Игорь Выхованец, стихи 7601-7700

Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 7601-7700



рВачи и барановирус

"Врачи" чудесные в романах,
А в сериалах — так отпад.
Но... шмурдяком колоть баранов
Сумеет лишь отпетый гад!..


Вариант третьей строки: Но гадостью колоть баранов



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Выдуманные "вирусы"

Мензурка "вирусом" полн`а —
Он виртуальный. Днесь война
С Разумностью: достигли Дна
Под вой "научного" Говна.



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Война
До Дна
Всех опускает —
Под Ложью идиот лажает:
"Врагов" придумать не проблема,
А убивать днесь не дилемма.



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Редкая Поэзия для Редких Людей

Природа, "дружба", с`юси-м`уси,
К убогой "родине" "любовь" —
Поэзия для глупой гнуси.
Для Редкого: вскипает кровь

Когда от Слова, ум повергнув
В сильнейший шок, стряхнув Маразм,
Иль к Осмыслению подвинув
Чрез парадокс или сарказм, —

Вот Настоящая Поэзия.
Она редк`а, как редок Ум,
В котором идиосинкр`азия
На идиотский мира шум.


Вариант второй строки: К постылой "родине" "любовь" —




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Приднестровский фашистский режим

Вонючий режим, где все пенсии мизер —
Названье меняй на "кошель гробовых"!
Там мент господин — опустившийся изверг.
Народец убогий там выжат как жмых.



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Cinema Propaganda

First, comes distraction—your mind drifts away,
Then filth creeps inside, while your thoughts fade to grey.
Reading the “news” is a tiresome chore,
But straight-shot deceit works much less than before.

So now they inject it through laughter and thrill,
Corrupting the weak with their venomous skill.
A dose at a time, till the mind’s stripped of all,
And nothing remains—just an echoing call.

But Nothing builds nothing—it crumbles, decays,
While rot is their goal through manipulative plays.
They dazzle, distract with their "stories" so grand,
While lies take deep root where you don’t understand.



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War

Drags all
To fall,
Deception reigns—
And fools obey its twisted chains.
"New foes" are crafted on demand,
No second thoughts to strike or stand.



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Transnistria’s Fascist Regime

A rotten regime where the pensions are crumbs—
A grave-fund in name would be nearer the truth.
The cops rule like beasts, sinking lower than scum,
While people are squeezed till there’s nothing to lose.



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"The Path of the Cross"

They push the herd the cross to bear—
Its goal? Not faith, but pure despair.
"Humanism"—just a veil,
Hiding evil’s true detail,
Like a carrot for the frail.



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Rotten Chaos

Propaganda’s whores parade,
Far more rotten than the rest.
Ruthless gangs behind the shade
Keep the fools in blind duress.

Fools are plenty, whores aren’t few,
Gangs? Too many to be named.
Lies spread fast, deceit’s in view,
While the "ruler" plays his game.

No way forward, doomed to crack—
Rotten Chaos meets its fate:
Waves of madness, lies attack,
Blood and war—a twisted state.

CowID? Just a testing trick,
More fake plagues will soon arise.
With their poisons, strong and slick,
They’ll inject the world with lies.



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Propaganda—a Villains' Brigade

A gang of beasts—propaganda’s crew,
Yet theft’s not the prize they chase or pursue.
Their goal is far worse: to make the depraved
The "norm," while the world drifts into the grave.



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Greedy Crooks and the Mutton "Virus"

In books, the doctors shine like gold,
On screens, they're heroes, brave and bold.
But only snakes, corrupt and sly,
Would jab the sheep and watch them die!..



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Fabricated "Viruses"

A vial’s filled with "virus" fake—
Illusion, nothing real to take.
The war’s on Reason—make no mistake,
Drowned out by "science" loud and fake.



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Rare Poetry for Rare Souls

Soft love for “homeland,” sweet embrace,
Of “friendship,” nature—empty grace.
Such rhymes for mindless crowds are spun,
But Rare Ones feel their blood outrun—

When words, like thunder, strike the brain,
And shatter folly’s dull domain,
Or force reflection, sharp and keen,
Through paradox or scorn unseen.

This True Poetry is rare to find,
As rare as Thought—unique, unchained,
Which loathes the noise of hollow minds
And to their folly stays disdained.



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"Прилёг вздремнуть я у лафета"
Среди войны кошмара, бреда...
— За что народцам бремя это?
— За то, что рабство не узрето,
Ведь гонят их бичом "свободы",
И снова верят Лжи уроды...



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A Murky Tale and a Frightful Fable

A fable’s just the start, they say,
The tale is darker far:
A fool obeys and strokes away—
The devil’s penned in char.

Now dreams and life are intertwined,
A "fantasy" untamed.
Do thinkers still remain behind?
Whom do they praise and name?

So few are wise—their idols lie,
Deceit is crowned instead.
The world sinks lower, scraping by,
Its soul already dead.

That fable—once creation bright—
Now fuels the flames ahead.
A tale of rot, of doomed delight—
Of ruin’s final spread.



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A Poet’s Bliss

These "autumn" tunes in verses ring,
So strong before the end—
For Satan’s madhouse, laughing, sing,
As darkness claims its land.

The filth will fade—its time is short,
Though now it floods the way.
So dare to speak—no fears to court,
When death stands but a day.

Yet death must meet your steady gaze
In every fleeting spark,
Then greed won’t lure your soul to waste,
You’ll break, yet leave your mark.

Then knock on walls—no fear, no chains,
For poetry is fight.
And if you fall, a voice remains—
One stronger will ignite.



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Babbling Freaks of Pseudoscience

A "fact" is bent to fit the mold,
The fool keeps silent, bought and sold.
For science false, the rule is plain—
Just empty words, a hollow chain.

What breaks their claims, they’ll never see,
Blind fools won’t hear what truth might be.
They trust their modern prophet clan,
Where "proof" and nonsense go hand in hand,
And faith in lies corrupts the land.



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Economic Cattle

Greed-born troubles, minds decayed,
Fruits of folly on display.
Deaf and dumb, no thought, no plea—
Livestock for economy.



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A Servile Mind

Like lambs, they march without a fight,
To slaughter—glad, convinced they’re right.
They only dare to doubt and fear
Themselves—so simple, so sincere.



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"Faith," So to Speak

To "trust" means twisting all through lore,
A mind-disease, a fever sore.
And in delirium’s embrace,
I’ll "find" my "savior"—fall from grace.



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"Refined" Vulgarity

Vulgar turns to "deep" instead—
A twisted mind, a snob well-bred.



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I lay to rest by cannon’s side
Amidst the war’s mad, raging tide...
— What curse upon these people fell?
— They failed to see their captive cell.
For "freedom’s" lash still drives them blind,
And once again they trust the Lie.



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"It's just a business," they will say,
Excusing all in greed's embrace.
Then sink still lower day by day—
No depth too dark for their disgrace.



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This "culture" drill—I've had enough,
Its hollow rules—just twisted stuff.
The fools preach "virtue" loud and clear,
While scoundrels drive the herd with fear.
They fool the minds, prepare bullpen,
Then send the weak to die again,
While idly chatting all along:
"Stand up! Stay strong! Keep fighting on!"



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True Opposites Don’t Attract

In foolish tales, they twist and spin—
Opposites will magnetize.
But kindred souls will draw within—
That’s life's true law, not hollow lies.



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Inverse Proportion of False Life’s Rewards

You’ll get what’s earned—but in reverse,
No lucky break will lift you high.
If fate must choose, it picks the worst,
Unless you serve—then step in line.

Misfortune clings to those who wait,
Hard work won't change its wicked touch.
So work, but not for fortune’s bait—
Create instead, it gives you much.

True merit shines through fire and strife,
Not wealth, not gold, nor aching greed.
For chasing cash with all your life
Is just the way a slave proceeds.



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The History of Earth Is the History of Slavery

They’ve painted over slavery’s tale,
Drowned truth in myths—a grand parade.
And now the fools, devout and pale,
Don’t see how deep we’ve all decayed.



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A Game with Poison

What a game—lace your verse with fire,
Strike at fascists, let words ignite.
Let the brutes claim they’re always right,
But don’t you dare give up the fight.

For dropping your hands is sinking your soul,
Drowning it deep in the darkness below.
Listen to heart—let it guide you whole,
And damn what the slaves may think or know.



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Golden Domes and Endless Chimes

Golden domes, a ringing chime,
Drifting, droning, loud yet bare…
Time unchrist yourself - it's crime:
Faith will drive out reason there.



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Greed

"More! Still more!"—the cry is loud,
And the soul burns out in flames.
Greed has dragged the masses down,
Chasing gold and hollow names.



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"Upbringing" of the Rising Generation

No clubs for thought, no place for reason,
But sports? They're funded well enough.
No risks allowed—such talk’s high treason,
Can’t shake the herd, they’ve had it rough.

Debates could spark a mind’s ignition,
Awake a few, shake up the scene,
But thinking’s met with firm suspicion—
Who needs the wise when fools convene?

It’s all about the body, solely,
No link to thought, no mental light.
The media feeds the masses lowly—
Rot, filth, and trash—day, noon, and night.

To keep the madness ever thriving,
Control demands a mindless herd.
If truth were free and not conniving,
Then fools would vanish—leave no word.

Yet, some emerge—rare, strong, insightful,
Against the tide, they rise and gleam,
But fools snuff out what’s bright, delightful—
Like birds from books—they’re just a dream.



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Oblivion

"Man, you have nothing but your soul."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC


Fame and fortune, body, mind—
All will fade, but not the soul.
Seek the truth, reclaim control,
Leave the fleeting noise behind.

Words like echoes cloud the way,
Trapping hearts in endless night.
Break the chains, embrace the light—
Let your soul no more decay!



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Fragmented Mind

Scenes that jump and flash, collide—
Minds dissolve in shattered streams.
Memes ensure the lie won’t die,
Locking thoughts in caged-up dreams.

Trapped within this broken vision,
Sinking deeper, thought grows thin.
Is it fun or just derision—
News, blogs, films—they pull you in.



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The Global Masquerade

A masquerade—just look around!
Few are real, most wear disguise.
The wretched hide, they can’t be found,
For deep inside—they’re empty lies.

And emptiness creates no fate,
Builds no world, no dream, no light.
It only takes, consumes with hate,
And hoards for self with all its might.

Why should others even try,
If fiends will tear down what they make?
All that’s left is smoke and sky—
They take, take, take for their own sake.



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Из Праха в Прах, или Путь в Новый Ад

Мишура кругом, мура,
Ложь тотальная и страх:
Что ж покинуть мир пора —
К праху к прах, из Праха в Прах.

К праху прах — то здешний Ад,
А второе — в Новый путь.
В Новом будут супер-гад,
Супер-Ложь и Супер-Жуть.

Выведенье гадов цель
Адских Сфер. Каков итог?
Даже Чёрту надоел
Здешний Ад, коль Столь Убог...

Потому путь в Новый Ад
Непреложнейший закон.
Но внимать Лжи дурень рад,
Чтя за родину Загон...



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Ассенизатор Гуд

Робин Гуд, конечно, гуд.
Но богатства все в Уме:
Мало кто берёт сей труд —
Разобраться в Зла Дерьме.

В оглуплении, что Тьма
Главным сделала давно.
Стало мало здесь Ума —
Одолело Зла Говно.

Расчищать Завалы Лжи
Должен Новый Робин Гуд:
Одолели ****ежи —
Больно знатно ТВАРИ врут...



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The Scavenger Good

Robin Hood was good, no doubt,
Stealing gold to spread about.
Yet the greatest wealth, you see,
Lies in minds that struggle free.

Darkness crowned the fools supreme,
Drowning reason, dimming light.
Now the world’s a filthy stream—
Evil’s waste has clogged the sight.

Clearing lies, unmasking fraud,
That’s the task for one anew.
Robin Hood must rise abroad—
Monsters lie too well, too true...



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From Dust to Dust, or the Road to a New Hell

Tinsel glitters, empty glare,
Fear and falsehood choke the air.
Time to leave—no turning back,
Dust to dust, from dust to black.

Dust to dust—this Hell decays,
Yet a New Hell waits ahead.
There, the Super-Fiends will reign,
Super-Lies and Super-Dread.

Hellish Spheres breed vipers vile,
Spawning monsters, goal in sight.
Even Satan, bored with style,
Leaves this Hell—it lacks in blight.

Thus, the path to Hell anew
Is the law none shall repeal.
Fools still trust the lies as true,
Worship chains and call them real...



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The Stool

Garbage heaps are spreading,
Land and sea decay.
Minds, like sponges, treading
Trash in disarray.

Worse inside the masses—
Madness takes its rule.
'Neath the Horned One’s glasses,
World becomes a stool.



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The Mire of a Servile World

The watchdog of Hell guards not its gates,
But shackles the minds to their lowly fates.
Trapped in the madness, they bow and obey—
What is this Hell?—Just fools in array.

Rotting in darkness, denied the right
To shape their truth, to share their light.
Fed with delusions from cradle to grave,
Drowning in mire, too broken to brave.



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Fake Diseases

Coughing? Panic—
CowID it is.
Ears are ringing?
That’s the "AIDS."

— Hippo-clap, where does it spread?
— Not down there—it's in your head...



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Dimwit

Dimwit: jelly in his skull,
Lies swell thick—a tumor dull.
Fear runs boiling to his crown,
Madness marks him, sinking down.



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No Path Through Delirium

No way out through fevered haze—
Wake up now, for heaven’s sake!
Stop believing shameless lies—
They will drag you to the grave.

Quit your whining, dreams won’t save—
Only ropes are left to wave.
War and CowID made it plain:
This world sank beneath the drain.



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— Hannah plus Trevor?
— Oh sure, it is "love"...
Till the cup runneth over—
Then push comes to shove.



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Seas of sorrow, peaks of lies,
Serve the fiends—be blind, comply.
Tread that path, and soon you’ll see—
Hell awaits a wretch like thee.



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Too most fell for liars' game—
Vile beasts still play the same.
Now the world’s a reeking pit,
Where madmen proudly sit.



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Большое Яблоко

Сериал "Друзья" известный —
Там подённые рабы:
В их квартирках очень тесно,
Но не видят Злой Судьбы —

За общением и флиртом
Вечера проводит раб,
Тешится бухлом. Избита
Их стезя, а дух ослаб.

И всё это в "центре мира" —
Также Яблоком зовут.
Как же всё убого, сиро —
Пошлый отдых, рабский труд!..



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Changes in Total Slavery

Chains are changing—same old story:
Trade for dust, then rot in glory.
Now they build a sterile cage,
Digital, to rule the age.

Chip implanted—no possession,
Every move under suppression.
Crowds don’t think, they kneel and bend,
Worship filth until the end.

Brains are outlawed—"AI"’s preaching,
Guiding swine with soulless teaching.



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Big Apple

“Friends” — the show we know so well,
Where wage slaves in cages dwell.
Cramped apartments, lives confined,
Yet their fate seems unmaligned.

Flirt and chatter, booze and laughter,
Fill their nights, but what comes after?
Worn-out paths, the spirit’s numb,
Trapped in loops that leave them dumb.

In the “center of creation,”
Apple’s name—a proud ovation.
Yet it’s bleak, so dull, so hollow—
Trudging slaves with nights so shallow...



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Grandpa Frost or Devil’s Scheme?

Grandpa Frost is no fool, listen—
He's the devil in disguise.
You won’t sense a real mission—
Just a beard and kind old eyes.

Gifts he brings to keep you merry,
That’s the trick he plays so well.
NEW YEAR comes—but times don’t vary,
Same old game, the same old spell.

Chains of slavery won’t shatter,
They’ll just get a fresh design,
Spiced with filth—the devil’s pattern,
Mastermind of all that’s vile.



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Witch Hunt: Then and Now

If it’s strange—must be "infection".
Once they called it "evil's breath."
Both are means of mind’s subjection,
Ruled by fiends who deal in death.

Witches burned—today they drug us,
Same old story, same old fate.
Fools they were, but now among us
Live the brutes who breed blind hate.

Three in four—like sheep they follow,
Drowning deep in filth and lies.
Doctors now play gods so hollow,
Satan laughs and rolls the dice...



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The Oldest Profession

A cave-age cop came long before
The prostitute of fabled lore.
Yet lies persist, they twist the past—
Deceit for fools, spun deep and vast.



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"Stability Is a Mark of Skill"

They praise stability—so wise,
Yet nature thrives in waves that rise.
For waves won’t fit in rigid lines,
And "life" resists their forced confines.

No cycle flows the same as past,
No chart can hold a surge so vast.
Thus, talent seems a foolish sight
Among dull faces, locked in night.



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Cave People

The grind of boredom beats "belief,"
For near the cave, built on deceit,
Rise the temples, false yet grand,
Preaching chains to rule the land.



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"Bright Horizon"

Twisted faces, cold and grim—
Drunken butchers, soaked in sin.
After torture, after lead,
Marching where the fools are led.

Step by step, they guide the blind,
Slaughter’s fate already signed.



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Futile Toil

Toil grinds the mind to dust,
Paves the road for fools to trust.
Bricks of hell they proudly lay,
Calling it a brighter day.

Oh, how well the fiends deceive—
Lies so grand, the fools believe!



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Changes in a Nonsensical World

Absurdity—a fortress tall,
No way to break, just skirt the wall.
Yet Stupidity breaks through,
To build a new one—stronger too.

Where Rudeness binds like solid glue,
And mass dumbdown comes into view.
Inside those walls, the fools will cheer,
As ruin draws forever near.

No waiting long—the purge is set,
The filth has shown the endgame yet.



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Восстань и Думай — ВСЁ иначе,
Чем преподносят Звери Зла.
Кругом Дерьмо — вот незадача!
То испытанье для осла.

Ослом не стоит быть. Духовность
Ты возведи на высший ряд.
Злу противленье — безусловность,
Иначе ты продажный гад.




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Где литературоведы
Посредь мира БРЕДА?
Дрочат вновь Шекспира,
Загоняя Лиру?




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



Религиозная ***ня —
Она всегда во злобу дня:
Рабов ведь надо усмирять —
Отсюда ТВАРЕЙ благодать.




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Asymptomatic sheep virus and another hippopotamus clap

Symptom-free, we’ll all get sick—
Swallow lies and learn the trick.
Dare not fight, just nod and stay,
Bleating in the pen each day.

Beasts will jab us, drown in fear,
Dumb the minds and souls we bear.
Poisoned news and terror spread,
Truth is lost, just fear instead.

From the pen into the camp,
Where the cross and flag are stamped—
Marks of "care" from soulless hands,
Crushing what was once the land.

Whips of darkness strike us fast,
Drink up now—who knows how long we last?
TV sludge will dull the mind,
"Ours are right," and so we’re blind.



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You look in a book and you see a fig

You read a book—yet find a fig,
For that’s the game, the oldest trick.
Not just years, but ages long,
Censorship has ruled what's wrong.

Darkness won’t let truth shine bright,
Blinding minds to kill the light.
So for ages, pen to drawer—
Freedom crushed by those in power.

Fear breeds self-censorship still,
Wounds the arts far worse than will.
And of all who bow and kneel,
Literature leads the zeal.

Thus, it feeds the beast’s demand,
Molded by a wicked hand.
Eat the fig—what’s left for you?
Just a fruit that’s rotten through.



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You're your own critic

No "literary scene" in sight,
So cast your doubts and serve what's true—
Let Honor be your guiding light,
Let Reason be the judge in you.

Your critic, prize, and voice—you own,
Your reader and your harshest foe.
In art alone is peace well known,
Please crowds, betray yourself—sink low.



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A chain on your neck—just a link cut short,
Yet still the same old slavish sort.
A symbol dressed to look refined,
But slaves stay slaves, just more designed.



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A tie’s the mark of slaves in chains,
Yet fools don’t see—it's all in gains.
Their "thoughts," desires, every goal—
All consumed by rot and dole.



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Forced and joyless—won’t achieve,
That’s how fools themselves deceive.
Twisting nature, they betray,
Losing all along the way.

Pain and joy must intertwine—
That’s what makes creation shine.
Fools bring filth and crude excess,
Talent weaves pure wondrousness.



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



I'm leaving for Burkina Faso,
For here it's all just rot and hassle.
The filth has spread, the fools have won,
I’ve had enough—it's time to run.

I’d rather live with crocs and lions,
At least they’re true, without the lying.
But fools are worse, their swarms will smother,
And crush us all to praise another.

The beasts "care"—a twisted fable,
With poison shots at every table.
They stir up wars, they spread the lies,
Feed fear until all reason dies.

And so remains just rot and grime,
A mindless swamp, a wasted time.



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Religious crap – it’s always hot,
A tool to keep the slaves in spot.
They preach their "grace" to keep control,
To chain the body, bind the soul.



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



Rise up and think! The truth is twisted,
Not as the Beasts of Evil claim.
The world’s a mess—how unrealistic!
A test for those who bow in shame.

But don’t be one! Let spirit guide you,
And raise it to the highest tier.
Resist the dark, let courage drive you,
Or live a life of lies and fear.



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



Where are critics, lost in lies,
Drowning deep in mad disguise?
Worshipping old Shakespeare’s name,
Driving Lear to endless shame?



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



Twerk Away—You’re Pure Perfection!

A million views—your dance is fire!
But poems? No one will admire.
The crowd just craves a mindless thrill,
While art is left to rot and chill.



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



Beware of Fools

There’s no reason—none at all—
To let a fool inside your wall.
Stay away from brainless swine—
They’ll just waste your precious time.

Mediocrity will drain,
Suck your strength and dull your brain.
Nurture brightness, sharp and free,
Or a fool is what you’ll be.



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Label People

Labels race at breakneck speed,
Struggle? Sure—but they proceed.
Scum love contests, and their game
Wipes out sense and shifts the frame.

Hell or hardship? Who can tell?
Push ahead and ride through hell!
Trophies shine—no time to think,
Just line up, obey, don’t blink.

Planned is every next event,
Keeps the masses dull, content.
Winners rise, the crowd’s enthralled,
While the masters lurk in thrall.

Bread and circus—same old sight,
Mindless fools chase hollow light.
Eyes locked only on the goal,
Lost their thoughts, but kept their role.



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



The Stinking Pit

Hey, Capone, just pour a shot!
As the Days of Filth run hot,
That brute’s kinder, I confess,
Than a traitor’s sly finesse.

CowID and warfare—what a sight!
But the gangsters kill a mite,
While corruption claims its due—
Cops and doctors slay us too.

Worse than bullets in the head
Is a soul that’s left for dead.
Fascists have a simple creed:
Make the world too dumb to read.

Find a mind? Good luck, my friend!
Rot and ruin—there’s no end.
Crushed by lies, we drown in spit:
Earth’s become a stinking pit.



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



Hollow Cravings

We crave too much—our souls wear thin,
Lost in passion, drowned in sin.
Chasing wants that have no weight,
Trapped in foolish schemes of fate.



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



Persistent Vulgarity

Vulgarity will find a way,
It creeps through cracks—it’s here to stay.
Yet all its care, both sharp and small,
Is just itself and nothing more.



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



Tanks Don’t Fear the Mud

Tanks don’t fear the mud and rain,
Dream of mines at night in vain.
Brave tank crews, so bold and eager,
Hear the call—attack grows bigger.

Fueled by LIES, they charge ahead,
Till they join the countless dead.
Scrap will melt, while sheep obey,
And foul fascism stays to stay.



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



Schr;dinger’s People

Schr;dinger’s cat just longs to see
Her fellow trapped in mystery.
Yes or no—she’s had enough,
This experiment is rough.

Pseudo-science runs the show,
Preaching nonsense, loud and proud.
Like a priest who claims to know,
Shoving madness in a shroud.

Cat’s in the box—so are we all,
Fools revealed by scum so small.
Death comes later, slow but sure,
Poison’s drip is never pure.

God will lift the lid one day,
See the trick—no truth, just play.
What’s inside? Hell’s burning glow,
For our Doom was man-made woe.



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



Shameful Deeds

What once was shame is now the norm,
Corruption thrives in perfect form.
The mob’s been led to crave disgrace—
It’s bottomed out without a trace.



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



The Fashion of Fools

Trendy waves corrode and drain
Talent, wallet, taste, and brain.
Yet a fool will proudly claim
It’s a simple, harmless game.

Not just clothing—trends consume
Mind and spirit, warp and doom.
Echoed nonsense fills the air,
Idiots repeat—don’t care.

Trends and patterns are the same,
Fashion stamps out thought with shame.
Branded cattle walk in line,
Marked by fools who call it fine.



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



Breeding Idiots

A question—wrong.
The answer—dumb.
And all along—
Another numb.



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



Rumors and Media

Like flies, the rumors swarm and stick,
Dumping filth on fools real quick,
Layered thick to cloud the mind,
Crushing thought in dirt confined.

And through the media they spread,
Each one dumber than the last.
No way out—just burn it dead,
Watch it rise again as fast.



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



A Cat Won’t Wag

A cat won’t wag its tail around—
It holds it high with pride.
No barks or howls will shake the ground—
Just dignity inside.



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



Wishful Lies

Desires and lies are tightly entwined—
"For fools, the best!" the fiends proclaim.
Yet all that they spawn is brutal and blind,
Just one more step in Hell’s own flame.



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



"Titanic" in Filth

Through fascist foul waters
The Titanic will drown.
Not ice slits its quarters—
But lies drag it down.

The best in all people—
That ship, torn apart.
No hope for a savior—
No "Chosen" to start.



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



Headlong to the Rift

Headstrong fool, heedless rush!
Doubt is cast aside!
Madmen cheer, they love the crush—
Frenzy is their guide.

Crave success? It's a dream,
All your hopes will rot.
Every effort feeds the scheme
Of those who raze the lot.

Duped again—what a joke!
Fiends will twist your fate.
Every impulse—rash and broke—
Drowns in lies and hate.

Greed and fear take the lead,
Drowning truth in mud.
All that’s left is filth and need,
Flesh and soul both flood.

Charge ahead—meet the fall,
Sink into the pit.
And beneath that lowest wall,
They’ll make you the nit.



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



No Shelter Left

No more burrows—doom is near,
When the mind is dull and drear.
Burrows plenty—"science," lies,
Fake religions, greed in ties.

"Economics" built for slaves,
Rage and rudeness—empty waves.
Blind obedience, stubborn stance—
None will give a fighting chance.

In the end, there’s no defense—
Solar Doom will claim us hence.



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



Personality: Hysteria

Reason’s lost, emotions flare,
Logic? None—it’s norm to err.
Cycles feed the wicked prize:
Rot prevails, and virtue dies.



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



The Cure for Crisis

"No day without a line,"—a plea,
Though nerves may snap, just let it be.
No flattery for fools—stand tall,
Or sink into the worst of all.

No crisis comes if you stay true,
Face your own depths with honest view.
Thus, you shall keep your spirit bright,
And let the Lyre blaze with light.

This cure is bitter—hard to take,
But saves your soul from false and fake.
Its fire burns the waste away,
So creativity can stay.



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



Soviet Nomenklatura

Culture and power—worlds apart,
So art is shackled, forced to fade.
No food for soul, no food for heart,
As thought is left to rot and jade.



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



Gloom

The ticking clock now speeds its chime—
Not outside, but deep inside.
The world is lost in fears and grime—
Seek the truth where souls reside.

The time is short—no pause, no stay,
So hurry, break the dark’s embrace.
Awake from gloom without delay,
Or let your soul dissolve in waste.



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



Fools on the Road to Hell

These fools obey the “holy” laws,
Submit to lies, embrace the dark.
They call all barriers to cause
The guiding lights, the sacred marks.

Yet down that road, through filth and grime,
They march as Hell unfolds ahead.
They bless the stench and call it prime,
While fiends deceive their empty heads.

The greater lies, the more they cheer,
Cursing those who fall behind,
Shielding fragile hides from fear,
Lest a doubt may scorch their mind.

The final turn—a sign appears:
"CowID" is written bold and bright.
They'll name it "Heaven" without tears,
And mask Hell’s shame in holy light.



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



Farewell, Fascism

Farewell, fascism—I have dwelled
With you since birth till old and gray.
Brief dreams of “joy” can’t overwhelm
The total madness of your sway.

Like fish adrift in boundless seas,
The dull crowd drifts toward the void,
Too blind to see the filth, the sleaze
That fascist "norms" have long destroyed.

Against all Nature stands this blight,
This rotten filth, depraved and vile.
But fate will set the balance right—
The truth will purge deceit and guile.

So few are worthy of this land,
So few deserve the right to stay.
They never join, they never stand—
Their fate is death. And so—away…



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



The Tyrant’s Wrong

The tyrant’s wrong,
But all along,
The filth will always rise on top—
And crush all reason till it stops...



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



The Old Tale of CowID, Told Again

CowID at a race—how strange...
Did athletes never fall before?
At peak, the body's in a range
Where balance wavers at its core.

A "diagnosis" drawn with ease—
The fiends have hatched a grand deceit,
A "global clinic" built to please,
Where lies are branded as a treat.

Their rule repeats the same old fraud,
Decay and madness flood the land.
Corruption spreads, the times are odd—
Yet still, they tighten their command.



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



The Ideology of Slaves

"You have also seen, being present in person,
the Lord’s death on the Cross, which He humbly accepted..."
— Commentary on the Epistle of James.


To meet one's death without a fight,
Forgiving all—this is the creed.
Its goal is clear: to breed a wight
Who bears abuse and calls it need,

Submits to any tyrant’s will.
This slave-born faith—a wretched lie,
A trick for fools, a bitter pill,
A cage where truth is left to die.



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



Death to Thought!

She shakes her curves—a million views.
A fool won’t read, won’t even choose
To glance at verse—so here’s the doom:
Just ban it all—death to thought’s bloom!



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



"Connecting" "yeast"

"Rose from knees"—then fell in slime,
Yeast of chains will rise in time.
Once they spread it through the fields,
Now it's all the nation yields.

Brains replaced—just wait and see,
Fools grow strong like some disease.
To this filth, a sacred brew,
Yeast of chains will serve as fuel.

Reason here can’t stand its ground,
Like a lily sinking down,
Like a man in spotless white
Drowned in filth, bereft of light.



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



Born in Hell, You Do Not Live

Born in Hell—you rot, not thrive,
Mind and spirit left deprived.
Only raze this Hell to dust,
Or we all will turn to rust.

CowID showed the grand decay,
Greed and madness rule the day.
Yet if cash is all we crave,
Rotten things won't get to stay.

Now the Cataclysm is near,
Wiping out blind fascist fear,
Crushing down the world’s facade—
Built for minds forever flawed.