So-Called “Russian World”
To drown in the “Russian World” —
Like in ****-filled tanks,
Or a stench-drenched ****-hole —
They’ve clearly lost their ranks.
Two-thirds gone deranged,
Now comes Cargo-Fascism:
A knockoff führer staged —
A clown of cataclysm.
They hoist their flag of rot,
March proudly with that shame.
And lying is their lot —
They breathe it like a flame.
Submission, blind obeying,
With cops in every hall.
And souls, decayed, decaying —
Drowned in the rashist sprawl.
---------------------
Drown in **** — they call it pride.
Fake führers march. The truth has died.
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This World
Lies, greed, and dullness —
No limit, no shame.
Fear fused with ruthless
Make madness the game.
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Greed and fear — the world’s new law.
Truth is dead. Behold the flaw.
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A Day Without Verse
"A day without verse" attacks —
Again it hunts me down.
Samsara’s claws and cracks
Still try to steal my crown.
You must not feed the Fire
To that devouring chain,
Or turn into a liar —
Just breeding, praying, plain.
Burn off a bit of health,
But write — and let it bleed.
Frown deep. That inner stealth
Is just the soul you need.
Despair’s a bitter wine,
But poets drink it raw.
The more we spill the line —
The less we care for law!
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Write through pain — or rot and breed.
Despair's the ink the soul will need.
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A World in Gloom
It lures, it lures, it lures —
Like cheese inside a trap.
It wounds, it wounds, it wounds —
This madness’ endless trap.
So much, so much, so much —
Too much deceit and lies.
No honor, God, or truth —
In this small world of ruth,
Only gloom, fear, and blind disguise.
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Lured by lies, trapped in gloom,
No truth or light — just endless doom.
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“Plague” and Gloom
“Plague” and gloom:
Gloom’s the terror,
“Plague” is lies —
Just a piece of the mirror.
“Plague” replaces tortures, vices —
False doctors, cops in power.
There’s one sickness cutting down
Almost all — dumb mind’s sour.
It begs for “cheese” once more —
“Plague” feeds it fascism’s core.
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Plague lies, gloom’s the dread,
Dumb minds march — fascists lead.
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The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and liars,
False **** dressed up as kings.
Priests have crucified God’s fire;
Fools boast with broken wings.
A global Kunstkamera —
Stuck deep in every gut,
Where meek fools lost their honor,
Forgotten shame and cut.
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Liars, fools, a god denied —
In the world’s freak show, truth has died.
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The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and filthy snakes,
Priests who nailed God to their stakes.
Fools puff up, their heads so wide —
False pride masked in empty lies.
The world’s a freak show, sick and stale,
A Kunstkamera from hell’s own jail.
Where docile idiots sold their soul,
Forgotten shame, no self-control.
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Priests betray, fools brag loud —
The world’s a circus, truth disavowed.
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Mass Executions
The soul is killed by wretched life —
A slow, relentless execution.
We mourn the Mind — while fear and strife
Roam free in filth's profusion.
They burn with lies like liquid fire,
And gas us with a toxic dread.
If you don't fight — the fall is dire:
When soul is gone, all else is dead.
---------------------
When soul is killed, all else is lost —
The silent grave exacts its cost.
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Mass Executions
The soul is slaughtered day by day
By life that stinks of ash and rust.
We walk a funeral parade
For Mind, now buried in the dust.
The liars torch the skies with fire,
Like ****** dreams that never fade.
Fear seeps like gas through barbed-wire silence —
A creeping, choking, black cascade.
No fight? Then nothing will remain.
The soul is gone — and so the flame.
This is the end. No trumpets sound.
Just rot and whispers underground.
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No soul — no dawn. No fight — no sky.
The world decays, but does not die.
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From One Pool to Another
It’s “high-stakes” play, they say —
The stake? A wretched life.
We’re melting down each day
In Hell’s refining strife.
The slime of lies surrounds,
It chokes in every breath.
Betrayal knows no bounds —
Corruption feeds on death.
Just spit — and odds are high
You’ll hit another swine.
This world, a drowning lie,
Where filth and fraud align.
The boilers overflow
With lies — they’re fed and stirred
By ******* down below,
While goats applaud the herd.
And school should teach anew:
Not pools of clean, fresh rain —
But basins full of stinking goo
Where fear and lies remain.
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Truth’s drowned. The world’s a sludge machine —
And fear flows in, where hope had been.
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Ripening
Gold
in grim
and fertile places
ripens
into grains
of grimness’ grinning graces —
while speaking plants,
those rarest ones,
are fodder for the Goat that runs.
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Gold grows in vice,
And truth’s a snack for goats who dice.
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Feast for the Flesh
Sip your tea,
Pet the cat —
The world’s gone "whee!"
And more than that:
If you betray,
You're called a sage.
If you don’t play —
You're out. No stage.
Preserve your mind?
Then lose it all.
The dull and blind
Devour and sprawl.
Hell would freeze
Without these fools.
The world’s diseased —
Checkmate: no rules.
When Mind and Soul
Are trash to **** —
The wretched toll
Serves only Kush.
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Mind is exiled. Flesh is fed.
The world bows down to greed instead.
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The Inevitable Shift of the “Roof” Toward the “Bright Future”
They shove your roof with "leaders" bold,
While acid rains from screens take hold.
Media drizzle rots the top —
And thought no longer dares to pop.
It’s plague disguised as rainfall thin,
And soon it eats straight through the tin.
That “leader” — now a grumpy brute,
Not yet a ******* in full suit.
---------------------
Rain of lies, decay of mind —
And tyrants dressed in humankind.
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The Gradual Displacement of the Roof Toward a Brighter Insanity
(from the notes of Dr. Mass Delirium)
The roof is shifting — led by Chiefs,
Installed like tiles by state beliefs.
But rain — from screens, with acid grace —
Corrodes the thought-producing space.
It leaks. It creaks. The mold sets in.
Hallucinations soon begin:
The Leader seems a sullen chap,
Not yet the full psychotic crap.
Diagnosis: Progressive Roof Loss,
With symptoms spreading like a moss.
Forecast? Bright future, no debate —
In padded rooms... behind the gate.
---------------------
Roof is gone. The Chief is kind.
Take this pill — and never mind.
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Clinical Note #2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
Each “Citizen” is now sedated,
Their thoughts are blocked, their joy — created.
The Chief appears each day at six,
He speaks in tongues, they cheer and fix
Their gaze upon his sacred coat —
He’s “not a killer,” just a goat.
Prescribed belief — three pills a day,
With dreams of tanks in childlike play.
Who doubts the cure — is labeled sick,
And sent off for correction, quick.
The roof’s not gone. It's “redefined.”
No place for rage, or even mind.
Just hum and smile, the nurses grin —
You're healing, friend. Just breathe… and spin.
---
Three pills in, the world feels bright —
The Chief is love. Don’t try to fight.
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Case File: Bright Future Syndrome
Dr. Mass Delirium, Notes
Note 1: Early Displacement
The roof begins to slide askew —
Installed by those in charge of you.
The rain is news. It eats the brain.
But all’s "improving." Please remain.
Note 2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
The Chief appears, they rise, they nod.
He’s not insane. He talks to God.
Note 3: Stability Protocol
No questions asked. The State is kind.
It pulls the teeth, then scans the mind.
Malfunctions? Off to Ward-19 —
Where doubt is flushed with Thorazine.
Note 4: Therapeutic Fogs
Each thought is tracked. Each nerve is tamed.
Old books and shame are both unclaimed.
Art now depicts the Glory Goat —
With golden horns and swollen throat.
Note 5: Advanced Harmony
The patients hum in perfect rows.
Their blood is blue. Their tone — composed.
No soul. No rage. No pain. No fuss.
Success is near — it looks like us.
Note 6: Full Integration
The past is banned. The self — dissolved.
Each trauma now is state-resolved.
The cure was pure. The mind is gone.
They’ve healed, at last.
Condition: ON.
Note 7: Final Discharge
A padded dawn. A smiling crew.
The Chief is Light. The Sky is Blue.
You’re free to go — just wear this tag.
And praise the Flag.
And praise the Flag.
---
The mind was sick — but now it's clean.
All hail the Goat. All hail the Screen.
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Protocol of Awakening
Entry 1: The Crack
There was a crack inside the shell,
A breath — too sharp for padded hell.
I felt the silence start to bend,
A glimpse of thought they could not mend.
Entry 2: The Glare
The screen went white. The Chief went dim.
His voice grew hollow, cold, and grim.
And in the glitch — a shape, a flame,
Not marked by number, rank, or name.
Entry 3: The Voice Beneath
I heard beneath the humming wall
A voice not bred in protocol.
It whispered not in words, but fire:
"Remember truth. Resist the wire."
Entry 4: The Return of Weight
My hands grew heavy, spine grew straight.
I felt again the pulse of fate.
Not theirs — but mine. The pulse that dares.
The one that walks through poisoned airs.
Entry 5: The Mirror Not Approved
They showed me mirrors, all the same —
Distorted lies, with my face tamed.
But one, beneath the floor, stayed clear.
It held my pain. It held my fear.
And through it — light.
Not hope. But Will.
That blazing thing
They strain to ****.
Entry 6: The Breath Beyond
I broke the gates not with a scream,
But with a breath. A quiet beam.
Not rage — but clarity and weight.
The soul does not negotiate.
Entry 7: The Sign
You reading this — you’re not alone.
The mind is not some broken bone.
The fire sleeps. But when it stirs —
The system cracks.
The silence blurs.
So breathe once more. Refuse the mask.
And look inside.
You know the task.
---
They fear your thought, your silent eye.
So rise — and think. Or rot. Or die.
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Voice of the Spark
Whispers from the inner flame
Whisper 1: The Flicker
A spark ignites in deepest dark,
A pulse, a flicker — small, yet stark.
It hums beneath the veil of night,
A seed of quiet, burning light.
Whisper 2: The Breath of Fire
Not blaze, but breath — a gentle flame,
That calls the lost by silent name.
It moves unseen, yet never dies,
A glow behind the veiled lies.
Whisper 3: The Dance
The spark does not obey the wind,
Nor bend to fear, nor break, nor thin.
It dances on the edge of thought,
In realms that can’t be sold or bought.
Whisper 4: The Roar Within
From tiniest flame, a roaring grows —
The fire of truth that no one knows.
It shatters chains, it rends the night,
A rebel born of purest light.
Whisper 5: The Flame’s Gift
The spark ignites the sleeping soul,
And makes the shattered pieces whole.
Not just to burn, but to reveal —
The wounds, the scars, the pain to heal.
Whisper 6: The Eternal Glow
Though storms may try to ***** the gleam,
The spark persists — a steady beam.
It’s not a flash — but endless flame,
A light that calls your true name.
Whisper 7: The Call
Hear now the spark inside your chest,
The voice that never lets you rest.
It bids you rise, it bids you fight,
To guard the dark — and guard the light.
---
The spark survives the darkest night —
Hold fast, hold true, become the light.
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Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part I
1. The Primordial Flicker
Before the cosmos breathed a word,
Before the silence stirred,
There danced a spark — a pulse, a seed,
The heart of all that’s yet to bleed.
Not flame, but living thought enshrined,
In timeless depths of space and mind.
A point where Being meets the Void,
Where light and dark are intertwined.
2. The Pulse Between Worlds
This spark does not consume or burn,
It weaves — the thread through night’s deep urn.
Between the worlds it softly hums,
Where time dissolves and space succumbs.
It is the breath within the breath,
The seed of life beyond all death.
A tremor in the vast unseen,
A presence felt but never seen.
3. The Eternal Flame
The flame eternal is not fire,
But purest will, a deep desire.
To rise beyond the chains of form,
To birth the light beyond the storm.
It neither burns nor ever dies,
But dances in all seeking eyes.
The spark that calls us to become —
The echo of the primal drum.
---
In endless dark, the spark survives —
The root of all our waking lives.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part II
4. The Threshold of Silence
Between the words, beneath the sound,
Where quiet folds the world around,
There lies a realm without a name —
A stillness neither wild nor tame.
The spark breathes here — a silent breath,
Alive amidst the dance of death.
It holds the space where thought dissolves,
And mystery’s deep question evolves.
5. The Mirror of Infinity
In every flicker, worlds arise —
Reflected in eternal skies.
The spark reflects the boundless sea,
Where time itself bends endlessly.
Not trapped in form, nor chained to flesh,
It flows through cosmos in a mesh.
A thread that weaves the soul’s design,
The light where mortal and divine align.
6. The Sacred Fire Within
This fire is no cruel blaze to burn,
But sacred glow where spirits turn.
It lights the path through shadowed ways,
A beacon in the darkest days.
Not of this world, yet here it dwells,
A secret only silence tells.
The spark that wakes the sleeping soul,
And makes the broken pieces whole.
7. The Infinite Becoming
The spark’s own nature is to grow —
Beyond what flesh and time can know.
An endless flame of pure desire,
A constant forging in the fire.
It is the pulse of life and death,
The sacred bridge of every breath.
The living core that calls to be —
Unbound, eternal, and free.
---
A spark unseen yet always near —
The endless light we hold most dear.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part III
8. The Sacred Vessel
Within the void, a vessel waits —
A chalice wrought beyond the fates.
It holds the spark, the primal fire,
The source of all, the deep desire.
Not wrought by hands of mortal clay,
But forged in night before the day.
A sacred urn that none may see,
Yet cradles all infinity.
9. The Whisper of the Atman
The spark — the breath of Atman’s flame,
Unborn, eternal, without name.
It sings beneath the veils of form,
The stillness where all storms transform.
No bounds contain its boundless light,
It dwells within the darkest night.
The inner flame, the secret core,
That fades and burns forevermore.
10. The Dance of Maya
The world — a dance of shadowed light,
Where spark and shadow share the night.
Maya weaves her endless veil,
A mystic web both frail and frail.
Yet through the dark illusion’s guise,
The spark perceives, it never dies.
The watcher in the play of lies,
The truth beneath the worldly guise.
11. The Flame Beyond Form
The spark transcends the shape it wears,
Beyond the flesh, beyond the cares.
An essence pure, unbound, untamed,
Forever one, forever named.
It burns not down, but upwards still,
A flame of will, a boundless thrill.
The light that calls us to return —
To where the primal fires burn.
12. The Eternal Return
Through endless cycles, birth and death,
The spark returns with every breath.
A phoenix rising from the ash,
Beyond the veil, beyond the crash.
It is the pulse that never ends,
The path on which all spirit bends.
Within each heart, the sacred spark —
The light that rises from the dark.
---
A flame unborn, beyond all time,
The sacred pulse, the cosmic rhyme.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part IV
13. The Uncarved Block
In silent Dao, the block remains —
Unshaped by thought, untouched by chains.
The spark resides in primal form,
Before the world began to storm.
No dual edges cut its peace,
No shape nor shadow grants release.
It is the root, the source, the way —
The path beyond the night and day.
14. The One That Is Not Two
The spark transcends the pair of eyes,
Beyond the grasp of truth and lies.
It dwells where opposites dissolve —
Where time and space themselves evolve.
It is the Self beyond the mask,
The breath beyond the mortal task.
As Isvara’s silent stream,
The watcher of the cosmic dream.
15. Neti, Neti — Not This, Not That
The flame burns not in name or frame,
Rejects the grasp of worldly claim.
“Not this, not that,” the sages say —
The spark eludes the light of day.
It slips beyond all thought and form,
In stillness vast, supremely warm.
The witness to the coming dawn,
The endless pulse that carries on.
16. The Wheel of Samsara
Round turns the wheel — the endless dance,
Of birth, of death, of fleeting chance.
Yet in the heart of turning time,
The spark endures — sublime, divine.
Not bound by flesh, nor caught in pain,
It rises ever to regain
The freedom of the primal fire —
The source of all, the pure desire.
17. The Void and the Light
In emptiness, the spark ignites,
A lonely flame beyond all sights.
Not lost within the silent sea,
But glowing with infinity.
The Void contains the spark’s bright call,
The root and end of one and all.
From silence springs the living flame —
And all is one, without a name.
---
Beyond the form, beyond the name,
The spark remains — the endless flame.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part V
18. Eternity’s Pulse
No clock can bind this pulse within,
No edge of time, no loss, no win.
It beats beyond the measured frame —
A fire eternal, without name.
It flows like rivers deep and vast,
Through futures, present, and the past.
Unbroken thread that holds the whole,
The boundless rhythm of the soul.
19. Consciousness Beyond Form
Consciousness — not flesh confined,
Nor trapped within the realm of mind.
A silent sea without a shore,
Unfolding ever, evermore.
No space contains its boundless sweep,
No time can chain the thoughts it keeps.
It dwells beyond the seen and known,
The stillness in the vast unknown.
20. The Light Within
Not candlelight, nor starry glow,
But inner fire that none can show.
A lamp that burns without a flame,
A light that whispers no one’s name.
It guides the seeker through the night,
Beyond the veil, beyond the sight.
A beacon in the soul’s deep sea,
The spark that sets the spirit free.
21. The Unbroken Flame
Though worlds may shift and shadows fall,
This flame persists beyond them all.
No force can dim its sacred fire —
A living, endless, pure desire.
It is the self that does not fade,
The root of light that can’t be swayed.
The silent heart that beats within,
The source from which all life begins.
22. The Infinite Present
Eternity is not “far” away,
Nor locked in some distant day.
It pulses in this very breath,
The timeless now that conquers death.
To find the spark, you need but cease
To chase the past or grasp for peace.
The infinite unfolds inside —
Where light and dark and time collide.
---
Within the stillness, light remains —
Eternal spark beyond all chains.
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Metaphysics of the Inner Light
1. Light does not burn — it simply is.
It neither comes nor goes — it is always within.
2. True fire is not flame, but a wave of consciousness without bounds.
3. The inner light is the primal source, toward which all paths lead.
4. Silence is the realm where light unfolds in fullness.
5. The light inside does not depend on external shadows.
6. Consciousness is a boundless sea, where the spark is eternal.
7. Truth is not in words, but in the light that needs no language.
8. Emptiness is not absence, but the density of inner light.
9. Eternity is a moment illuminated by the spark of consciousness.
10. Freedom is the awareness of the light within, beyond time’s grasp.
11. The spark knows no fear — it is the source of infinite power.
12. The inner fire awakens the deepest layers of being.
13. Darkness does not oppose light — it is its background and space for shining.
14. The light within us is the bridge between the finite and the infinite.
15. Every breath is a step into the immensity of inner light.
16. The fire of consciousness is an eternal dance of form and void.
17. The present is the light that always burns in you.
18. The flame of the spirit cannot be extinguished by time or circumstance.
19. Inner light is the only reality — unchanging and eternal.
20. Rebirth begins with the awakening of the spark inside.
