Dear Misha Collins,
Thank you for being the angel in a trench coat

The one in love with Dean Winchester

Who happens to be the one I see myself in

As well as you and always will for all of time

Thank you for being one of the reasons I will "ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING"

The elevator opened on the 46th floor, to a small foyer and one plain, grey door

The door opened and a young girl, 10ish, in a blue, polo, tennis dress, said, “Hi! I’m Karen, you must be Anais. Will is around here somewhere. Aren’t you pretty, though? You go to school with Lisa? No wonder Will likes you.”

She skippingly ushered me from a bright, windowed, off-white, staircase entryway, into a deep-red, mahogany paneled library. A persian cat was soon underfoot, purring and winding around my legs.”That’s Misha,” Karen said, “just shoo her away if you don’t like cats.”

I stooped down to pet Misha who eagerly offered herself to be petted and admired. As I stroked her charcoal fur, Karen said, “Let me get Will,” as she scampered off.

A gold framed, impressionistic painting, pin-lit in bright crystalline light, hung over a fireplace. In the painting, two girls, in summer hats bright with startling red bows and yellow flowers, were sharing a book. The colors were rich, deep and swirling - it looked very much like a Renoir (I know my French artists). He’d done a whole “two girls” series. I drew closer - it wasn’t a print.

Though dazed by the opulence, I hadn’t missed what Karen had said. Will liked me. I longed to interrogate her about how exactly she knew Will liked me, and what form, exactly, Will’s liking took.

I know Will and Lisa (who would be joining us in a minute) are just friends. Not that it matters, we’re heading back to New Haven later - but Karen’s statements were capable of activating a girl's guy-dar.

Karen, wearing socks but no shoes, came to a sliding halt, on the wooden floor, by grabbing the door frame to stop an otherwise complete slide into the library. “You guys are going to the Ritz for lunch?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, in a way that indicated that she knew the answer quite well.

The Ritz Carlton is a block away and our mission was to grab the food and bring it back here to eat. “Mind if I join?” she said, before I could answer her first question, all wide-eyed, blinking impatience.

“I don’t mind at ALL.” I said, Karen whooped and was off again down the hall. “I’M COMING TOO!” she yelled. I chuckled, knowingly - I’ve been there - I’m a little sister too.

Roses are Red, Blood is too.
You're my best friend, but I hate you.
Best means nothing.
Friend means less.
Yet without you,
Truth?
I'm a mess.

Said what I said *** I give a ****
which is more than you get from the crowd you hang with.

Ricky and Dustin and tall hot blonde kid,
Misha, and Matt..
**** all of them!

Better yet, don't!
They don't deserve you.
I know you don't believe it,
but its true.

You're incredible, as I've said before.
Start believe that.
Stop being a *****.
Who is this girl?
You could be so much more!

You want to be wanted?
That's what you want for yourself?
What about success, dreams,
and maybe good health.

If I could give everything I have,
I would.
If that meant you were happy
and would smile like you should.

I would die for you.
Why don't you understand that?!
You're the best friend that I've ever had!

Delete my number.
Do you think I meant that?
I felt like such **** that's the response that I had!
And you can forget me and go get a tatt?
While I'm in tears over a fight that we had!

You get drunk and say you hate your life.
Yet continue to do it every night.
and I'm willing to drive there to be there for you
because that's what a ******* best friend would do!

And no matter what, I'll always be here for you.
And if you walk away,
I'll be here, too.

Violets are blue,
and that's how I'm feeling.
If you're at this point,
I guess thanks for reading.

This is my cry,
my reach out to you.
Cuz the way I love you girl,
a text wouldn't do.

Best means nothing,
friend means less.
But sisters are until the ******* end.

I don't care if you hate me or if I hate you.
I don't care if sometimes we have a fight or two.

The fact is, there's nothing that I can do
to even begin to explain to you
how much I want to make amends
try to improve and just stay friends.

You don't have to acknowledge me.
Delete me from your life,
all over some stupid ****** strife.

But I couldn't stay awake for one more night
thinking about it,
pretending everything was alright.

Let me know one way or the other.
Let's not give up on one another.

With everything that we've been through,
I don't want to stop being a we with you.

You're my best friend,
my sister,
my wife.

You're my tree,
my twin,
my kiss at midnight.

You're such an immense part of my life.
Eliminate you at this point?
Yeah right!

So roses are red, and blood is too.
We're at war,
yet I'm on the frontline for you.
Fighting for everything we've been through
and I'm not giving up.
**That's what best friends do.

Don’t tell me you’ve never had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch a baby
I want to stir up a young child’s fantasy right now so swell
up in my heart this overwrought emotion
to see a little Ivory or Avery running around
matching up Velcro smiley faces with his current disposition
and not have to call mother and home and tell her how naughty he’s been.
Hopefully she cares,
I sure would.

Baby Misha, I’d call her.
and we’d stroll down the banks of the river
the nearest river we’d stroll.
I love you so much
and not just because Nature forces me to.
Nature forces women to have babies
but I still want to
produce.

The ultimate work of art, I’d joke.
The penultimate prize,
my arrow I’d shoot out of my womb
and let it fly, unencumbered by my wants and wonts.
Ha ha, that’s so funny.
I’d nurture the hell right out of my child.
No phone! No i-phone! No phone until seventh grade.
But mama, she’d say.

But mama,
But mama,
But mama,
But what?
You are better off.
You’ll understand when you’re a mother,
and that’s me functioning with the assumption
that baby Misha wants to be a mother.
She’ll feel the same things I’ll feel because we have the same blood
maybe not the same blood type,
she may be positive, I may be negative
but one day we’ll dance like my mother and I danced
and I’ll cry like my mother cries and say
I’ll miss you but I want you to be free.

But mama.
But what?

i sit in my room, staring at the wall.
photographs of all shapes and sizes
and colors form an intricate and
irresistable road map for my eyes.
they scan and scrutinize the wall;
each picture draws a colorful and
fragmented memory--
the top of the ferris wheel at six
flags with the ernie to my bert,
sticky and hot, but so happy;
driving through the neighborhoods
while bass-pounding mirror-wriggling
music assaulted our ears and the hot
summer wind whistled through us;
that aching, all-consuming grin i
just could not erase after misha let
me sing a verse with him;
over a decade of confusion and
consternation about a god who
always seemed to be too busy to
answer the sincerest prayers of
a naive and innocent child;
the heart-startling jolt of
awakening to screams and cries
for countless miserable mornings;
the bitter tears spilled so often at the
realization that assuming the best
of others often leads to nasty scars.

the pictures are tacked to the wall,
an exotic map of my adolescence.
the items overlap and intertwine,
they are all connected and dependent.

There used to be an angel in a trench coat

His name was Castiel Novak

He was in his words "AN ANGEL OF THE LORD"

He's the reason I will "ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING"

He's played by the actor Misha Collins

Who besides Misha saved my life

Because of that I'll be forever grateful that I found Supernatural

That angel in a trench coat is also an angel with a shotgun filed with salt

That is who CASTIEL NOVAK is

Fashion is a female-fueled business. Many glossies have mastheads filled with women; there are tons of female designers; public relations, a key cog in the fashion-industry machine, is two-thirds women. Yet gender inequality is still a legitimate issue in the field — very few European design houses arehelmed by female talent, and women have only recently begun to catch up in terms of top-level executive roles at places like LVMH.

We’re still a ways off from having gender parity in the most influential roles in fashion, not to mention equal pay, and better parental leave policies. But there are some advantages to being a female designer — an innate understanding of the female body and what women truly want to wear, for starters. In honor of International Women’s Day on March 8, shopping app Spring gathered 33 of its female-led brands — including some of our favorite forward-thinking names in the biz — for a campaign called #SpringStories. The original shoot, lensed by Diego Uchitel, explores dozens of designers’ experiences in (and contributions to) the fashion industry.

As part of #SpringStories, users on the e-tailer’s app will be able to “swipe” to donate to I Am That Girl, a charity that aims to “help girls establish physical, emotional, and mental well-being and transform self-doubt into self-love by providing a safe space to have honest conversations about things that matter,” according to the organization’s site. Spring will then match all contributions to the charity.

A handful of the app’s featured designers shared with Refinery29 the ongoing challenges they face as women in the fashion industry, as well as the highlights of getting to design for other women.

Getting the necessary capital to put out collection after collection is tougher for female talents, according to Laura Cramer, cofounder of Apiece Apart. "To build a grounded business poised for growth, you either need to raise money or have deep pockets. The uphill battle for women raising money is much steeper, particularly if you look at data around VC funding, where women-led companies get less than 5%," Cramer says. "Early in our pitching days, I was pregnant and would watch eyes fall to my enlarging belly as we described our road map to success. A man will never know the feeling of people calculating your age, your marital status, and your child-bearing readiness."

And once funding has been achieved, some designers feel a lack of support between women in the industry. “I think a lot of women don't support each other in the ways they should, and it always blows my mind that support and love isn't people's default setting all of the time," says Aurora James of Brother Vellies. "There are a lot of women in this industry, and there is enough success for all of [us]."

Camaraderie is important, certainly, but it's necessary to have women installed in powerful, well-financed creative director roles at the biggest fashion conglomerates to truly work toward having equal opportunities in the industry. "There are many female designers, but not in the top tiers of fashion," says Becca McCharen of Chromat. "The brands backed by companies like LVMH and Kering are predominantly run and owned by men."

Women are especially adept at "designing for changing bodies, with curves, and incredibly diverse days," Cramer explains. Yet there's a (albeit, generalized) contrast in what drives designers' ideas, according to Tanya Taylor: "Men design for desire and women design for purpose," she says. "The biggest challenge is how you make purpose desirable."

Though there certainly are ways to make clothing that elicits desire without being overtly ****. "Becca [McCharen] from Chromat — she has an incredible understanding of the female body in all of its many incarnations and she designs for that; she basically builds scaffolding for the body," James raves. "She supports women both ideologically and literally. It's lingerie, but it's not about *** — show me a man who has done anything like that."

#SpringStories' eclectic roster also includes labels like Negative Underwear, Misha Nonoo, Marcia Patmos, Rebecca Minkoff, Outdoor Voices, and Eileen Fisher.See more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

and what a difference a clock brings, two clock stand
on a shelf already, both of them with dead batteries -
a third is brought in, and it ticks,
and it Tokajs - and up rise the zemplén
mountains where Attila was laid to rest...
and after a night of drinking -
the ticking clock gives out an energy:
that makes you wake up early,
the alarm is set 15 minutes prior noon,
but you wake up earlier than that:
a nervous energy surrounds the clock
like a bomb, you actually are the bomb,
going off early - otherwise?
what Sartre said about 3 p.m., that
the day is laid to rest by that time,
and if ever from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. in
the land of Noddy you dreamt a void
of pristine calm, then after 3 p.m.
the t.n.t. in you is wet, and there's no
spark, the ultimate existential angst -
as with any synthetic approach of creating
sleep, you are sometimes powerless to
the cure, hardly any analysis of the day's
dignified toils, in biblical jargon:
to live by the sweat of the brow -
some would claim this to be an aristocratic
pastoral - and it could very well be:
a decadent with a ***** room with whips
and handcuffs - but also a decadent with
a personal library... who would have thought
the two are so akin, even with their
seismic polarity. so on a day like this,
two coffees in, four cigarettes later,
a minor literary feat, as ever a poem -
with an approach of: get me out of these
straitjackets of conformity, according
to genres and proven techniques akin to
the sigma opus (or, oeuvre) of an Agatha
Christie... or as fellow men said: eat, ****, repeat...
the true art: how to find the eye of the storm,
the centre, away from the pulverising
strobe lighting of this realm: find me a straight
line off this ****** roundabout - if to infinity
then all the better: away from the re re re re
of res (the repetition of a thing) - be is summer,
be it spring, and the countless admirers of
such idle pursuits as said: shall i compare you
to a summer's day blah blah -
or start stiff, a corpse stiff in writing: mere
warm-up - then loosen the joints (conjunctions
prepositions et al.) and let us butter those
nouns - and change a few nouns into verbs
as already stated - a real ******* moment in
writing: haphazard here, unexplained mutations
here... let us return the same frenzied favour
that this hellish carousel imposed on us;
and as ever, a day that begins prior to 3 p.m.
will usually yield a daylight poem,
the sun is to bright, a vampire like myself
cannot stand the seemingly ultra-violet tinge
to things: a real phosphorescent sheen to all
things oily, whether my lipid skin, or the aloe
of leaves - then to the massive stumbling
block of the dictionary and all principles of
a priori entitled with that fiendish book -
as with every mind: algorithms never provide
the answers, if you haven't already experienced
the word said, by someone else.
so with a day prior to 3 p.m., you wake and wait
till the "natural crumbs in eyes after sleeping"
(rheum) dissolves - the radio is turned on,
the empty bottle of coca cola is ****** into and
the waiting for the alarm to ring - but it doesn't,
you're up already, and take up dietary reading
snippets of ivan bunin's memoir about
the civil war in Russia: cursed day (some could
say, one of the most enduring books concerned
with pleasurable reading while lying in bed,
flat out) - and this poem? all because of the
following snippet from a narrative:
            the Odessa Alarm is requesting information
about the fate of these missing people:
     Valya Zloy (zloi, i.e. evil, alter. in polish?
        zło, alter. in ~english? "zwo'h");
   Misha Mrachny (mrachnyi, i.e. gloomy, alter.
in polish? mroczny, alter in ~english?
             a dried out y, a hollowed out y,
                                   cz via ch, dependent
    of the exclusiveness of independent elocution);
  Furmanchika (furman, i.e. driver...
              an etymological mirror -
           a driver who transports goods using
    a horse and carriage, this is 1918, after all);
  Muravchika (muravei, i.e. ant, alter. in polish?
   mruwka - orthography as rigid aesthetics?
welcome to the army son... but it's actually mrówka,
    i call it personal preferences sometimes,
  not necessary rules, there's no limit to this anarchism,
and there's also another word: murawa (thick grass,
akin to earth, and ants burrowing) -
but you don't see ó at the beginning there, do you?
  the aesthete says: further in, mostly when
   congested with consonants, the alter. to what
the Chinese call: the great wall - or defence against
Mongolian invaders: doubled up with ideograms
that put the Egyptian ideograms to shame,
   is that necessary classification? owl pigeon palm,
less skeletal, then necessarily not ideograms:
hieroglyphics: it gets funnier when phonetic approximates
come across meaning approximates,
   you get ~etymological something or other,
e.g. mirror, you hear shouting: misnomer!
          and you're like: well, you have surd lettering
   and i have ~thedesiredword, so ~exact -
nonetheless, intricacies of a polymer with a benzene
ring at some point.
               i was lying though: this poem actually
came from a very English peculiarity -
name the word aunt, and how i'm sometimes
tongue tied on it: not ant when the English say
auntie - i.e. antee - or how the tongue is less
tied to a Sisyphus stone with the word augment:
so i guess i have to practice augmenting
the word aunt - so it sounds similarly good as
auntie - and that's the prickly feeling there,
a syringe on the tongue and less of a tongue-tie
but more a tongue-numbing - liked to a dentist's
request: open wide and say ah - not a - ah -
                     ah choo!               and many chopstick
dances later: the sound of pain, a shortened version
of aww (which is intended for babies and puppies,
but not all things small) - as in cute -
thus this au grapheme (no Latin variation akin to
æ or œ) - which is acute in comparison to
the two examples çited - ash and eðel / eθel -
                meaningful enough to drop a unit from
the couplet - as the English already do,
                            as explained already - ouch -
and many more theories can be revelled in -
   when looking for handwriting smoothness
of wave weaving stylistics - given now the hand
no longer writes, but the digits dent in grooves onto
    a much smoother surface (in terms of fluidity).

The arms of a little girl are welcoming to the ones she loves. Gently, she reaches up, and innocently wraps them around the object of her affection, perhaps a grandmother, or an uncle only seen once a year.

Returning the affection, the family member will gently pat her head, or offer a kind word.

“Why do you hug like that? You’re doing it wrong and it’s weird. Here, let me show you how to do it.”

Someone else swoops out of the shadows to hug her. It is a sterile and cold touch. One that makes her shy away, not understanding what is happening.

She looks at me and I see her discomfort, but am unable to do anything for her. The shadow leaves long after I do, and she slinks away to find someone better.

But the scent of fear still lingers in the air, soft enough for her acute senses to pick up on it. She looks for the source, but only sees me. I avert my gaze from hers, but still understand what she says.

Why are you a stranger to me if I’ve known you all my life?

You see, if my hands have been anywhere near your neck, I’ve probably thought about how easy it would be to **** you. That’s why I’ve been trained to never offer hugs.

It has nothing to do with you, I just have really bad intrusive thoughts sometimes.

She looks at me, and lifts her upper lip, showing her teeth, glistening white with fresh strings of saliva.

And now is the time I choose to make eye contact. Her eyes are a curious colour, one only heard of in the most bone chilling of myths. I half expect them to freeze me solid, but instead their empty stare speaks to me, saying:

I am not a part of this reality.

I am not a part of this reality.

I am not a part of this reality.

Someone come take me away.

The landlord told us never to go on the roof.
We take to borrowing others, tiptoes clanging on steel and iron
My knees rubbing gravel and asphalt.
We finish the wine and **** three stories up.

Most days we sit curled on broken patio chairs
Cigarette to split
No, I want my own.
Unspoken fourth neighbor snoresputtercoughsnortsneezes from the corner.
*******, Chaz.
We didn't come, by pick up truck and bicycle, to live above crackheads again.
I could smell it, those May mornings.
Misha, always sick, he said.
He was.

You were always the Junction.
Where
drunken promises
sober **** ups
idle hope
came and met ****** up ugly only to straighten out again.
Destined Final Resting Place of my last drops of liquor.
In a way it could never amount to more than that.
A wasteland we did nothing but lay waste to.

Avery taught me how to french inhale sitting on the hood of her 74' Ford something or other.
Fishnets Valu Village miniskirt, lakeside cold
Her zippo lighter roman candle flash bright.

Didn't I steal that?
Didn't I, one winter darkened morning, rifle through your jeans for TTC fare and a fiver for an Egg McMuffin?

Who can remember.

And as for you, I say, I am, "she says, because
her mother was her and many things are a great
reward, is it life? The aluminum foil should
be ready. Giving the opportunity to finish,
Why do young people hit?
Children who play at obesity are the victims.
Or in your mouth ... how many? No, Miza,
Guam ha-ha, Wada Bounty - and more hours of use
Write the article 'b'; Edward, when you are a living room,
The fans of R. Uha today are not the movies of Karodos
de Almamima Uruk -
It's funny, if you call, it's funny.
Now he has the rest of the responsibility,
the discount is made,
500 Bacimium Idar, Akri Nala from Beef
Muha: ... I'm the beast? Boy? I say,
the prize was won and many people, much food
and volcanic mountains were caught:
In special aluminum foil.
Opportunities that they know,
Cost of the accused
     Size of the *****
... that is the mouth With the Milka Whole
and the Advertising Award, you have to go
down to the manufacturer's price.
The taste of Israel's seafood;
Aluminum Fuel Nut, Aluminum Australia -
Give her a drop of water
Compared with health, Kahan Kadhi links
the sixth abuse with Tahhhh -
La Hana, rarely,does my daughter uses the cow
in the chest, Is there a lot of noise here
that is not that big? Below you I am close, that is,
"What are you doing to me?" I do not know where
you are now but they have a lot, but what is it?
The aluminum foil should be ready.
And do not get mad, Cara.
How can I know if I am going to meet my son?
The words "Langsa" and "Mote Pap Channels".
The mood is ... No, M-japa Akha, Goh, business
managers - Donate Katna de Daga; Saddam lives
in Adani Transgeres:
Alegre Uri Amalia Pan - Fula Karanta A novel: Swimming Hills -
The life of Oh! Hai Jahid Bones,
Tool Opening Book
Give me a drink, I'll give you a scalp, & Moody Knuckles,
let me tell you the truth.
Mu, Khada Hai: ... important museum on Planet Gaynor;
I do not know anything, I have a lot of time in my life
and I do not know what I saw.
Sun and weather; Opportunities Who is
Because of the trauma!
Ka Ling Aakar ... is this month? Mike was more
often, Vedas parsekar - leader Munir, the lie
I am delighted with the content of this city.
What is the news of Almeida Austrelia food candy?
Bless the world In the rays of the girl,
the goddess of persecution's persecution.
If you cannot get old, old and good with a pen,
I have a question ... I do not know what you're doing?
The teacher of his teacher and leader, Dilhi Hai Kahne,
is a Yusky man, that is, outside of Bose, and what life is like.
Elyomenieniam gave a basic singing song.
Find the poor snow And whisper with the screams
of the wonderful Gateton family cone?
Easter and a cup of cake.
Tetanus ... do you like it? Nihin, Mizapa, Gauhaha,
Fiber Intersections - Aur Multilit Kuchu Ghant                   Kai Hai Upgag
JiaDa unoch hed khah; Eid worr night that the owner
of the price of yarn by the matter
Aarah Uhah 5 Source Sanki Alamini Stanad
Taraa Karadas nun - Kee Jeeva also known as
Muk Saikai Bahai Bah Jai Hai,
The favorite of Tallon; The "day of the air jagir"
Dee Bachir Eder by Akerie Dans Bifafe
My Khada Hai: ... Kya maav hlavo hoo? Gayon;
The main hand, Kata, Anakhi Man Lol
or a great praskar, gold ki anhi bhi gay pakade gay, child aaa.
Jismma is a sheet of diagnosed child elyoomeeniyam
Exposition; Kaun Hain Janat;
Logite Star!                                                        Ka Ling Aakbar
Lamb ... where does Munah come from?
Mikea Akhaga Ka Karayog Sounds, Vedic Award - The Mugh-he Producer Kemat in Jana,
A far country to the north of the island.
Deseo and Kardari Almana Austria -
Let's make a hole in the pan.
By coincidence with Chath's Gallery of the child's marriage,
a child was born.               So, the joy of comedy,
VKK Ek Hain Baad Sawaz KiKee Yahan Hai ...
But you're not out Nahin Nikhlen? Under the leader
Ayaa Krib Bahat Dil, Hai Kya "What determines Jahan?
You are your father, Nahin Kahan Goff,
but have you overcome the Kuch Hai, Likan, Kya Hain"?
Elyomenieniam gave a basis for singing the song.
Carl's Gas Delay: Mohi Kais Patna Chalga Kya Director
Apana Bachar Jaan Paongi Ko;
Shabd "Langsties" Gold "Motepe Ka General"
Dihei announced Hamam.
Emotions of the child, not ... hai, mijap akhsa, goeh,
on a salary crusade - Ek ki Danat ketana ki hai awagya1
Additional partner in the maritime sector.
Inay-eha Panap Amanti School - Less tragedies are Nances -
Jeeve is an open mouth, Yehad Hai! Hai! Hai!
General Colhana Ka Upkaran
Mugi Ball, Maavish Mana Ku and Meghan Satikoda,
the main language of the small banana
Hai Mu Khadr: ... Meja Museum. Gaynor;
Main label: Simple Drive, Simple Spirit Movement for both games.
Incense and climate,
Exposition; Kaun Hain
Logite Digby Key!
Ka Ling Aakhar
Maheena, Kya Hai ...; Mik Agga Bhaag, Vedic Paraskar - Chief of Services, Ek Ek Tha Zuth!

II
And you say I have a lot of things.
Life insurance should cover the pages
of Cooking Capacity
Why do you want to laugh at young people?
With children sprinkled with oil
... or what's left? We expect ...
Guam is the current mark, cobosex and other watches.
Edward's articles, if you are in the room;
And the Lock'ed Lock movie today
is Barry Boston in Almighty;
If you go, it's fun. More responsibility,
Buying the Sittamer Eder 500
Metal: ... and can I break it? I say it
He's got a lot of people;
They face the valley of the river.
Special aluminum film
Opportunities for you
Incorrect value:
Size of volume
... this is bone, bone!
Advertising programs you should get.
Physical value
Bahrain; #b   Aluminum, Fuel Fuel for Australia -
Give him water, But how did he protect?
Sixth Action Plan
Lana, my daughter sometimes uses this dress.
Make sure your goal is holy
Why so many people? My part is close, that is
"What do you want with me?" I do not know how!
At the same time, I do not know, not so, but what?
Aluminum film
They don't think about ***.
How does my son give a son?
The words "langisam" and "mateppa channel"
This ... 1000 Jeep Jip is not limited to business
Dan Dan Salad
Connected keys:
Terms Charlotte - Oshiki, new Sunday:
Real life, our message is Tony.
libraries
Take there
IM telling you the truth
Muin, the museum Hojar-Museum ... Main branch of the earth;
I live a long time
And I do not know what it was.
What sun and time do you choose?
damage
What kind of woman? More Mike, like
Most leaders of the Vedic church,
I agree with the contents of this city.
What does the Latin Encyclopedia for Australia mean?
Woman will survive the world
friendship
If you are old, this is not good;
I have a question ... I do not know what you are doing
Teachers, leaders and teachers;
This is a young man who travels every day in his life.
He says this is a song
Clear color from color and color of flowers.
Does Gates House look beautiful?
Easter and cups;                Now the farm ... now? Yes, I am a *****;
I'm at the police station at the police station and top gug in freedom,
Copy copy; The rest of these days care about
where the Lord cares about us. Price range in unit:
Alkhan Manba Uta Sosey Almin Kog
Vitamin E is also known as bacteria.
There is a problem here
Register for a full day of aircraft
Boris Beck, Eddie Blake
Bobo is a good site, but ...;
Its main crop is shown
Common sense, is gold and gold, sons of AA
Aluminum was a child
Burton Cuffman; Han Quan Yant;
Yes Yes! League league
Where can this be removed?
Mishra Mike Aksen - Wedding Brochures - Month and Model Yakuba
north                                       Germany and Austria worked ten days -
The wall is located behind the wall.
Always have a wedding gallery
He was born, as all sinners were born.
VC. CIS experts; But does this not apply to Nosira? commander
God is the King of the world, who is "Who and when?"
Because you are our father, you are Nachin Kan Heche, Ludwig;
Luke nothing else?
Elo Single Lottery
Oil crown, karna patna head
Forestry with forest growing.
"Falcon", He went to the doctor
Nobody today, ..., eyes, eyes,
Guest house 1 Another member of the boat
Head of secondary school - Such risks -
If I am, then the creature is open! Women women
All colonies of Misha Bal and Masha Sat, Malva and Kai,
The main language of the revolution is language.
He lives in the Museum of Secrets in 1000;
Original words are simple, simple or free. plants; Burton Cuffman; Besides,
Digby manages key management system management!
Recent projects
Need to say
Vedic Parsicar - Manager Seva: Best Australian Tuscany Kididit, Marie Kole Barry Tabik Kazi Khan
Warning notice Air available for harvest
Third yoga                                                             ­            ṁawgaujṁṁṁṁ ṁ
KARABHI TOCHKHI PIITSH BARCIA KHALSA HARA
... if there are a few cents, we make mistakes
Guma Cola Heiko, CoboSecution in Horse Haha
Araki Lalk "B"; Come on, come on;
Happy loans movies
Alal Red Bar ṭasaṭa Rhesus -
And when do you do it
Semikharurim Char 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500
mēṭala: ... How can I do this? Yaya
We love it
Ana No Pao and Papa Baba Lia
Vishner Aluminum Film
the gifts
mm
Idylli
... Rari is green; Vijipan Progogar Atul Tahanu
Leimi Simurat Pahukar Kahida High Separated Physical m Bahirina; ṭsaṭrēlī'āalī alamīnī'ām, from there -
Yusanu Panani Daka Hika Dao
Money Agent Keenan Naha Ahah Nav Kav Kawaii?
Cha-cha Paan Network
Lana, & Mary b

His lover was as old as a pirate's grave,
she loved his soft hands like a time machine
bringing her back to her father's workshop
where he made dolls so lifelike
he often found his apprentices
w/ red lip-paint smeared
across their faces; he deduced they were making love to the doll
& feeling remorse that the doll was only the size of an infant---
his apprentices ***** immigrants;
eager Rabbinical students of Talmud & comic book)
who'd jumped ship into the harbor
to swim to the American shore
where immigrants, slaves,
****** & saints had landed before,
so he designed another doll; this one much larger,
a full five-foot-six in fact
& deliberately left it out unwrapped
on xmas eve:
His brother Sidney having front-seat tickets
to a Lenny Bruce show in the Poconos
invited the family
to get away from the snow---& off they went
to Yiddish Paradise; feasting on the luxuries
of the New World
(if only Misha
had gotten out
of the Old Country, holding her back w/ its vampyrs,
werwolves & Nazis---
xmas coming & going year after year getting colder,
the world no wiser;
father's long line of apprentices growing old & dying---
her mother passing of cancer;
father so old & lonely staying in the doll-shop
night after night as she too grew older,
becoming a star in Burlesque  
& 2nd Avenue melodramas;
She dated Sholem Alecheim when he was much younger,
but now centuries later she holds Robert's hand;
so soft, so much younger than she that it often seems
Robert is growing younger
every year as she imagines she is just a doll left out on xmas eve,
one day peed on by the cat & discarded---

'Earth is a planet where the universally rare specimen of female being has reached the ultimate perfection of form & function. - observation made by
a passing astrobiologist; I talk a lot about life insurance, pages,
Why do you want to laugh?
What is oil or what? We believe
Guam is an existing sign, cobo-sax and other watches.
Edward's article, if you are in a room;
Barry Dawson in Lock-a-Lock Almaty today
If you go, it's fun. Buy Cedimies Fans 500 Mattel: ... can it break?
I will call it. He has a lot of people.
They stand in the valleys of the river
Special aluminum film Your parameters are incorrect
Advertising plans for bone size
Aluminum and fuel in Australia -
Give her some water. Plan your sixth project
Take it, sometimes my daughter uses cloth.
Make sure your goal is clear.
Why so many people? This is my closest neighborhood.
"What should I do?" I do not know how
But I do not know, but why?
Aluminum film
How does my son give birth to a son?
"Lanzim" and "Chanel Metaphysics"
                     This 1000 GP industry:
Dan Tan Salat Related Keys:
Words of Charlotte - Oshik, New Sunday:
In real life, our message is Tony.
I'm talking about the ruins of Gog ... the main branch of the Earth;
I live a long time. I do not know what is this
What is the sun? Another loser is Mike?
Most leaders of the Vedic church
I'm not sure you're old, this is not right;
I have a question ... I do not know what you are doing
Teachers, leaders and teachers;
This is a young man who travels
This is a beautiful song and a cup of Easter gates.
Now do it ... yes, I am a *******;
I am at the police station and the police station
Copy copy; At the time of Gog Alta Ota Sasami, vitamin E is called bacteria.
Here is the problem of Boris Beck, Eddie Black
Bobo is a good site, but ...;
Its main crop is shown
Aluminum is the clothing of the boy Burton; Han Guan Yant;
Yes Yes! Where can I go to the league? Miss Asan - Wedding Books - Months and Models Yaguava
North Germany and Austria worked ten days -
Wall to wall There is always a wedding package
When all sinners are born
CIS expert But is this not Noble? governor
When he?
Because you are our father, you have ken, LDVig
Nothing more. Today's weight, lecture to make a chair. Forest for forest development.
"Falcon", he went to the doctor
Nobody today, ..., eyes, eyes,
Guest House 1bot is another member
High school president such a threat
If I am alive, then the soul will open! Girl girls
All colonies Misha Bell and Shong, Malva and K.,
Language revolution;
Original words are simple, simple or free. plants; Burton clothes; In addition, manage your best control system with Digby!
Australian children are not visible in their composition.
Hi Hara, Fati's Taxi Fach Fight
... if there are centers, then we are wrong
Kumar Koala Hiku, Kobe's horse wins haha
Island "P"; Continue; The film is his merit.
Red red red - when you do it
Simar Khurim 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500 500
Marla: How can I do this? as
We don't like Anna Baba and Papa Baba
Aluminum film Vishnu
M.M. Green Wire Vijayan Progressive Adal Tal Lim Byrne; Isilalal Alaminim, for this - who can say water I talk a lot about life insurance countries
Why do you want to laugh?
What is oil or what? My believe
Guam is an existing sign, cobosax and other watches.
Edward's article, yes, and you are in the room;
Barry Dawson in the movie Lock Lock Almaty today
Yes you go, it's fun. Buy Cedimies Fans 500 Mattel: ... can it break? I will call it. He has a lot of people.
They stand in the valleys of the river
Special aluminum film Your parameters Nevera
Advertising plans for bone size
Aluminum and fuel in Australia -
Day you some water. Plan your sixth project
Take it when my daughter uses fabric.
Make sure your goal is clear.
Why so many people? This is my closest neighborhood.
"What should you do?" I do not know how
No, I do not know, not why?
Aluminum film
How does my son give birth to a son?
"Lanzimm" and "Chanel Metap"
This is 1000 GP industry
Dan Tan Salat Related Keys:
Words of Charlotte - Oshik, New Sunday:
In real life, our message is Tony.
I speak of the ruins of Gog ... the Main Branch of the Earth;
I live a long time. I do not know what is this
What is the sun? Another loser is Mike?
Most leaders of the Vedic church
I'm not sure that you are a star, this is not right;
I have a question ... I do not know what you are doing
Teachers, leaders and teachers;
This is a young man who travels
This is a beautiful song and a cup of Easter gates.
Teper 'sdelay is ... yes, I am a *******;
I am at the police station and the police station
Copy copy; During Gogh Alta Ota Sasami, Vitamin E is called bacteria.
Here is the problem of Boris Beck, Eddie Black
Bobo is a good site, no ...;
Its main crop is shown
Aluminum is the clothing of the boy Burton; Han Guan Yant;
Yes Yes! Where can I go to the league? Miss Asan - Wedding Books - Months and Models Yaguava
Northern Germany and Austria worked during the day -
Wall to wall There is always a wedding package
When all is green

Storms and Dreams

I love the storm in heated Fall —
So much for "warming's" final call!
If you are sharp, awake, aware,
You’ll trash the BEASTS and all their glare.

The cows all ****, the plants all choke —
This world’s a gas-infested joke.
But if your mind is clear, not blind,
You’ll cut through dogma’s ties that bind.

You’ll see the Sun grow bold and bright,
Preparing for a searing rite —
To scorch all lies down to the bone
And burn this False World to the stone.

Yet if the Spiritual Man
Were not so rare, but led the clan,
He’d stand for Nature like a king,
And even calm the solar swing.

The Earth has called — the Sun replied,
Its blazing message cannot hide.
But why must all be turned to ash?
Let’s smash the LIES, not Earth, in clash.

That rot has poisoned field and sea,
And humans crawl like blight on tree.
While anti-humans rule the hive,
The Earth will cleanse — none left alive.



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



Two-Legged Sheep

A sheep is bred for Doom and Death,
For cultured Ends, for Final Breath.
A brand-new type, by fate designed —
Its brain near-pulp, its soul declined.

The Ramnavirus made it plain:
This world has lost its twitching brain.
They’re building camps across the sphere
For all whose minds are still sincere.

If you're not sick — prepare to die.
They'll craft a CowID to try
Outdoing past and future Hell —
Death dressed in white — a doc as well.

He stabs you with a poison lie
While Evil’s howling from the sky.
And fools — they cheer, believe the swine.
But now the fool's an old design:

The "sheepman" is the brand-new freak —
Submissive, blind, corrupt, and weak.
Will higher powers watch this farce?
This mad world worships Satan's ****.

Yes, he’s the god now, drenched in slime,
Ruling this age of filth and crime.
The sheep revolt? No — not a chance.
So let’s just smirk… as MADNESS DANCE.



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




A world of sheep — no soul, no clue.
The doc’s in white — the end comes too.
They cheer the camp, they love the chain.
And Satan smiles… through sheepish brain.



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



Light in the Dark

Gleams of Light —
Not a stream:
Song is sung,
Now comes the Dream...

Storm is rising —
Dark and deep.
Crowds await
Their "happy sleep."

Was the song
For them designed?
What a waste —
The deaf, the blind.

They won't feel it,
Won't awake —
On their knees
For "manna" fake.

Sing your truth
To just a few,
Call them forth
Through twilight blue.

Lead them past
The darkened veil —
Mind won’t grasp
What lights prevail.

Let your inner sense arise —
Light’s flare is a glimpse of skies.



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




The Light won’t flood a world so blind —
It sparks for those who seek and find.



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



The Net and the Zombie Box

Today I watch TV with glee —
This puke connects me to my "free"
And mighty homeland, drunk and dazed,
Still mourning Spirit it erased.

It drank itself into a grave,
Once wise — now proudly soul-depraved.
I’ll watch again — the rot, the trend,
Grows funnier… for poems to bend.

The zombie box? A vile parade —
Yet perfect source for truth displayed.
Hell’s broadcast in its rawest stream:
Each meme’s a monster’s mocking dream.

CowID was a circus act,
Broadcast on loop — no sense, no tact.
One gulp of that and you might drown,
Like minds gone rotten all around.

Just kidding, though — I never stare
At zombie screens. I’m more aware.
Reflections from the sheep online
Are more than enough for every line.



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




TV’s a sewer, spewing lies —
But in the Net, the stench still flies.
The herd repeats it all by rote —
And that’s the "truth" they love to quote.



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



Strangled by Memory, the Mind Must Die

"The most vital knowledge is the art of forgetting the useless."
— Antisthenes, 4th century BCE


Forget the useless! Toss it out!
How much crap they pour about
In youth — with strain and stiff decree —
Straight from Bedlam's ministry.

Memory overload — beware!
It murders thought beyond repair.
They “teach” with tons of reeking trash,
Till minds collapse in one loud crash.

This isn’t chance — it’s by design:
To **** the mind, by slow decline.
They swap your thoughts for toxic streams
And run your life through broken dreams.

The creatures lie — through work, through news.
In Mary's World of Twisted Views,
Deception's fine-tuned to the core —
They fake it better than before.

For ages long, their scheme's the same:
Plant fictions deep — then shift the blame.
The idiot in mental chains
Is easier to lock than brains.

He cannot think — so can’t perceive
The monstrous lies that make him grieve.
But call him “free”? He swells with pride,
While truth is mocked and pushed aside.

Forget the useless — hear your Soul!
It holds the key, the map, the goal.
And if you dare — with mind intact —
You’ll find the path they want you lacked.



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




Forget their junk — reclaim your mind.
The path to truth leaves lies behind.
Think clear — and all their fake design
Falls dead beneath your inner sign.



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



Consumption and Mass “Culture”

Main course, please! Bring out the herring,
Sausage, bacon — load the plate!
Pour some *****, keep it daring —
Drown the country in that state.

Gorge and chug — the proud ambition
Of the masses, dumb and proud.
Hence the chains and the submission —
Everything else gets disavowed.

***, “education,” faith — all twisted
To amuse and numb the brain.
Learn to grab what’s most delicious,
Skip the soul, pursue the gain.

Gobble down those rare sensations,
Shun excess — keep lies intact.
Lying well ensures your station —
It’s the top-consumer’s pact.

Lie with skill — and you’re ascending.
Truth? Just dead weight on the climb.
What you sell means more than meaning —
Emptiness becomes the prime.

Empty heads and zombie stations —
That’s the peak of culture now.
But this Hell of simulations
Won’t deceive us — not somehow.



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




They feed on lies and call it grace —
The mass “culture” is a feeding place.
But those not drunk on screen and plate
Still see through all that crafted fate.



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



So Bored, So Broken...

It’s boring now. It’s grim, it’s dead —
No more themes left to be said.
Worthy souls are rare as air...
Is it time to leave? — Who'd care?

Fools still swarm with base desires:
Breed and binge, then stoke their fires.
All this mess was made for It —
Born to gulp and breed and sit.

Years decay — the sane are few.
Don’t regret what you must do.
To linger here, mid mutant spawn —
Is death by boredom, drawn and drawn.

Worse than Misha’s fate, I’d say.
Our world shrinks more every day.
Trapped in trivia, caught in debt —
Tiny hooks, and tighter net.

The creatures lace us up with fluff,
Their petty lies — a steaming bluff.
Fascists shout from holy spires,
Spewing filth as sacred choirs.

All’s infected. Mind and Soul
Show the rot — a deeper hole.
Not a scratch, but sarcoma’s thread:
No bright years — just walking dead.

The House of Fools is overgrown —
The creatures **** to guard their throne.
War, CowID, and hunger’s call —
The fool obeys — and that's it all.



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




No heroes left, no fight to start —
Just mutants bred with soulless heart.
The fool obeys. The world’s insane.
There’s nothing left... but dirt and pain.



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



Disillusionment

Be disillusioned — crush your fear.
Be done with lies that rule you here.
Cling to nothing — it’s all dust.
Why rot among these masks of rust?

Disillusion — your first stride
Toward the Truth they’ve tried to hide.
Shake off this shameful, clinging crust —
Your mind’s a haze, your thoughts unjust.

Only then you’ll break the chain
That drags your Spirit down in pain
Into the hell where Thought is torn,
Where Soul is mocked, and Fear is born.

Sharpen instinct, strengthen sight,
Let your Spirit lead the fight!
Wage your war on global lies —
It’s not just you that Truth revives.

The root of spell is charm and trance —
A curse that keeps us in a dance
Of dumbing-down and blind retreat
In madhouse worlds made for the meat.

Smash the fascism — or it kills.
Live off-grid, outside their drills.
Man’s no longer free — he’s bought.
A slave no more — just labeled stock.

Need an example? — Muzzled face:
Their fake “plague” laid it all in place.
Where is Honor, Reason, Pride?
Truth is drowned in fascist tide.

So fight and rise — your Soul’s at stake!
Find the wise ones. Bonds to make.
**** this fascist global beast!
Stand for truth — or be deceased.



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




Disillusion — break the chain.
See the spell, reject the brain.
Soul won’t live in fear and lies —
So rise, or rot as Spirit dies.



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



The Dagger

The thirst for Truth, the drive to be,
And longing for true Liberty —
These two foundations, firm and raw,
Define your nature's deepest law.

But one alone will never guide
The flame of talent deep inside.
Without both sight and inner spark,
You’ll stumble, groping in the dark.

For every "giant" of the mind
Needs keen critique, and senses fine —
Let intuition lead your way,
And forge your Self without delay.

Unite the Soul, the Mind, the Will —
A molten blade of sharpened skill.
For only through creative fire
You touch the light that won’t expire.

The Spirit knows no full retreat
When chasing truth through cold defeat.
So seek! Defy! Be bold! Be true —
Only the master breaks right through.

That mastery begins as quest —
A search for paths that free the best.
But intellect, without the Soul,
Will rot, and never reach the goal.

So forge yourself — a dagger bright,
With Spirit core and Reason’s bite.
And strike the Beast, the soulless Thing —
It’s simple. Cut. And end its sting.



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




A soul-forged blade, a sharpened mind —
That’s how the Beast gets left behind.
No lies, no leash, no gilded chain —
Just one clean cut — through mask and brain.



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



Tensions

"The 'I' is built from moments of inner strain.
When those dissolve — the 'I' is gone,
and only true emptiness remains."
— Katsuki Sekida


Release the strain — and you’ll see clear.
Till then, you're just a fool, my dear.
You've crawled through lies with choking breath,
A walking ghost — half-dead to death.

Strain is born where lies reside,
Where fear and murk infest the mind.
That’s how the BEASTS destroy the bright —
Pure thought gets slaughtered in that fight.

But once the clutch of lies is gone,
The grasping ends, illusion’s drawn —
You’re not a lamb led off to die,
But One Who Walks. You ask: “Where? Why?”

Out of Hell — that’s where you go.
EMPTINESS — the path to flow.
Rare it is, like sacred breath —
When you break from herds of death.

Masses dumb, diseased and blind —
If you escaped, don’t look behind.
At first, no god you’ll find in space —
He’s risen far beyond this place.

Strain is ego, clenched and tight —
It births the rot, distorts the Light.
This world of filth and sold-out things
Will fall — it breaks on ego’s wings.

But what of those who break and go?
We’ll see, in time — don’t fear the flow.
Leave this garbage world behind —
Ahead, a Spark begins to shine.

Go within — let that be known:
Your intuition carves the stone.
Let your insight shred and tear
The LIES the creatures plant in there.

Lies in you — yes, more than few.
So clean your soul — let truth break through.
Let EMPTINESS be born inside —
From that, your Self will rise with pride.

Rebirth in Hell — the only way
To tear the iron gates away.
Delay, and you become the swine —
So charge, with fire, through their line!



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




Strain is ego. Drop the weight.
Emptiness will liberate.
In the dark, let soul ignite —
And blast straight through into the Light.



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



An Insured Case

An insured case —
A pension in Ugliness,
Called a country.
Simple as a guess:

A genocide prolonged,
Stretching through the ages.
Yet the “blessed folk” —
Are fools on empty stages.

Easy to rule fools —
Promise what you will.
Happiness far off —
A path forged by a devil.

The devil’s president,
King or other dunce.
A cop controls the media —
Like a hammer’s punch.

That hammer strikes
The mind with brutal force —
Lies nonstop —
The dull believe the source.

To live for truth —
Is sin in Ugliness.
The law — oppress
The mind, the nobleness.

An insured case —
A world decaying fast:
Head sick,
Soon led to slaughter’s past.

CowID revealed
The beast’s dark, snarling face.
If not yet crushed,
End with a swan’s grace.

Close the door with thunder —
That’s the answer to the horror
Of a world beneath the Beast’s sway,
Where darkness holds its law.



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




A world sick, ruled by lies and pain —
The Beast’s grip tightens like a chain.
But slam the door, make silence loud —
Resist the dark, refuse the crowd.



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



Dualistic Thinking

Dualistic thought can’t grasp this world:
It casts a shadow, flags unfurled,
Where sorting lines become a god —
And truth gets chained, suppressed, and flawed.

Cause and effect stand firm as stone,
Yet beasts and **** rule thrones unknown.
Their vision’s black and white, so crude —
What’s unseen simply eludes.

No tool can bring the near or far,
Introspection’s where the answers are:
What’s Soul? What’s Mind? The subtle quest
Beyond the mind’s verbose unrest.

A world of verbal diarrhea,
Its peak — the dullest, darkest idea:
Good and Evil, dual poles,
Where crocodiles outclass the foals.

No cynicism? You won’t survive —
Not sane, if you’re not sharp and live.
Most fools abound; dualism fails,
Though poets reshape words in tales.

Between the words lie gaps of fire,
And passion flows in rhythmic wire.
No words suffice, no joke, no play,
To frame the complex in full display.

But direct Vision knows no words —
Its depths outpace a thousand birds.
Intuition stands your guard,
Reducing lies and falsehoods hard.

Return to roots: the Spirit leads,
The Mind’s but servant to its deeds.
Then mind’s no fractured mosaic —
It fears no storm, no logic break.



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




Dual thought blinds — it cuts in black and white.
But Spirit’s flame reveals the light.
Mind serves Soul — in unity,
Fearless in infinity.



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



The Enemy’s Image

"Don’t retreat, don’t ever yield," —
A battle cry the dull have sealed.
The mindless herd, whose cruel game
Mocks common sense without a shame.

They lead us to the fight, the grind —
But build their prisons in our mind.
The "enemy" is set by them:
A mirror warped, a twisted gem.

They’ll find a dozen traits to blame,
To stain the “us” and fan the flame.
No quirks allowed, no strange dissent —
Division grows, their lies cement.

That propaganda fuels the war,
Painting foes as poor and poor.
Thus beasts rule fools with slight disguise,
Just changing methods, but the lies.



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




The enemy’s a twisted mask —
Designed to serve the tyrant’s task.
Divide and rule — the beasts proclaim,
And fools obey their endless game.



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



Rot from a Fool

Pinocchio crafts his Pinocchietta,
Wood once firm — now dust and fret-a.
They turn a man to lowly beast,
A clinical fool, the dullest least.

Entropy grows with every round,
Decay is nearing, creeping sound.
This world is sick with fatal curse —
Idiot’s plague, but none disperse.

Fools feel better in madhouse halls,
That madhouse — global — where all falls.
And Spirituality lies comatose,
The Spirit’s doomed if mind’s morose.

But all this rot will fuel the fire,
When rot itself becomes much higher.
Papa Carlo, dumb as cork,
Once dared to carve a fool’s fork.



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




From fools comes rot, decay, and dust —
Yet rot can blaze if sparked by trust.
The fool’s own doom, a twisted jest —
Made by the fool who built the rest.



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



Cotton Wool

In Germany’s dark war-time years,
No one was called a filthy fascist here.
But Cotton Wool’s long lost its mind —
Quoting “Mein Kampf,” and Goebbels’ kind,

Twisting words to spread the hate,
A fiery poison, seed of fate.
One half-leader rules the show —
And lies grow bolder as they grow.

Cotton Wool, simply put, is broke —
A fool’s fortress, fascism’s yoke.
Some of them fascists true and raw —
Could teach the Führer’s twisted law.

Yet German folk, more sharp and bright,
Outpaced these fools trapped in their blight.
History’s farce returns again —
The cotton crowd’s enslaved to pain.



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




Cotton Wool’s lost sense and brain —
Spreading hate and fascist stain.
Once proud, now fools who blindly kneel —
To darkness, lies, and iron heel.



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



Reincarnation of the Tachanka

The tachanka’s ghost revives the dread
Of orcs who flee where tanks would tread.
Where armor stalls and battle wanes,
A jeep with guns still holds the lanes.

The Rashist hordes in wild retreat —
Abandoning their broken fleet.
New tachankas bring their doom
To cursed fascism’s hateful gloom.

Makhno fought both Reds and Whites,
For freedom’s cause, his only right.
Ukrainians fight with fearless pride —
Their father’s song flows far and wide.



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




When tanks slow down, the tachanka rides —
Fear sparks in fleeing fascist hides.
Freedom’s fire in every fight —
Ukraine’s sons defend the right.



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



Armageddon Man

Stack your cash, think less each day,
Fortify your burrowed way.
Drink more, crunch your snacks with glee —
To hell with all that’s meant to be.

Forget the vows, the honor, shame,
Forget clear mind, forget the name.
Shed your burden — let “Councils” reign,
“Governments” will bear the pain.

Wipe out burdens, hard and grave...
But when disaster comes to save,
From those “Councils,” wrath will rise —
Sin’s atoned through End’s demise.

The End of History, global stage —
A total, fiery, final rage.
If fool today’s obedient pawn —
Your fate’s the end before the dawn.



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




Drink, ignore, and build your den —
While fools await the end of men.
Armageddon’s burning call —
One fate awaits us all.



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



The Yes-Man and the Patient One

The yes-man’s worn to bitter bone,
While patient ones are rock alone.
Trust in lies pressed hard like gas —
Now chaos rules, no turning back.

Here every madness finds its way,
Where once mere noodles hung to sway.
No sarcasm’s sharp enough
To sketch decline — the **** move rough:

Biobots must be turned to beasts
As fast as possible — no feasts.
Drain the global sludge away,
And pen the herds where they must stay.

No need for people — costly, slow —
Too much fuss, just let them go.
Turn humans into cattle, fiends,
And those who fight — end of scenes.



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




Trust the lies, press hard the gas —
Turn minds to beasts, let reason pass.
Herd the fools, crush those who stand —
This is how they rule the land.



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



Lies

Amidst the lies, it’s hard to find
The grains you need — so rare, so blind.
Without some luck, you dig and dig
Through empty rocks, a barren rig.

Divine intent must guide your way,
Or in the falsehood’s flood you’ll sway.
Half-truths, illusions, veils that bind —
At Judgment’s Day, you’re caught, confined.

Caught by lies — the nets are spread:
Propaganda’s poison thread,
“Science” sold by Judas’ hand,
“Education” built on sand.

Countless lies and wicked breeds,
All entwined in wicked deeds.



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




Lies catch you in a deadly snare,
Truth’s grain is buried deep somewhere.
Without the light to guide your stride,
You’re just the bait the lies provide.



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



Pinocchio as Beast

Time to turn Pinocchio
Into a bio-robot, cruel and low.
Just scare the logs till dumb they fall —
Once half-wits, now idiots all.

The dumbest logs must meet their fate,
While chips go in, to program state.
Pinocchio gave in, trapped and tight,
New Papa Carlo drugs the night.

You’ll become a perfect tool,
Spirit crushed, beneath the rule.
The new fascism’s strong and near —
They’ll march you to the “brave new sphere,”

A camp rebuilt, a hell on earth,
Where beasts command, and break all worth.
Satan’s era soon will reign —
The age of horrors and of pain.

No limit to this idiot’s breed —
“New man” will be the filth, indeed.
So trash them all, the **** and slime —
Remove this blight from Earth in time.

It’s coming — cataclysms sweep,
To purge the filth that lies too deep.
Let these fiends shriek lies in vain —
Darkness falls, no dirt remains.



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




Pinocchio’s lost, a beast in chains,
The new fascism’s fiery reign.
Spirit crushed, the earth will purge —
Lies fall, the darkness will submerge.



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



Kremlin Fascism

Fascism plus fools — a force so vast.
But when **** loots the dumb and last,
Putler’s no ****** — strength’s not there
To bring the world its fatal snare.

That Kremlin clone, all rotten minds —
A stench that flows through darkened times.
Come down, you ****, off Kremlin’s throne,
Your masters fall — left to bemoan.

Genocide may run its course,
But fools are trash without the source.
Fascism needs a steady plan,
Or all their schemes will fall, and

Attacks without a clever brain
Will stall and fail, just cause more pain.
Down with the dull and senseless crew!
We’ll crown new fascists, old and new —

And horror screams like days gone past,
When Chekists ruled with iron grasp.



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




Fools plus fascists, rotten core —
Putler’s weak, can’t wage full war.
Without a plan, the attack will fail —
New fascists rise, the nightmare’s tale.



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



February’s Scoundrel

“February. Ink to weep and cry,
Write of February’s breaking sky,
While slush and roar in cold dismay,
Burn black as spring fades far away.”
— Boris Pasternak, 1912


Our scoundrel: turn on TV, weep —
Our Führer’s fierce, his grip runs deep.
A mastermind who drives the orcs
To charge with brutal, ruthless force.

“Three days — then Kiev,” slyly spun,
He stretched the months — the dog undone.
“******,” that cursed, fierce beast,
The noose he tightened, never ceased.

The noose slips down, the people crushed,
Russia’s folk squeezed, hope turned to dust.
****** stunned — kings and false saints fall,
His double left no throne at all.

A titan in this tragic play,
Bearing “values,” striking the West’s sway.
If you don’t bow, you’re doomed, erased —
A threat to bonds he’s sworn to brace.



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




Turn on the screen — the scoundrel’s there,
Leading orcs with ruthless flair.
The noose tightens, hope’s grown thin —
February’s dark lies begin.



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



Meowing Cats, Talking Sheep, and Komodo Propagandists

The Dao of “Meow” from sheepish herds,
Stinks and fumes in countless words.
Varans many, loud and crude —
Komodo lizards spread the feud.

Poisoned spit sprays on the sheep,
Hybrid wars run dark and deep.
Once poisoned, sheep march to the ****,
Wounded by their masters’ will.

Be a cat — meow loud and free,
Live apart, your own decree.
For sheep, such fate is grim and stark —
No war, no poison, no false mark.



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




Cats just meow, while sheep obey —
Komodo lies lead them astray.
Stay a cat, live free, apart —
Avoid the poison, guard your heart.



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



Hotbed of Evil

Like “Hippocratic Oath” they claim,
And everywhere “democrats” the same.
Hard to write without a curse —
Lies, fascism, degenerates worse.

**** and wars, the mess we’ve earned,
Though no peace, but boils that burned.
Like a python, **** lie still,
Crushing all by ruthless will.

Only the strong hold the reign,
Schemes arise, a twisted game.
Left sector, right — all sell their soul,
No one here plays a decent role.

No barriers for fascist schemes,
Idiocy rules, shattering dreams.
Less tragedy, more fools’ parade —
Masks of grief are just a charade.

What we face is no tragic play —
It’s muzzles tight, night’s foul display.
Hotbed of Evil in full bloom,
If you endure — you share the gloom.



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




Lies and hate breed everywhere —
Evil’s garden, foul despair.
Muzzle up or speak your mind —
Endure the dark, or break the bind.



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



Sinking Rot

A colossus stands on clay-made feet —
This world beneath the moon’s defeat.
Dark fascism thick and deep,
And creeping dumbness crushes steep.

Two-thirds are fools, the blame is theirs —
These logs approve all evil snares.
The lice devour all, farewell, Earth’s grace,
As **** corrupts this sacred place.

Lice are beasts, no humans here —
Satan wears masks, even “communism’s” sneer.
Lies have swallowed all we knew —
No world remains, just rotten stew.

No poison worse than lies so vast.
Multiply them quick and fast,
And madness grows beyond control,
Any command fulfilled in whole.

For fools abound in greatest throng,
No whining helps, no right from wrong.
Repentance fails — the truth’s undone —
The world drowns in this web of ****.



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




A world of clay, on rotten feet,
Where lies and fools and **** all meet.
No hope remains, the rot runs deep —
The Earth drowns fast, too blind to keep.



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



May’s October Child

I walk through May’s own days,
Though it’s October’s haze —
Shedding lies and fear
In this cursed lair.

This world’s become a den,
And rightly so, my friend,
For bowed beneath the dread
Of that pestilent spread.

But June will never come —
The doom’s not far from home:
All filth will fade away,
If Spirit’s gone astray.



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




Walking May in October’s chill,
Lies and fear I fight with will.
The world’s a den, the end’s in sight —
Spirit fades, succumbs to night.



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



So-Called "Mobilization"

Prepping the “meat”:
Office plankton fleet,
Straight “past the cash desk,”
To war — no retreat!

Meat turns into mince,
The “cash desk” will burn.
Marching straight to Hell —
If reason won’t turn.



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




Meat for war, they herd and send,
Reason lost, the march won’t end.



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



Orcs Hiding in Their Holes

Orcs were made to beat and break,
Born of lies, for pain’s own sake.
Step outside your filthy den —
Get a beating once again!

Doubt the Gnome who rules that place,
You’ll get crushed without a trace.
That foul beast holds cruel reign,
Slaves the orcs in endless pain.

Lies justify his cruel hand —
“Love,” he claims, to rule the land.
Orcs all hide inside their holes,
Feeding on deceitful goals.

Yet the beatings never cease —
Gnome and Satan share their lease.
This harsh torment has no end —
Orcs will fall by fiend’s command.



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




Orcs in holes, whipped and bound,
Gnome’s lies keep them down.
Beatings endless, shadows grow —
Power corrupts, the fiends will sow.



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



Monkey Logic

Monkey logic, built on "yes" or "no,"
Simply "fight" or "flee" when dangers grow.
In minds so pitiful, these chains are tight —
No need for prisons, courts, or whip’s bite.

Reality flows as a single stream —
Don’t tear it apart, don’t break the dream.
Else you’ll become just beastly prey,
Led to slaughter, thrown away.

When “fight or flight” is all they know,
You scare the herd — to pens they go!
This world is ruled by fascist grime,
By inhuman beasts who cheat through time.

Spiritual Essence in the One Flow lies,
Where time’s illusion fades and Light will rise.
True humans, semi-gods at core,
Division breeds the artificial war.

Look all around — who do you see?
Eyes dimmed, minds dulled, spirits flee.
Hate that foul fascist spawn,
Curse the fiends who do us wrong.

But that’s not enough — go deep within,
There answers lie — ignite, begin!
The mad world’s song is nearly done —
A dawn of Reason has begun.

This Hell will burn — the Spirit’s way,
The only path to a new day.
Cast off the wretched “necessity,”
Pure Spirit alone is your key.



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




Monkey logic chains the mind,
Fight or flee, no truth to find.
But Spirit flows in Light’s embrace —
Break the chains, reclaim your place.



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



Dumb Lies Crawl

Dumb lies crawl like lava flows
From volcanic fiery throes.
You keep feeding lies unbound —
They’ll reach the ocean’s deepest ground.

Consciousness — an ocean vast.
When its bottom’s reached at last,
Peoples of all fake-made lands
Turn to filth by wicked hands.

The “Sheep-virus” showed the power
Of lies that in the darkest hour
Will conquer minds — then you’re done:
Faster bullets, shells will run.

A war declared on all of us —
By fiends insane, delirious,
In schizophrenia’s grip,
No end to their dark leadership.

For fools, no light will shine, no more —
Trash will dump them to the floor.
But soon the tyrants’ reign will cease,
Their falsehoods shattered, no more peace.

That volcano will explode,
Its wreckage covers all the road.
Slaves from all dumb nations fall,
With masters doomed to their own pall.

For those with reason, through the death
A passage leads to worlds refreshed.
The Sun will burst — the earth will shake —
The living step into the wake of Light awake...