Винтики в механизме Зла

Винтики в механизме Зла

"Мы все учились понемногу
Чему-нибудь и как-нибудь"...
То не случайно. Чрез Убогость
Зло воплощает в мире Жуть.

Напряг на память => мысль исчезнет:
Продумана вся муть программ.
Шуруп иль винтик Злу полезней,
Чем в страхе одичавший хам.

Ложь, страх как смазка для деталей
Зла механизма — как без них?!
На Дно механицизма пали,
И мало кто на нём не псих.

Свободен в мыслях и Душою —
Не нужен ты в Аду машин:
В нём биороботы вновь строят
Какой-то Лагерь. Господин

Там Сатана, но имя бога
Урод присвоил — так везде:
Когда сознание убого,
Тогда ты в жопе иль в ****е. 


Вариант последней строки: То прозябаешь ты в НИГДЕ.



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Cogs in the Mechanism of Evil

"We all were taught a bit, somehow,
A thing or two, some way, sometime..."
It's no coincidence. Through lack,
Evil makes Horror's face sublime.

Recall a thought? It slips away—
The murk's design is razor-clear.
A bolt, a cog serves Evil's sway
More than a brute consumed by fear.

Deceit and terror grease the gears
Of Evil's mechanism well.
To depths mechanic, we've been steered,
Where sanity begins to fell.

With mind and soul both truly free,
No place for you in Hell’s domain.
There, bio-robots ceaselessly
Rebuild a camp—by fear sustained.

Its master Satan, yet his guise
Assumes God's name, as often seen.
With stunted thoughts, the spirit dies,
And you decay in No-Man's Dream.



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Light Above the Canvas

A painter dipped his brush in grime—
Without the Light, it's always so:
A wretched smear, a mark of time,
A slave’s disgrace for all to show.

When twisted canvases take flight,
Herds cheer for "depths of fragile soul."
The answer’s simple: bend through Light,
Transform each work to make it whole.

But where the darkness tends to creep,
The Light will rise above the frame—
Complexity through anger seeps,
A modern artist's subtle flame.

Yet fools alone would hold their peace
When life around is filth and woe;
Darkness marches, finds release,
To pierce the depths of all below.

And then the "darkened" canvas yearns,
A burst of Light reveals no lies;
Its filth dissolved, its truth returns—
The Light within must always rise.

How can you reach it? Turn your gaze
From outward lies to inward skies.
The outer world’s a fleeting haze—
True growth begins where wisdom lies.



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The Sowing of Darkness

"To be or not to be, that is the question."
Hamlet's Soliloquy


To be or to rot —
That is the query.
Words mean a lot,
Yet sound so dreary.

To be is to breathe,
To live in the Light.
To rot is to seethe
In Darkness' blight.

Fear waters lies,
Sprouting deceit.
The harvest? Cries
Of souls' defeat.

To be — you're no feast.



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The Icebreaker

"A living word is mighty, nothing can stop its stride..."
Alexander Herzen

An Icebreaker of Forgotten Words
Once more carves its daring trail,
Through icy lies — a frozen herd,
Compressed today in a dreadful veil.

Most such paths through verse are laid,
Poetry's voice, both sharp and clear.
In gaps between the words displayed,
A clever mind finds food sincere.

Rhythm and rhyme will gently guide
The keen to a Heart's Hidden Cave —
There Salvation will abide,
And fools find pastime they crave.

In Words, there’s something for each soul:
An end to Evil Words foretell.
Not mine, but one that fills the role,
Declaring: darkness' reign shall fell.

An Icebreaker of Fiery Speech
Brings doom to chains and all their slaves.
Its roaring voice, a final breach —
To end the rule of masters' graves.

Beyond these Words, a Vision lies,
A gateway to transcendent spheres.
Once the ice thaws and Darkness dies,
A brighter stream of hope appears.



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The Fading Song

Hour by hour, it grows grimmer
For the dwindling choir's shimmer:
LIES IN PROSE devour the throng—
Idiots applaud, forgetting song.

Few are left who stand unshaken,
So the tune is little taken.
Worse to come, the path is dire—
The world’s gone mad, bereft of fire.



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The Police

Criminals in disguise,
Much worse than all the rest—
Deception in their eyes,
Yet fools think they're the best.

And since the fools are plenty,
Injustice rules the land.
The world, so weak and empty,
Now bows to their command, unmanned.



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The Bottom

Not just a few—
Lies they spew.
A million strong,
The loud and wrong;
A horde of fools, a shameless crew.
CowID laid bare it all—the view.



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The Desire for Children in Hell

"More bones! More bones for monstrous beasts,
Let them feast on fear’s dark feast!"



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The Axe

Enough of digging for "happiness"
In the world's manure heap, grim!
Strengthen your Spirit, rise, progress—
Cast off that spade; take up axe within.

The Spirit's force, the Mind so clear,
Will sever all that filth apart,
Where lies, declared as "truths," appear,
And vermin breed with cunning art.



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Mediocrity

Mediocre lives "within its means,"
Unbothered, heedless, free of fuss,
Inherited its foolish dreams—
For minds that think, it's vile as pus.

It clogs all paths, it swarms the way,
No freedom left, no space to roam.
If you resist the dull clich;,
The halfwits claim the world their own.



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Fools are like the microbes,
Spreading fast, it’s just insane.
And to match them, foolish masses—
What a world of Muck and Pain.



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Mind and Spirit

The mind’s a fog of fear and lies,
Deceit and traps in thick disguise.
Like treacherous reefs beneath the waves,
It leads astray the reckless brave.

Yet intuition clears the haze,
Guiding through life’s uncertain maze.
To Truth’s sure shore it gently steers,
A ground untouched by depths or fears.

Below, the shallow world remains—
The mind’s own fog feeds shallow gains.
The Intuition lies discarded aside,
And without it, all sinks in pride.

Rise from the depths of falsehood’s sea,
Use mind’s own fog, but carefully.
Beware, for cunning lurks around—
Where wisdom blooms, strife may be found.

The Purest Spirit earns the trust
Of minds not bound by greed or lust.
A Spark of God’s Eternal Grace—
Without it, thought’s a hollow space.



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The Rat’s Infernal Little Den

Heaps of corpses — that’s a war.
Fools in darkness? Plenty more.
Evil thrives as we obey,
Dragged to toil, led astray.

Toil is futile, world’s a sham,
Ruled by filth — a global scam.
To be true means casting doubt,
Seeking light to burn it out.

Madness fades where truth is found,
Self and world — delusions bound.
Light transcends, its voice is clear:
Dissolve within, no need for fear.

The den is deep, it leads to Hell,
And fools who sell their souls compel
A road to shame, to sorrow's pit —
A bridge of lies they’ve proudly lit.



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The Mark of a Fool

A home, a job, a family chain—
The mark of fools, the binding stain.
Step out, break free, escape the spin,
Or let your soul grow dim within!



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"Community Rules"

A silent lie, the rules declare—
Deceit wrapped tight in hollow care.
Step out, break ties, escape the game,
To save your soul from endless shame.




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Fools Get Killed, but More Will Come

Kill the fools—there’ll be no dearth,
The womb will grant them endless birth.
But talents rare. They're cast aside.
And that’s why chaos spreads worldwide.



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Is the Predator the Cat? No, Man!

For centuries, the human hand
Has ruled with chaos, scorched the land.
Genocide, unbridled greed—
The cat looks on, ashamed indeed!



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The "Brainwash" Construction Site

Empty promises abound,
A box of lies—their hollow sound.
Fear, madness, poverty unfold,
A world that's hit rock bottom, cold.

Yet promises are made again,
And fools still trust them, now as then.
They threaten, scare, and pave the way—
The cowards rise, their shadows stay.

They build a Camp, now digital, new,
A prison for the many, few.
No room for courage, none for might—
The guards enforce their crushing night.



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Некрозом мозга тяжко болен,
Мирок убогий гонит ложь
Про деньги, "выбор", "правду", "волю".
Убожество, мой друг, не трожь:

Ищи остатки умных-честных,
И только оным молви речь,
Ведь скоро им не будет места —
Ложь превращается картечь.



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The mind decays, the soul feels ill,
A wretched world bends to its will,
It spews out lies of "truth" and "freedom,"
Don't touch this ruin—do not need 'em.

Seek out the few both wise and true,
To them alone your words construe.
For soon their space will shrink to none—
And lies will strike like lead from guns.



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Тупой шаблон стихосложения

Как-будто мир нормальный,
Здесь пишутся стихи.
Гнилой он — инфернальный.
Поэты — дураки,

Коль пишут без надрыва,
Потворствуя дурь`ю,
Чтоб жили те "счастливо"
В Аду как бы в раю.




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Stupid versification template

As if the world’s in order,
They write their lines with ease.
Yet rot has claimed this border,
Infernal its disease.

And poets, fools at heart,
Write soft, devoid of strain,
Indulging folly’s art
To make Hell feel like gain.



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Тля нелюди, пожирающая Землю

Ах, гадкий утёнок
Почти как цыплёнок,
Но он улетит.
Цыплёнка ждёт Стыд.

Стыд Супа — бескрылым.
Земные дебилы
Позором Земли
И ужином Тли.

Загон для гавваха
И Разуму плаха
Планета Земля —
Для ужина, для...
 




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The Ugly Duckling, or The inhuman aphid that devours the Earth

A duckling, so vile,
Yet chick-like in style,
The duckling takes flight—
The chick meets its blight.

A soup born of shame,
For the flightless, its name.
Earth’s fools, stripped of worth,
Bring disgrace to the Earth.

A pen for despair,
And Reason’s own snare,
This planet, our Earth—
For Aphids feast, for our dearth...



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Поедание Лжи

Ужин
Нужен
И обед,
Плотный завтрак:
Впрок жри БРЕД.
А подавишься, сыны
Доедят среди войны.
Ложью нагоняют бред.
То война — тотальный вред.




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War by Eating Lies

A meal,
To seal
Your hunger’s need,
Breakfast rich:
Devour Deceit.
Should you choke, your sons will dine,
Finishing the feast in strife.
Lies ferment the endless grind—
War consumes both truth and life.



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Гонец несёт дурную весть:
Из Рашки разум вышел весь —
Двойник там гонит ересь всем;
А если честный, в страхе нем.




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A messenger rides with heavy breath:
From Russia, Reason's fled to death.
Its double spews deceitful screams;
The honest cower, silenced dreams.



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Чикатило для дебилов —
Двойниковый мудозвон.
Копит он рашизма силы,
Разум изгоняя вон.




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Муму и "антифашисты" в новом воплощении

Муму Герасима не любит,
Ведь прочитала тот рассказ.
Фашизм нас снова "приголубит",
На ложь и страх меняя газ,

Хоть просмотрели фильмов тыщи
И прочитали ворох книг
Про тот фашизм. Мирок у Днища,
Коль к власти ТВАРЕЙ столь привык.




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