,
Fascist grips with iron hands.
Lies injected, brains decay—
Zombies march, lost souls sway.



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



The Führer and the Fool

The Führer nervously smokes —
Plans piled high in heaps.
Born of laziness and jokes,
Rot within that seeps.

The Führer dies, replaced,
A new one takes the throne.
The fool just stands, disgraced,
Endures the brutal drone.

Worse than Mussolini’s grip,
That seasoned fool remains —
So used to rot and lies that slip,
Drowned deep in endless chains.



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




Führer burns with anxious breath,
Plans to bring the world to death.
Fool endures the toxic game —
Rot and lies, their deadly claim.



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



Media and Whips

The media feed the ****’s delight,
To stench the world in endless blight.
They revel only in the smell—
Without the stink, no feast to tell.

Goats with horns jump wild and free,
Their fascist lackeys hold the key.
With whips they rule, the media worms,
Controlling fools in endless swarms.

That fascist ****, with no remorse,
Will crush or break with brutal force.
The sheep are mute, their minds all killed,
Reason gone, just chaos spilled.

The Spirit’s gone, replaced with sludge,
Where once were minds, now toxic sludge.
The sheep all dance in putrid haze,
While whips are stored for darker days.



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




Media stench controls the herd,
Fascist whip commands the word.
Sheep are dumb, their minds all lost—
In the stink, they pay the cost.



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



Structure Built of Lies

The haze dissolved? Not quite!
It lasted long, a rotten blight —
A mess of lies, an endless fight,
A structure forged in falsehood’s spite.

When lies spread deep, destruction’s seed,
From roof to base, the rot proceeds.
This rotten frame will surely fall,
Again, it’s bound to lose it all.

It’s fallen once, and many times—
Yet lies conceal the past’s hard crimes.
This latest falsehood’s broken through—
A sieve where all the lies come through.

Keep lying on, keep spinning tales—
The hour’s fixed; the system fails.
So thick with falsehood, fraud, disgrace,
No other end can take its place.



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




Built on lies, the rotten frame,
Soon will fall, and bring the shame.
Falsehood floods, no truth survives—
Collapse is near, no hope survives.



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



The Rashism Dilemma

A tangled, twisted dilemma brews —
Fascism’s scheme begins to lose:
What to do with memes grown old,
Themes worn out, and stories told?

Fascism needs more dumb design,
An endless drip to clog the mind.
A mental cleansing, cruel and grim—
That’s how rashism tries to cling.

To hold on just a little while,
Then flee the land with weary style.
For battle’s lost, no strength to fight—
Only surrender marks their plight.

The fall of fascism must bring
A cooling of the idiot ring.
So rashism dies, no tragic show—
Just fading fast, its final blow.



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




Fascism’s scheme begins to crack,
Old memes no longer hold it back.
Dumbness forced to plug the mind—
Rashism’s end is near to find.



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



The Propagandists’ False Agenda

Mimes — just passing by!
Into the woods! Don’t buy
The mask’s deceitful show,
No signs to guide them so—

Like scripted manuals,
For broken mentalals,
The liars listen close,
Deceiving friend and those.



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




Mimes walk by — don’t fall for lies,
Masks hide truth behind their guise.
Scripts feed madness, false and grim,
Liars’ words corrupt the dim.



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



The Slaughter of the Sheep

The slaughter of the sheep begins at dawn,
Too much filth on Earth — the lies go on.
The first vet comes to lead the way—
No need for drugs, just lies to sway.

For fascism, it’s all a gain,
Feeding lies that cause the pain.



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




Sheep are culled at break of day,
Too much filth won’t fade away.
Lies serve fascist greed and game—
No cure, just feeding flame.



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



Man to Man a Friend, and... Furry Brother

“Furry paw” commands the rule,
A satrap’s grip, cold and cruel.
Not “for” — but chained and led away,
Killed silent, stealthy, day by day.

“Friend” — just words on posters spread,
A wolf inside the zoo instead.
Brother? Furry, wild, and mad—
All of them are psychopaths.



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



Furry Brother

Furry paw — the tyrant’s hand,
Silent **** across the land.
“Friend” — a wolf behind the door,
Brother? Psychopaths galore!



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



Repeaters

"Drink the sludge, wear your muzzle,
Put on your helmet next —
In fascism, you’ll repeat a year,
On the third they’ll make you — livestock, vexed.

Just obey, swallow their lies,
Raise betrayal into cult’s might:
The traitor grins, your false “priest,”
He’ll lead you blind — you’re just a sprite.

At first they paint you like cattle,
Then erase to draw the ****.
And all is justified by lies —
For now, it’s lies that doom.**



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



Hello...

Unbribable, untouchable
By vile creatures — hello!
An unfortunate imbecile
Answers, lost in sorrow.

We’ve worn out Nature’s patience —
World’s madhouse all around.
How low we’ve fallen, degraded —
All turned into cattle bound?

There will be Light! — the Sun will burn
This global madhouse down.
Not all will fall to scoundrels’ hands,
Nor rot as filthy clown.



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



The Naked King

The "Naked King" — not new Führer, not beast,
Just a common cracked fool, his mind deceased.
Naked means nothing — the king’s just a slave,
Called so as all strength from the masses gave.

They call Darkness "civilization,"
Pretend “wise” are the common population,
Distracting all eyes from the cruel freaks’ reign,
Those mad demons who rule with disdain.

Everywhere “kind” and “royal” are found —
In foul stench, in dog food on the ground,
Called “nutrition,” the media’s foul scent —
A total mess, nonsense to the extent!

And there’s nothing left to clothe these beasts,
Mad ones wrapped in their delirious feasts.
In nauseous madness and lies they stew,
Like frogs, from reason not even a clue.

That trace of reason lost in the sand,
A narrow path where a caravan once planned.
Once frogs sat deep in the swampy slime,
Now they stew in vats of phony grime.




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



The Passage

No man remains — just a strangling snake,
That squeezes, crushes, suffocates all in its wake.
There’s a passage: fools drift one way,
Traitors and liars the other way stray.

A steep path climbs to heights above,
Dangerous — for the rare ones with love,
Who won’t bow their necks to the yoke,
Nor sink in the mire of fear and lies spoke.

Only the few will reach that peak,
Among the many, it’s freedom they seek.
They’ll soar like birds, forever free,
Though no nests are built there, only liberty.



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



Fuhrer’s Counter

Make a Geiger counter for lies,
Or it’s the end, no compromise.
Don’t touch that zombie-box — beware:
One touch, and you’re done — despair.

Like a bomb of megatons — two hundred strong,
This madness going on so long!
The fool believes, the noise goes loud —
He’s already dead, no mask allowed.

“Chemical defense” charade,
Masks, trash, helmets all displayed.
The fascist fiend with lies anew
Launches attacks — the sickest crew.

— The End —