Скотный двор
Гарантии — обманы.
Но верят вновь бараны.
И в Новые Ворота...
А пастыря работа
Попроще с каждым годом,
И меньше в ней отходов:
То назовут "прогресс" —
Сильней хозяев пресс.
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The Barnyard
Deception reigns as law,
Yet sheep believe once more.
Through gates that gleam anew,
The shepherd’s task is few.
Each year, it’s less a chore,
With waste reduced to lore.
They’ll praise it all as “progress” bright—
As masters press with greater might.
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В огромной мышеловке
Мрачно, сыро,
Нету сыра —
Мышеловка никакая.
Мыши молча все — не хают,
Только ждут, надеждой с`ильны.
Эти мыши сплошь дебильны.
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In a Giant Mousetrap
Dark and dreary,
Cold and weary,
No cheese to make the trap worthwhile.
Mice don’t grumble,
Sit and mumble,
Clinging to their hope with guile.
One might say they’re dim, or daft—
Lost in dreams that time has laughed.
---------------------
Censorship and the Rest
The "moderator", sly instigator,
And the snitch—a Darkness' crest.
Their filth, like tractors, crushes later
Unformed minds at their behest.
---------------------
Regression
The ape-man’s back, he claims the throne,
And bends mankind beneath his stone.
The "Renaissance" was brief, it seems—
Now fascist rule fulfills dark dreams.
Genocide is everywhere,
CowID and war laid truth laid bare.
To the top rise vile and crude,
Where shame and reason are subdued.
They feast amid the plague’s decay,
The final feast before dismay.
The scholar spins his clever lies:
“This is progress,” he implies.
But tread not on their “progressed” path,
Lest filth cling tightly in its wrath.
This world, debased beyond repair,
Has madness dancing everywhere.
The ape-man’s back, his work is grim,
And soon he’ll finish all for him.
All delicate, all light has fled—
Rotting Darkness reigns instead.
---------------------
The True Fool
The fool’s no rarity to see—
A “citizen” of mediocrity.
How sickening this mindless horde,
If you're no slave, no cretin bored!
---------------------
Cry or Scream
Cry if you must, or scream aloud,
But nothing shifts this heavy cloud.
Your final fight, a war of words—
Will you disrupt the beasts’ accords?
No room for dreams—your soul, take heed,
These words are for its final need.
So hurry, act, while thought is clear,
Before the madness draws too near.
The skull’s at risk—a fragile dome,
As madness spreads and claims its home.
With every day, it grows, it burns—
The fool must face the Fire's stern.
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The River of Oblivion
"All flows, all changes, and no one steps twice into the same river, for the river is not the same, nor are they the same."
—Heraclitus
The River of Oblivion flows,
Once you step in, it never slows.
Say to the Almighty, "Forgive—
A pawn in Hell’s grim play I lived."
The Abyss roars; where is the Divine?
Far beyond Hell’s cursed confine.
You worshipped beauty, bowed to lies,
A willing serpent in disguise.
Into the River’s depths you wade,
Among the blind, by fear betrayed.
It’s only natural you’ll drown—
The future belongs to those renown.
Few walk the thread, the path so thin,
That leads beyond Hell’s deadly spin.
Follow the Ray—don’t drift, don’t sleep,
The wise must climb, not sink too deep.
That single ray to God ascends;
Seek its light within your soul, my friend.
Through piles of lies and stench, press on—
Your inner spark can’t be undone.
True peace and beauty lie afar,
In Hell, all’s twisted, false, bizarre.
“Salvation” nailed upon the cross,
And “rest” awaits the edge’s loss.
---------------------
Genocide
A fluffy cat, a witty sprite—
Life gleams within its eyes so bright.
A beaten pleb, a soulless gaze—
Living corpses haunt these days.
The rare exceptions stand alone,
Through countless generations sown.
Their kind grows fewer, wanes away:
Genocide keeps pride at bay.
--- Всего 10 стихов ---
Все стихи здесь: https://greenexpectations.us/book/
Свидетельство о публикации №225012501611