"Blessings" Missed—Is That Misfortune?
Missed the "blessings"—what a fate?
Luck? Just dust beyond the gate.
For the Soul to serve and strive—
That’s the curse for those who thrive.
World’s a coffin, "gains" are dust,
If the Spirit’s crushed to rust.
Glory, riches, hollow cheer—
"Lofty heights" for slaves to steer.
---------------------
Burnt-Out "Machine"
A poet sold to evil’s stream—
No fix will bring back fire or dream.
His words now spin in dull pretense,
A goat’s own verbal impotence.
---------------------
To Think You Know It All
To think you know—now that’s the fear,
Worse than the void of what’s unclear.
For in that pride, you always fail—
A legacy of falsehoods’ tale.
---------------------
Gilded Cages and the Rest
Life in a thorned and narrow cage,
Or thorns outside—worse, to wage!
Ancestors left this cursed mark,
In slavery's chains, the soul grows dark.
In tangled realms, we stumble, lost—
A legacy of endless cost.
---------------------
The Fool's Courage
Does the fool’s boldness
Impress you? No,
Not when there's no reason,
And madness takes the show.
A fool's own motivation,
Take war as a sign:
Without evacuation,
Life’s worth is barely a dime.
Only before death’s door
Will he see the cost,
Not with his mind, but "fur"—
A fool, forever lost.
---------------------
The "Miracle" of North Korea
Study it, then start to apply—
Make the people more afraid,
But a "paradise" you can't deny,
Is one that’s never truly made.
---------------------
Nonsense Modeling Pseudo-Reality
X and Y, and Z instead—
Form the three-dimensional dread.
Add on time to raise the weight,
To make the burden escalate.
But the Spirit’s depth forgot,
Everywhere, the fleeting thought—
They imposed it, called it "life,"
The BEASTS' deceit, their endless strife.
---------------------
Fears Are the Gallows
Fears are gallows,
Lies the axe,
Fight the evil,
Don’t look back.
---------------------
My Address
My address isn’t house or street,
But the city of the blind,
The realm where deafness fills the air,
The land of fools confined.
The structure—chains that bind.
---------------------
The Passing Years
The years go by, the fools grow more,
The further, dumber they become.
And so misfortune strikes the shore:
The dumber the world, the crueler some.
---------------------
Whose Board Is It, Anyway?
To whom is the board, for whom the game?
To many strangers, none the same.
This path is for the chosen few,
The rest just shovel through the blue.
---------------------
The Land of Dreams Nowhere
To live by dreams—such simple creed,
But all is trash, where tears may feed.
What’s a dream in such a place?
A folly—dreams lead to NOWHERE’s space.
---------------------
Citizen No One in the Land of Nowhere
In Nowhere, No One cannot fight
Fate’s cruel hand, or bear the blight.
The fool’s conscience fades with time,
Honor’s lost—spit on it, no crime.
---------------------
Liberation from Hell
A shift in "dimension" means death,
If you’re aware of it,
A chance to leave this solid breath,
Which’***** its lowest bit.
But first, you must live your life,
Full of creation’s spark,
And visions clear. If you stir strife,
You’ll never leave The Dark.
---------------------
We sit in burrows, talk and chatter,
Embracing lies, yet dream of bliss.
If "brothers" harm us—doesn't matter,
We'll break them down with iron fists.
But when the beasts in power tower,
Demand, command, and call the shots,
We hold our tongues and shrink in coward-
ice—even if they pour in toxins hot.
If they "request" with threats unspoken,
With job loss looming in the air,
Then slaves stay bent, with spirits broken,
While ******* sit on royal chairs.
---------------------
Step by step—too slow, too hollow,
Fades the path and meets its end...
Was it others you would follow?
Walk alone—don’t just pretend.
Few will share your thoughts sincerely,
Few will stand and see you through.
So keep moving, pushing fiercely—
Strength will grow inside of you.
If you grumble, lost and weary,
You will never make it through.
---------------------
Fools bear the cross—it's always fated,
The best are nailed, then left to die.
They call it fate—it's fabricated.
They spread the "plague", and filth runs high.
This is their game, their grand tradition,
To dull the minds, to twist and cheat.
A whole industry’s positioned
To breed the fools—their tool, their fleet.
And with sheer numbers, fools start crushing,
Stamping out the brightest minds.
Hold on, my friend—just keep on rushing,
This filth will fade with passing time.
The sun burns stronger, ever blazing,
For decades now, it lights the way.
Yet fools strike harder, blindly raging,
To break the best beneath their sway.
---------------------
We keep scratching, thinking, blinking—
Sawdust fills our heads, unshrinking.
Presses through our skin, revealing,
Makes all shouting less appealing.
Without chants and noise, we're hollow—
Winnie fools aren’t fit to follow.
If we fail to cheer in chorus,
Our great leader will abhor us.
Scratch until it bleeds, no slacking,
Or they'll call you vile and lacking.
If your sawdust spills and scatters,
Fresh is stuffed—the press still flatters.
---------------------
Probing Attack, or Overton’s Window
They send out fools—just light aggression,
To test how much the world will bear.
Once cracks appear, there’s no concession—
The mad battalions swarm in there.
The charge won’t stop; and soon, what’s shocking
Becomes the "norm," no more taboo.
It’s evil’s maw—forever clocking
What else it’s hungry to chew through.
The world grows numb, its mind corrupted—
These probes keep swarming, day and night.
And all "for care," so sly, so trusted—
The traitors feed us blatant lies.
---------------------
Catching the Golden Catfish
We drag out Happiness, gills shaking—
Still, it fights with all its might.
Light the candles, prayers making—
Churches, homes—but no delight.
Reeling in this stubborn creature
Proves to be a futile chore.
Could it be that Nature's feature
Keeps it slipping from the shore?
Don’t chase joy—it’s just a fiction,
Seek fulfillment, chase the deed!
Flip the script—your life's affliction
Comes from waiting for the bliss you need.
---------------------
Make It Sound More Sophisticated
Let the nonsense grow profounder,
Teach it high in college halls.
Fools will stand up even prouder,
Lying big while thinking tall.
Fake new science, like a preacher,
Took the priests' old feeding ground.
Speak too clear? Then every creature—
Even donkeys—won’t be bound.
Once the jargon starts to crumble,
Once they talk in simpler ways,
All their nonsense sounds like mumble,
Fading out in weak delays.
---------------------
Aging Children
Kids leave college, young and clueless,
Never growing, stuck in place.
Life will test them—cold and ruthless,
Filtering the hopeless case.
Few will rise, while most will wither,
Aged-up scouts with childish minds.
Yet among the beasts, they linger,
Ripe for graves their fate defines.
Such a fate is planned, constructed—
Grown-up minds aren’t meant to be.
Easier to keep them rusted,
Locked in Camps where none break free.
Once for scouts, the camps were standing,
Now they’re built with screens and codes.
No place there for minds demanding—
Only drones who take their loads.
---------------------
The Crossing
"Crossing over, crossing over!
Left bank, right—now drift in clover..."
No, it's Charon, grim and fated,
Not from myths—he’s here, he’s waited.
Souls of dead crowd all around him,
Off they go—new Earth to hound in.
Once again, they’ll feast and plunder—
That's the curse we're living under.
Hell itself is but a clinic,
***** ward—its grasp systemic.
Death won't free you—leave in sorrow,
Just to fall again tomorrow.
---------------------
The Press of Evil
Gagarin "flew beyond the sky,"
But left his camera behind.
We swallow lies and don’t ask why—
This fate was shaped for humankind.
It drains our will, it warps the mind,
And keeps the masses dull and tame.
A screen, a beer—just sit, unwind—
The honest ones are dead and shamed.
Then Yankees "landed on the Moon,"
Their cameras caught it all, no less.
And so, by propaganda’s tune,
They crushed us with their press of press.
Then more would come—false "plagues" were spread,
First just a test, then all-out game.
The world was drowned in CowID dread
To learn its place, to bow in shame.
That shame—a Global Cattle Camp,
Where "care" will be the siren’s call.
Your leash will be a data clamp—
A digital corral for all.
---------------------
Population Cut by Bovine Virus and War
First reduce, then crush the weak,
Those who remain, no mercy shown.
In Hell itself, there’s no retreat,
As Hell’s own end begins to grow.
A global Cataclysm looms,
It seals the fate, the final toll.
Genocide and fascist gloom—
They’ll pay the price, the heavy roll.
---------------------
Roof-Crawling
The tower falls, but slow, unseen—
It’s hardly noticed as it’s done.
A madman, calm and quite serene,
Can fool the world and still be spun.
In books and blogs, you’ll find the wreck
Of madness hiding in plain sight.
Disguised as wit, it’s all unchecked,
A twisted, ****** kind of might.
The sign is clear—no sense remains,
Just words all jumbled, empty, tossed.
In quiet madness, all that strains
Is fragile thought, forever lost.
---------------------
"GazMeat" Concern, "LiesBred" Trust
"GazMeat" runs the show, with lies,
"OilFear" keeps the lies intact.
The state’s own structure, full of ties,
Turns what was good into the cracked.
Is it a state, or just a mask?
CowID leaves doubts to grow,
The Puppetmaster takes the task—
And lets the beasts all rule below.
---------------------
Porridge with Meat and Butter
You can't spoil porridge with some butter,
Fear will bind the herd, no doubt.
Lies will lock them in and smother—
Then the slaughter’s coming out.
---------------------
What Did the Universe Tell the Moth?
"The Universe spoke..." you say,
But you're no zero in its sight—
You're a fat minus, led astray,
A bubble of ego, lost in flight.
---------------------
The Recurrence of the Bovine Virus
Strife—"strife" again. Thief,
Is it repeating, this grief?
---------------------
The Scoop, Matches in Stock
A scoop, some matches stashed away,
And soap upon the shelf so neat.
A vow was made—without delay—
No drinking, quiet, in defeat.
---------------------
Means of Building Communism
Ah, to be a pioneer—
Inspired by freaks, year after year,
To swear an oath, the party's call,
And claim "happy childhood" for all.
With tools of building, they'll raise you high,
While praising madness as the sky.
---------------------
Mask and Helmet
Mask is a helmet—at command,
The "people" move, just as they're planned.
In this hellish, twisted dance,
Fools crush the best with no chance:
A rose—a stone, it’s tossed aside,
The stone remains, the flower dies.
---------------------
More of the "Mohr" to Come.
More "Mohr" will come, no doubt,
If you’re a fool who’s quick to shout.
The idiot waits, the screen decides,
As if the truth within it hides.
---------------------
Big Money and the Rest
It’s not that you control the cash,
But money twists you, makes you fall—
It’ll use you for its every lash,
Until you’re lost, no self at all.
---------------------
Masha, Pasha, your delight—
To serve, believe, to wait in line.
The promised cup will come in sight,
With endless wealth—but not for thine.
What they’ll pour into that cup,
Fools aren't meant to ever know.
Day by day, it's filling up—
Sinking lower, down below.
--- Total 36 poems. ---
