Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 8001-8500
Канем в лету,
Слуги Бреду,
Страха, Мерзости рабы —
Нет иной для нас судьбы.
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Нет — безумному миру!
Мысли — не причисли
Их всегда к своим:
Тучи лжи нависли —
Ими ум гнобим.
Своего в нём мало,
А всеобщий бред
Львиной долей — стало
Трудно крикнуть "нет!"
Нет безумной власти,
Стыд её рабам!
Крикнуть "нет!" за счастье:
Нет — Гнилой Бедлам!!!
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Ласковое море —
Позабыл его.
Впрочем, то не горе:
Глади торжество
На реке заменой —
Плавай, не тужи.
В жизДни перемены —
Стало меньше лжи...
Вариант последней строфы:
На реке заменой —
Плавай, не скучай.
В беге перемены —
Меньше. Глупый "рай"...
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Goebbels' Press
Goebbels' media's all around—
No shortage of Judas to be found.
Far more fools who blindly trust,
Deceived by lies, they turn to dust.
CowID and war so bright,
Revealed it all, a ghastly sight.
Like poultices for the dead man’s pain,
The wise preach, but sheep march to their bane.
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Ace Beats the King
The ace beats king—this hand’s a test,
The cards lay out the truth’s unrest.
Above, the shadows pull the strings;
To them, the king’s just one of things.
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Where’s the Statistic?!
Robin Bobbin Barabek
Ate forty souls, what the heck…
How many has the junk in CowID?
Unknown—darkness, shame, and dread.
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Born to Crawl in Lies
A people born to crawl in lies
Can never grasp the truth’s full sight.
No time to change, for "foreign spies
Are grasping at the country's might."
The same old tale, again, again,
They'll spin their lies for all to hear.
Oppression's root is clear, my friend—
It’s always built on lies and fear.
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Football Fantasy
“A goal in the locker room”—then fall,
Lie down and think of times gone by,
A moment missed, though shameful, all,
To trip like that—it’s hard to try.
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Beer... Culture!
Fate, indeed, is a fool:
Where were you born, my friend?
Happiness—did you not bend?
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The Pyramid of Social Foolery, or "The Vertical of Power"
The "suits" are parts of the pyramid,
But the "vertical" is upside down:
At the top, the scum are hid,
And the king—a lying clown.
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Lack of Courage
We lack the courage, that’s the truth,
So fascism’s orders come uncouth.
The fools, they suit up in a rush,
With helmets, masks, and bags to crush,
Together, quickly leave their lairs,
Marching with blind and soulless stares.
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The Primary Truth
“Knowledge” often leads astray,
A path that ends in dark dismay.
Humble your mind, let instincts guide,
Embrace this truth, don’t run and hide.
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The Non-Paradise Grove
No need to guess with coffee grounds,
Or Tarot cards, or mystic sights,
For we’re surrounded by the bounds
Of groves—yet Hell is where it bites.
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Little by Little
Little by little, we ascend,
Our minds awaken, but it’s spent.
It doesn’t save us, though, in fact—
For fear’s like bombs, and lies like gas.
Lies and fear have gripped us tight,
No ways to save us from this plight.
That’s why so many fall and sink
Into the dull, obscene, and stink.
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The Lies of the Beast
The beast marks Earth with lies it spouts,
Like dogs who mark their every route.
It’s hard to see through twisted schemes,
When people crawl like worms, it seems,
Within the womb of Nature’s care,
To lies and fear, they all comply.
In short: the lies, the fools, the scare,
Are ruled by filth that’s led to die.
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Allies with North Korea
They’re friends with North Korea, true—
“Smart to the smart, and I to you.”
Rashism’s fate will surely bend
With Kim, and guns that never end.
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Mental Lilliputians
A tiny pity it inspires—
Not for this was life begun.
Yet still the fool, with mind on fire,
Serves evil, and gets nothing done.
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"The Cup of Life" Shattered
The cup of life has cracked and split—
The filth has conquered all of it.
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The Hellish Groves
The groves grow thicker every year—
The human soul disappears here.
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The Great Game
The stakes are high, the game is vast,
It’s time to leave, but greed holds fast.
It strangles tight, it blinds the mind,
The end is near, a bitter kind.
You love the thrill, the risky play,
But don’t be bold—beware the sway.
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Propaganda and Other Matters
Our Masha stirs the bitter brew,
While one more fool serves bitter stew,
Turning minds to filth and muck,
And law is served with chains and luck.
Masha’s break may come too soon—
In a madhouse or a cell,
Should the beasts begin to swoon,
She’ll follow them, as all things quell.
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The Free Ride
Free ride! Propaganda’s here,
And junk’s new—let’s all cheer!
The bastard’s plans are cruel, no doubt,
A "hippo’s plague" to wipe us out.
It’s easy to fool the mindless herd,
To convince them with a word.
And we’ll die for nothing, cold and stark—
For a new dose of their dark spark.
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On Parasites, or the Enormous Monstrous Lie
The cat—
A flea.
The man—
A lie: it grows from age to age.
A man, like fleas, on lies will cling—
Even the cat will find it strange.
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Noodles for the Ears
A proverb’s not a tale,
You needn’t always lie.
But excuses prevail—
“It’s hard,” they’ll often cry.
It’ll be too dry,
Of little interest, yes.
The ear’s become a lie,
Pressed with noodles, no less.
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Баранья демократия
Кто будет стричь — весьма условен
Бараний выбор: общность касс
У стригунов. Для них верховен
Клан теневой — на пирамиде глаз.
Фасоны стрижки одобряет
Всё тот же глаз, а потому
Баран в неведеньи лажает —
Свобода грезится ему.
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Закон
Закон всегда стоит на страже —
Им запечатана тюрьма.
Фитюльки эти пишет враже.
Средь "демократии" дерьма —
Условных прав — в нём красной нитью
Система рабства введена.
Вне нити нормы стали гнилью:
Сума всеобщая — тюрьма.
Коль три четвёртых глупый нищий,
Мир стал тюрьмой. А "наверху"
Сидельцы знатные — пусть сотни тысяч,
То лишь приманка дураку:
Пойдёт "наверх" — систему рабства
Он этим будет укреплять.
Не надо старого тиранства:
Закон вновь будет создавать
Калейдоскоп, который будет
От сути мира отвлекать.
В тени Лихой Тиран пребудет —
Через Систему разлагать
Он будет дальше мир убогий:
Злом деградация — Закон.
И лишь в репрессиях он строгий,
Гоня "гарантии" все вон
Чрез бюрократию и акты,
Что подзаконными зовут, —
Вот настоящие теракты!
Но то прикрыто — знатно лгут!
И конституцию ты можешь
Спустить с дерьмом всем в унитаз.
Коль беспристрастно подытожишь
Всю мерзость, ДОБИВАЮТ нас —
Унылый вывод. То говнидом
Показано, как и войной.
Друг, подчиняться ТВАРЯМ стыдно,
Не жопой коль, а головой
Подумать. Пишутся законы
Для жоп. Для разума Душа
Единый светоч: чрез препоны
На Свет достойные спешат.
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The Road to the Global Asylum
A mindset shaped by ads alone—
The path was long, yet carved in stone.
The fools grew loud, their minds grew weak,
The madhouse gates are now in reach...
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Vegetable Warehouse
Cipollino… Ripe tomatoes…
Will the VEGGIES rise once more?
Yet the lies have built volcanoes,
Blocking out the distant shore.
Cipollino screams for brothers,
But they cannot hear his cries.
GMO turns all to others—
Livestock dressed in a disguise.
No way out, no grand tomorrow—
Only stew and mashed remains.
Peppers, onions, tamed in sorrow,
Bow before their foe in chains…
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Relentless, Talentless
Relentless, talentless, they roam,
Existence among slaves they know.
Yet they're but sheep within the pens,
No chains, but bound by their own trends.
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;The Gullible Ones
They chased a dream through stormy tides,
Their "joy" was built on hollow lies.
Once more they bit the poisoned bait—
A fool’s belief in blissful fate.
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;Youth and Age
At dawn, I walked to meet the sun,
Yet darkness loomed behind the glass.
By dusk, my path was overrun—
Bent to the night, forgot my past.
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Who Knows Where
Who knows where, who knows what,
But in despair, it’s all for naught.
Crap leads down the same dark road—
A path to nothing, as it's owed.
---------------------
;Monuments
They stand like ghosts in graveyard haze,
As if their lives were golden days.
Yet in the ground now cold they lie—
Once minds of strength, now left to die.
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What to Neglect?
Neglect: believe the fools' own lies,
Hope for light where darkness lies.
Sarcasm helps, and jokes will show—
To roll the "fluff" in filth below.
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"Rising From the Ashes" Amidst the Filth
Rising from the dirt, they claim,
Fascism—like Pol Pot's old name,
Suddenly worried 'bout the build
Of capitalism, grotesquely filled.
"Rising up," the fool’s own face
Falls back into the filth and waste—
For everywhere it’s spread and sown:
Facism’s muck has claimed the throne.
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The Stinking Slaves
The stinking slaves, the walking tombs,
Worshipping fate, their title looms—
"Just whatever"—their guiding creed,
Pushing others to their need.
They’ll drive them all into the grave,
For no place left for those who brave
To stand against this soulless mass—
Where most will fail, and none will pass.
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"The Enemy" Will Fall, Of Course
"The foe will fall, the fight is ours!"
So beasts send fools to war in showers.
Their goal is clear—more waves, more blood,
To drown the earth in human flood.
They need more bodies, more and more,
For fools can’t grasp what lies before.
It's not about some land or claim—
Just numbers lost—that is the game.
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The Prodigal Son's Non-Return
The prodigal son, no return in sight,
When madness reigns and blurs the right—
No need for forgiveness here,
Old sayings lie, it’s crystal clear.
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The Ubiquitous Crap of the BEASTS
Believe the crap—you're just a fool,
They'll send the herd to play the tool.
CowID was just the start,
Now tests have dulled the mind and heart.
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The Sun's Brightness Increase
The chants of man, with wine in hand,
Claim warming skies across the land...
For over fifty years, the Sun
Has shone more bright, as lies are spun.
The world has sunk in brazen lies,
As falsehoods heat like the Sun’s rise.
It's hard to clear the air, you see—
When lies flood in, so endlessly.
---------------------
The Labor of Verse
No labor can summon a poetic spark,
Yet without effort, it fades into dark.
A poem drains both strength and soul—
Lose what fuels it, and lose it whole.
At times, you'll pay that barren toll,
But work, then rest—don't fear the role.
If you're a poet, then halt means betray—
Build your "paradise" in rhyme each day.
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The Bulldozer of Fierce Poetry
The bulldozer of fierce verse
Sweeps all the nonsense from the curse.
But there’s no gain to come from this—
The main nonsense still persists.
For since our youth, they flood our minds
With heaps of lies, of every kind.
If you remove that foul disguise,
What’s left is rot beneath their eyes.
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The Suicide Club
Too late to beg, too dumb to trust,
No hope remains—just ash and dust.
We are the members of the doomed,
The world joins in—its fate consumed.
For patience comes a bitter price,
And treason’s debt is paid in vice.
As fascist filth now claims its might,
Beneath the Sun—we’re cut from light.
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A Dose of Love
A dose of love from alley cats,
Poisoned blood, it’s all in that.
Bonmo’s venom, in the veins,
Awaiting Novus to remain...
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Artificial Degradation
What is soft will fade away,
What is hard will stay.
Mind and soul are torn each day—
Evil paves the way.
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Alienation
Scorn the lies of wretched swine,
The dead-souled world is not for thine.
Serve your soul and walk away,
Cast their heresy to decay.
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Building the Digital Concentration Camp
Together we swiftly build the Camp,
A red cross on a white flag's stamp,
The end result of “civilized” ways—
Spirit and Reason lost in a haze.
Or more precisely, their CASTRATION!!!
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;A Sandwich with Mustard
Mustard’s the spice of life, so dim,
And toil is just stale bread within.
Yet the world remains so flesh-bound,
It resembles more a pigsty ground.
Spiritual drives are foreign, lost,
For most, that’s just the bitter cost.
In minds, the festering lies take root,
And few escape the muck to shoot.
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Отсутствие перспектив
"Кто был никем — тот станет всем!"
"Интернационал".
Кто был никем, не станет всем —
Градация проходит в Душах.
Нет тот в мирке слеп, глух и нем,
Кому чрез день есть что покушать,
А тот кто верит общей лжи
И подчиняется подонкам.
Мир одолели Миражи —
И "призрак коммунизма" тонкий
Был в их числе. Не мало их
Есть, было, также будет дале,
Ведь большинством продажный псих.
А потому мы все пропали...
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Калейдоскоп
"Особенностью живого ума является то, что ему нужно лишь немного увидеть и услышать для того, чтобы он мог потом долго размышлять и многое понять".
Джордано Бруно, XVI-ый век.
Немного надо для Наитий:
Калейдоскоп из книг, событий
Обычно только отвлекает —
Он Чуйку чушью забивает.
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Глупые напрасные надежды
"Надежды — сны бодрствующих".
Платон.
Сон прорывается сквозь Бред,
Который разумом зовут,
И трудно Мраку крикнуть "нет!" —
Себе и ближним вечно лгут.
Сон, Ложь и Бред — погряз весь мир
В том триединстве, потому,
Коль Чуткий, неприкаян, сир
Будь в нём всегда, служа Душе, а не уму.
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Путь к Свету
Черепаха марафон
Вдруг решила пробежать:
Так обычный мудозвон
Будет очень долго лгать,
Что стремится он из Тьмы,
Чистым Светом опьянён,
Средь убогой кутерьмы —
Разложенье в ней закон.
И дыхание он ждёт —
Третье — вставши на втором.
Разложение идёт
Неотступно — сплошь Дурдом.
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Неведенье как судьба мира
"Всегда найдутся эскимосы, которые начнут учить папуасов как жить в ужасной жаре".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Пошёл я в школу, недоумки
Там объяснили мне, как жить.
Предатели, вожди всей Дурки,
Как надо родину любить
Мне показали. Не примером —
Велеречивостью одной.
И кажется, я пионером
Под лживой пропаганды вой
Так и умру, от папуаса
Уйдя в Неведенье чуток.
А впрочем, все на то согласны,
Коль вечно на роток замок.
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Под откос скатилась жизДня...
Типа был ты "наверху"?
Жизни нет — повсюду тризна
По Уму. То дураку
Не понять — борьба за ЩАСтье
Непрерывная идёт.
Редкий Чуткий сквозь Ненастья
К Света отблеску бредёт.
Но Кривых Зеркал немало
На отрывистом пути,
Потому во Тьме пропало
Очень много. В Забытьи
Мир находится: подонки
Рвут на части Ум и Дух —
Остаётся мало Тонких
Средь убогих Ада слуг.
Мир под Адом — инфернальность
Самой главной, и всегда.
Солнца свет сейчас в Фатальность
Превращается — года
Остаются до Исхода.
В Новый Ад затем стремглав
Большинство, так как уроды —
Страхов, лжи, предательств сплав.
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"Закон суров, но справедлив":
Дурь в нём улов, а в Ад заплыв
Для хитрых хватких рыбаков —
Путь мира, в общем-то, таков.
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The Death of Natural Farming
The earth bears fruit in freedom’s way —
But such a truth they can’t abide.
They flood the fields with waste and grey,
Industrial madness far and wide.
For sprouts of freedom dare to grow
When soil breathes clean, beneath the sun.
So poison’s mixed in warlike flow —
A global mess for everyone.
They’ve labeled toxins “pesticides,”
And “fertilizer” means pure sleaze.
They turn the farms to labor sites —
Like gulags masked as industries.
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Hopeless idiots, and most of them...
Idiots, fooled by every trick,
They march ahead, both blind and quick.
For without a change in the beasts’ core,
They whisper, “Soon, all will be no more.”
An old tale, but now, it's grotesque,
As blood in veins grows cold, in distress.
The beasts’ blood runs, yet still we see
A protest born from nostalgia's plea.
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The “Magic” of Propaganda
Unbewitched, you don't belong —
Propaganda rules the song.
Any movement out of line
Falls to rot — by foul design.
Rot is shaped through slick campaigns,
“Education” fans the flames.
Thus, officials form a crew —
Thugs in ties, corruption’s glue.
And the masses, led like sheep,
Turn to dullards, shallow, cheap —
The new mainstream prototype,
Built on slogans, fear, and hype.
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Puppet Politicians and the Sheepish World
Just a bunch of lifeless puppets
On the screen — while fascist muck
Chokes the world of sheepish comforts.
Such a sight — it deeply cuts.
During CowID they were preaching
Rotgut lies with poisoned teaching.
Now they've got a brand-new war —
Hear them wailing, craving gore.
Off they drive the fools to slaughter.
Nations? Gone. It doesn’t matter.
So the world, in grand despair,
Spills toward the devil’s lair.
Hell is near — a brand-new version.
This one needs a vile conversion:
Cleanse the land for beasts to nest —
This dark soil suits jail the best.
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Woodworking
Freight trucks on the highways,
Lumber runs in byways —
Planks and logs, they haul them,
As if people — fallen.
Not a thought of reason,
Conscience out of season...
Thick-skinned, barely human —
Bark-like in delusion.
Oaks are processed roughly,
Raw and loud and gruffly.
Not for any filing —
That’s what they call schooling.
Then they send us, stunted,
To the jobs — undaunted.
“Do with us whatever —
Lie as much as ever.”
Bent like marionettes, we
Bear our fates regret-free.
Papa’s name is Boss-Man,
Mallets in his crosshands.
Beat us, lie with power —
Every single hour.
Promise us the keyhole —
Turn us into weasels.
Bribes and threats in measures,
Dreams and plastic treasures...
Heaven’s just a cinder —
Needs one match to hinder.
Will the flames defeat us?
Will the foe unseat us?
No — the fire's fated
For the damned, sedated!
---------------------
The Toady Folk
Toadies crave a fatter ration,
Crush the world with savage pride.
Luck is drawn to their vocation —
Satan's standing by their side.
Toadies rule as lords and leaders,
Every petty crook and boss.
Fools line up to serve as feeders,
Paying rent to Satan’s dross.
Rent in Hell is paid in spirit.
Sell your soul — ascend the stair!
Honor? Conscience? None will hear it —
Blabber rules the market there.
He’ll explain the "higher missions"
With a zeal that’s cold and grim —
Thrilled to earn his low position
In the cattle pens with him.
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Mouse-Sized Happiness
A roof above one’s head often prevents people from growing.
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec
The burrow presses on your brain —
You see no light, you feel no pain.
To gather crumbs, the rats decree:
"Lie and praise our colony!"
"Tell the young it’s paradise.
Fear and faith — the combo’s nice.
Lack the zeal? Then face the blame.
Not from hate — it’s just the game."
For the rule is iron-tight:
March in step and squeak just right.
Hear the anthem, loud and shrill —
Propaganda, dressed to kill.
Play along — you’ll find your bliss
In some mousehole’s dark abyss.
Speak against it? You’ll be gone.
Best keep your tiny mouth shut, son.
---------------------
The Puppets
The puppets dance in sync, delighted —
Their strings pulled tight by hands unseen.
Between the acts, they gripe, short-sighted:
“No cash! No breaks! This life is mean!”
They’ve had enough of whips and lashes —
Now lies and gold take center stage.
Their minds reduced to tattered ashes —
The theater burns, and yet the rage
Is sold as “special stage effects.”
What sense can wooden fools express?
The beams are cracking — all’s a wreck.
Get out — or vanish with the mess!
---------------------
Journey to Nowhereville
Step by step to Nowhereville —
Every stride’s a clumsy spill.
What is Nowhere? Just exhaustion.
Hang in there — you’re near the crossing.
Nowhere’s not on any chart —
Just a dot in Fog-of-Heart.
Fired up, you made it matter —
Yet it’s hellish, false, and shattered.
There’s a way to break the trance:
Pause, and give your mind a glance.
Look around with eyes unclouded —
See the MADNESS all enshrouded.
On the Path, there is a guide —
Almost instinct deep inside.
Hold to reason, hold it tight.
Chase illusions with your light.
Cleanse your thoughts of haunted dreaming —
Find the Truth beneath false seeming.
You’ll arise, no more decaying —
SPIRIT’S MOTION — ever staying!
---------------------
Train to Hell
With Dante at the ticket stand,
The train to Hell is nearly boarding.
The Ninth Circle — high demand,
A traitor grabs his seat, self-lording.
The station roars: its name is "Home",
The crowd is tense, the timing brittle.
Departures roll in clouds of chrome,
The board still says, "To Our Saint’s Little."
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Choked by the Dark, or The Soul’s Last Stand
Seal the path that leads away —
To betrayal, fear, and lies.
Only trials fill the day
For the souls that still stay wise.
Facing doom like tanks of dread,
Armed with Words instead of bombs.
Better fall before the red
Sunlight touches Hell’s calm swamps.
In the light, the weak may choke,
Gasping where the brave would stand.
Call it hypoxia’s stroke —
When resolve slips from the hand.
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The Rule of Satanism
Chains of sorrow aren’t by chance —
Evil planned this grim advance.
This “amazing world,” you see,
Is ruled by goats — satanically.
Wars and crises, endless plagues —
All designed to raze and break.
Year by year, the kind and wise
Fade beneath the flood of lies.
Donkeys led by bold deceit,
While fake problems flood the street —
Easily “solved” with broken laws,
While freedom dies without a cause.
Then — much worse. The beast returns:
Hidden fascist fire burns.
Through collapse, they try to win
With the same old game and grin.
Prospects? None, when fools hold sway.
Dark and brutal years await.
But the sun will blaze its way —
Scorching all this rot and hate.
---------------------
Slavery
The word “slavery” is banned —
Not by law, but by the mind.
That’s how tyrants took command,
Drowning truth in filth redefined.
Simple truths are left to rust.
A child might see them clear and plain —
But lies, injected from the crust
Of cradle days, infect the brain.
He'll call this madhouse “civil life,”
And slavery — “my right to choose.”
He picks his poisons with no strife,
Blind to how they’re meant to bruise
His health, his strength, his mind each day —
A question just of dosage rate.
But bit by bit, he'll waste away,
His “thoughts” reduced to spite and hate.
All worsened by the early blow
From school, the news, and TV trash.
No life — just filth in steady flow:
A slave, dumb-struck by fear and flash.
---------------------
To Hell
With Dante there to sell the ride,
The train to Hell is almost leaving.
The scum all scramble, eager-eyed —
The Ninth’s a deal, if you’re deceiving.
All seats are sold. All faith betrayed.
To spread their filth, they’re boldly surging.
Success of swine — the price we’ve paid:
Our moral core is slowly purging.
And Reason’s dead, or close enough —
Perhaps the devils might restore it?
Let’s rush to Hell! Full speed and rough!
Outsin the fiends — we’ll learn, ignore it.
The "Satan's icons" now are men,
Low creatures once from "Mother Russia".
The demons groan in lower den —
These sons outmatch them under pressure.
The war has shown what’s underneath —
Now Hitler spins inside his casket.
This land has touched the floor beneath.
What’s lower? Hell. Lead on, you bastard.
---------------------
Sheeplevirus
The Sheeplevirus hunts across the land,
It drills into the brain, it eats the mind.
There’s nowhere I can run from its command,
And soon you'll find there's nowhere left to hide.
The Sheeplevirus, Evil's cruel test—
A purge of fools in panic and alarm.
They’ll drive me out, like all the not-like-rest,
And soon you'll feel that same cold, closing harm.
The Sheeplevirus chokes out thought and grace,
It strangles honor, freedom, every spark.
To march with idiots is now the place—
A sea of dumb, a million-strong and dark.
The Sheeplevirus smells of fascist schemes,
Designed to break us, crush us into dust.
No “cool indifference” will redeem our dreams—
This evil won't be slain by passive trust.
There once was Koch, a wise and steady guide,
Who taught the world to trace what spreads and kills.
But now, it’s noise and fear that rules with pride—
They make their “gods” from hype and lab-made thrills.
The Sheeplevirus is a war of minds,
A cult of power dressed in SS gray.
What use is “matter” when the soul’s confined?
Even a void can steal your life away!
The question's simple—clear, and sharp as flame:
Will we resist, or bow and live in pain?
They’ll never stop unless we end the game—
So do we fight, or let them win again?
---------------------
In Their Service...
Not by noose, but fear they slay —
That’s the modern tyrant’s way.
Hard to stand and just be you
When the dogs all cower too.
Few remain with souls intact —
"Serve the Darkness!" — that’s the pact.
Lose your soul — and all you see
Melts to false reality.
Mirages drift to MADNESS' gate —
CowID showed the world that fate.
And the hounds bark loud and tight:
“Fetch!” — they’re fed for blind delight.
---------------------
"Жили-были", или Что о нас вспомнят...
"Жили", но не Были —
В Ад во лжи приплыли:
Одолели страхи —
Те, что хуже плахи...
---------------------
Первое Апреля
Праздник всей Земли:
Чушь повсюду мелют,
И в подобье тли
Люди превратились
От таких затей —
В рабстве очутились
Так все у чертей.
---------------------
Творцу
Скудоумье "наверху"
И приказы дураку
Отдает, сомнений чуждо.
Творчество твоё не нужно,
Если мысль не в унисон
С Дичью — это длится испокон.
---------------------
Перепады настроенья
Мелочь, если устремленья
К Чистому тебя ведут —
Снова лёгким будет труд.
---------------------
Почвы для надежд убогих
Много меньше с каждым днём,
Крохи на оценки строгих, —
В "позитиве" ДОгниём.
---------------------
Разнообразь чуть ложь, и можно
Опять с успехом стричь стада.
Обрыдла эта — вновь несложно
Придумать чушь, и на года.
---------------------
Отрицательный отбор
Отрицательный отбор —
В пику Дарвину закон
Непреложный. Лжец и вор —
Выживает всюду он.
Честный-умный — он на дне:
Мало шансов передать
Силу Духа. Так в говне
Нелюдь дальше отбирать
Будет новый глупый вид —
Сатанизма холуйков.
Ложь украсит: "индивид!",
Скрасит цифровых оков
Окончательный Позор,
Вновь "свободу" вознеся.
Тот отбор как приговор —
Не ОЧНУТЬСЯ опосля.
---------------------
Когда извилин в недостатке
У большинства, предложат "путь"
"Прямой" — на оный дурни падки.
Конечный пункт с названьем "Жуть"
Не видится во Лжи Тумане —
И бодрый шаг, стройны ряды.
Когда ж конечный пункт предстанет,
Добавят Новой Ерунды
И назовут всю жуть ошибкой —
И дальше снова "путь прямой".
Разнообразят Ложь не шибко —
Сойдёт ущербным головой.
---------------------
The "Straight Path"
When brains are rare, the crowd s in luck
A path is pitched, so bold and bright.
The fools line up to join the suck,
Its end is called pure dread and fright.
But through the Fog of Lies they march,
In tidy rows, with cheerful face.
And when they reach that final arch
They re fed more nonsense, just in case.
They'll call the horror a "mistake"
And sell a new "straight path" once more.
The lie gets tweaks for lying s sake
It works on minds with broken core.
---------------------
"Scorcher," or the Resilience of Ukrainian Troops
A thermobaric blast ignites—
The Russian fiend its fire lights.
Yet soldiers stand, unbowed, unbroke,
Their will as strong as iron oak.
And so the beasts will fail again,
Their fury spent on helpless men.
Civilians burned in cruel spite—
Genocide, in naked sight.
But justice waits—its time will come,
Each butcher’s name will soon be "sung".
No lie can wash their crimes away—
For Russia drowns in dark decay.
---------------------
;Race to Hell
"A lame man on the rightful way
Outruns the swift who’s led astray."
— Francis Bacon, 17th century
The world is racing—cash and fame,
A senseless chase, a deadly snare.
And many crash—while fiends proclaim
Their joy in others’ grim despair.
So walk, or crawl, or run if able—
Hell’s road is not your path to tread.
A step toward Light, though small and frail,
Will save your Soul and lift your head.
Fulfill your duty—Spirit calls,
All else is filth, a hollow lie.
Give up your flesh if darkness falls—
The herds don’t race, they’re led to die.
---------------------
My Poetry
They’ve torn my verses, line by line—
A spark of vision, it would seem.
Yet what they truly value’s mine:
I never served the vile regime.
But higher still—this battle fought
Against the Rot that clouds the sky.
For words strike harder than a shot,
And thoughts outlive the bullet’s cry.
No hand will lift my voice to fame,
Yet I have done what must be done.
And hope? A fool’s deluded game—
The blind kneel to it, one by one.
---------------------
False Religions
A service held in Satan’s hall—
They praise the weak, they crown the small.
A "slave of God"—their proud refrain,
For feeble minds bring greater gain.
The schools instill the art of sleep,
The preachers lie, the strong mislead.
Propaganda seals the deal,
And blind submission shapes their creed.
Thus, a MAD ENSLAVED MACHINE—
Hoards of filth, deceit unseen.
Greed and falsehood rule his days,
Trained to serve the Dark’s embrace.
Call it "good" a hundred times—
Will that cleanse the world of crimes?
If you trust the painted lie,
You're diseased in heart and mind.
---------------------
CowID
In Bedlam, madness isn’t new,
But THIS is stupid through and through!
The minds collapse, all sense erased—
Pure Lies like poison fill the place.
---------------------
Today’s Poet—A Sign of Decay
They fund the cripples, priests, and frauds,
Fake “science,” art that’s made for sale.
But not the poets—what a shame,
A world where truth is doomed to fail.
Want to publish? Pay the price!
Culture’s dead, it’s all a game.
Madness spreads in waves of lies,
Corruption crowned in rot and flame.
For a poet shows decay—
No craft is held in higher grace.
Yet the beasts demand a pawn,
A fool to lead the doomed like slaves.
Driving herds straight to the slaughter,
Draped in “goodness,” robed in lies.
But, in truth, they’ve earned no better,
Bowing low to Hell’s device.
---------------------
;Degradation in Delusions
"Mankind has long been lost in lies."
— Laozi, 5th century BC
The ages pass, yet false beliefs
Keep growing stronger every day.
So cast aside imposed deceits,
And let your Soul, not mind, hold sway.
The mind is shaped by fiends from Hell
Through "culture," "laws," and life's cruel game.
Yet thinking still is vital—well,
If reason’s free from drunken shame.
Intuition is your guide—
The Soul and mind in harmony.
Or else the world, in downward stride,
Will drag you back to misery.
---------------------
Поражает не безумство приказов, а энтузиазм исполнителей
Сверх-активность идиотов
Под правлением уродов
Всех разумных поражает —
Вера в будущее тает.
Впечатлило что в говниде?
Не приказы ТВАРЕЙ — в гниде,
Злу покорной, сверх-активность
В исполненьи чуши лживой.
---------------------
Самостоятельное мышление в пику заимствованному знанию
Если думать ты не будешь,
Получая тьму инф`ы,
Опускаясь, Дух остудишь,
Ум скукожится, увы...
---------------------
Религия
Рождённая из страха
Прикрытием нужды,
Для Разума как плаха —
Напрасные мечты...
---------------------
Не слушай "голос разума",
Коль не уверен ты,
Не поражён заразами
Шаблонов он. Кранты
Любым твоим стараньям,
Когда тупой шаблон,
Эвристику всю раня,
Прозренья гонит вон.
---------------------
В Аду
Старания напрасны,
Прозрения как муть,
Шаг к смерти ежечасный:
Твой путь из Жути в ЖУТЬ.
---------------------
Пожилые оптимисты
Верят в байки, как и встарь:
Вновь предатели речисты —
Днесь Иуда как бунтарь.
---------------------
Голь и ноль
"Начать жизнь с нуля легко, гораздо сложнее выйти из минуса".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
С дня рождения ты в минус
Загоняешься, потом
Строй стремится сделать "вынос
Мозга" школой, а Христом
Дух бунтарский оскопляют.
К "зрелости" ты полный ноль —
Как удача. Но считает
"Всё нормально в мире" голь.
---------------------
A Song About “Happiness”
I’ll soon write a song —
Full of peace, full of light.
Where I rise from the wrong,
Cling to good, hold it tight.
But that song will be born
With a needle in hand,
In a ward — mind all torn —
In a world gulag-planned.
Genocide everywhere,
And it’s not even new.
Try to grasp joy — if you dare —
In a storm made of untrue.
All this “truth” is a lie,
All this pain — by design.
Monsters rule from on high —
And call madness “divine.”
---------------------
;Independent thinking as opposed to borrowed knowledge
If you won’t think, just take the noise,
A flood of info, dull and cold,
Your spirit weakens, mind decoys,
And wisdom shrinks, its power sold.
---------------------
Negative selection
Separator of whipped cream,
Or in the sewage, dark and grim?
What remains when all is drained?
Perhaps life's meaning, unchained?
---------------------
Political clowns and the so-called "army"
A general and a clown: the fight,
The clown’s the one who takes the lead.
The people fail to see the blight,
Of systems, herds, and all their greed.
They worship strength, though misguided,
Loving "business talk" so grand.
Through the ages, still divided,
Bringing ruin with each hand.
Clowns will inject their vile concoctions,
Stronger than the CowID tide.
A hundred Hiroshimas, in their actions,
When reason’s dead and truth’s denied.
---------------------
;In Hell
Endeavors all are vain,
Clarity’s but murk and stain,
Each step a march toward death's embrace,
Your path from Dread to DREAD’s own place.
---------------------
The Press
Life slows to a crawl,
Like a press that grinds —
Bleed, or feel no fall?
Bleed — and maybe find
Not death, but a spark,
While the bloodless fade —
Zombified and dark,
Flatlined and afraid.
Pressure’s rising still,
Till we’re dust and bone.
Not “a little chill” —
No. Just fear alone.
CowID gave a taste
Of what’s yet to come:
Fascism embraced —
And the press rolls on.
---------------------
Idolatry
We bow, we kneel — it's all the same,
In ashrams and this world's cruel game.
Without idols, we are left to stray,
For fools are lost in empty sway.
A F;hrer twin with empty news,
The void has sunk to its lowest views.
There, we'll embrace the lies we find,
As idiots wade through filth and bind.
---------------------
"The One" — A Hassle
The "one true love" is such a bore,
It's worn out in films, it’s all a chore.
Where are the fiends of wicked ways?
Where’s the thrill in their wild craze?
The ego of some foolish girls
Has grown so tiresome in this world,
That only Addams’ joy and cheer
Can pierce through all the whiny fear.
The rest is just a hormone rush,
A youthful thing — a fleeting crush.
The real intrigue’s in the low,
The ebb, not high, the way we go.
Breakdowns, tragedies, and snide —
In these, life’s meaning seems to hide.
Can’t even catch a single phrase
In "love will find us" endless maze.
---------------------
;Religion
Born from fear, a shielded need,
A death for Reason, dreams that bleed.
An empty hope, a fleeting call,
For in its grasp, we lose it all.
---------------------
The Track of Destruction
A life of stripes, so dull, so gray,
Where black and white both have their say.
The price of motion, clear to see:
In shadows deep, you’re bound to be.
You fall into the darkest night,
And think that gray’s a hopeful light —
But in the gray you’ll disappear
If you don’t shout the word "No, here!"
To schemes of Hell, to motions planned,
Laid out in lines, throughout the land.
The final stop — "Decay’s design,"
Erasing fools through grand design.
Through madness, they have found their way,
As "CowID" marks the break of day.
The mind is crushed, the truth undone,
The track’s been set — the race is won.
---------------------
So-called “Feedback”
“It reached the top!” — that worthless pest
Will “fix it all” at their behest.
Not fighting rot, not taking stand —
Just greasing slides to filth and sand.
---------------------
Queen of Queens
Queen of the Infernal Realms,
Total Lies sit on her throne.
The High Priest—Lucifer,
Mind and honor, both overthrown.
The Queen cannot be replaced,
She’s ruled since the world began.
Without deceit, no life to face,
Not even the fool or beggar man.
---------------------
What will happen after CowID?
Doctor Mengele, idolized,
Will soon be praised if this survives.
What’s left of this world’s disguise?
In madness, chaos slowly dies.
---------------------
Chem in Food, and Lies on Air
ChemTrust.
LieNews.
Just look around —
Obedient fools
Eat poisoned ground,
And cheer the rules.
A world so bleak,
Where madness reigns.
If thought’s not weak,
Then break the chains!
Withdraw within —
Your soul, your shrine.
Don’t bow to sin —
Let truth align.
The final storm
Will cleanse with flame.
Farewell, deformed
Fascistic game.
---------------------
Fu-Kung-Fu
Your kung-fu? More like Fu!, my friend —
The stink is strong on every end.
The filth that rules from way up high
Makes all this madhouse multiply.
And down below? There’s sludge galore —
This world’s a mask, a shape-shifted sore.
Step wrong, and you’re knee-deep in slime
Unless you purge the rot in time.
That rot wears such a lovely face,
All dressed up in charm and grace.
But shame is gone — it's not the trend;
It rides its wave right to the end.
And that wave wants to swallow all
In oceans where the liars call.
To truly live and make it through —
Your shield must be Fu-Kung-Fu.
---------------------
Vanity of vanities
Vanity of vanities brings,
Nonsense to the mind it clings.
A mindless fool, corrupt through and through—
Run for cover, it's the thing to do.
Though the media will find your hole,
Fewer fools will lose control.
The fascist's creeping, vile and sly,
He'll flush us out—but not tonight.
Global fascism's drawing near,
"Vanity of vanities" disappears.
The world has turned to a madhouse place,
In lies, in fear, in crude disgrace.
---------------------
Voluntary Disposal
It’s not that painful, if you choose:
There’s war and junk to light the fuse.
Without the fools, Earth takes a breath —
Insanity just breeds more death.
They want us gone — it’s "for the best!"
The wicked lie, more well-dressed.
But now it’s not just lies — it’s slime,
Fed to fools in filth and grime.
The beasts grow bolder, day by day,
Their truth? Obey — or fade away.
---------------------
Thoughtlessness
Thinking’s hard, and thinking’s scary —
It shatters the image you’ve grown.
If you think too much, they’ll carry
The tale that your mind’s overthrown.
A world of thoughtlessness and decay,
Degradation’s now the law.
Surrounded by fools? Then away!
Run fast before they make you raw.
From all the ties and obligations,
Be touched by thought’s clear, shining light.
There are no “good” circumstances —
The world is doomed, it’s lost the fight.
---------------------
"Common Sense" Is Killing Us
"Common sense" is what we’re taught —
But with patterns, minds are caught.
Heart forgotten, lost its voice —
That shuts down the deeper choice.
What’s beyond is sealed away,
And without it, minds decay.
Heart grows weak, and so does soul —
Emptiness becomes the goal.
Feelings fade — replaced by schemes.
Fools push "logic" over dreams.
Blind and broken, they persuade —
And torture others in the trade.
---------------------
Economic cattle
Money, money, money, money —
Savage, vile, a void inside:
If you’re lucky, it’s neurosis,
If not — you're just a lower guide.
---------------------
Chasing the Carrot
In a world turned upside-down,
Fools keep marching round and round.
Burdened, dazed by life's "great mission" —
Endless loops of blind ambition.
"Seek your happiness!" they cry...
"Try again!" — the same old lie.
But repetition, said and done,
Is the sign the mind is gone.
Each new try, a fresh torment —
Nothing gained, just punishment.
Only fools believe the tale
That through pain, joy will prevail.
Like a donkey, chasing dreams,
Fed on lies and shallow schemes,
While the Goat, all sly and slick,
Leads it to the final trick —
To the slaughter, blind and still,
In this world where truth is ill.
---------------------
A guessing game for clueless minds,
Tests at school — what’s left behind?
Endless toil, then pour a drink,
At nightfall, the world’s on the brink.
---------------------
A man’s like a cheburek —
Juicy with filling, crisp and sleek.
But for a lifetime, they pack it tight
With nonsense, fear, and lies to fight.
Weigh the filling, break it down,
Into segments: fear and frown,
Fragments of joy — hold them fast,
For those are the truths that will last.
---------------------
A mania of grandeur,
Through every guise it’s pure,
No strength to hide it now,
It merges with the soul somehow.
---------------------
Brothers in "Literature"
Will ensure culture’s sepulture:
If courage fades, then you will find,
It can't rise up, it’s left behind.
---------------------
;Don't listen to the "voice of reason,"
If you're unsure, don't heed the season.
If by the virus of the mold,
Your mind's been caught and bought, it's sold.
Any effort's doomed to fail,
When a dull template leads the trail,
Wounding all the clever schemes,
Driving clarity from dreams.
---------------------
Don't waste your days awaiting wonder—
This tale is grim, yet all too real:
The vile ones rise, they pull us under,
And rot becomes the grand ideal.
---------------------
Few fools have fallen yet,
Where's the work for propaganda to set?
---------------------
I’ve tasted Hell—
It was quite grim.
If Hell's this young—
The damage’s deep and dim.
---------------------
If only a trace
Of creativity’s grace,
Conquer fatigue,
Cast pity away,
Take the final leap—
And don't drift in dismay.
---------------------
Into delusion's grip we fall,
Madness reigns, and tyrants call.
A friend, a foe—what's left to see?
We've hit the bottom, can't break free.
---------------------
"Mice are falling from the roof!"
That’s how the liars speak the truth.
Now liars hold the highest place—
The fool believes the media's grace.
---------------------
No great honor it is, ‘midst the twisted and blind,
To be called a "thinker", "enlightened and clever".
If you’d rather let struggle and hardship refine
Your pure craft — then be sold-out and soulless? Never.
Push the mob to the back of your mind and be done;
It’s but fuel for satire and barbs that you’re hurling.
That parade of buffoons, that grotesque marathon —
Flee their praise — it’s as filthy as sewage swirling.
Their threshold of madness keeps rising each day
Like Bubka’s old records at peak elevation.
These are no longer people — just herds gone astray;
You’ll fulfill your true work only in isolation.
---------------------
;Once you were bold, so full of fire...
Now all that's left is cursing dire.
---------------------
The few are not in wold the freaks,
So we are Nature’s shame, it speaks:
Idiots, fools, and crazy minds,
In nonsense, years are left behind.
---------------------
The mammoth’s gone,
The fool remains—
Still won’t die, despite the pains.
---------------------
They've twisted minds in endless strife,
Where wretched chaos rules the life,
And turned the souls to frozen stone,
While bowing down to Evil's throne.
---------------------
To craft a miniature with care —
A big achievement, if there's flair.
But if it births a vulgar rhyme,
Erase it quick — don’t waste your time.
---------------------
Uniqueness, like a virtue's claim,
The Path will wipe mistakes away,
Where conscience fuels the burning flame,
Its goal: the fear, the world’s decay.
Few will leave this foolish place,
And even fewer, when you see,
Reach that point — they hold a trace
Of gods, in their divinity.
---------------------
Propaganda
The sewage flows into your home—
Dark propaganda, strong and vile.
Believe their lies? You’ll stand alone,
A scapegoat led to slaughter’s aisle.
No war declared, yet battles rage,
Your mind and soul—their battleground.
Struck once, you join the fools engaged,
As more must fall without a sound.
The cycle’s done. And soon will gloat
That cunning fiend with twisted grin,
Counting souls he’s lured and caught—
His tally shows the ones who sinned.
---------------------
A Merry March to Hell
The boors march straight to Hell’s domain—
They’ll call it Heaven, all in vain.
No need for lies to bind the fool,
Stubbornness his only rule.
Yet in his mind, there’s empty space,
A problem in his thinking’s place—
Soon enough, he’ll meet his fate,
And find his soul’s a rotten state.
To heed the heart? That’s no delight,
In a world of need, where greed takes flight.
The Spirit dies, consumed by strife,
In the last turn of their cursed life.
And so, the fools arrive, at last,
At Hell’s gate, their die is cast.
---------------------
Chaos, or the Roulette of Hollow Life
Zero.
Grey glow.
You place your bets on red and black,
So swift, so sure—no turning back.
Yet while you bet, they bet on you—
The beasts won’t stop, they’ll push you through.
For them, the game is crushing fools,
Who guard their skins but live by rules
Of chains unseen. No fate to tell—
This rigged roulette is chaos—hell.
---------------------
;The Fog of a Rotten World
A poisoned fog engulfs the land,
Its fumes of lies pollute the air.
It veils the goal, so far, so grand,
While wretches lead you to despair.
Your goal is clear—just think, just see,
If still your soul can feel the light.
But wretches serve the Enemy,
For coin they push, for coin they fight.
The fog grows thicker every day,
Dispersed by madness, not by thought.
And soon we’ll all just rot away—
The "last one standing" rots the least.
---------------------
The Knight in Shining Armor
Behold the knight in armor bright—
A jester’s show, a hollow sight.
His "armor" is success and fame,
Each step—a milestone in the game.
A game of lies, a life for sale,
Where souls are lost beyond the pale.
Corrupted deep, they grieve no more—
But only crave to rise and score.
For "glory" blind, for wealth they run,
Their greed devours everyone.
No honor left—just hunger raw,
For power, gold, and hollow law.
---------------------
Self-Censorship on Stupid, Slave-like, So-called Literary Sites
"Chief Moderator"—
Once was the censors' might...
Self-provocator?!
No cash? That’s pure shameful plight!
"Self-isolation,"
It was all the same:
A mind's castration,
Simply—no cash, no fame.
---------------------
Conquering New Worlds in Science Fiction
Galactic Fool—an honored name,
Advance! Pursue your endless claim.
You’ll gather skins, and countless more,
While countless lives you’ll tear and floor.
The whole Galaxy will shudder,
At slaves unknown, beneath the smother.
Lucifer will sharpen skill,
Exporting FEAR, LIES, and CHAINS at will.
---------------------
On Flags
Hell’s "joy" is lies that "serve the cause."
A red cross on a white flag’s jaws,
Completes the grim and painted scene—
Bowed down, they bend to CowID’s "sheen".
The hippo’s plague will come around—
"Quarantine!"—they scurry, all unwound!
The fools still trust the creatures' call,
With media leading, ever tall.
If they believe, they’ll build the Camp,
A digital one, beneath black’s lamp.
A deep, dark minus marks the cost—
It’ll strip their minds, a final loss.
---------------------
The End of the Historical Cycle
Banzai charges—motorbikes,
Rushing straight at guns and strikes,
Machine guns roar. The Cycle ends—
If minds are dull, all will descend.
---------------------
Shifting Proportions in Mind, or The Oily "Kindness" of Beasts
Can too much oil spoil the porridge?
Drown the grain, and taste is lost.
Only slaves, in lies submerged,
Fail to see the heavy cost.
In their minds, so dim and hollow,
Reason’s grain is hard to find.
Lies and horrors darkly follow,
Drowning souls in grease refined.
Lose your edge, ignore your senses,
Let them preach their “gentle” creed—
Like an abscess, it condenses,
Bursts within, and makes you bleed.
Soon your Soul and mind will wither,
Drowned in poison, drowned in gloom.
Grain is lost—just scraps that linger,
Smothered nine to two in doom...
---------------------
The Beast
The earthly beast is strange indeed—
Wounds in the mind, the soul in need,
But to fall so LOW, to sink so deep,
One must learn well from Hell’s own keep.
And if that’s true, they’re not to blame,
These twisted forms, in spite of shame—
Their judgment will come, though not today:
When they’re compared to Hell's own face, they’ll pay.
---------------------
Destroying Independent Thought by Overloading Memory with Lies and Nonsense
Repetition breeds submission,
Deceit’s the father, dullness—queen.
Trapped in “schools” of false traditions,
Soon no mind will dare be seen.
Fools collect their load of madness,
Reason fades—a few survive.
Lies spread fast, like rotting fungus,
Boundless, growing, still alive.
This process knows no final stages,
Layered weight will crush the rest.
Like a press in endless motion,
Stamping minds with flawed pretext.
---------------------
;The Blind, Deaf, and Cowardly Fools
Blind, deaf, mute—
No greater theme, no deeper root.
Except for folly, fear, and vice,
The cowardice that feeds the lies.
---------------------
The End of the World and the Transition to Another Realm
A ragged crowd in "Transition"?
A new Hell waits their admission!
Once more they burn the world away—
Only a madman won't see the fray.
The honest soul, where will it go?
In time, we’ll know—I’m out of flow...
Everything else is mere disguise—
The Light’s a flash, gone from their eyes.
---------------------
Hollow Feasts of Hollow Lives
They pop the corks and cheer out loud,
A "grand success" they celebrate.
But what they hail, so vain and proud,
Is worthless even to elate.
Success is when the soul ignites,
And mind is honed to shape its spark.
If praise and gold define your heights,
You’ve missed the truth and groped in dark:
What is God’s Fire? What is Creation?
What’s art? Why does this Earth endure
A swarm of wasted generations,
Drowned in deceit and darkness pure?
---------------------
By Stealth or by Force?
By stealth they creep, by force they strike—
A "mighty choice," or so it seems.
But once you're trapped in creatures’ vice,
Your will is crushed beneath their schemes.
Expand your mind—there lies the way,
Not to shatter all their chains,
But to rise above decay,
Not rot in cells with thoughtless brains.
This world dissolves in filth and lies,
And slaves will rot within its frame.
Bow your head—you'll be despised,
The wicked mold you to their game.
But those who fight, who see, who rise,
Will break beyond this poisoned sphere.
Through Spirit’s light, beyond the cries
Of madness that will end it here.
---------------------
Trashy Films and Nonsense Shows
They churn out plots with lazy hand,
Cheap scripts are made with ease—
No talent needed to expand
A flood of smut to please.
The screens are filled with filth unchecked,
The web is drowning too.
Yet filth is tame—now pure neglect
Lets madness take its due.
---------------------
Believing Everything the Beasts Say on the TV
A total fool,
Believes it all, no matter what they say.
Easier still, that beast will fall,
And turn to NOTHING, day by day.
---------------------
This World
A crippled world, where Freedom’s name
Is torn to shreds—just empty sound.
And every struggle, every shame,
A tool to break the herd and hound.
The weak obey, they laugh, they crawl,
So blind, so dull—a wretched breed.
Here Satan wears a godlike shawl,
And none but madmen dare be freed.
Yet madness here is called the norm,
So if you see, you stand alone.
This world is swallowed by the storm
Of filth and shame upon the throne.
---------------------
To Heal and Extinguish...
We stamp the seals, we quench the lime,
We drown out minds in waves of lies.
A cunning fiend, who bides his time,
Wears a mask of sane disguise.
We heal the wounds, we numb the pain,
We "cure" the mind in CowID's name.
Our fate is set, the script’s the same—
Once, they "healed" us under "AIDS".
We’ll trust, obey, and play along,
We’ll kill our minds for fleeting gain.
Till all is priced, till right is wrong,
And all drop dead—no soul remains.
---------------------
;Evil’s Long-Term Plans
Through the ages, fools obey—
Tricked to think they have a say.
Yet the ones who rule the land
Are but clans with schemes well-planned.
Obvious? It’s clear as day.
Still, the blind look far away,
Trust the clowns who sit on high,
And when they’re gone, they breathe a sigh.
But monsters lie—deceit refined,
They swap the masks, but not the mind.
For every puppet in the light,
A hidden hand controls the fight.
Their craft is rot, passed down through time,
Decay refined into a science.
Through the ages, they endure,
To shape the slaves, to keep control secure.
---------------------
Inertia of Thought
Inertia traps the mind in chains,
A road that leads to Nowhere plain.
The soul decays, yet time remains—
The rot unfolds through years of pain.
So warning signs are cast aside,
Ignored until too late to see—
And then you stand, arms open wide,
To welcome in your enemy.
But intuition holds the key
To break that wheel and tear apart—
One ancient path, eternally,
To save the soul from sinking dark.
---------------------
The Search for the Normal in War
A frantic rush—messages fly,
Searching for the "normal" under the sky.
It’s hard to find, as deep woods grow—
A devil’s easier to spot, if we bend the hook just so.
---------------------
Вспомнить нечего из дружбы,
Также к женщинам любви:
Если творчеством натужно
Ты живёшь, все связи рви!..
---------------------
Верность себе
"Будь верен себе, и ты будешь неверен другим".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.
Толпа идёт во Тьме к маразму —
Тебе с тем чмом не по пути:
Не выполняешь Зла приказы —
Ты отщепенец. Не ахти
Все отношения, и с детства?
Неверным тут же назовут.
Не хочешь быть для тварей СРЕДСТВОМ —
Не верен их "идеям", плут!
Но называют Зла "идеи"
Словами важными всегда.
Будь верен лишь себе, иль стлеет
Душа средь Лжи и глупого труда.
---------------------
Нью-Колобок
Колобок катился в суп,
Отвлекаясь на зверей.
Думаешь, не столь ты глуп?
Если так, тогда подлей...
---------------------
Догматизм лженауки и цели, которые перед ней ставят
Догматизм зашкален — это
Лженаука, господа:
Дохрена там лжи и бреда —
Не окстится никогда,
Так как те, кто деньги платят,
Лжерелигиям взамен
Чуши ком на дурней катят
В ожиданьи перемен.
Перемены — будет Лагерь
Новый, типа цифровой:
Правду там запрячут в баге,
Чип в руке — городовой.
Будут в оном лже-болезни —
Ядом станут их лечить.
Кто покорней — тот полезней.
Людям, не скотам, — не жить!
---------------------
Aging Children and "Adult Games"
Playing grown-up’s easy, see—
Just grow up, and you’ll be free!
So many adults, they lie with grace—
A third of old folks live in disgrace.
---------------------
In Hell
I’ve had enough—too much to take,
A world so vile, so cheap, so fake.
Among the horned, we search for grace—
Hold on a bit, just keep your place.
This feast of Evil soon will cease,
But dare relax—you’ll lose your peace.
One slip, one step—you’ll pay the price,
And wake in Hell… but fresh and nice.
---------------------
Zombies and Fools
Zombies and fools write poems still,
But soon will come the poet's ill—
The death of verse, with vulgar screams,
Drowned in the flood of filthy dreams.
Why, you ask? Among this tide,
True poets hide, their voices died—
Like searching through the endless mess,
For truth that’s lost in emptiness.
---------------------
Brewing the Potion of Change
We brew the potion of deceit,
To smear the world in tainted sleet.
Through us, it falls—enslaved, confined—
We give away the trap we find.
---------------------
Hell's Regatta
Fears and worries strike the mind,
Lies: the fools are left behind.
The world, once calm and free of spite,
Is bound, now lost, in endless night.
Dear sir, who’ll captain through this tide—
A hell-bound race, no place to hide?
---------------------
;He Drives Out the Devils
He drives the devils far away,
The Light of Truth, it clears the way.
Yet among men, a half-turned fiend—
That’s why the lies are all we’ve seen.
---------------------
"Enemy of the People"
"Enemy of the people," they claim,
When Nature takes what’s due through you.
You listen close—yet they, in shame,
Will never forgive what’s pure and true.
Decay’s the part that they embrace,
The fools are countless, lost in space.
By being yourself, you stand in their way,
As they bow down to Evil’s sway.
---------------------
Poltergeist, or the Original Sin of Lies
A poltergeist’s no error,
Not a flaw in how we see,
A noisy reader of our thoughts,
You’re trapped if lies are key.
Many facts—they study them,
But only fools take heed.
False science kills the seeds of truth,
That in the mind should breed.
Clerics twist the meaning,
Of what’s real, with lies they spin—
The primal sin is clear to see:
Spreading lies to all within.
---------------------
Overcrowded Hell
Manstein, the marshal, rides with speed,
On tank to Hell, with ruthless greed.
What now to do with fascist scum?
It’s time to clone for Hell’s strong glum.
---------------------
The Miracle
A miracle: when feelings bind the mind—
It’s almost like a taste of heaven’s find.
But wild emotions lead to disarray,
As beasts of chaos push the mind astray.
They shut the reason, turn the gears of spite,
And with that madness, darkness takes its flight.
In that wild storm, the "people" lose their way—
Believing lies, they blindly fall and sway.
---------------------
Mountain Fantasy
The wind blows cold across the peaks,
While in the valleys, heat and reeks.
How did we fall to fools so deep?
A peak’s in reach, but still, we weep.
The outlook’s grim since we were born,
Dumbness spreads, a blight, a scorn.
Through generations, fools arise—
In ignorance, the beasts devise.
They rule the world, and for long years,
With twisted truths and hidden fears.
Lies command the fools who bend,
The servants of the Devil’s end.
---------------------
Balalaika
I tune the balalaika sweet,
To play a tune so soft, complete.
I’ll hide no truth, I’ll show no care—
Just share the nonsense, unaware.
The balalaika means no more
Than empty sound, a hollow roar.
Most play along with foolish cheer—
A triumph of the mindless here.
---------------------
The Blabbermouths
The blabbermouths, with stomps and claps,
They shuffle through their lives, perhaps.
Though full of fools and empty strife,
From their mouths—just slime and lies.
---------------------
Literary Heroes and Modern Strays
The Musketeers, with swords in hand,
Will duel with words, make their stand.
A blade, a verdict to defend,
While modern fools just twist and bend.
They swallow lies, they bow, they kneel,
To govern through the fake, the real.
To CowID, will the world concede?
To write a novel? "Nothing" is the deed.
---------------------
The Inevitable End of the World
To reach this point!—the path of hate,
Where fascism seals a grimish fate.
But if the tide of fools will rise,
Then let us sweep it all aside.
---------------------
The Boogeyman (The Recluse)
Is the Boogeyman a curse or salt
To all of Nature’s mighty fault?
To fools, let go—let them decay,
They waste their nights, they waste their days,
In greed they thrive, in mind they fight,
Caught in a war with no end in sight.
---------------------
Experiments with Form
Experiments with form are vain,
When meaning’s lost or starts to wane.
You pound the water in a sieve—
And watch the last of sense just give.
---------------------
A World Without War is a World Without Lies
A world without war is a world without lies.
Fools’ blabber feeds the beasts’ demise.
They drive them to the slaughter’s gate.
Stay true to yourself, don’t imitate.
Find your own way, don’t wait for a guide—
If it’s all chewed up for you, don’t decide.
The wicked serpent will twist your mind,
Poison disguised as balm, so blind.
---------------------
Vivisection College
The college of vivisection’s creed—
It showed that CowID’s all we need.
From this "sect" a doctor’s made,
His mind, now crushed, in ignorance laid.
---------------------
The Belief of the Zombies
White and fluffy,
Putler, they trust,
Zombies believe
In terrorists, in "AIDS," in CowID, unjust.
Neighbors have changed,
Now Nazism reigns.
The devils delight,
Spreading fascist chains.
It only gets worse,
With death’s toxic breath—
In the media, false culture,
Zombies dwell in madness, beneath.
---------------------
The Burning... of Hell
The sun beats down with growing might,
And burns this Hell with scorching light.
It feels more free, more clear the air,
If you're not vile, a soul laid bare.
---------------------
No Shame
To stoop to lows and mingle with grime—
The road to "success," in its twisted climb.
And for the Devil, it’s just a game—
A laugh, a jest, a burning flame.
---------------------
How does an hour turn to two?
In sluggish form, in twisted view—
To listen close to what’s inside,
And then the beast is pacified.
---------------------
Dew, a wasp,
And a fly nearby,
Almost grace,
A joy to the eye—
Without the fly...
But pests still breed,
Like slaves, they grow,
With speed and greed.
---------------------
Лжерелигии
"В мире и без того недостаточно любви и благости, чтобы их ещё можно было расточать воображаемым существам".
Фридрих Ницше.
Нарисуем "бога" — оный
Будет как громоотвод
Для печалей. В чушь влюблённый,
Развлечётся этим сброд.
Также "светлые" порывы
Мы направим на него.
Те, кто рядом, несчастливы,
Только нам не до того.
Строим церкви, дарим "благость"
Дурням в рясах, а любовь
Расточаем мы на... пакость —
Сатанизм там сплошь: пей кровь,
Причащайся "бога" телом,
Ну и прочая ***ня.
Отвлечения умело
Строит НЕЛЮДЬ для меня...
Отвлекают так от рабства,
Что постыдно и темно,
Ведь без этого тиранство
На насилие одно
Опираться вряд ли сможет —
Потому рисуй, пиши!
Так веками ТВАРИ множат
Тонны непролазной лжи.
---------------------
Сложная работа над НАСТОЯЩИМ одиночеством
Один. Толпа стучится в двери:
Воспоминанья о былом
И Чушь, которой с детства верил, —
Она, чтоб ужаснуться Дном
Не смог, повсюду наготове.
Пока не выкинешь всю Чушь,
Не будешь одиноким, — снова
Под Чушь как под контрастный душ.
---------------------
Кулинария
"Даже из мечты можно сварить варенье, если добавить фруктов и сахару".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Большая кухня. Варят ложь.
Мечты готовы — хрупкий корж.
Доварят порцию — навалят
На коржик лжи, глазурь добавят
Из веры, глупенькой надежды.
Сломался корж, так как невежды
На ложь не жадные — её
Доставят вовремя ещё.
---------------------
Хватательный механизм психики как замена мышления
Инстинкт хватательный и бегства
От неудобств больших рефлекс,
С забвением, что ты лишь средство
Иных хапуг. Для них как секс
Всех поиметь, загнавши в Стойло,
Скачав чрез страхи, ложь гаввах.
Хапуги этого достойны —
Закон подобья: к праху прах.
---------------------
Satan and Earth
The steward stepped into the Hall,
But found no master there.
The servants, weak and doomed to fall,
Were lost in dull despair.
He seized the throne, he made the rules,
A tyrant, harsh and sly.
The meek obeyed like frightened fools—
And how the Fiend did sigh!
But time had come to pay the price,
To settle every debt.
The Fiend and Evil fell like dice
To Hell, where they were set.
Yet one stood firm—no slavish pawn—
He passed through Heaven’s gate.
For justice shines, still marching on,
Through all the bounds of fate.
---------------------
The Wretched Slave
A feeble mind, a shriveled soul,
His only pride—his wealth, his dole.
No greater dream, no higher call,
Just hoarding trash—that’s all in all.
And countless thralls like him arise,
The world is doomed before our eyes.
Yet graves won’t line the roads we tread—
This Armageddon cheats instead.
---------------------
The Price of "Success"
For some—elite,
For some—a grind.
Success? So sweet—
For all, designed.
They break your mind,
Corrupt your soul.
You walk in blind—
Cash is the goal.
But keep your mind,
And stand your ground—
No wealth you’ll find,
No fortune found.
Success is theirs
Who sold their core.
The fool who cares
Stands lost—ignored.
---------------------
Walking Bombs with Timed Mechanisms
Timed mechanisms inside,
Built by fascism’s cruel design—
Daily cares that bind the mind,
For fools who bow and fall in line.
You rise at dawn without a bell,
Like wounded prey, a ticking spell—
Something’s ticking, don't you see?
Soon you’ll be a force for cruelty.
If you don’t break from blind submission,
The trivial chaos, senseless mission,
And anxious fears that guide the reign—
Desires are ruled by fear and pain.
---------------------
The Miracle of Nonsense
A miracle of nonsense, hear—
It dulls the mind, makes things unclear.
Who came for souls amidst the filth,
In a world so full of endless guilt?
Satan. With his hollow lies,
He tortures souls with no disguise.
Fools can swallow nonsense whole—
Just look at CowID's deadly toll.
They showed it clearly, loud and plain:
Many minds have gone insane.
Few dissent, the rest comply—
Our task? Just talk and let it die.
---------------------
The Puppet Show
In politics, the same old game—
They wag their fingers, scold.
Yet hidden hands still call the plays,
Deciding blood runs cold.
They choose if wars ignite or cease,
What chaos will unfold.
Elections? Truth? A madman’s peace—
A lie forever sold.
A line of puppets, set to go,
In every shade and hue.
The "leaders" march to steal the show—
A shame in plainest view.
Their "will is free"—or so they claim,
Yet dance at filth’s command.
A sneeze, a cough—blown into flames,
Till death is close at hand.
---------------------
The Industry of Nonsense and Stupefaction
Nonsense feeds the foolish mind —
Industry of modern kind.
BEASTS need mobs without a thought,
Better yet—an idiot lot.
Stupefaction leads the way,
First — the home in its decay,
Like a chain that pulls along,
Then the school — the BEASTS’ foul song.
Through the STENCH their voices spread,
Till it rots the soul and head.
Day by day, the grip is tight—
Soon, we’ll rot away in blight.
---------------------
The Nature of This Little War
It’s simple: charge ahead once more,
If madhouse minds still yearn for war.
The "nation," almost to a man,
Fits well within this darkened plan.
A tragic farce, a grim display—
"Rose from its knees"—in filth to stay.
---------------------
The Shell of Lies
Peter Harris, trapped inside,
Cannot break his fragile shell.
Lies seep in through gaps so wide,
Twisting nature—warping well.
Layer lies upon another,
Till his armor’s thick and strong.
Soft ones, run—there is no cover!
Cry or wail—it won’t be long.
Armored shells now fill the spaces,
Choking life in poisoned air.
Toward the BEAST, the fate it chases—
Armored hordes are floating there.
ARMOR-BEAST now sets them chasing,
Soft ones lost beneath the tide.
What began this dark erasing?
Filth that festered deep inside.
---------------------
Smears and Pseudoscientific Nonsense
A naked beast in reckless flight,
Its body stained, hits canvas tight.
"Is this called art?"—for fools, indeed,
The answer’s simple—no great need.
The filth is praised by vile and base,
To test how deep the fall from grace.
The crowd has sunk—are they still men?
They’ll rot, then sink, then rot again.
A critic, paid to hail decay,
Will turn pure light to foulest clay.
For cash, he’ll damn what dares to shine,
Exalting filth like it’s divine.
See, take Picasso—paints and boards—
That’s all his scribbles are, my lords!
Yet push the name—"Behold! How grand!"
Thus war on reason’s close at hand.
They fight for minds, for souls, for will,
Through filth they twist and mold you still.
Through fraud they plant absurd belief—
And fools embrace it, to their grief.
But don’t! Look out with your own sight,
And let your mind discern what’s right.
Or else you’ll turn into their spawn—
A wretch their twisted hands have drawn.
---------------------
The Wheel of Wretched Life
It turns, it grinds, through pain and strife,
And leads to sorrow’s pit.
"To serve your land"—a noble life?
A fool believes in it.
They preach of homeland, power, pride,
All wrapped in golden lies.
Yet scum still rules, and side by side,
The clean are dirt in eyes.
If born in chains, you'll sink in grime,
Forever dragged below.
They call it "order"—filth sublime,
While lords just watch the show.
Their whips in hand, they crack them loud,
While dangling sweet rewards.
We drown our grief in drunken clouds,
Then march to serve once more.
The "Motherland" commands again—
The mindless sent to die.
The honest wail, yet all in vain—
As propaganda cries.
---------------------
The Dreadnought Comes
The dreadnought sails through mines and waves,
It reaches port at last.
A cheering crowd in banners waves—
"The Leader’s here!" they blast.
A crowd? Or just a mindless mass?
A leader? Or a brute?
No doubt, the bastards rule the class,
While sheep stay dumb and mute.
And so it was, and so it stays,
The cycle spins again.
Now dreadnoughts change in modern days—
Yet worse are those who reign.
The Overton-lit windows shine,
Far worse than war and strife.
Deceit in megatons refines—
And drags us down from life.
---------------------
Mediocrity and Means
Do they survive on what they earn?
Oh no—don’t be naive!
Inheritance at every turn,
And fools that fools receive.
True talent makes them shy away,
A living, biting shame.
The meek and hollow store for days,
Yet hoard their worthless claim.
And hacks will always lend a hand—
They sail a single wave.
While talent shines, it’s quickly banned—
No market for the brave.
A poet? Writer? Cast aside
All dreams of gain or fame.
You dig for worlds yet left to rise—
Not writing for their game...
---------------------
Methods of Rashist War and Propaganda
Onward limps the maimed to fight!
Won't comply? Then face the night.
TV blares its twisted call—
"Volunteers"—a countless thrall!
---------------------
Pesticides, or Earthly "Paradise"
Poisoned apples, ripe and red,
Paradise—where all are fed.
Yet the fools, in blind delight,
Fight for scraps as if in fight.
---------------------
Lies from Every Iron, or "Information" and Other Services
From fascist filth, I rise in pain,
I bow and switch the iron on.
With lies, I pull the world in chains,
A shameful realm of "services" gone wrong!
---------------------
Propaganda Drum
The drumbeats loud—
The law’s not proud.
Like CowID’s plight—
Fear, shame, and blight.
---------------------
Division
The "nation"—rabble, lost in haze.
A poet rising through the maze,
A writer—none in sight at all,
Just madness echoing its call.
Yet Consciousness may pierce the gray,
Defy, ascend—who finds the way?
A fool-born child, a mindless spawn—
And yet—a BLADE that cuts the dawn.
---------------------
Mind’s Sarcoma
Sarcoma—coma,
Rotten mind,
And filth is all that you will find.
---------------------
Cataclysms Exist to Sweep Away the Infernal
Revolutions stand in vain —
Hell on Earth will still remain.
Only storms of fire and flood
Save the Soul through ash and blood.
Cycles passed—yet Earth is still
But a prison for the will.
Countless souls, corrupt and weak,
Perished in the purge we seek.
---------------------
A bullet’s blind,
A lie — like mind.
Both will tear
The thoughtless bare.
---------------------
Пытка
"Процветание раскрывает наши пороки, а бедствия — наши добродетели".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.
На быдло, на "елитку"
Внимательно взгляни,
Терпя лихую пытку.
В тоске не утони —
Убожества, предатели,
Пороков тьма... А где
Все "наши добродетели"?
В заботах о еде,
О сексе, в передаче
Детишкам "скреп" рабов.
Крупицы, кто иначе
Живёт, — весь мир таков.
---------------------
Всполох Света или всполох в Мути
"То, к чему стремится высший человек, находится в нём самом, а то, что ищет низший, — в других".
Конфуций.
Низкий клянчит, рвёт и тащит
У других "любовь" и хлам.
А Искатель Настоящий
ВНУТРЬ идёт, Гнилой Бедлам
Покидая, пусть ментально,
Интуицией силён,
Ведь Бедлам сей инфернальный —
Свет ВНУТРИ, и только он
Завершает устремленья
И даёт покой уму.
Низший чадо Разложенья,
Высший — Света. Своему
Зову следуй — и найдёшь ты
То, что отражает суть
Всполоха средь Маеты,
Деградирующей в Жуть.
---------------------
Ум — собрание неврозов.
Создаются вновь угрозы —
Страхом правят миром этим.
Много бед ещё мы встретим:
Лже-болезни, войны, чушью
Оглупление — бездушье
Цель ТВАРЬЯ, что множит беды,
СотвАрив неврозов ср`еду.
---------------------
Клети-плети?
ТВАРИ метят
Чушью всех рабов, а "пряник"
Главным средь Фашистской Срани...
---------------------
Усилие, коль правильно,
Ценней "успехов" всех,
Ведь много лжи навалено
Для легковерных тех,
Кто деньги, "славу" потчуют
Энергии взамен.
А правильно, то те надут
В Психее Ветер Перемен.
---------------------
"Морковка" прочнее стали
"Морковкой" перековка
В раба, что верит в Чушь.
Айда скорей, обновки
На... Бирже Утлых Душ!..
---------------------
Всемирная дрочилка чувств и эмоций
"Чувство слабо и заблуждается".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.
Бить по чувствам, ум гнобя,
Потерял чтоб ты себя, —
Вот политика уродов
В мире рабских сумасбродов.
---------------------
Сверхвысокая цена
"Ничто не покупается за большую цену, чем частица человеческого разума и свободы".
Фридрих Ницше.
Распродажа —
Дурни в раже.
Продаётся хлам за души,
Ум и честь, свободу. Слушай
Глупости чрез зомбоящик —
То, что Ад здесь настоящий,
Не поймёшь, обманом скован:
Чушь и хлам — крепки оковы!..
---------------------
Откуда ты и где сейчас,
Куда идёшь — вот в чём загадка.
Веками оглупляют нас,
Ведь человек довольно падкий
На ложь ТВАРЬЯ и слаб душой,
А ум — так впору рассмеяться.
Не думай скудной головой —
Чрез Чуйку научись СПАСАТЬСЯ!
---------------------
Нормальный такой Армагедец
"Мир всегда возвращается к норме. Важно к чьей".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
"Норму" Прорва установит,
Что сжирает Ум и Дух.
Так стремись к Духовной Нови —
Прочь от сатанизма слуг!
Все здесь слуги сатанизма —
Исключения редк`и:
Как пример говнид, рашизма
В Гнили прущие ростки.
Интроспекция, критичность,
Интуиция — твои
Средства для Пути. И личность
Надо быстро превзойти.
Через личность околичность
ТВАРЕЙ пролагает шлях
Прямо в Сердце. Чрез критичность
Выбрось Зла тлетворный прах.
Интроспекция поможет
Свет, внутри что, отыскать.
Интуиция умножит
В`иденье вовне. Искать —
Вот единственная ценность
В Аде, что идёт на слом.
Знает это инфернальность —
Катаклизм ей как облом.
Солнце светит всё сильнее —
Скоро будет баня здесь.
Недоумки всё тупее —
Пар прогонит дурь и спесь.
---------------------
"Нормальное" безумие —
Вот "норма", та что ныне
Господствует:
Юродствует
"Народ", да так, что стынет
Кровь в жилах. Скудоумие
Былой этап. Всё сгинет...
---------------------
Сумерки ума во Всемирном Концлагере
"Усилия на ложном пути множат заблуждения".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.
Толпа чрез ложь "идей" стремится
"Большое счастье" обрести.
Тот путь во Тьму — иное мнится.
Недолго до неё идти,
Ведь ныне Сумерки. Зло множит
Тупую ложь — пример говнид.
Обманы, страхи уничтожат
Последний ум. Концлагерь бдит
Над тем, чтоб Чутких единицы
Впредь ни на йоту не смогли
Влиять на быдло. О деннице
Пора забыть — нас не спасти.
---------------------
The "Miracle" of North Korea
Study it, then start to apply—
Make the people more afraid,
But a "paradise" you can't deny,
Is one that’s never truly made.
---------------------
What Did the Universe Tell the Moth?
"The Universe spoke..." you say,
But you're no zero in its sight—
You're a fat minus, led astray,
A bubble of ego, lost in flight.
---------------------
"GazMeat" Concern, "LiesBred" Trust
"GazMeat" runs the show, with lies,
"OilFear" keeps the lies intact.
The state’s own structure, full of ties,
Turns what was good into the cracked.
Is it a state, or just a mask?
CowID leaves doubts to grow,
The Puppetmaster takes the task—
And lets the beasts all rule below.
---------------------
"Blessings" Missed—Is That Misfortune?
Missed the "blessings"—what a fate?
Luck? Just dust beyond the gate.
For the Soul to serve and strive—
That’s the curse for those who thrive.
World’s a coffin, "gains" are dust,
If the Spirit’s crushed to rust.
Glory, riches, hollow cheer—
"Lofty heights" for slaves to steer.
---------------------
To Think You Know It All
To think you know—now that’s the fear,
Worse than the void of what’s unclear.
For in that pride, you always fail—
A legacy of falsehoods’ tale.
---------------------
My Address
My address isn’t house or street,
But the city of the blind,
The realm where deafness fills the air,
The land of fools confined.
The structure—chains that bind.
---------------------
More of the "Mohr" to Come.
More "Mohr" will come, no doubt,
If you’re a fool who’s quick to shout.
The idiot waits, the screen decides,
As if the truth within it hides.
---------------------
The Fool's Courage
Does the fool’s boldness
Impress you? No,
Not when there's no reason,
And madness takes the show.
A fool's own motivation,
Take war as a sign:
Without evacuation,
Life’s worth is barely a dime.
Only before death’s door
Will he see the cost,
Not with his mind, but "fur"—
A fool, forever lost.
---------------------
Burnt-Out "Machine"
A poet sold to evil’s stream—
No fix will bring back fire or dream.
His words now spin in dull pretense,
A goat’s own verbal impotence.
---------------------
Fears Are the Gallows
Fears are gallows,
Lies the axe,
Fight the evil,
Don’t look back.
---------------------
The Scoop, Matches in Stock
A scoop, some matches stashed away,
And soap upon the shelf so neat.
A vow was made—without delay—
No drinking, quiet, in defeat.
---------------------
Whose Board Is It, Anyway?
To whom is the board, for whom the game?
To many strangers, none the same.
This path is for the chosen few,
The rest just shovel through the blue.
---------------------
Make It Sound More Sophisticated
Let the nonsense grow profounder,
Teach it high in college halls.
Fools will stand up even prouder,
Lying big while thinking tall.
Fake new science, like a preacher,
Took the priests' old feeding ground.
Speak too clear? Then every creature—
Even donkeys—won’t be bound.
Once the jargon starts to crumble,
Once they talk in simpler ways,
All their nonsense sounds like mumble,
Fading out in weak delays.
---------------------
The Recurrence of the Bovine Virus
Strife—"strife" again. Thief,
Is it repeating, this grief?
---------------------
Liberation from Hell
A shift in "dimension" means death,
If you’re aware of it,
A chance to leave this solid breath,
Which’s hit its lowest bit.
But first, you must live your life,
Full of creation’s spark,
And visions clear. If you stir strife,
You’ll never leave The Dark.
---------------------
Means of Building Communism
Ah, to be a pioneer—
Inspired by freaks, year after year,
To swear an oath, the party's call,
And claim "happy childhood" for all.
With tools of building, they'll raise you high,
While praising madness as the sky.
---------------------
The Press of Evil
Gagarin "flew beyond the sky,"
But left his camera behind.
We swallow lies and don’t ask why—
This fate was shaped for humankind.
It drains our will, it warps the mind,
And keeps the masses dull and tame.
A screen, a beer—just sit, unwind—
The honest ones are dead and shamed.
Then Yankees "landed on the Moon,"
Their cameras caught it all, no less.
And so, by propaganda’s tune,
They crushed us with their press of press.
Then more would come—false "plagues" were spread,
First just a test, then all-out game.
The world was drowned in CowID dread
To learn its place, to bow in shame.
That shame—a Global Cattle Camp,
Where "care" will be the siren’s call.
Your leash will be a data clamp—
A digital corral for all.
---------------------
The Passing Years
The years go by, the fools grow more,
The further, dumber they become.
And so misfortune strikes the shore:
The dumber the world, the crueler some.
---------------------
Catching the Golden Catfish
We drag out Happiness, gills shaking—
Still, it fights with all its might.
Light the candles, prayers making—
Churches, homes—but no delight.
Reeling in this stubborn creature
Proves to be a futile chore.
Could it be that Nature's feature
Keeps it slipping from the shore?
Don’t chase joy—it’s just a fiction,
Seek fulfillment, chase the deed!
Flip the script—your life's affliction
Comes from waiting for the bliss you need.
---------------------
The Land of Dreams Nowhere
To live by dreams—such simple creed,
But all is trash, where tears may feed.
What’s a dream in such a place?
A folly—dreams lead to NOWHERE’s space.
---------------------
Mask and Helmet
Mask is a helmet—at command,
The "people" move, just as they're planned.
In this hellish, twisted dance,
Fools crush the best with no chance:
A rose—a stone, it’s tossed aside,
The stone remains, the flower dies.
---------------------
Citizen No One in the Land of Nowhere
In Nowhere, No One cannot fight
Fate’s cruel hand, or bear the blight.
The fool’s conscience fades with time,
Honor’s lost—spit on it, no crime.
---------------------
Gilded Cages and the Rest
Life in a thorned and narrow cage,
Or thorns outside—worse, to wage!
Ancestors left this cursed mark,
In slavery's chains, the soul grows dark.
In tangled realms, we stumble, lost—
A legacy of endless cost.
---------------------
Big Money and the Rest
It’s not that you control the cash,
But money twists you, makes you fall—
It’ll use you for its every lash,
Until you’re lost, no self at all.
---------------------
Porridge with Meat and Butter
You can't spoil porridge with some butter,
Fear will bind the herd, no doubt.
Lies will lock them in and smother—
Then the slaughter’s coming out.
---------------------
Probing Attack, or Overton’s Window
They send out fools—just light aggression,
To test how much the world will bear.
Once cracks appear, there’s no concession—
The mad battalions swarm in there.
The charge won’t stop; and soon, what’s shocking
Becomes the "norm," no more taboo.
It’s evil’s maw—forever clocking
What else it’s hungry to chew through.
The world grows numb, its mind corrupted—
These probes keep swarming, day and night.
And all "for care," so sly, so trusted—
The traitors feed us blatant lies.
---------------------
Aging Children
Kids leave college, young and clueless,
Never growing, stuck in place.
Life will test them—cold and ruthless,
Filtering the hopeless case.
Few will rise, while most will wither,
Aged-up scouts with childish minds.
Yet among the beasts, they linger,
Ripe for graves their fate defines.
Such a fate is planned, constructed—
Grown-up minds aren’t meant to be.
Easier to keep them rusted,
Locked in Camps where none break free.
Once for scouts, the camps were standing,
Now they’re built with screens and codes.
No place there for minds demanding—
Only drones who take their loads.
---------------------
The Crossing
"Crossing over, crossing over!
Left bank, right—now drift in clover..."
No, it's Charon, grim and fated,
Not from myths—he’s here, he’s waited.
Souls of dead crowd all around him,
Off they go—new Earth to hound in.
Once again, they’ll feast and plunder—
That's the curse we're living under.
Hell itself is but a clinic,
Leper ward—its grasp systemic.
Death won't free you—leave in sorrow,
Just to fall again tomorrow.
---------------------
Population Cut by Bovine Virus and War
First reduce, then crush the weak,
Those who remain, no mercy shown.
In Hell itself, there’s no retreat,
As Hell’s own end begins to grow.
A global Cataclysm looms,
It seals the fate, the final toll.
Genocide and fascist gloom—
They’ll pay the price, the heavy roll.
---------------------
Roof-Crawling
The tower falls, but slow, unseen—
It’s hardly noticed as it’s done.
A madman, calm and quite serene,
Can fool the world and still be spun.
In books and blogs, you’ll find the wreck
Of madness hiding in plain sight.
Disguised as wit, it’s all unchecked,
A twisted, vulgar kind of might.
The sign is clear—no sense remains,
Just words all jumbled, empty, tossed.
In quiet madness, all that strains
Is fragile thought, forever lost.
---------------------
Nonsense Modeling Pseudo-Reality
X and Y, and Z instead—
Form the three-dimensional dread.
Add on time to raise the weight,
To make the burden escalate.
But the Spirit’s depth forgot,
Everywhere, the fleeting thought—
They imposed it, called it "life,"
The BEASTS' deceit, their endless strife.
---------------------
Fools bear the cross—it's always fated,
The best are nailed, then left to die.
They call it fate—it's fabricated.
They spread the "plague", and filth runs high.
This is their game, their grand tradition,
To dull the minds, to twist and cheat.
A whole industry’s positioned
To breed the fools—their tool, their fleet.
And with sheer numbers, fools start crushing,
Stamping out the brightest minds.
Hold on, my friend—just keep on rushing,
This filth will fade with passing time.
The sun burns stronger, ever blazing,
For decades now, it lights the way.
Yet fools strike harder, blindly raging,
To break the best beneath their sway.
---------------------
Masha, Pasha, your delight—
To serve, believe, to wait in line.
The promised cup will come in sight,
With endless wealth—but not for thine.
What they’ll pour into that cup,
Fools aren't meant to ever know.
Day by day, it's filling up—
Sinking lower, down below.
---------------------
Step by step—too slow, too hollow,
Fades the path and meets its end...
Was it others you would follow?
Walk alone—don’t just pretend.
Few will share your thoughts sincerely,
Few will stand and see you through.
So keep moving, pushing fiercely—
Strength will grow inside of you.
If you grumble, lost and weary,
You will never make it through.
---------------------
We keep scratching, thinking, blinking—
Sawdust fills our heads, unshrinking.
Presses through our skin, revealing,
Makes all shouting less appealing.
Without chants and noise, we're hollow—
Winnie fools aren’t fit to follow.
If we fail to cheer in chorus,
Our great leader will abhor us.
Scratch until it bleeds, no slacking,
Or they'll call you vile and lacking.
If your sawdust spills and scatters,
Fresh is stuffed—the press still flatters.
---------------------
We sit in burrows, talk and chatter,
Embracing lies, yet dream of bliss.
If "brothers" harm us—doesn't matter,
We'll break them down with iron fists.
But when the beasts in power tower,
Demand, command, and call the shots,
We hold our tongues and shrink in coward-
ice—even if they pour in toxins hot.
If they "request" with threats unspoken,
With job loss looming in the air,
Then slaves stay bent, with spirits broken,
While bastards sit on royal chairs.
---------------------
Школа
Науку верить, подчиняться
Проходит каждый, ведь её
Назвали школой — уклоняться
Ад не позволит: жри Гнильё!
Гнильё идей, в котором рабство
Прикрыто "светлою" ***нёй,
А дерьмократией — тиранство.
Цель школ — ущербный головой.
Там лженаука протодьякон,
А ересь Духа под запрет.
Днесь устарели дыбы, плахи —
Сильнее бьёт Тлетворный Бред.
---------------------
Бессребреники как исчезающий вид
Имеем деньги, и имеет
Зло жадных, глупых через них.
Признать народец то не смеет —
В нём бессЕребреник как псих.
Но псих ли, коли НЕ ИМЕЕТ?
Тут алчность "нормой", потому
Всё разъяснить толпе сумеет
Продажный СМРАД, служить Дерьму
Научит школа — всё чин чином,
И мало кто здесь сознаёт,
Что ТАК! за денежки гнуть спины
Умеет лишь безумный сброд.
---------------------
"Жизнь хороша!" — чрез то диагноз
Поставить можно большинству.
Для шизы ключевые фразы
Известны. Бредят наяву
Все ерундиты, безусловно, —
Чрез память убивают ум.
Нормальность здесь весьма условна —
В Аду... Долой словесный шум! —
Чрез интуицию Познанье
Спасёт от "триппера ума":
Увидишь — дурни на закланьи
Среди Словесного Дерьма.
Вариант: Спасёт от "насморка ума":
---------------------
Конечный пункт
"Люди — как игральные кости: мы бросаем себя вперёд по жизни".
Жан-Поль Сартр.
Не прав Жан Сартр, не ты кидаешь
Всё время кости, а ТВАРЬЁ
Кидает Ложь в толпу — лажаешь
И движешься с толпой в Гнильё.
Случайность малой псевдожизни
Не может изменить расклад.
Ползут чрез Ложь тупые слизни.
Конечный пункт — чрез соль в Распад.
---------------------
Коса Смерти
Важной частью жизни утлой —
Это время береги.
А иначе не на шутку
Разозлится. Напряги
Ум и Душу, чтоб оставить
Свой причудливый рубец
В шкуре мира. Будешь славить
Чушь голимую — конец.
Чушь ТВАРЬЯ — она повсюду:
Одолела Тьма рабов.
Творчества рубец пусть будет
Вызовом средь Лжи Оков.
Время в Творчестве учитель
Очень строгий, потому
Или ты со Злом воитель,
Иль ударит по уму
Время: в Чуши не заметишь —
Опустился ты на Дно.
Там предателей ты встретишь —
Им под****ывать срамно.
Творческих людей так! мало,
А под****ков пруд пруди:
Человечество пропало —
Только беды впереди.
Время стало приговором —
Катаклизмы на носу:
В них не спрятаться по норам...
Может днесь воспеть Косу?..
---------------------
Искусство, псевдожизнь
Почти несовместимы.
Лишь к Высшему стремись —
Ты на краю обрыва.
Так выбирай Полёт,
Пусть мигом разобьёшься,
Не спуск в убогий сброд —
Там медленно загнёшься.
---------------------
The "president" is a Nasty Cop
I’ll put on my muzzle and helmet —
Off I go, to defend our top swine.
Orders rule me, I live to obey them,
Every nonsense decree — it is mine.
There's no joy that can match this devotion:
To submit, to obey, to comply.
We’re encircled by foreign commotion —
Local scum can’t just steal on the sly!
And I love all the lies that they’re slinging,
I wear noodles from head to my feet.
I would sell my own soul without blinking —
Just to serve every scumbag I meet.
---------------------
The Transnistrian Fascist Regime
A stinking regime where reason had changed —
Just call it the coffin-fund state and be done.
The cop is the master — degraded, deranged —
The people? Squeezed dry, every last one.
---------------------
Transnistrian Shit
Transnistrian kind of hell:
Forty euros to the cripple.
Where else rings that rotten bell,
Where a louse is crowned as triple?!
Louse commands the cops alone —
Planted plenty, proud and loud.
He’s not ruling from the throne —
He fell lower than the ground.
---------------------
A "Miracle" Song? Not Quite That Strong
A “miracle” song—what a claim,
Yet poetry’s barely the heart of the game.
The music comes first, as they try to enchant,
Luring the crowd with a cheap, hollow chant.
The lyrics, once artful, now turn into jokes,
A parody drowned in the trash for the folks.
What once held meaning is lost in the beat—
Dumbed down to keep the masses on heat.
---------------------
Liposuction of the Mind
Liposuction of the mind’s a dream—
A cure that's nowhere to be seen.
In fascist filth, through lies we’ve strayed,
Now lost in what they’ve falsely made.
We need to drain the evil fat,
From minds where wicked thoughts are at.
Without it, Earth will soon be lost,
Under the Goat’s oppressive cost.
---------------------
Cupid’s Aim
When Cupid strikes, his arrow flies,
And reason fades before your eyes.
Love’s old law—no way to pass:
You’ll end up as a foolish ass.
---------------------
Ukraine Will Win
Ukraine will win—have no doubt,
The stench of rashism is fading out.
With "glorious past" and "rising tall,"
That filth can’t reach success at all.
---------------------
Wishing Them Success? What a Jest!
Wishing scum success? What a jest!
A fearless man, upright and blessed,
Won’t stand with them, won’t play their game—
Unless he joins their rotten chain.
Alone, he’ll never break the wall,
His strength will shatter, lose it all.
For everywhere that you may go,
The iron-hearted run the show.
---------------------
TV Trash Bin
Their TV tales are bold and bright—
A paradise is soon in sight!
Yet all they do is flush the minds
Of fools who fall for empty lines.
They pour their lies straight in your ears,
Call piss "divine" to mask your fears.
Their goal is clear—your soul to break,
For weak minds bend when thoughts misplace.
---------------------
Tightening the Screws
The screws turn tighter every day,
Yet they still lie—it’s freedom’s way.
And if the threads begin to break,
They'll simply say, "Tough luck, to take."
---------------------
Panda. The Leaf-Chewing Crew
A panda gang, a munching horde,
Left nothing standing—none restored.
Those from the North, the brownish kind,
Dragged all culture far behind,
Devoured it all. And fools, you see,
Are still called "the people"—free.
They graze, endure, believe the lie—
On scraps they feed, and think they’ll thrive.
---------------------
A Fool Will Dig Your Grave
A fool will drive you to the grave,
No space for tests—none left to save.
And thanks to them, this world’s a mess,
A sinking ship in deep distress.
---------------------
The Sheepish World
Deceit and fear, betrayals, lies,
Corruption, darkness—filth unfurled.
Sheep stand in pens, with empty eyes,
Then march to slaughter, by command.
Just plant the myth of "freedom" deep,
And flocks will never break their chain.
But few refuse to be like sheep—
Their very presence sparks disdain.
And fewer still can stand the fight,
Defying all, they face the curse.
Like rare birds lost in endless night,
You'll find them where the world is worse.
---------------------
The Sickle and the Stone
The clash of steel and stone grows weaker,
For stones are vanishing each day.
And when the last is gone, the reapers
Will sweep the fields without delay.
They’ll place that stone in halls of glory—
The toil will end, the fight be done.
But stand your ground, though hard and lonely,
And never yield to anyone.
---------------------
Literary "Ghosts"
Dumas had "ghosts"—a silent crew,
He wrote a lot, and so they drew.
The habit spread through every nation,
A thriving trade—pure exploitation.
Some "authors" steal with no regret,
Their finest lines were never penned.
Yet ghostwork yields no true perfection—
Just one more fraud in all directions.
---------------------
Hellish Bliss, or Flush 'Em Down
The fools’ own paradise stands tall—
It’s long been thriving.
Just few remain—mere men and all—
Where LIES are grinding.
They call it "God’s great world," you see,
A joke, for certain.
So go and flush them down with glee—
No rules, no burden.
A noble citizen you’ll be—
A pawn for scoundrels.
You’ll live till gray, but never free—
Among the HUNGRY.
For heads in heaven serve one call—
To chew and swallow.
And if you stand against them all—
Life pays you hollow.
---------------------
Kinda "Success"
Our fool is drained, his strength is gone,
Just waiting for "success" to shine.
So many crave it—yet it's won
By those who trade their soul and mind.
If you won’t sell—your odds are thin,
To "rise" is near impossible.
You won’t achieve a single thing
If truth makes even friends feel ill.
But vent the steam, don't stir up hate,
Let sarcasm be mild and neat.
Just nudge a bit—don’t agitate,
Forget decay and blind deceit.
Then, maybe, crowds will grant you fame.
Decadence? Sure, but stay in line.
Don’t dare to shout, "The world's insane!"—
And fate might toss you a few dimes.
---------------------
Hard to Learn – but Easy Dying
To learn is hard—the words are burning,
Their goal—the LAST AND FINAL FIGHT.
Yet every age keeps blindfold yearning,
Believing "leaders" show the light.
But he who leads—the Lord of Sorrow,
He thrives on torment, death, and pain.
The lie conceals a dark tomorrow,
And thus, its value must remain.
For BEASTS who feed on death and slaughters,
No reason matters—just the feast.
A little falsehood, tripled orders,
And DEAD SOULS march to kill the "beast."
---------------------
The Hard Question of Reason
A fur-clad beast or mind that’s free?
Fake "science" spreads like leprosy.
Pavlov’s dogs are all around—
Two-legged ones, so well dumbed down.
Through deceit, they’ve reached the pit,
Yet they thrived and cashed on it.
Call the herd "a thinking nation"—
BEASTS require such persuasion.
Say "progress"—reason fades away,
And soon no mind will see the day.
That truth was clear with CowID’s game,
Where fools embraced their chains of shame.
A digital camp is on the rise,
The rats build walls, control the skies.
"AI" will serve the mindless masses—
Their final gift—before it crashes.
---------------------
"A-Grade" Preachers
The "honored" fools, so dull, so bleak,
Still teach us how to think and speak.
It would be kinder, truth be told,
To end them quick—just break the mold.
The more they breed, the worse they get,
No talent, just the same regret.
And fighting fools is growing tough—
Deception’s grip is strong enough.
Now lies are all the world can hear,
And reason fades—it disappears.
With every blow, the madness grows,
Till thought itself is laid to close…
---------------------
;Fading into Summer
We drift into the endless fade,
Slaves to delusion, bound by fear.
No other fate for us is made—
The path we walk is crystal clear.
---------------------
;No to a World Gone Mad!
Not all thoughts are truly yours—
Lies hang heavy in the air.
Drowned in falsehood, lost in wars,
Reason gasps but finds no care.
Little left that’s truly real,
Madness spreads—a beast unfed.
Saying "no" takes iron will,
Truth is crushed by waves of dread.
No to tyrants, no to chains!
Shame to those who bow and serve!
Crying "no!" still hope remains—
NO—to Rot and Rule Absurd!
---------------------
The Measure of "Faith"
Faith is nothing but the leash,
The rest is nonsense, lies, and speech.
Your mind is lost in myths so blind—
Cast off the noise that clouds your mind!
Awaken instinct, trust your way,
The climb is hard, but don’t delay:
It’s not a heaven you will find,
But clarity, a sharpened mind.
---------------------
Absurdity
To the Moon they "fly" like wonders,
Spreading "plagues", the world’s unclean...
Is it just some minor blunders?
CowID showed the rot within.
Cargo-leaders drive the cattle,
Fools to slaughter, blind, betrayed.
Drowned in darkness, lost in battle,
Is the world beyond dismay?
Are there hopes for new ascension,
Or is madness all we see?
Will catastrophe’s dissension
Set the rotten spirit free?
Few oppose—their will unbroken,
Standing firm against decay.
They are few, yet not forsaken.
Not forsaken—till the day...
---------------------
To Fly Is Simple
To soar the skies—what’s there to master?
A mole might take to flight one day,
And digging deep, yet learning faster,
It’ll forge ahead its way.
Beasts would strive with zeal unshaken
To end their evolution’s run.
But fools, by ancient filth forsaken,
Still dream Nirvana can be won.
The wise will rise and leave behind them
This madhouse, doomed to crash and burn.
Yet those who dwell where chains still bind them—
Their reckoning will come in turn.
This world’s an asylum, lost and broken,
Too many madmen, few who see.
So rise—if freedom is your token,
And fear no "god’s harsh penalty".
---------------------
Open Wide the Faithful Gate
Bow and pray—don’t hesitate,
Worship now, before it’s late.
God is gone—since time’s creation,
Only demons rule the nation.
Is the world a wretched mess?
Satan’s work—no more, no less.
Still, you trust the priest’s decree,
Scholars’ tales—deceptive, free.
Are they lying for the Lord,
Or does Satan pull the cord?
Doubt is dead, no questions rise,
Gutless minds make sheep of lives...
---------------------
A New Strategy
Knock the tumbler, make it sway,
Shift its center—watch it fall!
"Simpleton" now sees the way,
What a breakthrough—best of all!
Tumbling dolls are everywhere,
Strength in numbers, dumb but loud.
Yet they’re built beyond repair,
Meant for wars of times long past.
But today, the fools hold might—
Crush their lies, don’t let them stand!
Tilt their balance, shift their fight—
End the slaughter, break their plan.
---------------------
The Bomber Brings Peace
The bomber brings peace from the skies—
On barren land, no discord lies.
The world’s a target, clear and wide,
Where a sharp shot will turn the tide.
---------------------
Do you control your phone, my friend,
Or does it lead you to the end?
You’ll face addiction, it’s a fact,
As it pulls at your mind, intact.
---------------------
Faith in “God” is part of game,
Fake science too, just the same.
The spirit’s voice has been suppressed,
For the system’s rule is a beast’s quest.
---------------------
Чушь лже-классики и лженауки в школе
Знает мудрый, то что скука
Для искусства словно смерть.
В школах чушь и лженауки =>
И в мозгах детишек Твердь.
И разбить ту Твердь, коль взрослый,
Невозможно, потому,
Думай юноша, ведь поздно
В тридцать лет служить Уму.
---------------------
Не служи злой родине —
Поклоняйся Истине:
Будешь благородие
С помыслами чистыми.
---------------------
Газообмен среда и тело...
Среда и Мысль: поток умело
От Мысли в ср`еду исказили =>
И получили Мир Дебилий.
---------------------
Духовное Виденье и Злой Отстой мира
Вера в "бога"
Иль в себя?
Надо много,
Свет любя,
Думать, видеть,
Но Душой,
Чтоб покинуть
Злой Отстой:
Непричастная Душа,
Или станешь как парша.
Непричастность к Злу спасёт —
Хворью мира идиот.
---------------------
Из Ада в Ад и через Ад
"Как видно, в аду есть и вход, и выход, коль скоро можно пройти через ад".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Из Ада в Ад и через Ад:
Круги, их цель бездушный гад.
Но к "счастию" бежит толпа —
С умишком плохо у раба.
---------------------
Тотальная цензура псевдопоисковиков
"Мыслей должно быть столько, чтобы цензоров на них не хватало".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Скудоумие — и цензор
Царь и бог. Поисковик
Ныне оный. Множь Мысль, Дерзость,
Коль ко Злу ты не привык.
---------------------
Правота Одинокого Воина
"Истина выше людей и не должна бояться их".
Виссарион Белинский.
Тьма господствует. Вот правда.
Деградации навал.
Будь той истиной, взаправду,
А иначе ты пропал.
И не бойся — слишком поздно
Перед Тьмою трепетать:
Лжеболезни, войны грозно
Лезут в мир; всё больше лгать
Стали с каждым годом. Миром
Правят Ложь, Тлетворный Страх.
Стань в глазах рабов Секирой —
Одинокий Воин прав.
---------------------
Мир машин
"Угроза человеку идет даже не от возможного губительного действия машин и технических препаратов. Подлинная угроза уже подступила к человеку в самом его существе".
Мартин Хайдеггер.
Машинный мир. Ты не машина?!
А как говнид и в Украине
Война безумная; кретины —
Напрасный труд, согн`уты спины;
А ложь тотальная бензином
По венам движется? "Мужчины" —
Когда набить соседям морды.
Но строем рабским очень горды —
Лишь назови его "свободой"...
Короче, мало не уродов,
Всё потому обречено —
Лишь пробивать у Днища Дно.
---------------------
Ненормальности фатальность,
Одолела инфернальность.
Чуткость ныне как сакральность.
Штормы лжи — в них семибальность.
---------------------
Self-Deception
Self-deception starts so early,
A veil for truths they cannot face.
For sheep stay mute while fires fury,
Content within their fenced embrace.
They tell themselves they're free and guided,
That fate is theirs to rule and steer,
Yet march in line—no choice provided,
Straight to the pot, year after year.
The ruthless ways are not for madness,
They shape a world where sheep obey.
And shepherds preach, in hollow gladness:
"Peace and labor! First of May!"
---------------------
Fear
Fear has entered, then has gone,
But tyranny remains, lives on.
In youth, it’s taught as "order’s" way,
A truth they’re told, a price to pay.
It drives the mind to think no more,
Replaces thought with shadows’ lore—
And from that void, a twisted mind
Is shaped by greed, by fear, confined.
---------------------
The Trained Buffoon
A trained buffoon—half-beast, half-human,
A man in name, yet little more.
A scavenger, forever doomed and
Bound to serve the beasts in store.
The wretched sellouts fail to notice
They're mere prey within the snare.
Their masters’ grip is cold and soulless,
Though it feels like thinner air.
Waves unseen engulf their senses,
Sapping will both night and day.
Feeding on their drained defenses,
Stealing souls along the way.
But hear your Heart—its voice still lingers,
Whispering truths they want unknown.
Maybe then, through fate’s cold fingers,
You will claim what is your own...
---------------------
The Game Is Lost
The game is lost, the deck is rigged,
No chance to win, no path to stray.
So throw the cards into their grins—
The ones who took the game away...
---------------------
Vileness
"Politeness is but a fig leaf for selfishness."
— Arthur Schopenhauer
A fig leaf won’t conceal the rot,
Nor hide the filth, nor mask the stain.
It’s time to end this—like it or not,
No life should drown in dirt and pain.
---------------------
The Way of "States"
A bureaucrat will feed you lies,
And bribes will fill the boss’s hand.
Corruption stays, the truth just dies—
That’s how all "nations" rule the land.
Fake states alone—no others here,
As CowID made clear to see,
When swarms of vermin served with cheer
A reign of lies and lunacy.
---------------------
Folly Organized
Folly's organized and bound,
Built on lies that twist and twine.
Gaia’s lost, her will unwound—
To Moloch she’s confined.
---------------------
So Many Fools
There are many fools around,
Plus informants, watch your back!
Still believe in God’s profound?
He’s the horned one—take a crack!
---------------------
Buried Talents
Burying talents, then grieving the loss,
Fooled by cheap lies and propaganda's gloss—
So many people have chosen that fate,
Tricked into silence, surrender, and hate.
But such is the price when the Spark is denied:
The world turns to filth, with the Light pushed aside.
Where there's no fire, no soul to stay strong—
Darkness devours, and evil lives long.
---------------------
Too Many Fools...
So many fools—who could have guessed?
Yet war has sealed their fate so grim.
For years, their land will know unrest,
And shame will never fade from them.
Will they atone? No, fools won’t bother—
A new f;hrer will arise,
To preach "old values," like the other,
And blind them yet again with lies.
Again, he’ll "raise them from their knees,"
Again, they’ll march into the pyre.
No change will come—no hope, no peace,
For Folly's god is their empire.
---------------------
Gulliver’s Fall
Gulliver, once bold and grand,
Now a Lilliputian, less than planned.
The dwarfs are now the ones held high,
Read the new books—they'll tell you why.
---------------------
"Freedom" of Choice
Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Lenin,
Pol Pot, Mussolini’s lot...
Soon their paradise is pending—
Lay your neck beneath the slot.
Or, if you prefer, a hanging,
Or the rack—your choice is grand!
Is it freedom they are granting,
Or just Hell at your command?
CowID showed the world’s delusion,
How the "free" were bound in chains.
Now they hail AI’s intrusion,
Lies renewed with cold disdain.
A digital camp is rising,
Not for one, but all mankind.
Hell, by "choice," they are devising,
Where the warden’s gear-designed.
---------------------
The "Holy" Trinity
The Trinity divides in three:
A god, a ghost, a "father" high.
But God is just a fantasy—
A mask beneath a servant's lie.
This world was shaped by beastly schemes,
By Lucifer, their king declared.
And all is wrapped in smoky dreams
Of false beliefs that none have dared.
---------------------
Song of Deceit
Sing, oh song, across the sky!
That sky is filled with lies that fly—
And drifting there, the foolish roam,
"Real men" lost in their false home.
---------------------
I Remember a Lovely Moment
I remember a moment so sweet,
When we said goodbye, you and I.
For years, after that parting's defeat,
A different sorrow filled my sky.
---------------------
The Path Through Dread
The path goes through the dread, the mire,
The soul’s the essence, don’t inquire.
If lost along the way you stray,
Just follow on, though you may sway!
---------------------
The Iron Lie
The tempered iron, sharp and cruel,
No longer suits a modern slave.
"Work hard, play smart, obey the rule —
You'll reach the heights you truly crave!
Just save and strive, and you shall rise,
Grow rich beyond your wildest thought..."
That’s how they rule — with gilded lies.
You’ll die beneath them, fool, for naught.
---------------------
Dancing on the Ice
Dancing, prancing on the sea—
Though it's frozen, can't you see?
Once it melts, you’re sinking fast.
Such is Bottom dance at last.
That’s the goal the beasts embrace,
And they’ve done it with finesse.
The ice is thinning—cracks in place,
And now comes the great distress.
---------------------
Insanity
Insanity’s when flesh and bone
Suppress the soul, and leave it weak.
The fools are many, cold as stone—
Where inhumanity will speak.
Delusion, madness, fear that binds,
A venom’s grip, a poison’s seed.
The depths of evil’s cruel designs—
Our fate is lost, its course decreed.
---------------------
The Futility of Life
The fuss of this futile life,
It weighs down, it’s all I dread.
Only slugs and the dullest strife
Rejoice in life, with minds half-dead.
---------------------
In the Rashist Filth...
An old, gray nag, long past his glory,
Prepares to print his sacred lore.
"The crowd" will buy the same old story—
For fools believe it evermore.
Few minds remain, yet they’re excluded,
The “people” have no place for them.
And so, in darkness, undisputed,
All books were lost at fate’s command.
The F;hrer-madman keeps on preaching,
Three volumes filled with hollow lies.
But who recalls the past deceiving?
For now, this "people"—just a guise.
---------------------
Porridge, Masha—Fate of Ours
Eat your porridge, Masha dear,
Hear a tale of love and grace.
Yet beyond these stories here,
Good is lost without a trace.
All the world decays and crumbles,
Even fairy tales turn vile.
Modern ones are madman’s mumbles—
Have less cake, it’s not worthwhile.
You will need your strength, no question,
Through the Mire you’ll be led.
Fate allows no other direction—
Hell’s the path we all must tread.
---------------------
The Precious Broadcast
A precious show, too hard to bear,
To listen to this twisted air—
Clowns who serve the beasts with cheer,
Unmoved, uncaring, year to year.
---------------------
Olympics "twenty" slipped away,
Postponed a year—just one, no more.
The brutes bent all without delay,
For fools still rule this world’s d;cor.
And worse awaits—just watch them dreaming,
Their twisted minds know no restraint.
A f;hrer raves, his madness screaming:
"We’ve risen strong!"—a bold complaint.
Now he proclaims his grand invasion,
Berlin must shake, D.C. must kneel!
But lies will soon outgrow persuasion,
And reason’s death will be their seal...
---------------------
Будь собой — не стада частью:
Пир горой среди несчастий
Стад всеобщей деградации —
В дни говнида в кульминации.
---------------------
Хрущ
Кукурузный дед
Гонит черни бред.
Дурни поддаются:
Морок — не очнуться!
---------------------
Бровастый
Старый маразматик
Речь как бочку катит —
Только комплименты
И аплодисменты.
---------------------
Трёхпалый, или Власть плутократии
Ельцин тупорылый
Сколь загнал в могилы?
Веришь в демократию
Или плутократию
Яро обличаешь —
Душу тем спасаешь?..
---------------------
Горби
Пятнистый словоблуд,
Отродие иуд,
Он что-то "перестроил",
Но хрен чего построил.
---------------------
Адропоид
Студент пошёл в кино — "ату!":
Приставлен новый Хлыст к скоту.
В Загоне дисциплина,
И верят вновь кретины...
---------------------
Черненко
Доходяга вновь у трона:
Это партия "в законе"
Давит всех авторитетом,
Если проще — диким бредом.
---------------------
"Отец народов"
"Усатый нянь":
По струнке встань,
Всё исполняй —
Иль не пеняй!..
---------------------
Владимир Ильи чЛенин и дело р-р-э-волюции
Товарищ чЛенин,
В "народа" пене
Ищи подонков,
Ведь счастье тонко:
Пусть комиссары
Кого на нары,
Кого к расстрелу —
Такое Дело.
---------------------
Массовые убийства и Жопа Коммунизма
****ит — он Троцкий.
Солдатский, флотский
Уродец верит:
Держитесь, дщери,
Сыны буржуев —
Мы атакуем.
В крови утопим,
Построив Жопу...
---------------------
Лаврентий Берия —
К нему доверие:
Заплечных дел
Лихой пострел.
---------------------
Пуйло
Вор и мздоимец:
"Народ"-ленивец
Уродцам верит,
Открыв Злу двери.
---------------------
Building the "Brighter Future"
The darker now, the brighter dawn—
That’s how the tyrants push their lies.
The deeper gloom they trample on,
The harsher toil for those alive.
With theories grand, they preach and plot,
Like Stalin, Pol Pot—strong in creed.
They scrawl their slogans—mindless rot,
And watch a nation burn and bleed.
---------------------
Fake-News Feast
From the void, they craft a tale,
News spun out of empty air.
Eager fools, without fail,
Swallow lies without a care.
Mouths agape, they beg for more,
Never questioning the taste.
Truth, meanwhile, must break the door,
Struggling through a world debased.
Filth and stench of twisted presses
Choke the world in toxic smog.
Liars cheer—but time suppresses,
For their reign won’t last for long.
Soon the clock will strike them down,
Justice waits—its grip is tight.
Infernal lies will burn and drown,
Vanished into endless night.
---------------------
"Brave New World"
Much to think about?
Nothing. Who would care!
Crunch your evening snack,
Watch the screen and stare.
See, a clever guy
Tells us what to do.
We won’t step in lies—
He explains it through.
We’ll defend our fate,
Smash the neighbor’s face,
March towards our great
Happiness embrace.
New rules shall arrive,
Old fools write them down:
"Serve your land—survive!
Throw your mind and drown!"
---------------------
All Roads Lead to the Madhouse
The world is teeming with the mad,
Their numbers growing every day.
When fools and lunatics command,
All roads to Bedlam pave the way.
A fool or schizo walks beside you,
Though you may just be lost, not wild.
But reason barely dares to guide you—
Its voice is hushed where minds are blind.
And when its voice is lost for good,
The fate is sealed, the end is near.
So pull yourself, as best you could,
By reason’s hand from madness clear.
---------------------
Deceitful Words
Tilly-tilly, trally-trally,
What we claimed was love so wally—
We deceived ourselves, so sadly.
---------------------
Waste Not Your Strength
Much strength has gone to waste, I know—
Now focus, bring it to the fore:
Do all with zeal, with fiery glow—
In bold new dawns, as crowns restore.
---------------------
Games of Deceit
Tilly-tilly, trally-trally,
Beat and brawl, they lied so badly.
Lies upon lies, they played their part,
In the puzzle of a broken heart.
---------------------
Blacksmiths of Stupidity's "Happiness"
The gloom of vice is far more sweet—
Darkness never leaves the mind’s retreat.
As for chains that bind from without,
Rust them, forge them anew, no doubt.
---------------------
Elephants and Curs
A cur can bark for hours on,
It’s all the strength it knows.
And when the yapping turns to throngs,
An elephant still bows.
They swarm, they bite—just some draw blood,
Yet still, the wounds run deep.
He falls, they cheer—a lifeless husk,
Another takes the leap.
And elephants grow fewer still,
While mongrels flood the way.
No fable here—those with the will
And Fire fade away.
---------------------
Puzzles and Bruises
Tyrants love their wicked puzzles,
Boots of steel stomp down the street.
Cops and spies—corrupt and muzzled,
Praise the lie, their god of deceit.
They will break you, crush, and shatter,
Not for fun, but for a cause.
Random victims? Doesn't matter—
Devils think with shattered laws.
---------------------
The Depths of Corruption, or The Label-Man
A polished look—that’s all they teach,
A branded world—stamped out like tin.
And “quality” stays out of reach,
Reserved for those who pay to win.
Bright labels shine, yet minds grow hollow,
Their worth’s not set by thought or deed.
That’s why it’s rare today to follow
A soul unmasked in depths of greed.
---------------------
Hopelessness Without a Way
Hopelessness, with no true road,
Few will find themselves, their code.
The rest are lost in tangled lies,
A web of tricks beneath the skies.
---------------------
The Power Divide
A bulldog's bite, a rhino's horn—
"Separation of powers" worn.
A sham, a trick, a wretched game,
In a world where people bring the shame.
---------------------
Supreme Control
Thunder, lightning—frozen, hanging,
Glitch in skies? Oh, that’s alarming!
If the news gets stuck mid-motion,
That’s a glitch with worse devotion.
Not a madhouse—call it cover,
"World’s top roof"—their name’s no other.
Now it’s sliding, slow and steady,
To the press—where power’s ready.
Politics? A clown’s dominion.
Media bends all opinions.
Crowds obey each sly persuasion—
Lies on screen spark blind invasion.
---------------------
;Sheepish Democracy
Who will cut? It’s all a game,
The sheep choose blind, a chosen few,
The shearers’ clan, they stake their claim,
Their hidden power rings untrue.
The styles of cuts they all approve,
It’s still the watchful eye’s design.
The sheep, in bliss, they blindly move—
Dreaming of a freedom that’s not mine.
---------------------
Self-Deception
Deceive yourself, you’re not a knight,
"Free will" is nothing but a fight.
You’re but a watcher of decay,
And in that role, you lead astray.
---------------------
The Way Out
There’s always a way, and usually
It’s where the entrance used to be.
But into darkness, you run foolishly,
Mind scattered, lost in misery.
---------------------
The End of the Path
The end of the path,
The spirit near,
Mind subdued,
Shunning all fear.
---------------------
Masha, Masha!
Masha, Masha, joy divine!
For two, dear Mashunya toils and shines.
By morning, off to work she goes,
By night, she serves those she knows.
---------------------
The Minefield of False Life
"To live one’s life is not to stroll across a field."
— Proverb
A walk through a minefield—explosions all ’round,
Fools curse their fate with a cowardly sound.
They whine about dangers, their skins are so dear,
Yet live without courage—enslaved by their fear.
Deception and terror are packed in each mine,
The sappers are bribed, they will fall into line.
Fear makes you a beast, to the darkness you kneel,
And carry its judgment with zeal.
Deceived by the foe, you will turn on your own,
Destroying your soul as you march to their throne.
A lamb to the slaughter, you’ll run to their cage—
Your heart traded in for a wage.
The way out? Exploding each mine as you go,
To be your true self, not a beast they control.
Let liars keep lying—you laugh in their face,
And walk on with fearless embrace!
---------------------
The Furry Ones
Winnie’s off to hunt for honey,
Nothing stops him on the way.
Rivers crossed and hills made runny,
God is "with the folks"—they say.
Rabbits dig their holes—how funny,
Let the bear enjoy his prey.
Sawdust packed inside his noggin,
Honey makes it smooth and light.
Once he rests—he starts the slogging,
Shouting loud with all his might.
Neighbors cringe but keep on nodding,
Not admitting wrong from right.
---------------------
The Spread of Chaos
Rarely does a lie strike true,
The aim is fire across the view.
And later, all will drown in grime—
That’s how they spread the endless crime.
---------------------
"Профессионализм" как заговор против непосвящённых
Бритва Оккама — софта созданье:
Ныне и близко те не лежат.
Слово поэта и бормотанье,
Что производит скаредный гад,
Так же разнятся. Всюду распад...
---------------------
Воспитанье обезьяны:
Все сомнения — изъяны,
Мы ведь в лучшем из миров.
Приговор семьи суров —
Наломаешь эдак дров.
Подчиняйся — будешь сытым;
Чушь, что что-то тем убито —
Ты лишь тело, а не дух;
Налови маманьке мух!..
Вариант первой строки. "Дрессировка обезьяны:"
---------------------
Пропагандоны, или Кочегары Ада
В Ад добавить пламя —
Всем впендюрить Лжи,
Написав на знамя
Чушь иль Миражи.
---------------------
Всемирная Тюрьма
Смеяться над собой,
Смеяться над другими,
Над глупою судьбой,
ТвАримою Иными,
Как пленник, что в тюрьме,
Смеётся над соседом.
Весь мир в Большом Дерьме
И болен тяжким бредом.
Тюрьма, Большой Загон —
Как хочешь, назови ты
Сей мир. Дух гонят вон,
Все наши карты биты.
Иные — нелюдь, зла,
И властвует веками.
"Идеи" нам внесла,
Ведь править дураками
Одним насильем чушь —
Пусть верят и пускают
Друг дружке кровь, Сонм Душ
Тем самым убивают.
---------------------
Взаимопомощь
"Помощь — препятствие для существующего или возможного зла".
Платон.
Взаимопомощь, где ты —
Широкого масштаба?!
Засилье Лжи и Бреда,
Всё время давит жаба
За деньги и способности,
Различные "успехи".
Для ТВАРЕЙ, в адской злобности,
Мы чурки для потехи.
---------------------
Мертвяки
"Люди растрачивают всю свою жизнь, чтобы достать то, что им будто бы нужно для жизни".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.
Жизнь уходит — всюду гонка!
Грань падения столь т`онка,
Что ты даже не заметишь,
Как при жизни смерть ты встретишь.
Мертвяками полон мир —
Накопление кумир.
Единицы не сдаются —
О скалу толпы убьются...
---------------------
Шкурность
"Человек духовный и возвышенный понимает, что хорошо; человек низкий понимает, что выгодно".
Конфуций.
Мир, где выгода главнейшим,
А в понятьи "хорошо"
Много шкурности. В дальнейшем
Будет хуже: заглушён
Голос Духа, ум в загоне —
Деградация во всём.
В страхе, алчности, лжи тонем,
И ничто нас не спасёт.
---------------------
Твердь пошлости
Поэту
Наградой смерть,
Отрадой — твердь
Разжижена хотя б в себе.
Она незыблема в жлобе.
---------------------
Дешевле шмотки и устройства
И примитивней человек.
Дороже Честь и беспокойство,
Что мир живёт последний век.
---------------------
The Building of Communism
"Make ploughshares out of every sword!" —
The fiends cried out to every fool.
Then from those ploughs rose no accord —
Just vanished lives and ruthless rule.
---------------------
No More Thoughts
When there’s no more thought to ponder,
Only REACTIONS rise in you,
Put on your coat, your gear, and wander,
And heed the trumpet’s call anew.
"Enemies" will soon be found,
The more the fools, the better still.
Once they hid in holes, "unbound"—
Now in trenches, slaves they fill.
---------------------
The Distant Journey
The plague of words
From traitor swine
Calls the fools
To the Land of Lies, malign.
Now the guide is just a pawn,
Sent by the beasts—lost and gone.
---------------------
Darkness is gunpowder,
Lies are the fuse.
Tolerate Moloch? —
You’ve got nothing to lose!..
---------------------
The Beastly Mantra
"What can I do?!" — the mantra calls,
A chant from beasts behind their walls.
The inhumans, clever, play their part,
Replacing chains with lies at heart.
Together, they’ll spread falsehood wide,
And with our song, the truth will hide.
Our anthem’s done, the crowd’s insane —
By the majority, we’re bound in chains.
---------------------
Burrows
Arguments over food and space,
In the real world, we find our place.
But on the cover, looking grand —
A city rises, far from sand.
---------------------
The Goose World
— Gadget! Gadget!
— Ga-ga-ga!
— Will it tell you lies?
— Yes-yes-yes!
— You can't fly with it, you see!
— Food, distraction, beasts — that's key,
And no need for Heights, just glee!
---------------------
Ice for Bruises
Running like snow that blankets ground,
It hides the wounds that still are bound
In hearts, offering a cooling touch —
Only to cold, the wounds clutch.
---------------------
Worship of the Horned One
Our Masha cries so loud and clear—
They lied to her about good cheer.
Treachery’s the key to rise,
For the horned one rules the skies.
Hush now, Masha, don’t you weep,
You’ll earn your bread, your gold to keep.
And serve him well, the one you bow—
Just bend and break beneath him now.
---------------------
Mindless Rot
The fools have made themselves at home,
And called their cesspit "parliament."
No brains — just guts and empty foam,
Their “laws” make zero, dumbfound sense.
They chant and chew, no thoughts to share —
Just mouths to feed and slogans loud.
Yet media dreams fill the air:
"Joy for all! No pain allowed!"
---------------------
So-Called “Russophobia,” or The Instinct of Self-Preservation
“Russophobia” — they claim —
Is just blind hate, without a cause.
But it’s defense from spreading shame,
From cargo-darkness, war, and laws.
They say it “lights up minds” with fire —
But does it light… or just incinerate?
A “Russophobe” is no denier —
Just keen to seal no fascist fate.
---------------------
Tuned to Nonsense
Tuning your ears to nonsense clear,
Tripling your gut’s instinctual fear,
Reworking all your critical mind,
You’ll find the Judas in the heroic kind.
Easiest of all—Pav Morozov,
From others, vile threats often shove:
"Sort the Pantheon—take your claim,
Place them all where none’s the same."
---------------------
The scaffold doesn't trust your tears...
Indifference, fear, and endless lies,
Submission, death, and fading skies.
If born upon the scaffold’s rise,
Forget the cries, the weak disguise.
Make fury the salt of your life,
And battle all the World’s great strife.
At last, with blood, your mark inscribe —
A signature: you won’t be snuffed alive.
---------------------
The zombie-box will always win
Against the fridge — it works within.
It feeds with visions of delight,
And fattens herds without a fight.
They swell with pride and happy cheers
For “righteous paths” and hollow years.
Such are the traits, so plain to see,
Of modern propaganda — baaa from me!
---------------------
Stuck Minds and Years of Running
A wedge won’t clear the mind's decay,
It only makes it worse each day.
Therapy won’t help the pain —
The shrinks are dull, it’s all in vain:
It’s not about health, but wealth,
Their aim’s to line their pockets stealth.
Running helps — though not always right —
You’ll need to run for years, not night.
---------------------
A quarter of the songs are sung,
The "choir’s line" is tightly strung.
Strangers can’t break through the sound —
Many fall, lost and unwound.
The "choir" here — propaganda’s crew,
A separate gang, with aims askew.
What’s unsung? It doesn’t fit —
The beastly goals, they won’t admit.
---------------------
Burn! And burn without a trace—
That’s what became of many "grace."
All that's left is the stench of lies,
A filthy soul that never dies.
---------------------
Every century, every season,
Fools increase — and lose all reason.
No tomorrow, no clear way —
Just mad minds that go astray.
---------------------
God could not restrain the UGLY —
Now it's us who face the struggle.
Strength is fading, hope is thin,
And the minds grow dark within.
---------------------
In forest depths, where lies have strayed,
And weary from the chaos made,
Rest now — it’s far, far better still
Than thrashing 'midst the filth and ill.
---------------------
Our Masha cries out loud and clear:
"What will we leave for those who’re near?
Decay, deceit, and endless fears...
Shall we call our hospitals ‘Gears’?"
---------------------
Our Masha cries out loud and long,
For as we go, it all goes wrong —
The fascist state grows more insane,
And women die, the blood, the pain.
Why bear a child in hell’s own name?
Men have degenerated, lost their aim.
No future left, no way to save —
Just standing at the edge, the grave.
---------------------
The minds have lost their way, it seems,
And books of wisdom fade from dreams.
A wedge won't cure what’s torn apart —
Few books remain to heal the heart.
---------------------
The price of junk keeps climbing higher —
The world’s become a global mart.
While Conscience fades, its voice grows dire —
Cash is the god in every heart.
---------------------
They cure all lack of cash with money,
And sickness too — it isn’t funny.
Soon minds will get their safeguards done
With crypto sums in banks — well spun.
---------------------
They’re clearing out old myths and notions,
Like forests burned for cultured seeds —
The Devil’s lab-grown dark devotions,
Designed to serve his hidden needs.
And soon, not only food is tainted —
The mind itself is modified.
A “brave new world” will be acquainted
With thought suppressed, and Evil — dignified.
---------------------
Выход из дуальности
Дуальность общества дебилов:
Ты для толпы иль для тебя
Все люди средство. Точит силы
Такой подход, твой дух губя.
Толпе не нужен ты реальный,
А лишь шаблон "такой как все",
А так как мир сплошь инфернальный,
"Как все" — лишь белкой в колесе.
Коль дурни средство, станешь монстром,
Всегда идя по головам.
Быть в одиночестве не просто,
Но ранит сердце Злой Бедлам
При этом меньше. Вот такие
Расклады в гадостном мирке.
И перспективы никакие —
Кирдык уже невдалеке.
---------------------
"Реальность" — мифов столкновенье:
Толпа "идеями" "сильна".
Когда одно столпотворенье
Натравят на другое, то война
Словами или горячее
Не прекращается. Тварье
Стравить придурков так умеет
Через тотальное враньё,
Что правит ими безраздельно —
Всё разделение в "умах".
Сопротивленье мягкотельно —
И "наше дело" полный швах.
---------------------
Путешествие, чтобы развеяться
"Весёлые люди делают больше глупостей, чем грустные, но грустные делают большие глупости".
Жан де Лабрюйер, XVII-ый век.
"Отец народов" грустен был —
Чрез Беломорканал поплыл,
Сперва отрыв его костями,
Заполнив кровью. Новостями
Был возвеличен подвиг тот —
Глотает мерзость всю "народ".
Канальчик был хоть неглубок,
Зато построен зеком в срок.
Морское судно не пройдёт,
Но вождь до моря доплывёт.
---------------------
ЗаконотвАрение
"Законодательство должно быть голосом разума, а судья — голосом закона".
Пифагор, VI-ой век до н.э.
Разум в клетке, а "закон" —
Чтобы клетку охранять.
Джадж — продажный мудозвон;
На "закон" ему начхать.
Кто же пишет Зла паскв`иль?
Не "парламент" — "ах! и во!"
Роль его. В нём в`идны стиль
Геноцида, торжество
От толпы сокрытых гнид,
Что на тыкве всех "властей".
Показал Их Власть говнид —
Воплощеньем Зла затей
Занят каждый п-резидент
И "парламенты" всех "стран"
Под прикрытием "идей" —
Верит Чуши Тьмы баран.
Джадж (judge — англ.) — судья.
---------------------
Метод фрагментирования лженауки
"Создатели любой науки обращают бессилие своей науки в клевету против природы".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.
Когда разбито на фрагменты,
Не много силы соберёшь.
Но проведём эксперименты,
В которым всем "докажем" ложь
Того, что, в целом, познаваем
Такими способами мир.
Чем дальше, больше забываем
Единство Сущего. Кумир
Теперь вучёный, ведь он может
Нам ширпотребы создавать.
Что то Природу уничтожит,
Жующим, в общем-то, плевать.
---------------------
The Miracle Cure
A cure for weariness — to run,
Start young, and soon you'll find success.
The prize you’ll win will weigh as one—
Good health, the key to happiness.
All else is fluff, so let it slide,
Except for Art, the soul’s true quest.
With strength like ox, and will as guide,
Your labor turns to purest zest.
---------------------
The "Feast" at the Nursery
At the nursery, in tanks they play,
"Planes" are flying, children say.
In their youth, they're scarred and torn,
It’s time to end the hate reborn.
---------------------
Materialist Mock-Culture
Fake culture’s depth? It’s all about
The cash, the skin, the shallow clout.
With lies of "care" for flesh and face,
It leads the fools in Evil’s race.
False faiths preach false "spiritual light"
To prop up madness day and night.
This fake culture is a chain
Built to keep us all insane.
Spirit leads — and mind should follow:
That is culture, deep, not hollow.
But if that truth breaks the charm,
The BEAST will lose its grip and harm.
You can't control a soul that's free —
Only herds yield easily.
Though it’s hard to break the trance
(It's ruled for ages, not by chance),
Fall within. The truth lies there —
Not in noise or outer glare.
There you'll find a spark to guide:
Light and Beauty, deep inside.
---------------------
Satan’s Kitchen
"He who does not resist evil is consumed by it and becomes possessed."
—Ivan Ilyin
Possession’s spread is everywhere:
Resist not evil — it will bake you.
Like dough, you’re shaped with subtle care,
Then to the Devil’s oven take you.
Outside, you’re sweet — a gingerbread,
But inside — poison fills your core.
Your soul is sold, your reason's dead,
You’re just a puppet, nothing more.
The goal? To eat you. Tear and bite.
And as you burn in false delight,
Your loosh pours out — a cursed perfume,
And souls dissolve in silent gloom.
---------------------
Living the Sweet Life!
"Sweet like chocolate!" — join the show,
Frontline traitors steal the glow.
Write for media? You’ll rise—
As a top-tier king of lies.
Crack the zombie-box, you’re crowned—
To the mindless, deep and sound,
God and ruler, bold and brash,
Super-creep in monster-trash.
If you can’t — then be a clerk,
Lower grade, but still can work.
No more lazing, here’s your fate:
"Fetch!" — the BEAST commands with hate.
Still, you’ll steal without much stress,
Just enough for full success.
Then explain with calm aplomb
Why it’s grand to be a swine
In a world so dumb, decayed,
If you love that sweet charade.
And devoured, one by one,
By the horde — the Parade of Scum.
---------------------
;The Path to Light
A turtle dreamt of running fast,
To win a marathon at last.
Much like some fool who talks all day
Of chasing Light to flee decay.
He claims he's left the dark behind,
With "purity" to fill his mind,
While in the chaos of the lame,
Decay's the law, and truth's a game.
He waits for some elusive breath —
The third one, standing on the second.
But rot still spreads, as sure as death —
A madhouse world, so grimly beckoned.
---------------------
Right on target!
Games. "Tigers" on the screen,
In a moment, blood's unseen.
Virtual wars, a cruel descent:
The goal — to crush the mind’s intent.
---------------------
How to Be a Poet
If you rise before the sun,
Turn your soul where shadows run,
Grab a pen and let it flow —
You're a poet, now you know.
Add some rhythm, keep it tight,
Make sure rhymes still sound just right,
Squeeze in meaning, feeling too,
And don’t echo what you do.
---------------------
;No Future Ahead
"The last shall be the first!" — they say,
The "Internationale" dream.
But those who rot their souls away
Will never rise — despite the theme.
One isn’t blind who’s poor and tired,
But he who eats and sleeps on time,
Yet bends to thugs as self-required
And buys into collective crime.
The world is ruled by ghostly lies —
A thousand myths, all thin and hollow.
That "specter" once with glowing eyes,
Called communism, we did follow.
It was a dream — just one of many,
And more will come, the weak to sway.
The mob sells out for next day's penny...
That’s why we’re lost. We’ve lost our way.
---------------------
The End of Nostalgia
It’s timely now — the final slide
To real Hell, the gaping maw,
Where fascist filth no more can hide —
The spawn of Hell will meet its law.
They’ll vanish with their wicked kin,
Who cheered decay and praised the fall,
Dragged the world through rot and sin
Down past the depths — near furnace wall.
---------------------
;Ignorance as the Fate of the World
"There’ll always be some Eskimos who teach the Papuans how to cope with heat."
Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec.
I went to school — a fool among fools —
They told me how I ought to live.
The madhouse chiefs, the traitor-rules,
Taught love of homeland — false and stiff.
They showed the way. No real example —
Just thunderous speeches, empty pride.
And I, a youth, too small to trample,
Stood still as lies screamed far and wide.
So I shall die — not quite a native,
A step from ignorance, half-bred.
But no one minds. The chains are sacred
If silence keeps your conscience dead.
---------------------
;Down the Slope of Daily Dread
So your life went off the rails...
Once you thought you’d reached the top?
Now it’s mourning, veils on veils —
For the Mind. A fool won’t stop
To reflect — this fight for "bliss"
Never ends, it drags us down.
Only few through storms like this
Stumble toward a distant crown,
Toward a flicker faint and kindled
Through the shards of warped belief,
But the mirrors — cracked and swindled —
Steal the souls in silent grief.
In Forgetfulness the nation
Dwells, as scoundrels tear apart
Mind and Spirit — desecration
Leaves but few with subtle heart.
Hell is here — the world beneath it
Takes its form and bears its name.
Sunlight fades — we barely breathe it,
Years slip into fatal flame.
Soon comes Exodus. Most hurry
Toward a new infernal shore,
Born of fear, betrayal, worry —
Twisted lies and nothing more.
---------------------
"A Residence Permit in the Sky"
Strive for a place up high,
“How?”—by rejecting the filth
That taints the world with lies.
Though a chance exists, in this life,
To live as a pauper, you see,
Dwelling in a latrine's strife
Means living with “high society.”
---------------------
Double Shot
A burst of fear
And lies is fired.
The fool stands near —
Alone, inspired.
A hit — dead on!
"March forth!" the horde.
How low we've gone —
Scum crowns the sword.
---------------------
The Training of a Monkey with a Grenade
Frol's school turns the child to ape,
With fingers clenched in a cruel shape.
Without the grenade, the vile new trend —
Neo-fascism's easy to bend.
---------------------
Amid the Metal Screams
There’s pain and constant nausea,
From nonsense, lies, and boredom.
A “paradise” of torment —
Or just pure Hell in sordid form?
To bow to filth and suffer?
Then you become a spineless cur.
Corrupted freaks abound,
Mad traitors all around.
They form the herd, the horde —
So fight, or be ignored.
Or they will crush what's left
Of Spirit, Mind, and Honor —
In this world of twisted theft,
Where rust and madness wander.
---------------------
Art Under Control
Art’s controlled not by direction—
Only cash can call the shots.
Foam and rot, in each reflection—
Rotten feelings, twisted plots.
Money’s made for domination,
Not for joy, but to corrode—
Tools of planned degeneration,
Plain to see the way we go’d.
CowID showed the scheme completely.
Where is art? Where is dissent—
That, in protest cloaked discreetly,
Kills the madness, not relents?
Only few, as always, dared to
Speak the truth and break the trance.
Art, it seems, is just a phantom,
In real life—it leads the dance
Of a hydra, evil-driven.
Not by force, but coin instead
Does the beast, in shadows hidden,
Rule the stage. And you’re misled—
Blind to see it, dumb and sleeping,
If you think it's all a game.
Once you spot what lies it's keeping,
You won’t look at it the same.
---------------------
So-Called “Art”
Creeps in service, gladly selling—
Trained for trade and empty yelling.
Slavery’s engraved inside,
Tiny minds just run and hide.
Squeak a bit — they’ll toss you meat,
Just enough to call it "treat."
This is “art” today, no less:
Filthy lies in fancy dress.
---------------------
The Cesspool
Folly reigns where honor’s gone,
And knowledge now is twisted lies.
Consumed by need, enslaved by wrong—
The mark of genocide still lies.
The traitor climbs—the cesspool hums,
Not the biggest chunk, but still it’s clear:
The “worthy” rot, as darkness drums,
They wait for higher ranks to cheer.
While down below, the other kind
Refuse the filth that’s piled so high,
The bold ones face a bitter grind—
For defiance leads to jail or die.
Only few remain who dare to fight,
Their time is short, their future bleak,
In the cesspool — isolated might,
Unable to unite or speak.
Each must endure the painful test—
But lessons learned are lost in vain.
It’s time to end this poisoned mess,
And burn the cesspool’s dark domain.
---------------------
Kids in Cages — That’s Called School
Into the world they march — as tools,
Turning all to empty stages.
But truth be told… their dads were fools.
---------------------
Pashka, Mashka, Sashka, Dashka,
Your lives are always off the mark,
If you believe the propaganda,
You’ll fall for Lucifer’s band dark.
---------------------
The gadget poisons kids’ minds —
Books are forgotten, left behind.
No paper’s touch, no scent, no sight,
Just screens that blind them day and night.
---------------------
The ghost of communism
Wandered, then disappeared.
The demon of nihilism
Has now appeared, reared.
---------------------
— The herd demands both bread and shows.
— No, it's the people, you're speaking prose.
— If muzzles fit, then don't you see,
The pen’s the goal, we not be free.
---------------------
Безумные рабы
Кондовые законы рабства:
Вталдычь рабу, что господин
Он сам _себе; что нет тиранства —
Всё подчиняется _судьбе.
Чтоб так — послушливый кретин
Стандартом должен быть, в том школа
Тьме помогает, исказив
Картину мира. По-приколу
Безумный раб, что незлобив.
Раб, знающий что мир как клетка,
Активный, злой, — опасен Тьме.
А потому послушай, детка:
Ты в шоколаде — не в Дерьме.
---------------------
Ложь советского режима:
Проживаем мы счастливо!
До сих пор то вспоминают —
За копейки покупают
Плюшки, хлеб и молоко
В мыслях. Въелась глубоко!
---------------------
Новое народничество, фантазия
Исследователь _Днища
Опять в "народ" пошёл.
Нашёл одно вонище —
Вновь терпят произвол.
Названия меняют,
Но оставляют суть.
Свободой называют
Безумие и жуть
Сегодня. Снова верят
И ищут "счастье" там,
Где дух и разум херят,
В подобие скотам
Народец превращая.
Пример — говнид, война.
Вновь что-то обещают,
Чтя легковерность дна.
История народца —
Пробитье дна. Опять
"За новое бороться!" —
Лбом _Это пробивать.
---------------------
Идеалы деградации
"Даже когда народ пятится, он пятится за идеалом — и верит в некое "вперёд".
Фридрих Ницше.
Идеалы деградации
Нам подкидывает Мрак.
Дни говнида — кульминация.
Дальше будет больше врак:
С чушью мерзкою построят
Новый Лагерь — цифровой.
Быдло снова всё устроит —
Сгнило быдло головой.
---------------------
Единое управление всемирной елиткой
"Никогда не выживет тот народ, который воспринимает трактовку своей истории глазами соседа".
Фридрих Ницше.
Не сосед даёт трактовку —
Оным правит ТА ЖЕ мразь.
Производит мразь вербовку
Всей елитки, так что казнь,
Что оттянута по срокам,
Ждёт весь мир. То показал
Говно"вирус". Лжи потоки —
Центр единый. СМРАДов шквал
Управляет миром, школы
Под контролем упырей.
Будет больше произвола
На исходе мира дней.
Подытожат Катаклизмом
Всю историю Земли —
За терпение фашизма
И повадки мерзкой тли.
---------------------
Миф свободы
"Как могут узнать свободу те, кто ее никогда не знал? Они могут заподозрить еще одну маску тирана".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Свобода только в пропаганде
И промывании мозгов
Убогой школой. Служат банде
Тварья чрез наложение оков
В "умы" под****ки лицедеев,
Которым ныне счёту нет,
Ведь Твари `издревле умеют
Внедрять в мирок тлетворный бред.
---------------------
Чуйка
"Атеизм — порок некоторых умных людей, суеверие — порок глупцов".
Вольтер.
Золотая середина?
Лженаука и попы
Превращают нас в кретинов
И рабов лихой судьбы.
Чушь без Духа, Мрака догмы —
Сатанизм сокрыт во лжи.
Познавать без них попробуй,
Удаляя миражи
Из сознания. Лишь Чуйка
В том поможет, ведь она
Вне "поверь иль обоснуй-ка" —
Путь на Свет из мрака Дна.
---------------------
Цепь управления миром
Нелюдь вербует елитку —
Деньги в ходу, компромат.
Власти лишь для, не прибытку.
Средним звеном Злу послушливый гад
Стал во всём мире. А высшим —
Помесь тварья и людей.
Голос протеста всё тише —
Власть полоумных чертей.
---------------------
"Прогресс" в геноциде
"Если кричат: "Да здравствует прогресс!", всегда справляйся: "Прогресс чего?"
Станислав Ежи Лец.
Провал убытья Духа виден,
Ума вдобавок, потому
Печальный вывод очевиден:
Мы служим скрытому тому,
Кто управляет глупым миром,
Сперва в нём лучшее поправ.
Он стал сокрытым с глаз вампиром,
Сося все силы, свой устав
Распространив на Землю всю.
Прогресс ублюдков факт — зри "Зю"!
Но сунь смартфоны дебилью —
И дальше геноцидь вовсю...
---------------------
Время Урожая Тьмы
Мир есть помесь лжи и страхов.
Страхи множатся враньём.
Ты находишься на плахе,
Если вместе с тем гнильём,
Что народом величают.
Будь в сторонке, одинок,
По одёжке коль встречают,
Провожают же в острог,
Если честен, также умный, —
Нечего искать в толпе.
Мир, коль в целом, полоумный —
В нём подонок на рабе
Едет, ложью помыкая.
Тот подонок сам есть раб.
Ныне Время Урожая —
Ум в загоне, Дух ослаб.
---------------------
Памяти Станислава Ежи Леца
Станислав нежиЛец
Зрит мир. Ему ****ец —
Похабному мирку,
Награде дураку.
---------------------
Substitute Line
A hollow verse, a foolish rhyme —
Come on, you clown, it’s your time!
Go ahead, oppress the weak,
Make your mockery complete.
---------------------
How Many Fools?
How many fools must fall to end
This war, this endless, bloody trend?
So many more — for Russia’s reached
The depths, where all the souls are breached.
---------------------
;The Straight Path
When minds are scarce — a common trait —
They offer up a "straight" way through.
And fools line up — they take the bait,
Not seeing where that road will skew.
The end is wrapped in Fog and Fiction —
They march ahead in tidy rows.
And once they reach the grim affliction,
They toss in fresh confusing shows.
They’ll call the horror "just a glitch"
And chart the "straight path" out once more.
The lies don’t change — not even switch —
But fools still flock, their minds unsure.
---------------------
Executioners of Mind
"Steal the Volga — send it West!"
That earned ten years without protest.
The nation’s best were crushed and maimed,
While mass delusion was proclaimed.
And now — the same. Just change the dress:
CowID made it clear — no less.
The ghouls remain, their aims aligned:
For centuries — a war on Mind.
---------------------
The Dignified Frog
A frog leapt in a pot — quite grand —
With water cold (at least for now).
She sought out joy, a promised land —
But got the madhouse life allows.
They boil her slow, with lies and steam,
Just turning up the heat each day.
She hopped in proud — lost in a dream,
Till truth — and reason — slipped away.
---------------------
Doom
Doom’s drawing near — no way to stall.
The crowd still stumbles through the Night.
Just few attempt, if so at all,
To keep their sanity in sight.
The mind is under fierce attack —
This age, the final, seals our fate:
Fear, filth and lies — a rising stack —
And man dissolves beneath their weight.
A puppet takes the human’s place —
CowID made that crystal-clear.
"Great changes" wait for every face:
Shame masked as kindness, pride as fear.
In rabid haste, the beasts parade —
They crave to strike before the Flame
Consumes this world, so wrongly made,
In Fascism’s all-consuming name.
---------------------
The Writer’s Absurdity
In the madhouse of deceit,
Publishers reign, with endless feet,
Of sheepish novels scattered wide,
Where truth and sense are cast aside.
---------------------
;"Once Upon a Time," or What They'll Remember About Us...
"We lived," but never were —
To Hell we sailed, in lies a blur.
Conquered fears that drowned the light —
Worse than death, these endless nights...
---------------------
;Foolish, Futile Hopes
“Hope is the dream of the waking.”
— Plato
Dream breaks through the fog of Lies,
That people proudly call their "mind."
It’s hard to shout a clear "deny!"
When truth is something none can find.
Dream, Lie, and Madness — hand in hand —
Have wrapped the world in shadow’s dome.
And if you're Tender, you must stand
Alone — serve Soul, not Mind — and roam.
---------------------
Instant Nonlocal Ties
There are ties beyond all measure —
Instant, distant — Nature’s thread.
But the scum, in blind displeasure,
Chop what never should be shred.
They defile what is united,
Chasing joy in soulless ways.
With wild howls, the press, excited,
Drives them straight into the blaze.
Yet the End comes — fast, revealing,
Truth breaks through the howls of lies.
Few stay honest — more appealing
To the world where spirit flies.
And the rest? To Hell they’re driven,
Not the old one, dressed in myths —
But a fresh one, newly given
For the fools with hollow "ifs."
---------------------
;Kaleidoscope
A little is enough for thought —
A kaleidoscope of books, of plot.
But oft it serves to pull away —
It fills the heart with empty sway.
---------------------
Lawless by Design
"Who told you that there are laws to which our behavior must conform?"
— Arthur Schopenhauer
The BEASTS are drafting laws again,
The masses nod, applaud, comply.
They’re chains disguised as rules for men —
Decay is what they justify.
Obeying BEASTS — the only creed
That now defines what life should be.
But is it life, this sham, this screed,
Where thought is tossed in lunacy?
Their minds are loops of prefab clips,
No spark, no soul, no conscious thread —
Thus drunks and psychos, full eclipse,
Become the norm, just as they’re bred.
That’s what the BEASTS have always sought —
A world of rats in legal snare,
Where laws mean: "Crawl!", and truth is naught,
And lying’s breathed like common air.
---------------------
Mock-Haiku
A slug crawls slowly to the height...
Yeah right — that slug won’t make it far.
It’ll find a "reason," sure —
The slimy herd knows why they are.
Don’t be a slug — forget the mold!
Don't creep — just fly, ignore the rules!
The slime will call your flight too bold.
Don't trust the slick — fly past the fools!
---------------------
;April First
A day for all the Earth,
Where nonsense fills the air,
And like a blight of mirth,
Man falls in dark despair.
Transformed by foolish schemes,
To slaves, they’re made to bend.
And all are caught in dreams,
Where devils find their end.
---------------------
The Futility of Effort
The fruitlessness of all we try,
To pass through lies that twist and vie,
In tortures built of deceit and pain,
We struggle on, but all in vain.
---------------------
Creation
Boredom’s bitch won’t ever find you
If your craft and fire bind you
In this world of rot and madness.
Else you’ll drown in lies and sadness.
Lies are rampant, wild, insane.
But if art is clear and plain,
It can clear the mind and senses —
Laziness just dulls defenses.
Strain is needed — real, not hollow,
When your questions you must follow.
There’s no other way — delusion
Rules the world in full profusion.
Earth is racing to the brink,
Not much time is left to think.
Make your mark — ignore the glory,
Even if no reads your story.
They won’t notice, they won’t care —
But so what? It’s in the air.
That cliff is near. The end is tight.
Create — while you still have the right.
---------------------
The Poet’s Futility
The poet's work — a fruitless fight,
In fear and madness, lost in spite,
Of lies, of greed, of all we’ve lost —
A world consumed, no matter cost.
---------------------
The Pendulum
The pendulum is broken now —
The rhythm fades, no steady flow.
Maybe I’ve just run dry somehow —
A hack, a scribbler — don't you know?
---------------------
Negative Selection
Selection now goes in reverse —
A law that Darwin never knew.
The liar thrives, the thief does worse —
He climbs, while noble men are few.
The wise, the just — they're cast below,
Their strength of spirit left to rot.
No chance to let that power grow —
The scum selects a lesser lot.
A newer breed is rising fast —
Of servile souls, with vacant eyes.
They dress up lies in modern masks,
Call chains "free choice," and truth — "disguise."
The final shame — a bright facade
Of "freedom" in a wired disguise.
This path's a sentence, cold and odd —
And once it grips, no one will rise.
---------------------
The Horror of Swinish Ways
Torments of passion?
Reject the obsession!
All’s twisted and hollow —
No truth left to follow.
Your Spirit’s a rover —
No home to take over.
So seek in that fire
A higher desire.
Let Mind serve the Soul —
One self, whole and whole.
That’s oneness — the key.
All else is swinery.
---------------------
The First Rainy Season in Moldova
Rainy season —
A subtropical place...
Pour it down,
Let chaos fill the space.
---------------------
Hear! I Crave Wonders and Spectacles
Bored to rot in cracks and holes,
It's rashism that takes its toll —
A wonder of madness, dull and cold.
---------------------
"Inflexibility" in Personal Ties
And patience with the rules of Night —
Blind to all the vulgar lies,
The nature of a goat "in flight".
---------------------
It Doesn't Matter How Many Foes
For paper tigers, fierce they show,
But in this world of fools and lies,
Their roar is hollow, their strength dies.
---------------------
Social Realism — A Crude Shift
A super-concentration of mind,
Not for fascist-communist drift,
But to drag the "minds" to the grind.
---------------------
;"The law is harsh, but just indeed"
It traps the fools, and makes them bleed.
For clever, sly, and cunning fish —
This is the world's inevitable wish.
---------------------
"You boast of a pure past, you swine?
Once a virgin, now a whore in line..."
Politicians always stand apart,
But they're tainted from the very start,
With dirt and lies they’ve carried long —
A mark of filth, a tale of wrong.
---------------------
Всемирный концлагерь и конец долготерпению Природы
Говнид —> война —> "ИИ" —> Концлагерь.
И будет голод между тем.
Был красный крест на белом флаге —
Капитуляция систем.
Системы — псевдо-государства.
Всемирный Лагерь как итог
Долготерпения тиранства,
Где Геноцид сокрытый бог.
Но подытожат Катаклизмом
Усилья нелюди стереть
Пречистый Дух тупым фашизмом —>
И станет Возрожденьем смерть.
То для немногих — единицам,
Что сохранили Дух и Честь,
Не торопясь пред Злом склониться,
На Разум променявши спесь.
Спесь дураков — она повсюду.
Помножь на ложь и Забытьё =>
И поведут в Тюрьму паскуды —>
Но снова стерпит всё дурьё...
Долготерпение Природы
Отлично от всех тщет терпил.
Прощайте, скользкие уроды!
Прощай, послушливый дебил!..
---------------------
Народ безмолвствует опять —
Так будем снова нагло врать,
Ад побезумнее устроив,
Умишки чушью перекр`оив!..
---------------------
Дурдом размером в страну
"Васюки" отстроим снова,
Множа в черепках оковы.
Бесконечное "строительство",
Вдаль ведущее правительство —
Лучше, чем "наполеоном"
Быть в палате с дурней стоном.
---------------------
Скрытный сатанизм лжерелигий
"В словах "Бог" и "религия" вижу тьму, мрак, цепи и кнут".
Виссарион Белинский.
Белинский умер, строй совковый
Впендюрил веру в "коммунизм".
Сошёл на нет — и всюду снова
"Религий" скрытный сатанизм.
---------------------
Традиционный пошлый мирок
"Сбитый в понятиях, запутанный словами, человек теряет чутье истины, вкус природы. Какую же надобно иметь силу мышления, чтоб заподозрить этот нравственный чад и уже с кружением головы броситься из него на чистый воздух, которым вдобавок стращают все вокруг!"
Александр Герцен.
Родившись в Суетном Бедламе,
Ты погружён в словесный чад.
Вначале веришь папе, маме
И слушать сказки очень рад.
Чем дальше, больше мифов, сказок —
В них лженаука как Перро.
Но постепенно тьма наказов
Там проступает. Правит Зло
Чрез охмурение рассудка —
То часто "нравственным" зовут.
А наполнение желудка
Составит ежедневный труд.
Займут всю жизДнь тем наполненьем,
Попутно нагоняя СМРАД.
И не заметишь — разложенье
Настигло Душу: пошлый гад,
Что чужд Исканий, интуиции,
Пред глупым миром предстаёт.
Вот для чего нужны "традиции" —
Чрез них Тьма формирует сброд.
СМРАД - средства массовой рекламы, агитации, дезинформации.
---------------------
Заразность лжи
"Болезнь одна лишь заразительна, здоровье не заразительно; то же самое с заблуждением и истиной. Вот почему заблуждения распространяются быстро, а истина так медленно".
Пётр Чаадаев.
Говнид нам показал, как чушью
Легко объять безумный мир.
Лишь интуицию ты слушай —
Заполонила Тьма эфир.
Лже-вирус хлынул пландемией —
Вот настоящая болезнь.
Сжимает сердце ишемия
При виде Зла. В толпу не лезь —
В ней заблуждения болезнью
Хронической. Как Петя прав!
Несущий Правду бесполезней
Здесь с каждым днём — сплошь Зла устав.
И тот устав — закон единый:
Все п-резиденты под говнид
Прогнулись дружно, а кретины
Зашлись в истерике. Убит
В толпе "инстинкт спасенья" —
И стали Ложью убивать:
Достигли Днища Разложенья,
Но чернь: "Дай жрать! На всё начхать!"
---------------------
Назойливый глупец,
За ним стоит подлец,
За подлым в Чуши спец —
Правители... ****ец!
---------------------
Любовь к ближнему, современный вариант
"Прежде люди были ближе друг к другу. Приходилось — оружие-то было только ближнего боя".
Станислав Ежи Лец.
На нож наткнуться — как за благо.
Сегодня хуже — FPV
Почти похерило отвагу,
Ища у ближнего любви.
---------------------
Стать Человеком — вот удача:
Животный мир вокруг тебя.
У Тьмы последняя задача —
Расчеловечить. И "любя",
С "заботой", сделают то падлы —
Пример говнида налицо.
Днесь Ложью бьют; заградотряды
Из кукловодов-подлецов,
Которые лишь от кормушки
Всех нерадивых отстранят.
Какие пушки?! Ныне "плюшки"
Как порох — гад стараться рад!..
Продажных гадов легионы,
А потому обречено
Всё на Земле: Лжи мегатонны
Пробьют очередное Дно.
---------------------
Неделимость Целого
"Целым овладевают по частям".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.
Целое есть Целое:
По частям разбить
(Люди в том умелые),
Значит упустить
Суть Природы. Этим
Занята толпа
С лженаукой, клетью
Ставшей для раба.
Клеть с засохшим пряником —
Жрачка, ширпотреб.
Сплошь Природа ранена
Валом непотреб,
Тех, что освящает
Лженауки власть.
Ложь => "народ" дичает:
Ниже уж не пасть —
Показал говнидом
Скрытый господин
Лженауки. Стыдно
Верить им. Кретин
Снова верить будет,
Дальше строя Ад.
Катаклизм остудит
Пыл — им шах и мат
Дикости, что разумом
На Земле зовут.
Стали мы проказою
Ей — за то сотрут...
---------------------
;Mood Swings
Mood swings, they're just a trifle,
When your aims are pure and rightful,
Leading you toward the clean,
Work becomes light, calm, serene.
---------------------
The Worms
Worms eat the corpse inside the grave —
That’s "consciousness" in a mind so depraved.
If they are the majority here,
Then beasts will reign, with "none to fear".
---------------------
Two Paths
Not to “joy” — to Truth alone
Keep your path, through storm and stone.
Let the darkness never cease —
You won’t die among the sheep.
For the herd are not quite men,
Few remain of those again.
They will judge and damn your name
If you dodge the Devil’s game.
If you guard your inner flame,
They will curse — but not defame.
You will pass Hell’s slavish crew
If your soul remains in view.
You’ll be lonely — strong in mind,
Even prophecy you’ll find
May arise within your chest,
Once you cast the crowd’s lies out,
Cleanse your thought from all that mess —
Foolish fears, enslaving doubt.
Then the path of slave and pawn
You will curse, and you’ll move on.
Saved by Light that lives within —
Let the Spirit’s law begin.
---------------------
Slowly, Steadily
With small steps, through every strife,
Bypassing all, you live your life,
But as a fool, you won't arrive
At the final point — cross or dive.
If you become a sluggish soul,
You’ll find yourself in death’s control...
---------------------
This and That
This and that — our all in all,
A false messiah will make the call.
No strength left here — it’s done, we’re through,
We lost it all in this and that too.
---------------------
;Variety of Lies
Add a twist to lies, and then
You can once again herd the men.
This old trick’s worn, but still not tough,
To craft some nonsense, long enough.
---------------------
;To the Creator
Foolish minds "up top,"
Give orders to the fool,
No doubts, no thought to stop.
Your art’s not needed,
If your thoughts don’t match the beast,
This has been true, from the very least.
---------------------
To Please Others
To please the crowd —
Respect yourself:
There’s a rift, no doubt,
It’ll be your death,
If before the masses
You bow your head —
Then you’re the hero
Of a fleeting thread.
But greater wins,
When you turn within,
You’ll find, beyond the crowd,
You’ll rise above the din.
---------------------
To Ferment?
Ferment it? Pour the brew —
Don’t drown your troubles, push on through.
Be bold, a bit more sly,
Throw tar in their sweet supply.
---------------------
Steps to "Success"?
Steps to "success"? What a jest,
The world’s a twisted, skewed unrest!
Throw off your armor, drop your cards,
Go within, be Truth’s own guard.
"Success" through lies and falsehood’s game,
If all’s reversed, then take the claim:
The scum are kings, the gods have horns,
And beasts now rule the world, reborn.
---------------------
Goal!!!
Football: pass, then goal —
You’re in the game, full blaze.
But chaos? —
That type of mind just sways.
It doesn't see the Dark —
"Understood!" is all it hears.
For its "mind" —
It’s all just "this" and "fears."
---------------------
Fake Countries
"Countries"
Seem strange:
An idiot
In the majority — they call it "state."
They showed us the muzzle.
In idiocy, the world has crumbled.
---------------------
Barrage of Lies
A barrage of lies breaks through
Tender minds from early youth.
“Bread and circuses!” — the cue
Of a crowd that shuns the truth.
Swearing off the cell and cage,
Yet they live in one, in fact.
Thought is crushed in every age —
Bread is scarce, but filth intact.
Mountains of it, ever near —
Trash disguised as daily norm.
Truth is rare, and drowned in fear,
In deceit’s eternal storm.
Want to live? Then seek and fight,
Find your answers, trust your spark.
Let the Spirit be your light —
Swat all counsel like a lark.
Lies explode with greater might
Than the bombs and shells of war.
Trust them — you will lose your sight,
Rot inside, and be no more.
---------------------
The Porridge
The porridge seems to have softened,
In the "pot," but now it's swollen,
Something’s grown. Such is the crowd —
In myths, they’re saints, or so they’re loud.
---------------------
No Red Lines
No "red lines" in this small world,
When in a fool’s grip, we're twirled.
Slavery’s etched from head to toe,
While the Beast enjoys the show.
---------------------
Bleach
The finest bleach is now in hand,
To paint the world in white demand.
Take up the task, so cold, so bold —
Truth’s too harsh when lies unfold.
In this age of fascist rage,
You must be scum to turn the page.
Better still, a servant’s role —
And rot in sweetness, sold your soul.
---------------------
The Cuckoo
The cuckoo’s gone, it’s found a nest,
Now far away, it builds its rest.
Russia’s rise is hard to see —
As fascism turns all to debris.
---------------------
The Change
No rescue, no salvation,
Only rot in every nation.
What’s left? Just wait for the end,
But not for long — just years to spend.
A total cage has closed around,
New beasts will rise, their minds still bound —
In fear, in filth, in false disguise,
They’ll live beneath the darkened skies.
---------------------
Nonsense
Nonsense won’t become less insane,
When most of them in it remain.
The harm grows greater, day by day,
When masses lead the foolish way.
---------------------
The Misfortune of the Rare Mind
Bank or jar? Do you honor
The stash and stuff it with the leftover?
A digital camp is being made —
They’ll shut the money faucet, delayed.
Where’s salvation? In the tribes —
But fools will never grasp the vibes.
No hope remains, none to come —
Such is the fate of the rare mind, undone...
---------------------
The Supply of Fools
The fools will never run dry,
This war will never cease.
Its goal? To wipe out those who lie,
Who’ve sunk to the deepest peace.
---------------------
Not Life...
Greed, betrayal, twisted thoughts,
Sticky fear that ties and knots:
Not life, but mockery we live,
Not a world — but dust to give.
---------------------
;The Soil of Hopes
The soil for hopes grows poorer,
Day by day, less to adore.
Scraps for judgments harsh and tight,
In "positivity," we rot from sight.
---------------------
"Doctors"
First, assess the patient’s purse —
Then decide what might be done.
Healing’s third — but far less worth
Than a profit nicely won.
Treat a bit — then overtreat,
Till the body's near collapse.
If the gain is small or fleet,
Toss them out — no second lapse.
Clerks in coats, not healers now,
Medicine’s a crimson trade.
Fools still trust them, anyhow,
Those who poison, well-paid.
And they do — CowID made clear
How they lie and twist and grin.
Not true doctors — worms, I fear,
In a swamp of corporate sin.
Lies and business. Not a trace
Left of care or human touch —
Only pain, in every place,
Sold for far, far, far too much.
---------------------
Clarity of Thought
Clear thoughts, a style so sharp and bright —
Is it possible? Yes, all right.
If poetry has struck you deep,
Then in this word war, you’ll leap.
Measure each blow, sort out your themes,
Add some flair, create new dreams.
Want to? Then make some memes,
And smash the scum with verses' beams!
---------------------
Career Ladders of the Global Madhouse
They climb the ladders, dumb and proud —
A “career,” backed by some degree.
While wiser souls just waste aloud
Their strength on dreams — no place to be.
The Madhouse has no room for truth,
No space for honesty or fire.
One path remains — creative youth —
But it won’t sell. It won’t aspire.
The seats are filled with hacks and frauds,
Fanatics, fakes, and kings of kitsch.
They shovel nonsense into gods
Of “taste,” while critics blindly twitch.
True poets? Writers? Lost in tags,
Filtered out by search deceit.
The mad get fame — the rest, in bags,
Are tossed aside, beneath their feet.
A world where failure takes the crown,
Where talent’s smothered, drowned, ignored —
Where garbage rains forever down —
And filth is served as rich reward.
---------------------
The Basis
Wickedness — our firm foundation.
Lies and treachery — our flair.
Cheat, betray — no hesitation.
Truth? Just rot beneath the glare.
Others dream — we call them fools.
Easy prey, we take them down.
Only quarrel o’er the rules
When it's our share that's in frown.
Selfish motives drive us deep —
In them, all our power lies.
Bliss we taste when others weep,
Drunk on spoils and cunning eyes.
Soon the weak will meet their fate —
Like mad spiders, we compete.
We will shape a new-born state
Where the fist decides what’s meat.
Arguments? Just raise a brow —
Simplified, our world will be.
Brute response is all we allow
When our leader barks, “Obey me!”
---------------------
The Ballad of the Rotten World
"Through poisoned words and rotting creeds,
Man loses nature’s ancient breath.
It takes a mighty mind indeed
To smell the lies — and leap from death."
Alexander Herzen
In Bedlam’s womb, you took your breath,
Through choking smog of cursed deceit.
You learned to suckle lies and death,
While fairy tales made bile taste sweet.
The myths grew blacker with the years,
Like fungus blooming in the mind.
The Evil fed upon your fears,
And gnawed your soul with teeth of blind.
They called it "virtue" as they bled you,
While bellies led your every quest.
Your hollow days, the chains that wed you,
Bound body first, and then the rest.
Through rotting tongues, the news deceived,
Through poisoned air, traditions lied.
You smiled while rotting — self-believed,
A corpse that danced before it died.
And so the Darkness wove its brood —
Through sacred words, through flags unfurled.
Through rites of fools and rotten good,
It raised the armies of the world.
Игорь Выхованец, стихи 8001-8500
© Copyright: Игорь Выхованец, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225042701799
Свидетельство о публикации №225042701799
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