For
              Carl Solomon

                   I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
      madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn
      looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
      connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
      ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
      up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
      cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
      contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
      saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
      ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
      hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
      among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
      publishing obscene odes on the windows of the
      skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
      ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
      to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their ***** beards returning through
      Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
      Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
      torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
      cohol and **** and endless *****,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
      lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
      Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
      tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
      dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
      storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
      blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
      vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
      lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
      ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
      until the noise of wheels and children brought
      them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
      battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
      in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
      floated out and sat through the stale beer after
      noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
      of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
      pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook-
      lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
      down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
      off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
      and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
      and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
      and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
      Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
      trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic
      City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-
      ings and migraines of China under junk-with-
      drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
      railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
      leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
      through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-
      father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep-
      athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in-
      stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis-
      ionary indian angels who were visionary indian
      angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
      gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla-
      homa on the impulse of winter midnight street
      light smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
      seeking jazz or *** or soup, and followed the
      brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
      and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship
      to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
      behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
      and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire
      place Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
      F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
      eyes **** in their dark skin passing out incom-
      prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
      the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
      Square weeping and ******* while the sirens
      of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
      down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also
      wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
      and trembling before the machinery of other
      skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
      in policecars for committing no crime but their
      own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
      dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu-
      scripts,
who let themselves be ****** in the *** by saintly
      motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
      the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean
      love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
      gardens and the grass of public parks and
      cemeteries scattering their ***** freely to
      whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
      with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
      when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
      them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
      the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
      the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
      and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
      sit on her *** and snip the intellectual golden
      threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
      beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can-
      dle and fell off the bed, and continued along
      the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
      on the wall with a vision of ultimate **** and
      come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
      in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
      but prepared to sweeten the ****** of the sun
      rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked
      in the lake,
who went out ******* through Colorado in myriad
      stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
      poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver--joy
      to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
      in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
      rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
      gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet-
      ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
      solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
      dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
      picked themselves up out of basements hung
      over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
      Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
      ment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
      the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
      East River to open to a room full of steamheat
      and *****,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
      cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
      blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
      be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
      the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of
      Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
      pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the
      bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in
      their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
      with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded
      by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
      incantations which in the yellow morning were
      stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht
      & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable
      kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for
      an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
      for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
      fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess-
      fully, gave up and were forced to open antique
      stores where they thought they were growing
      old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits
      on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse
      & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
      of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
      fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis-
      ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the
      drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap-
      pened and walked away unknown and forgotten
      into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley
      ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of
      the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas-
      saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,
      danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed
      phonograph records of nostalgic European
      1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and
      threw up groaning into the ****** toilet, moans
      in their ears and the blast of colossal steam
      whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying
      to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
      watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out
      if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had
      a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who
      came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
      watched over Denver & brooded & loned in
      Denver and finally went away to find out the
      Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying
      for each other's salvation and light and *******,
      until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for
      impossible criminals with golden heads and the
      charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet
      blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky
   &nb

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& and;
The the.
I'm their of madtowns rejected.
Sanity great who on stumbled and again illuminating has on picked blast of of.
Streets floor expelled void;
The who storefront the head floor.
Boys one.
The jumped seraphim;
Steam with;
Newark's down writers alley came.
Pederasty mol

walking down park  
amsterdam
or columbus do you ever stop
to think what it looked like
before it was an avenue
did you ever stop to think
what you walked  
before you rode  
subways to the stock  
exchange (we can’t be on
the stock exchange  
we are the stock  
exchanged)


did you ever maybe wonder
what grass was like before  
they rolled it
into a ball and called  
it central park
where syphilitic dogs
and their two-legged tubercular
masters fertilize
the corners and side-walks
ever want to know what would happen
if your life could be fertilized
by a love thought  
from a loved one
who loves you


ever look south
on a clear day and not see
time’s squares but see
tall Birch trees with sycamores  
touching hands
and see gazelles running playfully  
after the lions
ever hear the antelope bark
from the third floor apartment


ever, did you ever, sit down
and wonder about what freedom’s freedom
would bring
it’s so easy to be free
you start by loving yourself  
then those who look like you  
all else will come
naturally


ever wonder why
so much asphalt was laid
in so little space
probably so we would forget  
the Iroquois, Algonquin
and Mohicans who could caress  
the earth


ever think what Harlem would be
like if our herbs and roots and elephant ears  
grew sending
a cacophony of sound to us
the parrot parroting black is beautiful black is beautiful  
owls sending out whooooo’s making love ...  
and me and you just sitting in the sun trying
to find a way to get a banana tree from one of the monkeys  
koala bears in the trees laughing at our listlessness


ever think its possible
for us to be
happy


Nikki Giovanni, “Walking Down Park” from The Selected Poems of Nikki Giovanni. Copyright © 1996 by Nikki Giovanni.

I saw the rest of my kind scour against the streets, hands calloused-laden,
wizened by erratic explosions – nondescript music analogous to silence;
terse sleep stiff in wind, homes filled with tension, arrow-headed men
quiver through the busy streets as tatterdemalion as stray dogs.

inverted triangle, sidereal vertigo, mutilated rose and the beheaded tulip.
the ambiguous spiral of the downcast climb. I see all men maddened
by wine over the rooftops.

                   choking in dank light – the night exudes its flayed machinery.
           an empty bottle of whiskey and a body stripped of skin melded with fright
        raised higher than the maladroit sky.

I, whose name is but an algorithm of formlessness. I, whose silence is but the contemplation of stone. I,
whose voice toboggans like a tender ramshackle of incantations
                                   filling tubercular pockets with spare hope yet none are we but only poorer.
    whose fingers are but tired girls tousling in bed lacquered by sunsets – whose nails are paler
    than a ****** of moonlight, whose homes are inflamed hemmed in by petticoats,
             whose eyes set affixed to no avatars in juxtaposition of parks
                                  falling madly in love with everything that glints.

You’re a book
A book with a convoluted plot, sometimes it’s hard keeping up
I’m slowly trying to learn you
I tread ever-so-care-fully
But when you are naked you are much more complaisant
It feels like we’re on the same page
In the penumbral light of my bedroom I climb on top of you and begin to kiss you
Under the sheets it is as if we are pigeons in the eaves, safe and cosy
Two souls coming together via flesh
My hands reach out for your *******,
They reach out for love.

I see you in a new light.
I see you waking up with me in the first light of the morning
White bed sheets and sleepy smiles, your hair tousled
Your eyes plain, your lips unrouged
You’re skin is soft
We make love and have breakfast outside.
My muse.
The sun rises too fast
I find myself looking at you,
Perfect white teeth and a symmetrical face.
I’m way too fond of you to notice flaws
But if I did, wouldn’t they just serve to particularise your beauty?
It’s alright this, isn’t it?
This kind of connubial life we’re living.

Words are all I have.
I am a poet and you like my tongue
This very tongue that holds the small space between your thighs and makes you tremble,
This very tongue that, you say, sounds very unAfrican-
Why don’t you write like an African child?
Well, it is because of the way I grew up and the where I grew up and the who I grew up with.
Like that? Does that sound African enough?

The first time I took my t shirt off in front of you, you said I was thin
No, no,
I remember exactly what you called me: tubercular.
You are bold. I like that a lot.
But also, you’re kind of a *****.
I am in love with you, the whole of you.
You and your nice smelling hair.
You and your dreamy brown eyes.
You and your half-hearted *******.

i,m electric. its, the pisshard light
crapping ugly vowels off the bulbs
on the stree tonthestreet spitting webs
of iridescent ridiculous tubercular scarlet
folds of loose legs
akimbo receptive culling frilly cotton
nets
about their thighs. their thighs crying
white dark femurs
blasting hot
on my i's. on my eyes. on my
   punch heavy brooding crumble
slashing the serious night air nightmare
night blaring
                        neon daughters
dna
         in little flecks
some cordial bums; laugh ******* nonsense
birds. they're a bottle away. a bottle away
a oblivion. sip sip. drink your soul away
     and rude the clean folks
passing on the asphalt rivers
   veining in the cold hot bright darkness

If I asked you politely
Would you quietly *******?
The crap you keep saying
Is like a tubercular cough.
If lies were visible to us
You’d look like a gas cloud.
You don’t just think like a fool
You say it all out loud.

Take a ride on the Reading
Do not pass go.
Go directly to jail, ****.
For a decade or so.
You don’t have any credit
With me, that is for sure.
If you are a disease I bet
Science hasn’t found a cure.

It’s almost like nobody has
Ever taught you about things
Like transparent lying, and
Disgusting racist mutterings.
The only thing that stinks more
Than you is your philosophy.
It’s just psychotic ramblings
And not much else to me.

You’ve lost all your possessions
From decisions you have made.
Now your half interest in hell is
A thousand degrees in the shade.
When you talk, nobody listens
Because they know you will lie.
We hide when we see you coming
And come out after you pass by.

Take a ride on the Reading
Do not pass go.
Go directly to jail, ****.
For a decade or so.
You don’t have any credit
With me, that is for sure.
If you are a disease I bet
Science hasn’t found a cure.

under the tubercular sky
we wonder where to go

the pulse of midnight rain
one times one

picture postcards
of broken hearts
iron dreams
the alchemy of memories
in a gyzym of consciousness

forever was never till now
the everyanything of conversation

college is a lot of fun dad
today we hanged the psychemetrics professor
and that's how break dancing began
in yesterday's semaphore seminar we learned
that excessive nuance can make you crazy
the human mind is but a word game
the right combination gets you in
otherwise a Hieronymus Bosch picnic
at the edge of the Lake of Fire
but sometimes I digress menacingly
into the blazoned uncharted subjective
the campus necromancers are not house trained
consequently they can read spoor like a road map
Professor Phoebe lifted her dress and squatted
took an interpretive dump in the snow
which rapidly melted into its own hole
in the shape of a lyric parallelogram
and I contemplated a change of career path
since majoring in cognition is a tricky business
one marginally deduced sink hole after another
wrack your nurture brains for the nature solution
working with the pharmacy to create a better world
don't you roll your eyes at me
or you'll get a lecture on the mood swing paradigm
when you outwit the voices you have won
quiz on the interior pantheon this Wodenstag
we'll prepare the way of pain
with a ray of sunlight and save the world
believe that and you'll believe nothing is derived
our academicians went into wedge formation
it was an uprising over a lack of continuity
between the wild eyed number crunchers
and the pale tubercular simulation priesthood
the picture took on a vivid rosy hue
because it bled from every pore
where relativists appeal to universals
and tyrants call truth a tyranny
forced my conclusion all traps are invisible
which is why they are called traps
both sides are in on it do the math
it's political suicide everywhere
wisdom is just another commodity
and all vision is parallel up to a point
hold your head still see with your eyes
that's the continuity I'm talking about
the first university of its kind
an effortless engine of didactic beauty
this is obviously the partial reality from which
we piece together the rest of reality
the internal world derives from
the external one every ******* time

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

The hollow weight of this pathetic earth —
It rots within, a joke devoid of worth.
A "two-in-one": free cheese and pitch-black lies,
With maggots squirming where the truth once dies.

It’s full of holes — collapse is drawing near,
Deserved decay, corruption crystal-clear.
Not just poor taste — it's worse than one could dream:
This CONSUMER shames the cosmic scheme.




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




Flowers of Evil

"The city's coming, surely.
The garden soon will bloom..."
But when the **** rule poorly,
You harvest steel and doom.

The **** have built before us —
The Soviets made their bed.
Now new betrayers swarm us,
Like Judas, born and bred.

They’ll plant their seeds and gather
A camp — for human clay.
But now they lie and slather
Without a hint of shame.

With CowID came the slaughters,
Then war — their great delight.
To sink us in black waters
Takes lies, not even might.

And at the sunken station,
They’ll raise their camp once more —
Red cross of degradation,
And dumbness by the score.




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



Corruption as Core

Corruption crowned as greatness —
That’s what this world adores.
While mind and truth and straightness
Are crimes it now abhors!




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



Corruption reigns —
And courage chains.



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



The "Yum-Yum" Herd

The "Yum-Yum" herd is easy to erase —
Just dress a Goat in fleece and twist the phrase.
He screams out "Wolves!" while grinning through the lie,
As bloated beasts keep feeding till they die.

Their “minds” are wrecked — it’s fear and fake control.
With lies and dread, you dominate the whole.
Goats proved it well with fake CowID crusades —
This world now chokes in shame the cosmos hates.




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



Lies

Degenerates, decay, disgrace —
Behold the "new world" in your face.
Lies are money, bold and bare —
Truth can’t even breathe the air.

Lies now rule the power game,
Lies alone will bring you fame.
Lie a lot — you’ll rise, you’ll thrive.
Tell the truth? You won't survive.

If you don’t lie — down you go.
This world’s a sewage pit below:
The bigger the ****, the higher the seat —
The filth floats up. That's their elite.

The pressure builds — pure lies, pure stench,
A nonstop stream from every trench.
Not a day without that spray —
It grows. It floods. No plug, no way.

With no more clogs, the filth now flows
Above our heads, it overthrows.
Now EVERYONE has hit the floor —
And this rock bottom? There’s no more.




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



The Worship of Mammon

Forget all nature, truth, or sense —
Mammon now earns reverence.
Refuse to cheat, refuse to steal?
The beasts will call you weak — not real.

The **** all bow to Mammon's name,
Their god of greed, their holy flame.
What rules the world? Just cash and lies —
In megatons, beneath gold skies.

No truth remains — just fraud and fog:
Behold the Throne of Lies — their ******* log.




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


Stupidity and Sloth

Sloth and dumbness.
Dumb and slack.
And again! Again!! Attack!!!
All it breeds is rot and shame —
A world disgraced, a crawling flame.



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



Sloth! Stupidity! Encore!
That’s the rot they all adore.



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


Stupidity’s Old Game

Dumbing down is nothing new —
Idiots made, that’s all they do!
Once the pen, now cameras choke,
Spewing filth with every stroke.

For the masses, "info" lies,
"Education" — foul disguise.
Only few still guard their mind,
While the herd goes dumb and blind.




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



More Insight

More insight, less “thought” —
Other minds’ nonsense caught
Feeds decay — rot’s embrace,
This world’s logic’s fallen face.

Logic reigns — the world’s in dust,
**** sow lies and fear and lust.
They preach their rule, they cast their spell,
While media breaks the mind to hell.

But heart is insight’s spark,
Mind’s decay is cold and dark.
Heart and mind in strict command —
That’s salvation’s final stand.




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



Doubt Means Enemy

Who doubts is always labeled foe —
That’s how all lousy “-isms” grow.
Built on lies, a twisted scheme,
Communism’s no rare extreme.

Each “-ism” hides a fascist core,
******’s second layer, more and more.
At base it’s pure idiocy —
Human ****, a travesty.

It’s all around, the bottom line,
And soon we’ll burn this cursed spine.
But not by “-ism” shall it end —
Some other fate will break and mend.




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



The Earth’s Disgrace

Man who babbles,
Wildly patient,
Is he truly wise?
Among the evil,
Dull and complacent...
He’s the Earth’s disgrace — no lies!




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



The Weight of False Knowledge

The weight of learned lies drags down,
Or pulls you to a sinking ground.
But once you ditch that nonsense whole,
You’ll find relief for body, soul.

That ******* haunts — a second pit,
Where sharpness dies, where senses quit.
By day and night it weighs you down,
A plague of “sciences” that drown.

These ticks have latched, they cling and ****,
So cleanse yourself — get free, get struck
By truth instead — break off those chains,
And leave behind their pointless pains.




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



The Zoo

From birth you get your "gifts" in heaps,
All useless, like dead men’s keeps.
Consciousness lost, a vacant shell —
For many, fools who sink and dwell.

The mass is dumb, the schizoid’s might,
A fascist stronghold, ruling blight.
They pour their filth with force extreme,
A torrent drowning every dream.

This pressure sweeps the soul away,
A sentence passed we bear today.
From birth you got these "gifts" galore —
Throw them out! They’re zoo fodder, poor.




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



The Global Pleasure Grinder

They grind their taste buds day and night —
The “elite” in sellout’s spite.
Hours spent in fancy halls,
Is this elite, or just their thralls?

The world’s drowned deep in murky slime,
That rotten realm drags us in time.
Honest, brave — a rarity,
But Grinding Pleasure’s law we see.




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



Dumb Boxer in a False Fury

In welterweight, a dumb brute fights —
“Average” heights provoke his sights.
His vision’s clouded, lost in haze,
From many blows that blur his gaze.

The ring’s soaked deep in raging lies,
You didn’t walk — you fought for prize.
Evil set the trap in youth,
Hooked you in with stolen truth.

Run off the ring before they strike,
An uppercut, a swinging pike.
Lies punch hard, they never quit —
Total falsehood’s brutal hit.




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



Average Temperature in the Asylum

The fever’s rising through the ward —
From here comes pain you can’t afford.
A nightmare haunts us all in sleep,
But waking’s hell — too dark, too deep.

Is this a mental ward? It snores,
Farts stink, it breathes foul stench outdoors.
A madhouse? No — it’s no delusion,
Call it what’s true: a place of Ruin.




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



Tedious,
Nasty, vile.
Is it hard?
No — just hostile.
Dull and poor,
Sickening, sore.
How wretched all,
So base, so small...
No god here?
Is He dead?
Or never near?
Or mad instead?
Evil reigns —
The final thread.



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



Europe

Is it rotting, burning bright,
Scorched beneath the furious light?
Few can grasp the whole truth clear —
Dulling minds grow year by year.

Once, kids painted suns in red,
Yellow rays above their head.
Now the sun’s a pale white ghost —
Last days come for all the lost.

And the dead here crowd the skies,
Chaos calls — to dust, all flies.
Those alive, with souls not mice,
Soon will stand before the vice.

After death, a rising flame —
New world where the Spirit claims.
Before the end, resist they must —
This alone remains in trust.



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



Ambitions, "Honor"

Ambitions, “honor,”
Desires, striving,
Positions, pride—
Claims colliding.

Around, there’s empty space—
Hands drop down low.
But not just giving place—
They break from boredom’s blow.

There’s only one way through,
One feat to own:
Deceive your fate,
Keep moving on.




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



Analyzing Your Failures

To analyze your fails is key—
Only then can flight begin.
In this bleak, corrupt debris,
Fools repeat the same old sin.

They step again on traps well-known,
So sort your own, and others’ too.
Or else your sharpness turns to stone—
Without it, madness breaks through.

The mind becomes a plague instead,
Deceived on every side and bent,
Fear drives beasts to wars they dread,
Dumb sheep to slaughter, blindly sent.




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



Maximum Intensity

The plague of this wretched world
Will **** — no chance, always so:
Your consciousness raw and uncurled,
Intensity almost too low.

Intensity plus reason’s strain,
Years long, all else just a haze —
The only way to break the chain:
Beneath the crust, the horror stays.

Only few can bear this weight;
Chance is fickle, many fall—
Like seabirds lost to oil’s fate,
Trapped within the toxic sprawl.

The plague of this broken sphere
Spreads like oil across the ground.
Free cheese from oil they engineer—
We’re taught to suffer, chained and bound.

Evil trains us from the start,
Calling it good as it grows.
Intensity’s the sole true art
To keep us from becoming those.




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



Another Road to Another "Bright Future"

Another road
To "future"—so hollow!
Got a headache?
A quick escape to follow!

The herd, they’ll bait —
That’s how they control.
A fool like a mule,
With blinders on patrol.

A veil across the eyes,
A carrot just ahead.
The future’s a lie —
New blinders instead.




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



*******

Annoying filth of a mad, insane world —
“Shield yourself,” or in **** you’ll drown and twirl.
Your mind may be lonely, cold, and bare,
But in that crap you’re a louse or parasite rare.



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


Crapworld

Shield — or drown in filth and lies.
Stay sane — or be the bugs they prize.



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



The ****** of Mind

"Much learning does not teach understanding."
— Heraclitus


It doesn’t teach — it kills instead,
Chokes reason’s roots inside your head.
They cram your memory by force
To breed a slave’s insane discourse.

The overload, combined with lies
(Where evil's "knowledge" always hides),
Will blur what’s simple, clear, and true —
Then fear will break the rest of you.




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



Herd Instinct

The arrogance of fools so bold,
Unbridled greed you cannot quell,
With blind faith and hearts grown cold,
And cowardice — the herd’s own hell.




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



The Proper Little World

(Based on Bertrand Russell's quote: “To live right means hypocrisy; to think right — stupidity.”)

"Proper" means obeying
Rules that rot the mind —
Templates for betraying
Truth you've left behind.

"Motherland" compels you,
Masked in noble cause,
To suppress what's real in you
By its savage laws.

Soulless, dull compliance,
Dream, consume, obey —
Bow to those in triumph
Wallowing in decay.

Each year grows more twisted,
Lies more bold and loud.
That world — rule-enlisted —
Will die without a shroud.




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



How Long Will We Moo “How Long!”
(While swallowing filth with a grin…)

How long will we moo out “How long!”
Yet swallow this vile little game?
In this pathetic life-singalong,
Only Death will untangle the shame.

She’ll draw the last line, mark the coward,
The soul that stayed true — and the fraud.
The end’s not far off: life’s devoured
By madness… The flames now applaud.

For the Sun — growing wilder, more searing —
Will burn what was bright to the bone.
Just look out the window: it’s clearing…
By morning, you’ll see what’s been shown.




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



How long, you cattle, will you moo —
Yet lick the boots that trample you?



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



“Cognitive” Onanism

So much clutter, distraction, deceit —
A circus of facts, all devoid of the core.
Where cretinous chatter and buzzwords compete,
They fog up the mind ever more.

Fake science keeps silence where truth should ignite:
You are spirit — a flame, not a shell.
But smothered in trivia, buried in blight,
The essence gets lost in their hell.



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



They teach you the fog, not the flame —
Forget who you are. That’s their game.



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



"Upbringing" — a pile of habits,
Rituals wrapped in moral jackets.
In this rotten world, to dare
Just means bumps and blank despair.



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



Dare to rise? You’ll just get bruised —
That's how slaves are mass-produced.




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



Gutta-percha men,
Involution served on plates,
Slugs devour filth and lies,
Chanting "Allah’s will dictates."

“Submit, believe in God,
And curb your restless mind —
All answers lie within the books,”
A dish from Hell defined.




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



Prince of This World

A hot-dog god,
A king "two in one,"
Harsh and cold,
The madhouse’s son.

The madhouse devours —
**** and lies.
— Like cattle, folks? —
Multiply fear, despise.

He’s master of lies,
In masks, he’s skilled.
To serve him is
Shame — a cursed ****.

The cursed **** comes —
Grab the cash flow!
— How to be cattle? —
Accept the lies, the woe.




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



Doclets — Mengele Nervously Smokes

Here’s the CowID **** —
No shame runs deeper.
Fake AIDS warm-up —
Tolerance to the creeper.

Next come the pests,
All kinds of plagues,
They’ll take it all — CowID
Seems bliss in their cages.




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



The Poet Sometimes Raves

The poet sometimes runs with nonsense —
The rhyme leads far off track.
If choking in the stench around you,
A touch of madness won’t crack.

In madness, all the world’s absurd,
When total idiot’s reign
Becomes the norm, and wicked times
Are measured by Satan’s stain.



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



“A Hard Nut of Knowledge”?

A schnitzel of "knowledge," laced with lies,
You eat the poison deep inside —
You're just a pawn where hatred flies,
Where vile beasts breed and multiply.

The mind’s a nut that takes a blow,
From heavy lies it cracks and breaks.
The more you “know,” the more you owe —
For love’s a thing your heart forsakes.

Simplicity with peasant’s mind,
And vision born within the heart —
Unlike the “knowledge” of the blind,
Is what makes love a true art.




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



Total Madness and the Poet

To die a poet—
No greater bliss,
Than not to bow
To all the abyss,
To leave a mark
With furious fire,
Though nerves may snap,
And earth conspire—
If burden not,
Then truth was sired!



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



The Pit

If the Creator’s plan for you
Is just a pit to bear,
Enduring evil’s nothing new—
It’s death of spirit there.

It cuts down all who climb the peak,
As ever has been so—
No contrast now, the truth is bleak:
“Up top” is just pure woe.



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



Victory of the ****

Thanks to comrade Gates, they say,
For childhood “bright” and free—
The computer took the throne today,
For plebs, a tool to be.

Before, a tool, but now it’s just
One endless app to scroll.
You live like in a desert dust,
Where lifeless breezes roll.

Doubtful versions sweep away
All sense with stupid fights.
They turn us all to fools each day,
Only “Classmates” hold tight.

True talks are rare—your neighbor’s face
Unknown in concrete cells.
Consciousness lost, the ****’s embrace
Strikes hard; it casts its spells.

The last of spirit, mind, and light
Shrinks down, then fades unseen.
Only nonsense reaches sight—
The **** has won, obscene.




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



So-Called "Culture"

A stake of aspen in pseudo-culture’s chest,
Drive it deep and walk on light, at best:
A foolish loser buys the shallow fake—
That “culture” stands on fools who take.

True Spirit’s daring, reaching for the Light,
The soul’s own pulse, its genuine fight.
But in that broke, pretend charade,
No answer lives—just empty parade.




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



Themes

Memes serve up their shallow themes —
A challenge to dull all minds, it seems:
With nonsense, they decay the wise,
In memes, the spawn of lies arise.

Expose the false, the half-truth’s shade,
Bring light where darkness tries to fade.
Or we’ll be lost — no time to stall,
Strike down the lies — or lose it all!




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



Pol ***, ******, and Putler

Pol ***’s sweat earned him a role—
A freakish camp to rule the whole,
A country sized like prison walls,
Where terror grips and silence falls.

No need for camps — it’s all the same:
Wherever rage fuels fiendish game,
They spill the blood, the leader’s throne—
Don’t touch the smartest one alone!

The master helm who leads ahead,
Crushing all who dare to tread.
All dissenters — dealt away,
Lost beneath the shadow’s sway.

And Putler, double-faced and sly,
A runt before the great gone by.
He topped even ******’s hell,
Built a nightmare none can quell.




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



The Boredom of the Global Herd

Boredom’s not a beauty’s face—
It’s a sign of drained-out grace.
When you’re penned like common stock,
And that pen’s a messy block,

You can fade away, run dry
In anything — they’ll **** you dry.
All your strength the beasts will drain,
Then beat you down to break your strain.




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



Cheaters and Murra

The ******* deal the crooked hands —
Cheaters always hold command.
They must win, no room for shame,
This world’s a ruthless, ***** game.

If you’re not a cheat, you’re low,
But what’s “top”? Just scraps that flow—
Like a sludge pit, stinking, vile.
“Two-in-one” spray fools with style—
Thousands bask in foul perfume,
Calling stench a scent’s costume.

Propaganda’s lying howl?
No—it’s news, a sickly growl.
Murra rots in every crack—
That’s your “progress,” face the fact!
Cast out doubt in cheats’ domain—
And they’ll lie with brazen strain...




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



We Are Ours, We Build the New... Madness

"We are ours, we build a new world..."
The anthem cries, “International!”


The impossible becomes real,
While what’s real’s a crazy deal:
Hard to grasp, but clear as gas—
Total lies that poison fast.

In this killer’s suffocating grip,
Truth and mind begin to slip.
A half-dead soul must face the crowd—
The New Madness shouts aloud:
New #******* End, fierce and proud...




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



The Race’s End

Monotony of shallow thrills,
The ****** chase for cash and fame—
The **** who lose the roots and wills,
Forget the heart, obey the brain.

The mind, once servant, breaks its chains,
And falls to ruin, lost, abused.
Forgetfulness in lies remains—
The fate of generations fused.

A rotten world, caught in the race,
The finish line—a deathly prize.
Blind liars mix the peak and base,
Confused beneath deceivers’ lies.




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



The Eternal and the Human

Too little of the ETERNAL —
Too much of just the human.
This gnome’s a fleeting signal,
A joke, a mere buffoon.

His mind is small and empty —
Books shallow, plain and cheap;
Lies flood the world aplenty,
Where souls are lost, not deep.

But if the soul’s not vanished —
Through pain breaks into Light,
Through lies and rot, unbanished —
***** doubts! Embrace the fight!




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



A Clamp for Fools

A clamp? — just a clip!
Truth? — a lie so thick!
All’s absurd:
Malice, fear, a ***** trick.

Lies that bind? —
How’s that fit?
Fear turns souls
To creatures unfit.

Lies on fear —
The whole **** clamp:
Russia’s crushed,
In dust and stamp.



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



All the Content of "Normal" Mind Is Clinical Madness

Clinical madness —
The core of "mind" they say.
What’s the real answer? —
Cast false knowledge away,
And journey inward —
Toward the Spirit’s bright light.
No other path here —
None left in sight.



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



A tough and fearsome task it is —
Not to be the beast that sways and squats.
If you’re a bee that flits on roses,
Those roses face eternal threats and losses.

The roses trampled — that’s no surprise:
The fragile, pure here doomed to die.
Grow thicker skin, let tusks arise —
Be the world’s elephant, strong and wise.




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



******-Up State

Tubercular thoughts decay,
Words spew out like *****’s spray:
Around no humans — just mere sums,
And in your head, the nonsense drums.

From vile, total lies you choke,
No other choice but silent smoke.
If you’re smart, bold, true, and free —
Don’t lose your mind in misery.

‘Cause freaking out is way too late —
The world’s a wreck, it’s lost its fate.
On the horizon, grim and tense,
******-up state raises its hand immense...



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


People?

Look around. Are those all humans?
Or just Satan’s icon pack?
Is that food or demon’s cumin —
Hell’s meat platter? Dreams go black.

Darkness, madness — that’s their "thinking",
Or is Purest Mind in there?
Are they sheep for slaughter, shrinking?
Or are humans really where

Shame is branded as “freedom,”
Truth replaced with crafted lies,
Mutant freaks that serve the system
Guard “Constitutions” in disguise.

Freedom is the space for making,
For the Pure-Souled to create.
Tyranny, though, strips and breaks 'em —
Turns them all to meat for plate.

Light is scarce. The Dark is swelling —
It’s a death mark for the Soul.
Breeds are raised through this dark spelling:
Dead ones wrapped in breathing role.

They have fouled and ***** the Planet,
Murdered Nature, left a stain.
Only corpses hear the sonnets
Of the Lie — and most of it is death for brains.




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



Longing

Guts in bowls — the cats are glad.
Is that cure for feeling bad?
Don’t you dare suppress the gloom —
Only fools make grief their plume.

Aren’t you homesick down in Hell
With the crazed who think they’re well?
Few exceptions, few awake.
Madness here is no mistake.

Genocide, a centuries' art —
Mass-producing fools by heart.
Better call it: Slavery’s spawn,
Built on madness, bred since dawn.

That’s the scheme the beasts defend:
Dumb and silent to the end.
Counting chance, the poor blind throng
Sinks in numbness all along.

Grief and lies — how not to feel?
Guts in bowls — the feline meal —
Even cats have smarter wit
Than a SOLD-OUT IDIOT.



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



Foam — then fade:
Dull was the sire.
All betrayed —
The world’s a pyre...



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



EU — the Union of the Gut
Beer bellies sag, the minds are shut.
You fly right in — they weigh your worth:
Just raw supply, not soul or birth.

The “people” — cattle, bought and sold,
Their lives reduced to profit mold.
Above it all, the lying glaze —
Believe it once — you're lost for days.




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



Rotten lies, half-truths, and fiction —
That’s the mix of their “science” game.
End result? A fool’s submission
To the yoke of ****** for fame.



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




Weird young fellow...
Dumb as wood.
Brain is jello,
Spirit — no good.



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



Selling ******

They sell themselves without a fight —
So cheap, those filthy, crawling swine...
They think that death is out of sight,
And ******* seems to suit them fine.

They trade and stab without regret,
As if betrayal never ends.
But Human burns at sunset —
And Bedlam’s fire ascends.




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




Stop Your Hiding — Face the Hell
All around — it reeks, it fell.
Hourly lies through every screen —
End of this pathetic scene.

But your Soul is not for loss —
So rise up and bear your cross!
Only hear your inner flame —
All outside is filth and shame.




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



The Call of Poetry — a Fearsome Might.
If filth and comfort seem all right —
Then don’t you dare into those deeps:
The Path of Poetry is where Sorrow weeps.

Sorrow is ABSOLUTE — the rest is jest.
Stop bowing down to brute unrest.
Just DIE before you kneel to **** —
Just DON’T YOU LIE — Hell burns for some.




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



Stood by you? Not one...
What is it you seek?
Nothing. None. I'm done —
No more need to speak.

Nothing's left to crave —
I have walked through Hell.
Did that forge a knave?
No — I wrote it well.




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




I couldn’t care for this brave “horde” —
These fools who’d sell their souls for fraud,
Who treat betrayal as a sword,
And worship lies as some new god.

Go grab this “life” — go ****** your fate!
You’ll grasp a void. Your mind? — too late.
This path leads straight to what they crave:
A shiny car — to be their grave.




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



Angry Bear

That one? A “president” — a drunk, insane?
The Kremlin’s all just evil waste and stain.
If that’s the case — then we’re all doomed, no doubt...
The end is near, and there’s no way out.



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



“Unreasoning the Reasoned”

Un-reason those who thought they knew,
Break the spell of all this slime —
The nonsense born from lies anew,
Deceit of traitors, cruel crime.

A web of traps and staged deceit,
This world’s a scripted, staged charade.
The soul’s forever under heat,
While Satan’s half-god in the shade.

He writes the plot; the directors — ****,
Monsters hard to find or name.
The whole performance — deafening drum:
One trick — to scare, to lie, to maim.




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



“Love-Filled” Hypocrites

“Love abounds” — but fools surround,
And Darkness holds the world in chains.
Yet smiles so sweet, with grace profound,
Pour oil and tears to mask their stains.



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



The World’s Disappearance in Nightmare

"The waking share one common world,
The sleepers turn to their own fold."
— Heraclitus


The world dissolves — few stand awake,
While “sweet” dreams twist into a snare.
A nightmare traps the soul to break —
Its fallen fate, a fool’s despair.




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



Don’t Trust Your Eyes — The Pattern’s Blurred

Don’t trust your eyes — the mold has blurred
Your view of this dumb, dumb world absurd.
No courage, no sharp intuition —
Just march along to Stagnation’s prison.

A world of fools, a stagnant land,
Where spirit’s mocked by empty hands.
A fool’s small step can’t grasp the core,
No strength enough to seek for more.

Mind ruled by Spirit, life creates —
That’s how decay you’ll truly break.
Forget the stagnation’s curse,
And lies that spread their evil worse.

Assimilation’s reached its peak —
In fools, the chains they gladly seek.
Muzzles on through CowID years,
This world’s a joke — poor wretched peers.




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



“Evolution” of Fools

We don’t give **** — there’s plenty here,
Of sick fools clogged with empty cheer.
We’ll listen close if lies persist,
Relentless lies we can’t resist.

We’ll bow to lies, the box controls,
Feeding us junk, illusions’ roles.
Forever praise new petty tyrants,
In creatures rife with flaws, defiant.

We won’t perceive the chains we wear —
Our gaze on cash, the only care.
Gripped only by the lure of gold,
Buying babes and rides to hold.

No room for fools, they’re cast away —
New “selection” rules the play:
Fool turns cattle — that’s the way,
The age of dumb has its own sway.




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



So-called "Dictatorship of the Proletariat"?

Control and power by the masses —
Duller myth no one surpasses.
Dictatorship of lies insane,
Hidden plague, a filthy stain.

Like typhus, it infects the mind,
Lies disguised, the base you'll find.
Fools swoon fast on fairy tales,
While second depths command the hails.

Pol *** once was “communist.”
Before him ******’s iron fist.
Now the double-faced Putler’s here,
Teaching fools to bow and sneer.

A lesson steeped in lies supreme,
No one learns from past’s harsh scheme.
The freak disturbs the crowds anew,
With poisoned ideas — always through.




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



The Price of Freedom

The price of freedom — cast aside
All else with courage, cast and wide.
No coin in pocket? Let it be,
But time remains for Path and Deed.

The Path is knowledge, Deed — the fire,
A creative, fierce desire.
All else is folly, vain and cold,
A twisted goal by liars told.



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



Not Quite a Poem

Not quite a poem —
The rage won’t cease:
A fleeting flash,
A tense release —

And then — prepared.
A simple grind...
The “catch”?
Just “GRAB AND GRIND!!!”



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



“Yes” and “No”...

“Yes,” if madness rules the world,
And “normal” means the curse.
“No” will leave a weaker swirl —
If sane, you might disperse,

Walk down that wasted road —
Where sorrow’s sown today,
Hell reaps its fiery load.
Don’t curse the futile way:

If “benefit” feeds Hell’s fire,
The **** will cheer success.



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



In Hell’s Dark

“Sometimes the night’s too dark to see.”
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec


A blind mole crawls the tunnels deep,
Collecting tribute from the field.
In darkness, with fools just as steep,
You find the lies that Hell concealed.



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



Heights and Depths

“The higher we ascend, the small
And worthless seem to those who fall.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche’s thought to all.


To fly’s a snare in fools’ dull eyes:
If clear you think — the enemy’s guise.
The Artist’s mad amid the arts,
The Spirit’s Path — a yoke for hearts.




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



Self Inquiry

"Examine all, let reason lead,"
— Pythagoras spoke long ago indeed.


Explore it all, but under Spirit’s reign,
Let Reason hold the foremost claim.
To dig too deep in “knowledge” — foolish game,
For lies abound, and all is not the same.

The rulers know the art of lies,
So falsehoods spread, and truth soon dies.
They twist the sciences with cash and might,
Commanding falsehoods, veiling light.




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



The hamster and the mole both think,
The falcon lost, a sneaky link,
That life on Earth’s not all that bad,
While birds above just lie, so sad.




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




Spineless fools in clouds of madness,
Worldly nonsense, pale and stark —
This is monsters’ cruel gladness,
Brains and spirit fade to dark.

Few remain with backbone’s fire,
Fewer still with spirit’s core,
World won’t be what once inspired —
Soon it rots forevermore.




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



Synergy of Sufferers

"Shared misfortunes bear more patience than those endured alone."
— Niccolò Machiavelli


The sufferers grow in number,
When Evil's faced as one.
Till pain becomes all tender,
And ******* deeds are done.




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



Once so much, now so little —
Nonsense fades, a vanishing riddle.
What’s not nonsense, time will show,
Only years can let us know.

For us? Just few remain
“Fit for duty,” birds in pain —
Like the Red Book’s vanished kind,
Knowing pain, the thoughtful mind.

They know all’s just nonsense here:
Not humans now, but herds appear.
Among them few feel out of place,
Only minds that dare embrace.

To believe and still create
In this *******, cursed fate.
Rot grows like a tightening ball —
Soon this rotten madhouse falls.

Can’t endure this vile breath,
Better much to choose Death.




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



Tall tales gather all the likes —
Killing minds with twisted spikes.
New fascism steps in stride,
Breaking souls with fear inside.



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



Putler’s **** —
The reign of fake CowID’s done.
Now war rages — fools still buy
Every smoke-screen, every lie.

The source was called "The Butts,"
Long dead — yet the second batch trusts
Total lies once more, and swings
Wide the doors for fascist kings...




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




Karachun, old grump, to you won’t come —
Too many moons have passed, it's done.
Where is that spiteful little fiend?
Only boredom now is seen...



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



A minefield lies within the mind —
Deceitful charges placed all round.
The chances not to step — so slim,
The schematics tightly wound.

Only **** could dare to make
These traps that lie beneath the ground.
The herd grazes dumb and fake,
Among the grass, uncut, unbound.

The grass hides every single mine —
A “peaceful” pasture, so it seems.
Painted scenes with oil and line,
As if it’s not a war of dreams...




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



Comparison of Greco-Roman Wrestling and Marathon

Teens’ pillow fight — just warm-up, a test,
Before the marathon’s true quest.
I’ve faced them both — it’s not a lark,
To run that race is hell and dark!



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



Cogs and Mechanism

A tiny ***** is tightly turned—
You’ll never loosen what’s well burned:
It feels no pain, no woe, no loss—
The mechanism wins, the boss.



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



Mountain Practice
(an ironic verse)

From burrow up the hill you crawl,
Seek truth and light beyond the wall.
Tremble only before the bright—
The hamster’s lost, no sign of sight.

That burrow’s home to that small beast,
Whose lies and madness never ceased.
Beaten down by endless lies,
A swamp of falsehoods, dark disguise.




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



The Privileged

The privileged — what a joke:
They boast, but what’s their claim?
Their wealth, their endless bloat —
Few have a worthy aim.

Daddy’s sons are mostly ****,
As usual, every time.
In this world, the subtle hum
Is trapped in endless grime.

The brazen always climb
Right up to highest place.
The privileged only dream,
A hollow rotten case.

There’s always exceptions, sure,
But these aren’t what I write.
When rot is all you endure,
The top’s to blame outright.



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




Step by Step. To the Reichstag
Or will you fall into the abyss?
Arm yourself with fearless grit:
If not the pit — you’re sure to miss!

To live small-world is suicide.
To die — and rise again, there’s chance.
Forget all speeches, pomp, and pride —
In Bedlam, only Honor stands!

Death will rank us all in lines.
Reverse the order, watch it clear:
Those who swim in lies and fat —
Are last, far off, in utter fear.

A stranger shows up in the distance,
With a name that cuts like steel:
“F#ckup” — world-wide consequence.
This small world’s doom is real.




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



Super Sport

Bullshitters rule the football game,
Less cash, less players, fans the same.
Shots of lies suppress the fools —
In this sport, propaganda rules.

Top league filled with perfect liars,
Politicians—first-class buyers.
Not a gang, but highest tier,
Goals scored well, the crowd will cheer.

The rigged machine runs like a clock,
Now more than ever, it’s a shock:
Everywhere dull fascists rise —
This sport’s just lies behind the guise.




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



Mass-Produced Prison

Mass-market prison, trap of waste—
Consumers stuck in **** misplaced.
Can’t pull them off, no quick escape,
Only root them out, reshape.




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



The Angry Bear and the Russian Asylum

The Angry Bear left marks behind —
Shameful traces, raw, unkind.
Spewed such wild, insane disgrace,
That the whole Asylum stared in face.




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



Partly Not Partly...

Partly it’s a blessing,
That it’s not all a blessing—
Partly… Not a curse, confessing—
This world’s a Hell’s own dressing.

Will it choke or will it swallow?
Choke it will, not partly, hollow—
Whole and full, then it will follow,
A new world born, new joys to wallow.




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



Solar Apocalypse

"Children of the underground" —
The future’s dark for those who’ve found
A chance to save their fading breath.
That “captain” just spins nonsense,
Spewing cow farts, dense pretense,
Everywhere the CEO’s death.

These tales are old, the lies abound,
Your head will swell, the dumb surround.
This widespread plague of empty minds
Leaves all in shock, it binds and blinds.

And CowID’s the first test—
For those who to the cities rest—
Below, like tags on herds confined,
Masks lock them all, enslaved, aligned.




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



"Enjoy!" — a common phrase before a meal...

Even cats without affection
Won't embrace their food’s connection.
A restaurant, like fairy tales,
For two-legged beasts with tails.

Who’s the animal? Think twice,
Scrape off pride and all the vice:
Nonsense, lies like swirling smoke—
This is what the truth provokes.

The final verdict’s clear and crude,
But we won’t name it — rude,
“Man like god”? A cursed fraud —
The Horned God, foul and flawed.




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



Drowning in Lies

They push —
We sink.
They push Lies —
Sick of all these stinking kinks...




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



The Suckers

Lies? Well, then turn on patience...
And multiply your tolerance?
If ******* wins the fight,
You’re lost — no chance in sight.




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



Sellouts

Why do you cling to those corrupt freaks —
Honor, dignity? Like, who needs that, geeks?
Scary as hell — these sellout clowns, no tricks.
They tear apart what’s fragile, thin as sticks!

Thin the *******, thin the minds, so weak —
Primitive fools, but still, try books you seek.
“All subtle” — in the ****’s stale, crooked schemes,
But dissonance still rings loud through their dreams.




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



They ****** Us All

They ****** us ALL —
That’s how this world is.
Keep grinding, “Emelya,” —
Wretched, poor, and helpless.

Chew your grub,
You VILE beast —
You’ll find a noose,
A flea sold out, at least!..




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



Truth and Fiends

How many fiends? —
Too **** many!
Roasting lies? —
No place to carry.

Enough to wait
For that tight space —
Time to ****
Those beasts with grace!

Not by force,
But all the same —
Few chances left
To become the same.

Just Truth,
Harsh and raw!
A burden, yes —
That’s what it’s for.