Игорь Выхованец, стихи 7901-8000

Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 7901-8000



И с каждым годом всё труднее
Развеять ложь, ведь дебилизм
Растёт, становится подлее,
Наглей ТВАРЬЁ, гоня мир Вниз.




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Сад на дрова

"И дым отечества нам сладок и приятен!"
Александр Грибоедов.


Скудные душою:
Хлеба, зрелищ им!
Всё вокруг простое —
Словно едкий дым.

Дым терзает душу
Словно ДэДэТэ.
Никого не слушай —
Дьявол на кресте:

Принимать Безумие,
Всё терпеть — уволь!
С детства скудоумие
Прививают в голь.

Сторонись тех "саженцев"
И один ЦВЕТИ:
В чуждый сад посажены —
Чтоб дрова нести.

Подожжёт сад скоро
Солнце: едкий дым
Всё отравит. Впору
ДУМАТЬ — и чёрт с ним!



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TNT Equivalent of "Ideas"

A bullet’s blind, but "ideas"
Strike with force and sharp precision.
Now enslaved are all, defeated,
By a horde of blind submission.

For generations, we've been taught
Foolish lies to keep us caught,
Torn away from what the Soul
Whispers, trying to keep us whole.

But for madmen, "thoughts" bring healing—
Madness stronger, more appealing.
Floods of nonsense drown the wise;
Trust the LIARS—you’re despised.

Hear your Soul and doubt the preaching,
See how Evil keeps repeating.
In those "truths" its cycle shows—
And you’ll know their worth is close to zero.



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Petro Poroshenko

Poroshenko, years ahead,
Was a creep—enough was said.
Lies and filth—his heart's delight,
And the mob just cheered him bright.

Mob or people? What's the score?
When they vote a boxer—mob.
Trash floats higher—rules the floor,
Freedom? Never. Just a fob.

Yet that trash is pre-arranged
Not by crowds, but those unseen.
From the lineup, fools deranged
Choose the liar they call king.



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Tokyo Olympics

Games postponed, yet here they stand,
Masked-up "athletes" on demand.
Even Orwell, sharp and keen,
Never guessed this wild scene.

CowID rules—absurd, extreme,
Darker than a nightmare’s dream.
Minds are buried, reason’s gone,
Sheep-lined world—marching on.



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To Fall or Not to Fall?

To survive, to play it right—
Fall to Hell, embrace the night.
Better yet—just chase the throne,
Serve the SHADOWS, not your own.

Fade away—or dare to shine,
Speak your soul, let wisdom climb!



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To Drag and Keep

Drag them down, don’t let them rise,
Pull again, with bitter lies.
To deceive, without a care—
That’s the mark of those in power’s snare.



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The Scum of Real Shadow Power

"Free press" is silenced, all of it tight,
In the CowID era, spreading false light.
Politicians-clowns — no power to wield,
Just scum beneath, with nothing to yield.



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News of the Coming Digital Chaos—Or Rather, a Camp

Honor or bread—
Soon the test.
Hear the news:
World's a mess.



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Olympics in London

CowID agenda—
It must be displayed!
The same old "defenders"
Work hard, undismayed.

Their duty? To warn us,
To spread it beforehand,
No riddles to warn us,
No twists—just a plain hand.

The hag, grim and clever,
Declared with no shame:
"A new age—forever...
The drama's endgame!"



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Propaganda

Stop! It's trash—
Beasts' loud clash!
That’s the media,
Believe it? Fool, you are.



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Versification

The opening line must strike with might—
Then all the verse will burn so bright.
Or at the least, stay true, sincere—
Without that fire, none will hear.



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The End of the World

We draw the line:
The world’s decline,
And all will fall into the flame,
For two-thirds are blind to shame.
Soullessness spread like a disease—
And we, in truth, are none but fleas.



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Pskov Paratroopers in Ukraine, 2014

Pskov’s troops went rolling in,
Crossed the line in wool and tin.
"Just a break," they said—"Alright,
What a perfect place to fight!"

Shooting’s fun—until you fall,
Bullets don’t ask names at all.
"Leaders" lie with all their might,
Turn the TV—see the sight:

"Nazis here, a threat so grand!"
Pure deceit—a sleight of hand.
Thus were born the brainwashed horde,
Slaves to lies, to "Z" adorned.



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The Corrupt "Subculture"

Editors, chief,
Ministry's belief—
All are for sale,
A twisted tale.
In Evil's wheel,
When skins reveal.



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Rest for Body, Rest for Mind

Rest the body, rest the mind,
Honor Nature, you will find
That when you push yourself too hard,
Your goals will fade, your strength will guard.



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;A Garden for Firewood

"The homeland’s smoke is sweet and bright!"
— A. Griboedov

Souls run empty, cold inside—
Bread and circuses provide.
All they see is dull and grim,
Like the stench of choking brim.

Smoke, like poison in the air,
Burns the heart beyond repair.
"Bow to madness, bear it all!"
Fools are taught since they are small.

Shun the "saplings"—grow alone,
Blossom in the wild, unknown.
Planted there to fuel the flame,
They will burn—to ash, to shame.

Soon the sun will set it right,
Fire rising, smoke in flight.
Let it smother—let them choke,
Time to think—forget the smoke!



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The Allegory of Show Jumping

A horse of grace, a fool astride,
Yet for the crowd, he’s praised with pride.
But time will come—just wait and see,
He’ll take the fall—inevitably.

The world’s a course, absurd and grim,
Its folly neither new nor dim.
Riders hollow, cold as stone—
The BEASTS rejoice—they're on the throne.



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"Sages"

These "yard-born sages," wise and grand,
Think like sheep—don’t understand.
Led on leashes, blind, they go,
Slaughter-bound by those they know.



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Sleep Deprivation Kills

Lack of sleep is worse than pain,
Drains your mind with each new strain.
Step by step, as strength declines,
Dreams will fade, lost to time.

Rest enough—don’t push too hard,
Creativity’s a spark
Only lit when you’re renewed,
Bringing change with power true.



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Two Paths

"Life’s no field to simply cross."
— Old proverb

Crossing life like field so wide?
Just jump in place—enjoy the ride.
Dare to walk beyond, go far?
The mob will call you a fool, bizarre.



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;With Every Year

With every year, the task grows tough,
To clear the lies, to call their bluff.
As ignorance spreads, it grows more vile,
And beasts grow bolder, worse in style,

Driving the world to depths below—
The lies, the fools, they steal the show.



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A World Distorted by False Science

A twisted world, a broken view—
False "science" makes it seem so true.
Its goal? To raise a mindless fool,
And if you trust—you're just a tool.

They feed you lies, erase the Soul,
Blind the world—divide, control.
Their scholars bow to those who rule,
Deceitful servants—cunning, cruel.

See the beasts, their minds confined,
Like Pavlov’s cattle, trapped, resigned.
Faith in falsehood shapes their fate—
Marching dumb to science fake.

Truth is gone—who needs the proof?
Dogma reigns—no need for truth.
Reason lost, they heed the call—
Two-legged beasts devour it all.



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Fencing

A dulled-off blade, yet swift it flies.
The first to strike—the first who's right.
As for the one who bravely dies?
Forgotten soon by cautious might.



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Fatigue

Drained out—
No doubt,
Fire’s out.
Wait till
Strength returns,
Then fight and burn—
If you’ve got will.



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Changes

What comes next?
It’s hard to tell...
In plain words—
A fool as well.



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Zombie Warriors

The macho rides
Towards his foe.
Who’s the enemy?
The media will show!



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Губозавёртыватель надо
Во всех киосках продавать:
Так Тьма нам не испортит "радость" —
И дальше будем под Обманом спать...




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Ферма гавваха

Как кур во щи —
И не взыщи!
Безумный мир:
Бесплатный сыр

Не в мышеловках,
А в квартирах
Гавваха фермы —
В целом мире...




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Отрава лжерелигий

"Религия мешает людям видеть, потому что она под страхом вечных наказаний запрещает им смотреть".
Дени Дидро, XVIII-ый век.


Не Смотри — талдычь "писанья":
Укрепляй идею — раб
"Боженьки", фашистской срани,
Что как следствие. Ослаб

Ум, а Дух скатился в пропасть 
Ереси тлетворных схем —
Все "идеи" Чёрт из жопы
Вытащил, чтоб слеп и нем

Был с рожденья и до смерти
Ты в удушливом мирке.
Лишь Душе забитой верь ты,
А не в "счастье вдалеке".



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"Счастье" дурака

"Я не пожелал бы счастья, если бы ради него надо было стать дураком".
Вольтер.


Вопрос смешон —
Дурак лишь "счастлив":
Коль Зла вагон,
В Душе ненастья...




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Исковеркали умы
Средь убогой кутерьмы,
Превращая Души в лёд,
Как "нормальность" чтя Зла Гнёт.




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Не надо ждать от жизни чуда —
Как в страшной сказке в оной всё:
"Наверх" идут одни паскуды.
Итог — Убогое Гнильё.



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Барановирус

В Бедламе всякое бывает,
Но чтоб ТАК! ТУПО!!! — в первый раз:
Умишки нелюдь добивает —
Сплошь Ложь как ядовитый газ.



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Бутерброд с горчицей

Горчица жизни идиотской,
А труд напрасный — чёрствый хлеб.
Но мир по-прежнему столь! плотский!!! —
Напоминает больше хлев.

Чужд`ы Духовные Порывы
Для большинства — таков расклад.
В "умах" тлетворной лжи нарывы.
И мало кто в Хлеву не гад.



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Юность и старость

Пошёл с утра навстречу Солнцу,
Во Мраке глянув за оконце.
К закату снова в Мрак вернулся —
Пред Злом в беспамятстве прогнулся.




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Памятники

На кладбищах стоят они,
Как будто не убоги дни
При жизни были, а в могиле —
Кто утопал в Уме и Силе.



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Когда-то был ты юным хватом...
Что ныне? ...лишь ругаться матом...



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Все легковерные старались
Устроить "счастье" между бурь.
На оптимизЬму вновь попались.
Наживкой чушь, проглотом дурь. 




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The Petition System

Vote and cheer—no real choice.
Blind and deaf, the people stay.
Idiots, rejoice! Rejoice!
Now it’s you who rule the day.

Pick a puppet—just a token,
Spun by one corrupt brigade.
Madmen march to chants unspoken,
Drummed by lies their masters made.

"Pay your debts"—the cry is spreading,
"Citizen" must heed the call.
War or "sickness", self-unthreading,
Dying’s duty most of all.

Media beasts control the masses,
Guide them like a mindless horde.
Fools are glad to serve as glasses
For the talking head they’re poured.

Yet they claim it's "good"—how clever!
Only few can see the game.
Darkness rules the world forever,
Bound by Evil’s endless chain.



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The Pendulum of a Creative Soul and the Struggle of the Mediocre

Struggle's not a pendulum,
But a slide down low—
A monument to foolishness,
A triumph of madness’ glow.

The pendulum swings—
Light, Knowledge— Dark.
The creative never falters,
Or madness leaves its mark.

The pendulum swings to Dark—
Close your mind, retreat.
But when it swings to Light—
Create, and life’s complete!



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The Ram’s Hell

Fears and lies on every screen,
Yet the rams still heed the scene.
They can't break free, they can't awake—
The Ram's Hell goes on, for their sake.



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To Die for the Global Asylum

"Live, be dead, be truly dead. Do all you wish— it will be well."
Bunan.

The splinter of this shabby life
Lodges deep within your mind.
Pull it out— let it burst forth,
Shame and misery intertwined!

As though you were dead,
But not a heap of waste—
The Spirit’s borders erased,
And with it, war is chased.

The war’s fought by the twisted ones,
Who made you their slave.
And all the troubles you face,
Are artificial, misbehaved.

Expand your mind, so simply—
That’s the way to go.
Otherwise, you'll perish a fool,
Propping up the Asylum's flow.



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The Abyss of Satanism

Standards matter—goods must last!
Schooling? Now that’s just a laugh.
Dumbed-down minds, no guiding form—
Fuel to feed the abyss’s storm.



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Total Slavery

You can leave—at least it seems,
So is slavery just dreams?
But escape? Now that's a trick—
The world’s a prison, walls too thick.



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The Carrot of "Knowledge"

The fool sees knowledge as a prize—
Pass all your tests, and soon you’ll be
A learned ass in foolish skies,
Content in hollow company.

But dare to add a bit of nerve,
And you will lead the blind along—
So long as you know how to serve
The "duce" keeping your herd strong.

That truths are bent, that lies run deep—
Such things don’t bother donkeys' minds.
They only crave what they can keep—
The promise of their petty finds.



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Chipollino is the Only Man

Chipollino’s the only man
Among the veggies, standing tall.
The cucumbers will find a plan
To heed the rulers of them all.



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Dreams in Dreams and in "Awake"

"Life and dreams are pages of the same book."
— Arthur Schopenhauer


You keep turning through the pages
Full of nightmares, lies, and pain.
Wake up "conscious"—fool for ages,
Just to fall asleep again.

Yogis train to dream while knowing,
Yet it's hard—the gods still sleep.
That is why this world keeps glowing
Like a festering, filthy heap.

Be a god! Don't fear the ending,
Burn the rot down to the ground!
Stop decay—no more pretending,
Let the flames consume the mound.

Sunlight helps—it sees the reason,
Burns the bottom year by year.
Each new season, with more treason,
Sinks still deeper in the smear.

Spirit’s realm will rise thereafter—
There, a god must take his throne.
Dice in hand, you'll play with laughter,
Crafting worlds to call your own.



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Sacred Grounds

The cross shines brightly all around,
Gold gleams with beauty, pure delight!
But to the soul of a bound man,
It pulls with force, though not so right...

For the Free Spirit, it’s dark and grim,
A life of toil and weariness within.
To them, any place is blessed and true,
Where Enlightenment comes without the view.



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Easier With Time

Hour by hour, it feels less dire
Swimming hard against the tide—
For the Soul. Yet some require
Struggles measured, pain applied.



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Running in defiance of sex

No troubles haunt your private life
If you avoid its heated thrill.
More space for thought, much less of strife,
And peace that bends to steady will.

Hormones can rest—let miles inspire,
For running’s faithful through the years.
It won’t betray like burnt-out fire,
Unless excess brings pains and tears.

Fights cut much deeper than the track,
And claims can wound more than a fall.
No shame from treachery attacks—
Just herbal tea instead of all.



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Masks and Fools

The foe appears as a kindly uncle,
Yet in deeds, he's ruthless, cruel.
But for ages, fools adore the masks,
The simpletons and jester’s tasks—
"Real men," they say, "the golden rule."



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Cadres decide everything

Schools of Pol Pot and informers' brigade,
Goebbels' own studio, lessons in hate.
Doctors like Mengele—monsters are made,
Crafted to keep us all under the weight.

Geniuses? No, that’s too much of a task—
Raising new Hitlers is harder to do.
But turning a thug into one with a mask?
Just start him in law enforcement crew.

Hitler once shouted of nation’s great need,
Branded a villain when all came to light.
Now the same monsters are learning his creed—
“Health” and “progress” their banners in sight.

“Health” won the war on CowID they spread,
“Progress” has lit up a battlefield’s flame.
Fools nod along as they're easily led,
Fighting and "healing" in ignorant shame.

Now there are legions—too many to save,
Hope for this world is fading to none.
It crumbles to filth, a fast-rushing wave,
And Satan stands as the last worshiped one.



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Enslavement by "Ideas"

The fascist’s talk is sharp,
The humane, so meek and mild.
Like a blank sheet,
The people beguiled.

Not enough for all—
Give them "the idea,"
To bend the fools,
And rule them forever, in fear.



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Crooked Comparisons

A fascist, like a leaf,
Falls into the Autumn's sway.
But the CREATURE, like a worm,
Gnaws at all that’s in the way.

The fascist, a CREATURE,
Grows upon the tree of doom.
The king is formal,
His enemies in the womb.

Winter comes,
The CREATURES will survive.
But the fool,
Once more, won’t stay alive.



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Metamorphoses

Kalashnikovs—pencils bright,
Drawing wars into the night.
But the soul's true revelation,
To hell with it—world's damnation.



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"Imperial Spirit" of a Rotten Colony

In the marshlands, fools are rushing,
Craving war without a clue.
Ruled by scum, their world keeps crushing,
Sinking deep into the blue.

"Imperial faith" is choking,
Binding all with iron chains.
Few rebel, defy the yoke, and
Face the wrath of mindless brains.

No bright future—none in sight,
Stupor drags them far below.
Brave ones fall without a fight,
Death has come to steal the show.

Judgment's near—the scum must perish,
Clean your house, rebuild anew.
Only peace is worth to cherish,
Else you’ll march to Hitler’s doom.

Cargo-f;hrers play their roles,
Clumsy puppets, petty trolls.



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"He who doesn’t work, shall not eat"
In those words, slavery’s no disguise.
But that's old news. The new "test" we greet—
CowID’s the trial for the broken lies.



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In ignorance, there’s peace of mind—
Like cows in stables, calm and still.
Enlightenment is not a bind—
It’s alchemy. The fate, the will.



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Туман тлетворного мирка

"Ты всматриваешься в туман и поэтому можешь внушить себе, что цель уже близка. Но туман рассеивается, а цель еще не видна".
Людвиг Витгенштейн.


Туман тлетворного мирка,
Где испаренья лжи повсюду,
Скрывает цель, что далека.
И в сторону ведут паскуды.

Про цели думай сам, они
Ясны, когда Душа не мёртва.
Паскуды — слуги Сатаны:
За мзду работают, упёрты.

Тумана больше с каждым днём —
Он развевается лишь в бреднях.
И скоро все в нём догниём,
Ведь самый честный здесь "последний".




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Планы Зла на длительный срок

"Что страшнее смерти ты можешь пожелать своему врагу? Успокойся! Твой враг умрет, и тебе не придется даже мизинцем пошевелить".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.


Глупость машет чрез века:
Убедили дурака —
Нами правят единицы.
Кланы Зла? То только мнится?

Совершенно очевидно,
Планы длительны. Постыдно
Верить клоунам "вверху",
А когда они в гробу,

То считать — свершилось дело.
Нелюдь лжёт весьма умело,
Подставляет лишь труху,
Что для дурней "наверху".

Скрытны твари, в поколеньях
Чтут Науку Разложенья,
Чрез века передают.
Разлагать рабов — их труд.




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Деградация в заблуждениях

"Человек уже давно находится в заблуждении".
Лао-цзы, V-ый век до н.э.


Века идут, а заблужденья
Лишь возрастают, потому
Отбрось навязанные мненья,
Служа Душе, а не уму.

Ум формируют Твари Ада
Чрез "воспитанье", жизДни строй.
А впрочем, думать тоже надо,
Но отрезвлённой головой:

Поможет в этом интуиция —
То связь Души с твоим умом.
Иначе мира деградация
Смешает вновь тебя с дерьмом. 




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Гонка в Ад

"Ковыляющий по прямой дороге опередит бегущего, который сбился с пути".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, XVII-ый век.


Весь мир отправили на гонку —
Бабло, "успех" и прочий вздор.
В ней расшибаются — подонки
В том ловят кайф. Наперекор

Иди, ползи, беги, коль можешь, —
Дорога в Ад не для тебя.
Пускай чуток пройти ты сможешь,
Спасая Душу, Свет любя,

Исполнишь долг свой перед Духом.
Иное — мерзость, ерунда.
Пожертвуй, если надо, брюхом —
Не гонка уж, а на убой БЕГУТ стада.



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Жить своим умом

"Остерегайтесь тех, кто хочет вменить вам чувство вины, ибо они жаждут власти над вами".
Конфуций.


Школа. Выучен урок?
Ересь Тьмы — убогий "бог":
Грех, покаялся? Опять
Это будут повторять

На работе и в семье,
Разум твой топя в говне
Глупых "норм" и прочей чуши.
Только Ум и Душу слушай!..



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Изгоняет он чертей,
Правды Свет. Среди людей
Полу-чёрт обычный фрукт —
Оттого так много врут...



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Слепоглухонемые трусливые дураки

Слепо-, глухо-, немо —
Нет важнее темы.
Разве только глупость,
Злу покорность, трусость.



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Global Madness

Springtime’s here, the madness grows—
Yes, that’s right—CowID’s the key!
We control the wretched flows,
Lies have almost set us free.



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



Heat and the Wires Melt

The heat—and wires start to fry,
In Soviet homes, a desperate try.
If it's not vodka in your hand,
You’ll play the box, my friend—just stand.



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



A Circus on a Wire

"Choosing presidents"—what a show!
A circus played on tightropes high.
The dumbed-down crowd must never know—
Deception rules, and truth’s a lie.

Propaganda spins the wheel,
Lifts a fool like Bush up tall.
Soulless jesters love to deal
Kingship to the lowest thrall.

Puppets bow to wicked lords—
Thus it’s always been before.
Fools are trapped in false accords,
Jesters rule forevermore.

A circus real—not just a play,
Theater's but a hollow dream.
If the world’s in Hell’s decay,
Then lies are opium supreme.



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



Exists Only What the Screen Declares

What says the screen—that must be real,
No other world outside.
Dark is now the light they feel,
Truth is flipped and cast aside.

CowID, fear, the fools obey,
Another war in sight.
They "care"—or so they say,
But care has drowned us tight.

The world sank deep in blind submission,
Hell knocks beneath the floor.
We've almost breached the last partition—
Three out of four—mad to the core.



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



Wild Game

Fences small yet close together—
People fail to break on through.
Many lost their best endeavors,
Struck by lies, disguised as true.

Falsehoods flourish, masks appealing,
Sugar-coated, painted bright.
Still in caves—our darkened ceilings,
Kin is "kin" and that feels right.

Nations, kennels filled with barking,
Set to clash in frenzied lies.
Feudal order, crude and starking,
Seems more human, seems more wise.

Times grow bitter, times grow colder,
Cruel, deceitful—on and on.
And the verdict, growing bolder:
We have reached the very BOTTOM.



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



Curfew for Fools

Curfew falls for fools outside,
The streets are empty, cold, and wide.
The wise stay home, their minds intact,
For they know—the world is but a fact.



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



"Wise" and Other Rabble

Rabble’s mark—you’ll often find it
Stamped on "clever" heads as well.
Not just birth, but those who’d blind it,
Selling truth their souls would sell.

If you cheer while lies are spreading,
Aid the rot and play along,
Know—you join the mindless herding,
Spewing nonsense, loud and strong.



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



Vile Traitors

The cash is gone—so fast it flew,
CowID declared in every nation.
But soon it chokes them, through and through,
A thorn unseen—yet no salvation.

No time to pay for what they’ve done—
These Judases will rot and perish.
The filth they spread will come undone,
The Earth won’t keep what none should cherish.

Yet few are pure—so loss is small,
Corruption weakens its foundation.
A better people soon will call
For kindness, strength, and restoration.

And what of those who stand alone?
We’ll see—the time itself will show it.
But liars bred by demons’ throne
Still flood the world, and devils stoke it.



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



Should I Multiply "Joy"?

Should I seek to multiply joy?
Well, frankly, I don’t care.
Awareness, that’s my only ploy,
Though bitterness fills the air.



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



Progress or Press?

The Wheel of Samsara CRUSHES
Fools with progress—empty lies.
The soul’s rebirth, it just pushes—
Hell’s PRESS will bring their demise!

Look around—are they still human,
Or icons of Satan’s reign?
Soft jelly fills their skulls, and
Their feelings burn with endless pain.

Driven by emotions’ fury,
Creatures march towards their doom—
Wars, fake plagues—their lies are blurry,
Peddling anything to bloom.

A few exceptions—statistical mistake,
But darkness drags each generation’s wake.
To deny the truth is sinful, so,
Seeing death—that’s the mortal woe...



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



Hermit Crab

My idol is the hermit crab,
A lazy soul, I don’t need lab.
To hell with life, I’m free, no care,
All my poems, just for me to share.

In everything, the pests will find,
A profit-seeking, greedy mind.



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



"Upbringing" and the Future Path

A toddler bears a heavy load—
Rules of bondage, set in stone.
Then he walks life's narrow road:
Coward, traitor… or just prone

To be foolish. Odds are high—
That’s his fate, unless one day
He resists and dares to try
Walking his own, freer way.

If he learns to think, not trust
Lies disguised as "wisdom" bright,
He will cast off Hell’s own rust,
Spread his wings and take to flight.

If in dreams and not awake,
Still, the day may come at last—
If he dares the veil to break,
Hell will fade into the past.

To the Spirit’s heights ascend,
But beware—one truth is raw:
Those who never dream or fend
Serve as chains for Evil’s law.



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



Horses at the Crossing

Horses die at the crossing's edge,
Left bank, right—both lead to dread.
From the mud to worse we ride,
Wait a bit—there’s no respite.
Rest? Unlikely—they’ll decide,
The beasts will beat you down with pride.



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



SOS, or The Theater Starts with a Cloakroom, Hell—With Lies

A play begins where coats are hung,
But Hell is born from whispered lies.
And if you scan the news with eyes,
You'll see—deceit just multiplies.

The goal? To spread a Satan’s creed,
Corrupt the souls and twist the mind.
And oh, how well they sow the seed—
Now fascist rot is far and wide.

A world wrapped tight in fake delusion,
Lies upon lies—a grim decree.
Dishonor grows in dark profusion,
Defying nature’s purity.

Decay will spread, no way to halt it,
The point of no return is near.
A few more years—the end is calling...
"Now Saving Cattle—on the air!"



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



The World—A Dead Man’s Cart

The cart of death rolls on,
Its journey nearly gone.
No mercy, no revision—
The end is no decision.

So do not heed the mind,
But leave regrets behind.
Let spirit guide your motion—
A path, not mere devotion.

Just seek—don’t fear the night,
For seeking is the light.
The goal is not essential,
But seeking’s quintessential...

The mind may lead astray,
And cast you in delay.
The soul’s pure transformation
Is seen through revelation...



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



The Chancellor’s Deceit

The chancellor's schemes have led the way,
And in that filth, the people stray.
Believe the creatures, lose your soul—
No talent, no worth, no goal.



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



Read, Reader—See the Lie, Viewer

Read on, dear reader—watch, observer,
As heaps of filthy lies expand.
Deceitful words, a sly corrupter,
Plant mirages in your hand.

It’s staged with skill, a mass production,
To rot the soul—that is the aim.
The devil thrives on mind destruction,
A herd of husks—his perfect game.

He builds a Pen—so vast, enclosing
A third of Earth within its wall.
And as the world in lies keeps dosing,
Fake plagues arise to doom us all.



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



Murder of Mind and Talent by Overloading Memory with Nonsense

School exam – a child’s trial,
Workaholics, rise once more!
How much longer will denial
Crush young minds through mem’ry’s door?

How much longer will they force us,
Through their programs, through their rules?
This concern is most enormous
For the foes of kids and schools.

Schemes are crafted by the schemers –
Dumbing down’s their hidden aim.
Parents fail to see the dreamers
Taken hostage in this game...

What to learn? Not what—but thinking!
Through the spark of keen finesse!
Dullards rise, their reason sinking—
Schooling’s weight brings mind’s distress.



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



News of Hell

The news is just a load of lies,
Propaganda fills the skies.
Not a day without the waste,
Insanity’s their latest taste.

They watch the fools with broken minds,
The result: nothing—just a grind.
Zero’s stretched to nothing more,
And Black God laughs forevermore.



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



Pseudo-life Hanging by a Thread

Since childhood, hanging by a thread,
You don’t fall—you just drift away.
Seems you’ve found a way instead
To make that thread your home, they say.



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



The Herd of Turtles

Shell of lies—you bear it proudly,
Thicker grows it every day.
Scoundrels shaped it, stacking loudly—
Truth? It’s long been burned away.

If your mind is dull and hollow,
Reason lost without a trace,
Soon your shell will feel too shallow—
Then they’ll lay you in your place.

And the others, creeping, crawling,
Won’t break free or drift apart.
They will march where lies are calling,
Herded turtles—what a art!



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



A Tiny Orchestra of Hope

The band collapsed. Its minstrel pawned
His lute to chase the sirens’ tune.
Their maestro, ragged, sick, withdrawn,
Replaced by brutes who sneer and swoon.

A grand new orchestra arose,
Conducted by a Goat of Blight.
It plays for Evil, loud and close,
In concert halls where fools delight.

Yet those who think retreat within
To seek the Sound that once was pure,
Where harmony is not a sin,
Beyond the devils’ overture.

But solitude's a heavy weight—
No servants trailing in the dust.
If rescue comes, it’s left to fate...
Yet even God has drowned in rust.

So hope is lost, and strength is spent,
No will to stomach one more scene.
Deceit and madness set the trend,
And fools are crowned as kings supreme.



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



Behind Closed Doors

Behind closed doors, we won't remain
As humans long—then comes the pain.
They'll sweep us up, one by one,
And end the world we've come undone.

A Digital Camp is rising high,
If your mind’s still sharp, don't let it die.
Seek paths to save what can be saved—
Unite with those who haven’t caved.



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



Came, Saw, and... Bought

I felt good, you see—
Watched ads on TV.
What’s this? You gape at me?
Don’t you have your own spree?

Look, go on, buy it now—
You’re nearly Napoleon!
First, stack up the cash—
That’s the simple law we’re on.



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



The Poison of False Faiths

Don't you look—just chant the pages,
Bow and strengthen chains within.
"God's command!"—the vile contagion
Spawns its offspring: fear and sin.

Mind grows dull, and Spirit falters,
Lost in heresy's decay.
All their "truths" were pulled from altars
Built in Hell to blind and sway.

From your birth until your ending,
Trapped within this stifling haze.
Trust your soul—its voice unbending,
Not false hopes in distant days.



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



Omnivore

The people’ll swallow, eat it all,
Always begging for some more.
Those extra bites, a tightening thrall,
Yet herds keep chewing, as before.



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



Don't Be an Ass...

"Woe" to minds that dare to stray—
Hell and ruin come, they say.
Meek and "righteous" fools obey,
Chained by lies they can't betray.

If despair should cloud your sight,
Sin it’s not to seek delight.
Raise some hell, cause some alarm—
Live in Bedlam, safe from harm.

Fools are countless—worse than blades,
Duller minds bring darker shades.
Executioners may kill,
Idiots do greater ill.

Raised among the dull and tame,
Trapped within their sheepish game—
Chains of meekness weigh you down,
Break or sink—it's all they allow.

No good reason, no fair trial,
They will crush you in denial.
So stay alone, stay sharp, stay whole—
Or wear the ears and play the role.



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



"Wisdom"

Blockhead figured lies and spite
Can help one rise in life’s cruel fight.
With honor, mind, and pride—he'll see
A life of endless poverty.

Betrayal, too, will pave the way—
A world where flaws win every day.
Evil's power will show them all—
True wisdom’s just a clever call.



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



The Soulful Wounds of the Sheep

Pouring salt into the wound,
Claiming it’s iodine, too—
Old as time, yet sheep are doomed,
Believing lies as they push through.

From the pen, once shaved and shorn,
Straight to slaughter, they’re led on.
“Kindness” now is bile reborn—
The BEASTS “heal” for a reason gone.



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



The Stench of Dull Surroundings

The fools preach lessons, dull and hollow,
Their minds as flat as their clich;s.
Their sacred texts? Not worth a swallow—
Just shoot the junk and numb the haze.

"Go vote!" they cry, "defend your rights!"
As if the cage could set you free.
The god they fear keeps fiends in sight—
A horned one grins. They bow their knees.

Their words disgust, their faces tire,
Like rotten swine in filth they play.
Yet pigs seem noble—rising higher
Than those who still resemble clay.



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



The World's Rear End

Where’s the ass-end of the world?
Now that we’ve hit rock-bottom, hurled,
It’s everywhere you look, it seems—
Only a few escape the screams.



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



Moscow, Unmoved by Tears

Moscow, with no tears to show,
Opened wide the doors below
To fascism's wretched roar—
Blended with stupidity’s core.



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



Variable Cloudiness

Cloudy, yet NOT changing still,
Drifting on with time’s own flow—
Endless drift, no hope to fill—
The sun’s rays are not for show.



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



Swallowing the Stench of Lies

The scum leaves marks, a bitter trace,
Having swallowed lies and waste,
Brewing chaos in its wake—
Toxic fumes that scorch and break.
Yet in ignorance, he’s blessed…