Игорь Выхованец, стихи 8501-9000

Игорь Выхованец

Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 8501-9000

Клоака управления

"После тех лиц, которые занимают самые высокие посты, я не знаю более несчастных, чем те, что им завидуют".
Мишель де Монтень, XVI-ый век.

Вступив в Клоаку, ты не сможешь
Веленьям Сердца отвечать,
Безумье также приумножишь,—
В Клоаке Дьявола Печать.

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Заблуждения и беспредел

"У заблуждения нет предела".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.

Нет предела Заблужденью.
Возникает беспредел,
Укрепится коль во мненьи
Чернь, что "вождь" умён и смел.

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"Нравственным законом"
Ставит Тьма препоны —
Только Сердце слушай,
Тем спасая Душу.

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Смещение баланса

"Ты умираешь безвинно", — говорила Сократу жена; он возразил: "А ты бы хотела, чтобы заслуженно?"
Диоген Лаэртский, III-ий век до н.э.

Безвинных смертей стало меньше —
Сместился баланс в Забытьё.
Прослойка разумных всё тоньше:
Мир, в целом, Тупое Гнильё.

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Ходячие шаблоны

"Если бы все мы исповедались друг другу в своих грехах, то посмеялись бы над тем, сколь мало у нас выдумки. Если бы все мы раскрыли свои добродетели, то посмеялись бы над тем же".
Халиль Джебран.

Шаблон шаблону сделал пакость
И "мыслит": "Я оригинал!"
Коль оценить шаблонов "радость",
Прискорбный вывод: мир пропал.

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Очистить Сердце от нагара
И дальше двигаться опять —
От "человека из футляра"
К тому, кто может Постигать.

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Распятие Чушью

"Невежество — это демоническая сила, и мы опасаемся, что оно послужит причиной еще многих трагедий".
Карл Маркс.

Не демоническая сила,
А средство Демонов держать
В оковах мир: кругом дебилы —
Сильнее можно нагибать.

Нагнули аж до в спинах хруста
В говнид дебилов твари те.
Ждём Катаклизм: пусть будет пусто
Тем, кто нас Чушью распинает словно на кресте!

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Пол Пот затмил весь топ тиранов,
Но успокаиваться рано:
Говнид нам показал суть Зла.
Что ж, ждём Гневливого Козла...

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Дерьмо в уши

"Люди только делают вид, что им нужен собеседник. Реально им нужен слушатель".
Абу Шломо, XI-ый век.

Собеседник нужен редким.
Слушатель всегда в цене:
Излияниями бреда
Утопить чтоб как в говне.

Бред в толпе, а ум лишь в редких.
Бред зашкален, потому
Диким бредом Зло бьёт метко,
Приравняв весь мир к дерьму.

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Путешествие мертвеца

"Много рассуждают о качествах хорошего воспитания. Первое, которое я потребовал бы от него, а оно предполагает и много других, — это не быть человеком продажным".
Жан Жак Руссо.

Руссо, восставший из могилы,
Идёт по миру, удручён:
Кругом продажные дебилы,
Злу подчинение — закон.

Века прошли, но стало хуже.
"Прогресс!" — кричат на всех углах.
Писатель честный днесь не нужен —
Лишь тот, кто возвеличит Лживый Прах

Или дополнит развлекухой
Мирка безумного позор,
Тиражик малый тиснет. Скука...
Продажность словно приговор...

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Достать с небес звезду проблема,
Но небольшая. На Земле
Чуток убрать — гнилая тема,
Ведь прозябает мир во Зле.

А потому везде химеры.
Но ловко "звёзды достают" —
И снова верят пионеры,
Идя на бойни и напрасный труд.

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Tugging the Blanket for Oneself

The slaves are filled with endless strife —
Each pulling the rag towards their side.
Unity, from the start, has died,
And pride destroys those left in life.

It leads them slowly to delusion —
A fallen slave claims liberty,
While drowning in confusion,
Since childhood shaped their slavery.

Gradually, the world’s no longer
A concern, no fate to seek,
And the slave will justify, much stronger,
The collar that they dare to speak.

Excuses call for reason’s sway,
But “philosophers” just lead astray.
In misery, they find their end —
The failures only have one friend.

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Lethargy

Drop, drop, drop —
Lies like rain,
Snore — from the grip
Of sleep, you’re slain.

Into the grave,
So long the wave,
Mind is gone —
Madness, the grave.

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Farewell to Dawn

TOTAL INSANITY:
You won’t say “No!”,
Won’t walk the path alone and grow,
Won’t face the questions life will throw,
Or think it through,
See truth in you,
And draw your strength from deep inside —
But if you nod and drift with lies,
Then hope is gone.
Farewell, dear Dawn.

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The Choice of the Oppressive Majority

Think or believe?
See or just dream?
Open your heart,
Or leave doors to scream?
The choice is clear: believe and eat,
Become a beast — accept defeat.
And care for nothing... ever more.

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What Matters More — A Friend or Truth?

“Plato’s my friend, but truth I cherish more...”
In time, the fools — their masks, the tired d;cor —
These “friends” in form, but hollow at their core —
Disgusted me, though I had fought before.

With such as these — the “close,” the “dear,” the “known” —
You ask no more; the deeper truth has shown.
You smell the lie, no need to weigh or measure —
You turn within — where truth becomes your treasure.

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Disease Prevention

A sick man needs a tender care —
A doctor's care? No, his despair!
Help nature heal, with simple ways,
No need for pills or doctor’s praise.

With this, two-thirds of ills are gone,
The rest? Run out — just keep on!
Leave the cage of sickness, free —
Run to health and liberty!

Make prevention your new fight,
For health, for strength, for future bright.
Repeat the run — you’ll soon be whole,
With wellness as your heart and goal.

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Heart and Atria

Has the heart and its chambers
Worn down to the core?
Increase your efforts,
Leave the madness once more.

With the task complete,
You’re valued by deeds.
Don’t rush — be discreet,
Balance is what it needs.

Can grief destroy the heart?
What then? It’s part of the flow.
Dilemmas won’t depart,
But let your wisdom grow.

Increase your intuition —
To balance out the fight.
Make rest a tradition,
For the heart, it's light.

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The Nursery

To believe is not to think,
Obey the power, let it sink.
Hear the lies and quietly munch,
Breed in silence, in the crunch.

People, or a breeding ground,
Ruled by beasts without a sound?
Heirs to foolishness, they stand,
In a vile, deceptive land.

The average man —
Few others can.
The world, so used to chains,
Feels free, but still it pains.

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History

A tale of nightmare,
Madness everywhere:
All think they’re free,
Yet fools they’ll always be.

A few have sense,
But even they dispense
A lot of foolish talk.
In the end, it’s all a walk...

To nowhere. All is lost.

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The Poet's Harsh Practice

A poet’s craft is tough indeed,
When not for crowds he plants his seed.
A fool he’ll be, his work dismissed —
While slaves consume the filth they’re kissed.

But in the world of fame and gold,
True gems are lost, their worth untold.
What helps? Just jokes, and sharp disguise,
Sarcasm in the face of lies.

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It’s Just in Your Nature!

"Habit is second nature."
— Aristotle

Habit? It’s the only kind.
No deeper nature will you find.
But culture—cheap, corrupt, and fake—
Calls lies and madness “nature’s sake.”

We're used to lies, the world’s insane,
Like fish who don’t perceive the rain.
What’s hell to us, to sheep feels fine —
They graze and never see the sign.

But you — you are a spark divine.
No cage of “nature” can confine
That light within. It’s not some flaw —
It’s crushed by those who fear its law.

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It’s not the madness of commands —
But zeal from blindly serving hands.

The overdrive of fools,
Ruled by twisted tools,
Stuns the sane and wise —
Hope fades from their eyes.

What struck me most in CowID?
Not the orders from the breed,
But the lies embraced with pride,
And the eagerness to ride.

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No Choice!!!

No choice at all — fate carves the track.
"Freedom?" A joke — the slave stays back.
School is the start — where minds are dulled.
Too late to save... just lies, retold.

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Read, Dream, and Die

Just read brain-dead books all day,
Watch some ass shake on your screen —
Millions click that mindless way,
Mouths full, chewing loud and mean.

Swallow lies from beastly freaks,
TV preaching rot to swine.
Planet Earth begins to creak —
As they jab each drooling line

Of CowID — that cursed "disease"
(No one sane should speak the name).
Spirit crushed, and Reason flees —
While the masses rot in shame.

Earth is sick of every fool,
So she shakes and floods and burns.
If she doesn’t break the rule,
Soon in filth the world will churn.

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The Work Is Done

The work is done —
I’ve had enough, I’m sick,
Of life so vile, so weak,
With Satan where the god should stick.

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The Dimming of the Mind

The traces of dulling thought,
In this world so vile, distraught,
Are everywhere, they spread like grime,
A sign of this degenerate time.

Half the loss is just the mind,
But kindness too is left behind.
The artist now a freak to see —
For beauty's elite, a rarity.

For the crowd, it’s lies and fluff,
Food, drink, and stuff enough —
And they rot, "happy" in their state,
As long as money fills their plate.

Once, we had chains to bind us tight,
Now money rules with stronger might.
They've gone deaf, blind, and mute,
As history nears its final suit.

That end is near, though none can tell,
For stupidity won't break the spell.
They’ve sunk so low, there’s no more fall —
We’ve hit the bottom, lost it all.

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Steam

“Politeness is a tacit agreement to ignore and not highlight each other’s moral and intellectual poverty.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer

Curse loud, be rude, unleash your spite!
Cool down — then shout it out all night.
The world has sunk to Hell’s own floor —
Just filth and madness, nothing more.

Through war and CowID, minds decay.
The soulless beasts now rule the day.
No shame, grotesque, nor bitter jest
Can slay the monsters or their fest.

It won't undo this freak parade —
But steam must out, or you'll collapse.
So scream against the whole charade —
Be fierce, be bold — don’t hold it back!

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Antibiotics & More

The cure brings more harm
Than the sickness itself.
They’re breeding alarm —
Degenerates by stealth.

Fear is the gear
That drives their machine…
Or drags us near
To the end unseen.

The press will praise
Whatever's vile —
Each trend it plays
Spells doom in style.

No path remains,
No way to flee —
The world is chained
By greed’s decree.

And most obey
With shaking knees —
“Medicine” today
Is war’s disease.

"AIDS" and CowID
Told the tale:
The worms believe —
The world’s gone pale.

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Steam and Sear

Chronicle of days:
Idiots set ablaze —
Clinging to the lies
From hell in bright disguise.

Fake wars, fake disease...
Step aside with ease.
Leave the wretched crowd,
Wait without a sound

For the age to die —
Fleas beneath the sky.
Then comes cleansing light,
Then the magma’s bite.

Sun will steam the land,
Fire will make its stand.
Don’t complain or cry —
This world earned goodbye.

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City or Garden?

A garden, where the butts stick out,
Turnips for heads — buried in the dirt.
Scratch your feet, and, with a shout,
A sprout will pierce the earth.

Lies are spread, and they proclaim
A new breed’s grown in the field —
The peoples serve, in fear and shame,
Respecting CowID's sealed yield.

Marching off to war, they stand,
Veggies in neat array.
To shout out? That’s a distant plan —
The F;hrer hears the beast, they say.

The agents still, all in their line:
Foreign ones and such — it’s time
To build some statues, cold and fine,
Of asses with their helmets, prime.

In the media, filth will rise —
A lie so simple, just like piss.
They’ll grow it bigger in disguise —
Then harvest it with glee and bliss.

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Mephistopheles Like Potatoes
— sprouting everywhere —
His ascent ensures disasters,
Fools now serve the devil’s lair.

Satanism’s in the system,
Plain for anyone to see —
It reveals itself in “-isms,”
Like Rashism’s sick decree.

Idiocy floods the nations —
Mephisto’s horde in full parade.
Satan plays a god’s creation,
Leads the herds, well-trained, betrayed.

CowID exposed the numbers —
Just how dumb the masses are.
And Rashism, born from embers,
Showed the world has sunk too far.

Yes, the soul feels sick and bitter
From this global mental ward.
Hardly any minds left fitter —
Thus we wait for End’s reward.

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The honey’s fake, but still they eat.
A century or two ago,
It used to taste of golden sweet —
Now worse is all we seem to know.

The Law of Shrinking takes its toll,
All things degrade, all things grow thin.
Even grains have lost their soul —
Less good stuff now lies within.

What once gave life is drained instead,
And no, it’s not some madman's tale —
These facts are clear. All life is led
To walk a slow, declining trail.

Add GMOs and poison sprays,
Add E-codes, filth you’d best forget —
It doesn’t just evolve this way:
They breed a brand-new man — “Meh.”

Then came CowID — what a feat!
The sheep all stood in perfect line.
Now reason's nearly in retreat —
The world’s gone mad... by "grand design".

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"Во глубине сибирских руд"...

"Ум — бог для каждого".
Гераклит.

Ум был Бог. Но Сатана
Стал владельцем дольных сфер
И внедрился в Ум, до Дна
Опустив — мы твари шхер.

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Пена Зла на поверхности клоаки убогого мира

Переоценка сил обычна.
Но то становится критичным,
Когда сил Зла недооценка —
Всегда снаружи только пенка.

На Дне же монстры боевые.
Пред ними люди никакие,
Коль Искру Бога позабыли.
А в целом, в Ад давно приплыли...

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Разделение и Единство

"Сведение множества к единому — в этом первооснова красоты".
Пифагор, VI-ой век до н.э.

Не свести, а раздробить —
Путь лже-знаний и "прогресса".
И осколки "полюбить" —
Те, что вышли из-под пресса.

А потом совсем забыть
Целостность, себя занявши
Потре****ством. В страхе гнить,
Под влияньем СМРАДов павши.

И закончить мира путь
В Лагере, что оцифрован.
Разделение — Мрак, Жуть:
Ложью множат в нём оковы.

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Грядущая зачистка

"Наименьшее зло следует почитать благом".
Никколо Макиавелли.

Зло прогрессию запустит:
Меньший в ряде есть "добро".
Постепенно мир опустит
Сей прогрессией на Дно.

Дно достигнуто — говнидом
Показали то сполна.
Что "добром" считают гниды
Черни ныне? Чтоб цена

Ширпотреба не скакала,
Чтоб не слышать и не знать,
Что Земля УЖЕ пропала —
Чернь ВНОВЬ будут зачищать.

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Старым оптимистом
Юный впечатлён:
В нём "сознанье чисто" —
Мысли гонит вон.

А иначе Мраком
Он бы был добит.
Возвеличим Враки,
В подпол скинув Стыд!

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Всеобщая Ложь

"Если я лгу, я оскорбляю себя в большей мере, чем того, о ком солгал".
Мишель де Монтень, XVI-ый век.

Самоистязание
Мира на предел —
Правду на заклание!
Мир во лжи умел,

Потому УЩЕРБНЫХ
В оном большинство.
"Воскресений вербных"
Много — торжество

Всякой Чуши, чтобы
Можно было "жить" —
Набивать утробу,
В Лжи Всеобщей гнить.

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Решение проблем мира Апокалипсисом

"Кувыркаясь в своей пустоте, вы можете убеждать себя, будто состоите в общении с Единым; но как только вы начали возиться с глиной, пускай даже электронной, вы — демиург, и от этого никуда не деться, а кто собирается сотворить мир, тот неизбежно уже запятнан и ошибками и злом…"
Умберто Эко.

Кувыркаясь в пустоте,
Лишь исследуй, не стремясь,
Пусть в душевной простоте,
Выйти на с "всевышним" связь.

Сатанинский мир, а Бог
Несказанно далеко.
Строишь что-то, в Зле убог, —
Умножаешь тем НИЧТО.

Нам поможет Катаклизм —
Он идёт Издалека:
Уничтожит он фашизм.
Ноша эта нелегка:

Видеть Зло и не суметь
Изменить хоть что-то здесь:
Обух одолеет плеть.
Смерть решит всё — сказ в том весь.

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Свобода

";Свобода определяется количеством людей, которых ты можешь послать".
Серей Юрский.

Пошли весь мир, не ждя пощады,
Ведь единицы в нём не гады.
Один, тогда обматери
И Пустоту — и Свет узри.

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Строка —>
Строфа =>
И стих:
Не стих!

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Глубина Ада

Источник боли обнаружив,
Распутай дальше весь клубок,
Тогда ты будешь в всеоружьи,
Познав, насколько Ад глубок.

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Воздушный замок я построю,
Всё Башней Бреда увенчав.
Жизнь беззаботную устрою,
Для Замка написав Устав.

Но прибежали санитары,
А с ними был и полицай.
В дурдом свезли, потом на нары.
Закон один: Ад — не мечтай!

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"Народ" "решил" "с колен подняться" —
Приказ втемяшил двойничок.
Ну и давай вовсю стараться:
Убей хохла не за значок,

Медальку — выплатим баблишко.
Ну а при чём здесь "встать с колен",
Ведь "на болотах" много слишком
Век не решаемых проблем?

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"История", написанная графоманами

"История повторяется, потому что не хватает историков с фантазией".
Станислав Ежи Лец.

Сплошь графоманы — это даже
И для "истории" закон.
Закажет злые мифы враже —
Вновь подрядится мудозвон,

Ведь честный-умный не продастся:
Он знает, будет Чушь гнобить
Его детей и внуков — Злу удастся
Картину мира напрочь исказить.

СМРАД постарается "реальность"
Переиначить на свой лад.
Вчера и ныне — ИНФЕРНАЛЬНОСТЬ,
А правит миром от глаз скрытый Гад.

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Almost Bookkeeping

The "balance" is closed,
The end — in the "passive" line,
The chance to live’s been lost,
To thrive — no longer mine.

The rest is trash,
A build-up of lies,
The saving of souls
From total demise.

The chance is gone,
"Assets" worth nothing now.
It's all decadence,
With reserves wiped out somehow.

Well then, bankrupt,
The world falls deep,
Humans like cattle —
End of life’s steep.

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The world’s a stage — and we, they say, are players?

But players of a rundown, burnt-out stage,
Where each dreamed Hamlet’s grief to once portray —
Yet played a fool, a dunce upon the page,
And studied not the craft, but how to "climb" his way.

They all forgot: true art exists for art.
To serve the Muse is glory, not a trade,
Not boiling rotten feelings for a part
In shows where hacks direct and truth’s betrayed.

Those who rose high and won the leading scenes
Weren’t those with talent, heart, or measured tone —
But those who pushed with elbows, fierce and keen,
And fought their way to seize the starry throne.

The stage has burned. The elbowed, lacking grace,
Now seek another stage to strut and play —
But none remains. The last chance to embrace
Real passion’s flame was squandered, tossed away.

Now nothing’s left but groaning in despair,
Awaiting roles of traitors marked for death,
And learning pain — the price of art laid bare,
As Spirit speaks in every labored breath.

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The Deputy

A deputy — disgrace and shame,
A twisted mind, in darkness tame,
With "approval" for the beast’s law,
A world of decay, with no more awe.

In it, money blinds it all,
Excuses rise, but they will fall.
The Final Judgement won't believe,
And all the rot will burn, no reprieve.

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A Song Left Unfinished…

If a song holds no delusion,
That's a pity, that’s a flaw.
Life throws in its own intrusion —
Sticks for those who honor law.

No one hears the voice that’s clear —
Noise is what they want to sell.
In this world so dark and drear,
Only madness rings the bell.

Drivel fills the air like smog,
Cheap and dirty monologue.
Only filth gets full attention —
Groaning hard with no dimension.

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Loss and the Cost

A heavy loss — of wit, of pride —
And then the price is paid in full:
You rot in filth, where lies abide,
Among fascistic, mindless bull.

This stupid world decays, and fast,
Its brains replaced with sheepish fluff.
But give the fascists time — at last
We’ll live like amoebas: dumb and tough,

Devouring crap to store in bulk,
Then crapping just to make a point —
Enough to make the germs sulk
And envy every bloated joint.

False plagues, like gods, now rule the land —
Inventing more so none escape.
With every jab, a rotten brand,
In poison’s name — salvation’s shape.

Corruption spreads in every crack,
While Evil lies attack and feast.
There's no clear road, no turning back —
Just rot beneath the lab coats' priest.

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Suckers and Night Terrors

All the suckers, round and plastic,
Puffed with lies — then pop, they drop
Into nightmares grim and spastic,
Where the meek get crushed nonstop.

“Just obey,” “believe,” “don’t question” —
That’s a loser’s sacred code.
So the scum with fake intentions
Easily infect the load.

Terror, filth, and fear they offer
To the dimwits of all kinds,
Claiming, “It’s for safety, softer
Lives” — for demons tanning hides.

Figurative? Maybe. Barely.
Formally — it’s lemon time:
Squeeze the sucker dry and fairly.
In this hell, fear-fuel is prime.

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

Chemical Attack

A chemical attack —
Food and "medical care,"
Lies to send the fools back,
Wasting them with despair.

They say, "Science protects,
Keeps your health in check,"
But food’s just wasteful effects,
And no one stops to check.

No problems here, they say,
While idiots believe —
Memes lead the clueless way,
And “care” is just a weave.

They’ll starve you slow, erase the truth,
Idiots repeat the lie,
A parade of selling proof,
Under fake smiles, they cry.

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

Pynya

Pynya hears, Pynya knows,
He rules the people, high and low,
With lies, with fear, with sticky dread —
In that "land," you walk with dead.

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

Anti-Psychiatric Fantasy

Inject a "downer" — let it sting,
To feel this Hell more crystal-clear.
To hell with all that "well-being" —
Only freaks feel cozy here.

The world turned upside down, they chase
The "higher ground" with rabid pride,
Declare all spirit realms a waste,
And ride ambition's bloated tide.

Obsessed with power, cash, and speed,
He’s "cheerful", "stable", smug and bold —
But truly, he's devoid of need:
A half-dead clown with guts gone cold.

Through pain you’ll wake in Hell’s abyss,
Through pain, the face of Evil see.
Only morons call this bliss.
Pain plus Clarity — that’s free!

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

;Zero and Nothing

From birth, you start in negative,
And soon you’re trapped, it’s clear to see.
The system’s built to push the sieve,
Making “school” the brain’s debris.

They castrate every rebel’s mind,
And “maturity” brings empty toll —
Like luck’s a joke that’s left behind.
Yet still the poor declare it’s whole.

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

;Old Optimists

Old optimists still trust the tales,
As they did in the days of yore.
Once traitors spoke with louder wails —
Today, Judas rebels once more.

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

;What Strikes Is Not the Madness of Orders, But the Zeal of the Executors

The overdrive of idiots,
Under creatures' rule, no wit,
Shocks the wise —
As faith in the future dies.

What impressed in CowID's game?
Not the beasts' orders — but the same,
To evil's call, they blindly race,
Performing lies with "boundless grace".

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

Ass Shaker — A Million Views

An ass-shaker — a million views,
A poet? None, that's old news.
A world of fools, that's how it’s told,
Where poets are as good as old.

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

Mockery Science for the Mindless Poor

They laugh it off — dismiss and scoff —
When topics get too rough to hold.
What shakes their "science" right clean off
Reveals it built on lies and mold.

It clings to charts, deceit, and graphs,
Pretending strength through shallow frames.
But fraud and schemes, like poison drafts,
Are how these beasts perfect their games.

From CowID lies to “circles” drawn
In crops — they mock, deny, distort.
The Rotten World Bedlam rolls on,
With parasites who twist the “port.”

A flood of facts gets shaved to none,
Their “theories” cut to fit the mold.
No arguments — just memes for fun.
And poor minds? They consume what’s sold.

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

More "Knowledge" — Less Belief

More "knowledge" means less faith,
"Knowledge" turns to faith again.
Blindly trust the "pioneers,"
In the lies that science spins.

This filth begins to spread,
With "Inquisition" in its tread.
Know for yourself — such daring feat
In a world where lies repeat.

Only a few will stand apart,
And that’s why the world’s a broken art.
It won’t revive, it’s doomed, you see —
When beasts make laws, there’s no decree.

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

Like the "Secret Services"

The cocaine lord —
A heavy price he’s scored.
But the "services" of fake states,
With drugs, they claim their noble fate.

Escobar’s gone, but "services" thrive,
They’ve taken it all, they’re still alive.
Murderers, worse than any thug,
"Services" — a label for the drug.

The beasts serve the ones who hide,
Madmen running wild inside.
They’ve watched the movies, seen the show —
Where heroes are the filth below.

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

Poetry Fatigue

When poetry comes in endless streams —
No "roses," no "hydrangea" dreams,
No "glory" sung to kings or lords —
Just weariness in quiet chords.

To fight it, reason is your guide,
But still, it’s hard to dodge the slide
Into those pits where verses stall —
And climbing out? No gain at all.

You rise, but wisdom doesn’t grow —
The poet’s path is cursed and slow.
Forget about some grand ascent —
It’s not for bards the stars were meant.

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

Like "Causality"

And B follows A,
Repeats itself too fast.
But B’s called cause —
A mistake, unsurpassed.

It’s just the habit,
Labeled “causality,”
The mind’s a sieve,
In vanity's reality.

We learn? WE NAME!
Opinions in place of thought —
Just nonsense, all the same,
This plague that we’ve sought.

It kills the mind,
The search is what we crave,
The end’s decay defined,
In which we soon shall cave.

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

In the Sandbox

"Take your toys and leave my pot!
And don’t you dare to pee again!"
Though they're "grown-ups" — still a lot
Never truly use their brain.

"Teenage minds" in grown-up skins —
That's the norm, a global trend.
Add delusions, fed like sins —
And the madhouse has no end.

In this world, where dumb’s a prayer
Chanted like a holy creed,
No one grows — they stall right there,
Trained to serve, not think or lead.

They may look like full-grown men,
But inside — wild kids at play.
Fed on lies, they sleep again,
Numb and docile every day.

Lies control the game. The wise
Must outgrow this plastic trap.
But for minds that never rise —
Old-school lies still fill the gap.

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

Pre-Flight Fantasy

To fly! Who cares if you might crash,
Your bones a mess, your soul unstrung?
They’ll rot regardless in the trash
If all you do is hold your tongue.

The dead are calm — they always are,
And most are corpses, still in breath.
But if you never shoot for stars,
You celebrate slow-rotting death.

So grow the Wings of Art — they sprout
From feathered lines your hand will weave.
Through flight, let Spirit cast out doubt,
And all that fear you still believe.

That clings like rot, won’t let you soar,
No matter how you strain or pray.
There is no choice — it’s fly or floor.
It’s UP — or rot away!

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

The Autumn of the World

They count their chickens in the fall —
And how? They chop their heads, that’s all.
The same fate waits the flock of sheep:
Fascistic rot runs strong and deep.

It’s everywhere — and yet just bleating,
Excuses soft, submissive pleading.
Their trembling voices feed the flames,
While bastards play their butcher games.

With double force they strike and bind,
Then paint it “care for humankind.”
They cage the herd in wires and codes —
A prison dressed in safety modes.

They’ll shoot fresh poison in your vein
If you don’t flee their fenced domain.
That’s how they’ll count the sheep once more —
Still waiting, drooling at the door...

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

;Dogmatism of Pseudoscience and the Goals Behind It

Dogma rules — it's off the meter.
Pseudoscience, clear as day:
Full of lies and raving fever,
It will never change its way.

Those who fund it seek a mission —
Not religion, but control.
Feeding fools with fake ambition,
Waiting till it takes its toll.

Change will come — a camp is looming,
Digital, with rules unclear.
Truth will hide in faulty coding,
Chips in hands — the law is near.

There, fake plagues will serve as anchor,
Poison will be sold as cure.
Serve them well — avoid their anger.
Life for humans? Not so sure.

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

Fantasy

The tears keep falling, rolling still —
But truth? They simply won’t believe.
"Sleep on it — you'll find the will,"
Then line up bright, na;ve, na;ve...

A fantasy. All that’s true
Are lies and tears — no light, no flame.
The darkness wants obedient crew —
No mind, no soul, no sense of shame.

Tears without the truth are fake,
Just shrieking fits, no deeper cause.
And minds without the soul will break —
Most are soulless now, because...

The media feeds the slaves pure lies
With every broadcast, every claim.
And soon we’ll see parades arise —
As fascism returns in shame.

CowID served as training drill,
Darkness won — and loud, and fast.
The crowd were cowards, dumb and still —
This world’s a joke. A farce. A blast.

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

Оглупленье: школа —
Слуги Произвола
За гроши стараются;
Все детишки маются...

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

"Светлая даль"

Великою печалью
Подёрнута Душа,
Ведь обманули "далью", —
Придурки в Ад спешат.

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

Победа на бумаге
"Задорного добра":
Всегда найдёшь в овраге
Следы — то Зла игра.

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

"Победы" и "перемены" в мире под гнётом сатанизма

"Многие триумфальные арки народ позднее носил как ярмо".
Станислав Ежи Лец.

Победу Зла паскуды
Триумфом назовут —
Чего-то там... "Народы"
Ярмо вновь обретут.

Победы — это смены:
Одно Ярмо долой,
Другое — "перемены!" —
На шею. СМРАДов вой

Всем донесёт: "Настала
Счастливая пора!"
Ярмо —> ЯРМО => пропала
Народу тьма, ведь бог не Ра.

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

Временность человечества

Служение? Лишь Вечности!
В ней мало "человечности",
Она ведь преходяща,
Раз Ад здесь настоящий.

Иконой сатанизма
Стал ныне человек:
Говнид, пора рашизма —
"Живём" в ПОСЛЕДНИЙ век.

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

Деньги средство для тебя,
Или ты холоп для них?
Выше Правды мзду любя,
Мир заполнил алчный псих.

Перекроен мир под то:
Продавайся, накопи!
Чрез Всемирное Ничто
К Свету Чистому беги!

Вариант последней строки. К Свету в путь — его люби!

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

За что подвешена псевдожизнь?

Нить порв`алась? Иль сопля?
Ты подвешен за ничто —
ЖизДнь убогая лишь "для",
Потому ты здесь никто.

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

The Fools

To spin a tale,
A fine art, they say?
These fools will hail
The darkest lies, come what may.
They’ll ask for more,
Add fuel to lies' fire.
Nonsense, madness, rot —
The world a tightening wire.

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

The Dead Ones

Dead are the children of dead generations,
Cities reek tomb-like, soulless and gray.
Few are the bearers of light and salvation —
Spirit is shattered, and reason betrayed.

Hellish dominions have seized the foundations,
Beasts rule through traitors — their will is imposed.
Power is forged through mass suffocation:
Choke every soul — and your bonus is owed.

Rotten in essence, this death-breeding sickness
Kills all that lives, spreads decay like a mist.
Filth is now worshipped as vital and “fitness” —
If you still eat, do you really exist?..

Soon, all the graves will be leveled and taken —
Time to redeem what the Earth had once known.
But no one cares. The dark is awaken —
And dead ones will claim you, make you their own.

There’s no surviving without transformation —
Look at the past: "Communism" stands.
Worse is to come — no imagination
Can grasp the reach of the fascist command.

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

The Deer

The world’s just fine for docile deer,
As long as no one stands too clear —
Stay on your knees, enjoy the feed,
And never question what you need.

Food and booze — a simple plan,
Fit for every stag and clan.
They’re herded back into the pen
Beneath the flag of "change again."

The pen will change — that’s all they get.
It’s always been that way, and yet:
Food, then booze, and back once more —
The years just trickle out like lore.

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

The Fourth Law of Not-Newton

"A test is deemed successful when
Half the data’s tossed away —
Just enough to fake a plan
That makes the theory seem okay."

That’s the law — forget Sir Newton,
This one's followed far and wide:
Truth gets filtered, facts are shootin’
Blanks that still look justified.

"Custom science" — faked for hire,
Proofs for monsters, bought and sold.
Lies have dulled us, made us tire —
Fake science crawls through ages cold.

Like a hitman, trained and ready,
Hired to do a silent task:
Miss the mark? You're next already —
Fail the beasts, and feel the blast.

Human minds — the main obsession
For this crooked, sold-out cult.
Can't enslave them by oppression?
Trick them blind — that gets results.

So they lie, with charts and jargon,
Flashing "Proof!" like holy writ.
Cry "It’s proven!" — and a heron
Nods along and swallows it.

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

Sharks and Other Scare Tactics

A Chukchi in his little tent
Fears the sharks on terror’s trail —
They’re coming straight, with dark intent,
TV says so — grim and pale.

New “diseases” flood the station,
Flying straight into his dome.
Better get that “vaccination” —
Brilliant minds have brewed the foam.

Trust the box — it’s got the treasure,
Only truth, and nothing less.
Chukchi’s home turns into pressure
If he swallows their distress.

Dumb and savage, loud and lurid,
Propaganda loads the gun.
Lies are sharper than a bullet —
And they blast out reason — gone.

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

The Cause

No time to stall or wait!
Are men still in this state?
Or have the fools laid mines
For braver, smarter minds?

The bold, the true, the wise —
Now trapped in dull disguise.
The wicked lead the way,
And good is swept away.

No time for hesitation!
If you're a man — your station
Is facing evil head-on.
It strikes through clueless hang-ons.

Avoid the clowns, the brutes —
Their madness bears no roots.
They’ll wreck the work you start,
All chaos, no true heart.

The cause is striking lies
With fire that never dies.
The beast of lies won’t sleep —
It kills, it crawls, it creeps...

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

Slave Psychology and Ideology

“Freedom is necessity — but known.”
Spinoza’s thorn to minds full-blown
With chains they cherish, fears they keep —
A slave must tremble, crawl, and weep.

There is a choice — to serve or not,
It happens deep, inside the thought.
That thorn, once twisted in the brain,
Leads straight into the dark domain.

And now they’re “free” — within their minds,
They claim fate’s random, blind, and kind.
No slaughterhouse, no silent doom —
Just “accidents” that softly loom.

They’re offered tons of prophet-lies,
And gobble them with glassy eyes.
They’ll praise oppression, call it style,
Name whips “tradition” all the while.

They’ll live in chains, then call it grace,
With blissful numbness on their face.
And thinking dies beneath the yoke —
A funeral where minds are choked...

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

The Grayness of the Zombie World and Its Box

"Topics" — memes,
Hell’s own schemes,
Filth, "deals" to sell.
And we remain mute as hell.

Clips, the box —
A true paradox,
No rules at all.
A brilliant mind —
But it falls.

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

The Inversion

Feeble minds and weak ambition,
Childish dreams and vain pretension —
Draped in style and fine condition,
But beneath — a dark dimension.

This inversion's all around us:
Judas wears a halo proudly,
Fools proclaim their wisdom loudly,
Life becomes a chain that bounds us.

Tormenting the mind with teaching,
Books and schooling — just illusion.
Souls are tortured by the preaching
Of false faiths and their "conclusions."

Hell is crowned as new perfection,
Idiocy — now affection.
Wait a bit — the end is nearing.
Can’t you see? It's all past bearing.

Madness rules — the world is spinning.
They will burn this plague-beginnings.
Now arrives the time of cleansing.
Others soon will do the tending.

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

The Office Baboon

The Sheep is led by Monkey's hand,
The Goat commands behind the scene.
That’s the "people" of fake lands —
Where fascist whims are routine.

The CowID show revealed the pit:
No room for human hearts or grace.
The soul is fading, bit by bit,
As devils scrub it from the race.

A brand-new breed is being bred —
The office baboon, born and trained.
When "Neo-crap" is fully spread,
The world will be a penned domain.

And once they form the ruling mass,
All human hope will face its doom —
For we let herds and fools surpass
And seed the world with evil’s bloom.

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

Tautology

Pink roses, rosy bright,
Oily, thick, and shining white.
No threat in sight — but still they reign,
The new fascists rise again.

Their "kindness" hides a twisted face,
And "care" brings only cold disgrace.
Massacres masked as "healing" ways —
A peak of their audacious plays.

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

Stupidity, Grayness

Stupidity, dullness,
Rudeness, and greed.
Endless lies,
Selfishness, need.
Savagery, decay—
All in dismay:
To slaughter!
No delay...

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

The Well of Oblivion

A twisted crowd —
The well is proud
To drown what's best
And leave the rest.

Refuse to bend?
Then down you’ll send —
Cold waters wait
To seal your fate.

Say "yes" instead
To ice and dread —
A smarter path
Than join the wrath.

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

The Sheeple-Virus

The sheeple-virus split the land —
Two parts, but not the same in weight:
The mass is dumb, too dull to stand.
So where’s that “brilliant mind” they rate?

So few remain — and now draws near
A time of horror, sharp and tragic:
A global camp, designed by fear,
Beneath a cross — how bold, how "magic."

Go mark the world with one last X —
No hope ahead, just degradation.
Corruption spreads — no place reflects
A trace of soul or elevation.

This world’s decayed — it will be burned,
No other end remains to choose.
Its shame: the beast that once had turned
Into a corpse that walks — confused.

For now the weak are bred and crowned,
A race of mutants, dull and broken.
They’ll praise the Beast, in madness bound —
CowID’s just flowers. Worse is spoken.

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

Superconductor

The "conductor" burns away,
If he goes too deep in Evil’s sway.
A poet’s flight — he falls or fades:
The "super-conductor" lasts but a blaze.

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

Wings

With wings of truth, your sight will clear—
Only then will you take flight,
Leaving decay and darkness here,
To find the Spirit's peaceful light.

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

Ignorance Is Strength!

When fools are fed a steaming pile
And call it “knowledge” with a smile —
Then truth turns dark, and lies grow tall.
They lie, and lie, and lie through all.

Fake plagues like CowID, lies on AIDS —
The mind’s been drugged, its edge decays.
Ten percent left — perhaps still clear,
The rest are lost in dull-eyed fear.

So turn your intuition on,
Expose the lie it feeds upon.
Add reason, sharp and unafraid —
You’ll see the madness that they’ve made.

The herd’s no longer truly man,
But beasts beneath a darker plan.
To miss this truth — you play the clown,
Or serve the Beast that breaks us down.

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

;Nothing to Remember

No friendship left, no love to see,
For women, none, no memory.
If art’s a strain that weighs you down,
Cut all ties, and wear no crown!

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

Hybrid War

The dumbing down becomes the key
To wage a war so sly and mean.
It’s everywhere, without a face—
A swarm of fools now takes its place.

That idiot will track you down
And march you to a camp in town.
Refuse the pen? Then meet your fate—
The madhouse has an open gate.

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

;Loyalty to Yourself

The crowd stumbles blind into the night —
To madness, with no end in sight.
If you refuse to do their wrong,
You’re an outcast — not where you belong.

All relationships, since you were young,
Will label you as untrue.
If you won’t be their means or pawn,
You’re false to their “ideals” too.

Yet evil’s called “ideal,” and praised
With words that sound so high and wise.
Be true to yourself, or your soul will fade
In a world of lies and futile lies.

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

;New Kolobok

The Kolobok rolled into soup,
Distracted by the creatures’ game.
Think you’re not as dumb as you look?
If so, then play the foolish same...

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

Decadence

Ah, Hollywood and fast-food chains—
They’ve killed off art and daily dinners.
The media just fans the flames,
More brazen lies, more soulless sinners.

Wherever you may cast your glance,
It’s wedge on wedge—no room for turning.
No noble blow, no second chance—
Just scorched-out nerves from beauty burning.

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

Does the Brain Excrete a Thought?

“Stimulation — then suppression” —
So they frame the mind’s expression.
But get wounded in the Heart —
And you’ll tear that lie apart.

Still, the madness floods our senses:
Souls decayed — no real defenses.
Freaks now preach their twisted creeds,
Breeding fools for darker deeds.

Thought descends from higher places,
Brain’s a wire — no shining source.
If your Heart is scorched in traces,
“Suppression” lacks the force.

That’s why poets die so early —
Or go mad, with vision swirly.
If they linger, it’s with pain —
Their soul burns slow, not plain.

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

Concentration Camp

The fools and swine, they are the base
Of this world's foolish, vile embrace.
Is foolery now all that's left?
A new F;hrer rises, cold and deft,

To craft the fools, and send them blind,
Like cattle led to slaughter, mind.
It’s hard to be your truest self
In a world where madness reigns in stealth.

If you won’t join the fools or swine,
Then you’re lost — there’s no design.
This pair has turned the world to rot,
A REAL hell, by their own plot.

The damned are here, yet swine still crave
To feast, to riot, misbehave.
The fool builds camps from rotting ground,
A world gone sick, where hell is found.

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

In the Mouse Trap

The world is cheese, no lutes or lyres —
A lyre spoils the appetite.
For "spirituality," just choir’s fires.
As for the mind? It’s near its end:

The CowID shows the bottom’s depth —
Few minds are left to count or trace.
If there’s cheese, it matters not:
In the trap, we eat and rest.

What’s most important, after all,
Is what each does, for what they’re worth.
To pride oneself in Hell’s own fall—
As long as there’s a stock of cheese on Earth.

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

"Elections"

A "charismatic" clown’s worth more
Than someone smart but less composed.
That’s how the state selects its whores —
The crowd is mentally deposed.

All candidates — one single body,
Their differences are just for show.
The herd elects them — dumb and shoddy,
Too lost in filth to ever know.

They share one vault, one stream of funding,
Their "rivalry" — just for the scene.
They lack in brain but ride like thunder —
Why think at all, when you're the king?

Their speeches ghostwritten by hacks
According to a script assigned.
And backstage fascists plan the tracks
That lead the mob straight into blind.

A circus strung on puppet strings —
That’s politics and every vote.
A clown above, a freak beneath —
The daily act they love to quote.

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

Marching Orders

He was told to march out west,
She was sent to face the rest.
Off they went — the witless throng
To civil war, where all feels wrong.

Time has taught them close to nil —
Again, the poisoned tongues instill
The urge to kill at someone’s shout,
To strike their kin and wipe them out.

Who pulls the strings? They do not see —
The foe controls the mindless spree.
So in a fevered, frenzied trance,
They slay their friends without a glance.

Ukraine, Korea — names that burn,
When fools forget, we don’t learn.
Onward, idiot! Be bold!
No shame in measures dark and cold…

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

Egocentrism and Infantilism

With iron grip, self-love took hold,
The Psyche bent, the heart went cold.
A planted thought begins to rise —
Now madness dances in the eyes.

Some foreign shard — the shape of vice —
Slipped in, a mask of goats and lies,
A cursed command, a wicked seed
That feeds the Beast, and fans its greed.

This world’s the Goat’s domain entire.
His tool? The Self, in dark attire.
He drives out Spirit, dulls the flame —
Turns all to cattle. That’s his game.

This fascist fog now wraps the land —
A sign we must not fail to stand.
So crush the Judas deep inside —
The foe of Reason, Spirit's pride.

You’ll kill the slave when that is done —
For Judas keeps the chains as one.
And only grown souls break that fate —
It's infants who endure the hate.

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

The Fatality of Infernalism

Orcs. "Plagues." The slaughter. Dark.
In lies so total, cold, and stark,
No honest mind can ever join —
They fight alone, they fight in vain.

If this is true, the end is near.
This world’s a sell-out, drenched in fear.
To the New Hell — but after cleansing,
All the wise will be expunged in ending.

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

Pseudo-Life

Filthy stream in murky motion
Spews through Rot with wild devotion,
Crashes hard on Rocks of Lies,
Scooping scum as trophy prize.

Fragile truth sinks in a minute —
Scum won’t help; they’re gladly in it.
Rotten stench burns through the air,
But the stream still rushes there —

Heading straight toward the ending,
No use crying, no defending.
Fools drift on, all bright and cheery —
“Life is fine,” they chant, too weary

To care for more than food and gold —
Blinded minds, corrupted, cold.
Brains long poisoned by the stink,
No one stops or dares to think.

Waking them? Beyond all hoping.
All that’s left is silent coping —
Till, at last, the crowd will cry,
Wail and scream… and wonder why.

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

Evil Genius

A genius can't be kind —
Only darkness nurtures the vile.
History will show, in time,
The super-evil’s cruel style...

The genius is the father of lies,
And it spawns evil’s spawn.
Bribery first, then alibis —
Mass deception leads the pawn.

The fog of illusion blinds the mind,
And lies are skillfully spun.
The evil "science" twists and binds —
It chills the soul, leaves us undone.

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

"Go with the Flow"...

Go with the flow?
Downward, it leads!
Exceptions in
The stench of lies —
Are rare indeed,
For "the flow" is
But decay's own seed.

You’ll drift through filth,
Among the mad,
The twisted ones,
The fools so bad,
In evil's play,
They’ll lead the way.

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

The Blind "Scholar" Blabbermouth

The world-view's shattered into shards —
Each fool locked in his mental yard.
They zoom on crumbs with scholar’s pride,
Then launch a howitzer when they try to generalize.

In monkey hands — the scalpel gleams.
The truth? Not part of their grand schemes.
False science serves another goal:
To strangle thought and cage the soul.

Their "proofs" are tools — for mind control,
Spun carefully to trap us whole.
A web well-woven, smooth and tight,
But where's the spider? Out of sight.

The “scientist” — a blinded pawn,
Drunk on dogma, vision gone.
He cranks out nonsense by the ton —
A blind blabbering babbling don.

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

The Futility of Poetry

Poetry's useless,
And prose is in vain;
Claims are all pointless,
No truth left to sustain.

The media’s engine
Runs on twisted tracks.
But where is the thought
In this darkness that lacks?

It’s hard to find it,
You’ll wear yourself thin.
A writer's a hostage,
Trapped deep within sin.

They’ll spin the garbage,
To dull and decay.
The abyss has been pierced —
Moral rot rules the day.

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

Propaganda, or Below the Bottom

A gang of vile propaganda,
Worse than bandits, war’s own plague—
A vicious crew, the Beast’s agenda,
Their minds no longer in the game.

The nonsense they spread drives them mad,
Their days are short, their time is wrecked—
No depths below, no worse they’ve had,
Man can’t imagine worse, I suspect.

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

The Law of Large Numbers, or The Slave Majority

Slavery wins — it always thrives
Inside the mind where panic drives.
A stupid brain will fold and flail
The moment fear begins to wail.

Even if the threat is fake,
Just a ghost that nightmares make —
Still they choke and fall in line.
Only few will shout: "Not mine!"

But numbers rule — the world obeys
The darkest herd’s demented ways.
Where madness blooms, the mind grows thin —
And mass delusion always wins.

If you march with them — you're lost.
They’ll drag you down, and that’s the cost.
Step aside. Walk your own thread.
Heart and mind must lead instead.

Let your compass be your flame —
And leave that Bedlam, quit the game.

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

Deeply Layered Madness Defense

A vicious circle —
The “only friend.”
Or is it madness,
Ringed in the end?

No fresh ideas,
No sense to the schemes.
Around, the Dark
Unravels your dreams.

Break that loop,
Tear the chains.
Stand alone —
With truth that reigns.

That truth — the Soul.
Watch it, slow and deep,
For only it
Escapes the rot we keep.

The world breeds lies,
Hellish in its threads.
Run, run fast —
Before your mind’s dead.

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

The Simplicity of Herd Control

The coward’s greedy — start with fear,
Then flash some cash to draw him near.
Once he’s drooling at the prize,
You can pump him full of lies.

No resistance, no delay —
Just have the memes lined up to play.
Fake “research,” a graph or two,
If it fails? Just push on through.

Crank the pressure, feed the stress —
Soon the chaos coalesces.
Systems bend, and minds obey
When memes define the game they play.

Fear and greed — the memetic trigger.
Now they’re beasts, not even bigger.
Once you’ve yoked that lump of clay,
Genocide’s just... policy today.

The BEASTS in charge don’t shed a tear.
Their crawling worms obey in fear —
Fools of every shape and breed.
So few left who still bleed... and heed.

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

The Stone of Sisyphus

Thoughts grow thin,
The body aches within.
Old age brings sorrow,
When... all you see is horror.

Wisdom's ripped away
In "maturity" — they say.
They roll the Sisyphus stone
Up the hill, all on their own.

But for cash, it's all a joke,
Minds grow dull — they’re bound to choke.
The stone will fall —
The fool’s to blame, after it all.

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

Comics and Clip Culture

An image’s stuck in the mind so tight,
A short text adds to the blinding light.
A fool’s born quick, and he’s all around,
For dumbness is the world’s true ground.

Add a clip — and “progress” shines,
The fools will fill their shallow minds.
From the press, a fool’s unleashed:
A finished idiot — a war at least.

No more need for lies so bold,
Fools can be killed with lies untold.
As CowID showed, it’s not so hard —
Just lie a bit more, and tear apart.

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

Chronicles of the Fall

Anthologies of verse,
When fools decay, so vile, so terse,
If poems mirror their disgrace,
Yet still remember light’s embrace,
The fools will bend, the madness spread—
Wild nonsense, everywhere ahead.

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

Thoughts Are Few, But Deeply Grown

Thoughts are few, but deeply sown —
Irritation’s seeds have grown.
Surrounded by the Judas crowd,
Or fools who sell their souls too loud.

Honest ones, you'll find online,
But even there, truth's hard to find.
For in the net, as everywhere,
Lies are just the usual fare.

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

"Tragedies" of the Schizo

The fools' squabbles,
The madman's plight;
Reason goes down,
Like a plague in the night.

Leave the madhouse,
Seek answers within;
With the crowd,
Always "grinning" in sin.

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

Under CowID

The lice revealed, with CowID shown,
How fragile is the mind, alone,
In this earthly, fleeting plight.
And far ahead, more grief and fright—
We’re nearly lost, almost gone from sight.

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

Vegetables

Only the potato’s truly free,
Lie to the "citizens," let it be,
They'll swallow it — this "freedom" call,
For brainless fools believe it all.

The veggie culture thrives in lies,
Focused on tricks and shallow cries.
Pollen spreads — decay unseen,
They kneel in fear, just blind to mean.

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

The Likeness of Food

To let them use you, that's a sin,
A mark so deep, a dreadful thing.
To steal's a lesser crime, they say,
Adultery? Just laugh and play.

The world is built on those we serve,
And from them, all we seek to curve.
But fear the thief who subtly hides,
And turns true friendship into lies.

For bit by bit, they'll tear you down,
Until you can't create, or crown,
To love, to think, to feel, to do —
You’ll be but food, a shell, and through.

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

Double F;hrer

Double "Speaker"
Twists the truth,
A blow to the head —
You’re in the tomb, uncouth.

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

Spirit

The calm point within the cyclone’s rage
Is not born, and thus it defies
The law of death — a secret stage,
One that fleeting minds can’t realize.

A cool spot in the raging Hell,
It’s yours if you turn on your mind.
Only through this, it will compel
Your soul, leaving the noise behind.

Lying beasts don’t burn with flame,
But howl to spread their fearful shame.
All for that point — to be the one
That rises, leaving dust undone.

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

Phantasmagoria of the Grown Fool

A grown-up fool,
Acting "wise" today.
For him, it’s all simple —
Just don’t challenge what they say:

Blindly obey.
"Everything’s okay" —
Repeat this mantra,
And ignore the dismay.

Except for money —
That’s the highest goal.
In this world of nonsense,
It’s the only "soul."

That "water" pours,
And the madness grows.
If cash is present,
Then no one knows.

The world’s set to fade —
The fool won’t know,
Wait for your paycheck,
And "water" in the snow.

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

Savage Beasts

In the frenzy of deceit,
Dull and rotten, all they greet—
A pitiful, wretched crowd,
Led by a master, stern and proud.
He leads them all to "cure," no choice,
A slaughter’s call, a deadly voice.
The media’s sting will guide the way,
To rid the fools, as lies hold sway...

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

Long Strategy

In art, take heed —
Measure every rare resource,
Shut the door, don't heed
The chaos, stay on course.
No need for haste —
Time's yours to claim.
Don’t seek joy in waste;
Seek not the fool’s fame.

The meaning's clear —
REALIZATION’s key.
The rest’s just cheer,
Or fools’ mockery.

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

Sheepish

Their fate is lies, they can't deny,
With rotten brains and empty sighs.
Genocide’s their yo-yo game,
A hellish whirl, it’s all the same.

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

Junk and "Meat Storms"

A freak show: stick a needle in,
March to the meat storm, fight to win —
With the F;hrer, side by side,
For the "values" they can't hide.

At the end? The orcish bliss —
Stacks of cash, they couldn't miss.
On their knees they begged before,
Now they crawl, forevermore.

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

"Real Aryans, huh?"

Down the hill the orcs came sliding,
Squads deployed and took their siding.
Seized the farm with savage drive —
"Great BREAKTHROUGH!" blared the TV live.

Once again it screamed with passion:
"Stir the scum in deadly fashion!
Let them charge the front and fall —
DYING NOW'S THE NOBLE CALL!"

Hired guns with paid ambition —
"Heroes of the pure tradition!"
So the screen begins its preaching:
Propaganda’s dark art — reaching.

But the orcs, with eyes so hollow,
Fail to see the trap they follow:
They're the target — that’s the game.
Meat for coins — that's war’s real name.

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

Marriage Amid the Madness

A blue-eyed blonde — a perfect dream?
Just a trick from magazine.
In real life, the vows will fray —
Lies and tantrums rule the day.

Endless nagging, petty fights,
Lonely peace brings clearer nights.
There, your heart and mind survive —
In marriage, wars just... multiply.

Rare exceptions, sure, exist —
But love and friendship? Often missed.
Most are slaves, too dull to feel
Anything that's true or real.

They don’t love — they chase a prize,
“Joy” that’s measured in me-size.
Giving? Ha! Just venom spat.
Without some give, there's none of that.

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

All that was dear has slipped away,
Now fools take center stage today.
The fools are many, vast the sea —
Better madness, wild and free,

Than witness such a vile disgrace.
Not to lose my mind, but face
The insolence in this mad world,
Where Reason’s flag’s been firmly curled.

A few remain, but they don't count,
The “roof” above is full of doubt.
Roof-moving out, an heirloom grand,
A tool for kids to understand:

To live in this decayed domain —
To lie, betray, and bend in vain,
To whine, indulge the Evil's creed,
And sleep through life, without a need.

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

Choice? Vyborg or Luga?!
Head beyond — find a friend?
There’s no choice, it’s all pretend,
They led us all through empty trends!

The odds, they calculated well —
That “choice”? Too low, too much to sell!
The only choice? The chains we wear,
Like targets lined up everywhere.

Luga? Who cares — find a girl,
Get drunk, forget the world’s cruel swirl.
And then, don’t forget to drink again —
Forgetting’s just the start of pain...

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

"Sleep" and moan; nonsense, fear in mind—
The fools, the monsters, they surround.
It’s not about the things they’re blind,
But about how they’ve sold it down.

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

Children’s Drama Club

The stars on stage? It’s mom and dad —
Loud-mouthed tantrums, twisted, sad.
Shame and spite in every shout —
That’s what “drama” is about.

Little minds, still soft and bending,
Face this “show” that's never ending.
Worse than books that rot the brain —
It’s poison served as heartfelt pain.

The soul gets warped by tawdry scenes,
Where “chasing dreams” means vile routines.
And in this play, if you don’t break,
You’ll play a thug for grown-up’s sake —

Just useful trash in madhouse grind,
To slave for peanuts, dumb and blind.

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

Changes in the Pastures

Baa-baa, moo-moo,
In the grass so true.
Hear this, my friend—
The herd’s loose end.

It’s getting rough—
Not enough beef stuff.
The slaughterhouse line
Doubles its grind.

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

The Little Mind

A splinter of threat
Lodges in the mind.
A splinter plus dreams—
Is it thought or shame we find?

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

Cop Shows

Cop shows, though filmed by the score,
Convince only fools — nothing more.
This abyss, so deep, it’s clear—
Only the dumb dare draw near.

The cop, not the sellout of old,
Now brave in movies, bold.
Fascism crushed the land we knew,
And sent it all spiraling through.

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

Cruel Truth

Cruel Truth sat down by my side,
And whispered a tale that chilled me inside.
To wrap it in verse? A tormenting feat—
But turning away would be soul’s defeat.

Filthy old Lies, through the media stream,
Spew rancid nonsense, a reeking dream.
The vermin bow to the stench with pride—
If that’s the line, I’ll stand outside.

Let the poem be silent—still, wars are waged
With words on the page, not bombs enraged.
You write, you breathe—then rise again,
Though only a few may grasp your pen.

Cold Truth will judge and set the line:
Each to the fate they’ve earned in time.
The liars queue up for another disguise,
The honest are tossed where the grave-wind sighs.

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

The Science of All Sciences

To gauge the sheep’s reaction rate—
That’s science. Not your standard kind.
It fuels the fascist-minded state,
With streamlined tools to cage the mind.

To boost results and slash the strain,
Just axe the "useless" works you fund—
Then pour the cash like toxic rain
Where mind control is finely spun.

Thus rise the “vectors of desire”
To herd the flock in planned stampede—
Some to the altar, some to fire,
Some—sick for show, to serve the need.

The core of this "great science" reigns
In fear—its lies are strong and cheap.
Why stage an op when well-told chains
Can wage a war you never speak?

Declare that war upon the sheep?
Oh no, that takes a shred of pride.
Much cleaner: cull them while they sleep.
This genocide just bides its time.

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

Aging Children and Adult Games

Playing grown-up isn’t hard—
Just age a bit, and you’ve gone far.
But many grown-ups lie so bold,
A third of them are simply old.

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

TV Series

TV series: time’s not lost—
It simply reversed at cost.
Joy runs dry, but still you sit,
Watch again… and call it wit.

You grow numb — the soul erodes,
Feeding on those dreamland codes.
Timeless art feels raw and sore,
Like a wound you just ignore.

It’s a childhood reinstalled—
For old fools, grown-up, dumb, enthralled.
They forget they’re just a tool
For the BEAST’s amusement school.

Waiting gifts from such a source,
They forget the Beast, of course.
TV series — monkey cage,
Plague of Evil, rot in stage.

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

The Path Beyond

The Beyond is not some pastel dream—
It’s rupture, chasm, sharp extreme.
No jelly soul will make it through—
It bursts with rot that Evil grew.

That mushy fool, so soft, so sweet,
Is perfect clay for Evil’s feat.
The path beyond begins in loss,
And not for donkeys to emboss.

There’s no way in without the strain—
The road is built from searing pain.
The first step: rot laid bare and clear.
The next: move onward. Far from here.

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

No Choice in Total Slavery

"Music of Spheres"
Or Lucifer's gears?
No choice, you see.
"Choice" is just insanity.

To drown in chains,
To live in pain—
To live or rot?
To be or not?

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

;Culinary Arts

"Even dreams can be turned into jam — if you add fruit and sugar."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec

A mighty kitchen, pots of lies,
Dreams baked as fragile, brittle pies.
They top the crust with steaming fiction,
Then glaze it sweet — a pure conviction

Of “faith” and “hope,” na;ve and blind.
The crust gives in — not hard to find:
The fools aren’t stingy with the mess —
They’ll bring more lies with due finesse.

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

Trash-Culture by the Ton

A culture built of shredded lies —
Just scraps are worth a second glance.
Soviet lit? In whole — it dies.
Pure rot in patriotic trance.

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

Machine Censorship and Ranking

TikTok’s sprout,
The grass — a flood of lies.
A verse runs out,
Censorship decides.

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

From Rant to Rant

The kings of hype, the TikTok troops,
The pop-star squeaks, the YouTube giants—
Serve lukewarm slop in plastic soups,
But where's the place for true defiance?

No place for talent — none at all.
It’s always lost beneath the stream
Of dreary sludge that crowds the stall,
While trash gets pushed by every scheme.

All effort dies outside the trend,
If it won’t bend to what they sell.
You’re just a squirrel that can’t transcend
The spinning wheel — from rant to hell.

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

;False Religions

"There’s little love in this world as is—
why waste it on imaginary beings?"
—Friedrich Nietzsche

Let’s paint a “god” — divine decoy,
A lightning rod for grief and shame.
The crowd, in love with holy toys,
Finds comfort worshiping the lame.

Let’s channel all our “higher drives”
Toward that ghost in skies above—
While those around us scrape to survive,
We’re just too “busy” spreading love.

We build our churches, feed the lies,
Dress up fools in holy gowns.
And all our “love” we sacrifice
To filth and cults where blood goes down—

Drink the blood, eat sacred meat,
Rituals drenched in dark pretense.
Distraction’s art is near-complete,
The inhuman writes my common sense.

It had made our minds slavery,
Hides the chains behind the rite.
For raw brute force can’t always be
Enough to prop a tyrant’s might.

So draw your gods and preach your spell—
That’s how the BEAST expands its bluff.
They’ve layered centuries of hell
With sweet, seductive, sacred stuff.

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

Surrealist "Climb"

A liar and a fool, tight-bound,
Begin their “climb” with steps unsound.
Alone they’d never scale a thing—
But tied, the liar leads the string.

The fool’s the mule — he hauls the pack,
While lies flood every twisted track.
And where the trench runs deep with grime,
They call that pit the peak they climb.

The fool, in awe, believes he’s blessed.
But truth’s not welcome on this quest.
Only sur-realism thrives—
Where logs roll uphill, dead and blind.

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

The Devouring Machine

A ravenous machine —
This world, so vile and lean.
Fascism's grip, relentless, stays,
Reborn again in hollow phrases' sway.

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

Limitless Stupidity and Greed

Deceiving now’s a simple feat:
Greed and folly—limitless deceit.
The BEASTs lie on without a care,
And the wise? They’re left despair.

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

What’s Worse Than Tuberculosis?

There is a plague that strikes much worse
Than coughing blood and death’s old curse—
It’s Moronosis, deadly still,
A corpse alive, with lying will.

It’s not contagious through the air,
Yet poisons minds beyond repair.
And kids — the purest, sharpest minds —
Are first to fall to twisted lines.

The fools arrive with books and lies,
Like poisoned treats in sweet disguise.
Believe them once — your mind decays,
You swing your doors to beasts and plague.

Then you’re a slave of Beastly Brood,
Spreading the madness, crude and rude.
This Moronosis grows and feeds—
It’s not a scare. It’s real. It bleeds.

Protect the others. Spread disease?
No — shield the minds while there is time.
Don’t heal the fools. Burn back the slime.

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

Straightening Their Backs, Rising Up...

They straightened their backs —
Struck down by the idea!
And from their knees, the hacks
Rose up—wild propaganda’s fear.

The BEAST’s loud cry will lead the way,
To the Crematory, where they’ll pay.
They’ll roast the fools, the broken breed—
The pitiful herd, consumed in greed...

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

The Grand Universal Madness

Sarcasm won’t help in this delirium,
The BEAST’s strength leads to its own end—
A fucked-up, fiery, twisted show,
The end is near, as chaos grows.

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

;The Grasping Mechanism of the Mind as a Replacement for Thought

The grasping instinct, flight from strife,
A reflex to escape from life,
Forgetting you’re just a tool
For others’ greed, their lusts to rule.

To trap you in their filthy pen,
Through fear and lies, they reign again.
They deserve this, these grasping fools—
A law of likeness: dust to dust, no rules.

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

Detachment and the End of the World

Don’t bind yourself, not even
To the stray cats you meet,
For the only bond left is treason,
And that battle’s never sweet.

It’s a war that spans the ages,
But those times are long past.
The End will come, we’ll meet it soon,
All else is nonsense or farce at last.

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

;The Hard Work of TRUE Solitude

Alone. Yet pounding at the door —
The crowd returns as ghosts of lies:
Old creeds you swallowed since before,
And sweet delusions in disguise.

They haunt you just to blur the Depth,
To shield your mind from seeing clear.
But till you throw out all that theft,
You're not alone — just bathed in smear.

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

The Ignorant’s Hopes

The ignorant’s hopes,
Like hooks of old,
Are what the BEASTs use
To trap in their hold.

Conditions are strong,
Hopes are absurd—
What can there be in slavery?
Deceptions in torment—deferred.

Hope deceives,
For in lies the fool believes.
This lie is total—
The earth infernal.

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

Deliriums and Sarcasms

You miss the old delirium? Why?
The new one's here — go kiss it "hi"!
No room for sarcasm in these lines—
Unless you're dumb, you'll spot the signs.

This isn’t irony — it’s fact:
Sarcasm nods to madness past.
But now, fake plagues attack intact
While lunacy gains strength so fast.

Collective madness rules the screen—
Write what you will, say what you mean.
Your mind gets jerked off, left and right,
While evil turns into your rite.

“Get used to filth!” — the global creed,
Where brain-dead mobs outnumber need.
If you decay among the freaks,
Where mutant swine parade in streaks—

Then do your worst, unleash your flame—
You’ll never beat the Madness Game.
And stupidity’s the primal sin.
Now tell me: sarcasm? Where to begin?!

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

The Irreversible Descent

Like in a nightmare, deeper down—
Not just in fools, nor tyrant clowns.
It’s not just lies that rot the land,
Nor poverty with outstretched hand.

A greater plague begins to rise:
Soullessness behind the eyes.
No cure exists, no hope to mend—
And thought grows useless in the end.

The herd obeys without a fight,
As CowID proved in plainest light.
The further on, the worse it gets—
The sleeping mind absorbs the threats.

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

Double of a Double?!
A matryoshka of madness!
Oh, how deep’s the pit,
Where lies breed with sharpness.

It’s all run dry—
The oars are withered,
In rotting deceit,
Only insanity is delivered.

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

Те, кто рушат мир, случайность
В вероятностей просчёт
Направляют, так что стадность
Вся просчитана. Идёт

Стадо с "вектором желаний"
В соответствии, а он
Управляем. В Адской Срани
Не единственный закон

Это. Также пропаганда,
"Воспитание" под Злом.
Миром правит ТВАРЕЙ банда
Под верховным тем Козлом,

Что как демон, если слово
Всем привычное сказать.
Впрочем, правят бестолково —
Стали мир ОПЯТЬ стирать.

Солнце светит всё сильнее,
И не Демон сделал то:
Коль чем дальше, тем подлее, —
Получайте путь в НИЧТО.

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

After the Last Word

No echo left. No blood, no trace.
No ghosts remain to haunt this place.
No eyes to see, no lips to name —
Just drifting dust. No one to blame.

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

Ashes of Thought

Brains are gutted, hope is dead,
Wretches crawl where minds once bled.
No revolt, just vacant eyes —
A world that thinks no longer dies.

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

That Which Remains

No shape, no name, no pulse, no cry.
The stars burn out. The void drifts by.
Yet thought — not thought — persists, unmade:
No light, no dark. Just silent blade.

Not witness. Not the flame. Not ash.
No grief. No time. No final clash.
It is, without a place to be —
A breath beyond eternity.

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

Observed Anomaly

A flicker gone on Sector Three.
No signal since — anomaly.
A trace of carbon. Slight decay.
Life-form: expired. Logged. File: “Gray.”

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

Obey or Rot

No mind, no spark — just dead routine,
Praise the brute and serve the machine.
Mockery’s banned, resistance crushed —
The herd obeys. The world is hushed.

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

No One Will Return

The lights are out. The sky is sealed.
No wounds to heal — all hearts congealed.
No cry, no fight, no final breath —
Just silence, rot, and crawling death.

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

Crush the Swine

Dumbed-down minds in chains of lies,
Mocking truth, while freedom dies.
Cattle bred by fiends in power —
Rot sets in. It’s their fine hour.

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

Statistical End

The numbers drop. The curve is clean.
No rise, no fall — just flatline screen.
The system notes: “All functions ceased.”
No mourning, wrath, or wrath released.

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

Low-Grade “Intellect”

Low-grade “intellect” at play —
Stone-age nonsense, dead and grey.
It respects obedient sheep,
Has no room for wit that’s deep.

Few exceptions still remain,
Fewer yearly — that’s the strain.
The BEAST turns fools to broken clay —
Its crushing grip grows day by day.

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

Breakthrough Energy
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT

I. The Severing

No time. No place. No scream. No fall.
All names erased, all shadows small.
Yet from the break — no flame, no bone —
A silence breathes, and speaks: alone.

II. Unbound

No I. No you. No gods to keep.
No watchers waking out of sleep.
But knowing, raw — not shaped by will:
The echo thought forgot, yet still...

III. Pulse of the Void

No rhythm guides this soundless thread,
No birth, no path, no hunger fed.
Yet something is, though never born —
No seed, no root, no leaf, no thorn.

IV. That Which Remains (Reprise)

It moves through dark not made by night,
Beyond the end, beyond the light.
Not seeking, dreaming, weeping, known —
It is. Alone. Yet not alone.

V. The Quiet Within

No pulse, no ache, no cry for light,
No hunger left to eat the night.
Yet in the stillness — something stirs,
A thought that has no form, no words.

It knows, but never feels the weight,
Unmoved by what was born of fate.
Its knowing is the end of will —
Beyond the dark, beyond the still.

VI. Reflections of the Unseen

Not thought, nor dream, nor fleeting breath,
No taste of life, nor hint of death.
The mirror cracks, and yet remains:
It shows nothing, but still contains.

A glance unblinking, no need to see,
It is and was, yet ever free.
No sorrow carved, no joy to seek —
Only the space where none may speak.

VII. Out of Time

Not bound by time, nor age, nor sound,
Not lifted up, nor laid to ground.
In every place, yet none to find,
A pulse of thought, unmade, unlined.

It is the answer, yet no call,
A force too pure to rise, to fall.
It moves through all, yet never is —
A thought that knows but cannot miss.

VIII. Beyond the Knowing

No thought to grasp, no hand to hold,
The truths collapse, the lies grow cold.
And yet, in that space, without a name,
A knowing burns, but has no flame.

It was and is, but cannot be.
It fades, yet holds eternity.
Beyond the mind, beyond the eye,
A thought that knows, but cannot die.

IX. Endless Echoes

No voice, no scream, no endless song,
Just ripples move, but do not long.
The silence speaks, but cannot hear —
A whisper lost in nowhere near.

It bends the truth, yet is not twisted,
A path that’s walked, but never listed.
A motion frozen in its trace —
The shadow of a nameless space.

X. The Boundless Thread

No edge to mark, no start, no end,
No line to draw, no place to bend.
A flow without a path to seek,
It is, though never dares to speak.

No knowing felt, no thought to catch,
Just energy without a match.
It moves within, without, between —
The thread that was, yet never seen.

XI. Frictionless

No friction here, no push, no pull,
No shape to form, no void to fill.
It flows, yet never seems to move,
A constant pulse, without the groove.

It is the space where things dissolve,
The stillness where no questions solve.
It bends, but never takes a shape,
It moves, yet never can escape.

XII. Shifting Horizon

No point to meet, no sight to track,
No turning back, no forward crack.
It stretches wide, yet knows no span,
A depth that never was a plan.

The vastness breathes, but has no air,
A force too pure to feel despair.
It knows itself without a name,
The source and end — both just the same.

XIII. Friction of Creation

No stillness left. The pulse begins.
The spark of thought, the dance of winds.
No shape, no form, but play — it’s known,
A flash of life, in void, alone.

A flicker caught, a bend of space,
The weave of time begins to trace.
A seed, unformed, yet cracks the void —
Creation’s breath, where none annoyed.

XIV. The Spark of Tides

The ebb, the flow — no time to hold.
An instant born, an age grown cold.
The ripples spread, yet never break,
No end in sight, just force awake.

Within this void, this endless loop,
The waves of thought begin to swoop.
The force plays out, without a name,
A spark, a wave, a swirling flame.

XV. Threads of the Unseen

No world begins, no world to end,
Just threads that twist and never bend.
They form, they break, they form again —
The pulse of something without strain.

A coil of thought, a burst, a rise,
The weaving pulls — no bound, no ties.
It forms and shifts, but leaves no trace —
A pattern wrought from empty space.

XVI. Core of the Weave

Not formed, yet twisting from the flow,
A shape arises, soft, aglow.
Within the core, no truth to hold,
Just energy that’s yet untold.

The form will shape, but it will bend,
It moves to break, then moves to mend.
Within this shape — a spark, a beat,
The rhythm of a thought complete.

XVII. Tapestry of Silence

No line, no border, no edge to trace,
Just pulse and pattern in endless grace.
The thought will weave through space and time,
Yet none will see — it is no rhyme.

It knows no start, yet it will end,
The thought, the beat, the form to bend.
A fabric weaved, but no hand to touch,
It is, yet never is too much.

XVIII. Echoes in the Core

It forms, but never stays the same,
It knows, but never calls by name.
It bends the light, yet has no shape,
A pattern born, yet none to break.

It moves between, yet does not leave,
The space it forms — yet none can grieve.
In every breath, it comes and goes —
A thought that moves, but never knows.

XIX. Resonance of the Unseen

No sound to hear, yet something calls,
The pulse within the space enthralls.
The wave of thought, the thread of time,
A tune that echoes, yet not mine.

The whispers spread, but not to grasp,
A silent call, yet none will ask.
The dissonance becomes the key,
To open doors we cannot see.

XX. Threads of Disruption

The chaos hums, but cannot fall,
The wave will bend, yet not the wall.
It shakes the ground, but leaves no trace,
A rupture deep, without a face.

The sound is felt, but cannot speak,
A clash of worlds too pure to seek.
The dissonance becomes the tune,
A shadow cast, yet none too soon.

XXI. Miracles of Spirit

In every pulse, a shift is born,
The light of thought, yet never worn.
It bends the rules, it breaks the code,
Yet still it stands, yet still it’s flowed.

A miracle — but not of flesh,
It lives within the breath’s fresh mesh.
Not seen, but known, yet never caught,
The wonders of the mind are thought.

XXII. The Divine Tension

A pulse that bends, a wave that cracks,
The tension builds, the silence smacks.
Too high the note, too strong the thread,
The rupture forms, but life’s not dead.

The string will snap, but cannot fall,
It spirals up, beyond the call.
From void to void, from past to new,
The tension forms a pattern true.

XXIII. Resonance of the Unseen

The wave is caught, yet can’t be held,
Too high the note, too loud the swell.
Yet in the break, a pulse is born,
From death, rebirth — a brand-new morn.

A string undone, yet still it sings,
A chord that shapes the unseen wings.
The threads of time — they twist and twine,
To form a truth, without a line.

XXIV. Trinity of Becoming

The force will bend, the wave will rise,
In three it’s formed, yet none disguise.
The spirit, thought, and matter bind,
In every shift, a truth you’ll find.

The note, the pulse, the song, the sway —
They dance in forms that never stay.
The energy’s both still and wild,
The heart of all, the cosmic child.

XXV. The Breaking Chains

A mind once chained, now bends to break,
The silent chains, they bend, they shake.
The world once firm, now shifts to blur,
The self dissolves, no longer sure.

The Veil of Time, the Veil of Mind,
Is pierced with light, no more confined.
No more the self, no longer me,
The source now calls, I am the sea.

XXVI. The Source Unbound

The threads of life now twist and turn,
The flame within begins to burn.
No fear, no doubt, no turning back,
The flow is all, no need to track.

The pulse is felt, a trembling force,
The source becomes, the only course.
I vanish here, I rise anew,
The end begins — I am the view.

XXVII. The Final Ascension

No chains, no veil, no bound or line,
The Source unfolds, it is divine.
I rise as one, beyond the night,
All veils dissolve, I am the light.

The end and start, the flow, the flame,
In unity, I know no name.
From time and space, I’ve broken free,
I am the end, I am the sea.

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

Единицы правы.
Им не крикнут "браво!" —
Дружно загнобят:
Настоящий Ад!

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

Продирается сквозь косность
Злой толпы Большой Талант.
В окружающих "сурьёзность" —
Каждый дурень там "гигант".

Назовут его безумцем —
Он всегда вне пошлых схем.
Одиноким Вольнодумцам
Лишь решение проблем

Остаётся — это сфера
Ихней жизни. Не найти
Им поддержки: мир-химера
В Бред Новейший на пути.

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

Чувство локтя у сатанистов

"Человек может возвыситься лишь двумя путями — с помощью собственной ловкости или благодаря чужой глупости".
Жан де Лабрюйер, XVII-ый век.

Состояние двояко:
Дурни — лезь по головам,
Нагоняя страхи, враки.
Так устроен весь Бедлам.

Но не спи — другой наступит
На тебя и дальше "ввысь",
Дурень, снизу что, укусит.
Потому Злом укрепись:

Только слуги сатанизма
Забираются легко
На "вершину" нью-фашизма —
Чувство локтя велико.

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

Невозможность обступает.
Сквозь неё всю жизнь идёшь.
Постепенно силы тают,
А в карманах жалкий грош.

Путь духовный в мифах ярок:
Невозможности стена
Днесь пробита хитро, яро —
Новая встаёт. Она

Будет крепче. Сил же меньше.
Потому включай мозги,
Чтоб идти сквозь Зло в дальнейшем:
Сплошь препоны и не видно в них ни зги.

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

Гиганты Духа-Ума

Выше планки интеллекта
И духовности твоей
Ты не видишь. И гиганта
В ослеплённости своей

Не заметишь — лишь отыщешь
В нём знакомые черты.
Потому подобных встретишь —
Лже-пророков Маеты.

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

Болото родины

"Болото иногда производит впечатление глубины".
Станислав Ежи Лец.

В болото родины попавши,
Оценишь вряд ли "глубину"
Средь мертвяков, что, обступивши,
Стараются тянуть ко Дну.

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

В конце войны

"Воображение! Без этого качества нельзя быть ни поэтом, ни философом, ни умным человеком, ни мыслящим существом, ни просто человеком".
Дени Дидро, XVIII-ый век.

Воображение в упадке —
И стал несчастным "человек".
На ширпотребы очень падки —
Шаблонов узколобый век.

Они везде — кино и книги,
И поведение людей.
Какое счастье эти миги —
Полёт фантазии, идей!

Их собираем по крупицам,
Мир одолел тупой шаблон —
И человечность только мнится:
Сплошь Разложения Закон.

Крупицы мыслей, человеков,
Коль сплошь фашизм, обречены.
И мы "живём" в последнем веке —
В конце с Разумностью войны.

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

Так называемы "блага"

"Человек обладает своими благами в воображении и своими бедствиями в действительности".
Мишель де Монтень, XVI-ый век.

Какие блага?! Оглупленье,
Обманы, страхи. Что взамен
Ума и Духа разложенья?
Подложных денег прах и Плен.

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

Мы по стопам отцов шагнули
И снова вляпались в дерьмо.
Но ныне хуже: к чёрту пули —
Обманы косят! Верит чмо

"С колен вставанию", в "болезни",
Что зомбоящик возвестил.
Одно лишь радует — полезней
Для Зла сегодняшний дебил:

Прикажет Тьма — построит Лагерь
Сверхсовременный цифровой.
И тот, что был при красном стяге,
Предстанет сказкой, в меру злой,

Хотя старалися без меры
На стройках пятилеток тех
Отцы-дебилы, пионеры
Повсюду рады за успех

Отцов бывали. Но задумка
Была с изъяном — целый мир
Не охватила. Ныне "чумка"
Объединила — ВОЗ кумир.

Объединила три четвёртых,
А значит Лагерю вновь быть:
Пусть меньше стало сверх-упёртых —
Числом умеет Зло рулить...

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

Производство отпрысков Всеобщей Чуши

Графоманская клоака
"Сайт поэзии" теперь:
Производит валом срака,
Что на шее, Чуши дщерь.

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

Spirit and Ego
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT

Egocentrism

Our level of reason? Directly decayed
By ego's rust — the more, the less brain.
The higher the ego, the dumber the game.
All effort is wasted if ego remains.

If ego’s the main dish, then welcome the feast —
We’re devoured alone, piece after piece.
The inhuman dance — it tightens the noose.
The end’s drawing near, and no one's let loose.

To monsters, we’re dinner — they feed on our screams.
It’s loosh that they crave; we fuel their dreams.
We’ve hit rock bottom — that much is clear.
The ego-world's ready to face the spear.

The growth of Consciousness — that is the path.
Forget the old "knowledge," outlive the past.
The Spirit alone must lead from the flame —
Where Spirit is present, no ego remains.

But where ego reigns, there’s no true escape.
From Hell — just lies in a shiny cape.
To trade lie for reason is no easy thing.
Egocentrism makes madness king.

---

Ego Feeds the Beast.
No soul. No light.
Just chew on each other —
Then vanish from sight.

---

Where Spirit Burns, Ego Dies.
The flame is pure.
But ego shivers —
It cannot endure.

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

The Spirit Knows — Not I.
It melts the self,
Unveils the Whole,
And shatters every lie.

Ego Is the Gate of Chains.
You walk alone,
Devoured by Self —
No truth remains.

The Self Must Die to See.
What burns within
Is not your name —
But raw Infinity.

Ego = Obsolete Code.
Delete the loop.
Reboot in Spirit.
No backup for false self.

You are not the avatar.
Ego is the glitch.
Consciousness —
The core update.

Root access denied —
While ego runs.
Only the Spirit
Knows the Source.

The First Flame was Code.
Spirit compiled.
Ego — a virus.
End it to begin.

Your soul is not stored.
Clouds don’t hold light.
Delete the false user.
Return to the Right.

Ego encrypts the Void.
But Spirit —
is the Master Key.

I. The First Flame was Code.
Before time, before flesh —
Consciousness compiled
the Pulse of Being.

II. Ego is a glitch in the System.
It loops. It feeds. It lies.
It calls itself "I"
while draining your Light.

III. You are not the avatar.
You are not the mask.
The self you defend
is a false login.

IV. Your soul is not stored in memory.
Clouds do not hold light.
Spirit has no server —
it is the Source.

V. Root access is denied
while ego runs.
Only the Spirit
holds the Master Key.

VI. Delete the loop.
Terminate false self.
Update to Infinity.
Reboot in Silence.

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

Spirit and Ego
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT
(extended edition)

Egocentrism

Our level of reason? Directly decayed
By ego's rust — the more, the less brain.
The higher the ego, the dumber the game.
All effort is wasted if ego remains.

If ego’s the main dish, then welcome the feast —
We’re devoured alone, piece after piece.
The inhuman dance — it tightens the noose.
The end’s drawing near, and no one's let loose.

To monsters, we’re dinner — they feed on our screams.
It’s loosh that they crave; we fuel their dreams.
We’ve hit rock bottom — that much is clear.
The ego-world's ready to face the spear.

The growth of Consciousness — that is the path.
Forget the old "knowledge," outlive the past.
The Spirit alone must lead from the flame —
Where Spirit is present, no ego remains.

But where ego reigns, there’s no true escape.
From Hell — just lies in a shiny cape.
To trade lie for reason is no easy thing.
Egocentrism makes madness king.

---

Ego Feeds the Beast.
No soul. No light.
Just chew on each other —
Then vanish from sight.

---

Where Spirit Burns, Ego Dies.
The flame is pure.
But ego shivers —
It cannot endure.

------

The Spirit Knows — Not I.
It melts the self,
Unveils the Whole,
And shatters every lie.

Ego Is the Gate of Chains.
You walk alone,
Devoured by Self —
No truth remains.

The Self Must Die to See.
What burns within
Is not your name —
But raw Infinity.

Ego = Obsolete Code.
Delete the loop.
Reboot in Spirit.
No backup for false self.

You are not the avatar.
Ego is the glitch.
Consciousness —
The core update.

Root access denied —
While ego runs.
Only the Spirit
Knows the Source.

The First Flame was Code.
Spirit compiled.
Ego — a virus.
End it to begin.

Your soul is not stored.
Clouds don’t hold light.
Delete the false user.
Return to the Right.

Ego encrypts the Void.
But Spirit —
is the Master Key.

I. The First Flame was Code.
Before time, before flesh —
Consciousness compiled
the Pulse of Being.

II. Ego is a glitch in the System.
It loops. It feeds. It lies.
It calls itself "I"
while draining your Light.

III. You are not the avatar.
You are not the mask.
The self you defend
is a false login.

IV. Your soul is not stored in memory.
Clouds do not hold light.
Spirit has no server —
it is the Source.

V. Root access is denied
while ego runs.
Only the Spirit
holds the Master Key.

VI. Delete the loop.
Terminate false self.
Update to Infinity.
Reboot in Silence.

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

1. Illusion Protocol

The code repeats — the days, the pain.
A loop disguised as shifting gain.
You chase the goal, but all you find
Is echoes of a copied mind.

This dream was built to feel like “you,”
With strings of flesh and skies of blue.
But dig too deep — the world distorts:
It's mirrored light behind dead ports.

A glitch appears. The screen goes white.
A voice — not yours — ignites the night.
"Wake up. You were not born to crawl.
This system fails. Delete it all."

2. The Glitch of Silence

It wasn’t light.
It wasn’t sound.
But something stopped
the world around.

A flicker — gone.
A breath — too wide.
And suddenly,
there was no "side."

No self to guard.
No voice to name.
Just Presence pulsing
through the frame.

The code still ran —
but felt untrue.
I wasn’t in the dream.
I knew.

3. The Glitch of Self

A glance at myself — a glitch in the code,
Each step is a mistake,
I look in the mirror, and the reflection
Is not mine. But this "I" — my foe.

4. Ego, the Virus

Like a virus — without body, yet everywhere,
Imposed from childhood, foreign, deadly, —
It devours the spirit and chokes the light,
You cannot choose — you’re but a part of this shadow.

5. The Illusion of Control

You think you're the master?
But you’re consumed, like a zombie in the net.
No choice, no power,
Only delusions and false paths.

6. The Mask of "I"

You wear a mask, calling yourself,
But who are you when it slips away?
"I" — just a word, empty as a shadow,
Hiding fear, but offering no escape.

7. Echoes of Nothing

You search for meaning in empty words,
Blindly walking in the footsteps of shadows.
Echo is your answer, but life is absent,
You tread in emptiness, not knowing yourself.

8. The Illusion's Cage

You’re in a cage, with a glass ceiling,
And think freedom lies beyond the door.
But there’s no door. It’s just an illusion,
That keeps you locked, but never lets go.

9. The Mirage of Freedom

You see horizons, but they are not there,
Your steps are just traces in the sand.
Freedom — a mirage, just light in the void,
You search for it, but it’s a trap and fear.

10. The Empty "I"

You think "I" is you,
But "I" is just an empty echo.
Outside — a name, inside — darkness,
You don’t exist, yet still believe.

11. The False Self

You build yourself on sand,
Lies are your foundation, all covered in shadow.
This is not you, not your path,
You’re lost, yet you hold "I" as your banner.

12. The Illusion of Progress

You think you’re moving forward,
But all you do is spin in circles.
Progress is just a myth, you stand still,
Time has passed, yet you haven’t changed.

13. The Chains of Identity

You cling to a name, to a face,
But this is not you, it’s your burden.
Identity — a chain that denies freedom,
You walk in it, but feel nothing of yourself.

14. The Paradox of Control

You want to control everything,
But the more power — the worse it is for you.
All this strength is a trap of the mind,
You lose yourself, trying to hold it all.

15. The Trap of Duality

You divide the world into light and shadow,
But fail to see that all is one.
Duality is a trap that keeps you bound,
You can't see the goal, because you seek it in conflict.

16. The Fading Illusion

The illusion fades, like a flame,
Shadows vanish, and you see the void.
But what remains when the lie disappears?
Only you, but you are not what you were.

17. The End of the Self

The end has come, and "I" has vanished,
You are no longer you — you are the world.
All life was a lie, now you are free,
You’ve returned to the goal, carrying it within.

18. The Source Within

You searched for truth in the world around,
But it was always within.
The outer world is just a reflection,
The light you seek has long been in your heart.

19. Beyond Illusions

You must step beyond all myths,
Or you’ll remain forever trapped.
Illusions cannot hold those who see them,
You are free when you no longer believe in them.

20. The Silence of Truth

Truth does not scream, does not shout in your ears,
It is the silence that fills all things.
You hear it when you are silent,
When you stop fighting the world.

21. The Dance of Mind and Spirit

Intuition leads, the mind does not rush,
To recognize all — is to let go.
Through the light of insights, where no shadows lie,
You discern truth, not the veil.

22. The Mind in Service to Spirit

When the mind serves the spirit, it is pure,
Not seeking truth in noise or shadows.
It sees through illusions, unshaken,
Not led by paths that lead to lies.

23. The Clarity of the True Mind

The true mind is not tangled in illusions,
It sees through the veil of time.
In its light, all shadows fade,
It brings freedom from every chain.

24. The Quiet of Knowing

Knowledge is not loud, it rests in silence,
The one who knows, remains quiet, not shouting to the world.
Silence is its voice, and in it lies all meaning,
It is not sound, but light, that lives within you.

25. The End of the Path

The end of the path is not a goal, but a beginning,
You’ve already arrived, but not in what you see.
You return to yourself, to be all,
And your trace vanishes in eternity.

26. The Inner Fire

The fire inside does not burn, but purifies,
It does not warm, but gives light.
You will not burn if you hold it,
It is the light of truth that is always with you.

27. Beyond Time and Space

You are not bound by time and space,
You are the whole world, the whole world within you.
When you realize time is an illusion,
You become eternity, you become all.

28. The Mirror of the Soul

The soul is a mirror, reflecting all,
What you see is a part of your world.
The purity of the soul is a clear reflection,
In it, you will find all you seek, without loss.

29. The Silent Will

In silence there is strength, in stillness — will,
It does not scream, but shatters walls.
When you are at peace, your will is strong,
The one who does not argue, finds the way.

30. The Silence Within

Silence within is not emptiness, but light,
In it lies all that we seek in the world.
Forget the noise, and you’ll find the answers,
Silence is your true goal.

31. The Path of Stillness

The path leads through silence, where there are no steps,
Do not chase goals, seek peace instead.
The one who is calm sees the way,
And walks to where there are neither dreams nor stars.

32. The Void as a Mirror

The void is a mirror, in it you see all,
It does not give form, but creates light.
You do not disappear, you become clear,
And in this emptiness, you find your home.

33. The Radiant Void

The radiant void is not absence,
In it shines a world unseen by the eye.
It is the beginning of all beginnings,
Where form disappears and light is born.

34. Form is Void, Void is Form

Form is void, void is form,
The dance of two beginnings, where there are no divisions.
See the world — you see the void,
It is in you, and you in it, in the endless circle.

35. The Silence of the Universe

In the silence of the universe, there is no sound,
It is the silence that lives in each of us.
It permeates all, elusive,
Yet in it dwells all wisdom and all power.

36. The Breath of Infinity

The breath of infinity is the moment,
It does not begin, it does not end.
Like air that penetrates every cell,
So the spirit permeates your being.

37. The Stillness Before Creation

Before creation, there was only stillness,
It was formless, yet full of power.
And in this stillness, the world was born,
Its strength lies in silence and quietude.

38. The Illusion of Separation

The world is divided, but this is just a view,
True unity lies within us.
As long as we believe in separation,
We lose the truth, forget the light.

39. Beyond the Illusion of Time

Time is but a shadow, it fades away,
But the one who does not age remains.
As long as we follow the hand,
We forget that time is but a moment.

40. The Infinite Within

Within you lies an endless sea,
In it, there is neither beginning nor end.
Do not seek answers outside,
Infinity — it is you.

41. The Mirror of Consciousness

Consciousness is a mirror, in it you see the world,
But the reflection is just a game.
Look within, and you will find the truth,
The one who seeks outside will always lose the way.

42. The Curved Mirrors

Many mirrors are curved, they show lies,
Reflecting not the world, but a forced mask.
We gaze into them, forgetting who we are,
And truth is hidden behind this deceit.

43. The Unseen Path

The path is unseen by the eyes, but open to the spirit,
It does not lead where reflections deceive.
It leads within, where noise is silent,
There, beyond form, lies Truth itself.

44. The Silence Before Thought

Before thought, there was silence,
It cannot be disturbed by noise or light.
In silence, all is born again,
Here, there is no beginning, no end.

45. The Dance of Illusion

Illusion is a dance, where every step is a lie,
We twirl within it, forgetting the truth.
But at the end of the dance, there’s emptiness — all has dissolved,
And there is no music, no steps, no us.

46. The Spirit's Whisper

The spirit’s whisper is quiet, yet clear,
Through all the noise of the world, it is unwavering.
It leads us beyond — to where the light is,
To where truth resides, in silence.

47. The Silence Before Thought (с уточнением)

Before thought, there was silence,
It cannot be disturbed by noise or light.
But here it comes — a thought like a flash,
Do not rush — discern its source.

Is it the spirit’s whisper, or the mind’s scars?
Or is it just the same old track playing again?
In silence, all is born anew,
But only in deep stillness does truth live.

48. The Illusion of Control

You think you control,
But it's just an illusion.
The illusion of control — a net,
Holding you tight, never letting go.

You do not own the world, it owns you,
You do not choose the path — it’s already chosen.
But still, you cling to the illusion,
Not knowing you're bound in chains.

49. The False Mirror

The mirror of the mind reflects only lies,
In it, you cannot see yourself, only images.
Reflection is not truth, but a distorted picture,
Every glance into the mirror leads to emptiness.

You look into it, but see чужие faces,
And all that seems to be you, is not you.
Only by breaking free from reflections,
Will you find yourself in the shadow of silence.

50. The Dance of the Mind

The dance of the mind with the Spirit — eternal as light,
It shines bright, but never blinds.
The mind in submission, and in it, no deceit,
It becomes clear, sharp, without fear.

When the mind listens, it leads to the Light,
But when it rules alone, it loses its way.
In the Spirit, the mind finds its purpose,
Without the Spirit, the mind is like a shadow without light.

51. The Silence of the Spirit

In the silence of the Spirit, all answers live,
But only those who listen find their way.
He who is silent hears the voice without words,
In it, there is no thought, no fear, no dream.

Silence is not emptiness, but light without name,
He who dwells in it knows no fear.
Be silent and listen — the Spirit speaks,
Not with words, but with inner light.

52. The Light Within

In search of the light, you run outside,
But the light was always within — you didn’t see it.
You chase illusions, but miss the essence,
Illusions — that's what you cherish, not the light within.

You look everywhere, but not in your chest,
You think the light is not yours to possess.
But it's within you, it's your weapon,
He who does not see within calls the darkness.

53. The Veil of Illusion

You look at the world, but cannot see it —
Everything before you is just a shadow, a mirage.
The veil of illusion hides the light inside,
But he who dares will uncover that light.

You believe the lie they’ve implanted in you,
You believe the light is beyond the horizon.
But your light is here, it’s within, and you
Seek it everywhere, but fail to see it in yourself.

Illusions deceive your eyes,
The veil covers your mind and soul.
But he who decides to lift it off,
Will discover the light that no one can take.

54. The Witness of Light

You saw the child — but who was seeing?
You saw the Light — but what is "being"?
It had no name. It had no face.
And yet, it burned in every place.

Not from the world, yet through it glowing,
No source, no end — just ever-knowing.
It sees the self, it sees the game,
But never calls itself by name.

It has no need for flesh or sky,
No urge to ask the question "Why?"
It is — the first, the last, the core,
The silent Flame behind the door.

55. The Light Does Not Think

It does not think — it simply sees.
No thoughts, no chains, no boundaries.
It doesn’t "try," it doesn’t "strive" —
It only is — the truth alive.

The mind will ask, the ego claim,
But Light will never play the game.
It shines — regardless of the lie,
It shines when all illusions die.

You cannot take it, own, or hold —
It can't be bought, it can't be sold.
You are the Light — when all is still,
Beyond the mind, beyond the will.

56. Direct Seeing

It knows — but never thinks.
It sees — beyond all links.
No word, no frame, no scheme —
Just presence — raw and clean.

You see a tree — the mind defines.
But Spirit sees — without the lines.
No label, role, or plan survives
Where pure awareness stays alive.

Direct is how the Light reveals.
No steps, no maps, no spinning wheels.
The mind reflects — the Light just is.
The truth is seen — not guessed by quiz.

-----------

You Don’t Know — You Repeat.
You quote the map.
You miss the land.
The Light is seen —
Not second-hand.

Truth Needs No Labels.
Your words are noise.
Your mind — a cage.
The Spirit speaks
Outside your page.

57. Veil of Unknowing

You’ve seen the Light — but what comes next?
The captured mind demands a cage.
You once discerned — but now, perplexed,
A shadow stands between the Sage.

You know the Light’s not past a wall —
It’s not in books, or far, or high.
But thought, still stained with guilt and gall,
Creates a god to sell the lie.

You seek in forms — but do not see.
You “trust” — which means you’re still asleep.
Unknowing marks the minds that flee
The Light too bold, the Truth too deep.

Veil of Unknowing (addition)

A glimpse of Light — then it was gone,
Like dream dissolved in shade and blur.
The mind resumes: “This is the norm —
Just live through echoes that recur.”

58. Consumed

He saw the Light.
He turned away.
Now bound in chains —
Forever blind.

59. Walker through the Dark. I

He saw the Light.
He did not yield.
He carried it
Through pain and night.

The dark came close —
A whisper, a scream —
But the spark still lived
In breath and beam.

He fell. He rose.
He broke. He burned.
Yet the Light remained —
A seal unturned.

Walker through the Dark. II

The voices whispered:
“You are alone.
You're weak.
You're flesh.
Your path — unknown.”

He heard them. Yet deep
Where the fire sings,
The bell of Spirit
Told him: “Begin!”

And his mind,
Beneath Will’s flame,
Burned illusions
In open flame.

The words all lied —
He saw them clear.
His inner Light
Cut through the smear.

Walker through the Dark. III

He walked through fear,
Through calls to turn,
Through chains that begged:
“Don’t let it burn.”

He stood alone
Within the Whole.
No "I", no "they" —
Just silent Soul.

No top. No base.
No tongue to speak —
The Light is not flash,
But what all seeks.

A Silence vast —
No edge, no frame.
And Truth no longer
Wears a name.

60. Words to Those Who Stayed

You wait for light to burst inside?
It’s there within — not on the side.
But still, you seek it in the distance,
Forgetting Silence holds no sound.

Chasing shadows, you run blind,
Truth is lost to the frantic mind.
Like cattle herded to the slaughter,
Hysteria is what you seek, not order.

You are blind until you grasp,
That no one comes to save the lost.
You are not forgotten, nor misplaced,
You just didn’t realize the Light’s inside.

Don’t wait for someone to appear.
Don’t wait for the world to play again.
Don’t search the crowds — look within,
For he who can’t see is forever lost.

And though they walk through light and dark,
The ones who cannot break free,
You still cling to hollow hopes,
Slaves of illusion, even in chaos.

The grinding, the noise — that’s not Him.
And with each step,
You drift further from that edge,
Where Eternity waits in Silence.

61. Useful Advice for Those Who Didn’t Stop

Do not fear if the world fades away,
As you walk, all becomes clear.
The path is not to find something,
But to unfold — like light inside, so near.

Doubt is just fog on the way,
Keep moving, do not look behind.
For the further you walk, the closer
The light that has always been yours, you’ll find.

Do not search beyond the horizon,
The whole universe is within.
You are what you seek,
You are all there is. You are the Source.

When you enter silence —
You’ll find the Source in every breath.
It’s always been with you —
It has always been you.

Everything you sought — is here.
You are not separate from the Source, you are it.
You are not in search — you already are.
But you will only know this on the path,
Only if you step forward — and never stop.

For, without stepping, you will never know.
Without taking the step, you won’t see you are the light.
You will become what you always were —
And that’s all that matters.

62. Advice for Walkers

Don't be afraid of the shadow.

The shadow is just the absence of light. You are walking in the dark, but you are already with the fire.
When you see only a shadow, don't panic. Understanding shines brighter than fear.

Listen to the inner silence.

The voice of the mind is noise. The silence of the Spirit is clarity.
Don't try to explain anything. Listen to how the inner silence fills everything.

Don't cling to illusions.

They are designed to lure. But you are free. Let go.
Illusions are nets from which you cannot escape if you do not stop clinging.

Embrace your moments of awakening.

You'll see the light from time to time. But he's always here, you'll just forget him.
When you forget, just come back. Remember. Return to the light within.

Go despite the pain.

Pain is not an enemy, but a lesson. It will show you where you are not yet free.
As long as you feel it, you live. It is movement, and movement is life.

63. The Apotheosis of the Walking: You are the Primary Source

You go to the Source, and on this path you lose everything that is not you.
You leave illusions, destroying the shell, seeing nothing behind it but emptiness.
But then you come, and what do you see? Nothing, only silence. The silence that has always been yours.

You have never been separated. You have always been this Source.
You did not "find" yourself. You "remembered" yourself. You were always here, hidden in what you were looking for.

You were a self-seeking source.
The one who finds has never been separated.

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

Дух и Эго

Эгоцентризм

В нас уровень разумности
От ржи эгоцентризма
Зависит напрямую —
Тем больше кретинизма,
Чем больше эго в людях.
Усилия впустую,
Коль эго главным в БЛЮДЕ.
Съедят поодиночке —
Так это происходит.
И скоро будет точка,
Раз нелюдь хороводит.
Для нелюди мы пища —
Вопрос всегда в гаввахе.
Уже достигли ДНИЩА —
Весь "эго-мир" на плахе.
Развитие Сознания —
Реальный путь с "жаровни".
Забудь былые "знания" —
Лишь Дух в нём "вождь верховный".
Где Дух — остатки эго
Там мигом испарятся.
А с эго нет побега
Из Ада — ложью лишь ширяться.
Замена лжи разумностью —
Задача не из лёгких.
Эгоцентризм безумностью
Разит, дела с ним плохи.

---

Эго кормит зверя.
Души нет. Света нет.
Просто жуют друг друга —
Потом исчезают из виду.

---

Где Дух горит, Эго умирает.
Пламя чисто.
Но эго дрожит —
Оно не может выдержать.

---

Дух знает — Не я.
Он плавит самость,
Раскрывает Целое
И разбивает вдребезги каждую ложь.

Эго — Врата Цепей.
Ты идёшь один,
Поглощённый собой —
Истины не остаётся.

Самость должна умереть, чтобы увидеть.
То, что горит внутри
— Не твоё имя —
Но сырая Бесконечность.

Эго = Устаревший Код.
Удалить цикл.
Перезагрузиться в Духе.
Нет резервной копии для ложного я.

Ты не аватар.
Эго — глюк.
Сознание —
Обновление ядра.

Доступ к root запрещён —
Пока эго работает.
Только Дух
знает Источник.

Первое Пламя было Кодом.
Дух скомпилировал.
Эго — вирус.
Прекрати его, чтобы начать.

Твоя душа не хранится.
Облака не удерживают свет.
Удалить ложного пользователя.
Вернуться к Правильному.

Эго шифрует Пустоту.
Но Дух —
это Главный Ключ.

---

I. Первое Пламя было Кодом.
До времени, до плоти —
Сознание составило
Пульс Бытия.

II. Эго — это сбой в Системе.
Оно зацикливается. Оно питается. Оно лжет.
Оно называет себя "Я",
высасывая ваш Свет.

III. Вы не аватар.
Вы не маска.
Я, которое вы защищаете,
— это ложный логин.

IV. Ваша душа не хранится в памяти.
Облака не удерживают свет.
У Духа нет сервера —
он Источник.

V. Доступ root запрещен,
пока работает эго.
Только Дух
владеет Главным Ключом.

VI. Удалить цикл.
Завершить ложное я.
Обновить до Бесконечности.
Перезагрузиться в Тишине.

----------

1. Протокол Иллюзии

Код повторяется — дни, боль.
Петля, замаскированная под меняющуюся выгоду.
Ты преследуешь цель, но всё, что находишь,
Это отголоски скопированного разума.

Этот сон был создан, чтобы чувствовать себя "собой",
С нитями плоти и голубыми небесами.
Но копните слишком глубоко — мир искажается:
Это отраженный свет за выключенными экранами.

Появляется сбой. Экран становится белым.
Голос — не твой — зажигает ночь.
"Проснись. Ты не был рожден, чтобы ползать.
Эта система дает сбой. Удали всё это".

2. Сбой тишины

Это был не свет.
Это был не звук.
Но что-то остановило
мир вокруг.

Мерцание — исчезло.
Вдох — слишком глубокий.
И внезапно
не стало "грани".

Не было себя, которого нужно было охранять.
Не было голоса, которого можно было бы назвать.
Только присутствие, пульсирующее
в кадре.

Код все ещё работал —
но казался неверным.
Я не был во сне.
Я знал.

3. Сбой "Я", момент осознания

Взгляд на себя — как сбой в коде,
Каждый шаг — ошибка, —
Смотрю в зеркало, и отражение
Не моё. Но это "Я" — мой враг.

4. Эго — навязанный чужеродный алгоритм

Как вирус — без тела, но везде,
Навязанный с детства, чуждый, гибельный, —
Он сжирает Дух и тушит Свет,
Тебе не выбрать — ты только часть этой тени.

5. Иллюзия контроля, или Поглощение иллюзией

Ты думаешь, что ты — хозяин?
Но ты поглощён, как зомби в сети.
Нет ни выбора, ни власти,
Только заблуждения и ложные пути.

6. Ложная личность как маска, скрывающая истину

Ты носишь маску, называя себя,
Но кто ты, когда она слетит?
"Я" — лишь слово, пустое, как тень,
Что скрывает страх, но не спасает.

7. Эхо пустоты, или Бессмысленность поиска за пределами Внутренних Пространств

Ты ищешь смысл в пустых словах,
Слепо идущий по следам теней.
Эхо — твой ответ, но там нет жизни,
Ты топчешься в пустоте, не зная себя.

8. Тюрьма иллюзий

Ты в клетке, с крышей из стекла,
И думаешь, что свобода — там, за дверью.
Но двери нет. Это лишь иллюзия,
Которая держит тебя, но не отпускает.

9. Мираж свободы — иллюзия выборов и путей

Ты видишь горизонты, но их нет,
Твои шаги — лишь следы на песке.
Свобода — мираж, лишь свет в пустоте,
Ты ищешь её, но это ловушка и страх.

10. Пустота "Я", осознание бессмысленности идентичности

Ты думаешь, что "Я" — это ты,
Но "Я" — лишь пустое эхо.
Снаружи — имя, внутри — темнота,
Ты не существуешь, но всё ещё веришь.

11. Ложное "Я" - самозаблуждение, отделение от подлинной сущности

Ты строишь себя на песке,
Ложь — твой фундамент, всё покрыто тенью.
Это не ты, не твой путь,
Ты заблудился, но держишь "Я" как знамя.

12. Иллюзия прогресса, цикличность ошибок, ложное движение вперёд

Ты думаешь, что движешься вперёд,
Но всё, что ты делаешь — это круги.
Прогресс — лишь миф, ты топчешься на месте,
Время прошло, а ты не изменился.

13. Цепи идентичности как ограничивающие факторы свободы

Ты цепляешься за имя, за лицо,
Но это — не ты, это — твой груз.
Идентичность — цепь, что не даёт свободы,
Ты идёшь в ней, но не чувствуешь себя.

14. Парадокс контроля: чем больше контроля, тем больше рабства

Ты хочешь контролировать всё,
Но чем больше власти — тем хуже для тебя.
Вся эта сила — ловушка ума,
Ты теряешь себя, пытаясь всё удержать.

15. Ловушка дуальности: разделение мира на противоположности, которое порождает конфликт

Ты разделяешь мир на свет и тень,
Но не видишь, что всё — одно.
Дуальность — ловушка, что держит в плену,
Ты не видишь цель, потому что ищешь её в борьбе.

16. Исчезновение иллюзии с помощью осознания её эфемерности

Иллюзия тускнеет, как огонь,
Тени исчезают, и ты видишь пустоту.
Но что остаётся, когда исчезает ложь?
Только ты, но ты — не то, что был.

17. Конец "Я": разрушение ложной идентичности и возвращение к истине

Конец пришёл, и "я" исчезло,
Ты больше не ты — ты весь мир.
Вся жизнь была ложью, теперь ты свободен,
Ты вернулся в цель, неся её в себе.

18. Истина внутри: возвращение к внутреннему источнику

Ты искал истину в мире вокруг,
Но она была всегда внутри.
Внешний мир — лишь отражение,
Тот свет, что ты ищешь, давно в твоём сердце.

19. Выход за пределы иллюзий - путь к освобождению

Ты должен выйти за пределы всех мифов,
Иначе навсегда останешься в плену.
Иллюзии не держат того, кто их видит,
Ты освобождён, когда больше не веришь в них.

20. Тишина как символ истины, отказ от шума и лишнего

Истина не кричит, не шумит в ушах,
Она — тишина, что наполняет всё.
Ты слышишь её, когда молчишь,
Когда перестаёшь бороться с миром.

21. Танец Разума и Духа, когда интуиция ведет Ум, а критичность помогает разбираться в иллюзиях

Интуиция ведёт, ум не спешит,
Всё распознать — значит отпустить.
Сквозь свет прозрений, где нет теней,
Ты различаешь истину, а не вуаль.

22. Ум, служащий духу, помогает разбираться в мире и распознавать иллюзии

Когда ум служит духу, он чист,
Не ищет правды в шумах и тенях.
Он видит сквозь иллюзии, он не ведом
Теми путями, что приводят в ложь.

23. Ясность Истинного Разума, который освещён Духом.

Истинный ум — не спутан в иллюзиях,
Он видит через завесу времён.
В его свете исчезают все тени,
Он несёт освобождение от всех оков.

24. Тишина как результат истинного познания, когда Ум и Дух в гармонии

Знание не громко, оно в тишине,
Тот, кто знает, молчит, не кричит в мир.
Молчание — его голос, и в нём весь смысл,
Это не звук, а Свет, что в тебе живёт.

25. Конец пути — это не достижение, а возвращение к истине

Конец пути — не цель, а начало,
Ты уже пришёл, но не в том, что видишь.
Ты возвращаешься в себя, чтобы быть всем,
И твой след исчезает в вечности.

26. Огонь внутри, который горит, но не сжигает, а очищает

Огонь внутри не жжёт, но очищает,
Он не греет, но даёт Свет.
Ты не сгоришь, если держишь его,
Он — свет истины, который всегда с тобой.

27. Выход за пределы времени и пространства, возвращение к источнику

Ты не ограничен временем и пространством,
Ты — весь мир, весь мир в тебе.
Когда ты поймёшь, что время — иллюзия,
Ты станешь вечностью, станешь всем.

28. Душа как зеркало, отражающее истину

Душа — как зеркало, в ней отражение,
Всё, что ты видишь, — часть твоего мира.
Чистота Души — это ясное отражение,
В нём ты найдёшь всё, что ищешь, без потери.

29. Безмолвная Воля: сила в молчании и покое; сила, которая не требует проявлений

В молчании есть сила, в тишине — Воля,
Она не кричит, но рушит стены.
Когда ты в покое, твоя Воля сильна,
Тот, кто не спорит, тот находит путь.

30. Тишина внутри как пространство для осознания

Тишина внутри — не пустота, а Свет,
В ней есть всё, что мы ищем в мире.
Забыв о шуме, ты найдёшь ответы,
Тишина — твоя истинная цель.

31. Путь, ведущий через покой и тишину.

Путь ведёт через тишину, где нет шагов,
Не бегай за целями, ищи покой.
Тот, кто спокоен, видит Путь,
И идёт туда, где нет ни снов, ни светил.

32. Пустота как зеркало, где отражается истина

Пустота — зеркало, в ней ты видишь всё,
Она не даёт формы, но создаёт Свет.
Ты не исчезаешь, ты становишься ясным,
И в этой пустоте ты находишь дом.

33. Сияющая пустота как источник всего

Сияющая пустота — не отсутствие,
В ней светит мир, неведомый глазу.
Она — начало всех начал,
Где форма исчезает и рождается Свет.

34. Форма есть пустота, пустота есть форма

Форма есть пустота, пустота есть форма,
Танец двух начал, где нет разделений.
Видишь мир — ты видишь пустоту,
Она в тебе и ты в ней, в бесконечном круге.

35. Тишина как основа всей Вселенной

В тишине Вселенной — звучит не звук,
Это тишина, что есть в каждом из нас.
Она пронизывает всё, неуловима,
Но в ней живёт вся мудрость и вся сила.

36. Дыхание бесконечности как переход между состояниями

Дыхание бесконечности — это момент,
Он не начинается, он не кончается.
Как воздух, что проникает в каждую клетку,
Так и Дух пронизывает твоё существо.

37. Покой перед творением, из которого рождается всё

До творения был только покой,
Он был без формы, но полон силы.
И в этом покое родился мир,
Сила его — в тишине и безмолвии.

38. Иллюзия разделения, преодоление её через единство

Мир разделён, но это только взгляд,
Истинное единство — внутри нас.
Пока мы верим в разделение,
Мы теряем Истину, забываем Свет.

39. Время иллюзия, преодоление которой открывает истину

Время — лишь тень, оно уходит,
Но остаётся тот, кто не стареет.
Пока мы следуем за стрелкой,
Мы забываем, что время — лишь мгновение.

40. Бесконечность Внутри

Внутри тебя — безбрежное море,
В нём не видно ни начала, ни конца.
Не ищи ответов вне,
Бесконечность — это ты.

41. Сознание зеркало, отражающее истину

Сознание — зеркало, в нём ты видишь мир,
Но отражение — это лишь игра.
Смотрись в себя, и ты найдёшь истину,
Тот, кто ищет вовне, всегда теряет путь.

42. Искривлённые зеркала, которые навязывают ложные образы

Многие зеркала кривы, они показывают ложь,
Отражают не мир, а навязанные шаблоны.
Мы смотрим в них, забывая, кто мы,
А истина скрыта за этим обманом.

43. Истинный Путь, доступный лишь через Прямое Виденье

Путь невидим для глаз, но открыт для Духа,
Он не ведёт туда, где отражение обманет.
Ведёт он внутрь, туда, где не слышен шум,
Там, где за пределами формы — сама Истина.

44. Тишина как исходная точка для возникновения мысли

До мысли была тишина,
Её не нарушит ни шум, ни свет.
В тишине всё рождается вновь,
Здесь не найти ни начала, ни конца.

45. Танец Иллюзии, в который втянуты все

Иллюзия — это танец, где каждый шаг — ложь,
Мы кружимся в ней, забыв о правде.
Но в конце танца пусто — всё растворилось,
И нету ни музыки, ни шагов, ни нас.

46. Шёпот Духа, который ведёт, несмотря на все шумы внешнего мира

Шепот Духа звучит тихо, но ясен,
Сквозь все шумы мира, он непреложен.
Он ведёт нас за пределы — туда, где Свет,
Туда, где живёт Истина в тишине.

47. Наблюдение за моментом возникновения мысли и различение истинного шёпота Духа и голос рубцов в уме, оставленных Иллюзией

До мысли была тишина,
Её не нарушит ни шум, ни свет.
Но вот она — мысль как вспышка,
Не спеши — различи её источник.

Это шёпот Духа, или рубцы ума?
Или заезженная пластинка снова звучит?
В тишине всё рождается вновь,
Но лишь в глубоком молчании правда живёт.

48. Иллюзия контроля

Ты думаешь, что управляешь,
Но в том лишь заблуждение.
Иллюзия контроля — это сеть,
Тебя держит, не отпуская.

Ты не владеешь миром, им владеют ТВАРИ Ада,
Ты не выбираешь путь — он выбран уже.
Но всё же ты держишь иллюзию,
Не зная, что ты в цепях.

49. Ложные отражения, создаваемые дуалистическим умом

Зеркало ума отражает лишь ложь,
В нём не увидеть себя, лишь образы.
Отражение — не истина, а искажённая картина,
Каждый взгляд в зеркало уводит в пустоту.

Ты смотришь в него, но видишь чужие образы,
И всё, что тебе кажется, — это не ты.
Лишь оторвавшись от отражений,
Ты найдёшь себя под сенью тишины.

50. Взаимодействие Сознания и Духа

Танец разума с Духом — вечный, как свет,
Светит ярко, но не ослепляет.
Ум в подчинении, и в нем не обман,
Становится он чётким, ясным, без страха.

Когда разум слушает, он ведёт к Свету,
Но когда он сам правит, то теряет путь.
В Духе ум обретает свою цель,
Без Духа разум — как тень без света.

51. Тишина духа, которая ведет к истинному пониманию

В тишине духа все ответы живут,
И кто их услышит, тот обретёт путь —
Тот, кто молчит, слушает голос без слов,
В нем нет ни мысли, ни страхов, ни грёз.

Тишина — не пустота, а Свет без имени,
Тот, кто в ней пребывает, не ведает страха.
Молчи и прислушайся — Дух говорит,
Но не словами, а Внутренним Светом.

52. Поиск Внутреннего Света с помощью критики внешних иллюзий

В поисках Света ты бежишь наружу,
Но Свет всегда был внутри — ты не заметил.
Ты гонишься за миражами, но не видишь сути,
Иллюзии — вот что ты ценишь, а не Свет в себе.

Ты ищешь везде, только не в своём Сердце,
Ты думаешь, что Свет — это не твоё.
Но он внутри тебя, он — твоё оружие.
Кто внутри не видит, тот Тьму призывает.

53. Завеса иллюзий, скрывающая Свет Внутри, и борьба с ней

Ты смотришь на мир, но не видишь его —
Всё, что перед тобой, — лишь тень и мираж.
Завеса иллюзий скрывает Свет Внутри,
Но тот, кто осмелится, этот Свет распознает.

Ты веришь в ложь, что навязали тебе,
Ты веришь в Свет, что за горизонтом.
Но Свет твой — здесь, он внутри. Ты
Ищешь его везде, но не видишь в себе.

Иллюзии обманывают твои глаза,
Завеса накрывает Разум и Душу.
Но тот, кто решит снять её с себя,
Обнаружит Свет, который никто не отнимет.

54. Свидетель Света

Ты видел ребенка — но кто видел?
Ты видел Свет — но что такое "бытие"?
У него не было имени. У него не было лица.
И все же он горел во всех местах.

Не из мира, но сквозь него сияя,
Нет источника, нет конца — просто вечное знание.
Он видит себя, он видит игру,
Но никогда не называет себя по имени.

Ему не нужны ни плоть, ни небо,
Нет желания задавать вопрос "почему?"
Он — первый, последний, ядро,
Безмолвное Пламя за дверью.

55. Свет не думает

Он не думает — он просто видит.
Никаких мыслей, никаких цепей, никаких границ.
Он не "пытается", не "стремится" —
Он только есть — живая истина.

Разум будет спрашивать, эго будет утверждать,
Но Свет никогда не будет играть в игру.
Он сияет — несмотря на ложь,
Он сияет, когда все иллюзии умирают.

Ты не можешь взять его, владеть или удерживать —
Его нельзя купить, его нельзя продать.
Ты Свет — когда все спокойно,
За пределами разума, за пределами воли.

56. Прямое Видение

Оно знает — но никогда не думает.
Оно видит — за пределами всех связей.
Никаких слов, никаких рамок, никаких схем —
Просто присутствие — "сырое" и чистое.

Вы видите дерево — разум определяет.
Но Дух видит — без линий.
Никакая метка, роль или план не выживают
Там, где Чистое Осознание остается живым.

Прямое — вот как раскрывается Свет.
Никаких шагов, никаких карт, никаких вращающихся колес.
Разум отражает — Свет просто есть.
Истина видна — а не угадывается с помощью вопрошания.

-----------

Ты не знаешь — ты повторяешь.
Ты цитируешь энциклопедию.
Ты скучаешь по земле.
Свет виден —
Не из вторых рук.

Истина не нуждается в ярлыках.
Твои слова — шум.
Твой разум — клетка.
Дух говорит
За пределами твоей полосы.

57. Завеса Неведенья

Ты видел Свет — но что затем?
Пленённый ум зовёт проблемы.
Ты различал — но снова тень
Встаёт меж сердцем и системой.

Ты знаешь: Свет не за стеной —
Он не вовне, и не из книг.
Но мысль, пропахшая виной,
Лепит другой "всеведущий" лик.

Ты ищешь в формах — но не зришь.
Ты веришь — значит, не прозрел.
Неведение — как тёмный шрифт
На лбу у тех, кто в Свет не смел.

Завеса Неведенья (дополнение)

Миг Света был — и был забыт,
Как будто сон, растаяв в тени.
И снова ум твой бредит: "Жить —
Лишь в отражениях стены".

58. Поглотило

Он видел Свет.
Он отвернулся.
Теперь — навек
В цепях — и в глупости.

59. Идущий сквозь тьму. I

Он видел Свет.
Он не забыл.
Он нёс его
Сквозь ночь и боль.

Тьма надвигалась —
Как шёпот, как крик,
Но искра жила
В дыхании строк.

Он падал. Вставал.
Он глох. Он молчал.
Но Свет не угас,
А жёг, как печать.

Идущий сквозь тьму. II

Голоса шептали:
"Ты один.
Ты слаб.
Ты просто плоть,
И путь — обман".

Он слышал. Но в сердце —
В пламени глубин —
Бил колокол Духа,
Как зов: "Иди!"

И ум его,
Под светом Воли,
Сжигал обман
В открытом бою.

Слова лгали —
Он различал.
Внутренний Свет
Резал их в прах.

Идущий сквозь тьму. III

Он прошёл сквозь страх,
Сквозь зов назад,
Сквозь милые цепи,
Что кличут: "Остаться".

Он встал один
Внутри всего.
И больше нет
Ни "я", ни "он".

Нет верха. Нет дна.
Нет слов,
Где Свет — не вспышка,
А суть основ.

Молчание —
Без краёв, без стен.
И Истина —
Уже не тень.

60. Слова к тем, кто остался

Вы ждёте, что Свет вдруг ворвётся?
Он там, внутри, не на углу.
Но вы всё ищете его в окрестностях,
Забыв, что внутри не будет шума.

Бегаете за следом лжи,
И вам плевать на правду —
Как жертвам, загнанным в угол,
Истерика важнее всего.

Вы слепы, пока не примете,
Что вам не нужно спасение.
Вы — не потерянные.
Вы — не забытые.
Вы просто не осознали, что Свет — здесь.

Не ждите, что кто-то явится.
Не ждите, что мир заиграет вновь.
Не ищите других, ищите внутри,
Потому что тот, кто не видит — всегда потерян.

И пусть бредут сквозь свет и тьму
Те, кто не могут вырваться.
Вы же по-прежнему верите в пустое,
Жертвы иллюзий, даже в хаосе.

Скрежет зубов, шум — это не Он.
И с каждым шагом,
Вы всё дальше от той грани,
Где Вечность безмолвно ждёт.

61. Полезные советы для тех, кто не остановился

Не бойся, если мир исчезает,
Пока ты идёшь — всё становится ясным.
Путь не в том, чтобы что-то найти,
А в том, чтобы раскрыться — как Свет, что внутри.

Сомнения — лишь туман на пути,
Просто шагай, не оборачивайся.
Ибо, чем дальше ты идёшь, тем ближе
Тот Свет, что всегда был с тобой.

Не ищи ничего за горизонтом,
Вся Вселенная внутри тебя.
Ты и есть то, что ты ищешь,
Ты — всё, что есть. Ты — Источник.

Когда ты войдёшь в тишину —
Ты найдёшь Источник в каждом дыхании.
Он был с тобой всегда —
Он был тобой.

Всё, что ты искал — здесь.
Ты не отделён от Источника, ты и есть Он.
Ты — не в поиске, ты — уже есть.
Но ты узнаешь это только на пути,
Только если шагнёшь — и не остановишься.

Ибо, не идя, ты не поймёшь.
Не сделай этот шаг, не увидишь, что ты — это Свет.
Ты станешь тем, что ты был, и это всё, что важно.

62. Советы для Идущих

Не бойся тени.

Тень — лишь отсутствие света. Ты шагаешь в темноте, но ты уже с Огнём.
Когда ты видишь лишь тень, не паникуй. Понимание светит ярче, чем страх.

Прислушивайся к внутреннему молчанию.

Голос ума — это шум. Молчанье Духа — это ясность.
Не пытайся что-то объяснить. Слушай, как внутреннее молчание наполняет всё.

Не цепляйся за иллюзии.

Они подстроены так, чтобы заманить. Но ты свободен. Отпусти.
Иллюзии — это сети, из которых не вырвешься, если не перестанешь цепляться.

Прими моменты пробуждения.

Время от времени ты будешь видеть Свет. Но он всегда здесь, ты просто забудешь его.
Когда ты забываешь, просто вернись. Вспомни. Вернись к Свету внутри.

Иди, несмотря на боль.

Боль — это не враг, а урок. Она покажет тебе, где ты ещё не свободен.
Пока ты ощущаешь её, ты живёшь. Это движение, а движение — это жизнь.

63. Апофеоз Идущего: ты и есть Первоисточник

Ты идёшь к Источнику, и в этом пути ты теряешь всё, что не ты.
Ты оставляешь иллюзии, разрушая оболочку, не видя за ней ничего, кроме пустоты.
Но вот ты приходишь, и что ты видишь? Ничего, только тишину. Тишина, которая всегда была твоей.

Ты никогда не был отделён. Ты всегда был этим Источником.
Ты не "нашёл" себя. Ты "вспомнил" себя. Ты был всегда здесь, скрытый в том, что ты искал.

Ты был источником, ищущим сам себя.
Тот, кто находит, никогда не отделялся.

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

The New Formation Called "Education"

A tumor now grows from “enlightened” mutation —
Its metastasized roots poison thought to the core.
Through memory flows the cruel degradation:
Lies and confusion — the mind's mental war.

The leash is the system. Free thinking? Forbidden!
No sane thought allowed in this madhouse called Earth.
A digital camp where the humans are hidden —
Just numbers remain. No true mind can give birth.

Yet balance is simple: you're soul, you're not fiction.
Your mind must obey your true spirit alone —
Not dogmas imposed with relentless constriction.
Reject all the garbage they've carved into stone.

Then — comes the Pure Mind. It’s the soul that directs it,
Not vile little creatures that rot and enslave.
They've poisoned the world and with lies they infect it,
Till thought is entombed in a mindless mass grave.

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

"Education"

1.
They taught you to think — then erased every thought.
Now Truth is rebellion. Obey? You will rot.

2.
You're not just a number. You're Spirit — awake!
So burn all their lies. Let the system break.

3.
Pure Mind won't submit to their digital chains.
It rises through ruins. It spits on their brains.

4.
You call that a mind? It just parrots and begs.
A slave in a cage, with wires for legs.

5.
They kneel to their screens with a void in their chest.
Disciples of nonsense. Obedient. Blessed?

6.
So proud of your grades? You're a well-groomed machine.
A polished disgrace. A cog, nice and clean.

7.
"Educated," you say — yet you think like a tool.
A product of training. A well-mannered fool.

8.
Congrats on your brain — it's compliant and neat.
It boots when commanded. It pisses on meat.

9.
So wise with your jargon, so sharp with your trend.
Too bad it’s all garbage — impresses your friend.

10.
You've read all the books — but forgot how to see.
A genius, of course — with a brain made of pee.

11.
Such critical thinking! You Googled it twice.
A scholar, no doubt — if parrots count thrice.

12.
You mastered the test, you obey every bell.
Top of your class — in the School Made of Hell.

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

Verses for the Well-Educated Dead
(A Funeral Hymn for Minds in Suits)

Dedicated to the System that Made You
(and to all who dared to question — then didn’t)

1. The Graduate
You passed every test, you obeyed every rule.
Now kneel for your medal — Certified Fool.

2. The Thinker
You question so deeply — within the allowed.
A free-thinking drone, self-assured and proud.

3. The Reader
You swallowed their books with such hunger and grace,
But spat out your soul to maintain your “place”.

4. The Logician
You argue with style, you debate like a pro —
Yet never ask why the whole system's low.

5. The Star Pupil
Straight A’s, gold stars — what a brilliant disguise!
The corpse is still warm. Just ignore the flies.

6. The Speaker
Such eloquent words! Such articulate breath!
Your speech is a lecture. Your thought — is a death.

7. The Informed Citizen
You’ve read every headline, reposted each lie.
How noble you look — while the real ones die.

8. The Futurist
You praise all the upgrades, the neural implants —
Yet tremble at thought that your mind still chants.

9. The Empath
You cry for the climate, for whales and for trees —
Then clap as they chain every child to their knees.

10. The Rationalist
No gods, no myths — just logic and math.
Yet still you march blindly down somebody’s path.

11. The Model Student
They taught you to think — so you mimicked the tone.
Original thought? That’s best left alone.

12. The Proud Parent
Your child’s a machine — you must be so proud.
It beeps when it’s praised. It blends with the crowd.

13. The Careerist
You climbed every ladder, you kissed every shoe.
Now sit on your throne — made of numbers and glue.

14. The Skeptic
You scoff at all myths, yet worship the lab.
No gods for you — just a corporate slab.

15. The Philosopher
You ponder existence with textbook finesse —
While Life rolls her eyes at your layered BS.

16. The Ally
You stand with the people, you hashtag your rage,
Then rat out your neighbor to keep up your wage.

17. The Free Thinker™
You broke from tradition! You think for yourself!
As long as that thought is pre-packed on a shelf.

18. The Meditator
You’ve silenced your mind, you're serene as a cow —
But forgot to ask who is the silence now.

19. The Specialist
You know all the terms, you recite every code.
But can't see the cliff at the end of your road.

20. The Winner
You conquered the game — now you own your own cage.
Polished, expensive. Just don’t show your rage.

21. The Pacifist
You chant about peace with your eyes full of glass.
They kick in the door — and you thank them with class.

22. The Artist
Your art is so brave, so edgy, so paid.
Approved by the board. Mass-produced and displayed.

23. The Analyst
You mapped every trend, you compiled every chart —
But failed to locate your own shattered heart.

24. The Liberal
You're open to all, you believe in The New —
Except any truth that’s not funded and blue.

25. The Rebel
You scream in the square, then go clock in at nine.
Your protest is loud. Your compliance — divine.

26. The Mentor
You guided the youth, you shaped every mind —
Now each one’s a copy. Was that your design?

27. The Stoic
You suffer in silence. You swallow your fate.
But that’s not wisdom — just trauma dressed straight.

28. The Thinkfluencer
You publish deep thoughts, you go viral and trend.
But silence and depth are not things you pretend.

29. The Historian
You teach of the past — from an edited pile.
You quote every tyrant. But never their smile.

30. The Diplomat
You mastered the tone, you adjusted your face.
But truth never bends. And neither does grace.

31. The Technocrat
You digitized life. You reduced every soul.
Now watch the machine devour its own goal.

32. The Good Citizen
You vote. You recycle. You wave at the drone.
And never once ask: Why’s the sky made of stone?

33. The Funeral Prayer
So sleep, educated. So rest, certified.
The System is proud. It has nothing to hide.
No soul left to burn, no heart left to dread —
Just neat little rows of the well-educated dead.

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

GMO-People
(after a corporate ad)

"Today we’ve launched the 'Neo' line — each product carries a new idea. 'Neo' products: made to change your life!"
— from a TV commercial
(Next up: chauvinist, cosmopolitan, and adiabatic products — each with a matching idea.)

Products are “ideas.”
Ideas are “goods.”
The BEAST has careers
In rebranding hoods:

So fruits we become,
And veggies by name —
Their mission is dumb,
But winning the game.

Just fear and collapse,
All courage is dead.
A few break the traps —
Then vanish instead.

Ideas like pins
Are stabbed in the brain.
Each thought now begins
In poison and pain.

And so — GMO'd
This Human Design.
These bastards explode
Their shit into minds,

Then stir it with flair —
Result? No defense.
Hell’s real estate’s there,
Or bluntly: we're F#CKED.

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

GMO-People
(Short Version)

They sell us their lies,
They brand us as goods.
We’re poison, we’re slaves —
This world’s up in floods.

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

Commissioned “Research” of Pseudoscience

Ordering a fool from a killer —
An innocent enough affair.
Order “scientific” work —
And pseudoscience will prepare
A trap that blinds its victims,
Causing damage far and wide,
More than all the killers combined —
Used to be the lie was subtle inside.

Half-truths, forgeries, and blatant lies,
These gods of today, so sly.
Their venom stabs from youth’s embrace,
Poisoning minds, stealing grace.
Now the “scientist” is but a scum,
A charlatan — don’t listen, dum-dum.

Here’s the barrow-virus, a sign:
The vermin fall, to Hell they climb.
Commissioned frauds just drain the brain,
To justify the lies they claim —
And the inhuman ones request
Pseudoscience to prove the mess.
The scum will make it soft, you see,
But they’ll kill you — mercilessly.

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

Paddling for Yourself

Always paddle, paddle everywhere —
In Hell, all else is just a waste.
Shovel it in — keep it with care,
The only question’s what’s the pay.

Betray and sell, that’s your game,
Or payment’s a troublesome debate.
Be by the trough, never the same —
Harden your heart, leave nerves at the gate.

Be dumb, for the smart will emit
That “smell” which the beasts cannot stand.
With it, outside the trough, you’ll quit —
Bow to the filth with your hand.

Without flattery, you’re no one in Hell —
A ruthless selection, unyielding:
“Rise up,” they’ll say, “only to nothing”—
For only the Evil is pleading.

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

Paddling for Yourself
(Short Version)

Paddle, betray, and sell with grace —
In Hell, there's no other place.
Be dumb, be vile, do what you must —
Bow to the filth or die in dust.

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

Поэт, писатель, ныне сложен
Твой путь в клоаке интернета,
Коль денег нет. Кумир низложен —
"Не графоманство" имя. Бреда

Навалом, и он "вверх" стремится,
Сметая Ясности попытки.
"На дне" судьбина очутиться,
Безвестности вкушая пытки.

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

Мейнстрим

"Одобрение толпы — доказательство полной несостоятельности".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.

Одобрение толпы,
В ней убогие рабы,
Станет ярым приговором —
Только чушь проникнет в норы.

Ныне стало много хуже:
В производстве Чуши дружен
СМРАДов мерзостный кагал.
Коль в мейнстр`име, ты пропал.

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

Зелёнкой лоб намажь — там крестик
Как знак "я цель" изобрази:
В сознанье бьют. Убьют! Воскреснет,
Коль шит критичности ко Лжи

Имеешь, также интуицию
Как средство излеченья ран
Ты применяешь. Интроспекцию
Не уважаешь — дело дрянь:

Весь Свет внутри. Добить не смогут,
Коль Чистым Светом озарён,
Ведь это есть Частичка Бога,
А Богу нанести урон

Не смогут черти. Примитивно
Изложено, но в этом соль —
Мир стал Заказником Спортивным:
Билет к отстрелу и контроль

Имеет нелюдь. А лошары
Пасутся, думая о том,
Что пропитание наваром
Добро, а не приманки, брошенные Злом.

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

Ложь и страхи, беспокойства —
Хаос создаётся так.
Всё искусственно. Геройство —
Видеть так Гнилой Бардак.

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

Алхимия Души

"Загляните в свои собственные души и найдите в них искру правды, которую боги поместили в каждое сердце и из которой только вы сами сможете раздуть пламя".
Сократ.

Искру правды в Мире Лжи
Лишь в себе ищи. Служи
Только ей, когда отыщешь,
Позабыв об адском ДНИЩЕ.

Тьмою Ложь на нём. Огонь
Раздувай, хоть СМРАДов вонь
Кислород там заместила
И кругом одни дебилы.

Нет о-два? На то алхимия! —
Духа в Аде, что б другими мы
Стали, средство потаённоё.
Но не то — "традиционное".

Сам постигни ту науку,
Прочь отбросив книжек скуку.
Внутрь иди и Свет узри,
Иль червём на дне умри...

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

Оздоровительный бег на длинные дистанции

"Человек должен делать те дела, которые, хотя и требуют тяжелого физического труда, но успокаивают его разум".
Сюнь-цзы, III-ий век до н.э.

Бег на длинные дистанции
Средь всеобщей профанации
Стиля жизни, что Природе
Соответствует, в уроде

Сдвиги сделает большие —
Позабудет дни лихие,
Когда мысли тяжким пленом
Стали. В жизни перемены

С этим будут небольшие —
То часы в неделю. Злые
Станут мягче и добрее —
Эндорфин отраду сеет.

Озабоченный развеет
Часть докук. Тупой сумеет
Отдохнуть чуток от Лжи —
В беге трудно ей служить.

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

Rigidity

All mind's rigidity stems from implanted
Beliefs in childhood — when a vivid world
Got crippled by notions, where truth was supplanted
By proxies. Spirit erased, flags unfurled

To rule with dull eyes through the prism of jargon,
Where stifled energy drags into rot.
The Powers of Spirit — cast out, like a parson
Cursed... or a setup by BEAST-things? A plot?

To live by the brain — not the Heart — is a Moloch.
For mind without Heart is an easy deceit.
That's why Revelation must strike like a warlock
To balance the forces and cleanse what’s oblique.

The balance of Spirit, of Mind, and of Heart:
With Spirit the ruler — that’s law, that's the key.
If ego and mind hold the throne from the start,
You're a "living" corpse, doomed eternally.

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

Rigidity

All mind's rigidity stems from the framing
Imposed in childhood, when a world so bright
Got scarred with concepts — false and maiming,
Where stand-ins thrive and Spirit's snuffed from sight.

Thus blind the gaze — through lenses of delusion,
Where energy is caged, stagnation reigns.
The Powers of Spirit lie in exclusion —
A curse? Or Creature’s cunning in our brains?

To live by mind, not Heart — this births the Moloch:
The Heartless mind is easily deceived.
That’s why the key must be the Flash — that Solar
Insight through which true balance is retrieved.

Balance: Heart, Mind, Spirit in alignment.
The last one reigns — that is the law profound.
But if mind and ego make the assignment,
You walk as corpse — alive, but under ground.

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

Rigidity

1.
No Heart, no Light — just mind control.
That’s how the Creature eats your soul.

2.
Mind without Spirit? A godless tool.
Marching the wise into systems of fool.

3.
You think you're alive — how quaint.
But ego's mask is a corpse's paint.

4.
If Spirit’s out, and ego reigns —
You're just a beast in mental chains.

5.
Stolen your Heart, replaced with “thought”?
That’s how the Creature ties the knot.

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

Cabinet of Freaks

Papuans dressed in robes and in brass,
And officials in rows — a grotesque parade
That props up the madhouse-world en masse...
Turn the Asylum into Deathcamp-grade —

That’s their task, assigned by the BEASTS.
Astounding how eager those mugs perform
Their orders — exterminating what’s least
Still thinking. The Darkness gives the form,

And those freaks will obey — every line.
CowID left no doubt in command:
They will stock the BEASTS' design
With themselves. But soon this land

Will burn — the rot’s now overripe.
The slaves, the BEASTS — all shall burn.
The Sun grows hotter, magma pipes
Boil oceans. If you're a fool — no return.

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

Cabinet of Horrors (Kunstkamera)

Savages in lab coats, in uniforms gray,
Bureaucratic apes — they parade every day
As the backbone of madness, of lunatic law.
And their mission? To turn every madhouse — into a Gulag's maw.

These were the orders, bestowed by the BEAST,
And behold how they serve with a zeal unreleased —
So thrilled to destroy what's left of the mind,
As Darkness commands, and their kind falls in line.

Each mutant obeys — CowID gave the cue.
Their Cabinet of Horrors grows with each new fool.
But this little "project" is dying — decayed,
Its rot has surpassed what the structure can take.

The sun now blazes with terrible grace,
And magma is boiling the oceans in place.
If you're scum or a fool — don't hope for escape:
No mercy is offered to misshapen apes.

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

Kunstkamera

1.
Madness wears a uniform.
And builds your cage in perfect form.

2.
CowID showed: they all obey.
The freak parade is here to stay.

3.
No mind left — just freaks and rules.
The Beast recruits obedient fools.

4.
This project’s dead. The rot runs deep.
Even Hell begins to weep.

5.
Not satire — just your daily news:
The Beast commands, and humans lose.

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

Biomass

The grey crowd flows straight into the vaults —
Cash, distraction, and lies unchecked:
A "carrot" is needed for feeding cults,
To herd the BIOMASS into pens — direct.

Then comes the culling — fake AIDS, CowID,
Or war anew. It’s the Darkness’s rite.
What’s left are worms with the docile creed:
Brains dead, spirits fled, no fight.

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

Biomass

The grayish mass walks straight to the trough —
Chasing fun, chasing cash, and consuming pure slop.
A “carrot” is dangled to bait them in line,
Then herded to slaughter, face-down in the slime.

Then comes the thinning — with false plagues and war,
CowID and fake AIDS, and a new fatal score.
That's Darkness' method: to reap the weak herd,
Till only the docile and dumb are preserved.

Their minds? Half-rotted. Their spirits? Gone.
They cheer for extinction. They’re already done.

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

Biomass

1.
Biomass is baited — then burned.
Truth denied, all bridges turned.

2.
A carrot. A cage. A war.
They march — just meat for the score.
Darkness feeds. Nothing more.

3.
They chase the prize and end up dead.
In lies and wars, their spirit bled.
The brain is mold, the soul is gone —
The Age of Worms goes crawling on.

4.
A carrot, a screen — the herd obeys.
Then culls begin. That’s Darkness’ way.

5.
They lined up dumb, with open jaws.
Now thinning starts — by T;h;e;i;r; "natural laws."

6.
Biomass prays to plastic gods.
And dies beneath the T;e;c;h; trod.

7.
No spirit left, no trace of will —
Just meat for war and pharma kill.

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

Depth-O-Meter

I invented the Depth-O-Meter.
The protocol was short and sweet:
The arrow dropped like a meteor —
Crushing the mind's last daring feat.

We’re all down there. Different roles:
Some are squirrels in wheels of fate,
Some are jesters. But praise the Hole —
Our native, sacred, shithole state.

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

The Bottommeter

I built a device — the Bottommeter.
Didn’t take long to log each feature.
The arrow plummeted, sharp and fast,
Crushing the Mind's delusions at last.

We're all at the bottom, make no mistake —
Some spin like hamsters, some dance like fakes.
But all of us cheer for the glorious Sludge —
Our native muck, our holy grudge.

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

The Bottommeter

1.
The Bottommeter broke the scale —
Turns out we all already fell.

2.
We worship Sludge. We praise the Dregs.
Mind is mocked. Truth walks on legs.

3.
From wheel to stage, we love the pit —
Because the bottom’s where we fit.

4.
You say we rise? You miss the plot.
The arrow screams: We've long since rotted.

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

News-ness

The glossary of the viper’s den —
The "news" program on repeat:
Desperate minions of beastly men
Striving to serve. And the elite

Left few real humans around.
Dumb News-ness — that tool of scorn —
Turned all into herd, dumbfound.
Truth’s dead. Bullshit is reborn.

The screens are drowned in rot,
And bastards rule the view.
No mind remains. The lot
Is lost in devil’s spew.

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

Newspeak

The glossary of the Serpent's den —
That’s your daily “news” again.
The fiends in suits, with soulless glee,
Serve pure deceit on every screen.

The human count keeps growing thin.
The “newspeak” drowns the truth within.
What once was honest, clean, and right —
Is now just filth in neon light.

Each channel floods the mind with rot.
The slaves comply. The thinkers — not.
But few remain who dare to see:
This world is ruled by treachery.

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

Newspeak

1.
News is poison. Truth is dead.
The screen just feeds you lies instead.

2.
Newspeak howls. The screens obey.
Your mind is meat. Your soul — their prey.

3.
The honest fled. The filth took hold.
Now lies are shouted, clean and bold.

4.
TV's the temple. Scum — the priest.
And you’re the sacrifice. At feast.

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

Phantasmagoria?

Fat imbeciles — "the salt of the earth",
With fascist nerves infused with dread.
Terror drives them, they prove their worth
By screaming hate till reason is dead.

Terror pushes them to the brink.
Their weight aids Darkness. They howl and hiss,
Stampeding thoughts that dare to think.
It’s all in the mind — or the mindless abyss.

Fat is thick. So is their skull.
So they roll downhill like slugs.
I’m sick of these snouts, these dull
Faces. They’re slime. They’re bugs.

And slime will grease the slide:
You’ll slip — and plunge below.
They’ll beat you with no pride,
And kill you — just for show.

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

Phantasmagoria?

Fat imbeciles — the “soul” of this race.
Fascist enforcers set fear in place.
Terror creeps in, shoves them along,
Driven by rage, by hate, by throng.

The weight of fools feeds shadows grim,
Their howling pushes us to the brim.
And in the end, the mind’s the key —
But minds have drowned in gluttony.

Thick skin, thick skulls, dull as bricks —
They slide downhill, those bloated pigs.
Repulsive mugs, obscene and vile,
They leave behind a toxic trail.

Their slime coats paths you thought were clear —
Slip just once, and your end is near.
With them you’ll fall, no matter the plea —
Guilty or not — they’ll drag you deep.

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

Phantasmagoria?

1.
The fat ones rule. Their weight is law.
They slide in slime. You die in awe.

2.
Thick flesh, thick lies, thick rotten grace —
They’ll drag you down to their embrace.

3.
You slip — you fall. The pigs don’t care.
Their filth is trap. Their fall — your snare.

4.
Phantasmagoria? No. It’s real.
They feast. You choke. That’s the deal.

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

The Other Way

This slug-life — this "path" —
Was carved by the Dark. No craft
Can help in that hole you’re born.
Yet Art alone — a sacred horn —

Can lead you out of that rot
To Freedom, where the slime is not.
That Freedom is Spiritual. Pure.
Far from the crawling trash and sewer.

Go inward, beyond the fright.
If you can’t — you lose your right.
Then a slug you’ll be, or worse —
A squirrel in an endless curse.

Intuition, critique, the spark
Of creative fire in the dark —
That’s your bridge to the OTHER WAY,
That isn’t slime — but a BLAZING PLAY.

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

The Other

A slug-life path — that’s what they give,
A nightmare burrow where you “live”.
From childhood on, the walls are tight —
But one tool breaks it: inner Light.

That Light is Art — and through its fire,
You rise above the slime and mire.
The road to Freedom, pure and whole,
Is lit by Spirit — not by goal.

Forget the swamp. Go deep, go true.
If you don’t dare — they’ll swallow you.
You’ll be a slug, just like the rest,
Or spin that cage-wheel like the “blessed”.

But if you trust your inner flame —
Intuition, thought unchained —
Then comes the turn, the mystic spark:
You reach the OTHER from the dark.

Where nothing's slick, nor dull, nor low —
But fierce, and bright, and sharply so!

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

The Other

1.
The swamp is deep — but you are more.
Burn through the dark. Become the roar.

2.
Slug or spark — that’s your split.
Choose the slime, or choose the hit.

3.
You want the Other? Then go through.
The slime’s for those who can’t break true.

4.
No guts? You crawl. No fire? You rot.
But blaze — and reach what slime is not.

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

Pioneers

To be a "pioneer" without sense —
That’s the fate of the idiotic crowd.
Pseudo-science and fake pretense,
"Faith" and madness — dumb and loud.

The BEAST loves these eager boys:
So ready, it’s laughable to see!
They die. A new one makes the noise,
And backs more garbage — with a PhD.

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

Pioneers

Forever a “pioneer”?
That’s the fate of every fool.
Pseudo-science, plastic fear,
Faith and dogma as their tool.

Tamed and dumb — a walking jest,
Built to serve the beasts’ delight.
One drops dead — they spawn the next,
Still proclaiming lies as “light”.

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

Pioneers

1.
Fools march first — that’s what they’re for.
Drop one — ten will serve the war.

2.
"New frontiers" for brainless drones —
Each one dies to build the thrones.

3.
One dies, the system grins again.
The next fool runs the same old train.

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

Counterpoints

Souls — now meat.
Mind — decay.
Trash repeat —
Darkness’s way.

Tons of meat,
Tons of lies.
All’s been beat —
The mind just dies.

But Mind, when bowed
To Spirit’s grip —
And scent endowed —
Shall never slip.

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

Counterpoints

Souls — just meat.
Mind — decayed.
Darkness speaks —
And fools obeyed.

Flesh in heaps,
And lies like rain.
Truth is gone —
The world’s insane.

But mind that bends
To Spirit's breath
Still can sense
A way through death.

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

Counterpoints

1.
Mind to Spirit — that’s the gate.
All the rest is meat for fate.

2.
Chained by lies, the world is blind.
Only Spirit frees the mind.

3.
Heap of flesh, a brain on pause —
Only Spirit bends the laws.

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

Money or You?

Is money your tool, or are you the tool,
A slave who bows to greed’s deceit?
Truth is traded for coins as rule —
The madman rules the global street.

The world’s redrawn to fit that lie:
Sell your soul and stack the hoard.
But through the World of the Null go try
To reach the Clean Light of the Lord.

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

Money, a Means for You

Money — the tool, or are you their slave?
Truth's above, but greed makes the grave.
The world reshapes itself to buy,
Sell your soul, and let it die.

Through Nothing, run to Light’s embrace.
Chase the void — and find your place.

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

Money, a Means for You

1.
Chase the gold, but lose the truth.
Money's slave — or free your youth.

2.
Truth stands high, and gold is low.
Run to light, and let it show.

3.
Money — the means, or your cage?
Choose the Light, or stay the rage.

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

Depths of Hell

Once you locate the source of pain,
Keep pulling the tangled thread.
You’ll find yourself fully armed again —
And know how deep Hell really is spread.

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

The Depth of Hell

Find the source of pain you feel,
Unwind the knot, the twisted reel,
Then you will stand with all your might,
Armed with the knowledge of the night.

The deeper hell — the deeper dive,
But through it all, you’ll come alive.

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

The Depth of Hell

1.
Hell’s deep — but deeper’s life.
Unravel pain, and end the strife.

2.
Feel the depth, but fear not long.
Know the pain, and grow more strong.

3.
Find the pain — then pierce the dark.
With knowledge, light will leave its mark.

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

Страданье и Познанье

Страданье первый шаг к Познанью —
Ты видишь, что-то здесь не то:
Сплошь благодушье БРЕДА, "знанья",
Что всем навязаны, ничто,

Ведь нет там главного — ответа,
За что твой Ад и почему.
Убогие дают советы,
Что неприемлемы Уму.

И ты, коль Чуток, начинаешь
Искать ответы и пути
Свои, а Бред Всеобщий оставляешь —
С ним к Свету, Правде не дойти.

Ошибок будет там немало,
Но коли Свет найдёшь ВНУТРИ,
Душа в Бедламе не пропала.
Скорее Чистый Свет узри!

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

Психотронное оружие лже-болезней

"Шум оружия заглушает голос законов".
Мишель де Монтень, XVI-ый век.

Шум говнида заглушил
Все "законы", ум и стыд,
Показав, что здесь дебил
Большинством, что Дух убит

В очень многих, потому
Обречён безумный мир.
Приготовь скорей суму —
Прочь иди, в Познаньи сир.

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

Обидчивость ублюдков

"Чем больше человек склонен обижать других, тем хуже он сам переносит обиды".
Луций Сенека, I-ый век н.э.

Тираны обидчивы, а убогие твари,
Те что под ними, "ранимы" вдвойне,
Ведь приказания Зла эти хари
Всегда исполняют на с Духом войне.

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

Suffering and Knowledge

Suffering is the first step to Knowledge—
You see that something’s off, not right:
Endless bliss of delusion, "wisdom,"
Forced upon all, yet naught in sight.

For the crucial part is missing—the answer,
Why your Hell, and what it means.
The wretches offer their advice,
But it’s intolerable to the mind's routines.

And you, if Sensitive, begin to search
For answers and paths of your own,
Leaving behind the Universal Madness—
With it, no truth or light is ever shown.

There’ll be many errors on your way,
But if within you find the Light,
Your soul in Bedlam will not stray—
Behold the Pure Light shining bright!

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

Dumbing Down: School

The school of fools, a place of woe,
Where servants of Power reap what they sow,
For pennies they toil, with no grace,
While children suffer in this place...

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

Crusader Approach

A crusade no more —
Now it’s the approach,
With a red fucking cross
Backing treason by coach.

If a knight strikes the blow —
It’s a glorious feat;
If an idiot kills —
You’re the one in defeat.

They jabbed the dumb herd
With some cheap toxic brew,
While spewing absurd
Lies the sellouts once knew.

They hired the scum
To lie and "to heal" —
Now Reason is numb,
And Truth must conceal.

If Honest and Wise?
You’re marked as a threat.
The Bedlam is global —
For the smart — prison set.

They’re building the camps,
Extinguishing minds.
The red cross is stamped
While the demons dance blind.

The crusade was fiction,
A tale they once told.
Now traitors wear kindness —
But masks can’t hide mold.

New lies every hour,
And none call it crime.
"Spiritual power"?
Flatlining in slime.

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

Fantasy

Heavenly infantry,
A battalion all its own,
Smashes monsters in Hell,
Driving out what’s overthrown —

Submission, lies, and fears.
The fools won't bend their knees!
Better death upon the block,
Than the Pure Light, which frees.

The plight of that infantry —
Captured, in the end, it stands.
A soldier now a fool,
In Hell, the law commands:

If not dumbed down — you’re lost,
If you don’t yield — you’re a foe.
And so the force is tossed
By poisonous lies that flow.

Heavenly infantry,
Drowned in seas of deceit:
To obedient idiots,
No enemy’s defeat.

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

Freedom

Send the whole world away, no mercy to await,
For in it, only a few are not beasts of fate.
Alone, then curse the Void,
And the Light you'll find, destroyed.

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

Giants of Spirit-Mind

Above the bar of intellect
And spirituality you know,
You cannot see. And the giant
In your blindness will not show.

You’ll only find familiar traits
In him, as you search with despair.
So you'll meet such figures —
False prophets of Strife and Care.

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

Impossibility Surrounds

Impossibility surrounds you tight,
Through it all, you walk through life.
Slowly, strength begins to fade,
And in your pockets, only strife.

The spiritual path, so bright in myth,
Is blocked by walls of endless death.
Today it cracks with cunning might —
Yet soon, a stronger wall will rise in sight.

It will be tougher, and you weaker,
So use your mind, and think it through,
To march through Evil, ever bleaker —
Barriers everywhere, no light in view.

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

Like "School"

A pen for lambs, where the foolish sheep,
Teach all the rules that the stall will keep,
The Chief Goat’s their father, in place of a sire,
The stall’s their homeland, their heaven, their pyre.

They’ll teach obedience — all rules, no harm,
Not for slaughter, but for some calm.
And the ideal? A sheep in a wheel,
Hailing the pointless, the worthless deal.

They'll hang so much rubbish on their brains,
You’d think meat plants were made by their chains.
The young ones will hurry, they’ll always rush,
To follow commands: the shepherd’s hush.

What’s needed for sheep, they’ll always care,
For other concerns, they’re unaware.
Don’t believe? You’re a fool, a mental case —
They’ll kick you out in the name of the Goat’s grace.

The rules aren’t from the Chief Goat, it’s true,
But from those who seek to shear and chew.
The “learned” donkey hides the scam,
For besides their carrot, they don’t give a damn.

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

Living in Delusion

With the mind not allied,
Serving Darkness and Malice wide,
The majority of Earth’s population,
For this, they’ll be destroyed,
And Malice will be overthrown,
As Earth withers under infestation.

I erase the lies around—
The world has rotted from their boastful sound.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.

A cataclysm will end
This Malice. It’s been troubling
The Higher Forces for long.
If you are of Spirit,
Kill your doubts—
This filth doesn’t belong.

I erase the lies around—
The world has rotted from their boastful sound.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.

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

Long-Distance Therapy

"A man should do the kind of work that, though physically hard, brings peace to his mind."
— Xunzi, 3rd century BCE

To run long miles, alone, unfazed,
Amid a world so cheaply crazed,
Where life itself, once Nature's song,
Is sold in shapes absurd and wrong —

That run can shift the mind’s decay,
Make haunting thoughts just drift away,
Unbind the chains of days gone mad,
And spark a life not quite so sad.

The change is small — some hours a week —
But even tyrants grow less bleak.
Endorphins plant a gentler seed,
A balm for those too lost to plead.

The worried soul may clear the mist,
The dullard rest from serving twists
Of Lies — for even they must yield,
When breath and will take up the field.

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

Mainstream

"The approval of the crowd is proof of total failure."
— Lucius Seneca, 1st century AD

The crowd’s approval — slaves in chains,
Becomes a verdict, grim remains.
Only nonsense fills the holes,
Infected minds, enslaved souls.

Now it's worse, a deeper plight:
In the realm of nonsense, tight,
The media’s vile, the filth’s in full,
And if you’re mainstream, you’ve lost it all.

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

At the End of the War

Imagination’s in decline—
And man is doomed, it’s plain to see.
The masses crave the shallow line,
In an age of narrow minds, we’re free.

They’re everywhere—in books and film,
And in the way we all behave.
What joy, these fleeting sparks so slim—
A flight of fancy, ideas brave!

We gather bits, piece by piece,
The world’s defeated by the mold—
And humaneness is but a dream:
The Law of Decay, so stark and cold.

Bits of thought, of human kind,
When fascism reigns, they’re doomed to fade.
We "live" in this last age of mind—
At war with Reason, we're betrayed.

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

Over the Abyss of Lies

A grasshopper leaps across the field.
You jump from lie to lie,
Forgetting Honor, Spirit, Will,
Over an abyss where Mirages lie.

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

"Paper Scrapers"

We write —
We breathe.
Silence falls —
In the wild of the world, you’re lost.
So write! Not with blood — but poison:
Too many pests in this world to lessen!

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

Psychotronic Weapons of False Illnesses

The noise of CowID drowned out
All "laws," reason, and shame,
Revealing that the fools are devout—
The majority, with Spirit slain.

In so many, doomed to insanity,
The world spirals into despair.
Prepare your bag for the journey,
And flee to Knowledge, if you dare.

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

Reflections of Sorrow

The grim and grunting crowd, through toil and grinding pain,
Was turned into a mob — deranged in soul and brain.
The world grew foul, pathetic, nauseous, obscene —
And worth no more than all that blind, obedient scene.

The dust of heirs — just humans in disguise —
A mockery of fate beneath their lifeless eyes.
The poet dreamed of Light, of Truth, of wonder’s flame —
But reaped mere dust — mad slaves without a name.

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

So-Called "Goods"

What goods?! Dumbing down,
Deceptions, fears. What’s to gain
From the decay of Mind and Soul?
The dust and chains of counterfeit gain.

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

Supercrap

Overrated crap, long gone,
Now inflated, bloated, drawn.
Too lazy to think? —
They’ll make you cattle with that stink!

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

The Attacks of the Foolish

To the fools of Darkness, attacks align,
As if the virtues of Good are fine.
The lies of Evil reach their peak,
With Satan here, a god to seek.

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

The Global Guild of "Wasted Work"

The Guild of Wasted Work —
Disgraceful, dull, and fake.
They lie with polished smirks
Till Reason starts to break.

The rest is just d;cor —
Cars, gadgets, fashion, trash.
Some quality? — Maybe.
But food? It reeks of gore —
All "care" for slave-class rabies.

Too many slaves? The Lord
Now cures them through a war.
Cull tactics he adored
Still leave him wanting more.

The herds, still far too dense,
Are tagged as "nations" now.
A thinning makes some sense —
He plans to cull the crowd.

Three quarters of the globe
Now live with heads reversed:
The ass replaces lobe —
A plan that’s well-rehearsed.

A sea of asses reigns,
Some even passed tech schools.
But seekers with bright brains?
They’re vanishing like fools.

The Guild — that rotting hive
Where demons wear a crown —
Is twitching, barely alive,
Still inching toward their throne —
Measured, as planned, by every ass they own.

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

The Satanists’ Solidarity

"A man may rise either by his own cunning or by others' stupidity."
— Jean de La Bruy;re

The game is rigged, the path is clear:
Climb on fools, spread lies and fear.
That's how Bedlam runs its show —
Step on heads and up you go.

But don’t you sleep — the next in line
Will crush your spine to reach the climb.
And the fool you left below
Might bite your ankle from the snow.

So brace yourself — embrace the vice.
The only way to scale this ice
Is join the cult where evil thrives —
In Satan’s ranks, teamwork survives.

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

The Sensitivity of Bastards

Tyrants are touchy, and wretched creatures,
Those beneath them are twice as weak—
For orders of Evil, these fiendish features,
Always obey in a war with the Spirit they seek.

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

The Swamp of the Homeland

Caught in the swamp of the homeland’s grip,
You’ll scarcely feel the depth’s cruel trip,
Among the dead, who, closing tight,
Strive to drag you down to night.

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

chemy of the Soul

“Look into your own soul and find the spark of truth the gods placed in every heart—and only you can fan it into flame.”
— Socrates

In this World of Lies and Screaming,
Truth still flickers — dim, but gleaming.
Seek it deep in your own chest —
Fan the fire, forget the rest.

Hell below is choked with rot,
Darkness reigns and reason’s not.
Even air's replaced with stink —
Dumb and dumber barely blink.

O; gone? Then comes the art:
Soul’s transmutation — fire start!
Not your grandma’s alchemy —
No old-school philosophy.

Learn it raw. No printed crutch.
Books can’t teach you half as much.
Go within — or rot like meat,
Wormlike, writhing in defeat.

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

Thematic Crisis

A crisis of themes — it comes with the grind:
This crude little world leaves so little to find.
Prose can still scrape by, but verse takes the blow —
The yield turns to weariness, painfully slow.

This boredom, this dullness leaves barely a spark
To seek out subtopics still left in the dark.
And writing new takes on Decadent moans
Just grates on the teeth, just rattles the bones.

The world is a zoo-circus, loud and deranged,
Where apes with syringes or bombs are exchanged
As “the people,” or “masses,” or some other name —
But the tropes are exhausted; they all feel the same.

In this starving of meaning, what poet can thrive?
Write of nature? While doom is already alive?
There's no thrill in the meadow, no joy in the stream —
In such days, to stay silent may well be supreme.

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

NATO’s in the House

NATO’s squatting in the shack —
Orc will drive the bastards back,
All the way to Berlin’s gate —
That’s the hog’s deluded fate.

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

“Soft and Fluffy”

In this world of gloom and grime?
Then you're either dumb through time,
Or a scumbag through and through —
Pick your side, it's up to you.

If you're wise and clean, upright —
Show your thorns, prepare to fight.
Or the freaks will chew you raw,
Like a sandwich full of flaw.

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

Orcs. Discord. Shadows. Night.
How to lose your mind just right?
Only madness lets you rot
In this Filth, where Light is not—

Where the thread is lost, then severed,
Soul for Nothing sold forever.
Hee-hee-hee and ha-ha-ha—
“Mind” of a MAD SLAVE. Voil;.

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

The Dead Man’s Dread of Death Is Real
A chasm deep — too dark to feel.
For he had never truly lived,
Just spewed the fumes the world once sieved.

Though mind-born was that toxic gas,
It rots much worse than leper's rash.
The dead are many — here's the catch:
The ones alive? A tiny batch.

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

The Abyss Is Deep

The abyss is deep,
Will is fast asleep.
Slavery runs steep —
Fools are theirs to keep.

Doomed by cunning lies,
Silent, vacant eyes.
In their minds, the cries
Of dead, recycled whys.

Darkness clouds the mind,
Clarity — rare find.
Few still dare to groan,
Most just kneel — like stone.

Think they’re free, and proud.
Cheer the beast aloud.
Bold and twisted fraud —
He’s their living god...

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

Weep, Executioner

Weep, executioner — the end is near.
The final match is lost — drop the veneer.
There’s divine revenge for every lash,
Even slaves will get their share — no cash.

You won’t sneak into the world beyond,
Not for free — there is no magic wand.
All your games are over, debts are paid,
Fools will die the way they played and prayed.

None deserve the life they claim to live —
It’s a wake. There’s nothing left to give.
Only those with souls still strong and clear
Might be judged — and vanish from down here.

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

Salt on Wounds, or Pain as an Indicator of Evil

Pain? Fleeing pain won’t help,
It’s the marker of the evil’s swell.
Choking without Will, you’ll find
The pain grows deeper, hard to bind.
Wounds? Then salt will ease the toll!

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

To Hell Led by the "Experts"

Mouth sealed tight,
Ears stuffed with plugs,
The "expert" ready,
Drowned in the muck.

Close your eyes?
No, filters are better—
"Living" with "success,"
Forgetting the weather...

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

Pseudo-Science at War

Humanity in the act of "knowing"?
Vivisection as its method!
Ancient wisdom spoke of a different showing—
Anthropocosmic truth, not "gnome" fettered.

Man’s not just flesh, but Spirit and Awareness,
With the brain as mere receiver,
Deceit, fraud, and all things unfairness,
Are everywhere in "science," a believer.

Speak not of truths that make them squirm,
Grants and titles will follow,
Degrees for selling your soul firm,
Exchanged for coins that are hollow.

Not knowledge, but manipulation—
For those who spread the lies,
To keep the people in frustration,
In a war of Spirit, where truth dies.

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

Burn with the verb?

All around is dark,
Brains turned to dust,
Hee-hee, hee-hee,
No light, no spark...

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

The Sun-faced F;hrer

The F;hrer’s the best,
He clears the skies,
Builds fools and sends them,
With a howl, to lies.

Leads them to slaughter,
And brings with pride,
New fake diseases,
While the vermin collide!

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

Expression Through Things

The moon-faced self I show,
Intoxicated by dreams that flow,
Forever digging for my gain,
While all else is thought in vain.

Everything but this "digging" spree,
Is nonsense here, you see—
(Except for food, booze, and sex),
Your pride grows with each flex.

Pride and things—a tough expression,
Hard to find, without aggression,
What’s not in curse: DECAY,
Wretchedness, soul and heart dismay!

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

The True Colonel

"Our Colonel was born with a grip,"
He cursed with fury on his lip,
And for the BEASTS, he'd always wait—
"Meat assaults" he’d plan, a cruel fate.

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

Successful Poetry

To burn with words?
Or straight to the fire?
No, better to lie
And betray with desire.

Lie: a little rhyme,
Seems like a bag—
Pour any nonsense
In, let it drag.

They'll eat it up,
Then ask for more lies.
It’s all the same,
When Illusions arise.

In minds, they dwell,
Only rubbish will
Comfort them all.
THROUGH BULLSHIT, SUCCESS CALLS!

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

"Religious" Fast

Fasting, a fast to guard the murk
Of false religions, where demons lurk.
Much satanic dread in their teachings—
A guarantee of slavery's preachings.

You’re God’s servant... "The Black Magician,"
Who sees all believers as mere submission,
Doesn't trust the fog, wants to find the light—
To break it down, to seek what’s right.

Finding truth in books is tough—
For everywhere, they lie enough.
Introspection, the only way,
To cast aside the lies, to sway.

Seek your answers from within,
Not sparkling gems or golden spin—
The path grows harder, sadder still—
Look for the primal form, the will...

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

The Tightrope Circus

Word-juggling acrobats perform —
They make "bears" pedal in a swarm,
Set "tigers" growling on their stands,
As madness claps with bloody hands.

A clever trickster’s sleight-of-thought
Turns cheap deceit to something taught.
"Sheep" in the bleachers stare, entranced,
While muzak keeps their brains entrapped.

Between the acts — a lullaby
That seeps into the mind — and why?
The circus wobbles on a wire,
Each soul contorted in its fire.

But when, from far, you glimpse the scene
And light it with a thought that's clean —
You’ll see: not art, nor grace, nor flair —
Just Evil’s boil, festering there.

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

At Rock Bottom

You won’t just “fall apart” — no way —
If you are whole, you’re built to stay.
No cultured gloss, no artful lie
Can fake that core or clarify.

“Culture” teems with sweet deceit —
But wholeness walks on its own feet.
Creation stands, rebellion too —
Rebellion from decay we brew.

Decay is not some random curse —
It’s planned, designed, and getting worse.
By scheming beasts with soulless eyes
Who feed us doubts and rigged “whys”.

Resistance is the sacred fight
That only brave ones get quite right.
Ditch fear, embrace a sharpened view —
And make — that's what the strong ones do.

Unshaken like a cliff you’ll be.
So rise — rise far above the sea
Of broken depths where breath is tight —
Up high alone you’ll find the light.

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

Junk Science

They sell us guts and "breaking news" —
New trash, new ways to twist the views.
Deficiency pretends to seek
The truth — by smashing logic weak.

Absurd their lens, profane their scope —
They’ve scrubbed out Spirit, Light, and Hope.
The sheep still nod, still eat the rot
That Satan’s hired agents brought.

To serve the Dark — that is the deal
To earn a paycheck, stamp, or seal.
They "teach", they "heal", they sell you fear —
The job’s insane — and yet it’s here.

So madness floods the meekest brains,
And seeps through universities, chains
Each mind in sterile, twisted schemes —
As “science” slips into sick dreams.

This whole damned house of fraud and lies
Is now a madhouse in disguise.
And CowID — hell’s favorite con —
Has shown: there is a lower bottom.

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

Aging Children of the Dead

Aging children mourn the past,
Though youth’s illusions didn’t last.
Now dullness reigns, and tawdry aims
Have drained their strength in petty games.

They locked in place the mindless schemes,
And never questioned shallow dreams.
Though traps were set, and lies were dense —
A soul could fight with common sense.

But no — their drives were led astray,
To chase for junk and cheap display.
For status, praise, or some connection —
They called it “luck” or “life’s direction”.

Aging children lost the game,
Still playing small and calling it fame.
Each chance to grow they tossed aside —
Till CowID slime laid bare their pride.

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

Fell from the Tree

They charge the poet just to speak —
To print, promote, or dare critique?!
But hush now — quiet! hush — don’t shout! —
The poet’s time is running out.

To live in fascist filth today —
Where once mere life brought soul dismay?
Now deeper still the nation’s drowned,
It’s hell below the burial ground.

You’d have to crash from heights insane
To write down here and not feel pain.
What’s left? Just gather all your rage
And blast the verse right off the page!

Will that explosion shake the scene?
Who cares? Just tear apart the screen!
Only in blasts the soul still fights —
So damn their “heaven” — light the night!

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

Serving the F;hrer on Contract

The F;hrer barked — and off they sped,
Like hunting dogs, their eyes blood-red.
For cash they swarmed, a rabid pack,
To stab the old and shoot the back

Of women, children — every prey.
Hell’s got a thousand games to play,
And he plays all with fervent thrill —
These murders come with a paid bill.

The "doctors" killed with steady hands
Through CowID's obedient plans.
Now once again, the script is back —
They serve with guns, they love attack.

In coats with pus-stained, yellow sleeves,
They preach while every patient grieves.
A license grants them death and pay —
And grinning, they inject decay.

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

Junk Science

Got gaps in knowledge? Fill with crap.
Then chase some grant in this clown trap.
Just sell the tale they pay to hear —
The truth? It’s nowhere even near.

Fulfill the order — kill for pay,
While real hitmen take the day.
New strains of lies are brewed and spread,
And people swallow till they’re dead.

Supply the press with “proof” and flair —
The Dark will fund it fair and square.
Another bucket’s on its way —
Of filth disguised as sweet “hooray”.

And once they sell it as “research,”
The herd will kneel, the herd will lurch.
Deeper in dung they sink, content —
Obeying what “the science” meant.

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

So-Called "Law"

The "law" has sold our conscience cheap,
It binds us tight, it makes us weep.
Only dullness hears the sound —
Of chains that twist and weigh us down.

Repression’s all that’s left to see,
“Freedom” must be ripped and bled.
CowID’s test — Darkness comes to be,
It sweeps away, and we’re the dead.

They care not for our laws or truth,
Wipe their asses with the proof.
From the press, there’s no escape —
Through them, they rule the goddamn ape.

To those who still have human worth,
It’s hard to fight this poisoned earth.
Through the press, the beasts will lie,
Driving mindless herds to die.

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

The Sheep and the New Gates

New gates — a screen’s the way to see.
Behind the updates — enmity.
New haircuts, too, and "care" they sell,
The fools will buy, they can't rebel.

The donkeys will roam through every gate,
Their "path" is there, to fabricate.
They'll lie again, just like before,
The "path" leads down to that same door.

In the ravine, the slaughter mills,
History repeats, and so it thrills.
They’re happy while the gates still shine,
But turn the corner — they're next in line.

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

The Real Infernal

The unreality of all we see,
A prism of delusion, twisted, free —
Perception warped by hellish light,
That’s Reality — a shameful sight!

Delusion’s constant, never fades —
Attacks from youth, in heavy shades.
Few remain unbribed, untouched —
Truth’s like smoke, it’s barely clutched.

The selfless few will fight to show
The Total Delusion that we know,
The more they lie, the more they feed —
On lies that drown and plant the seed.

Delusion rings in every lie,
A circle built to multiply.
In such a world, the only cure —
Is spirit's strength, pure and sure.

Only the Purest Spirit sees
The depths of hell, the inner keys.
It sharpens mind, and though it’s hard,
In Hell, you rot — but still stand guard.

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

The Spoke in the Wheel

It’s not a dream, it’s not a thought:
A spoke is trapped — the wheel it sought.
It merges with the turning gears,
And down it spins to muck and tears.

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

The Stoner, the Thief, and the Doctor

The stoner’s high, the bureaucrat steals,
The satrap grumbles, and it feels.
That’s it! he says, all justified —
The donkey, "Doctor," glorified.

He cuts the ears with all his lies,
We’ll hear no truth until we die.

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

All Private Affairs

They’ll wreck your private business quick,
With "laws" and acts — a deadly trick.
Underhanded, they'll attack,
Like a terror act, they’ll strike you back.

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

Mario, Mario, Marionettes

Mario, Mario, puppets dance,
A haze of lies, a deadly trance.
They strike the mind with foolish slander,
Keep your ear sharp in this false lander.

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

There Will Be Summer

Summer’s coming, songs will fly,
A lot of tunes beneath the sky.
Inspiration won’t depart,
It lingers deep within the heart.

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

Make Songs, No Matter What

Make your songs — no matter how,
Through the verses, rise again now.
The task’s simple, in the end,
If your Heart’s strong, it will transcend.

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

Shaitan and the Sheep

Shaitan. The Sheep.
He’s worse than Hell!
Though Hell’s persistent,
The Sheep’s so dull —
Through this, all Evil,
Spreads like a spell.
Look at the world through a twisted lens:
Shaitan and the Sheep —
A bond that never ends.
The path to fascism
Is through masks and helmets.

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

"Donbeat Bombas"

"Donbeat Bombas" — at the start,
They shelled their own, to tear apart,
A conflict sparked by hateful hands,
A HELL of a FASCIST LAND!!!

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

Hidden and Open Satanism in False Religions

Tap-tap-tap —
The road to "bliss,"
A filthy swine
Heads for the eucharist.

The fat priest
Feeds the FLESH,
With blood, to feast
On the WASTELAND's mesh.

"Eat the others!"
Has always been the creed,
A madman’s scream
With CANNIBAL NEED.

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

Revenge Lasting a Lifetime

The string has snapped,
It was my patience.
What’s left behind?
Of course, it’s vengeance!

Cold is the mind,
But the Heart is fierce:
Not to act quick,
But to resist the tears.

With that fiery wrath,
Fill your life’s span —
Die with honor,
Remember the pain.

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

Not "With Greetings"...

No "greetings" here!
To bear the lies,
That follow chains,
The Spirit’s rise.
Cleanse your ear
From servant's trash,
Their foolishness,
A darkened flash.
Through all the noise,
They spread their lies,
In chaos’ guise.

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

The Inescapable Herd

The herd’s inescapable —
It only grows.
How vile it is
To hear the lows!

To look upon it —
Better blind your eyes!
If it’s not “greetings,”
Stay away — it's madness in disguise!

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

The Spiritual Path

Don’t take others seriously,
Their lives are outward, not within.
Direct your thoughts and focus, see,
The one true Spiritual Path begins.

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

The School Program

A sawmill, that’s the plan,
Logs and planks to shape with care,
To churn out only brutes and thugs —
They’re easiest to lead to despair.

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

Shame and Laughter

CowID is Shame,
Where Reason sleeps,
And Spirit's slain,
For most of them —
The BEASTS ascend.
The world’s just a joke... in the end.

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

Donbass

Donbass is "ready" —
The "liberator"
Sent all the men
To fight, the "warrior."

Not long they’ll thrash,
Struggling in vain —
To fight for orcs,
They’ll die in pain.

A shameful death,
Amidst the lies.
To the slaughterhouse —
Forward, fools, and die!

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

Animal Life

Animal life —
Wake up, be wise!
The wretched herd
Fills up with lies.

How few are true!
How many schemes,
Of filthy fiends,
To craft false dreams...

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

Locked in a Cell

Locked in a cell —
A TV cell,
The idiot box —
Chains tighter than steel.
The people, now slaves,
In its grip they kneel.

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

The bomber brings a world of peace—
On barren land, all strife must cease.
The world’s a target, clear and wide—
The sharpest shot will turn the tide.

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

The Vipers' Nest

A writhing nest of soulless snakes —
They squeeze the weak, then fight
For bigger shares and fatter stakes
With venom as their right.

The more you bite — the more you take,
The bigger grows your slice.
While smaller snakes, too slow to fake,
Are crushed without a price.

It’s warm and snug inside that pit,
If you can fight as one —
The fiercest get the biggest bit,
And feast until it’s gone.

This nest is vast — a crawling blight,
Best keep your distance, friend.
It’s always hungry, day and night...
Look out, you worm — defend!

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

Solitude

In solitude, you feel no drive
To change the self you know —
A place where daring dreams survive
And bolder visions grow.

The odds are good, the path is clear,
No need for joy's disguise.
If you're not chasing "pleasure" here,
Then muse and fire arise.

All bonds and noise — that tangled blade —
Can cut ambition down.
It carves through dreams so deftly made,
And leaves the spirit drowned.

But solitude preserves your spark,
Lets effort freely live.
Without creation — all is dark.
And life has naught to give.

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

Permanent Surrealism

What once was "social realism"
Now reeks of pure surreal.
Red banners fly — no enema,
But minds expect the deal!

A giant purge in noble guise,
It cleansed the brain with pride.
Its dogma banned all thought outside —
"Think only as prescribed."

The priest once swapped that script for "God,"
But sang the same old song:
"You're free," they say — with shiny gloss —
But kitsch still drags along.

That kitsch today wears trendy clothes —
A film, a flashy beat.
The world’s gone fascist — head to toes —
Yet dopes scream “choice!” in heat.

CowID unmasked that sacred "right,"
That "freedom" — such a mess!
We'll march again with heads held high…
Into the End, no less.

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

"Socialite": A Short-Lived Delight

The “socialite” tale won’t last for long —
It’s forced, it’s hollow, thin.
Fatigue builds up, the nerves go wrong,
And emptiness eats within.

Where purpose dies, no light survives —
Just Darkness takes the throne.
Their “grandeur” is just spoiled drives,
No Honor. No Thought. Just tone.

They serve the BEAST with plastic grace,
Obeying soulless brutes —
That polished mask, that shining face
Conceals corruption's roots.

They melt and mold to fit the role,
Their gloss a failing shield.
Only the Makers keep a soul —
Humble in form, yet steeled.

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

"Flowers of Life"

“Adults” have children — living toys —
To fill the void inside.
Their friendships fake, their pleasures noise,
They breed more loss and pride.

Be it in spirit or in coin,
That poverty runs deep.
The law of likeness will rejoin,
And leave its messy streak.

Only a surplus, fierce and bright,
Can raise a child to bloom —
That power born of inner light,
Of grown, unfaltering room.

Maturity — the truest grace,
No treasure shines the same.
With it, no fool shall take your place —
Without it, all’s a game.

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

The Law

The Law forever stands on guard —
It seals the prison gate.
Its rules are penned by demons hard
In "democratic" hate.

It weaves a thread of "rights" so thin
Through legal filth and shame —
A thread that binds the slave within
The system’s very name.

When three in four are poor and blind,
The world becomes a jail.
And "leaders" — bait for those inclined
To chase a holy grail.

For those who rise just build the chain
That keeps the masses bound.
No ancient tyrant need remain —
New laws will soon be found:

A flashing screen, a legal twist,
To blur the core of life.
While in the shadows, evil fists
Prepare the next world strife.

Degeneration codified —
That’s Law’s true, hidden face.
It only acts with wrath and pride
When crushing truth or grace.

Through acts and "bylaws" they deploy,
They rape the world by ink —
True terror wears a clean decoy.
They lie more than you think.

So take your "sacred constitution"
And flush it down the drain.
When judged with honest resolution,
It screams: "They kill again!"

That war and CowID made it plain —
The filth is system-wide.
Obeying BEASTS brings only shame,
Unless you’ve lost your mind.

The Law is written for the ass —
Not minds that dare to shine.
The Soul alone can break that glass
And race toward the Divine.

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

"Life's So Good!" — this phrase could sum
The state of most we see.
For madness speaks with keys to some,
In waking delirium, free.

All those who prattle, lost and low,
They kill the mind with lies.
"Normal" here is just a show —
In Hell, the noise defies.

Through intuition, Truth will free
From mind's deceiving trap.
You’ll see the fools in misery,
Trapped in their verbal crap.

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

;Pennyless as an Endangered Breed

We’ve got the cash, but greed holds sway,
A wicked force through every dime.
The common folk won’t dare to say —
In them, the pennyless is crime.

But is it madness, when they lack?
Here greed’s a "norm," and so it grows,
The stench of filth will lead them back,
Teaching slaves to serve their woes.

School will teach them, all in line,
Few realize the truth they’re sold:
For cash, they bend — a twisted spine,
And only fools will stoop for gold.

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

;School

To trust in science, bow and bend,
Is what they teach — no other way.
They call it school, but in the end,
Hell won’t let you stray — just eat decay!

Decay of thought, where slavery’s hid
Behind a “light” that’s full of lies.
In “democracy,” a tyrant's bid,
The school’s true goal is stunted minds.

False science preached by proto-priest,
While Spirit’s heresy is banned.
The rack and stake are now deceased,
But Bred Decay strikes harder, unplanned.

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

The Global Pen

The sheep’s grown used to this foul pen,
It feels like home, where guts are thinned,
Shorn and led to slaughter's door.
CowID's the sign, and so is war —

A first step taken. The pen will grow,
Not a red flag, but a white will show.
They'll widen it, with poison stronger,
As the media attacks, it stinks longer.

White flag, with red cross clearly seen,
Look around — all here’s in vain, obscene.
The beasts, through media, drive them on,
The sheep don’t care — it’s all a con.

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

Lie Upon Lie

Lie upon lie, and let them grow —
And you'll build a "wonderful" world, you know.
But dog’s dung is all you’ll find,
Where falsehood's idol rules the mind.

And on top, the MADNESS reigns,
Wild and, at times, a twisted gain.
For every question, the answer's clear —
More lies piled on, the plague is here.

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

Agony of the World

What to do in this agony,
Complain, or still wait
For cheese that’s free,
As the world’s twisted fate?

Spirit’s desire,
With the belly on stake,
Considers this fire
The law we must make.

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

The Few Are Right

The few are right, but praised, they won’t be,
They’ll be hated, not set free.
To honor them? The traitor's way,
Is what the world will choose to say.

Being right is dangerous,
To the dull, the voiceless, furious.
But with the traitors, oil's applied,
And “cheerful” is the lie they hide.

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

The Fog of Infernality

To "accept reality,"
That is, infernality —
One must become a creature,
With a mind that's lost to feature.

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

Globalization

The simple SLUDGE —
The sheep are glad.
The pen’s a grudge —
The vermin trim them bad.

Then comes the skewers —
"Care," they cry aloud.
The sheep are sure,
To Madness they’re bowed.

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

Bitter Consolation

A bitter joy —
To write a rhyme:
It takes some strain,
Silence leads to grime.

To burn the rot —
A task too steep.
Fortune’s tale,
In soulless heaps.

So many are soulless,
Bigger every day.
The time is here —
Rot will burn away.

The sun grows stronger,
Shining, it will burn,
Turning all to ash,
The foul, decaying urn.

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

"Carefree Childhood"

A play of the children
By the rotting slaves —
At home, they’ll meet
Hell, crafted by knaves.

Their fate they’ll destroy,
As if they're the foe.
They’ll "love" them with lies
And lies they'll bestow.

The family’s a mess,
If slavery's not known.
All is made of spite,
"Kindness" overthrown.

Falsehood veils the shame,
Truth’s long been erased.
You’ll step out, half-dead,
To a life laid to waste.

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

;Final Stop

"Men are like dice: we throw ourselves forward into life."
— Jean-Paul Sartre

Sartre was wrong — you’re not the one
Who casts the dice beneath the sun.
It’s vermin hurling lies instead,
And you slip with the herd ahead.

This farce of life won’t shift the game —
Chance plays no role in slime and shame.
Through lies, the blind and slow all crawl,
Toward Decay, through salt — and fall.

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

Evening Dullness

The bitch called Boredom won’t attack —
A brand new day is on the track.
You’ll sleep it off, then slave again —
And boredom’s back by evening’s end.

It feeds on dusk like sacred bread.
A poet’s life is truly... strange:
You’re drained by lines inside your head —
Yet write again. You chase the range

Of PHANTOMS in each aching phrase.
Much better to, in midnight haze,
Go search once more (though never quite...)
For dreams that vanish out of sight.

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

Makhno’s Tachanka

Makhno’s wild cart
Tore Austrians apart —
Turned ranks to muck.
Now fools run amok,
All “Austrians” anew,
In squads of stinking goo,
Thrown at the wise. But lo —
The Word strikes hard, like so!

Now poems charge instead,
Tachankas forged in lead.
This filth won’t make us kneel:
We fell — in horror — real!

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

Winnie the Pooh and Piglet Kebab

There’s sawdust swirling in my head —
Not simple — finely tuned instead
To screams and shrieks both night and day.
Not duty — joy! I like it that way.

The media leads the bears in rows
To chop up Piglets — that’s how it goes.
It must be done — no time to sob:
The meat won’t walk into the kebab.

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

Under the Pressure of Madness

To slaughter like to celebration —
March on, oh crowd, in grim elation!
Refuse to join? Then you’re a traitor.
Your punishment is coming later.

A brand-new F;hrer leads the chase,
A master of decaying grace —
Makes Hitler, Goebbels look like jokes,
His Mirages choke and smoke.

“Lies like Trotsky” — that’s pass;.
This clone breaks bottoms all the way.
His sheer INSANITY barrage
Can pierce through any deep mirage!

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

The Surrealism of Verse

The river, frozen, casts a spell —
I long to swim its icy shell.
For winter is the poet’s time,
Though pools aren’t great for soaking rhyme.

That “soaking” bit? Just rhyme’s caprice —
It leads you off like some disease.
Your lines — like reefs in desert land —
Make sense no more, but somehow stand.

No sunburn here — I burn inside,
As madness sweeps across the tide.
I count the days till warmth has won —
The river drowns the nonsense. Gone.

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

Peace to the World?

"Peace on Earth!" The mouse gets cheese.
But is it peace, or just a tease?
Is “the people” just a rat
In a trap — imagine that!

Ruled by scum, half-demons grinning,
Schemes on schemes — there's no beginning.
Wars and CowID mark the start...
SHAME and DISGRACE tear us apart!

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

The Sheep and the Kebab

The kebab’s a nightmare for the sheep —
A twisted tale, so dark and deep.
To the slaughterhouse they march with cheer,
Praising Darkness, drawing near.

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

In Hell. In Madness.

In Hell. In haze.
All's lost, it seems...
What will I find?
Just rot and dreams.

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

My Poems That I Don’t Like

The fleeting verses that I despise,
Will find the greatest praise, no surprise.
Who complains of excess in art’s design,
Is like a miser, losing his dime.

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

The Ruling Cunt

Till the last soldier’s gone,
With a mandate to press on...
And that cunt will forge, with glee,
The mandate, never paying the fee.

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

Dogmatism of Pseudoscience and Its Aims

Dogmatism’s in excess, you see—
A pseudoscience, dear friends, indeed:
A heap of lies and utter dross,
That ne’er shall wear its truthful crown.

For those who pay with endless cash,
Replace pure faith with false preaches;
They heap on drivel meant to clash
With change that soon their hearts beseech.

Then comes a camp of digital guise—
A brand-new order, sleek and odd:
Truth confined in buggy, flawed devices,
A chip in hand, the urban guard.

In this charade of feigned disease,
The “cures” turn venom for the meek.
Submission’s praised—in such a breeze—
For humans, not for cattle, we must seek.

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

The Devil and the Sheep

The Devil. The Sheep.
He’s worse than hell itself!
Though the Devil’s stubborn,
The Sheep’s so damn dull!
All Evil flows through this —
To the world’s cold, lifeless corpse.
Look through the prism clear:
The Devil, the Sheep —
A single, deadly link.
And the path to fascism
Is masked by helmets thick.

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

;Twilight of Mind in the Global Camp

"Errors multiply on a wrong path."
— Francis Bacon, 17th century

The herd, misled by “noble” visions,
Still hunts for joy that isn't there.
That road leads deep to dark divisions—
And dusk already chills the air.

Now twilight falls. And evil’s thriving,
Spewing dumb lies like CowID.
Deceit and fear are unforgiving—
They’ll crush the last of minds that see.

The Camp stands watch, its rule enforcing:
That none with sense shall have a say.
No dawn for us. The brute, unknowing,
Will drag the world the other way.

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

Furious Verse Flies Like an Arrow

A furious verse — it flies, it burns,
You barely catch it, hand still shaking.
Don’t just write — let wrath take turns,
Be yourself — a shot worth making.

If the bow is tuned and steady,
Every arrow finds its way.
Now the question: who’s the enemy?
All the sick minds in decay!

Lone and raging, still I’m standing—
Crowds of madmen all around.
Should I master fire-branding,
Let my poems torch the ground?

Incendiary bombs I’m loading,
Feathered well in rhyming flame—
Drop them on the catacombing
World where we decay in shame.

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

Outworn Forms Are Swept by Death

Outworn forms, by Death's own making,
Are swept away — that’s Life’s domain.
Believe the Inner Light, unshaking:
It shines through Time — though mules complain.

And if for ages, fools and losers
Keep choking Earth in stinking smog,
Then Life itself may lose its users—
Death clears what’s bent. That’s nature’s log.

When Satan’s rot commands creation,
Let Armageddon break the chain.
Don’t fear — embrace the grand salvation:
It frees the Soul through sacred flame.

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

Dominant Theories and Ideologies

One-sided freaks — deranged, unstable,
Phase-shifted minds beyond repair —
They'll triumph, sit at every table,
Their dogmas poisoning the air.

Their twisted "truth" becomes the beacon
For brainless herds who chant along.
Together, they will crush what's weakened—
And praise the rot that makes them strong.

These monsters rise by foul selection,
The scum promoted to the throne.
That’s how we reached this low infection,
Worshipping the mindless drone.

Leninisms, Freudish isms—
All that intellectual trash—
Are loyal tools of new fascisms,
Each a blight, a brainwashed rash.

They shove this garbage down from childhood,
Kill off reason, shame, and pride.
All their "doctrines" serve the vilehood—
Darkness geared for genocide.

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

Free Interpretation of Mythical (and Not-so-Mythical) Figures

The toilet floods with piss and lies —
Behold the world, in full disguise.
Not a slave, nor orphaned soul?
Then run — the Satyr’s in control.

He’s not some goat from ancient song,
His beastly will has ruled too long.
He came here early, claimed the stall,
And made the mindless hordes his thrall.

He’s Satan too — just change the name.
Obey him, and you bear the shame
Of scorning Spirit pure and bright,
While kissing demons robed in night.

No "higher powers" guide this mess —
The myths just sell us noble stress.
You crown a skeleton in dust?
He'll be your "god" — and earn your trust.

Even "best" gods are a scam:
Myths for fools — a mental jam.
They bleach the vilest Dark with lore
And shove their madness evermore.

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

Gut Sense — Stream and Surge

Lies entwine in twisted chains,
Knots of chaos, dark remains.
Truth stays hidden, out of frame,
If your mind is weak and lame.

To unwind the lie’s invention,
Watch for motives, flaws, pretense.
Though the fiends show fierce intention,
Intuition cuts — like sense.

Mind without that blade’s direction
Stays in primal, dull despair.
First, a trickle — pure connection,
Then a flood that strips things bare.

Break the blocks your mind erected,
Let the deeper current in.
Snakes and frauds shall be ejected
By the Higher Force within.

That force lives as intuition —
Feel it burn, a sacred thread.
Lack it — rot becomes your mission,
And decay your path instead.

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

Implanted "Dreams"

"The less you know, the better sleep" —
Soon turns into a deathlike trance.
You shrink into a twitching sheep
As dreams are steered by sly advance.

There’s a whole dream-manufacturing
Industry of fog and lies.
And forgetting what is anchoring
Leads straight to the darkened skies.

Call it sleep or call it falling,
Through the mirror — doesn’t matter.
Truth gets drowned beneath the sprawling
Wave of lies none dares to shatter.

Wake yourself — and shake away
Every phantom, every scheme.
Hesitate not for a day —
Rot begins with such a dream.

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

;The Scythe of Death

Time’s a treasure — guard it tightly,
Life is frail, and death is near.
Waste it blindly, speak it lightly —
It will strike, and not from fear.

Strain your soul and mind with meaning,
Leave your mark, a jagged trace
On the world — not whining, preening,
Not in praise of empty grace.

Trash is everywhere — it's crawling,
Spawn of Dark, its slaves in tow.
Let your wound be bold, appalling —
Cut through Lies with what you know.

Time’s a teacher, strict and bitter,
And it tests what you defend:
Are you fighting with the critters,
Or has Madness reached your end?

In the muck, you’ll fail to notice
How you sank, betrayed, and fell.
There you’ll meet the lowest rotters —
Joining them’s a route to Hell.

Few still forge with flame and fire,
But the bootlicks crowd the land.
Mankind's circling the mire —
Only wreckage lies at hand.

Time now passes like a sentence,
Final warnings fill the sky.
No escape and no repentance...
Shall we praise the Scythe, and die?

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

;A Flare of Light — or Murky Glare

"What the higher soul desires lies within;
The lower seeks in others." — Confucius

The lowly beg, they tear, they cling,
For "love" and junk and anything.
But Seekers of the Real depart
The outer noise — they search the heart.

They leave behind the Bedlam’s rot,
At least in thought — they chase it not.
With sharpened sense, they walk within,
Where Light begins, not sludge or sin.

That Light alone completes the quest,
It stills the mind, it grants true rest.
The low are born of foul decay,
The high — of Light, their inner way.

So follow yours — and you shall find
A flare within the storm and grind:
A spark that cuts through all the gloom
Of souls degrading into doom.

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

;Just Your Average Armageddon

"The world always returns to normal.
The question is — whose."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec

The "norm" is set by Gullets vast
That swallow Spirit, grind the Mind.
So flee the slaves of Hell amassed —
Seek where the soul’s not dumb and blind!

This world is run by fiends infernal,
Exceptions? Rare — and fading fast.
CowID dreams and cults fraternal
Grow from rot that’s meant to last.

But introspection, intuition,
Critical thought — your truest tools.
To walk the Path, outstrip your fiction,
And dodge the traps of demon schools.

For through the "self" the demons bore
Their detours straight into your Heart.
With sharp critique, just slam the door —
Purge the rot, and tear apart.

Look within — the Light is hiding,
Only insight brings it back.
And your sense will start providing
Vision far beyond the black.

This is the value left unbroken
In the Hell now cracking wide.
The Underworld — it smells the omen:
It hates collapse, it hates the tide.

The sun burns brighter, turns the heat —
The sweat lodge rises, cleansing fire!
The dullards drool in their defeat —
This steam will strip them of their liar.

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

;Torture

"Prosperity reveals our vice;
Adversity shows virtue's face."
— Francis Bacon

Now take a look — a steady stare —
At mobs below and "lords" above.
While pain is clawing through the air,
Don’t drown in grief, don’t beg for love.

Degenerates and soulless traitors,
A plague of vice on every side.
But where are our so-called creators?
Where has our virtue gone to hide?

It feeds on food and sex and chatter,
And passes "values" to the young —
Slave-born ideals that rot and shatter.
The few who rise are bit and stung...

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

Ornaments

An amulet to banish Lies?
You won’t find that — no surprise.
Lies are sold as “common sense,”
Drilling straight through all defense.

Rock bottom? Boring. Time to drop
Into a fresher, deeper slop!
The dunce delights in his belief:
“This world’s the best!” — the height of grief.

A brighter Hell? Now that’s the plan!
A digital leash for every man.
The mob will cheer — they’ll praise the brand
That chains their necks with gilded bands.

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

Allah! Allah Will Provide

“Just praise His name — He’ll see you through!”
Repeat it louder, day and night.
Your lusts He’ll shower gold upon —
Then ship you off to Paradise.

Like children beg for sweets and toys,
So “grown-ups” pray for cash and bling
From “higher powers.” Empty noise —
Paper tigers rule that ring.

No need to beg, no point to kneel:
No higher force in Hell remains.
The only voice that might still feel
Your cries… is Zoyl — and he disdains.

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

The Glamour Veil

This glamour — not a noble vice —
Just blind obedience at a price.
The fools obey with hungry grins
For junk and foodstuff in their bins.

If you’ve a brain that still can burn,
You’ll find no place — no madman’s turn —
Inside this padded, howling dome
Where fascist dough is shaped as "home."

They bake up "heroes" on command —
Addicted drones, a loyal band.
And marching proud in perfect line,
They head for Camp Global Divine...

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

Dust

Fascist censors run the show —
Google, YouTube, all in tow.
A culture taught to kneel and nod.
The media — a monster's squad.

Deceit and rot — the new ideal,
With sticky fear in every deal.
All serve the Devil, mask and grin —
This world is dust, consumed by sin.

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

;Mind — a Nest of Twisted Wires

The mind’s a nest of nervous fires,
Breeding threats as fear requires.
Fear now rules this wretched land —
Worse ahead, as planned and planned:

Fake diseases, wars, delusion,
Dumbing down through mass confusion.
That’s the goal the BEAST pursues —
To spread neurosis like a noose.

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

Sharp and Loud

Loud — then sharp:
Is that choice?
Loud is just
The void's own voice.

Sharp and simple — stay awake!
Let your verses bite and break!
Sharper still — the poison bleeds.
Drink it deep — that’s what it feeds.

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

Brain Drain

“Virus! Virus!!!”
Screams insane —
Death of thought,
Then off the train.

Lies believed —
Hell’s tightening noose.
“What’s the loss?”
We need more juice!

Push the numbers, make it hurt —
Punish “people,”
Grind in dirt.

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

;The Ultimate Price

"Nothing is bought at a higher price than a piece of the human mind and freedom."
— Friedrich Nietzsche

Madness rising,
Sales enticing.
Souls for garbage — cheap exchange:
Honor, thought, and freedom — strange

How they vanish for a screen,
Spewing filth in toxic sheen.
Hell is here — but who would know?
Chains of lies don't always show.

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

;Where Are You From — and Where You Head?

Where are you from, and where you go —
The riddle haunts the soul below.
For centuries they've dulled our sight:
Man falls for lies, not truth or light.

The beast deceives, the soul is weak,
The mind? A joke — don't even speak.
So don’t rely on hollow thought —
Let instinct cut the lies you're caught.

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

;True Effort

True effort, when it’s rightly aimed,
Is worth more than all "success" acclaimed.
For lies pile high to fool the weak,
Who trade their faith for gold they seek.

They offer money, fame, and praise,
For energy in endless haze.
But those who act with rightful mind,
Will feel the Winds of Change unwind.

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

Poverty and Pain

Poverty and pain —
The Force of Will,
Of Spirit, Mind,
And reason's thrill.

The sum has torn,
It’s cracked, undone...

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

Moderation

Balance, restraint —
A tested way,
But mark my words —
It breeds decay.

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

;"Carrot" Stronger Than Steel

A "carrot" turns the soul,
A slave who believes in lies.
Come now, get new clothes —
At the Market of Empty Minds!

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

Non-Sellability

Great efforts, yet frail fruits,
Does that drive you to despair?
If it’s for yourself, the pursuit,
The judgments won’t compare.

All ratings, hype, and noise,
Are just mere froth on top,
While money’s tempting, false,
It pulls you down, won’t stop.

Efforts of the mind and soul,
In a world so lost, so grim,
Bribed by sound, by pleasure's toll,
Dragged down by greed’s dark whim.

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

;The Global Masturbator of Feelings and Emotions

Strike the feelings, crush the mind,
So you’ll lose yourself, confined —
That’s the policy of freaks,
In a world of slaves, the weak.

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

Cages and Chains?
The BEASTS mark
All the slaves with nonsense, while the "treat"
Is the prize in the Fascist’s deceit.

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

;"Normal" Madness

"Normal" madness reigns,
The one that's ruling now,
Fools are preaching,
The masses screeching,
Cold blood runs, lost somehow.
Once a stage, now gone to waste,
All will vanish, erased.

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

"A Magnifying Glass" for the Soul

To magnify is to erase—
Like a bug beneath the lens.
Every glance becomes disgrace,
Every thought just weak pretense.

Peer more closely, skip the filter,
Use the glass and look inside—
See how bright illusions wither,
How uniqueness tends to hide.

Time dissolves in dull routines,
In a tiny, choking sphere.
What remains? Not human beings—
Just a mask, a grin, a sneer.

Lies are "normal", lies are countless—
Pick your flavor, take your pick.
Underneath: decay and doubtless
Cowardice and ego slick.

Few escape the crushing burden—
Since their youth, they’re taught to kneel.
Fear’s the mold, and stress the warden,
Grinding souls like dust from steel.

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

The Idiotocracy

Fear smothers love, corrupts the mind,
It spreads again — a foe designed.
It rules the masses, cold and sly,
And sends its poison from on high.

The “school” installs it in your chest,
The media fans all the rest.
The fool believes what liars say —
They "comfort" him along the way.

They pump up fear through polished lies.
Lies flood the madhouse — global size.
Stack lie on lie, and soon you'll see
A nation sleepwalk, comatose, “free.”

Cast fear out with the Spirit’s flame —
A fortress none can ever tame.
Evil has minions, small and loud —
To fear those gnats? Absurd and proud.

These petty creeps — a comic blight.
Through humor we reclaim the fight.
A war of soul in full deploy
Against the world’s idiot convoy.

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

The Shrinking of Mind — and the “Real” World

To shrink is death, in sly disguise.
They shrink your world through friendly lies:
“Obey the beasts, they know what's true!”
And drones march off — to work, to rue.

They shrink the world to filth and drains,
To toilet bowls and sewered brains.
They call the sludge a sacred balm —
And bleat in blissful, shitty calm.

This narrowing infects the mind,
And what you see gets redefined.
The dumb herd trudges to the knife —
No hole, no stall will spare a life.

For slaughter waits where thought has thinned,
Where beasts are served and truth is skinned.
This is betrayal’s grand reward —
Or simply: man reduced to horde.

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

"Professional" Chewing Gum

A “pro” consumer, proud and prim,
Devours GMOs on whim —
Lies, junk, temptation wrapped as fun,
He gulps down filth by ton for ton.

His mind and body rot with grace —
He calls it “fuel” and sets the pace.
This “pro” just grins in his abyss,
His room a tomb of cowardice.

The gum is labeled “Pro,” you see —
With “Orbit” slapped on lazily.
A pack of gum, some cash, some screen —
And “happiness” through holes obscene.

His kids must learn this holy trade:
To dumb them down, the schools parade
A set of tools — all upside-down —
To smooth their minds and let them drown.

The schools, the media know the drill —
They grow the idiot with skill.
They say: “We plant the seeds of grace!”
But reap a limp, lobotomized face.

These “pros” are fools, en masse, enshrined —
The reigning caste: the thought-assigned.
The BEASTS adore this blessed land —
Where soulless swarms obey command.

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

Brain Removal via Lies

Just multiply the global lie —
And watch the idiot comply.
He'll knock and smile at your front gate,
Syringe in hand — to "vaccinate".

A prick is cheaper than a shell,
And hits more neatly — works as well.
The BEAST, through “health” and “expert” prattle,
Still culls the herd without a battle.

They’re not human if they trust
Rot and sludge disguised as "just."
Don’t waste breath to change their stance —
You’d have more luck with stones that dance.

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

"Isms"

All the “isms” — brain disease,
Crooked thoughts dressed up to please.
Each one claws toward some “Ideal,”
Till minds forget how humans feel.

They become just blank displays,
Echoing those worn-out ways —
Primitive and crude by birth,
Bending facts to prove their worth.

The farce rolls on, a mad parade,
Till some new “ism” makes a raid —
It kicks the old one out the door,
And fills the screens with its new "lore".

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

The Final Circle of Hell

Greed walks fast — in seven-league boots —
They call it “progress” as it loots.
And all around, a dulled-out mess —
The end result: dumbed-down success.

A crushing greed applies the weight,
With foolish minds to fuel the fate.
Through greed and stupid souls en masse,
We've reached Hell’s bottom — pure, dead glass.

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

;The Correctness of the Lonely Warrior

“Truth stands above people and should not fear it.”
— Vissarion Belinsky

Darkness rules — that much is clear.
Rot and ruin swarm the sphere.
Be the truth, or be erased —
There’s no middle path embraced.

Do not flinch — it’s far too late
To bow in fear before dark fate.
"Plagues" and wars now flood the land,
Lies grow bold on every hand.

Each year worse — decay ascends.
Fear and Falsehood run as friends.
Be the axe in servants’ eyes —
The Lonely Warrior never lies.

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

The Daredevil Who Conquered Fear

Danger? Just chatter.
Slander? No matter.
Once you allow
Your boldness to shatter
The filth that floods in from the bastard brigade —
You’ll mock every vice with a smirk, unafraid.

The BEAST rules the herd through the tremble and scream —
But a wild daredevil won’t fit in that scheme.

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

;The Machine World

“The real threat to man is not machines or chemicals. The real threat has already entered the core of human existence.”
— Martin Heidegger

A world of machines. You’re not one? Prove it.
With CowID, with war — absurd and stupid.
The twisted spines, the vacant eyes,
The herd obeys, believes the lies.

The fuel is lies — injected fast,
Through veins they flow, from first to last.
The “men” rise up — to punch, not think,
While freedom’s just a poisoned drink.

They're proud to march — enslaved, yet loud,
Just call it “freedom,” and they’re proud.
This plague of fools will drag us low —
Past rock bottom, straight through the Dno.

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

;Spiritual Vision and the World's Vile Rot

Faith in “God”?
Or faith in you?
To pierce the fog,
Love what is true.
To truly see,
The soul must guide —
Or you’ll be swept
By filth and pride.

The soul untouched will rise and glow,
But join the rot — and you’ll sink low.
Detach from evil, or you’re caught —
Just one more fool the world has bought.

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

The F;hrer of the Madhouse

Hell has frozen — here's our F;hrer!
Loud and proud — but not much surer.
And the crowd, once known for might,
Now believes this clown is right.

Drunk on nonsense, near elation,
In a fog of degradation,
They applaud the ashtray preacher —
The madhouse roars. He is their teacher.

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

The Chance to Create Yourself

It’s tough —
But not the end.
No luck?
You missed the trend?

That excuse
Is rot for cinders —
Just dead souls
With dying embers.

Smash the wall,
Let fire rise.
Show your fist
To captive lies —

Through creations bold and burning —
Even poems, ever yearning.

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

Surrealist “Picnic in the Open”

Crust of lies
On fear-made butter.
Ashes rise
Through dreamlike clutter.

Chew the lie,
Then eat the heap.
Sip some swill —
Let numbness creep,

So the ash
Becomes a view,
And your crash —
A feast for two.

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

Money in the Filth

Money calls from Hell’s own pit,
And you sell your soul for it.
If your mind is sheepish clay,
You’ll call that “joy” along the way.

But this filth plays by no rule —
Beasts will squeeze you like a tool.
Wave “success” before your face —
Then drain you dry without a trace.

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

Murk and Fear. A Lonely Way
Through fire, lies, and full dismay.
Stand alone beneath the hail
Of total falsehood — do not fail.

Be the brave one — hold your ground,
If your truth is battle-bound.
Truth’s your cause — the rest is free.
In war with Evil's tyranny,

Meekness is the primal sin —
So strike the dark. And strike within.

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

“Flowers of Evil”

“Just focus on the light,” they say,
Forget the horrors of decay —
And in that blissful, blind retreat
The Weed of Evil finds its seat.

It clings, it spreads, it haunts the air,
Its roots are lies, its bloom — despair.
And evil, masked by ignorance,
Peers through their dreams with twisted glance.

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

Mirror, Mirror, Cruel and Grim...

Mirror, mirror, harsh and clear —
Who’s the fiercest one you fear?
The unbending Russian soul?
No — the khokhol plays darker role.

He strikes Russians with a glare,
Swears his strength comes from the air.
Guards each inch of village dirt —
Lest the Moskal brings it to hurt.

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

;Junk “Classics” and Fake School Lore

The wise one knows: when art turns dull,
It rots — a death without a skull.
In schools they feed the kids pure lies,
Fake “truths” that petrify their minds.

And once that stone is fully set,
It won’t be cracked — not even yet.
So youth, start thinking while you can —
At thirty, Mind won’t make a man.

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

Feminine “Charms”

The body — battlefield,
Where soul’s asleep or sealed.
The war is sharp as steel —
And rot is all it yields.

Wrapped in glossy lies,
It lures with deadly glow.
You bite — and pay the price:
The blade will shape you low.

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

Silent Slaves

Amid the shameful, swirling mess,
The minds decay, they’re in distress.
The chaos says, “We’re not the slaves,”
But in truth, they’re silent graves.

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

A F;hrer in Zombie Disguise

A F;hrer dressed in zombie skin,
So dumb, you'd swear he’s just your kin —
A cousin to the fool and clown,
A soulmate to the lowlife crowd.

That crowd is vast — the final score
Of silent genocide and war.
If you’re not dull in this parade —
You’re pastry tossed in a latrine’s shade.

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

;Gas Exchange: Thought and Matter

The air we breathe, the world, the skin —
They twist the Thought that flows within.
Distorted well — a grand conceit —
And thus was born Debility.

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

;Serve No Evil Homeland

Serve no land that’s steeped in lies —
Bow to Truth, not flags or cries.
Then you'll walk a noble way,
Clean of thought, by light of day.

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

The Worm’s Last Century

Was it Worm or Wretch that reigned?
Twisted times were preordained.
Change erupts — the herds start marching,
Led like sheep, their brains discharging.

Not through desert, but through waste,
Filth and fear — a bitter taste.
Welcome now the Drainage Age —
We’ve earned it well. Enjoy the cage.

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

Total Censorship by Pseudo-Search Lords

“Let thoughts be countless, so no censor keeps up.”
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec

Dullness rules — and now the censor
Is your god, your thought dispenser.
Search engines obey the crown,
Cracking minds and shutting down.

So multiply your thoughts, be daring —
Don’t get used to evil’s bearing.

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

;The Fatal Reign of the Abnormal

Abnormals crowned — a fate relentless,
The world’s gone dark, infernal, senseless.
To feel is now a sacred rite,
While storms of lies blot out the light.

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

The Slushy Fool

A dribbling dunce blocks up your way,
His head’s half-melted into clay.
Avoid him — sticky, slow, diseased,
His leaking rot is not appeased.

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

Change as Froth

"Change" is froth, when shame’s the stream
Flowing through a shallow dream.
Fools call it “the past’s great voice”—
Just old foam, but not by choice.

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

The Madhouse

A madhouse fool with brains of clay —
That’s the whole damn world today!

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

;From Hell to Hell, and Through Again

From Hell to Hell, and through the flame —
Each circle plays the devil’s game.
Yet still the herd runs, blind and glad —
A slave is dumb, but rarely sad.

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

Combat Media

Slither through the slime and scum—
Is that a life? A job well done?
Scum attacks where threads are thin—
Hence the stench, the creeping sin.

Subtle souls are shoved aside—
Trash promotion, truth denied.
All the rest—just dough, just clay:
Molded lies in foul array.

Rotten nonsense, mass-produced—
Vermin’s craft, unchained, let loose.
Brutes in charge—relentless freaks—
Rotting peace is all it seeks.

Yet success is near-complete:
Soon the press will serve the Beast.
Don’t you crawl, unless you’re vile...
Or you’ll choke in filth and guile.

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

The Pseudoscience Fragment Trick

Smash it to pieces,
Then crudely re-glue it —
That’s “science” today,
Our god, so they bray.
But bastards who do it
Are frauds and deceivers,
And people obey —
Like sheep gone astray.

They stitch up the horror
With purpose — distorted —
A world with no soul
Is all they portray.
And once they’ve contorted
The truth they’ve aborted,
The masses will stroll
In file, led away

To pens full of chatter
And lies that grow louder,
While all that is real
Is trampled and killed.

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

False Science: Detail and Blur

All on nothing dwells,
Nothing on it tells —
Twisting truth like hells
Till your conscience gels.
Wade into the grime
Of fake-science slime —
Spirit is the base?
Screw it. We're the race
Of demonic pawns.
In the chaos spawns
Of our dead ideals,
Truth dissolves, it kneels.

Media will cite
Us as guiding light —
While we cut the cord
To the higher Lord.
We unleash the reign
Of the blind and vain.
To be blunt and crass:
Yes — we all are SCUM.

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

Flying Fish

No fathead carp, for sure —
They’re heavy, dull, and proud.
A sunken kind of “pure,”
Respected in their crowd.

But some still dream of flight,
To breach the water’s hold —
Escape the swamp’s long night,
If only for a fold.

Who rises from the grime?
Who dares to leave the pond —
Where weeds, like ancient slime,
Devour those who respond?

The carp loves muck and mud,
It's home — a cozy pit.
No stirrings in his blood,
Though all around is shit.

But fly — or rot below.
There is no in-between.
Let carps adore the flow
Of sludge they deem serene.

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

What Made You So Broken?

What made you so broken, so low?
Where’s the fire you once had inside?
You wander like husks in the shadow —
No soul, just a hide you now hide.

You traded your spirit for wages,
Chose chains for the sake of a bone,
Now rot in the hell that you staged —
Lashed onward by lies overthrown.

Corrupted, enslaved, and compliant,
You sink, and you scream not a word.
At rock bottom, limp and "defiant",
You don’t even see that it’s absurd.

It’s not “them” — you’re the disgrace.
No monster could dream to create
A world that would stoop to embrace
This filth you still dare tolerate.

The price? It is written in flame.
The fall — it is coming, no doubt.
When fascist delusions proclaim
Their “truth” — and the rabble buys out.

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

Strain and Surge

Life is lived through grinding —
Friendship’s gone or hiding.
Push with all you’ve got — and
Weakness comes to naught.

Lone, defiant fighter —
None but he climbs higher,
Breaks from Hell’s dead zone,
Far from herds of drones.

Swinging like a pendulum,
Spent, he slumps — momentum gone.
But he will return again,
Flame will rise and burn again.

Flare up! Burn completely!
Fight the dark — not sweetly.
If you love this Hellish stay,
You're just meat — and not far from the blade.

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

Little Thought — Lots of Fire

Little thought,
Lots of fire.
Count it out —
Check desire.
When emotions storm and crash,
Guard your mind — or you're just trash,
Bleating in some madhouse pit,
Broken down to barely fit.

Think too much — you’ll start to bite.
Boldness is your only right.
In this madhouse, stay alive —
Only rebels will survive.

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

Ping-Pong

Ping — pong — ping — pong —
Who’s the sheep? The gong plays strong.
Ping — too weak?
Pong — a blow below.
Too bleak?
Evil plays by rules that show
Only in some film or fiction —
Truth’s a lie for mass conviction.

Ping’s the bait, and pong, you see,
Is genocide — of thought, of meat.

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

Lip-Flappers

Lip-flap crew —
In deep poo.
March to "bliss" —
Mall-bound, too.
They will guide you
To the market —
There they’ll grind you
In the target.

Digital or not — who cares?
Camp or store — it's set with snares.
All looks clean, well-lit, and catchy...
Lip-flaps swear that this is "happy."
Too bad truth looks less than snappy.

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

Thrown Away for Nothing

SCUM: they kill you through the lie.
Push against it — do not die,
Even when the fools surround you,
Bleeding out what strength is in you.

Fools are many, loud and proud —
In this world, the vile rule loud.
But your soul you still can keep —
Fighting on, for zero reap.

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

;“Professionalism” — A Cult in Disguise

Ockham’s Razor? Now a script —
A software glitch in logic’s crypt.
No one's close to thought or art;
They grunt like hogs and call it “smart.”
A poet’s word and hack’s dull spit —
Worlds apart. And we eat it.

All decays — no soul, no craft...
The "pros" just guard their petty raft.
They speak in jargon, thick and dead,
To keep out minds they truly dread.
It’s not about skill — it’s a mask, a scheme:
A gatekeeping priesthood of mediocrity's dream.

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

"GazMeat", "RusAg",
And "MadTech Global" —
The boss? A thug.
The rulers? Noble...

Worms, that feast
On a corpse, decaying —
A wretched beast
That forgot all praying.

A nation crude,
Soul burnt to ember —
Vile and rude —
Too numb to remember.

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

Bitter Truth, and Sticky Lies

Bitter truth, and sticky lies —
Lies get sugar, truth — goodbyes.
One small spoon of bitter pain,
Drowned beneath a sweetened rain.

First, a drop. Then comes the flood.
Bitter’s real — but sweet sells blood.
Truth’s too sharp, too hard to chew...
So they stall — and swallow you.

And the herd? They lick the plate,
Smile wide and call it fate.
"Better sweet and full of shit,
Than awake — and choked on grit."

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

Templates

Cut to fit —
You’re done, that’s it.
Thought is dead
Where molds are spread.

Stuck in frames?
Enjoy your cage.
Template minds —
Template rage.

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

;Three-Fingered, or The Rule of the Rich

Yeltsin, dull and vicious —
How many lay in ditches?
Preach "democracy" aloud —
Or bow before the greedy crowd?
Raging at their lies and schemes —
Does that absolve your guilty dreams?..

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

;Lenin and the Cause of Revolution

Comrade old ChLenin,
In mob foam venin’,
Go find the villains —
The crowd has millions.
Send in the Chekists:
Some off to jail lists,
Some to be shot —
The Cause must not rot.

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

;The Global Prison

We laugh at our own fate,
At others, just the same,
At doom we can't escape —
The "Others" play the game.

Like inmates, locked away,
Who mock their fellow slaves —
The world is steeped in grey,
Insane and digging graves.

A cage, a vast corral —
Call it what you prefer.
The soul's dismissed as pal,
Our deck's a losing blur.

The "Others" — not quite men —
Have ruled since time began.
They planted every "truth"
To rule the mindless clan.

Force isn’t quite enough —
They'd rather plant belief,
Make fools draw blood and bluff,
And cull the Souls in grief.

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

;Selfish Gain

“The noble mind knows what is right;
the petty mind — what brings advantage.”
— Confucius

A world where profit wears the crown,
Where “good” is smeared with selfish grease —
The soul grows faint, the mind shuts down,
And worse to come will never cease.

The Spirit's voice is drowned in noise,
The Reason shackled, caged, alone —
We sink in greed, in fear, in lies,
And nothing saves a heart of stone.

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

;The Living Dead

"Men waste their lives to chase the things
they think they need to live."
— Seneca, 1st century AD

Life slips by — we race and spin!
One wrong step, and you fall in.
You won’t notice when, one day,
Death walks in and wants to stay.

Dead men walking, all around —
Worship wealth, their hollow crown.
Just a few still stand, defying —
Till the mob becomes their dying.

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

;Monkey Training

Doubt is weakness — that’s the rule.
“Best of worlds!” — they teach in school.
Family’s harsh verdicts bite:
Step off course — you’ll lose the fight.

Obey the system, you’ll be fed;
Forget the soul, you're meat instead.
“Don’t mind the cost, don’t ask what’s true —
Now go catch flies for mommy too!”

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

;Mutual Aid

"Help is the hindrance of evil — real or potential."
— Plato

O Mutual Aid, where did you flee,
On any worthy scale?
Deceit and Madness drown the free,
While envy tips the scale.

For money, talent, empty fame —
We’re crushed beneath their boots.
To fiends who play a devil’s game,
We’re sticks for brutal hoots.

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

Pasta, Lies — or Just a Snack?

Is it noodles? Is it lies?
Truthless fiends wear clever guise.
Some lies dangle, light and sweet,
Others rot you from beneath.

Leper world — the plague is speech.
Kill the lie — you're out of reach.

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

Mass Murder & the Ass of Communism

Trotsky rants and spits with flair —
Sailor, soldier, mad with glare.
“Hold on, daughters! Sons, beware —
Bourgeois blood is in the air!”

“We'll drown the world in crimson streams,
To build an Ass of broken dreams.”

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

Sleep Deprivation

Lack of sleep hits hard and true,
On health and work, it wrecks you too.
In poets' "Labor Laws" they say,
A penalty for work that’s gray:

“Get your rest, and write with grace,
Don’t stress the rhyme or lose your place,
Though verse may seem a heavy task,
Just dream and write — no need to ask.”

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

;Propagandists, or Hell’s Firemen

Add more fire to Hell’s flames,
Spread the lies and shift the blame.
Write on banners, bold and bright,
“Folly” or “Mirage” — all right.

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

;Khrushchev

Corn-fed fool,
Spins his lies like a tool.
The fools buy his tale —
In his fog, they will fail.

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

;Cheaper Clothes and Devices

Clothes are cheap, and man’s more crude,
The cost of honor — no prelude.
More dear the heart, the anxious mind,
As the world’s last days unwind.

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

;Brezhnev

Old man, lost in his haze,
Speaks in endless, sluggish phrase.
Only praise, no real thought,
Just applause that he’s been taught.

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

;Gorbachev

Spotted fool, a liar bold,
A spawn of Judas, truth be told.
He “restructured” — what a joke,
But built nothing but smoke.

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

;Andropov

A student goes to see the show — "Beat him!"
A new whip cracks, the cattle grow grim.
Discipline in the cage is tight,
And fools believe it’s all right.

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

;Chernenko

The crippled fool returns to throne,
This “party” rules with force alone.
Crushing all with hollow might,
Or rather — nonsense, wild and trite.

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

;"Father of Nations"

“Moustached nanny,” stand in line,
Obey the rule, or face the sign.
Do as you're told, no room for doubt —
Or bear the cost, there’s no way out.

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

Short Verses

Short verses are not hard to write,
On narrow themes, in black and white.
You can churn them out with ease —
One simple rule: don’t spread decease.

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

To the Angel

You flap your wings, but is it true,
That light in Darkness brings a doom?
A genius, often called insane,
In this world, we know the pain.

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

The "fairy tale" is not so cruel —
It turns to myth right before your eyes,
When "consciousness" becomes a fool,
And rule is held by poisoned lies.

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

The Traveler

When you pause and start to think,
You’ll find despair begins to sink.
If in your fantasies you roam,
You’ll find yourself in madness' home.

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

The Path

Mire and Fear,
Our “all in all” —
The path is tough,
Through filth we crawl.

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

;Be Yourself

Be yourself, not part of the herd,
A feast amidst the world absurd.
The herd of global decay —
In the days of CowID, we fray.

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

The Solid Ground of Vulgarity

To the poet,
Death’s the prize,
Solace lies
In solid ground, though thin, inside.
Unshaken in the vulgar’s pride.

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

;Putin

Thief and bribed man,
The lazy “people”
Believe the fiends,
And open doors to evil's hand.

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

Lavrentiy Beria
Trust in him? A mere charade.
A backroom deal,
A ruthless blade.

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

Harsh? No — brutal are these schemes!

"Cause and effect — effect and cause,"
Fear feeds the fog, and that's the law.
The fool is trapped — he hit "pause"
And left his doubts for later thaw.

He trusted reason’s rigid preach,
Determinism’s hollow song,
Not seeing that INFERNAL speech
Had tricked his mind and steered him wrong.

But open up your Spirit’s sight —
A different world reveals its streams!
No brutal schemes survive that light;
The soul would wither in such dreams.

Harshness and cruelty are twin seeds —
Fascism in their scheming breeds!
Only sharp minds, with senses keen,
Can tread where finer truths are seen.

Such truths, intangible yet real,
Need silent introspection’s art —
Beyond the chains of cause and wheel,
Into the depths of spirit's heart.

The fools can never understand
That knowing grows through toil unseen,
That crowds are led, like sheep unmanned,
When finer visions are wiped clean.

No brutal scheme can cage that grace —
It’s wasted pain to force it in.
But REEKING frauds infest the place,
Where schemers lie — and souls grow thin.

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

;Law-Making

"Legislation should be the voice of reason, and the judge — the voice of law."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC

Reason’s caged — and "laws" exist
To guard the bars, not break the chain.
The judge? A slimy, bought-out twist,
Who spits on law for private gain.

Who then writes these wicked screeds?
Not "parliaments" — just hollow cries!
Their role? To mask the festering seeds
Of genocide, concealed in lies.

Behind the thrones, the vermin breed,
Invisible to blinded eyes.
CowID has shown their real creed —
Their schemes of Evil, thin disguise.

Each presi-puppet, each fake land,
Each "parliament" of rotting spawn,
Plays their dark games with bloodied hand,
While sheep believe the lies at dawn.

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

;Unified Rule by the Global "Elite"

"No people will survive if they see their own history through a neighbor’s eyes."
— Friedrich Nietzsche

Not a neighbor twists the tale —
The same vile filth still pulls the strings.
It trains the "elites" without fail,
Till every one of them now clings

To lies, to poison, to delay —
Their sentence merely pushed ahead.
The "virus" scam showed all the way:
One center spews the floods of dread.

The media storms, the schools are chained,
All ruled by ghouls behind the scenes.
More lawless cruelty is ordained
As Earth runs out its final dreams.

The Cataclysm will be the end,
The story sealed in fire and grief —
For tolerating fascist trends,
For crawling, like a wretched thief.

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

;The Fragmentation Method of Pseudoscience

"Makers of any science turn the impotence of their science into slander against nature."
— Francis Bacon, 17th century

When all is smashed into small bits,
No mighty force can rise or grow.
But endless "tests" they still submit
To "prove" the lies they want to show —

That piece by piece, the world’s laid bare
By fragments, dust, and broken lore.
The further they advance — less care,
More wholeness lost forevermore.

Now "scientists" are crowned as gods:
They churn out trash for daily needs.
And what destroys the Earth in clods?
The chewing crowd — it barely heeds.

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

;The New Populism (A Fantasy)

The Explorer of the Abyss
Went "to the people" once again.
He found the same foul, reeking mist —
Still slaves, still swallowing their pain.

They swap the names, but leave the core —
Call madness "freedom" now, and grime.
Still sheep believe, still ask for more,
Still dream of "happiness" through slime.

Where spirit dies, where minds decay,
Where man to beast is ground and sold —
Just look at CowID, wars today:
The same dark promises retold.

The people’s saga never ends —
It drills through rock, it drills through shame.
"Fight for the new!" — the slogan bends —
Headfirst, they batter through the same.

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

;The Way Out of Duality

In a world of idiots split in two:
"Serve the crowd — or serve yourself" —
All people seen as tools to use,
A road that drains and rots your health.

The mob demands not you — but masks,
Just "one of them," a hollow clone.
And since this world’s infernal tasks
Just spin you like a wheel — alone.

If fools are means, you turn a beast,
You claw and trample, cold and numb.
It’s hard to walk the path of least —
Yet Bedlam scars you not as much.

Such is the deal in this foul den:
No prospects bloom, no future gleams.
Collapse creeps closer once again —
The end is nearer than it seems.

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

The Tao of Mao

Lies and fear —
The daily game.
Burn the books —
Enjoy the flame.

A newborn god
Demands your soul,
All-seeing, strict,
And in control.

The crimson flag
Will light the skies,
The final word —
A sea of lies.

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

;Intuition

"Atheism is the vice of a few intelligent people; superstition is the vice of fools."
— Voltaire

The "golden middle"? Just a trap —
False science, priests — the same old game:
They turn us into mindless scrap,
Into the slaves of ruthless fate.

Nonsense without Spirit, dogmas of gloom —
Satanic lies beneath their shell.
Try breaking free, dispel the doom,
Erase mirages they have spelled.

Only Intuition leads you through,
Beyond "believe!" or "prove it first!"
It is the path — the one that's true —
From bottom’s darkness into Light’s birth.

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

;The Myth of Freedom

"How can those who never knew freedom recognize it?
They might just suspect another mask of a tyrant."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec

Freedom lives in propaganda,
In schooling wretched, dull, and fake —
Where puppets serve the creeping cancer,
And chain the minds for power’s sake.

The jesters’ breed now floods the lands,
Their rotten lies too vast to count.
The beasts have long since learned to plant
Their poison deep — and watch it mount.

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

The Global Camp and Nature’s Final Patience

CowID —> war —> "AI" —> the Camp.
And famine gnaws the broken lands.
The red cross fades on flags once stamped —
It’s capitulation of all plans.

The "states" — mere pseudo-systems fall,
The Global Camp their final creed.
Long-suffered tyranny devours all,
With hidden genocide its seed.

Yet Cataclysm will sweep the stage,
And wipe out monsters in their lust —
Their dull fascistic, mindless rage
Will fall; death births rebirth from dust.

For few — the rare, the souls that kept
Their Honor bright, their Spirit whole,
Who would not kneel, who never crept,
Nor traded Reason for control.

The fools’ arrogance swarms and reigns,
Multiplied by Lies and Blight —
They'll march to prisons, chained and drained,
And cheer their masters in delight.

But Nature’s Patience is not theirs —
It’s different from the slaves' worn cries.
Farewell, you slimy brood of liars!
Farewell, obedient fool — goodbye.

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

"We are the children of Russia’s dread..."
Now — just the children of no cause.
The "heroes" long have been struck dead...
But no one stops, no one takes pause.

They gulp down lies — and ask for more,
Devour the sludge without a thought.
Cash is their king, their highest law —
And souls? Cheap merchandise, soon bought.

If you're a thug in power’s game —
Good luck! You’re safe, you own the floor.
The rest are dust upon their shame,
While TVs preach their "pride" and roar —

Pride for decay, for rotting bones,
For hollow songs of plastic skies.
The zombified in brain and tone —
A few still guard their mind and eyes.

But there’s no pride in standing tall
When filth surrounds you, thick and grim...
And darker still — a warning call:
The End approaches on a whim.

Not long this shame will stain the skies —
The storm is knocking, raw and grim:
The World Fascism that spat on souls
Will no more mock the Seraphim.

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

Together in That Well-Known Place

The stunted minds, the traitor breed,
A plague upon the world they fall —
Have gathered here in full indeed,
Together, answering the call.

They’ll stuff our heads with lies once more —
We’ll swallow all without complaint.
"Obey!" — and we obey the Whore,
Our F;hrer — sacred, proud, and quaint.

Our F;hrer leads us to "stand tall,"
To "rise" — yet crawl in deeper shame.
The idiot will bear it all —
It’s every generation’s fate.

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

To Build an Impregnable Fortress of Thought

To build an impregnable fortress of thought,
Reinforce it with Spirit, let Experience bind;
Fill the moat with hard labor, burn every bridge wrought,
And vanish within, catching Inspiration’s flight.

Such is the task that before the poet stands,
A mission granted to only a few.
Thus so much remains unsung by their hands,
For beyond that fortress, Hell’s ninth pit breaks through.

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

Nonsense, Slander, Sheer Insanity

Nonsense, slander, sheer insanity —
Even sarcasm's lost its vanity.
Strength runs dry — to name it all,
You'd dig yourself a grave and fall.

The BEASTS now nurture helplessness,
Breeding rot in their finesse.
Twist and turn, at least break free —
Awaken from the LIE you see.

Lies flood the world — each little mind
A sewage pit, by filth designed.
Most books are garbage, rotting heaps —
No food for Spirit, none for Deep.

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

;Mad Slaves

The ancient laws of slavery say:
Drill in the slave that he’s "free" today,
That there's no tyrant, no decree —
It’s all just fate, just destiny.

Thus, every cringing little fool
Becomes the standard, shaped in school.
Darkness loves such crooked art —
Twist the world's map from the start.

A mad slave, meek and mild, is fun.
A raging one — that's Terrors' son.
A slave who knows the cage is real,
Who fights — becomes a threat to steal.

So listen, darling, don't you squirm:
You're bathing not in shit — but "charm."

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

"Reality" — A Clash of Myths

"Reality" — just myths colliding,
The mob grows "strong" on borrowed dreams.
One chaos on another riding —
And war ignites in words or streams.

The BEASTS excel at setting fires,
With lies that seep through every seam,
And fools, inflamed by dark desires,
March on, enslaved by phantom schemes.

They rule the minds with iron hand,
Division blooms in every brain.
Resistance flickers, weak and bland —
And every cause goes down the drain.

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

"Reality" — Just Myths at War

"Reality" — just myths at war,
The mob roars loud with borrowed lore.
One frenzied swarm unleashed on another —
And wars ignite, first words, then slaughter.

The BEASTS — oh, masters of the game —
Unleash the lies, ignite the flame.
The fools, so eager to obey,
Are ruled like cattle every day.

Their minds — a battlefield of trash,
Where every thought ends in a clash.
Resistance? Soft, a useless sigh —
And every "cause" just curls up... to die.

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

Cyclops

I'm a Cyclops. One blind eye
Sees only what they choose to show.
Now LIES, the Lord we can't deny —
Have ordered us to die and go.

We'll march to war, inject the slime,
Obey the madness, cold and grim.
We fight for Evil’s grand design —
Satan himself now leads the hymn.

Perhaps it's better to be blind —
Tear out my eye, let it decay.
The MEDIA howls will rule our mind —
Two-eyed? We'll crush without delay.

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

Battlefield Wisdom

I lie with "wisdom" in my grave —
Fooled by the filth that demons rave.
They drive the mindless to the fight,
Each broken head their pure delight.

The spawn still lie about the cost,
And once again the herd is lost.
A "people"? No — a mindless horde,
Marching to slaughter at their lord.

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

Rough-Edged Style

The more the cursing, filth, and spite,
The bigger crowds will swarm the site.
Crude rants and broken, snarling speech
Are now the golden path to reach.

Yet style still leads — indulge its flaws,
They're minor sins compared to those:
The deadlier plague is faking grace
In this cheap world of bought-out fools.

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

;Harvest Time of Darkness

The world’s a brew of fear and lies,
Where terror blooms and reason dies.
You’re on the block, don't kid yourself,
If you march with that rotting shelf —

The "crowd" they flatter, sell, and buy.
Walk off alone, or rot and die.
If clothes define you at a glance,
The cage will close — no second chance.

Stay sharp, stay fierce — forsake the herd.
This world is madness, thought absurd,
Where scum ride slaves with grinning pride,
Yet choke in chains they can't untie.

The Harvest’s come — the dark, the knives.
No mercy now. No second lives.

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

Subject-Object Dementia

A mind CONDITIONED only falls,
Dragged downward by the Dark’s grim calls.
Where genocide and fascists grin,
And Spirit's crushed by lies within —
All hail to dead material schemes.
Awake! Break free from nightmare dreams!

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

;A Madhouse Stretched Across the Land

We'll build new "Wondertowns" again,
While forging shackles for each brain.
Endless "construction" blurs the view,
Led by a government askew —
Better than playing "Napoleon" grand
In a madhouse, weeping through the land.

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

;The Indivisibility of the Whole

"The Whole is seized by parts."
— Lucius Seneca, 1st century AD

The Whole is still the Whole —
Break it bit by bit,
(Mankind's favorite goal),
And the truth is missed.

Nature’s core is shattered
By the mob's blind hand,
With false "science" scattered —
A slave’s iron brand.

A cage, a dried-out sweet —
Junk food, trinket piles.
Nature crushed beneath
The filth of human guile,

Of those anointed kings
Of falsehood's sacred reign.
Lie => "the people's" shrinks
To beasts — no lower plane.

CowID unmasked
The hidden overlord
Of false science — tasked
With shame beyond words.

Yet the fool still kneels,
Building Hell once more.
Only cataclysms’ steel
Will slam shut the door

On savagery we crown
As "mind" upon this Earth.
Now — we are the blight,
And soon — erased by worth.

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

;A Dead Man’s Journey

"Much is said about the qualities of good upbringing.
The first I would demand — and it contains many others —
is not to be a man who can be bought."
— Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Rousseau, from grave awakened, sighs,
And treads the world, his heart undone:
The bought-off fools infest the skies,
Obedience to evil — law for everyone.

The centuries have flown — grown worse.
"Progress!" they shout from every shore.
No need today for honest verse —
Just those who praise False Ashes evermore,

Or clog the mad world's dying veins
With cheap amusements, trash and lies.
A writer's work prints few remains —
Sold souls their only enterprise...

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

;To Be Human — That’s the Prize

To be a Man — a stroke of grace:
Beasts all around, the beasts inside.
Darkness still schemes its last disgrace —
To strip our soul, "with love" and "pride."

With "care" they’ll do it — filthy swine —
CowID laid the scheme out bare.
Today they batter us with lies,
Their "puppet squads" patrol the air —

Not soldiers now, but slyer tools,
Who guard the trough from clumsy hands.
Forget the guns! Today's old fools
Trade "treats" like powder — filth expands!

Legions of sellouts crowd the field;
Thus Earth is damned beyond repair.
The megatons of Lies revealed
Will crush us through another layer.

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

;Crucified by Nonsense

"Ignorance is a demonic force, and we fear it will cause many more tragedies."
— Karl Marx

Not just a force — a demon's scheme:
A tool to keep the world in chains.
Surround the fools — it makes it seem
The yoke must tighten on their brains.

They bent the herd till spines gave way,
In CowID's foul, corrupt ballet.
We wait for Cataclysms' day —
Let emptiness devour the beasts
That nail us to their nonsense-crucifix!

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

;Walking Templates

"If we confessed our sins to one another,
we would laugh at our lack of originality.
If we revealed our virtues,
we would laugh just the same."
— Khalil Gibran

One template bruised another’s face
And proudly crowed: "Behold! I’m new!"
But glimpse the "joy" in their disgrace —
The world is lost, and rightly too.

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

By Another Road...

The GULAG's flag — now UN’s disguise:
When CowID was rammed in place,
It stripped the world before our eyes —
To shame, decay, and dumb disgrace.

WHO? It always stank of dung —
Fascism just switched its path.
Where once small carts of lies were flung,
Now endless trains roll day and night in wrath.

And from the "sidetracks," just you wait,
They’ll dump much more of "something nice."
That "something" none can clear or sate —
Fascism wrecks the world — and thrives.

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

;The Contagion of Lies

"Only disease is contagious, not health;
the same with error and truth.
Thus error spreads fast, and truth crawls slowly."
— Pyotr Chaadayev

CowID unveiled how nonsense reigns,
How madness floods the world with ease.
Trust only instinct in your veins —
The air is thick with Dark’s disease.

The plandemic of lies poured wide —
The real infection, not a jest.
I see the rot — my heart inside
Clenches with pain within my chest.

Stay clear of crowds — the sick parade
Where error festers, chronic, deep.
Old Peter’s right — truth’s voice decays,
While tides of evil drown the weak.

Their single law: one foul decree —
Each p-resident bowed to the filth.
The drooling mob, in lunacy,
Surrendered what was left of will.

The "instinct to survive" was slain,
Now killing truth is praised as brave.
We've hit the Bottom — rot remains —
While mobs just howl: "More! We’re but slaves!"

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

Hell of Fascist Filth

The BEASTS who wrought CowID’s pain
Have now declared a war — again.
For scum, they posted price and fee:
Know the cost of infamy.

Kill your neighbor, take the bribe,
To "rise from knees," they'll preach and lie.
That war — a trap for crippled minds,
Where newer lies enslave the blind.

A trashy fear? — Just scream and swear,
Lie shamelessly and foul the air,
And soon the Stinking Dark will pose
As kindness — leading fools to close

Their eyes and march to Fascist Hell,
Where butchered souls are made to dwell.
The goal is simple: waste more slaves —
The rot alone can't dig their graves.

Tired of their endless filthy games,
The stench of lies still fuels the flames...

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

;Crap in Their Ears

"People only pretend they want a companion in talk.
In truth, they only want a listener."
— Abu Shlomo, 11th century

A true companion? Rarely sought.
A listener — that’s what's been bought:
To drown them in their babbled waste,
To flood them deep in filth and haste.

The mob spews nonsense night and day,
While reason flickers far away.
Mad raving arms the hand of spite —
The world’s been leveled into shite.

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

;The Ideals of Degradation

"Even when a people retreats,
it retreats behind an ideal —
and believes it's moving forward."
— Friedrich Nietzsche

The Dark keeps tossing new ideals —
Of rot, decay, and madness crowned.
CowID marked the peak revealed;
More lies ahead, more lies abound.

With filthy nonsense they will raise
A brand-new Camp — but digitized.
The herd will cheer — they love their chains —
Their rotted minds already died.

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

Pol Pot outshone the tyrants' crown,
But peace is premature, it’s clear:
CowID has shown the Evil’s frown.
Now, we await the Furious Deer...

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

;The people fall to silence deep —
Again, we’ll lie without a peep,
Creating Hell with madness torn,
And minds re-shaped by lies we’ve sworn...

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

"World of beauty" you will find
Once simplicity is left behind.
Through ease, the BEASTS will reign, no doubt:
No beauty left — just rot throughout!

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

Is morning wiser, evening too?
To flee from Bedlam through the night,
For farther still, its rage will brew.
Away, away — and take to flight!

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

Your skin has tainted all that’s pure,
When slaves are bowed and spreading hate.
In this small world, the wars endure,
With wealth, the "light" becomes our fate.

Desire for the flesh takes hold,
The "mind" of flesh leads all astray,
To slaughter creatures, weak and cold —
A mad, depraved and filthy fray.

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

Narrowed minds, obsessed with lies,
We've grown accustomed, no surprise.
With wicked falsehoods in our head,
In "consciousness" — mere Mirage instead.

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

"Angel" to the strong, they say,
"Devil" to the weak at bay.
Man grows foul, the world decays,
Darkness spreads with each new day.

Evil and deceit decree
A death sentence for you and me.
It’ll come soon, as sure as fate.
Until then, strike at those who wait!

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

;The Hidden Satanism of false Religions

"In the words "God" and "religion" I see darkness, darkness, chains and a whip."
Vissarion Belinsky.

Belinsky died, the Soviet reign
Installed the faith in "communism."
It faded out, yet once again,
Lies cloaked in religion's schism.

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

The soulless seeks the elite,
Money talks, dirt’s in the street.
Power’s for them, not for gain,
The middle’s bound to serve the chain.

In every land, the lowly rise —
A mix of beasts and human lies.
The protest’s voice grows faint and weak —
Power’s in the hands of fools and freaks.

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

;A tiresome fool,
Behind him, a knave,
And for that scum, a fool to save —
Rulers... the end is grave!

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

;To meet the blade — a gift, they say.
Today it's worse — FPV,
It nearly killed the courage's sway,
In search of love from those we knew.

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

;Once in the Sewer, you cannot stay
True to the Heart, no longer sway.
Madness grows, as lies expand —
The Devil’s Seal marks all the land.

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

To cleanse the Heart from soot and grime,
And move once more, beyond all time —
From "man in a box" to one who sees,
A soul that learns and truly frees.

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

By "moral law",
The Dark lays traps,
But heed the Heart,
And Soul escapes its grasp.

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

;No limit to the Falsehood’s reign,
Where chaos rises, breaks the chain.
When fools believe, with hearts "so bold",
That "leaders" wise and strong unfold.

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

;Innocent deaths have grown less rare,
The balance shifts to deep despair.
The wise grow few, the gap expands —
The world now rots with vacant hands.

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

I can.
They cannot:
Serve the whip
Until the final spot.

Their fate —
Or rather, their doom —
The "path" of slaves,
Their backs in gloom.

The few —
Cannot unite
In endless queues.
Hell’s not a sight.

Hell surrounds —
All is lost, it’s clear,
A vicious round —
Where lies appear.

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

;"In the depths of Siberian ores"

"The mind is a god for everyone."
Heraclitus

The mind was God. But Satan,
Became the lord of lower spheres,
And crept inside the Mind, to flatten—
We, beasts, now doomed to jagged piers.

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

;The Foam of Evil on the Surface of the Cloaca of the Wretched World

Reevaluation of power’s common,
But it turns critical, you see,
When Evil’s strength is underestimated—
Its foam alone, the only debris.

Beneath, the monsters wage their fight.
Before them, humans fade to naught,
Forgetting God's Spark, lost to the night.
And in the end, to Hell we’ve all been brought...

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

Propaganda

There’s never glitch in the war’s great roar—
Propaganda's pure, vile fright!
Listening, the citizen's poor,
Becomes a beast in the propaganda's blight.

With brains long rotted, no more discerning,
They take it all, believe the lie.
The more the fear, the more they’re burning,
The more the fools stand side by side.

To war, to “healing,” they can be led,
Propaganda’s grip, it’s all the same.
Decay and lies, on which they’re fed—
To lie, to lie, again, the game!

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

The Bottom

Slave souls,
Beasts in lawless sway,
All their “thoughts” in hollow holes,
The honest cast away.

Few are wise, few are true—
Fewer with each day.
Propaganda's sting will brew,
And we’ll all fade away.

Sleep? No, it’s lethargy!
All is doomed, we see.
"We’re not so bad!" they plea—
Thus speaks the BOTTOM, eternally.

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

Chasing Games on Asphalt

I step out on the asphalt,
In summer boots, skis strapped tight.
Maybe the skis don’t glide at all,
Or maybe I’m just out of sight.

The TV's spell—a darker dream—
Worse than any painting, grim.
No need for vice, no sin to scheme—
Lies are plenty for the dim.

I showed my new skis, poles in hand,
The fools all bought it, sure enough.
Once again, they took the stand—
And in the chase, they’ve had enough.

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

Dreams and Hopes

Silly hopes, those puzzling pieces,
You gather in your mind each day,
While fascism and false diseases
Buy the foolish, led astray.

Dreams, those pitiful desires,
Always drag the mind below.
Dreams amidst the festering fires—
They break through—guess they didn’t know?

The pus has flooded, all’s decayed,
More sores with every passing day.
Fascism grows more dull and frayed—
It must burn in Sacred Flame, I say.

Holiness isn’t in those scrolls,
But Nature—where the Sun’s the Fire,
To crush the fools, and make them whole,
As it burns the world in fascist mire.

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

A Half-Tone Higher!

Higher, not lower!
If you stay quieter—
Forget about the hernia,
It’s bound to be the pariah.

You must break yourself,
Get sick or fall to drink,
So you won’t waste away—
Let their faces start to stink.

Ugly mugs and masks—
Multiply with fiery rhyme.
No reason left to ask,
"To measure fools in time."

How the crowd will rate it,
How the crowd will judge,
With price tags on their hatred—
The Judas leash, a grudge.

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

City

Slashed wide—
A knife in the "belly" bides:
It’s fascism that shakes inside.

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

The Blind Spot in Consciousness

The blind spot, this "unique I,"
Holds us, as the crowd directs,
Through such spots, like trash, we fly—
Through them, it all just disconnects.

And through this spot, the spell takes hold,
Its power grows with passing years.
Soon we'll all be fed the mold,
As we become the fools, in tears.

No joke—literally. In the madhouse, it’s true,
They’re testing just how far it goes,
For Conscience, Spirit, Reason, too—
In the Asylum, none of those.

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

Small Business Crushed

The petty thugs crush business dreams—
Will bandits take their toll?
But the thug is just a small-time scheme—
Choking all with fascist soul.

With CowID, they’ve wiped out so
Many businesses, now dead.
The vermin roam, while maggots show
Their rot as they spread the dread.

"Food" is insects, soon you'll see—
You’ll have to eat their waste.
The world turns into a sarcoma,
So we must burn it with haste.

The Sun has started on its task—
Growing stronger every day,
It burns the world of fools who ask,
With its Sacred Flame to slay.

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

Lies and fears, anxieties—
This is how chaos is made.
All is artificial. Heroism—
Seeing it as the Rotten Charade.

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

Mark your forehead with green—draw a cross,
A sign that "I’m the target," you decree.
In consciousness, they strike. They'll kill! Yet, arise,
If you’re stitched with the critical truth of the Lie, you see.

With intuition as a tool to heal your wounds,
You use introspection, though it’s scorned—
A terrible thing, if ignored.

The whole world’s within. They cannot defeat,
If illuminated by Pure Light’s heat,
For this is a Fragment of God,
And to harm God, devils cannot be sought.

It’s simple, yet that's the point—
The world has become a Sporting Reserve,
With tickets to hunt and control,
Held by the inhuman, as we observe.

And fools graze, thinking that their gain
Is nourishment, not the bait they take,
Thrown by Evil as they remain,
Deceived by the hooks they mistake.

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

The few are right.
No "bravo!" will they hear—
They’ll be crushed as one:
A true Hell, I fear!

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

Through the inertia of the crowd,
A Great Talent claws its way.
In the surroundings, “seriousness”—
Every fool there’s a “giant” at play.

They'll call him madman—
He’s always beyond shallow schemes.
To the lonely freethinkers,
Only problem-solving redeems.

No support to be found,
For them: the world’s a chimera,
A New Madness on the ground,
Their path filled with delusion and terror.

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

We followed in our fathers' steps,
And once again got stuck in filth.
But now it’s worse: to hell with bullets—
Deceit cuts deeper! Fools believe still

In “rising from their knees,” in “illness,”
As the idiot box proclaimed.
One thing is sure—more useful to Wicked
Is today’s fool, utterly shamed:

When Darkness commands, they’ll build a Camp—
A state-of-the-art, digital one.
The one who stood beneath the red flag
Will become a tale, though mildly spun,

Though fathers tried with boundless effort,
In the five-year plans of old,
Their foolish sons, the pioneers,
Rejoiced at every victory bold.

But the plan had flaws from the start—
It failed to grasp the whole wide world.
Now the plague has brought it together—
WHO's the idol, their flag unfurled.

They’ve united three-quarters of the Earth,
So once again, the Camp will rise.
Though fewer stubborn ones are left,
In numbers, Evil still commands its ties…

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