Не верь всякой духовной чепухе!

Не верь всякой духовной чепухе!

Колесо Самсары учит?
Колесует Дух оно!
Верь Душе, то много лучше, —
И увидишь Ада Дно.

Опыт Ада — разложенье:
От учения лишь пшик.
С каждым новым поколеньем
Духа меньше. Почти сник

Он сейчас: "второго года"
Ждать не стоит — Катаклизм
Сметёт рабство и уродов,
Что считают школой Низ.




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



Don’t Believe in Spiritual Nonsense!

Does the Wheel of Samsara teach?
It kills the Spirit, don’t you know!
Trust the Soul, it’s far more rich—
And you’ll see where Hell's depths go.

Hell’s experience—decay,
From teachings, only empty sound.
With each new age, the Spirit fades,
Its strength diminished, nearly drowned.

Now it's here: "No second year,"
Don’t wait—Cataclysm’s near.
It’ll sweep away the slaves and fools,
Who worship schools of the lowly tier.



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



Как встарь придуркам пошлый царь
Авторитетом был крупнейшим,
Так ныне Пыня — двойник-тварь —
Как светоч для наиподлейших.




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The Trap of Pseudo-Linear Time

Tick and tock: if you're a fool,
You've fallen into the trap,
Time's not linear, it's a map
Of chaos hiding in the rule.

Listen to your heart alone,
It’s the only guide to see,
Smash the lies with clarity,
Break the chains of "linearity".



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



Religious Urges

For "transcendent beauty" strive,
Prepare your mind, and soul align...
Ugh! Once more, the crosses thrive,
Priests like carcasses, they pine.

And fools, the flock—so blind, so lost,
Buying "eternity" for mere obedience.
It's false faiths—don’t you dare cross,
Or face a blow for your "impudence"...



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



The Overton Windows

Closing the door, the Horned God
Opens the window wide,
In genocide, he's firm and odd—
And Overton’s gap will guide.



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



So many idiots...

There are many fools, of every kind.
And few wiseacre, with honest mind.
And like a job betrayal has become —
To be a fool and sell your soul at price of gum.



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



Not love, but bubbling blood

Bill and Merry—love’s not here:
Just young blood, so bright, so clear,
It bubbles up and quickly steals,
Distracting mind, breaking wheels.

From the pressing question’s course:
How words, like curses, bring remorse,
And lead the crowd down into Night—
To serve the Darkness, hide from Light.

Through Love, the World is known to see—
A way to lift it from the spree
Of filth and fear, and bring it bright,
Destroying folly, bringing Light.

Folly and fear—programmed mind,
Not politicians, but the ones behind—
The lackeys of the Devil's plan,
Sons of a foolish, broken land.

They feed us lies, they feed us strife,
Destroying us, they end our life.
The world’s decay—its final bell.
Meet it clean, with Spirit well...



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The shackles of gadgets

A gadget weaves, like nylon thread,
At home to rot, its purpose dead,
Forgetting joys of face-to-face,
And leaving hearts in empty space.



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Satan and His Flock

Frightened fools: beware! —
With each “new” year they rot,
Duller minds, greed laid bare,
Bowing to the Goat of Blot.
Culture’s death, despair—
And hence, our cursed lot.



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



A "Middle" Education

A “middle” education—
A dumbing-down for all.
The last rise to elevation,
Ignoring old fools’ fall.



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



The Webs Unraveled

The webs have spun
Their doubtful friends and hollow play.
Lost is the one
You were, amid their games' array.



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



Leave the Race

The start? Then STOP!
Step off the track.
Why chase and claw,
If soul you lack?



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



Disgrace in Full

Is it not already clear
That life’s a stain, disgrace profound?
Relentless, vile, and always near,
Its filth surrounds us, all around.

Only eyes, by lies betrayed,
Fail to see this shameful plight.
Through disgrace, the world decayed
Turns us into empty night.



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The City’s Madmen

The city’s madmen walk the line—
Creators bold, or just the crowd?
Seekers of light, or bound to twine
The yoke of fate that speaks so loud?

For slaves of thought, the answer's plain:
"Not one of us? A fool, a foe!
Let’s tear them down, bring them to pain!"
The Creator trudges, heart sunk low.

No fans, no wealth, no friends await,
Just Truth and Light his only creed.
Though frail beneath the crush of fate,
He cast off fear and scornful greed.

For mobs are cruel, devoid of soul,
Vengeful, dull, and blind to grace.
He shuns the filth, remains whole,
With a clear and steady face.



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