Fallen Heroes
Fallen heroes, truly—
Just a poet’s voice,
Or a pen swung duly
To defy the noise.
Writers sharp and daring—
Not for sale or fame.
Publishers be swearing?
***** them. Play no game.
Shout the truth unshaken,
Even if alone,
Like a soul forsaken
In a desert zone.
Gloriously perishing,
Having served your term,
Loving Light and cherishing
Soul through rot and worm.
Fallen heroes, burning
Truth through Hell’s facade—
Kept their spirit yearning,
Flamed through filth and fraud.
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1.
They burned with truth, not sold or tamed —
In Hell they roared, not just complained.
2.
No deals. No mask. No fake applause.
They died for Light — not for a cause.
3.
Their soul stayed clean. The world — decayed.
They lit the rot. And weren’t afraid.
4.
In lies they stood — the blazing few.
No fame. No fear. Just truth they knew.
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The Subtraction Master
Master of Subtraction —
Strips the lies away,
Clears the mind’s distraction,
Burns the rot to clay.
For the tainted spirit,
Paths are sharp and few.
Earth and thought? Don’t fear it —
Both are filled with stew.
Master of Subtraction
Cuts through all the grime.
Purest mind — no faction —
Walks the road sublime.
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The Sweatshop System
The sweatshop system—
A soul-crushing pit.
Every gear is sharpened—
To obey? Just quit.
Or chasing "carrots,"
You’ll stumble, dumb mule.
Broken, twisted, mangled—
That’s the system’s rule.
Life’s too vast, and humans,
If free, would find the way,
Not served up on platters—
But earned in honest sway.
The sweatshop system—
Makes fools on the line.
Fools live on lies and memes,
No chains—but still confined.
For “carrots” cost less
Than prisons or death’s reign.
From childhood slaves absorb
The lies and shadow’s pain.
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1.
Slave to carrots, chained in mind,
Freedom lost—just fools confined.
2.
System grinds the soul to dust,
Lies and memes — the only trust.
3.
Cheap carrots bait the slave’s march,
Truth buried deep beneath the arch.
4.
Born to serve, fed lies from birth,
The sweatshop crushes all true worth.
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Slipshod Propaganda
Slip-slop:
Feed the crowd with lies and noise.
Flop-flip —
Spread the fear, create the void.
All a mess—
Propaganda, control—pure shame deployed.
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Reading Material
Beer for reading,
Hangovers fleeing,
Often skipping,
Just joy leaking...
But to drown the mind, that potion
Serves its purpose — clear devotion.
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Baron Munchausen’s Pull
Baron Munchausen will pull his hair—
And peace will circle ‘round, they say.
But fools who trust in tales so bare
Are lost inside the grand cliché.
Clownish politicians, pawns so small,
Serve masters whose aim is not peace.
The world itself—too dim, too dull—
A shooting range where hopes decrease.
Baron Munchausen will stretch out time,
While **** plots vile schemes to fall
On all the world—a poisoned crime,
Creating rot that feeds the thrall.
If the world’s a swamp, then where to go?
No place to pull yourself or fight.
The fate of fools is sunk below,
Drowned in the mire, lost to light.
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Megatons of Battle Lies
How to craft equivalents
For total, vile deceit,
When everywhere the remnants
Of lies surround and cheat?
Madness forms perception’s base
For most who walk this Earth.
A curse, a spell, a twisted trace—
The fiends exult in birth.
With battle lies, these creatures ****
The Mind and Spirit’s core.
No grace remains—hell’s flames now grill
Us, trapped in lies and war.
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1.
Lies explode—megaton weight,
Killing mind, sealing fate.
2.
Battle lies burn soul and brain,
Hell’s deceit — relentless pain.
3.
Fiends feed lies to ***** our light,
Darkness wins the endless fight.
4.
No oil left, just fiery hell—
Trapped in lies, we choke and dwell.
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Powerless Fool
Powerless fool —
One single reflex.
Seems so cute —
A dumb brute’s flex.
“Forward!” he hears,
“Attack!” the call.
He’ll crush us all—
One brutal brawl.
He’s the mass,
A Darkness knight.
Darkness reigns—
A sellout blight.
Dumb as hell,
He fights the fight,
For fascist hell—
Against our light.
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Gastrointestinal "Civilization"
Stomach full,
Plenty of shows,
Slogans drilled,
Money flows.
Other things?
Don’t give a ****.
“Smart” folks play
Poker scams.
One’s a nerd—
Bullies the weak.
In fascist muck?—
Lies they speak.
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1.
Full guts, dumb brains,
Money rules, knowledge drains.
2.
Stomach stuffed, mind’s a joke,
Truth’s a bluff — lies provoke.
3.
Smart ones cheat, weak get crushed,
Fascist lies and lies all hushed.
4.
Gut-fed fools, no truth to seek,
Civilization? Just the weak.
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Demos
Demos — Demon:
The demon inside dissolves.
Darkness reigns—
In that dark decay evolves.
Lost in nonsense,
Without Fire’s baptism,
We choke and drown,
No light, no wisdom.
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Overfed
Overfed — it’s hard to work.
Must a poet always starve?
Better dead than lost in murk—
Dead, at least, won’t twist and carve.
Only dead poets meet
Most demands, almost all.
If much remains unsung,
It’s better — critics call.
A simple image works,
Critics love the easy score.
Read it quick, no strain, no quirks—
Light info, nothing more.
Ease beats depth — that’s what they want,
Sugar-coat it, keep it light.
Even this’s a crooked hunt—
Selling out to shallow sight.
Get stuck here, but know the line —
Die soon, brother, don’t delay.
Pioneers got heaps of rhymes,
So know your place, obey.
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Consumption and "Delusions"
“Often the surest way to fool a man—
Is telling him the purest truth.”
— Mark Twain’s words to understand,
A trap that blinds, a twisted proof.
They rarely lead into “delusion” —
**** crawl through media’s lies,
Schools and colleges spread confusion,
Killing minds where wisdom dies.
“Delusion” is the knowing torn
Against fascist filth that grips the globe.
Consumption reigns — the falseborn thorn,
The idol carved in greed’s own robe.
Total lies have worn us thin—
Conscience vanished from the earth,
Soulless masses lost within,
For the Wise, the world’s a curse.
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Kitchen, Church, and Kids
Kitchen, church, and kids confined,
Cookbooks locked in narrow minds—
What can children gain or know
From obedient, empty show?
---------------------
Beast to *****
From beast to *****, still must grow —
This zoo-circus, all *** and back.
So few faces, lost the glow —
No saving here, just endless lack.
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Cookbook
Cookbook, TV series,
Not a moment for knowing.
In the chaos, mind disappears—
No chance for true growing.
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The Making of Misery
“We’ll leave this world as dumb and vile
As when we found it once,” they said. — Voltaire’s trial.
No — dumber, meaner, that’s our role,
A soulless fiend that kills the whole.
This fiend’s a tool for beasts below,
To dull the world, keep minds too slow.
Since childhood fools believe the lies,
The bar is set low, truth denies:
Eat, breed, “find joy” — the empty test.
So fiends breed woes; with ****, they jest.
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“Builders” of Communism
A Soviet ****, no burden —
A “builder,” in blind accord,
Faith in “bright” lies stubborn,
In garbage they move forward.
They churn out cheap and ******,
Feed on filth, dull and brashly.
Build the vile — yet can’t perceive,
In their own crap, no shame to grieve.
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Extraction of Spirit in Pseudoscience and False-Life Patterns
“To grasp the best is work begun —
To bring it forth, the deed is done.”
— Jean Guéhenno
To grasp the best — but from your youth
They lie with brazen, ugly ruth.
Hard to believe when lies surround,
The body’s not a god profound.
This is the template everywhere,
The sum of lies, the Spirit’s snare.
They drive it out of thought’s domain:
In pseudoscience — pure disdain.
And so the world in falsehood sinks,
More nonsense spewed, no time to think.
The Spirit’s Light drifts far, astray,
While “consciousness” breeds fear and sway.
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“Real Men”
So-called “real men” —
Their backs unbowed again,
Still follow orders cold,
And **** the close and bold.
But rise they cannot more —
They trust the **** they adore,
In “God” they place their blind accord —
True madness rules this sordid horde.
In this cruel world, the herd stays mute,
The rabble’s voice: a silent brute.
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School —
A kitchen of abuse,
Where freaks are baked profuse.
Who’ll fight the Dark’s tight clutch,
When all they make is such?
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Global Garbage
Dignity —
In this dump? No way.
Only a gun will aid the bandit’s play,
Not in the world’s widespread decay.
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Filth
Rotten **** behind the gun,
Where have all the people gone?
Genocide and war persist,
They mow them down, none can resist.
But the **** will find their dens —
Soon the honest will be ends.
World-wide fascism will reign,
In hell the ******* will remain.
But just for now — the cataclysms,
Best escape from fascist schisms.
They’ll burn it all — then peace will come.
All this filth will be undone.
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Beach and *****
Beach and ***** —
Is that a rest?
Don’t pretend you’re something more —
Or you’re just less.
Run and swim —
That’s how you’re strong.
In your shorts right at the door:
If they glare — just laugh along.
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Adequacy?
Adequate — to serve the shame
Of vile, dishonored beasts?
A world locked up inside its frame,
In terror 'midst deceits.
Few are monsters, many real,
Yet if this **** should rule,
Satan posing as God’s seal —
Adequacy’s a fool.
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***-Kissers
***-kissers all with endless greed—
Demand the juiciest treat.
Feed their backsides, then proceed
To climb the ranks, elite.
Find a better ***, you’ll rise—
In politics you’ll play.
But lose your own? You’ll pay the price—
You vanish, fade away.
They’ve got a nose for **** and lies,
These freaks who crawl so far.
Their gut’s their guide, their star that flies—
A dark and fetid star.
In world of *****, guts, and slime,
The stench is everywhere.
And brains? Just jelly every time—
If climbing up’s your prayer.
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So-Called "Professionalism"
There, the soul’s distortion’s guaranteed,
Through templates all they see, and heed.
They force the world to fit their mold,
And chaos reigns—madness uncontrolled.
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How to Become a Sheep...
“Afraid to be someone, at last I became no one.”
— Emil Cioran
False goals steer —
Choice’s a lie;
Fear from cradle —
Nothing’s nigh.
Fear and lies,
Faith in a beast;
Everywhere sheep —
Serving the feast.
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Squeezing the Third World Dry
Third world drained —
Flushed down the drain,
Every drop ****** out,
Left only pain.
Back again —
Third world’s deep pit,
Toilet’s hold —
Where hopes all sit.
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The Path and Drivel of a Gray Mare, a Citizen
Fed with nonsense,
Spurred by fear,
A path in darkness —
To **** adheres.
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The Essence of Tyrants’ Rule
To rule —
To crush
All who oppose,
And turn the rest to fools
As strength bestows...
Look! Two-thirds are idiots, froze!
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Constant Lies
Tick-tock tank —
Armor forged in lies.
A mass assault of fake,
Not a world, but **** disguised.
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Explosive Work
Keep your lines sharp, like knives,
End each rhyme with pointed strikes.
If your verses lack the bite—
Slash your veins, pour out the fight.
Now the blood is thin as water:
Crush some TNT and slaughter
All that dullness—let it burn,
Explode the poem—no return!
If your strength is running low,
Fuel with thermonuclear glow.
Let your lines spit venom fast—
Weak and tame won’t ever last.
Blow yourself up with your verse,
Or in Hell you’ll be immersed.
To blow the whole **** Hell away—
The crucial task—why wait today?
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Goals run aground;
Thoughts drowned in lies —
They babble nonsense,
Multiply your rise.
Strength of Spirit —
Here’s the core:
If no luck found —
Devour the gore.
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They beat our own! But not quite there —
On screens they lead the beasts to dare,
False trails for all to blindly chase —
The box of lies, the root disgrace.
The traitors strike from high above,
Their wretched days, their lies they shove
Into fools forced to slave and bleed,
Sent off to war for darkest greed.
One goal — to drag them down below,
Beneath the depths where nothing grows.
The floor is cracked; no shock will bend
The triumph of that cruel end.
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So-called "the people"—
Zombies, fools, and traitors,
Monsters skilled in theft and greed,
The bulk, they call the masses.
If this is truly "people,"
Then all is truly bleak:
Destroy this rabble—
For Earth, like fleas on a cat, they’re weak.
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Rashist Newsfeed
Rashist news — a slaughter’s chant,
Propaganda’s endless rant.
Watch that crap — you’ll turn to wood,
Worthless oak, no good at all, you should.
Worm-eaten oak, a cheap disgrace,
Made into plugs to clog the place.
Once mere "cogs" in "happy" times,
Now the filth in power climbs.
The box of lies—now Führer’s throne,
Commands flow only from its tone.
They’ll saw the oak, strip off its bark,
No shame to wallow in the dark.
And it’ll serve as plugs instead—
To stop the *** from bursting red.
Where the matches? Where the fuel?
Hey, Chief-Zomb-Goat, what’s your rule?
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Labels and "Isms"
Generations full of sloth and crap,
A ****** trail of dumb collapse.
Decay and fools in every head—
In “consciousness,” just nonsense spread.
Only sparks, few grains remain
Of true awareness through the pain.
Not dreams or thoughts that fade away—
The whole **** mind’s ground into clay.
Genocide lasts through the years;
Fascism rules, confirming fears.
Yet rotten fools bow down and praise
Each “ism” in this sick malaise.
New or old — the “ism’s” game,
Communism, or human’s name—
Labels hung in madman’s gaze,
Fascism wears them all the same.
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Filth on Screen
The bacillus of films twists the facts,
Distorts the truth till it all cracks.
Films worse than terror’s cruel attack—
Poisoned lies fed to billions back.
They shove it through the stench-filled streams,
Through schools, through rest—no place for dreams.
Hybrid wars inject their schemes,
Instead of bombs, these toxic memes.
Not just the victims, armies built
From docile fools, by fear and guilt.
Fascism rises, sows the pain,
While believers fuel its reign.
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The Cuckoo
Cuckoo, how long will you keep tocking
In this mad, corrupt, forsaken place?
Killing soul and mind, soul-blocking —
Enduring vile disgrace with grace?
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Like Christmas...
Mad fools bring all the troubles here,
A twisted, broken, ruthless crowd.
Years drag on, like worn-out gear,
In fascism’s grim, triumphant shroud.
They shaped us with the fake CowID,
Then tested us with brutal war.
Few honest minds remain to see —
The **** who never think, deplore.
The worst enemy by far, these pests,
Through them will come the grim “reign,”
Of genocide — their vile guests —
They’ll greet this horror like a gain.
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The Groundhog Age
The Groundhog Age — destruction, wars,
And endless rule of iron hand!
If slaves you are — then bear the cause,
The vile worm’s who rules the land.
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Simpleton Fool...
Simpleton fool — is it fate,
Or just genetics’ cruel bait?
No, it’s Doom — the world will die
Through their hands, a slave and lie.
Madness rules, and all they do
Is wild chaos, nothing new.
But impossible by lies so vile
To make truth bend for a while.
Lie must be pushed, bold and loud,
Through the ages, thick as cloud.
Fears must spread, a filthy seed,
Sown forever — madness’ creed.
Simpleton fool — the mass around,
A madhouse whole, no soul is found.
Conscience, honor, spirit slain —
They make beasts out of the sane.
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Ivan the Fool, Western Style
Billy bullied, beat him down,
With wild lies, a vicious crown.
Crafting this new breed of kind —
Where the mind’s left almost blind.
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*******
So much *******, little sense,
Like a storm of nonsense dense.
******* makes you crippled, blind —
Castrated fools of every kind.
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Path of the Fighting Sheep
Alma mater —
A dull and bitter grind,
A stubborn ***** —
Love’s cursed bind.
Lost in faiths,
A fool’s hobby spree,
Wives, girlfriends,
Friends, neighbors — pitiful debris.
Endless struggles
To forget death’s game,
A stupid ram,
In fear and shame,
Marches to labor,
Marches to slaughter —
Ruled by a tyrant,
Hell’s own author.
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Fake Life
Rest, corpse, calm! —
The end is here, the final bomb.
To the grave — with worthy tone,
And let the beasts be overthrown.
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Not just ***** and wild affairs —
They call it "Olympus" there.
Also "royal" salted fish...
Stuck deep in the "kingdom’s" dish...
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Autumn leaves are swirling round...
On air, a ceaseless stonefall sound:
Lies pour down on heads like rain...
Live soul, don’t touch the box of pain!
There lies like steel or hardened stone,
Strong enough to crush the bone—
It drives out reason, leaves the dead,
The madness of attacks widespread.
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So-Called “Advanced Yoga”
Relaxation,
Realization —
Buzzwords in a toxic blend.
Fraud and fear and fake salvation,
Laziness that has no end.
But awareness of damnation
Is a thing they never teach.
“Give us bliss!” — the blind ovation
From the herd that tyrants preach.
Face your Hell before you’re burning,
If there’s fire left in your soul.
Wake the f* up! Truth is churning —
Not some dream of being “whole.”
