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Ellie Wolf Aug 2018
When its emerald eye glimmers in the shadow of the dusty shelf above
I pause,
I sense a presense.

It is not unlike me to attribute human characteristics to inanimate objects.
Give them names and nicknames and quirky character traits based on how their forms bend.

In the flickering lights of a broke wicken sanctuary though, I do not do it out of habit.

I feel it and stare it back down and see my own reflection in the cracked gems that once were a soul.

A gaudy skull.

The kind you see in home video Indiana Jones tributes,
with hats stolen from someone’s parents,
and jackets stolen from someone else’s elder siblings,
and ketchup for blood.

The kind your quirky local manic pixie dream girl uses to hold incense.

The kind I’m about to waste my money on because I’m an adult now and I can use my millennial minimum wage however I want.

I do not become aware of the possessed nature of my new buddy until I take it back home and hear it snicker in the middle of the night.

I know it is the skull, for my roommate is not one to snicker.

(He chuckles when he’s hiding an opinion and has a villainous laugh when it’s coming from a place of sincerity, but that’s beside the point)

I know it’s laughing at me.
I know this for a fact.

It takes me three more nights to call it out on it because I’ve never been confronted with the issue of standing up to a haunted antique I took home from a secondhand shop, possibly owned by satan’s offspring.
But I’m twenty-one years old and still experiencing some firsts, I suppose.

The gaudy skull is exceptionally snarky.
In a way none of my named plants ever were.
Not even Gerard.

He comes for me for the garbage on the floor and the dust on the windowsill on which he’s propped up, and then later for my poor taste in chore-doing music.

I never ask for its name because I know for a fact he’ll make a game out of it
and I am not in the mood for entertaining ghosts.

I come to realise it all on my own a couple of weeks later.
Once the snark starts to wear off,
and domesticity settles in,
and shared quiet becomes comforting,
despite the circumstances.

It is Judas.

I know this for a fact.

You do not understand the extent to which I am certain that it is Judas.
I have never been so aware of someone’s origins in my entire life.
I bought this creepy item and it is now in my room and I’m developing a weird attachment to it and maybe occasionally use it as a paper-weight and it is Judas.

I feel it in my heart and know it inside of my skull that might be standing on someone else’s touchscreen windowsill
two thousand years in the future,
jade stones for eyes even though I specifically requested amber,
but you get ****** over by bureaucracy even after death.

How do I know it is Judas?

Because I feel him stare at me like he wants to kiss me late at night and sense him plotting my betrayal early morning.

I know it is that, for a fact, because I’ve felt this exact sensation before.

My **** edgy room decor is Judas.

I try to get him to admit it himself by talking of past lovers and reading aloud the surprising number of Jesus metaphor poems I have in my room.
I hate Jesus metaphors, but I do it for that sweet sensation of seeing someone trying to dodge the inevitable once it’s coming at them like a mule through Rome piloted by the son of god.

I know he’ll cave eventually and tell me
and I know it’ll be the same caliber of glorious news as Jesus coming out of his own cave of burial,
resurrected and preaching winning.
I know I’ll win.

And I think to myself that maybe I am in the mood to entertain and just haven’t found the right outlet yet.
Maybe history’s most infamous apostle is It.
The original sinner and the original rebel.

(I’m aware it’s technically Cain, the jealousy-ridden son of Adam and Eve, but I only ever count the gays)

Judas and I have bonded.

And I can tell he’s on the verge of telling me his dark and twisted backstory. Again, I have felt this sensation before.

And when it happens, we can talk
about what it’s like being demonised by the one you love
and being the odd one out in your devotee friend group, even though you eat bread and drink wine and worship metaphor just like them.
And how patriarchal institutions distort history to pedal the same tired spiel of everything having a place and everything being there for a reason.

But we both know that isn’t true
because neither of us feel like part of god’s plan or created in anyone’s image.

And we can listen to sad music about wanting to kiss the wrong people together.

And that’s all I ever wanted from a friendship.
suicidal twitch Oct 2014
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****,
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****,
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Finally finished darlings!
Ghazal Apr 2016
The age of letting time take its
own, slow course is gone, perhaps
For every hour is rush hour,
Every meal is a quick-bite,
That cup of coffee always instant,
Honking even before the signal goes
from yellow to green, the rule

The age of savouring the moment
to its delicious limit is gone, perhaps
For every flaw is now a breaking point,
Every argument cause for a split-up
Every mismatch provocateur of second thoughts

In the age of waiting being obsolete,
Patience becoming a virtue redundant,
The plain, small joys of life becoming insignificant,
The material replacing the abstract,
The direction of the swipe on a touchscreen
Becoming the decider of the fate of love stories,
I'll never find you, perhaps,
If this world continues to function
Like a real-life dating app
JC Lucas May 2015
Sweetly stomach-sick
again.
Plummeting back into
my puzzle-piece niche
among more notes in the same key.
We’re a messy chord,
played by masterful,
but drunken hands
on a piano
wavering on the brink
of broken intonation.
Just close enough to make
you want to sing
along
and hold the right notes in your throat
bring the decibels up
to a thrum,
vibrating in my chest that
calms down the sick
in my belly.

It feels good-
in the most nerve-wracking way
to look at you looking at me
like that again.
Tim Knight May 2015
Somebody put Kylie Minogue on
from the wall mounted touchscreen one-pound-a-go jukebox-
Coldplay would've been better, but I should be so lucky-
and the rising water in the Titanic's engine room of noise
rose to a First Class stateroom chatter and Kate Winslet
and the queue to the bar grew a little longer

and then
you
walked
in
like
a
Sunday
morning
walk,

one long stroll by a river edge or lake side,
through a Westfield, Bluewater Meadowhall
in one long rehearsed map move entrance
dodging standing drinkers and their plus ones in Zara trench coats and Boden shawls,
and you left a wake of wet forest and crumbling beachhead afternoons behind you as you
walked
on
through
the
crowd
to the pool table at the back where you watched
*** after ***
after pint
after ***
after we need more one pound coins to play more pool,
and you went out for **** though you don't smoke yourself
and you looked up into the mist because you're the kind that would find New York Stuart Little big:
mostly building, building, building, window, balcony, bridge, statue and Central Park trees,
and you walked back in with river eyes, your lids moving from cold back to behind-the-fridge, pub-room warm
and they watered a little, Pacific blue sliding over eternal black;
I think she's the kind that needs a lion tamer not an orchestra leader,
but I've only got Petit Filous muscles and I had four raw eggs this morning and I'm still not as strong as I’d like to be,
(put the baton down, Tim)
a River Phoenix younger Harrison Ford stasis, one train wreck ride to remember,
nowhere near the lion tamer you need.

Kylie sings for the fifteenth time in a row,
and the bar is past last orders though cash is pushed under for pints
and you disappeared under bar light
and then into the moonlight
and now I'm sat grieving
the Golden Retriever of The Nutshell
in Bury St Edmunds this evening.
FROM coffeeshoppoems.com
Alan McClure Jul 2012
I will not plug in, you fools -
you may dazzle, tempt and cajole
with high tech-cessories,
interactive goggles, voice activated,
touchscreen detachment-inducers

But I will smugly refuse.

Because the information you impart,
while instantly comprehensive,
is flawed.
I will hear-see-smell my way
through this beautiful life,
truly connected
and weaving through the cloud-heads
with impunity.

Until -

composing a poem
to explain my superiority
I stumble
and break my ankle
on a jaggy branch
which moments before
a rabbit
unfettered by language
noted
and bounced effortlessly over
before merging
with the quick green undergrowth.
anastasiad Dec 2016
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Sam Conrad Dec 2013
258 days,

June

First week of June?
Amazing. I'd experienced your body...for real this time. Did more with you than I'd ever done with anyone. That party...

Sister, brother leaving...

Couch...
Us...

Not like it matters, now.
Reminds me. I should probably be put in a straight jacket if you ever get close to me again someday. Like, if you ever decide you can be okay with what I did to you. What I did to you was not okay, though.

June 13th
Hickey #2 ("#3) found
Whoops. We got too caught up in this whole ****** business...
Gauntlet thrown down
My aunt was over with her two children
8:27pm: "Please call us ***-***-XXXX"
Replied 8:35pm: "I can't right now. My aunt and her kids are over...
Lizzie told me she was in trouble during her break. I'm assuming I'm in trouble too? I'm not going to make any excuses this time and I apologize. Its my fault. I can call when my aunt leaves."

Around 8:45pm, my cell phone rings. My aunt and her kids are still over.
I am shaking so badly that I have trouble sliding my finger on the touchscreen to pick up the call.
Some of the call is a blur to me.
I cried so hard.
I shook so hard.
I cramped in places I'd never cramped before.
I was gagging on the phone and it just made them more mad at me.
Around 9:55 the phone call ends.
They told me they were going to take all your clothes off.
They pushed me to admit I'd had *** with you.
I wouldn't admit it.
I wouldn't admit anything except the hickey.
God knows we did more.
But I just hoped that God understood that I never wanted to lose you.
I never wanted to lose you.
They asked for my 18th birthday, so they could mark their calendar as the "day they could touch me"
(Because assault on a minor = felony, assault on adult goes much more easily)
I never wanted to lose you.
That threat alone almost made me **** myself. They threatened to hurt me. Physically. On my birthday.
I never wanted to lose you.
They told me they had expectations for me.
They told me I had to hold a certain GPA, and wouldn't tell me what it was.
They told me I needed to have a certain job, by a certain date, and they wouldn't tell me what the date was.
They told me to "let them take care of that ****", the dates they wouldn't tell me.
They told me I should graduate in 3 years, I forgot about this one...
Claimed "I was smart enough to do it" and that "maybe it would prove I was worth their daughter seeing"
They compared me to Zack W. and how they made him break up with you.
They told me they wouldn't force me to do that but that I'd be sorry for what I did.
...by the end of the phone call though, she had softened up.
After all, I was crying so hysterically...she either pretended, or temporarily understood that I was sorry.
She told Ray I was really sorry.
Ray though, was in the background screaming
"That ****** isn't sorry. He ain't ******' sorry."
...
When you got home that night,
They took it easy on you.
They didn't actually strip your clothes off.
They told you they were "kinda harsh" on me and that I "took most of it for you"...
...
...
...
The week before, my friend Nick drank himself to death. He essentially committed suicide.
...
Two weeks later, your mom refused to talk at all about this phone call.
It was sick what she did to me.
I was sick inside. I hated myself. Not to mention Nick invited me over the night he died.
He would be alive had I been there that night.
...
If I had been there with Nick, he wouldn't have died.
...
...
I ended June full of so much guilt. So much confusion. So much pain. I lost a friend. I lost myself.
...
June.
In over my head as if I'm the little kid doing a nosedive in the deep end, because I'm invincible.
Why do we do it?
Why are we constantly putting ourselves in situations that ultimately end up hurting us?
It's only human nature to crave love. To need love.
In the end, no matter how badly we get burned, we still have our memories to hold onto,
carefully choosing the ones that make us the happiest, the ones worth remembering.
Late night texts that we read and re-read, smiling at messages from a boy through a touchscreen.
Elation, giddiness, emotions creating such a high that we cling to every moment of it.
To experience the feeling that someone out there, even for a second, cares about you...
Nothing beats that, because invincibility cannot be beat.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
A generation force-fed beautiful lies
more desirable than their own lives.

Touchscreen dreams and virtual societies
keep the mass' minds dry and occupied.

Their bodies malnourished and deprived
from all of those
delicious GMOs

Wake up, humanity, and
smell the final rose.
David Ehrgott Nov 2014
I wanna be your gizmo baby
Handheld all purpose device
Fool with me all you want to baby
Touch me!  That's so nice!

Touch my buttons  Plug me in
Charge my battery
Touchscreen touch me soft and easy
Let me know that you are nice

I wanna be your gizmo baby
Handheld [all] purpose device
Let me help you  All I can do
Baby, you're so nice

Fool with me all you want to baby
Touch me!  That's so nice!
Shari Forman May 2013
Loss of all my love texts,
Loss of all my pictures,
Loss of a touchscreen,
Loss of the memories.
hellopoet Oct 2015
whole, on widescreen
tumblring at band speed
etched in mindscape

immortalised secret
longing fingertips
touchscreen caresses
offering online trysts

decrepit offline reality
disjointedness tides
monitor-eyed numbness*



●○
°
what a waste Dec 2017
Harvest the honeybees;
Pluck their budding wings and
place 'em at his base for all the world to see.
Topple the God's that took away our sheen.
Park your disobedience in a bucket of Soylent Green.
Climb the pyramid scheme with a gut full of gasoline
then scream, "A kamikaze ain't got a ******* thing on me."
Regurgitate your dwindling dreams all over their Dramamine.
For ****'s sake folks, they took Morpheus and fed him to the sea.
Sorry, but the subroutine's got me itching for an inch of breeze
and the Machine Queen next to me is pressuring me like a submarine.
It's touchscreen feelings meets a world that wont stop bleeding.
I'm sure the regime's got their fist's full with antifreeze from the
last time they marched quarantined sardines to the guillotine.

Praise Prometheus.
He couldn't get in and he couldn't get out.
Michael Marchese Aug 2022
Makeshift machines
Making me
Out of touch
With a touchscreen reality
In my palm’s clutch
Bonnie Mar 18
I scrolled through the world on a glowing screen,  
Where faces smile but none are seen.  
A thousand "friends" with a flick of my thumb,  
but my heart is still lonely, heavy, and numb.

I sent a "LOL" to a blinking face,  
But the laughter? It lingered in no known place.  
The hugs were emojis, the laughs acronyms  
A hollow façade, cheap digital whims.

So I asked my phone, "What’s wrong with me?"  
It buzzed and it hummed and said, "Let’s see…"  
"You’ve got followers, likes, a profile so bright,  
But maybe you’re missing what’s out of sight?"

I wondered aloud, "What do you mean?  
I’ve got all the gadgets and a touchscreen."  
The phone just blinked, and offered no aid,  
The battery dimmed and hope was decayed

So I stepped outside with hesitant feet,  
The air was real, the sun kissed my cheek.  
But what if a stranger my presence espied
Better not risk it, I’m going inside.

I rang up a mate, just to hear them say,
“Wow” it’s been so long! Let’s meet up today."  
No filters, no captions, no polished display,  
Just stories and laughter to fill up the grey.

By the lake where the willows gracefully bend,  
We spoke about nothing, but it still seemed to mend.  
My fears took flight, like birds set free,  
And the world felt vast, yet still kind to me.

But even so, when the sun slipped away,  
And I found myself alone at the end of the day,  
It seemed to me, that we all blindly dance  
Fleeting connections left up to chance."

It’s the paradox, the great in-between,  
Of a world that’s both digital and unseen.
Counting likes to a meaningless prize  
I yearn just to matter in somebody’s eyes .

So I’ll take the tech, but I’ll tread with care,  
And seek the moments that make life rare.  
A screen can’t hold you, nor replace the touch,  
But balance is everything—it matters so much.

So here I stand, a creature of two,  
Caught in the old, the new, the true.  
I’ll scroll a bit, then I’ll put it away,  
and live, and love, in a human way.
This verse explores the paradox of living in a hyper-connected yet isolating digital world.
Kafka Joint Nov 2020
If you stare into the abyss,
A touchscreen stares back at you.
Travis Green Apr 2021
Boy, you got me geeked
Spinning and dreaming in your heat
Incapable of speaking
‘Cause you’re so sweet like Reese’s
A fresh young ****, so love
So tough with his stuff
Smoking that good good
Living in the hood
Strapped with the gat
Wearing your red hat
Got your whole crew on deck
Controlling the block

You know you hot with your swagger
With your notorious flex
With your glorious lex
Equipped with the rims and tinted windows
With the pioneer touchscreen car stereo and speakers
Representing like a real G
So dangerous like angel dust
Chucking the deuces up
To whoever comes thru

****, you’re the truth
Everything I ***** with in a ****
Located up north in the Brooklyn streets
You’re so lit like a freak
Getting rude with the Henny
Guaranteed to be a winner
Packing your stacks
The way Trav like it

I need a goon like you
That can tune my engine
Take me up to your room
And we can get busy
With memorable kisses and touching
Sexing ghetto style
Getting buck wild
Riding your stick
Feeling your grip
Oh, you’re so sick
Baby, keep hitting it like that
I want that **** passion
So, I can never forget
How you put it on, Big T
Whit Howland May 2020
Through my writing
is how I reveal

much of who I am
but that said

I am still an enigma
and better yet

a contradiction
as you might think

I'm pensive
a man of thoughts

shall we say
but simple observation

will show that I have
nervous fingers wrapped

tightly around a pen
or furiously pecking

like a hen at a keyboard
or a touchscreen

Whit Howland © 2020
An abstract word painting.
Bell’s Theorem

Revealed — unshaken —
That the world’s unbroken:
“Causality” is fakin’,
Its backbone bent and broken.

“God-particles,” they hover
In bonds that distance can't cover.
Not parts, but woven Wholeness,
One cosmic Thread of Oneness.

Dump your creeds and stumble
Through the lies they mumble.
Spirit is the Binding.
Sensing it — no finding.

Fall for “laws” they’re preaching,
You're a puppet, screeching,
Worshipping "Order," gladly —
A puppet of the Baddies.

******* dressed as scholars
Sweep away the hollers
Of truths that shake foundations —
Like Bell’s revelations.

Fools adore their “reasons,”
Chained by shallow seasons,
Gulping lies from stations
Run by dark mutations.

Schools churn out the simple —
Mouths agape, they nibble
All the junk they’re fed with.
Souls grow faint, infected.

By this flood of madness,
Drowning deep in sadness,
Lost — unless you fire
Back with rebel ire!

To the Spirit — turning,
See the world now burning:
Slaves call filth “salvation.”
Only bold DARE NATION.



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




Bell rang loud — no chains remain.
Causality? A false domain.
All is One — you sense or die.
Truth's for those who dare defy.



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



“Civilization”

Civilization?
W­here have you seen it?
Spirit’s stagnation.
Mind has no meaning.

Rulers are soulless —
NO! It can’t be.
Only wild rages,
Mass lunacy.

“Wise” is the idiot,
Slave is the king —
Madness runs rampant,
Monsters rule things.

“Civilized,” are you?
Means: chicken for stew.
Bound by your terror —
And silent, too.

Enemies, surely,
Hide in the dark —
Scarecrows and goblins
Drawn for a lark.

TV defines them.
You chase the cash.
While lies enslave you,
Fear makes you thrash.

Dumbness is sowed here
Till you're a freak.
"Smart" is deception,
"Truth" — for the weak.

“Civilized reptiles,”
Everywhere crawl.
Build the next zoo-cage —
Same protocol.

Children will trust it —
“Earth is near-Heaven.”
Later — the guts hit,
Truth strikes like venom.

Better to perish
Than rot in this pit.
Dreams you still cherish?
They’ll strangle it.

You call it living?
It’s death on delay —
Serving as minion,
Dying each day.

Only the seekers
Of spirit and light
Will find their soulpath
Through hardship and night.

Grow your own power —
Blow the Hell wide!
Freaks will go under,
Beasts will subside.

Born in the Spirit,
Bathed in the Flame,
One — we will clear it:
End of the shame.

Sun will rise stronger,
Burning through lies.
Freedom feels closer,
Brighter the skies.

Liberation through dying.
Rebirth through the Fire.
Believe in your trying —
You are Spirit’s lyre.

Pull back your bowstring —
That is your task.
The target — God’s choosing.
Now lift off your mask.



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




This “civilized” hell — just cages and lies.
The Spirit rebels. Let monsters demise!
We're born as the bow — now draw and ignite:
Judgment is near. Be arrow of Light.



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



The Futile Search for Friends

You walk the streets — and maybe spot
Some gifted soul to share your fate?
Then die alone — for you are not
The kind the slaves appreciate.

No scribbled words will earn you grace —
As Sasha Chorny once made clear:
The filth now runs the book review race,
The herd of fools is loud and near.

Your only friend? Still — paper, page.
So was, so is, so shall it be.
No wine will ease the inner cage
Of toil and raw intensity.

No "bright distractions" ever quite
Relieve the soul from daily strain —
Mass culture, made for brainless blight,
Just makes you nauseous with disdain.

So, poet — know: the path you tread
Leads deep within, where truth may gleam.
Life is a block; your neck, the thread —
The headsman smiles. Don't trust the dream.



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




No friends await you in the street.
The poet walks alone — complete.
The world is filth. The fools applaud.
Dig deep within — or die by fraud.



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



So-Called “Civilization”

Idiots around — pure rot.
“Culture”? Just a corpse that stinks.
Brilliant minds? A rare forgot.
Fear and madness — all that links.

Mocking souls becomes a sport
For the beasts behind the screen.
Masses ruled by liars bought —
That’s now normal. Filth is queen.

And the bottom’s gone — it's smashed.
What’s below? Hell’s rushing near.
Each new year we dive more brash —
Fools rejoice, devoid of fear.

"Doctors" care, and "teachers" preach
All the "newness" we must praise —
Turning people into screech-
less, obedient piles of waste.

Even cannibal regimes
Now are floated as “OK.”
Fascism returns through screens —
COW-ID showed us the way.

But — surprise! The gate is locked.
Hell’s full up — review begun.
Souls must scatter, re-dispatched —
Soon shall burn beneath the Sun.



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




Rot runs deep where culture dies.
Fascists smile in sweet disguise.
Hell awaits — but doors are shut.
Sun will cleanse this world of gut.



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



So-Called “Civilization”


The stench of rot is everywhere —
The dull, the dead-eyed, fake, insane.
This “culture” breeds a blank despair,
A carnival of souls in chains.

The mind once bright — now deemed a threat,
A relic scorned, a fading trace.
While screaming mobs, in shame and sweat,
Devour all truth, and call it “grace.”

Mass media — the Beast’s own tongue —
Commands the swarm, controls the flow.
It feeds on filth, and from among
The filth arise the gods below.

The vile are kings. The brave — erased.
The liar lauded, truth denied.
Each virtue twisted, hacked, replaced —
The well of meaning long since dried.

And now the floor gives way — it's gone.
The cracks descend to blacker pits.
Hell opens up — but not as dawn…
It’s swallowing us bit by bit.

Year by year, the spiral spins,
Faster toward the core of night.
While fools applaud their padded sins,
And hail the chains as noble right.

They “heal” with poison, “teach” with fear,
Redefine what it means to rot.
They train the soul to disappear —
A slave that even dreams it’s not.

And soon the talk turns to the flesh —
To eating it, as if it’s fair.
They test the lines, erase what's left —
And grin as death perfumes the air.

You saw it once in names disguised —
Cow-ID, rules, a quiet *****.
The gulag now is sanitized,
A touchscreen leash, a social strike.

But even Hell must draw a line —
Its numbers swell, its halls are full.
And now the system starts to grind,
To sort the cinders from the wool.

The souls — they scatter, some to flame,
And some to higher realms unknown.
The Sun prepares to cleanse the shame,
To burn the filth down to the bone.

No more delay. No “moral grey.”
No middle ground, no soft retreat.
The final fire clears the way —
And melts the lies beneath your feet.

You were not born for chains and screens.
Your blood was forged to cut through dark.
But time runs thin — and in between
The silence strikes. And leaves a mark.



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




This world is lost — but truth won’t die.
The Sun prepares. The liars fry.
Hell overflows — the gate is closed.
Now choose your path: ignite… or decompose.




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



So-Called “Civilization”


They call it “civilized,” this blight —
Where darkness wears a neon mask.
Where minds collapse beneath the night,
And hearts forget their sacred task.

The air is thick with screams and screens,
Where madness feeds on every soul.
A broken world of lifeless scenes,
Where lies are taught as self-control.

The Beast has many names and faces —
It sings through news, through laws, through care.
It builds delight in prison places,
And poisons freedom through despair.

The wise are hunted, truth is mocked,
And silence grows like cancer’s root.
The soul is drugged, the spirit blocked,
And reason drowned beneath the brute.

Yet this is not the final act.
Though bottom cracked and Hell unsealed,
The clock turns not to endless black —
For Light prepares to be revealed.

A Reckoning beyond all speech,
Where fire sees what flesh conceals.
The Sun, no longer out of reach,
Will scorch the filth, and purge the wheels.

Those forged in truth will rise again —
Not as the weak, not born to kneel.
Their flame survives the storms and chains —
Their hearts remember how to feel.

No tyrant grasps the thread of fate.
No screen can mute the call within.
When Spirit speaks, it will not wait —
It burns, it breaks, it starts to spin.

So tremble, world of bought pretense.
Your walls are ash, your power thin.
The final code is not defense —
But Light erupting from within.

And those who walk the narrow path,
Through pain, through loss, through haunted night,
Shall see beyond the beast’s grey wrath —
And be reborn in living Light.



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




The lie will fall, the flame will speak.
The brave arise. The strong, the meek.
The Sun will cleanse. The end is near.
But those who burn will reappear.



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



****** of False Science

Their “Lord’s Prayer” — from labs of lies:
Like priests, but dumber, dead behind eyes.
They chant their dogma, dull and thick,
And jab your face with “logic” sticks.

Their "proofs" are forged, absurd, and hollow,
But sheep are soft — they whine, they follow.
And so these ****** of science fake
More lies than truth can ever shake.

With Cow-ID they raised the stakes —
A rerun show of AIDS and snakes.
They frame your mind with twisted tones —
The Overton Window’s cracking bones.

No more "proof" — just bland decree.
"Believe or die" — that’s now the plea.
The *****-machine no longer waits,
Facts take too long — they slam the gates.

Their truths are *****, served as gold.
The dim retreat into their holes.
City rats think sludge is right —
They melt in numbers, blind to light.

The camp is coming, digitized.
Each word they speak — another lie.
The Beasts proclaim it, ******* loud —
And pain shall rain without a cloud.



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




False science kneels to darkest power,
Its lies devour hour by hour.
They build the camp with screens and fear —
And Hell begins… already here.



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



The Calm of Rotten Truth

False science prays in sterile tones —
A choir of clerks with hearts of stone.
They chant what’s paid, not what is true,
And pierce the eye with data skewed.

Their proofs are shells, their facts — arranged.
But people, soft and pre-deranged,
Obey with ease. They do not fight.
They beg for lies that sound polite.

They once sold fear through names like AIDS,
Now Cow-ID reshapes the cage.
The Overton Window gently slides —
No one resists. The truth just hides.

There is no need for proof today.
They issue edicts, clear and grey.
The time for reason came — and went.
Now power speaks. Consent is spent.

No one debates. They just affirm.
The cities melt. The people squirm.
They swallow filth as if it's grace,
And call it fact — with vacant face.

A digital camp, precise, refined,
Is built for body, soul, and mind.
The screens will shine. The truth will choke.
No flames — just silence, thick as smoke.

They triple lies and call it peace.
The torturer retires in fleece.
No blood, no cries. No need for chains.
The system runs through quiet brains.



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




No need for force. No boots, no screams.
They die inside — and call it dreams.



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



Hopeless clarity

1. Lie
A lie no longer wears a mask.
It isn’t hidden.
It isn’t proved.
It’s simply declared —
and thus becomes the norm.

A lie is not a glitch.
It’s the interface.

2. The Mass
The crowd doesn’t want meaning.
It wants a signal.
Rhythm, repetition, approval.
Fear and format.
The mass is not people.
It’s an algorithm
that feeds on human bodies.

3. Silence
There is no resistance.
Only overloaded channels.
Signals multiply —
and meaning dies.
Silence is no longer
the absence of words.
It is all words at once.
Until no words remain.

4. Oblivion
Nothing explodes.
It just fades.
Memory doesn’t burn —
it updates.
What isn’t encoded
never existed.

You didn’t vanish.
You were never launched.

5. Molecule of Fear
Fear is a molecule —
Invisible, yet dense.
It binds the weak and strong,
Turns breath into suspense.

It’s coded deep within —
No cure, no cure but trust.
A virus made of thought,
An endless, choking dust.

6. Simulacrum
Reality's just a shadow
Cast by screens and lies.
Truth dissolves in pixels —
A mask that never dies.

The genuine is deleted,
Replaced by coded frames.
We live inside the fake —
With manufactured names.

7. Erasure
Words once carved in stone
Are now erased in bytes.
The past is overwritten —
Lost in endless nights.

To remember is a crime,
To forget — the law.
History rewritten,
By those who hold the saw.

8. Zero Point
At the zero point —
Where all things cease to be,
The spark of consciousness
Fades to vacancy.

No noise, no light, no thought —
Just endless quiet fall.
The final protocol:
The end of all.


---

Fear binds. Truth fades.
Memory dies.
At zero point —
Only silence flies.


---


Prophetic Manifesto: The Quiet Collapse

Lie no longer wears a mask.
It’s not concealed, nor proven —
Simply declared, and so it stands:
The new norm, the interface.

The mass no longer seeks meaning,
Only signals, rhythm, echoes.
Fear, approval, frozen format —
An algorithm feeding on flesh.

Resistance fades to silence,
Channels choke on excess words.
Silence is no absence now,
But all words screaming at once —
Until the last breath is stilled.

Nothing explodes; it simply fades.
Memory does not burn, but updates.
What is not encoded, never was.
You didn’t vanish. You were never launched.

Fear is a molecule, invisible but dense,
Binding weak and strong alike,
Turning breath to suspended dread,
A virus made of thought and dust.

Reality is shadowed by screens and lies,
Truth dissolves in coded pixels.
The genuine is deleted,
Replaced by frames and masks.

Words once carved in stone are erased
Byte by byte, overwritten by law.
To remember is crime; to forget, obedience —
History cut down by the saw of power.

At zero point, all ceases to be,
Consciousness fades to vacancy.
No light, no noise, no thought remains —
Only endless quiet fall.

The Final Refrain:
Fear binds. Truth fades.
Memory dies.
At zero point —
Only silence flies.



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



Servants of “Culture”

Nothing but self-censorship
In this wretched “culture” pit.
The skin’s the thing — no scholarship —
Just ****** and shallow counterfeit.

Supporting vile Beast’s demands,
Forward, no delays allowed!
Cash flows if we sell the scams —
Fill the herd — keep them cowed.

If we scare the beaten crowd,
Praise and bonuses appear.
Old templates worn and loud —
We jab the fearful spear.

We parcel lies in measured doses,
Powder them with fake allure.
The flock devours, soon disposes —
Blinded, dull, but so secure.

Thus we serve the Devil’s throne,
Babbling nonsense called “art’s face.”
In a pool of stench alone,
We **** the crowd’s feelings — a disgrace.

Distracting from the darker scene,
Inviting doom with smiling guise,
This is the pinnacle, obscene —
Of *******’ vile enterprise.

Decay’s own bards, they proudly sing,
To fools, they seem important kings.



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




Culture’s servants sell the lie,
Drowning truth while cash flows by.
Masters of decay and sham —
Puppets in the Devil’s plan.



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



The Outcome of “Civilization”

Masters now in treachery,
Long sunk deep in lies and greed,
While happiness is misery —
A mirage, no thought to heed.

Is this the end of “civilization”?
Where **** are bowed to low and vile,
Where genocide and degradation
Wear lies brazen as the style?

Where Honor, Dignity are dead,
And selling out’s as common as breath?
Where nearly all the souls are bled,
And fools and madmen rule as “best”?

Where dulling minds are factories —
Producing fools with steady hand?
The masses blind to chains and lies,
Not seeing shackles on the land.

In wildest slavery they scream
Of “freedom” — fools, forever lost.
The world’s become a broken dream,
A madhouse shrouded deep in frost.

Where beasts now rule through endless age,
Changing form, but fascism’s core.
Where murderers write the savage page,
And wars explode forevermore.

****** once named ******’s brand,
Now worse in Bedlam’s ****** reign.
False scientists lower than the sand,
Blind liars fueling the insane.

Here Reason’s clouded, minds obscured,
The Spirit lost, while Satan schemes,
His plan of ruin all assured —
Your country’s falsehoods haunt your dreams.

We’ve hit the bottom — no more down.
The time has come to burn this hell,
To free the world from monstrous crown,
From all who made it such a cell.

Traitors will fall and be erased —
No Human left in their design.
Though many lost, their minds displaced,
The fire will cleanse the grand decline.

A rebirth born of Spirit’s flame,
But no “ticket” to paradise,
If you accepted this decay,
And let the Evil grow and rise.

You’ll need resolve and steady will,
This shame, this rot, this deadly blight.
Endure the Spirit’s slaughter still?
Endure the Mind destroyed by night?

Measure your life to the bottom,
Pour it out in battle’s fire.
Let **** be burned — reject your doom.
Defy the Fate they’d all conspire.

Slave’s fate is fixed for many — true.
But those who fight are never slaves.
Though soul enchanted, weakened too,
Though poor and crushed beneath the waves.

Fight on — seek out new paths to tread.
The vile know all old tricks by heart.
Strike fresh, strike hard — crush them dead!
Trample their rot, tear it apart!

Dirt to dirt. But light to light alone
Will always strive and find its way.
Know this: you’re demi-god, your throne
Is struggle, tearing **** away.

Victory of Light is writ in fate.
Be bold. Honor alone commands.
The soul’s salvation waits for those
Who fight — while vengeance strikes the lands.



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




The end is rotten, but still we fight —
For Light, for soul, for what is right.
Stand strong, destroy the vile breed —
Victory’s born of fearless deed.



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



The Reckoning of Civilization

Masters of betrayal, steeped in lies,
Long drowned in greed, devoid of light,
While happiness, a mirage, dies—
And thought dissolves in endless night.

Is this the end of “civilization”?
A world bowed down before the ****,
Where genocide and degradation
Are law, and lies become the drum?

Where Honor and Dignity lie dead,
Where selling out’s as common as breath,
Where souls lie crushed, and fools instead
Are crowned the norm — the face of death.

Where dulled minds churn in factories,
Producing fools with cruel precision,
The masses blind to their own chains —
Unaware of their submission.

In wildest slavery, they cry
Of “freedom,” fools with broken wills,
A world that’s lost beneath a sky
Of madness, darkness, endless chills.

Beasts rule across the endless age,
Changing masks but not their core.
The savage page of war and rage
Repeats, surpassing times before.

The horrors named from past regimes—
Now pale before today’s dark reign.
False prophets preach in fevered dreams,
Spreading lies that blind the sane.

Here Reason fades into the void,
The Spirit lost, consumed by shade.
While Satan’s plan is now deployed,
Your homeland’s soul begins to fade.

We’ve hit the lowest point — no more descent.
The hour has come to cleanse the flame,
To burn away the foul torment,
And free the world from vice and shame.

The traitors fall — erased by fire,
No trace remains of man’s disgrace.
Though many minds may yet expire,
The flames will purify this place.

From Spirit’s ash, a new dawn springs,
But no free pass to Heaven’s gate,
If you accepted rot’s dark kings,
And stood aside while evil’s fate.

Hold fast your will, embrace the fight,
Endure the shame, the dark abyss.
Can you withstand the endless night?
Or fall into the dark’s cold kiss?

Measure your life down to the core,
Pour it forth in battle’s breath.
Let **** be purged forevermore —
Reject the judgment cold as death.

The slave’s fate lies in chains and pain,
But fighters carve a different way.
Though weakened, poor, entranced by chains,
The soul that fights will never sway.

Seek out new paths, beyond the old,
The vile know every worn deceit.
Strike hard anew — destroy, uphold!
Trample corruption beneath your feet!

From dirt to dirt, but light to light,
The spark will reach beyond the gloom.
You are a demi-god in fight —
Destroyer of the rot and tomb.

The victory of Light is writ
By fate itself — be bold, be just.
Salvation waits for those who quit
Not fighting — but who fight and trust.

Prophetic refrain:
The darkness falls — but light remains.
From ashes rise, break all the chains.
The final reckoning is near —
Stand firm, for dawn will soon appear.



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



Concentration Camp

No education here remains —
Spirit crushed, and Reason dulled,
A conveyor belt of numbness,
Blind slaves, slow-witted, culled.

The newsfeed floods with lies and rage,
It fills the mind, consumes the soul.
You’ll vanish lost and wasted—
Left only with the toll.

******* rob you of your honor,
Of conscience, thought, and light.
This is no jest — revenge is coming
For Spirit’s sacred might.

They have their false “science” teaching,
Where “brain alone creates it all.”
Those ****** deny the Spirit —
This madness will soon fall.

This herd of worthless liars,
Pushing falsehoods with a sneer,
“Respectable” in masks they wear —
Believe them, and you’re lost, my dear.

Forget the sacred Spirit —
You’re then just rotten ****,
A door to hell and chaos,
The void where life’s undone.

Without the Spirit, you’re a wretch —
A shameful pestilence,
Who bears the rule of tyrants
In Earth’s dark penitence.

The Earth already trembles,
Soon swept of all its grime.
No Spirit, no defiance,
Only fools in honor’s prime.

Not search, but brutal censure —
Not knowledge, but deceit.
They need a foolish servant,
A slave beneath their feet.

A global camp they’re building —
The whole world in their grasp.
With flags adorned by red crosses —
Reason they unclasp.

Those who trust the fascists —
A countless horde of ****.
In this enslaved domain,
The mind is swiftly done.

The Spirit faces slaughter —
Such is the times we live.
Become a dung fly here —
The price for your submission.

And gladly they accept it —
A true and living hell.
The **** will not stop killing —
While fools rejoice and dwell.

Imbeciles, psychos,
Schizoids and maniacs rise,
New forces bred of evil —
Smart minds soon meet their demise.

Two thirds of all the people
Are mentally decayed.
Corruption’s limit reached —
No country left, just shade.

A raw-material appendage,
To Cabal they belong.
Betrayal’s bitter cost,
Declared a war so strong.

Annihilation for all —
Awake! Resist this fate!
Rise up against the darkness,
Fight fascism before too late.



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



Concentration Camp

No true learning dwells within these walls —
The Spirit crushed, the Mind undone,
A factory of dullness churns,
Where blind slaves march as one.

The flood of lies, a raging stream,
Fills every hollowed space.
And lost, you fade without a trace —
Left only with despair’s embrace.

******* strip away your Honor,
Conscience, reason — all laid waste.
This is no jest, but sacred vengeance,
The Spirit’s wrath misplaced.

They wield false science — sterile, cold —
Where only brain commands the soul.
Those traitors cast the Spirit out,
Their poison taking toll.

This flock of liars, false and proud,
Speaks with a hollow, brutal sound.
“Respectable” in their disguise —
Believe them, and be bound.

Forget the sacred flame within —
Become a shadow, torn and thin.
The gates to Hell yawning wide,
Where light and life rescind.

Without the Spirit, all is dust —
A wretched pestilence,
Enduring tyrants’ dark designs
On Earth’s fallen conscience.

The planet shudders, cursed and torn,
Soon swept beneath the storm.
No Spirit’s spark, no daring soul —
Just fools in empty form.

Not seeking truth, but censure’s grip,
Not knowledge, but deceit's embrace.
They crave a servant dull and blind —
A slave lost in the race.

A global camp now stretches wide —
The world itself enslaved.
Red crosses mark the banners raised —
Reason crushed and waived.

Those who trust the fascist lies —
A legion blind and lost.
In this realm of shackled minds,
Wisdom pays the cost.

The Spirit’s slaughter is the age —
A time of shadowed breath.
Become a dung fly in this world —
The price of slow death.

They welcome chains with open arms —
Hell’s kingdom on the rise.
The **** will not cease their slaughter —
As fools applaud their lies.

Imbeciles and madmen reign,
Born from evil’s endless night.
Bright minds snuffed like fragile flames —
Doomed to silent blight.

Two thirds succumb to madness’ grip,
Corruption’s final veil.
No country left, just empty shells —
A world doomed to fail.

A raw resource, bound in chains,
To Cabal’s dark domain.
Betrayal’s bitter, burning brand,
Declared a war of pain.

Destruction falls on all alike —
Awake! Resist the fall!
Rise up, reclaim the Spirit’s flame —
And break the fascist thrall.



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




When Spirit dies, the world grows cold —
A prison forged by lies untold.
But in the depths, the flame survives —
Resist, arise, and fight to thrive.



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



Concentration Camp

1. Conveyor of Darkness
No light escapes this grinding mill,
Where minds are crushed and souls are still.
A conveyor belt of dumbed-down breath,
Marching blind to endless death.

Identity lost, all voices fade,
Replaced by shadows the system made.
A world turned grey, devoid of thought,
Where reason dies, and slaves are caught.

2. Flood of Falsehoods
The floodgates open — lies cascade,
In waves of noise, the truth betrayed.
A storm of words, a tidal wave,
That drowns the free and feeds the slave.

False prophets preach from screens alight,
Replacing day with endless night.
The mind consumed by crafted tales,
Where freedom withers, hope now pales.

3. Stripped Spirit
The Spirit’s skin is torn away,
Conscience crushed beneath the fray.
Honor shattered, cast to ground,
In silence deep, no peace is found.

The sacred flame grows dim and cold,
By hands of liars bought and sold.
Yet in this void, a spark remains —
A seed beneath the weight of chains.

4. The Gate to Oblivion
The gate swings wide, a yawning void,
Where light and life are both destroyed.
A realm where souls are cast aside,
No hope, no truth, no place to hide.

This threshold marks the break of being,
The end of all that once was seeing.
Without the Spirit’s guiding flame,
Existence burns, reduced to name.

5. Chains of Illusion
Bound tight in chains of crafted lies,
The mind enslaved, the Spirit dies.
Illusions thick as iron bars,
Conceal the truth beneath the scars.

Betrayal sows the darkest seed,
To bind the will and crush the creed.
Yet even locked in deepest night,
The soul may rise to grasp the light.

6. The Silent Fall
No thunder sounds, no battle cries,
Just quiet as the spirit dies.
A slow decay, a fading breath,
The gentle drift toward cold death.

All meaning slips like grains of sand,
Slipping fast through unseen hands.
The world reduced to hollow shell,
A tale of silence none can tell.

7. The Spirit’s Flame
But in the blackest, bleakest night,
A tiny spark begins to fight.
Unseen, unheard, it burns within,
A quiet war to cleanse the sin.

This flame defies the endless dark,
A promise held within the spark.
No chains can bind, no lies can ****,
The Spirit’s flame burns on, until—

8. The Reckoning
The reckoning will shake the ground,
When truth at last is unbound.
The tyrants fall, their lies undone,
The night recedes before the sun.

Stand firm, arise, reclaim the fight,
The dawn is breaking through the night.
The Spirit calls — awake, arise!
And cast the shadows from your eyes.

Final refrain:
From darkness born, the Spirit wakes —
The cage will break, the soul remakes.
The path is hard, the night is long,
But Light will triumph, pure and strong.



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



Help Talents Shine

Help talents rise and show their face.
Forget schools, forget the holy place —
Where children’s minds are dulled and crushed,
Their spirits broken, hopes are hushed.

They turn them all to slaves and tools,
To serve the weak, the blind, the fools.
But talent stands above the pack,
Rarely does the herd have its back.

Inside them lies a twisted doubt —
A complex bred to drag them out.
The plight of talents — Bedlam’s shame,
A world that plays a ruthless game.

It’s always been this way, you see —
A mad world helps the weak to be.
It breeds the same, a vicious breed,
Because the worthless need their seed.

So if you’re gifted, trust yourself,
Gather your strength, claim your own wealth.
Though lonely roads are hard and long,
Self-censorship will keep you strong.

Be your own master, don’t despair —
In solitude, find courage there.



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



Help Talents Rise

Help the gifted break the chain —
Schools and temples breed the pain.
Dulling minds, crushing the soul,
Turning free hearts into coal.

Talent stands alone and proud,
Rises strong above the crowd.
Trust yourself — be your own guide,
Master self, with fearless stride.

No more chains, no false disguise —
Let your spirit claim the skies!



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



Rise, Talents — Break the Chains!

Schools and temples? **** their lies!
They crush your spirit, feed you lies.
Turning children into slaves,
Dumbed-down beasts, their souls in graves.

Talent’s rare — and hated deep,
By weaklings who just crawl and creep.
But you — stand tall, ignite your fire!
Burn their lies, destroy their pyre!

No master but yourself, no chains,
Own your power — break their reins!
Rise fierce, rebel, and never bow,
The future’s yours — claim it now!



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



So-Called Medicine

False medicine — a brutal cult,
Their “god” is Satan’s face.
Filthy fiends rule as chief and judge,
Their “cures” a worthless disgrace.

They silence truth about the cancer,
While healing herbs hold sacred power.
Cut off from Spirit’s subtle ties,
Disease blooms when souls grow sour.

Not human — rotten flesh remains,
They mask the pain, ignore the root.
A herd of traitors, vile and base,
Like vets who treat their two-legged loot.

Now veterinarians turned fascists,
Injecting junk, inventing ills.
Their aim — to punish, lock in cells,
Health’s death sentence, lies and kills.

Get off the backs of human souls,
You **** — release your cruel control!



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



False Medicine — A Brutal Cult

False medicine — a ruthless sect,
Their “god” is Satan, pure defect.
Filthy beasts run chief and law,
Their “cures” are poison, fraud and flaw.

They hush the cancer’s deadly truth,
While herbs hold power, nature’s proof.
Cut off from Spirit’s sacred thread,
Where souls decay, disease is bred.

Not men, but rotting lumps of flesh,
They chase symptoms, miss the mesh.
Traitors, **** — a brutal horde,
Like vets who herd us like the bored.

Now fascist vets with poisoned knives,
Inject their junk to steal our lives.
Their goal — to ****, lock down, enslave —
Health’s graveyard, reform’s dark grave.

Get off our backs, you filthy spawn!
Your twisted reign will soon be gone!



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



Nature and the Fools

An insult to Nature’s core —
All two-legged fools we deplore.
They lie as freely as they breathe,
Like mice before the fascist wreath.

Today, the Führers rot away —
Only **** will kneel and obey.
This garbage heap has no renown —
Just endless howls, a mournful sound.

They howl as if they’ve been stung,
Where Nature’s scars stay old and wrung.
Islands in the ocean’s flood —
Trash they leave where life once stood.

But Nature heals her wounds with speed,
The Sun will burn their vile breed.
She’ll scorch the fools who scar her face,
And save her sacred, ancient place.

After fire comes rebirth’s dawn —
From human filth the pain is drawn.
The spirited, the fierce, the wise
Will live beyond these darkened skies.



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



Nature’s Reckoning

An insult carved on Nature’s face —
Two-legged fools defile her grace.
They breathe lies like poisoned air,
Scurrying rats in fascist snare.

The Führers rot — decay’s parade,
Only vermin kneel and fade.
This cesspool reeks of foul decay,
Just endless howls, no light, no way.

They howl as if the sting is near,
Where Nature’s wounds bleed year to year.
Islands lost in oceans’ tears —
Trash marks graves of ancient years.

But Nature’s wrath will heal and burn,
The Sun will scorch till none return.
It cleanses with its ruthless flame —
To purge the Earth, reclaim her name.

From ashes rises life anew,
The pure, the fierce — they will breakthrough.
The souls with Spirit, sharp and bright,
Will pierce the dark, restore the light.



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



Nature’s Reckoning

An insult carved on Nature’s face —
Two-legged fools defile her grace.
They breathe lies like poisoned air,
Scurrying rats in fascist snare.

The Führers rot — decay’s parade,
Only vermin kneel and fade.
This cesspool reeks of foul decay,
Just endless howls, no light, no way.

They howl as if the sting is near,
Where Nature’s wounds bleed year to year.
Islands lost in oceans’ tears —
Trash marks graves of ancient years.

But Nature’s wrath will heal and burn,
The Sun will scorch till none return.
It cleanses with its ruthless flame —
To purge the Earth, reclaim her name.

From ashes rises life anew,
The pure, the fierce — they will breakthrough.
The souls with Spirit, sharp and bright,
Will pierce the dark, restore the light.

Yet those who fed on rot and blight,
Will drown in flames, consumed by night.
No mercy waits for plague or pest —
The Earth will cast them from her breast.

The final chapter — fire and pain,
To cleanse the soil, renew the plain.
And when the smoke and ash have cleared,
The Song of Life will be revered.



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



The Vile Sellouts

A horde of vile sellouts breeds on Earth,
Soon it won’t matter their number or worth.
In darkness all will rot and decay,
These half-beings will fade away.

No madness left until the end of days,
For this filth sold out to Satan’s ways.
The Spirit’s bond torn sharp and fast —
A chain that held them in the past.

That chain alone kept ******* fate
From swallowing them — but now too late.
They’ve fallen far below the floor,
This filth remains forevermore.

So foul, so hopeless everywhere,
The mind grows thin in poisoned air.
The world is choked with dull despair —
Stupidity reigns, no one cares.

The media’s barking rabid cries,
Announce new plagues, wars, and lies.
Judas dogs serve their dark command —
Dragging all toward the ****** land.

But all these fiends will soon expire,
Consumed by fascism’s fire.
Nature holds her ancient ties —
She needs no cattle, no disguise.

The Sun will burn away the grime,
And save the Earth in ruthless time.
Attacked by fools who mock her name,
The planet’s wrath will burn the shame.

The puppet fools are ruled by lies,
But scorched will be the lowest skies —
Those skins that crawl from hellish pits,
Consumed in fire, as darkness splits.



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



Vile Sellouts

A plague of fiends spreads ‘cross the land,
Their numbers soon won’t matter — banned.
In darkness all will rot and die,
Half-human vermin doomed to fly.

The Spirit’s link is torn in two,
Their souls sold out to Satan’s crew.
Below the floor, forever lost —
Their price was damnation’s cost.

Media dogs bark fear and war,
Judas fools open hell’s door.
But Nature’s fire will cleanse the blight,
Burning fools into the night.

The lowest skins will turn to ash,
Consumed by Earth’s relentless lash.



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



The Stench of Earth’s Pen

Two hemispheres, a neural mess —
A dumb fool lost in loud distress.
If you believe the mind’s the source
Of all thought’s flow and mental force,

Listen close — the Heart’s the key,
The brain’s receiver, you will see.
Soon you’ll grasp the nursery
Of evil’s rise, its cruelty.

Declare the fall of this dark sphere —
Where fiends through rot and foul veneer
Control the mind and spirit both,
“Life’s okay!” — a narcotic oath.

The Spirit’s life — the core, the spine,
The mind should serve — but they decline.
If you’re “too smart,” you’re cast aside:
“You lack the brain,” the crowd decides.

A world reversed — all lies and schemes,
The final age of shattered dreams.
A reckoning for perversions deep,
Alien to Light — the price is steep.

Destruction calls — the fiends must pay,
The slaves who fell below decay,
Will burn with fiends in purging flame —
Farewell, foul stench! No more your name.



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



Earth’s Stench

Two brains but fools remain,
Lost in noise and endless pain.
Mind’s not source — the Heart’s the key,
Brain’s receiver — now you see.

Evil’s brood, the darkened den,
Rotting souls and wicked men.
Spirit’s core, the mind’s just slave,
Truth defied by crowd and knave.

World turned upside down in lies,
Final dawn of darkened skies.
Fiends must pay — the slaves will burn,
Farewell stench — no more return!



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



The Stench of Earth’s Prison

Two hemispheres, a neural mess —
Dumb fools lost in endless stress.
Brain’s not source — just receiver’s place,
Heart’s the fire, the sacred space.

Here breeds the spawn of darkest hate,
A hellish den, a cursed state.
Rotting minds and soulless beasts,
In Spirit’s fall, the plague’s unleashed.

If “too smart,” you’re cast aside,
By mob of liars, numb with pride.
The world inverted, lies and schemes,
The final age of shattered dreams.

The stench must burn, the fiends must die,
No mercy in the cleansing sky.
Slaves and monsters, all will fall —
Earth’s last verdict — end of all.

Farewell foul stench, no more remain,
Your reign is ash, consumed by flame.



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



Lay Down the Law

We’re just the shells, the empty husks,
Where once the “nut” was held inside.
Our deeds are madness, sin, and rust —
In spirit’s depths we must reside.

Refill yourself, the core is Spirit,
Words can’t grasp what lies within.
Don’t trust your ears — intuition’s merit,
Cast out the lies and all their sin.

Turn on your inner voice’s light,
Drive falsehoods far from mind and sight.
Forget “traditions” — waste and rot,
The dump where all the filth is caught.

The Inner Voice will never lie,
Darkness cracks — you hear the cry.
Lies swarm to **** with venomed sound,
Fools march in ranks, all tightly bound.

Those ranks lead straight to death’s cold cage,
“Cured” of thought in this dark stage.
Red Cross flag hides the stinking waste,
A slaughterhouse — a fatal place.

In filth and poison, death’s the goal,
That’s why these fiends wage war on souls.
World wars thrice, the box blares lies,
This world’s a slaughterhouse in disguise.

Believe? Then don’t complain or weep:
Fools **** with poison or with cheap
Wars forged to bind and grind us down —
Escape the zoo, shed every shroud.

Stand strong in Spirit, sharpen mind,
The “flies” find hell a place to dine.
Seek free-thinkers, build your bands,
Shun the madness, join your hands.

The Sun will help, the light will ****
The filth that feeds on fear and ill.
Though hard the path, restore the link —
The bond with Spirit — stop the sink.

The closest is the mind that’s free,
The rest are corpses — dead, you see.
You’re fractal’s part in Spirit’s frame,
Not lost, if you keep burning flame.

There’ll be Light and Victory,
If you fight relentlessly.
The fiends will vanish without trace —
No more the vermin in our space.

Light lives only in the Spirit,
United with the world’s merit.
The “flies” won’t get this, their fate —
Death alone, a certain gate.

Down they go, into new hell —
Where fascist fiends will surely dwell.
Never yield, though hard the fight,
For Freedom’s cause, embrace the night.

You’ll be reborn beyond this Hell,
Leaving this dark place to quell.
So tremble, “flies,” and quake, foul spawn —
Your end is near, your grip is gone!



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



Lay Down the Law

We’re shells without the nut inside,
Mad deeds and sins we cannot hide.
Refill your core — the Spirit’s spark,
Forget the lies that cloud the dark.

Hear your inner voice alone,
The brain’s a tool, the heart’s the throne.
The “flies” all swarm to **** the mind,
Escape their cage, leave hell behind.

Red Cross hides the butcher’s game,
Filth and poison — all the same.
Fools wage wars, spread lies like plague,
The world’s a zoo — refuse the cage.

Stand strong in Spirit, think and fight,
The flies thrive only in the night.
Find your kind, unite as one,
Till light will burn what can’t be done.

The fiends will fall, consumed by flame,
No place for vermin in the game.
Never yield — the fight is true,
Freedom lives inside of you.



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



The Grim Manifesto

We are but empty shells,
Once held the seed within.
Our deeds are sin and madness,
A war we must begin.

Fill up your core with Spirit,
Words fail to grasp this flame.
The brain’s no source — a vessel,
The heart calls out your name.

Cast out lies and blind traditions,
The filth that drags us down.
The inner Voice will guide you,
While darkness cracks and drowns.

The flies of falsehood swarm to ****,
The herd of fools aligned.
Their ranks — a living death camp,
Where minds are left confined.

Red Cross flags veil the slaughter,
Poisoned lies breed the war.
A triple world war rages,
This Earth’s become a chore.

Escape the beastly zoo,
Break free at any cost.
Strengthen Spirit, sharpen reason,
Before all hope is lost.

The flies will burn in Hell’s own fire,
Their reign will end in ash.
The fascist vermin crumble,
Consumed in final crash.

Never yield — embrace the struggle,
Fight hard, though shadows loom.
You’ll rise beyond this darkness —
The light will break the tomb.

So tremble, vile spawn, beware —
Your end is writ in stone.
The Spirit’s wrath is coming —
You’ll burn, forsaken, alone.

— The End —