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bc moon raven Oct 2018
Growling and hissing, a storm formed along the road, portending the merging of the chaos that had been gripping our minds for months.  This day, this type of day, we could have dreamed up in the novel of our love affair.  The conversation along our drive into the country was as full and ***** as all other tête-à-têtes shared in our two months together.  We were never at a loss for words and his conversation had been more educated than the older men I had dated since the divorce.  I was forever astonished at him and with him.  

The first time I met him, I was sitting behind my desk and planning for another monotonous day of office politics and all the drama connected.  Lost in thought, I sipped coffee and read emails until, there was - him.  He opened my office door with such fervor and drama, I knew someone had just entered into my life that would leave me forever changed, and I welcomed it.  A mess of auburn hair, neither combed nor styled and yet quite fitting, haloed around his head and gave the visage of an angel.  He had a freckled nose and cheeks with blue eyes staring from behind all that wildness and they were the only calming feature about him.  I turned my head and grimaced a bit, “how dare someone charge into my office as if to own it”.  “How can I help you?” made its way from my lips with a bit of a sigh.  And he smiled, that smile which would make his face even younger and more deceptively angelic.  

“Hello” danced off his lips and in two syllables was able to sound singsong and my anger soon turned to anticipation.  He introduced himself as Parker and explained his new position as Junior Editor.  He went on to say someone instructed him to introduce himself to me since I was Senior Project Manager for the organization.  His fervent entrance into my office had sent a gush of wind that disheveled my tidy desk and his wide blue eyes looked around at the chaos he had rendered.  He seemed unable to offer apologies, and I soon learned this was his way.  His confident facade prevented admission of mistakes and the word “sorry” could not escape the tightness of his will to be correct.  This was my lover’s way and it was the structure built that only wrecking ***** could destroy.

As is expected of me, I extended my hand to welcome him, overmuch aware of my grip and strength in presenting my hand, I felt the need to dominate the grip.  I was a woman in a senior position inside the male dominated echelon of upper management.  I took his hand and with rehearsed quickness attempted to demonstrate my dominance, my superiority.   It was then, the first time I saw a devil behind his angelic face and I remember my expression churned up my secret thoughts.  He saw my eyes searching those thoughts and delight shone from his blue eyes like cold fire and I was burned.   Our hands soon contorted into a dance of dominance with fingers twisting as if in a finger shadow play.  No time for games or plays for control, I simply took the shake he offered and turned towards my coffee, my drama, my emails and without looking at him welcomed him again and gave a wave of dismissal.  He greeted my brush-off with a laugh and made his way to the chair in front of my desk.  He was tall and the light from behind silhouetted his broad shoulders and upright posture.  He was confident and sure.  His clothes were expensive, well-tailored and not at all the measure for his age.  He had a style about him and I believe it came as naturally to him as did the confidence in which he clothed himself.

I wanted to be angry at his overconfidence, his interruption, his disregard.  I was, instead, amused but annoyed.  He sensed he was beginning to irritate me and it seemed to delight him.  He would speak without taking a breath, eager to finish his thoughts, aware perhaps that time could steal the moment away and he would forever wonder.  He spoke with an accent I did not fully recognize and attempted to invite me to lunch or even coffee.  My lover was bold.  

I was succeeding in this corporate world, my world.  I was not ready to lose my focus for a moment alone with the delightful creature staring back at me, awaiting the “yes” he expected would be my answer.  He was a man who did not accept the “no’s”.    He would get what he wanted and would wait in predator mode until his prey was wounded, weak, ready.  He was not a predator in the malevolent sense, more in the need for survival mentality.  He would lift the wounded and weak above the limits of their afflictions and a “yes” would flow from their lips in fond gratitude.  Today I was not a “yes” and it did not feel like a final answer.  Somehow, I knew one day I would be naked with this man, my lover.  I knew I would take him inside me, and he would show me how to love in ways I had never known.  The “no’ and the explanations of the “no” exuded from my lips, and I could see him grow even more eager to know me.  He would learn the stories of my life from rumors and talk.  He would learn of my divorce, of the men I dated with expensive homes and cars.  He would hear about the occasional woman who would occupy my bed.   I had wished all of it to be true but only the divorce was correct.  I was not exceptional or exciting.  I was driven and focused.  

He stood there hearing my “no” with the sun behind him igniting the fire in his hair with his shoulders pinned back exposing his sculpted chest.  He stood there and allowed the silence after my rejection to hover the room, and there it was.  We locked eyes, and neither could emancipate from the other.  I wondered who he was and what he looked like naked in the morning with his disheveled hair, and we stared, locked in our gaze until my phone rang signaling the end of round one.  

Wrapped in my shawl, I moved between sipping coffee, as was my usual, and typing on my laptop.  He was behind me in the cabin.  I felt him approaching and knew he would quickly whisk me away from the overwhelming din of office emails and calls.  His presence behind me now was no longer disquieting but natural.  

The cabin had been his grandfathers and he had a noticeable pride about it when showing me through the door and gateway to his childhood memories.  He had a smile on his face I had never seen.  I delighted in how young it made his face appear, almost as if the childhood memories possessed him and he became the blithe youth here with his grandfather.  


It was fall at the cabin and the smell of musk and rotting leaves and ozone from the storm, filled the cabin and each deep breath was taking in a memory from my youth.   I was happy to be here with him and yet afraid.  Two months we flirted and touched over our shared lunches, eager to get inside each other physically, mentally.  The office was replete with stories of the happenings between the older woman executive and the younger up and coming man, how he must be using her to advance his career and how she was using him to heal the wounds of her recent divorce.  We heard these stories and watched them grow to the point we ended our touching, our flirting.  Soon the denial of our feelings and time apart turned to foreplay.  Soon there were stares across conference rooms, perceptive smiles as we crossed paths.  The total of it led us to this moment, to time alone together for the first time, this time.  

Fall in the country was the vangaurd to a glorious death.  The earth would explode with color announcing its final breath and moment upon the stage and we had arrived during the final bow and curtain call.  Trees draped in gold - and red - and orange heralded the fire to come and we too were ready to pour forth in glorious blaze and inferno.  During the entire ride into the country an ironical mist of dew and rain dotted the windshield as if nature attempted to douse the desires clawing to escape in each other’s arms.  There was a devil sitting next to me and I had to smile as his auburn hair blended so naturally with the landscape.  I was obviously lost in thought and he looked at me and asked if I was okay.  Him next to me, him crookedly smiling at me.  

“It’s nothing.  It’s just nice to see you in your element.”  My replay was short but my heart was beating so hard I was almost afraid he could see it bouncing behind my blouse, so I began to cover up but was met with his hand before I even reached the edge of my coat.  

“No.  I want to see you.”  His voice was soft but demanding and strong.  Often there were hints of a struggle for power between us.  His youth and position within the company prevented me from accepting his seriousness and his face would ***** into a grimace.  I never gave it much thought other than a bit of a nuisance.  His hand led mine to my lap, and I expected him to hold it, but he let go with a smile.  I enjoyed his show of power but refused to reveal a glint of it for fear I would lose the respect and control necessary over a subordinate.

Soon the cabin filled with the sounds of rain and thunder and as I stared out the window jealous of the drops of rain and their randomness, he touched my shoulder and looked down at me with his eyes bluer than wild lupine.  I smiled a painful smile and he knew I was overthinking the moment.  Taking my hand, he brought me to his chest and into his arms, arms that would embrace all of me and at times felt as if they could wrap around me twice.  I placed my head on his chest and began to reach for his belt.  The *** I had known was always routine.  This was expected, that was not allowed.  I fell into that routine naturally and was happy to oblige his needs in order to meet mine.  He kissed my forehead and still holding one hand, led me to the door of the cabin.  “What are we do…”  He stopped me with a single “shhh” from his lips.  I followed him and felt myself shiver.  I was not sure if I was shivering in fear or from the nip of fall air.  

“Don’t be afraid.  You have nothing to fear from me.  There’s no need to shiver my little poppet.”  He stepped back from me and stared as if I were a tiny bird in need of nestling back into its home.  “I’ve never seen you afraid.”  He touched my cheek and I felt so small and helpless, lost from home, and he was the only way back.  With a smile he took my hand and led me outside to the rain, lifting his face and savoring the drops bouncing off his cheeks.  

“W..w..what are you doing?”  I was trembling now and wondered if I had misjudged this man and he was in fact a lunatic ready to strangle me to my death.  My silk blouse, now drenched, clung to my ******* exposing an imprint of lace from my bra.  He reached for my shawl and pulled it off my shoulders.  He was looking at me so lovingly my body and mind calmed and I was once again in the moment.  Our moment.  This moment.  

His face, stern now, official, his mouth opening with such deliberateness that I was sure he had been in this situation before.  Once again my mind wanted to race to thoughts of not being good enough or that I was too old or too plain.  His voice pierced my thoughts and brought me to attention.  “There will be no talking unless I tell you to.  Nod if you understand”

My mind wanted to slap him with reminders of my superiority to him at work, how he was MY subordinate and how dare he.  My mouth would not open and my head began to nod in understanding.  My body and mind were bending to his will and acting upon his orders.  Shivering gave way to shaking now and I wanted to run to the warmth of the cabin and watch the fire burn the logs to a black crisp and wake up in his arms naked and giggling.  

Having seen my compliant nod, he began to speak.  “Undress.”  One word.  One word in response to the shaking mess of a woman standing in the rain, cold and afraid.  My hands were barely able to form the necessary movements to reach for the top button of my blouse.  I did not want to fail him or appear as if I were unfamiliar with tales of ***** men overpowering and having their way with a willing lover.  My fingers moved quickly now, wanting to end the scene and move on to the *******.  He stared.  He did not blink.  He did not nod or move.  He was enjoying every subtlety of me.  He was pleased.   I was a willing participant in his fantasy.  Nothing made me happier than to please him.  I began to feel hot and something inside me broke.  Was it my will, my pride, my fears?  I was not sure, but I felt alive.  Every thirsty pore of my skin opened up and lapped at the rain so very eager to feel it on my skin and the randomness of the drops was no longer something I envied but something in which I participated.  

My hands began to tug my blouse free from my skirt and the wet silk now draped over my hips like curtains, revealing the curves I was so painfully aware of hiding to keep anyone from noticing my *** and concentrate upon my words and actions.  I knew now I had one button remaining before I would, for the first time, display myself to him.  He did not flinch, rather, he maintained his stare and for a second I pleaded to him with my eyes not to expect me to do this.  He was resolute.  I spread open the soft, wet cloth and began to drape it off my shoulders.  I let it slide from my wrists, then fingertips, then to the ground blissfully unconcerned that my Hermes blouse was now draped over wet grass and mud.  

I looked down at my skin dripping and alive with goosebumps.  I had bought this bra in anticipation of this moment, in fear of this moment.  White lace bra and perfectly matched ******* were demonstrative of my control over even the small details.  My skirt was loose and heavy with the rain.  It was low on my waist and lay just below the navel leaving me the most exposed I had ever been with him.  I reached to touch the button on the back of my skirt.  Undone, I slipped my fingers along with the zipper feeling each click of the tiny teeth holding together the disguise of a powerful woman.  My hands traced the banded edge of the skirt pushing it over my hips allowing it to fall to the ground.  

His face looked stern but pleased, stoic and fixed.  I was in my bra, ******* and stilettos now.  I began to reach for the hinged part of my bra when he stopped me.  “No.  Stop.” He walked over to me.  He was close now and I was so cold I could feel heat from his body.  I wanted to kiss his lips, his full lips, but I did not move.  I knew now the rules and I would do only what was asked of me.  I stood rigid with no flinching.  I waited for any words that would pass from lips to ear.  He did not speak but leaned into me and reached over my right shoulder undoing the chignon in my hair.  He draped my shoulders with strands of liquid filament.  He took his time there, placing each strand in the exact order in which he was pleased.  With two steps back, he looked at my wet hair with the deliberate strands, as if he had created a masterpiece and for a moment I was unsure if the artwork he saw was me or his work.  

“Now be still.  Allow me to touch you, to admire you, my beautiful Moira.”  When he said my name even after these two months, he had the ability of saying it as if he were speaking it in serenade and for the first time.  He moved his hands to my back and unlinked my bra, one hook at a time with such dexterity I knew he must be a professional at *******.  He, who was to be my first professional lover.  He slid both straps off my shoulders, then taking my hands towards my abdomen, he slid the straps forward on my arms.  Lifting my hands, he demanded I keep them out and straight.  Me, the student to the professional, complied without question.  He bound my wrists with the lace bra, the bra I had bought just to please him, then lifted my arms above my head.  “You will keep your hands up until I tell you to move.”

I had become his toy.  I knew in this moment, I no longer existed for me, I was his, completely and entirely, and I abandoned myself to the rain, to the cold, to his gaze, realizing that surrendering to his urges strengthened me.  He turned and walked away.  He took a seat in an Adirondack chair and even it looked small in his presence.  “On your elbows and knees,” he spoke matter-of-factly.  Just five minutes ago, the struggle inside me to have the appearance of strength, would have denied me this happiness, this happiness to be free in his command.  “Now crawl to me, please.  Slowly.”

I did not care to be in the mud.  I wanted it.  I wanted to please him.  First to my knees, leaving an indention in the clay, then awkwardly at first, onto my elbows with my hands still tied at the wrist.  Crawling on my elbows, my back was arched with my waist higher than my head, giving him a view of the thong I had chosen only for this moment, my succeeding moment.  My position felt ungainly.  I looked to his face for approval.  “No.  You cannot look at me”, he commanded.  For a moment I felt I had lost his approval and self-doubt harried my brain.  My will to please was resolute.  I faced the ground, once again aware of the randomness of nature, the power of nature, how things in nature will do as they are told.  The reed is told to bend.  It does.  It does not question why but responds in its way.  Rivers do not question why they are shaped.  They just continue with powerful current.  I was the reed.  I was the river.  I did not question.

Face towards the ground, I could see the mud forming on my body, molding to my shape then rinsing with the rain.  It repeated.  Mud.  Rain.  Mud.  Rain.  This was the cadence to my crawl.  I arrived at his knees and waited there, a dog eager for a command from its master.  I was content to watch the rain beat ripples around his feet, splashing and shining his shoes with glossy drops.  “I cannot love you”, I thought to myself, “this is forbidden”.  “Being here in this moment, is forbidden.” We would have this moment.  Yes.  We could create this memory and think back on it in fondness and with both heaviness and happiness.  I would remember my young lover, my professional lover.  He would remember the obedient executive on her knees.  I would not regret our moment.  I would some day write it all down in my journal and press the pen deep into the paper.  It had to be etched, those words, my words, this memory.

His hand below my chin, lifted my gaze to his and he smiled, that smile, his smile, the smile that was like nature to my body, and I did not ask why.  I was a river being formed.  “You are so beautiful.  All of you.  Your skin so soft and pale.  Your eyes moving from fear to acceptance.  I see now you want to please me and I want you to know that I want to make you happy.  I want to be your lover.  I want to taste your lips kissed with rain and feel your shivering body pulled against me.  You are safe.  I will not hurt you.  Poppet.  I love you.  I have for awhile now, and I think you know it.  You, my wise, wise Moira.”  He lifted me up and for a moment pulled my body towards him burying his face in my abdomen.  He lingered there.  I felt how soft his red tufts of hair were and how soft his words were against my ears.  I loved him too.  Genuinely.  Profoundly.  I was afraid.

He inhaled deeply, there against my stomach, as if he were breathing in my essence.  I felt his breath turn from warm to cold against me as it mixed with rain.  He stretched his arms and moved my body backwards as he extended until I was a foot away from him.  “I would very much like to undress you, poppet.  I’ve been imagining it, aching for it.  I want to see all of you, naked and on display.”  He touched my abdomen with the tips of his fingers, as if afraid the pale china of my skin would disintegrate into a misty dream.  I relished it, the touch of him against parts of me he had not known.  I was always able to keep him at a distance, physically.  His hands traced the edge of my *******.  He moved slowly, and I knew he was wanting to etch this memory into his journal.  Nothing less than ink pressed hard to paper would release this memory to time.  His placed his hands on my hips and spun me around, my thong lining up with his gaze.  “Bend over.”  His voice from sweet to demanding again.

My hands were still bound, and I stumbled at first.  He seemed not to notice or to care, so I arched my back and pushed myself outward and into his view.  I felt his hands move from my thighs to my hips as gentle as summer winds that in their seductiveness turn our faces towards the impact.  I was in my forties and unsure how I would compare to the twenty-year-old’s he was known to date.  The gossip left nothing to imagination and everything to speculation.  My mind had conjured images of him, this professional lover, inside the firm thighs of a youthful companion.  Thoughts transformed to pleasure as the nature that was his hands took dominance over the thin lace that hid the only piece of me left unseen.  I became art in his hands, marble statue, exquisite with textures and curves wanting to be touched.  

The lace scraped my skin as he slid the *******, wet and splashed with earth, over the expanse of my hips and down to the ground at my ankles.  “Step out of them.”  He helped free my ankles, and I saw the delicate lace become one with the earth as the rain beat it into the mud.  This was freedom.  This was me with nature, me with my lover.  I was the reed and he was the wind.  

I was keenly aware of his eyes fixated on the valley of my mound, how my cheeks spread just enough to give hints of the pinkest of my flesh, now swollen and ripe.  “Turn around.”  I heard his voice and could tell the bombardment of rain was making it difficult to speak.  

I turned and began to ***** my body when I felt his hand on my back.  “No, poppet.  You must stay this way until I say stand.”  My body ached to be touched by him, by more than fingers and hands, but this, the anticipation, the wanting of it all, this was the skill of a professional lover.  I saw the earth drowned with a thick layer of rain now, and my shoes made splatters and ripples as I turned towards him.  I was cold now, too cold, unaware cold, numb in my cold.  I was happy to feel it.  I had for too long hid from rain, this glorious rain.  Now, I was one with the rain.  I was the river coursing its path as commanded by nature.  

He took my hands and untied them.  I watched the entire progression of it and I felt his presence now even more.  My hands were free, and I stared at my shoes and his shoes.  I was so small in his presence.  “Stand for me, poppet.”  His voice diffused through the rain and seemed softer now.  I stood there in my nakedness and he delighted in it.  My lover was not afraid and moved his head along with his eyes.  It was easy to know where upon my body his gaze had landed.  He seemed to linger the most on my face, and I thought how odd it was as most men concentrated on my ******* or mound.  My lover was different.  My lover was professional.

“Poppet, I want you to remove my shirt, but you will not toss it to the ground.  You will place it on the chair.  Nod if you understand me.”  He knew I understood but was confirming I was still in the moment and willing.  I obliged him with a nod and without looking at his face, began to unbutton each dot from its hole until he was shirtless before me.  His chest was firm and hairless and dotted with unobtrusive freckles as random as the rain.  I was delighted.  He was beautiful.  My lover was beautiful.

He placed one hand on my head, the other on my shoulder.  “On your knees for me, poppet.”  My knees once again bent for him, and I knelt in the rain, the thick rain and saw my knees again molded in the mud and earth.  I was unsure now.  Years had passed since I had taken a man inside my mouth.  I felt panic, like the river, run a course through me and I started to turn away.  But I was resolute.  “I will make him happy in all things this day” rang in my ears like a mantra.  I watched as he undid his belt and felt it as he wrapped it around my neck two times and pulled the loose end until it was taut but not constricted against my skin.  I was his.  I was the pet and he was the master.  It was official to me now in this symbol.  I was leashed and about to be tamed.  My lover was going to teach me his skill.  I was delighted.

I watched him free the one button on his pants and move to the patterned teeth of the zipper.  He rested his pants on his hips and pulled free the thing, that thing, the thing I was craving.  The thing I would take inside me, deep inside wherever my master wanted it.  I was the river.  

He was not large, not small, but thick, surprisingly thick, he was swollen and vascular.  I studied the curve of it.  The tip, the head.  I watched his hand grip it and move it towards my lips.  I opened my mouth and took him inside me.  He moved his hands to the sides of my head and began to direct me in the movement he needed from me.  I studied the thrusts and followed.  I moved my tongue, my eager tongue, in unison with the rain and percussion of the drops.  I slid him deep inside me devouring and savoring the taste of him.  The taste of my lover was satisfying, and I wanted to bring him to completion there in that moment.

We stayed in the rhythm, with the rain, both lost to the moment.  He stopped his ****** and lifted my chin.  “Moira.  My poppet.”  He led me to my feet and gave his crooked smile to me.  He gave me his smile in that moment, in that second, his smile was mine.  

“I love you”, I whispered, unsure he heard me.  He lifted me like a child and carried my nakedness to the bed.  He placed me there, like a doll.  He contemplated my skin in the light of the fire.  My lover the wind.  My lover the water.  

He was soon naked and drops of rain lit up on his body like little mirrors and I could see images of the room and myself reflected in them.  He removed the belt from my neck.  “We won’t need this.  In this moment, you know you are mine.  You know I am yours.”  We both wrapped our arms around the other, and I felt his skin on mine.  His body was hard and moved in perfect form with each muscle flinching the way it should, each squeeze and release in harmony with the other.  My pale, soft skin was beautiful contrast to his and was yin and yang.  He felt hard and long inside me, so engorged each vein touched the inside of me in a different fashion.  We each sealed our mouth on the other unable to drink as deeply as we wanted.  We were in our moment, this moment.  Alive in the seconds that passed to hours.  We were ready to etch ink on the pages telling of how I was the reed and he was the wind and on this day, I did not ask why, I only did as was I was told.
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats through unseen among us,—visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer winds that creep from flower to flower,—
Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower,
It visits with inconstant glance
Each human heart and countenance;
Like hues and harmonies of evening,—
Like clouds in starlight widely spread,—
Like memory of music fled,—
Like aught that for its grace may be
Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery.

Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrate
With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon
Of human thought or form,—where art thou gone?
Why dost thou pass away and leave our state,
This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?
Ask why the sunlight not for ever
Weaves rainbows o’er yon mountain-river,
Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown,
Why fear and dream and death and birth
Cast on the daylight of this earth
Such gloom,—why man has such a scope
For love and hate, despondency and hope?

No voice from some sublimer world hath ever
To sage or poet these responses given—
Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven,
Remain the records of their vain endeavour,
Frail spells—whose uttered charm might not avail to sever,
From all we hear and all we see,
Doubt, chance, and mutability.
Thy light alone—like mist oe’er the mountains driven,
Or music by the night-wind sent
Through strings of some still instrument,
Or moonlight on a midnight stream,
Gives grace and truth to life’s unquiet dream.

Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart
And come, for some uncertain moments lent.
Man were immortal, and omnipotent,
Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art,
Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart.
Thou messgenger of sympathies,
That wax and wane in lovers’ eyes—
Thou—that to human thought art nourishment,
Like darkness to a dying flame!
Depart not as thy shadow came,
Depart not—lest the grave should be,
Like life and fear, a dark reality.

While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped
Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin,
And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing
Hopes of high talk with the departed dead.
I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed;
I was not heard—I saw them not—
When musing deeply on the lot
Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing
All vital things that wake to bring
News of birds and blossoming,—
Sudden, thy shadow fell on me;
I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy!

I vowed that I would dedicate my powers
To thee and thine—have I not kept the vow?
With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now
I call the phantoms of a thousand hours
Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers
Of studious zeal or love’s delight
Outwatched with me the envious night—
They know that never joy illumed my brow
Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free
This world from its dark slavery,
That thou—O awful Loveliness,
Wouldst give whate’er these words cannot express.

The day becomes more solemn and serene
When noon is past—there is a harmony
In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been!
Thus let thy power, which like the truth
Of nature on my passive youth
Descended, to my onward life supply
Its calm—to one who worships thee,
And every form containing thee,
Whom, Spirit fair, thy spells did bind
To fear himself, and love all human kind.
Mona Jan 2017
We're sitting next to a sunset,
The weather says how are you today,
Staring at the blue horizon,
For a moment you thought it'd stay,
But then it leaves like it always does,
And all the blue birds learn to fly,
Fueled by a sinking fear,
That they might disappear into the night,
When was the last time,
That it was okay, to be so juvenile,
A word lost in a closed book,
To judge life by a cover so beautiful.

We sat and talked in the looming warmth,
The sun's not gone, the waters are blue,
Tracing the peaceful tracks in our mind,
Twilight's shadow cast over the greys we drew,
And the dream was looped,
It started from the beginning every few seconds,
Dooming truths as illusions in this world,
Where memories are made from our favorite color palettes,
But oh sleep unlinked our hands,
As it branched into the shades of morning,
Once again your hair covered your face,
And our days went back to their habit of forking.*

● ● ●
Eryck May 2018
When I was younger:
   I shuffled along,
to no urgent song,
didn't march through my day strong. When young and strong are the best time for planned  convictions.
There's no acting lazy, or slowing down to the crazy, unless you want to live ungracefully in this hard unforgiving world.
When I was younger:
   I lacked logic cause I didn't make clear my premise,
like a man with no plan, a sap with no map.  I wandered tither and yonder like a ghoal  without a goal, a ghost least of most,  no future to ponder.
When I was younger:
   I bogged down in metaphorical feces cause I didn't watch where I was wading, forsaking and debating, planning is for suckers, futures are for chuckers.
When I was younger:
   I did nil and stood still while the city raced around me, progress to astound thee, forgetting the earth constantly rotates 260 miles an hour- waiting for no one.
When I was younger:
   Like the Dodo bird I forgot to grow wings, was eatin by rats and things, became extinct and unlinked to a place run on business, consumerism and cash. On the rocks I was dashed.
When I was younger:
I became he who loses, with a broken compass and excuses, laying laggardly leaderless, with the snoozing and the boozing, and sold my initiative for a bag of grass.
That's when I was younger:
   I'm older than that now.  But I still remember. It's  hard being younger!!
Stephanie Oct 2018
Pale faced
I spoke the words
That would
Cut

I watched you collapse
Into yourself
Watched your world
Crumble
And I
I felt
A world
Expand

I didn’t know how much I cared
On behalf of you
Looking into your darkness
Wanting to take it away
I see now that I helped
Lead you there
Into your destruction

You are faced with terror now
And I am faced with the joy
and sorrow
Of a chain
Unlinked

There’s a numbness
An aloneness
A shock
A confusion
A fear
All hovering around my body
At once protecting me
and preventing me
from knowing how to move
Beyond each
Next
Step

You believe this is betrayal
Abandonment
I believe this is the greatest act
Of love

Freedom
AprilDawn Jun 2018
fans blowing
all around me  
little bits of light
peaking around   corners
of the room
keeping it from
pitch black
blanket toss tango
piled between us
too hot
too cold
tired
just
not sleepy
myriad of sensations
magnified in a wakeful state
knots on the fabric of the sheets
didn’t I just buy these?
my knee hurts
is this a hot flash?
random unlinked thoughts
dance through my mind
as light rhythmic snoring
serenades me
from the other side
of the bed
turns into my lullaby
and I fade out ….
late spring nights, uncomfortably warm , a partner who snores ...but it's ok ...music to my ears apparently!  !
Away with Words Dec 2024
On these pages: a story writ.
Not lines of love, near opposite.
With wicked words, bursting seams.
and pictures ripped from horror scenes.

This transcript: tallied tragedy
seemed clear, at first, of trickery
such that I said, with full belief:

“I simply bought a book,

simply bought a simple book

bought a simple book this early morn.”

Nary a choice did I resent
more than my steps up staircase bent.

Had I known what fate was in store,
I would’ve stopped short of the door
and listened to my heart’s retort
turn my back to oaken boards;
neglect to knock, proceed no more.

Alas, the wiser choice did seem
like foreign words I could not read
a weaker foe to curiosity.
Thus on the door, my knocks numbered three.

On portal’s edge, the wait did seem
a lifetime spent, eternity.
Heard racing heart, mistakening
its pounding pulse for echoed feet.

A lock’s release, my wait was for;
an unlatched, oaken, ornate door.
As portal opened to the store,
of echoed feet, I thought  no more.  


Creaking hinges, a'rust with age
made way for shopkeep's leathered face.
His cobwebbed volumes filled the space
and gave the air a smell and taste.

My steps were slow; I didn’t know
what book, which nook, my search was for.
So I walked the aisles, for a while.

‘Till a hidden book stood out

A hidden nook stood out

A hidden book’s nook stood out.

Into that nook, up to that book
my outstretched arms raised hands that shook.

But now I see that I was blind
to evil glint in shop-keep's eye,
and how my steps had crossed the line,
but like a fool who pays no mind,
I gripped book's spine, as chill gripped mine.

Alas, Where once I felt so free
that “simple” book imprisoned me!
Looking back, it's plain to see:
Text locked the door, and tossed the keys.

On portal’s edge, I sat a spell,
For front my eyes, world turned to hell.
Clocktower bells rang out death knells,
Mixed metaphor with sulphured smells.

A lock released, an op'ning door;
Followed by sounds I can't ignore
As I walked home amid the storm,
of echoed feet, I thought once more.


What harkened there, shadowed so?
It made no noise; I didn't know.
and so my steps fell soft as snow,          
heard silence then, and nothing more.

Was it the shopkeep, hidden there?
In darkness deep, 'thought saw his glare
and so I turned, searching, scared.

Nought, I saw, in darkness there

Nought, eyes spied, no shadows spared.

Nought, my cry left my fear bared:

"I face you now, as friend or foe!
Why you hide yours, I do not know."

So still, the shadow stayed its frame..
As if it played a hidden game.
Its outline froze; it seemed so strange,
Besot', I sought the shadow’s name
but to my ears came only rain.

Alas, light passed, lit up the space
where I expected a strange face,
but to my shock, in revealed place
was only water, reflecting face

On puddle’s edge, I searched the grass,
only found water, still as glass
Just as I thought, "This fog won't pass,"
my clouded mind came clear at last.

A calming breeze cleared my mind's haze.
To self, I said, "If blindly brave...
I'll sell tomorrow to yesterday,
risk retrospect of future fate."


Thus I thought a tale would end,
The book, or life? I can't portend.
Post-curse, I'm worse for wear, my friend!
Now words alone don’t serve to mend.

I turned a page into the book,
and as before, my hands, they shook,
The leaves were blank! Was I mistook?

No words were writ, the pages, bare.

No words to read, no lines to share.

No words to see, then one appeared!

A balked belief, before my eyes
That ghost-writ word was leading lines!

and so I read,  still scanning script
'scarce skipping stanzas, none I missed.
I turned more pages, teeth a’grit...
Falt’ring, failing to feel my  fits.                                            
I couldn’t stop; cease reading it                

Alas, time passed, still keeping speed
words filled white pages, enrapt I read
How does this work? What’s it all mean?                  
Why was the cursive cursing me?

On pages’ end, the words did seem  
a lifetime writ, for all to read          
Right from the start, text taunted me    
divined a doom, a destiny

Its pox perceived, print paper flat
I begged the book to take it back    
"Who’s words were those? Who’s fate is that?
Who’s life and death, in white and black?"


Delving deeper desperately
For I felt my future had passed, you see
Living life so longingly
Fearing fated folly, unfortunately.

As I read the book, I took
My final form, ‘spite balance shook.
Lapse living lie; won’t die a crook!

I blinked, unlinked, to weaker chain

I shrinked, to think, of lesser gain

I winked, on brinks, but not insane

So now, my friend, I’ll pen some prose
Dream up new lines; make up new words

Where once I thought that what was writ’
The rise and fall, all of it
Could not be altered, not one bit.
As if in stone, the letters sit!
Lines laying law, commanding it!

But now I face what fate comes forth
Leaving letters forming words with worth
My written rhymes give gallant girth
They sing a ballad; but say one verse.

I put down past, but faced it first
In breaking down, I found what works
I fixed my fate, and shed the curse,
Better for me, but for you, much worse.

The book, this poem share a name.
I thought that fact would make it plain
These wicked words hid horrid hex
now you can’t flee, for you are next!
Inspired by "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
The colors of your memory, you can no longer contrast as they swirl into one another.At times they are vibrant as though you are vividly living them experiencing them,and at times they are dull as though they have faded and been acid washed.

Your past slips into the present and present slips into the past. Some days you love me;as though it was the first time you are holding me in the palms of promises. But there are days when my name never slips your tongue and I am a mere stranger to you.

The memories are no longer stored in your mind, but on gigabytes that I have to play – that has become your storage and retrieval. Your memory has become pixelated, but you can no longer remember them as though it was your own.

Some days you’re on a carousel of memories in your mind; revering and your tongue has forgotten its language. At times you speak eloquently, but at times they are stars that are unlinked and lost. You used to weave constellations but now it’s difficult to put in a thread into the needle.

Thread of your memories begins to wear and the tales woven through ancestry fray with details as the world slips away and the thread unwinds. You try revising the tales, but the thinning at ends of your recollection slowly fades.

The scent infused with ambiance sends echoes of familiar places, resulting in you having spasms of remembrance while the flutters of moth wings beat at the edge of your mind.

There are days when you become a shell of yourself, as your pupils remain fragments detached from reality. I watch you as you wind yourself back in front of my eyes. Ebbing and flowing, freezing and releasing; trying to make sense of the confusion and panic that riles in your mind.

Though you feel, your stars are growing cold and feel like an ethereal that has collapsed, your smile is still the brightest star in the furthest galaxy. It is made of combustion of crimson blue yonder and candy hues.

Though your palms are dreams wrinkled dry, and your memories are falling like baby tooth, as the color of your speech is bleached and you frantically scavenge for memories to ground and make sense - I’ll be there to hold your scattered mind with patience and love you the days you won’t remember me as your own
Nishant Mohan Apr 2015
Shinning disco *****, the glowing blood, fired up adrenaline,
Flying the bird high in the sky, with ray ban, with a Marlboro,
He was no spy,
He was the silent debater with a million wings to fly.

Falling slowly and feebly into the ditch made by you for yourself,
Forever walking with the same speed and a will to never grow beyond that rusted shelf,
Safely to and for the ground stayed tied and glued not a move a skin,
Unknown to the body, the soul is now a rock and the body is unlinked akin,

Feverish, the road led him to this day, to this stage, feeble drifts, and lost all,
Oh stranger, miser or the wiser, you alone have got to be the fighter,
Bring out your best to arrange for a feast,
Greet us with the charm you won in the battle fought against the beast,

The beginning till the end, the narrow to the broad, come may whatever you have raised the cup,
The solo act, the fine performance, and the live stage you have lit up,
All for one and none for the one, the point you’ve made has been registered,
Don't forget the times for the many gatherings you have anchored.
vega Jul 2020
i am tethered to my sickness—
brain worms and implacable affinity
soil and blood like strings on
careful fingers, knitting precariously
the loose ends, every alteration
another implication, pull hard enough
and i am tightly bound to peril
deeply fused into your liquid mercury
insensate though that may be
unliberated; as my mind is a metal can
rust and decay so effervescent
an empty clanking of unlinked adages
circulating alluvial expectations
throughout all of my weeping nerves
and stillness, if i were still able
pain could only wake me for so long
before attachment becomes a
blunted weapon, and your infection, my
bereaved maladaptive paradise.
YY Mar 2019
Stop living up to false enchanted dreams,
Look down from the high beams,
Are you a hunter, or are you a prey?
Don’t let your day to pass away.

Don’t reach for the Moon when you are going to Mars
Its not just some code that is easy parse.
Aim higher then your head,
Wine spilled - it’s cherry-red.

Don't let someone to whisper in your ear,
What's best to do, and when to disappear.
Just follow your instincts,
Your life will be unlinked.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
no new tricks, my fr'en' Jax, he say, you may learn.

did that happen to you? getting old,

did it happen for you?

did you make that happen?

In my youth, I aimed for an end,
then found life goes on
and I asked,
what haps
when you ask
super, but natural, forces,

wind and water, or
sun and soil to be in your favor?

It's like the movies, only you direct the action,

--- ah, rhett or rick,
give a ****, play it again, Sam I am
--- y'lost this trick,
--- this old man came rolling home,
(Sisyphus gimme a shove, from the top)

See ya,
in the funny papers, yeah,
we said that.
wayback when Krazy Kat was gay.


yes ,oh, no, you lost it all.
Life past,

you failed to pay attention,
you ignored the
ignorance growning around you,
as you aged
full of grace, accepting today
as the starting point.

from here you can see forever,
pay attention,
ever learning, never learning
ever

ever, ever, ever this
last bit of what can be known

lost on the info-super-highway that
Al Gore used to make global
warming seem like

some new thing. Old men who paid
attention
never fretted. We remember polio

and marching dimes giving hope a
booster shot on a sugar cube,

love being more than a four rune symbol,
we used to wake
merry boat rowers who believed,
as they were told,
life is a dream to
dread getting old in.

Hear, ol Adam Clayton Powell laff'n'say
"Keep the faith, Baby" then choke on all
the lies he left for a legacy.
He died, maybe never knowin'

what magi know of faith these days.
make note, young dreamer,
Magi and magic shall never be unlinked.
row
row
row, or turn around and flow.
Jax ***** inspired this. Today, all my children and grands are around me, and I am an older man than yesterday, watching a sunrise no man has seen befor me.
Mona Apr 2020
With uncareful watch of the hours,
The night spreads like threads unlinked,
Drawing a comparison about what’s more frightening,
The stillness or the sudden shift.

Laying in a still motion picture,
A million frames of the same fear,
A tailored Bermuda triangle where
Life stops but the arms of every clock disappear.

And you’re left stranded,
With the anticipation of every wrong scenario,
So for today you’ll munch on anxiety for dinner,
‘Cause the face of every tomorrow scares you.

Oh how little you can do in those early AMs,
When both of your hands are cuffed to your insecurities,
And the night is there like a watch guard,
Standing between your panic prison and clarity.

And when desperation comes to join you,
It tells you tales of a monster that preys on time
“Never sleep.” It warns. “It’ll take you to those intimidating mornings,
It will leave you without a dime.”

When all of those night friendly emotions gather,
And drench your gut in their cold foreboding,
You, too, become a silent watcher, dissociated from your body,
Awake, asleep, floating.

Your mind says goodnight with finality,
Not willing to futher succumb to the night,
In the morning you’ll find you some superglue,
To hold together your broken promise to always take your side.
absinthe Feb 2018
a highly praised one
raised right by my homemade love
came to shame the pain we come from

time’s been and still is too tough
i drink enough till i think i’m enough
fill my gut till i’m drunk on your love

just enough
to forgive
my blood

like my heart drops
my tears form clots
and the humming stops

i can’t sink or sing anymore
write or stream my ink anymore
i think it unlinked from my thoughts

i don’t think
i can outrun its bars
my verdict from the world

i’m not what they deserve
vermin in their herd
i heard

im what makes
their perfect
imperfect

so summon my courage
kiss my sober kosher thoughts
till i sink slow to kiss this morbid
ocean floor.
Vaibhavi Joshi Aug 2021
Rewriting the fairy tale
In my own words
Where the prince wanders
To find the Princess.
Where the princess has abandoned everything
Yet they don't end up together
Both the eras were unlinked
Rabiu Ameen May 12
At mercy's feet a coward came
Revoke the spell that brand me shame
Immortal cloak, With cold embrace
Preserve this soul unlinked from grace

Confess thy struggles says the thought
A thousand deeds undo no drought
To wash thy guilt complete with haste
Anoint with almond, pray no waste

(Urge)
A past repeat, if time recall
Invoking every shameful fall
Controlled by lust, my handy deeds
deny this groin, its pleasure needs

(Thought)
Your reckon day, awaits its fate
To settle heaven's pass at gate
by night, an hour of death will prey
it's waste of time to weep and pray
One of my oldest works
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2023
What is the age
of reality itself
Older than
a metaphor
Unreferenced
on a shelf

What is the distance
unmeasured from within
Spoken of
but never seen
A poets
dying whim

What is time uncounted
as numbers lose their clout
The hourglass
returned to sand
An abacus
in doubt

What is love ungifted
but feelings’ last excuse
To roam unlinked
between the chains
And blame it
—on the Muse

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)
World War Three

Hot wars aren’t effective — they fail to erase,
Too few of the people depart from this place.
And the costs are annoying — too messy, too slow
For the ****** who started this genocidal show.

That ghoul of destruction, who plans our collapse,
Who dreams of our ruin, and cackles, perhaps.
A Demon, a Maniac — not men, but pure ****
He recruited as hounds, barking “****!” at his drum.

The first step of this war: contamination —
Toxins in food as a planned operation.
The goal — generations of dumb and insane,
All trapped in illusions and drooling in pain.

For idiots die when you feed them a lie,
First scare them to panic, then kiss them goodbye.
The lie? A fake virus. The truth? Just a jab —
And the chaos is cleansed like filth from a slab.

To fuel this collapse of the world's ugly mess,
Let’s roast their poor brains with a Five-G caress.
Just "signal," they say — but the damage is clear:
You’ll cough out your lungs as it fries your last gear.

Then — chemtrails as weapons, sprayed high in the sky:
Even the strongest will choke, bleed, and die.
And “disinfection” will steam through the air —
Poison the trusting with perfumed despair.

Next — protocols for “healing,” all tweaked:
Even those who recovered — we’ll strike while they’re weak.
From old simple sickness, we'll craft a new blow —
One shot to the chest, and down they will go.

But the kingpin’s the test — it’s deceit in disguise:
You can’t **** them all without blinding their eyes.
We don’t give a **** if bananas test “hot,” —
A virus, you say? We'll say what is what.

We practiced this trick with the legend of AIDS —
Fake tests, real poison — the dead in cascades.
It forged a new Medicine, sinister-bright,
Like SS in scrubs — the same lust for the blight.

And we must place our traitors in all of the halls —
Install them in power, behind all the walls.
They search for the beasts who look human, but lack
Even hints of a soul — they smile, but attack.

They breed these vile creatures — a weapon refined,
Then push them to rise as they bribe and bind.
With rumors of virtue, they tighten the noose,
While keeping them leashed — no chance of a truce.

Demon, subhuman, and filth — that’s the trinity
Dragging the world to a slaughter divinity.
They’ve turned Earth to Hell, and the battle is lost —
We pay for our blindness. They’re counting the cost.

But the few who remain — there’s one path to embrace:
Call down the Sun’s fire — burn out this disgrace.
No matter the pain, or the fear in our chest,
Take demons with us — and give them no rest.

All subhumans will perish, and we shall return,
As Spirit awakened — let falsehoods all burn!
Death is a rumor, a trap they designed,
A lie for control — a chain for the mind.



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




1.
They poison, they burn, they inject us with lies —
Then mourn the “deceased” with dead, plastic eyes.

2.
A jab, a lie, a Five-G beam —
Welcome, fool, to the butcher’s dream.

3.
The Demon smiles — the cattle kneel.
Their death is called “the greater heal.”

4.
Call down the fire, no mercy, no pause —
Burn down the beast with its venomous laws.

5.
The final war is waged through screens —
With syringes, freaks, and toxic genes.



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



The Human Malfunction

A few crude parts in a rigid routine —
That’s the machine of this world, obscene.
We glimpse it all in a flash of light —
In moments of Truth. And They are the Might.

The driving force? Some hollow themes,
That shape this circus of walking dreams.
Hell, it seems, is the global plan —
Or a madhouse ruled by the idiot clan.

"You're just a body" — that's the key.
Scare them enough — and the world bows to thee.
This filthy beast has played this game
Till the Earth itself forgot its name.

Images empty, choices thin,
Stupid thoughts spinning within.
While anxiety rips through every soul —
The beast fights ***** — that's its role.

Same stupid thoughts — like a looped cassette,
Repeat till the brain’s a soaking net.
And so the "hard worker" rules by dread —
Running from truths that scream in his head.

Clutter your mind with mindless grime —
Escape the thought of your measured time,
Of the filthy larva that sets your fate —
And thus, the child learns to obey hate.

And grown-up kids — they march in hell,
Proud little scouts, taught to rebel
Against themselves by school and job,
While the zombie-screen begins to throb.

The worst of all weapons in this vile range
Is the one that makes good minds deranged.
You'll get no truth — just sly deceit
From demons smiling in your seat.

It's all fake thoughts and scattered lies,
A whirl of shards before your eyes.
The mad kaleidoscope never stops —
The filth spins faster till reason drops.

Schizophrenia. Dumbed-down brains.
The system runs on toxic chains.
Food is poisoned — so they erode
Faster and cleaner. Just give it a load.

Fake science paints this plastic realm,
With devils high upon the helm.
And Spirit erased from the master's frame —
The world became a latrine of shame.

For morons they built their holy fraud —
Religion absurd, insulting God.
Official chains on Spirit’s neck —
It’s nearly killed in this mental wreck.

Lies rule here — lies are grace,
They’re sold as progress in your face.
But Hell, not "spiritual trial", is this —
Few survive such an abyss.

“Smart” folks tinker with dead ideas,
Shifting blame to fake frontiers.
The beast must always redirect
To new scapegoats — that’s the trick.

It rules through splits, through made-up foes,
It plants division and reaps our woes.
It aims to rot the Spirit’s root —
And if we sleep — it bears no fruit.

So step outside this loop of pain.
Go inward first — through fire and strain.
Only with Truth can these plagues be healed —
The coming battle has not been sealed.

The beast is the enemy. Search for the key
To wipe this horror from all we see.
If all were in Spirit — it wouldn’t be hard.
Strengthen the Spirit. Stand on guard.



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




1.
You're not a soul — just meat, they preach.
Then sell you fear. Then pull the switch.

2.
Lies spin fast in the circus of pain.
The beast calls that “a human brain.”

3.
Truth is the weapon. Spirit — the shield.
Without that fire, the world must yield.



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



"Ideologies" — So-Called

These filthy “ideologies” we’re fed,
Were born from Satan’s twisted head.
They rule dumb flocks with puppet strings —
All nations fake — all fascist things.

There is a center. One dark hive,
Where every “ism” comes alive.
Their main agenda, through and through:
To castrate Souls — erase the True.

To do that, “knowledge” must be chained,
And fake “science” globally ingrained.
The Holy Spirit — gagged and torn,
The sacred gap now grows forlorn

Between what’s real — the Spirit’s flame,
And this fake world — a shadow-game.
Evil wins without one blade —
Just press of lies — and truth will fade.

Next step? Invent a newspeak tongue:
“We’re slaves to words,” said Marx once young.
It storms the mind — a brutal blast —
Until the Purest Flame won’t last.

Then numbers, metrics, “facts” galore —
Ram them down throats forevermore.
Their verbal circus, cold and sly,
Becomes the blade we live and die.

Charts, equations, pseudo-claims —
A flood of **** in data frames.
With just one gang, the world they choke —
Each “country” just a running joke.

Divide the masses, turn them wild —
Each “ideology” defiled.
They feed the mob with myths and slime —
Just whispered suggestions dressed as “mind.”

Language itself is their device,
If all foundations melt like ice.
You are a Soul — a willful breath —
Forget that truth, you march to death.

Round and round in the wheel you spin —
The system grinds your blood and skin.
Two worlds as one — both crush and flay,
Till you’re a beast with thought stripped away.

School’s been crafted by this plague —
A killing belt for soul and spark.
They mask it all with laughs and gags,
And myths of “errors” in the dark.

The worms dig deep, they drain your core,
Then toss your husk onto the floor.
And husks walk proud, with zeal they serve
The super-slavery they preserve.

The lies grow louder — now complete.
They flood the ears with sewer heat.
Only one force runs this domain —
Infernal Rule, and devil’s chain.

If you were yourself, you’d hear your soul —
Its call, its fire, would take control.
But lies infect the spirit’s well,
With “holy” chains that smell like Hell.

From speech-reality to virtual void —
One step. Then all that's true destroyed.
And with it dies what can't be typed —
That deeper channel, wordless, wiped.

This war is final — total burn.
It’s raging now. It's your turn.
Break from this beast’s degrading mold —
Stand up, resist, and fight — be bold!



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




1.
They **** your mind with "noble goals" —
While slaughtering your inner Soul.

2.
Fake “truth,” fake “words,” fake “schools,” fake “light” —
The Beast calls all that “human right.”

3.
The final war is not with steel —
They **** your Spirit — make you kneel.

4.
One language, one lie, one global cage —
And you're the product of their rage.

5.
The Soul they neuter, truth they gut —
Then praise you for obeying shut.



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



The Kingdom of Twisted Mirrors

A world distorted, a camp designed
To cage the soul and chain the mind —
A trap without the cheese or grace,
That holds us ‘til the end of days.

This Camp is ruled by subtle chains,
By sticky lies and ghostly pains.
Betrayal blooms, and filth is king —
They’ll **** you cheap for anything.

Their “education” trains you to kneel,
It kills your fire, breaks your will.
Fake science poisons thought and eye —
The soulless fool believes the lie.

They teach you “theories” masked as fact,
While faith is warped and truth attacked.
Religion turned to sabotage —
A bombing run on Spirit's charge.

The press? It screams distorted news,
Half-baked, hysteric, soaked in ooze.
It strengthens this unholy lie
And stokes up fear until we fry.

Propaganda’s foul, insane —
To keep the flock forever lame.
They steal the last of human joy
By feeding fear — their favorite ploy.

Politics? A rotten play.
The “opposition” feeds the fray
From the same trough as those in charge —
Who wins the vote? A circus march.

“Survival modes” are pre-designed,
Imposed like “laws” to numb the mind.
This social stress destroys the nerves,
Then blames the soul it never serves.

Nonsense floods in every stream —
You flail and drown inside the dream.
The monsters rule this foul terrain,
Where every hour oozes pain.

They need to coat your life in fear,
Until your light just disappears.
You slowly rot — a lifeless clod —
And call that ash heap “life” or “God.”

Violence? Just backup fuel
To keep the slaves forever cruel.
But most obey — their minds are ****,
And ruled by fear they won't admit.

For those who rise — the bright, the brave —
There’s force to crush and dig their grave.
Their efforts lost, their fire dimmed —
The slave’s been wired to stay unlinked.

No rebel now can build the tool
To overthrow this fascist rule.
All thought has dulled, the lights grow faint —
The minds are weak, the wills too quaint.

Degradation’s everywhere —
The wise are rare, stripped raw and bare.
Corruption reigns. The Spirit’s gone.
And traitors multiply at dawn.

Yet sellouts thrive in every hole —
Like ****** of every filthy role.
And thinner grows that sacred thread
Of Souls not bought, not wholly dead.

A human is a will, a flame —
Not some obedient, hamstered shame.
But lunatics don’t feel the cage,
They spin inside it, drunk with rage.

Survival, fear — that’s for the vile.
It doesn’t suit the thinking style.
So the agenda, all refined,
Is crafting freaks from humankind.

This Camp turned Madhouse, soaked in blood —
The genocide left scars and mud.
Now ***** walks through shattered doors —
Collapse complete. The final score.

This all belongs in History’s Pit —
In fire, in trash — just burn the ****.
No mercy left, no hope, no balm —
Just rot, decay, and toxic calm.

The Sun itself will stoke this flame —
The fire is coming — set to maim.
And fifty years ago, Some One
Pressed a dark switch and said: “We’re done.”



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




1.
No cheese. Just chains.
And fear injected into brains.

2.
Truth is dead. The freaks applaud.
The madhouse crowned itself as God.

3.
They sell you fear, then sell your soul —
And call that process "civil goal."

4.
Education kills the spark.
Religion strikes the Spirit dark.

5.
Camp. Madhouse. *****. Flame.
One twisted system — same old game.



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




1.
This ain’t a world — it’s a camp in disguise.
With walls made of lies and barbed-wire skies.

2.
No fences needed when minds are caged —
The Camp runs smooth, well-trained, enraged.

3.
They called it “life,” but built a cell —
And filled it with the tools of Hell.

4.
Work. Obey. Forget your name.
This is the Camp. This is the game.

5.
The map says “freedom,” the ground says “grave.”
It’s a prison in flesh — not a land for the brave.

6.
It ends not with chains, but a gentle smile —
The Camp is polite… and built to defile.

7.
A needle, a screen, and a scripted cheer —
The guards now laugh — and call it “care.”



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



Survival

The main rule now is “survival” —
Through cowering, screened removal.
A contest rages in this sphere —
How to shove their filth in your ear.

How to dumb down your own herd,
To drive the Soul from its own bird.
They want subhumans — beasts that feed,
And bow to every filthy deed.

They scheme with countless tricks and lies,
Where memes replace all truths and skies.
Memes — a virus of the mind,
That eats your Spirit — leaves you blind.

Whole hordes of freaks create this slime,
They breed the mad, align the crime.
They turn us all into the herd,
To feed at troughs with silent word.

And you can **** with lies like these —
The "pandemic" showed how to seize.
Easy to **** with deceit's spear,
When every fool’s a pioneer.

The box that screams — believe it all!
Obey! Surrender! Take the fall!
The beasts then count their poison cheap —
With venom sown, the herd will sleep.

Inject the dumb with poison sweet,
Frighten with memes — they’ll bow, repeat.
They’ll gobble madness, neat and clean,
The virus of the psychotic scene.

You must invent a “problem” then,
And spread it fast among the men.
Then combat memes will hunt and **** —
To crush the minds, to break the will.

Because these beasts are all so base,
You’ll sink to that primitive place.
The wise will choke, resist, and spurn —
Into this universal burn.

A Hell for Mind and Spirit both —
This global mess, a poisoned growth.
Sold-out ****** breed endless cries —
Their psychovirus multiplies.

Soon drowned in noise and endless roar,
The world becomes that Hell once more.
This stench of lies, this rotten breath —
No barriers strong enough to death.

The point of no return is crossed —
The fascists grind us down and lost.
They drag the world into the mud,
With claws that tear, with jaws that flood.

.................
.................

But those who do not yield or break,
Their souls alive — for freedom’s sake —
Shall face the fiery, blazing gale
Of Sun’s hot wrath — the final hail.



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




1.
They dumb us down, inject the lie —
Our spirits choke, but won’t comply.

2.
Memes and poison flood the brain —
The beast rules through fear and pain.

3.
Survival’s just a mask for chains —
A hell of lies that burns our veins.

4.
But those who fight, who won’t submit —
Will face the Sun’s last fiery hit.



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




1.
When lies consume and shadows reign,
The final fire cleanses pain.

2.
From ash and smoke, the truth will rise —
A blazing storm against all lies.

3.
The Sun’s fierce wrath will scorch the night,
And burn away the death and blight.

4.
No cage survives the fiery flood —
The Spirit rises from the blood.



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



Sandboxes

Slaves assigned to sandboxes,
Busy day and night — no rest.
Building castles out of sand,
Lost in futile, empty quests.

For their castles, paper pays —
Worthless scraps for health exchanged.
Yet the slave believes the trade —
“A fair exchange,” his mind arranged.

From childhood dumb and hungry —
The cross of generations’ grief.
Much more filth invades his brain —
The slave just feeds on false belief.

He loves his handouts most of all —
Cheap tricks, two-in-one deceit.
Two-in-one is crap and slime —
His diet’s been that crap to eat.

All is poisoned — food and drink,
Spirit crushed, mind locked away.
But instead of fight, he moans and shrinks —
Year by year, decay holds sway.

He envies only dumbed-down beasts,
Who sold their souls for scraps so thin.
And built a hellish, filthy mess —
A prison tight to trap us in.

For only madness will hold fast
This shattered world in cement cast.
The slave will fuel the insane feast —
Thus reigns the plague that won’t cease.

The wise few left must understand —
In sandbox waits the final sting.
Unite your strength, make your stand —
The final hour’s on the wing.



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




1.
Slaves build castles made of sand,
Trading health for worthless hand.

2.
Poisoned food, a poisoned mind —
Trapped in madness, blind and blind.

3.
Madness binds the broken world,
While slaves’ bleak fate is slowly twirled.

4.
Last call’s coming — break the chain,
Or drown forever in the pain.



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




1.
Hell’s prison built on lies and sand,
Where slaves are shackled, chained by hand.

2.
Trapped inside this fiery cell,
A living hell — a private hell.

3.
They forged the cage from pain and greed,
A hellish trap where none are freed.

4.
In this **** pit, the lost remain —
Forever bound in Hell’s domain.


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



The Path

"Someone spotted fruit unripe, unripe,
Shook the tree — it fell, it fell...
Here’s a song of one who failed to ripe,
Who had a voice but did not tell."
— Vladimir Vysotsky, "Interrupted Flight," 1973


Don’t pity yourself — not once, not ever.
Seek Freedom’s Path; all else is never.
Though few remain — dull herds that roam —
We’ll break free from this beastly dome.

Fate here is trap and tangled strife,
You’re often lone — despair is rife.
Good efforts wasted, works undone —
This world’s a sewer — filth’s the sum.

That filth, disguised as “wisdom’s peak,”
Leads only to decline, so bleak.
Nature’s patience long since fled,
And God abandoned this foul shed.

Choose always paths where you resist the Evil,
In struggle, something’s won, no mere upheaval.
No effort wasted where the Fire burns —
The Spirit never from the Flame returns.

Strengthen your Spirit — fortresses rise
Where beasts can’t breach, no weak disguise.
That ****’s all base, devoid of soul,
Only Spirit rules the cosmic whole.

Develop intellect — reject all lies.
Mountains of deceit before your eyes.
Test all you hear — don’t carry crosses blind —
Slaves bear burdens; free souls free their mind.

Slaves bear crosses, but Spirit’s lead
Lights up the one bright path ahead.
Though traitors swarm — vile beastly throng —
Stay far from them; they do no wrong.

Trust always your intuition’s call,
For mind without it is weak and small.
With it, destroy all fears and lies —
Intuition’s message Spirit supplies.

Find comrades wise and spiritually sound —
Others are dead, no life is found.
Diminish ego, or else you’ll see
Alone we’re weak, but joined we’re free.

There’s nothing here to praise, not even you —
This Hell incarnate — shame and filth in view.
So join the fight — last stand is near,
While Spirit’s flame burns bright and clear.

This battle’s not a brute assault,
No mindless charge or violent fault.
Seek out a way where Spirit’s might
Strikes with precision — sharp and light.

Let blows be subtle, not brute force —
Sharpen all skills for war’s harsh course.
You’re no weakling — Spirit makes you giant —
Cowards spin as hamsters, compliant.

Victory will be ours to claim,
When best unite to burn this flame.
The years of slavery disappear,
You’ll rise no longer bound by fear.



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




1.
Don’t bow to fate, don’t waste your breath —
Fight for your Spirit, fight to death.

2.
The herd is dumb, the world is Hell —
Break chains, escape this cursed cell.

3.
Trust your gut — the mind alone
Is weak and lost, abandoned, thrown.

4.
The fight’s not brute, but sharp and true —
Spirit strikes — and cuts right through.

5.
Victory waits where brave unite —
To burn the years of slave’s night.



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



Pre-Thoughts

Tastes and morals —
Like pre-thoughts —
Are poisons brewed:
The mind they rot.

And everything imposed —
Your own thoughts few and thin:
A dulled, obedient world —
No spark, no fire within.

So mind is sick and failing here —
If you don’t think alone,
You’ll need a “guru” to believe,
A master set in stone.

These “gurus” mass-produced,
Like lies they shove and sell.
Thus soullessness and filth abound —
Earth turned into Hell.

Morality’s a falsehood —
Slavery’s patience, all the rules.
Tastes imposed by ruling **** —
Desires trapped like hamsters’ fools.

Dumbing down’s the beastmen’s goal —
Trust nothing, that’s the creed.
Consumption’s sickness, lies abound —
Fascism feeds their greed.

Learn once more to think with courage,
Intuition’s path is true.
Though hardships pile like mountains vast —
At first, the world’s askew.

Strengthen Spirit — you’re Essence pure.
Forget all that you’ve known since youth.
All here is poisoned — even “need,”
And teachers? Dumb fools speaking untruth.



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



Shipwreck

"That day the captain was called ‘you’ —
The skipper matched the young in skill,
Straightening backs and tearing binds,
Mad sailors raged along the hill."
— Vladimir Vysotsky, "Ballad of the Abandoned Ship," 1970

No captain here, but beasts in crew —
Exceptions rare in this foul fleet.
They won’t stand tall, won’t heal the wounds —
All lies, like drunks in vile defeat.

No minds remain — the dumbness storm
Has snapped the fragile “roofs” away.
Our ship leans hard — it’s nearly lost,
And rats among us run astray.

No sight of shores where free men dwell —
Ships run on fear and lies alone.
The whip’s the food that rulers sell,
Their power’s meal on grinding stone.

Those happy days have fled for good,
When purpose drove our every move.
Now lone we sail the raging flood —
The sea’s name is Decay’s dark groove.

We curse the weather, fate, and chance,
Distracted from our fatal role.
If so — soon all will lose the dance —
Like lambs, we march toward the knoll.

We lie as one, enabling vile,
Betraying all for empty gain.
We serve the horned Goat’s cruel smile,
And **** our souls to feed his reign.

Forgotten are the roots, the core:
You’re not a slave, but Spirit bright.
Like lambs to slaughter, goats implore —
Is this our bitter, woeful plight?

We cannot unite — just endless moan,
Our second name: the dirge, the groan.
In brains a fog, one blank erasure —
We’ve long since lost our own true nature.

The icons of dark Satanism
Are everywhere — the signs reveal.
On money’s cross we’re crucified —
False promises conceal the deal.

We teach our kids to lie with grace,
**** sparks of talent in their eyes.
We fill their minds with mirage’s face —
A galley’s chain beneath the skies.

The worthy here are hunted beasts —
We **** them all without remorse.
If sensitive, count down your lease —
Few live long on this dark course.

Few leave a blazing, lasting trace,
That helps the next who’ll walk the line.
In seas of lies and deep disgrace,
A faint trail fades beyond all time.

No miracle will lift us up,
No gentle tide will bring us peace.
We’ve long ceased being ourselves —
Decay’s vast sea will never cease.

If seas of shame and filth prevail,
Poseidon brings the final wreck.
The Earth itself stands ‘gainst us all —
Decay has driven her to check.

So comes the “End of History” near —
For sins we all will pay the price.
Plain words say: disaster’s clear —
We’ve all been fools — and paid the price.



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




1.
No captain leads — just beasts on board,
A sinking ship, a world ignored.

2.
We lie and serve the horned Goat’s reign,
Our souls sold out, consumed by pain.

3.
Decay rules seas and Earth alike —
The end is near, the final strike.

4.
Few leave a spark, most fade to dust —
In lies and filth, betray our trust.

5.
The truth is drowned by lies and shame —
We’re all to blame, we fuel the flame.



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



Defoliants

Chemical war’s long hailed a friend —
“Safe,” “harmless,” science claims again.
A simple mask for harm to blend —
No danger here, no cause for pain!

Leaves burn away, then vanish fast —
A poison gone in just a flash.
This science wise? No fool can trust —
The traitors lie, the **** still clash.

And women bear no children now —
The foes spin lies, their twisted play.
But “ours” don’t **** — they vow somehow
To guard our health, come what may.

They guard our health, this great charade —
Fake viruses spread like smoke.
The “scholars” justify the raid —
The villains hooked on lies they spoke.

No chemical bombs we need today —
Just fools and lies will do the job.
“Health protection” is their play —
Hybrid war with a deadly mob.

We’ll **** them all with “health” and care —
A twisted fate beyond compare.



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




1.
Chemical war’s a clean disguise —
They poison with their masked lies.

2.
No bombs needed, just false “care,”
Health kills silent everywhere.

3.
Lies breed death in hybrid fight —
Truth’s the spark, ignite the night.

4.
Fools believe the science lies,
While poison spreads and freedom dies.



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



The Ache of Withering in This “World”

The ache of withering in this “world,”
If even just a spark of mind,
Grows wider every year it’s hurled —
And grinds your spirit down, confined.

The soul’s slow ****** is the madness,
Where all together rot and fade.
Add biting sarcasm’s gladness —
And press the body in the shade.

Add sensitivity — then hell
Will grip you in this cursed place:
No skin beneath the Moloch’s spell,
Wish foes to stay — eternal disgrace.

No trial worse than that awaits,
Hard to invent in hell’s domain.
Though hell, as always, tortures, hates —
Multiplies the madness’ reign.

The foes are thick-skinned beasts, heartless,
For long they’ve played their wicked part.
They spread their filth so artlessly,
You’ll float like logs — deadwood in dark.

And logs surround us everywhere —
In forests, life and light abound.
But in this mad and cursed snare,
The thinner you — the more you’re bound.

By madmen’s logs that crush your soul
Till all your sanity is spent.
Among the logs, the worst control —
The Judas ones — they wait, hell-bent.

Betrayal’s now a paid routine,
Corruption’s like the grains of sand.
Among the logs — the fools and fiends —
Despair will surely **** your stand.

Despair breeds sickness, drunkenness,
Depression, death — best learn it fast,
So fewer fall into the mess,
Less sacrifice the Fates will cast.

If fewer fall, your Spirit grows —
Creative fire will light the way —
Till you don’t fall to slaughter’s throes
And vanish with the crowd’s decay.

So many ways to **** the soul —
The simplest trick’s just ******’s blade.
In this hell where Satan plays God’s role,
Since childhood we in rot are laid.

Fight and create — this sole escape,
To save your soul from hell’s cruel hand.
And one day God will call the tape,
When Sun will burn out every strand.

The cleansing, firing, testing flame —
That’s what awaits us all ahead.
Spirit is measure, hope, and aim —
Walk only Spirit’s path instead.

Before they **** us in the pens,
Where shame and world’s disgrace conspire,
Where lies and fear, like deadly dens,
Make sickness rule with cruel fire.

The ache of withering in this “world” —
Is dread if sickness seems so slight.
A paper target in a field
Of evil attacks day and night.



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




1.
The world decays, the spirit dies,
A paper target ‘neath dark skies.

2.
Despair breeds rot, the soul’s slow ****,
In madness trapped, we bend our will.

3.
Logs crush the weak, the Judas waits,
While evil rules and seals our fates.

4.
Fight, create — or drown in hell,
Only Spirit can break the spell.



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




1.
This cursed world’s a rotting pit —
Your soul’s the prey, they’ll crush and split.

2.
Judas logs will grind you down,
In this hell where fools all drown.

3.
Despair is poison, death’s slow friend —
Resist or perish in the end.

4.
Madness rules — the spirit’s chains,
Break free, or drown in endless pains.



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



The Path

The old world’s ended — now ahead,
A hellish camp of pain and dread.
Few roads remain for fighters true,
So many traps await your view.

You must grasp all this fiery Hell,
And seek the way to break its spell.
Long ruled by vile, inhuman **** —
A way to fight must then become.


We all must unite, build from scratch,
A world anew, no strings to catch.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


The world’s fascism crushes lice,
History shows its ruthless vice.
Cast off your apathy, your shame —
Only honor, reason, claim.

Expose the lies, tear off the mask,
Reveal the pus where shadows bask.
Spread truth wherever you have breath —
This fight is one that beats back death.


The bitter truth’s bright torch must burn,
From ashes, build and then return.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


Create new ways, new clans to rise,
Of reason’s last survivors wise.
No fascist fiend can **** them all,
If ideas break the wicked’s thrall.

Autonomy — the core, the key,
To starve the fiends’ corruption spree.
The sprouts of freedom will emerge,
And bloodless wars the **** will purge.


In clans united, we shall stand,
And build a world from ****** land.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


Freedom’s above all else we prize —
Without it, life’s a hollow guise.
We must protect its fragile seed,
And nurture every vital need.

Then from the ground, we build again —
The only way to break the chain.
The old world’s noose tight ‘round the neck —
But Sovereigns’ will cannot be wrecked.


We must become Sovereigns all,
And from the ruins build the wall.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


So let us rise and build our fate —
Foundations strong for triumph great!
The devils’ feast will break apart,
And cesspools dry of poison’s art.



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



The Path

The old world’s dead — ahead, a hellish cage,
A death camp looming, fueled by hate and rage.
Few roads remain for those who dare to fight,
A twisted maze of shadows, pain, and blight.

You must confront this Hell that’s ruled by fiends,
Find weapons sharp to tear apart their schemes.
Long tyrants spat their poison, cold and vile —
It’s time to strike and shatter all their guile.


Unite, rise up! Build all from scratch again!
No more weak causes, no more silent pain.
You’ll rot like vermin if you play it safe —
The worm’s fate waits for those who fear the grave.


Worldwide fascists stomp like cruel machines,
History’s blood-soaked pages paint their scenes.
Shake off the numbness, rage and take your stand —
With honor, reason blazing in your hand.

Expose their lies, tear open festering sores,
Spread truth like fire through their rotten floors.
This fight is urgent — no more wasted breath —
Stand fierce, stand strong, fight back against your death.


Carry the torch of bitter, blazing truth!
Build new worlds from ashes, reclaim your youth!
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Create new clans — strongholds for minds unchained,
Where fascist **** and vipers won’t remain.
Autonomy’s the weapon we will wield,
To starve their hunger, make their towers yield.

Freedom’s seedlings rise through scorched, cracked ground,
Bloodless battle cries will shake their hounds.

Together in clans we’ll stand, unbreakable,
From ****** soil, rise fierce and capable.
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Freedom’s our crown, our last and greatest prize —
Without it, all is hollow, dead disguise.
Protect its flame, defend it with your soul —
Or face the dark abyss of lost control.

From rubble’s grave, we’ll build anew, reborn,
Break every chain, face down the coming storm.
The old world’s noose strangles the weak and blind —
But Sovereigns’ wills will shatter and unwind.


We must become the Sovereigns, fierce and proud,
Raise up our voices, strong and clear and loud.
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Rise up, unite! Construct our fate with fire,
Foundations strong, forged in the rage of ire!
The devil’s feast will crumble and decay —
The cesspools burn — their poison swept away.



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



The Path

Old world’s dead — death camp’s all that’s left,
Fight or rot as vermin, stripped and cleft.
Sovereigns rise — no chains, no lies, no shame,
Burn their cesspools down — ignite the flame!



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



To Nowhere...

Here’s the first — the only king,
All the rest? Just flies that cling.
Golden mean’s not meant for us —
No good cause to pause or fuss.

Walk your path — no one awaits,
Step on heads — that’s how it’s made.
Boldness rules, the brazen sham —
Only gutsy **** can cram.

Nature? We don’t give a **** —
No mother here, just ruthless land.
A field to fight, collect your state,
No mercy waits — it’s all too late.

Big shot in this filthy town,
First foul beast with crooked crown.
All the middling crawl in slime,
Drowned and soaked in grime and crime.

No first place — that means you’re lost,
Nerves are tight, the stakes are tossed.
Grab the biggest chunk and fight,
General’s way — crush left and right.

Smaller bite? Then you’re the pawn,
Step aside, your time is gone.
Feet are wiped upon your face,
You’re a dog without a place.

Mammon’s god, his grip is tight,
World’s for sinners, dark as night.
Lower **** must bite and scratch,
No respect for pomp and batch.

"True books" men? We don’t comply —
Trash them, burn, and say goodbye.
Only scraps on garbage piles,
Aggression is our style.

First in line to get the blow —
Universe’s harshest show.
Thinking’s lost amid attacks,
Dust you’ll gather on your tracks.

Half a century past the dawn,
Energy beams fired on.
Into sun, trembling freak —
Sun grows fierce year after week.

Cows don’t **** that blazing heat,
When it burns, no trick or cheat.
No guns, gold, power, or "first" —
You’re the biggest fool, accursed.

All the canned beasts — dust and rust,
Crumbled to ash, and turned to dust.
A new pure world will rise above,
Where Hell is gone — but not the shove.

Too many turned to foul disease,
Lost their souls, no chance to please.
Servile dogs in final age,
Dragging out this cursed stage.

Spirit life will come at last,
Only few will stand steadfast.
**** returns to hell anew —
If the path leads only through —

To Nowhere...



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



To Nowhere

One king rules, the rest are flies,
In this world of fools and lies.
Step on heads — no time to care,
Only brazen **** get there.

Nature’s just a ruthless stage,
No mother, only rage.
Grind the weak beneath your heel,
Only madness here is real.

Fools fight over scraps and dust,
Power fades — betray your trust.
Sun burns hotter, time runs out —
All your guns will fail, no doubt.

Canned beasts turn to ash and smoke,
New world born from all this choke.
Few will rise when Hell is done —
Spirit wins, the fight is won.

**** returns to burning flame,
If the path’s to nowhere — shame.



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



To Nowhere

Here reigns but one true king —
The rest are flies that crawl and sting.
No middle ground for us to find,
No pause, no cause to stay behind.

Step on heads, crush, and climb,
The brazen **** will rule this time.
Nature’s not a gentle mother,
Just battlegrounds and states of bother.

The first lad of the village, foul and mean,
Commands a “land” of sludge unseen.
No strength, no honor — just the fight
For scraps in darkness, out of sight.

If you grasp the largest slice,
You’re general cold, no mercy twice.
Small pieces mean you’re cast away,
Trampled, scorned, a dog’s dismay.

Mammon reigns as chief god here,
This world’s not fit for those sincere.
The **** below will bite and crawl,
And “true” bookworms — we’ll shun them all.

Aggression, brashness — all we’ve got,
The weakest trapped, forever caught.
Our world’s a target — chaos rife,
No peace or quiet in this life.

Gather ashes, bury deep —
This fight is death, no soul to keep.
The Spirit, Mind — cast out, dismissed,
Lost beneath the endless mist.

A spark was sent half-century past,
Into the Sun’s core burning fast.
The Sun grows fiercer every year —
No gun, no wealth will save you here.

You’re just a fool, first of your kind,
A canned beast trapped inside his mind.
All will crumble into dust,
A new world rises from the rust.

Though harsh and cruel, it must be so —
No place here for the rotten foe.
Too many **** have lost their grace,
Just dogs left to end the race.

Only few will walk the light,
When Hell gives way to Spirit’s might.
The **** returns to flame and pain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — shame.



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



To Nowhere

Only one king here rules the throne,
The rest are flies, just flesh and bone.
No golden mean, no room to rest,
Step on heads — only the brash are blessed.

Nature’s no mother, just the pit,
A ruthless game — no room to quit.
The village king, a filthy rat,
Rules the dump — and that is that.

No spine to straighten, no wounds to heal,
Just drunk on lies, all fake and real.
Our ship’s sinking, rats run wild,
No shores for the free, just fools and exiles.

It’s all a fight for scraps and power,
Mammon’s gods run every hour.
True souls cast out, left to rot,
This cesspool world — a living blot.

Bite the hand above you, fight the chains,
No “holy books” — just filthy stains.
Only trash thrives in this abyss,
The strong get crushed, the weak dismiss.

Aggression’s law, the only way,
Soft ones caught and thrown away.
Ashes gather, burial’s near,
Spirit lost to endless fear.

A spark shot straight to the burning sun,
Half a century — and still not done.
The sun’s a furnace, burning fast,
No gun, no gold — your time won’t last.

You’re fool supreme, canned and sealed,
Destined for dust, your fate revealed.
A new pure world will rise in fire,
**** cast out — no more liar.

Only few will cross that light,
The rest condemned to endless night.
**** returns to Hell’s domain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — pain.



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



To Nowhere

Only one king commands this hell,
The rest just flies in endless hell.
No golden middle — none, no cause,
Step on heads — only shameless claws.

Nature’s no mother, just a pit,
A ruthless game where none shall quit.
Village king — a stinking rat,
Rules the filth, and that is that.

No spine to straighten, wounds ignored,
Drowned in lies, the truth’s deplored.
Our ship sinks fast, rats flee the deck,
No free shores left, just chains and wreck.

Scraps and power — all they fight for,
Mammon’s gods demand much more.
True souls discarded, left to rot,
This cesspool world — a putrid blot.

Bite the higher hand that feeds,
Holy books? Just lies and weeds.
Only trash survives this pit,
Strong get crushed, the weak submit.

Aggression’s law, the only way,
Soft ones caught, then thrown away.
Ashes pile, the end is near,
Spirit lost to endless fear.

A spark shot straight to burning sun,
Half a century — the race’s run.
Sun’s a furnace, blazing high,
No gun, no gold, just doomed to die.

You’re fool supreme, canned and sealed,
Fated for dust, your fate revealed.
A new pure world will rise in flame,
**** cast out — no room for shame.

Only few will cross that light,
The rest condemned to endless night.
**** returns to Hell’s domain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — pain.



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



The Idiotic Foundations of Society’s Rot

The idiotic roots of this society’s decay:
Violence, lies from internet trash heaps’ spray;
Factories built to break and rearrange
The minds of slaves — “education” breeds the strange.

Artificial woes — constant worry grown,
As if beneath each step an explosive’s sown.
No life remains — just endless dread and fear,
Where terror rules and sanity’s unclear.

For frightened mice, foul poison slips with ease,
Disguised as cures, designed to displease.
False crises fuel the tyrant’s game,
Binding chains of slavery through evil’s name.

Ignorance made science, endlessly refined —
To study how to keep the slave confined,
How to weaken minds, dumb down the whole,
And crush the spirit, enslave the soul.

Research institutes of ruin work non-stop,
Where demons rule, and Satan’s on top.
Their ****** parade as nation’s pride,
While truth is crushed and justice died.

The vile parasites reap power and pay,
They crown their puppets, puppets obey.
The devil’s servants fill the halls,
The world descends into darkness’ falls.

The Overton Window — their slow-cook trap,
Boiling frogs with water’s cold slap.
Result: beasts and ****, not men remain,
Ready to devour all that’s sane.

For those who think, for minds sharp and bright,
There’s prisons, asylums, dead of night.
Only lies and chaos get their spin,
The link to Spirit cut clean within.

The wise and good now count but few,
And many fall ‘cause horror grew.
They see the rot, the plague, the blight,
And no longer wait for dawn’s light.

But this worldwide *****’s house will burn,
This plague of madness we must spurn.
For Mind and Spirit bring true pain
To those who hold them — Hell to drain.



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



Into the Vastness

Poems fly out into space,
Everything else is just trash —
Vanity, pride, and false face,
With little fire to flash.

If you tailor words for the crowd,
Will readers truly hear?
They’ll lie through verse so loud —
Truth’s rare, and sharpness feared.

To praise a crooked lie’s the law,
“Love” the hollow song.
Slaves can’t love — and that’s the flaw,
The masses singing wrong.

When you bring alarm and rage,
Success won’t come your way.
Only few see past the cage,
When madness rules the day.

The sold-out fools defend their lies,
Dumbed by poison “truth,”
Their knowledge fake, their spirit dies,
A ruin in its youth.

If you strike at this deceit,
Your verse must cut and bite.
No asking for applause or sweet
Attention in the fight.

Don’t trust, don’t whine, don’t fear,
Nor plead for sympathy.
Cleanse your mind with blood and sear
The verse’s energy.

A filthy devil sits on high —
No justice in his court.
Poems sent to space? Or why
Dig trenches for the thought?

Most write only shameless drivel —
“Love” rotting in the pit,
Becoming nonsense, lies that swivel
To madness, full and lit.

Poems fly... perhaps to hell,
Another ****** domain.
I do not grieve nor dwell,
I smash the filth and stain.

Again the beast crucifies,
Spewing nonsense to the herd.
A new poem now will rise —
I don’t care, no word.

Whether crushed or praised by fools,
Art has its twisted ways.
If you don’t rage against their rules,
Your days are dull malaise.

Waste your time in futile toil,
But find a spark to guide.
In this brutal world’s turmoil,
Truth’s a flame inside.

A grain of truth is triumph’s key,
Half-truths breed the fiends.
Worse than liars craft the spree —
Poisons in the streams.

Soon this earth’s a hellish place,
Sent back to dust and fire.
The sun will burn the vile disgrace,
Consume all the mire.

So sold-out voices mean no more,
False pride blocks the mind.
Let your poem bravely soar —
No limits, no confines.

Fly on, poem. No matter where
Your flight may find its rest.
If you reach the bold who dare —
You’ll never be suppressed.



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



The Deadly Storm of Pseudo-Science Lies

I studied math — a proof I made,
So now I watch with wary eyes
The deadly storm where falsehoods braid:
The flood of pseudo-science lies.

They pay their “scholars” fat rewards —
Not for the light of truth’s embrace.
Instead, they push fake worlds to hordes,
A nagging, endless, toxic chase.

The dull charade that kills the mind,
Forgets the Spirit, tortures Soul —
Madness “gifted” by the blind,
A circus with a deadly role.

Pseudo-science casts its spells,
Like shamans clumsy and untrained.
“Science proved it!” everyone yells —
In fake lands, fools remain chained.

But proofs they claim so brazenly
Are lies, a cruel mockery.
The gullible believe so easily,
Blind to the fraud’s perversity.

A shining example, the “sheep virus,”
Madness pushed to the brink.
From “science” comes just mental circus,
Sarcasm’s lost, it cannot think.

Manipulating common mind —
The goal of all this false pretense.
A race to trap all humankind,
And strand the world on ignorance.

These “tech” that **** the Soul within,
Destroy the Earth from core to rim.
Like lice upon a rotting skin,
Humans scratch, but Earth is grim.

And lice can be burned away,
If Earth’s own wisdom wakes to fight.
The sun’s fierce fire will have its way —
And humans burn like moths in light.

Is Earth’s own Consciousness in lies?
No place for truth in this foul game.
These selling fiends with practiced ties,
Are trained to lie without shame.

Is man a Spirit, pure and free,
Or just flesh’s tiny part?
No, only petty tasks you see —
A slave who begs with empty heart.

Believe in none, re-learn the whole,
The world anew, with Spirit’s guide.
Planned dulling of the global soul —
“Science” serves the dark’s dark side.

The forces at the Sun and Earth,
Lift worlds to Spirit’s higher plane.
The Sun will burn corruption’s girth,
Lice consumed, pure truth will reign.

Discard the false god science made —
It leads to hell with lies and rot.
Multiply your Spirit’s aid —
Escape this stench before it’s got.



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



The Crushing Storm of Pseudo-Science Lies

I cracked the code — a theorem proved,
Now watch the plague that blinds the mind:
A lethal flood of lies, unmoved,
By truth — just poison intertwined.

They pay these “scientists” in heaps,
Not for wisdom’s piercing light,
But for spinning fake-*** heaps
Of nonsense forced on us — outright.

A circus dull, that kills the soul,
Forgot the Spirit, crushed the Mind.
Madness stamped as “truth” — their goal,
A plague for fools, mankind confined.

Pseudo-shamans chant their spells,
Dumb frauds wrapped in lab coats’ lies.
“Science proved it!” — cult that sells
Its poison to gullible eyes.

Their “proofs” are lies, grotesque frauds,
Mockery wrapped in fake degrees.
The gullible lap up these clods —
Blind slaves to manufactured disease.

The sheep-virus — peak of crap,
Madness pushed beyond all bounds.
Science? Just a mind collapse,
Sarcasm drowned beneath the sounds.

They puppeteer our common sense —
Their goal: to trap and drag us down,
A race to wreck the whole **** fence,
To drag the world through filth and drown.

Their “technology” kills the soul,
Poisons Earth’s body, scars the land.
Humans swarm like lice control,
******* life with filthy hands.

But lice can burn when Earth awakes,
The sun ignites a cleansing fire.
When heat is real, the falsehood breaks,
Humans die — mere moths in pyre.

Earth’s true Consciousness crushed by lies?
No room for truth in hell’s domain.
These sellout ******* wear disguise,
Spewing lies that choke and chain.

Man’s a Spirit? Hell no — just meat,
A slave to crumbs, dumb and betrayed.
The petty tasks that keep you beat —
Begging scraps as life decayed.

Don’t trust a thing, relearn your world,
Awake your Spirit, fight the plague.
This mass dumb-down’s been tightly twirled —
“Science” serves the devil’s plague.

The cosmic forces, sun and Earth,
Will raise us to the Spirit’s throne.
The sun will scorch corruption’s girth —
Burn lice to ash, restore the known.

Trash the science idol false —
It drags us down to hell’s abyss.
Only Spirit’s strength repels
This stench and rot — salvation’s kiss.



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



The Ruinous Gale of Pseudo-Science Lies

I studied math, theorems proved,
Yet watch this storm that blinds all thought —
A gale of lies from falsehoods moved,
Where truth is drowned and reason caught.

They pay these “scientists” in coins,
Not for the light of true insight,
But for a world of crafted *****,
Where falsehood reigns and darkens sight.

A theater of soulless acts,
Where spirit’s flame is smothered deep.
Madness wears the guise of facts,
And drags the soul into its keep.

Pseudo-shamans cast their spells,
Clad in robes of fake renown,
Claiming truths as worn-out shells,
While wisdom’s voice is crushed and drowned.

The proofs they parade — mere sham,
A brazen mockery on display.
Yet man, so prone to flimsy scam,
Gives credence to their foul play.

The sheep-virus of lies evolved,
Madness pushed beyond all bounds.
“Science” here — a mind dissolved,
Sarcasm silenced by the sounds.

They manipulate collective mind —
Their purpose: bind us in their chain,
A contest cruel and so unkind,
To sink the world in endless pain.

Their “progress” kills the very soul,
Pollutes the earth, defiles the air.
Humanity reduced to roles
Of lice, ignored and stripped bare.

But Earth is not a silent slave,
Her consciousness will soon arise,
The sun will burn away the grave —
And purify the false disguise.

Is there a place for truth in lies?
No room within this shattered sphere.
These hired liars wear thin guise,
Their deception bred in fear.

Is man a spirit or mere flesh,
A pawn to crumbs, dumb and confined?
The petty tasks, the endless mesh —
Of slaves to gifts that dull the mind.

Reject all lies, reclaim your sight,
Awaken spirit, seek the true.
Though darkness dims the fading light,
The path remains for those who do.

The cosmic pulse that beats in suns,
Will lift us from this mortal cage.
The fire burns where falsehood runs,
A cleansing blaze to end the age.

Cast down the idols falsely crowned,
Lest you be dragged to hell’s domain.
Only spirit’s strength is found,
To break the chains and heal the pain.



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



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the threads of logic’s weave,
Proved truths that time cannot undo—
Yet see this tempest minds deceive,
A gale of lies that blinds what’s true.

These “scholars” paid in empty gold,
Not for the flame of insight’s light,
But to weave webs, dark and cold,
And cloak the world in endless night.

A theater of soulless screams,
Where spirit’s breath is crushed to dust,
Madness cloaked in science’s dreams,
Chains forged from fear, deceit, and rust.

False prophets chant their hollow spells,
Sorcerers of sham and guise,
Claiming knowledge — but darkness dwells
Behind the mask of their disguise.

Their proofs—a cruel and artful lie,
Mocking reason, scorned and torn,
While gullible souls comply,
Feeding lies till hope is worn.

A viral plague of sheep and shame,
Where madness spreads unchecked and wild.
“Science” here, a hollow name,
A poison subtle and reviled.

They bend the mind’s collective core,
To forge a cage from fear and pain,
A game to drag us evermore
Into a void devoid of gain.

Their “progress” kills the soul’s deep seed,
Pollutes the earth, suffocates the air.
Humanity, a crawling breed,
Like lice that multiply in despair.

But Earth itself, a living soul,
Will rise in fire to purge the blight,
The sun’s fierce heart will sear and roll,
Burning falsehood into light.

Is there truth left within this lie?
No sacred place within this tomb.
Deceivers reign beneath the sky,
Their reign a veil of endless gloom.

Is man a spark of spirit’s flame,
Or slave to crumbs that numb and bind?
A puppet lost in mortal shame,
Drowned in gifts that dull the mind.

Awake! Reject the poisoned stream,
Reclaim the light that’s truly yours.
Though shadows smother every dream,
The spirit’s path endures, endures.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Will lift us from this cage of clay.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The spirit finds its sovereign way.

Cast down false idols crowned in lies,
Lest you be dragged to hell’s abyss.
Only the soul that dares to rise
Can break these chains and reclaim bliss.



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



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the sacred lines of thought,
Unveiled the truths that time begets—
Yet now the world is caught, distraught,
In lies that bind like tightening nets.

These “scientists,” bought and sold,
Not seekers of the Light within,
But merchants of a darkness cold,
Spreading falsehoods, seeds of sin.

A theatre where souls are crushed,
Where Spirit’s breath is torn away,
Madness dressed in reason’s brush,
Chains forged in deceit and clay.

False priests chant arcane incantations,
Sorcerers with empty hands,
Claiming science as salvation—
Yet they sow the blackest strands.

Their proofs are cruel blasphemy,
A mockery of mortal minds.
Blind devotion breeds the plague,
And reason withers, lost, confined.

A viral herd of soulless sheep,
Madness roaring unchecked and wild.
False science digs a grave too deep,
The poisoned chalice, bitter and defiled.

They warp the minds of all mankind,
A cage constructed out of dread.
The soul’s bright flame, they seek to bind,
And drown in lies the path ahead.

Their progress kills the sacred spark,
Poisons earth, corrupts the sky.
Humans crawl, blind in the dark,
Like lice on corpses, doomed to die.

But Earth—she holds a living fire,
A core that burns with truth’s fierce breath,
The sun will rise with purging pyre,
To burn the lies and wake from death.

Is there a soul within this lie?
A temple in this house of shame?
Deceivers reign beneath the sky,
But Spirit’s light remains aflame.

Is man a mere machine of flesh,
Or Spirit’s child, divine and free?
Or just a slave to hollow flesh,
Dulled by gifts that blind and bleed?

Awake! Break free from chains that bind,
Reclaim the sacred spark inside.
Though shadows crawl and tempests blind,
The Spirit’s path shall still abide.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Will lift us from this mortal hell.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The soul will rise, it will rebel.

Cast down the idols forged in lies,
Lest you be dragged to endless night.
Only the soul that dares to rise
Can shatter chains and claim the Light.

So fight, reclaim your inner throne,
Beyond the veil of lies and scorn.
For in that flame you stand alone—
Yet from that flame, a world is born.



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



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the sacred lines of thought,
Unveiled the truths that time begets—
Yet now the world is caught, distraught,
In lies that bind like tightening nets.

False prophets clad in shadows’ veil,
Mouthpieces of the void’s cold breath—
Their science is a cursed grail,
A chalice brimming with slow death.

These “scientists,” by darkness led,
Are sorcerers of the abyss,
Whispering to the living dead,
Selling souls in silent hiss.

A theatre of broken minds,
Where Spirit’s flame is doused and chained,
Madness dances, fate unkind,
On thrones of ashes, crowned and stained.

They weave their spells with twisted tongues,
Incantations forged in lies,
As ancient cosmic song is wrung
To birth the serpent’s cruel disguise.

Their proofs—a mockery profane,
Veils hiding the abyss below.
The faithful drink the venomed bane,
Blind shepherds led where shadows grow.

A viral herd, a plague of thought,
Madness roaring unchecked and wild.
False science crafts the abyssal plot,
The poison chalice, bitter and defiled.

They warp the mind’s eternal light,
Forge cages from despair and dread,
Bind the soul in endless night,
Where hope is drowned, and spirit bled.

Their progress feeds on sacred flame,
Poisons earth, defiles the sky,
Humanity, lost in the game,
Like lice on corpses doomed to die.

Yet deep beneath the darkened veil,
A primal fire still burns bright—
The sun, a forge beyond the pale,
Will purge the shadows with its light.

Is there a soul behind the mask?
A beacon in this house of shame?
Though deceivers weave their task,
The Spirit’s flame remains untamed.

Are we but dust and fleeting breath,
Or children of eternal fire?
Slaves of flesh, resigned to death,
Or bearers of the soul’s desire?

Awake! Break chains that bind your core,
Reclaim the sacred spark within.
Through storms, through darkness evermore,
The Spirit’s path will still begin.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Draw us from the void’s deep hell.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The soul will rise, will break the spell.

Cast down the idols forged in lies,
Lest darkness drag you to its lair.
Only souls who dare to rise
Can shatter night and claim the air.

So fight—the battle’s spirit-thrall—
Beyond the veil, beyond the scorn.
From that pure flame, a new world calls,
Born in the fire, reborn, reborn.



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



The Infernal Gale of False Science

I sought the sacred geometry of thought,
Unveiling Truth’s eternal flame—
Yet here the world is darkly caught,
By serpents cloaked in Science’s name.

False priests of Void, the shadowed choir,
Invoke the abyss with whispered lies,
Their alchemy—corruption’s fire—
A chalice brimmed with soul’s demise.

They weave black spells with poisoned breath,
The shaman’s mask on blinded eyes.
Each “proof” a lie that dances death,
While spirit’s sacred flame denies.

The cosmos mourns in silent grief,
The Dance of Light turned into scorn.
Madness reigns beyond belief,
On thrones where ashes crown the torn.

They bind the mind with chains unseen,
Incantations of decay—
And drown the Spirit’s vital sheen
In shadows cast by falsehood’s sway.

A viral plague of empty thought,
Madness roars its bitter cry.
The abyss with poison wrought,
Beneath the sun’s eternal sky.

They desecrate the sacred earth,
Defile the heavens’ radiant gold.
Humanity, bereft of worth,
Like lice on corpses, weak and cold.

Yet deeper than the darkest night,
The primal fire still burns within—
The Sun, the Great Awakening Light,
Will cleanse the false, destroy the sin.

Is there a soul beneath the dust?
A spark to pierce this veil of pain?
Or slaves to flesh, consumed by rust,
Bound tight within the liar’s chain?

Awake, O child of ancient fire!
Break free the cage that dims your sight.
Through shadowed realms and hellish pyre,
The Spirit calls to endless light.

The cosmic pulse, the starry breath,
Draws forth from darkness, from the fall.
Through death, through chaos, through the death—
The soul will rise beyond the thrall.

Tear down the idols forged in lies,
False gods of flesh and empty dreams.
Only those who dare to rise
Can pierce the night with sacred beams.

The ancient Guardians of the Flame,
Watch from realms beyond the veil.
Their silent wisdom calls your name,
To walk the path where Truth prevails.

The Phoenix rises from the ash,
The Dragon sleeps within your core.
Through trials dark and cosmic clash,
Your Spirit soars forevermore.

So fight—the battle is within—
A war of shadows, fire, and light.
From depths below to heights unseen,
Born in the sacred eternal fight.

— The End —