Èãîðü Âûõîâàíåö, ñòèõè 9001-9500

Èãîðü Âûõîâàíåö, ñòèõè: 9001-9500



"The Highest Quality"

The quality of assholery
Has reached the highest peak.
The quirks that once were savories
Are gone, as souls grow weak.

Boring freaks in "perfect" lands,
Tighter now, they’re bound.
Easier—those out-of-hand,
They walk the lighter ground.

Go seek the quirks, the oddities—
There you’ll find the light.
Assholes in their lies and greed,
That’s where the source of blight.



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"Ding-Dong"

Ding-dong, ding-dong, I’m the fool who talks,
Here to convert you to "faith" today.
You’re a slave—one law in those walks,
To crush with orders, led astray.

Just fools to smite. To comfort, lie,
With rotten heresy to heal.
And herd them off to die.
If you "believe," your mind's unreal.

You must not "believe," you must KNOW.
Self-reflection brings the light,
That’s what will help you truly grow—
For beasts will lie in faith’s dark night.

Their lies will swell, their numbers grow,
In doctrines that enslave the mind.
Here, all religions serve the foe,
And evil chains all souls confined.

In childhood’s grip, they lock you tight.
The fool seeks others just to bind.
Ding-dong, ding-dong—The evil’s flight:
Don’t open doors to what you find!





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A Poem for Aging Children, or Overton's Windows

Mama washed the frame—
The frame by the window,
Of Overton's name.
A drama in the shadow.

Overton’s windows—
It’s all that we see!
Above the law’s lows—
Devour the filth, you’ll be free!

Soon cannibalism
Through windows will spread.
The windows, the prism,
By which the FOE’s led.



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Fools, Beasts, Lies

Fools, beasts, and lies—
Hell’s infernal glow.
Forgetfulness, it rise,
And Evil’s attacks grow bold.
All around, it’s ROT AND WOE!



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The Family Cell

A petty world — their rows, their "peace,"
Obsessed with every small caprice.
This satyr-swarm just drains away
Their strength in quarrels day by day,

In petty fuss, in endless chatter —
No room for battles that would matter:
Like spotting foes from friends — no use —
They’re trapped in cheap and vulgar views.

A cell? A cage! And in this pit,
The spiders squabble, snarl, and spit.
And what of children born inside?
Will they escape it? Will they hide

From petty griefs, from mental chains —
And taste the world beyond their pains?
But no — their childhood, sharp as thorn,
Will fester, rot, and leave them torn.

This tiny world of family ties
Will be the fool’s last, proud disguise.
No freedom in this world shall rise —
The family's a slave’s device.





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



Sobered by Soul’s Pain

If soul’s sharp pain has made you see,
You still can find a path, be free —
If Mind stands strong against the blight,
The rot, the madness, and the night.

No pain? Then corpse you are, my friend —
Join zombies on their mindless end.
So many flocks of brainless sheep,
Though drooling idiots run deep.

That dreary path — it leads ahead
Into a worldwide camp for dead.
Already now the madhouse moans,
Yet idiots march like faithful drones,

Still tame today, they trudge along,
Led by the media’s cursed song.
They do not know they'll be erased,
They're meat already — souls displaced.

They bow to beasts — that’s clear to see:
CowID showed it openly.
In this madhouse the minds are crushed —
In nearly all — that is the hush.



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



The Swamp of Stupidity

The swamp of folly — thick and vile,
The clutch of lies — a constant guile,
The stubborn, cold persistence of
Betrayal masked as law and love.

Their motto: "Serve the dark, obey!"
But that dark’s painted bright and gay.
To be yourself — insane, they say,
In this world turned the twisted way.

A madhouse — simple, straight, and grim,
Still in its early, evil spin,
Yet even now, beneath its crust,
It grows — a bloom of total Lust.





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



An Army of the People?

An army of the people? Lies.
It never lived, it never tries.
The beasts are in complete command —
And fools rush in to lend a hand.

The simpletons — so quick to trust,
Deceived by lies, by smoke, by dust.
They turn on neighbors, proud and loud —
For slaughterhouses, cheering crowds!



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



People’s Army? Don’t Make Me Laugh.

An army of the people? — Joke!
The filth’s in charge; the herd's provoked.
The crawling beasts give every cue —
And brainless cattle stomp right through.

The idiots — so proud, so dense —
Fall for the cheapest lies and scents.
They butcher neighbors without shame —
For slaughterhouses — in their name!



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



No People’s Army — Just a Herd,
Obeying beasts without a word.
They march to slaughter, loud and proud —
Their brains already in the ground.



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



The Broken Record

Goebbels — plebbels: same old song,
Played again — but now a farce gone wrong.
Lie and lie, and lie once more,
Lure the cattle with a bloody door,

Promise "Eden" through brute force,
While herding them to Hell, of course.
You shear the sheep, you roast their meat —
Just keep their minds in mad defeat.

Hold them raving through the years —
Their downfall echoes through the gears.
To screw it up — their only art;
The dream of change? A wishful fart.



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



Same lies, same farce, the cattle cheer,
To Hell they march, year after year.
Their dream of change is just a scream —
A rotting, broken, dying dream.



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



"Money in Sacks,
Bags Under Eyes"

Money in sacks,
Bags under eyes —
Drink, and you're wrecked,
Betrayed by lies.

Better to fight —
Victory’s sober!
Aim, hit, and strike —
No drunken cover.



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



Drink and you're doomed —
Fight and you rise.
Victory’s clear —
No booze, no lies!



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



Hunchbacked Freaks

The idiots stack their lies high —
A camel’s hump’s a lighter sight.
The media, with fervent cry,
Whip up fear, lead to the night.

Two humps — they’re lies and fears combined,
The final straw they coddle still,
To bring about the fall, designed,
In filthy, wicked, hateful skill.

The spine will crack, the path grows clear,
A slaughterhouse, it’s drawing near.
Yet in this world of twisted lies,
They’ll call it health, with blinded eyes.



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



Lies and fear, they make their hump,
Their final blow, a bitter lump.
The path leads down to slaughter’s gate —
But they’ll call it "health" — a twisted fate.



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



Twisted and Fallen

Twisted, sunk down deep below,
They babble of a place they know —
A paradise, they claim, they see,
In a world where Evil’s free.

Good is Evil, so they say,
Insanity rules every day.
With lies, they push the fools around,
Sick of it all, they drown in sound.



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



Twisted lies, they call it "Good,"
Insanity in every word.
Sick of the lies, the twisted schemes —
They live in nightmares, shattered dreams.



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



All the Fools Grind Their Power

All the fools grind down their might,
Too much of this foul, crawling blight.
And you live, half-hearted, weak,
Caught in a tightening noose, unique.

They surround, they break you down —
Like a strangling world, it drowns.
Generations fail and flop —
As long as there’s "free cheese" on top.





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



Fools grind down their every might,
Strangled by the endless fight.
Generations lost in vain,
Chasing cheese, they’re bound in chains.



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



Mad Slaves

"White and fluffy" —
Here, a mad slave.
In this foggy world,
The mind’s a fading wave:

Black’s called white, and white is gone,
The body thick, but mind’s withdrawn.
Though flesh is full, the brain’s a mess —
Just twisted lies in pure distress.



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



"White’s called black," they twist and break,
The mind’s a fool, the body fake.
In madness lost, they serve the lie —
With empty hearts, they live and die.



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



Disgust

Disgusted. The shame can't be washed away,
And slavery deepens with each passing day.
Desires in FILTH? Only Diogenes
Won’t rot into vulgar, pathetic disease.

Love? Friendship? In SLAVERY? Hollow and dead.
A mad little serf has no heart, only dread.
What's honored? Just nothing — a mindless decay:
Get drunk, get dumb, feed your gut — fade away.

No life here — just rot, in a shameful disguise:
All "growth" is a fraud, a procession of lies.
Here Spirit is slaughtered, and Reason is banned —
Just lunatic screeching across this dead land.

And only a few bear the Light, bear the Truth —
But vanish in nightmares of treachery's tooth,
Of fake manufactured catastrophes' art,
Their cross left behind… for a fool with no heart.



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



Rotland

This isn't life — it's rotting shame,
Where spirit's crushed and mind's to blame.
You kneel, you drool, you feed — then die.
While truth is nailed and left to lie.



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



The Judas School

Trust is now change in a traitor’s hand —
They’ll bleed you dry, and they’ll call it fair play.
What’s left of your heart? Just pulp or sand,
When ruin comes swift — the betrayal way.

They’ll rat you out, sell you cheap for a thrill —
While trust keeps dreaming of wonders and grace.
Here “friends” are Judases, grinning with skill,
And “wise old advisors” — the snitch in your face.

"High feelings"? A trap. You’ll be played and abused.
It’s all cold math — the rest is a lie.
And soon, even decent ones turn and get used —
For pennies, they sell you and wave you goodbye.

The world is a Judas school — plain to behold.
A fake little virus made clear who obeys:
The freaks in white coats, the regimes bought and sold —
Unleashed their fascism in orchestrated waves.

Now Judas High marches toward the camps —
This trust, this belief — a fatal disease.
Trust is a sin: on their banner of tramps,
A red cross is stabbed through the heart with ease.



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



Judas Class

They preach with a smile, then stab from behind —
Trust is the noose for the spiritually blind.
The cross on their flag? Not of mercy or grace —
It’s driven through hearts with a butcher’s embrace.



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



The Futility of a Poet

A poet's despair — a cry in the sand,
Unheard in the void of a lifeless land.
A life full of strain, of torment and pain,

Poets are skinless — they’re born that way,
And skinless, experience won’t come or stay.
But with no experience, what can you give?
Your soul stays silent — too raw to outlive.

To write is to walk the long road alone,
Or scatter your sparks till your fire is gone.
The dangers are many — you may go blind,
Write nonsense and think it’s the work of the mind.

No fame will come if your verse has fire —
This soulless world doesn’t care or admire.
Your poems may serve just to blow off some steam,
But steam chokes the soul, kills the passionate dream.

Useless, and fruitless, and hopeless, and grim —
This path has no joy, just sorrow and whim.
But if you write true to your soul’s wild storm,
You’ll find, midst the horror, one refuge — still warm.



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



Skinless

A poet is skinless — he bleeds when he speaks.
The world wants silence. And silence it seeks.



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



The Punishing Sword and the Red Banner

The punishing sword, without red flags to wave,
No chants of young zealots, no slogans to save,
No fiery madness, no cult to ignite —
Alone, it’s a blade with no reason to fight.

Brute force alone won’t make devils the kings —
But wash out the brains of the dull and the weak,
And soon they'll be wielding their own brutal things,
Whipping themselves while they slobber and shriek.

They’ll beat the dissenters, the doubters, the sane,
Who flinch at the nightmare and echo no cheer.
Fascism's power is not in the pain —
It thrives when the coward becomes volunteer.

Then crawling and snitching become the new norm,
And bootlickers bask while the others are crushed.
So better become a “Pioneer” in form —
The helpful little creep will leave you untouched.

The sword has sunk deep in the people’s mind —
It maims every thought, kills the soul from within.
The goal of the darkness is always aligned:
To torture the spirit — by poisoning reason.





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Obedience

They don’t need chains — just rot your brain,
And you’ll swing the whip, then beg for pain.



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



Of Greed and Betrayal

Writer D.H. Lawrence once cried:
“Shut all the schools — let ignorance reign,
Or lies and deceit will soon override,
And man will turn beast, bred cunning and vain.”

Today, it’s the doctor — a fraud in a coat,
A butcher of souls in a clinic of fear.
The world is a camp, where the dumb gladly vote
To follow the whip with a patriot's cheer.

"Knowledge" now reeks of deception and noise,
Truth has been banished — no facts, no defense.
Just loud DECLARATIONS, a choir of toys,
And traitors who sell us for trifling pence.

They hoard from the future — these bastards in silk.
Their grandchildren inherit despair.
Blood-soaked coins, Judas-bought milk —
And the end for them too... will be there.

Such is the schooling they proudly provide —
A factory breeding the coward, the snake.
To Spirit — it's torment. To Thought — it's a tide
Of shame for the Real, of Reason’s heartbreak.



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



Blood Coins

They steal from the children, they trade in the dead —
With lies in their books and a whip at your head.
"Education" breeds Judas and trains him to preach.
What soul could survive what these traitors teach?



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



Decadence in Hell

A poet’s true work is to strip every nerve,
Then strum them like strings, with no shame, no reserve.
You’ll rot into silence — unless you're the "first"?
Then you’re just a sellout, degenerate, cursed.

Ignore all the critics, the forms, and the rules —
Write what your nerves scream, not what pleases fools.
If nerves have decayed, if they've snapped or gone slack —
Then die where you lie. Don’t bother come back.

You’re always below — just a few ever burn
With fire so fierce that their minds do not turn.
They vanish like phoenixes, blazing then gone —
Replaced by the stupid who stumble along.

Now global fascism won’t flinch at your kiss —
No “sweet little poems” will soften this abyss.
So blast through the filth with the full force of flame —
Let cowards in Hell choke on truth and on shame.

When nerves are still tight, then the Heights can be heard —
Their resonance comes like a soul-shaking word.
Not all here have rotted or drowned in pretense —
Some fight with raw verse against dead decadence.





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Hellfire Verse

Your nerves are your weapon — don’t dare let them die.
The Heights only speak when you burn, not comply.
This world is a grave, and its poets are few —
So scream with your blood, or the rot becomes you.



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Sheep, Jackals, and Wolves

There were wolves — ask Hesse or Vysotsky’s song.
Now traitors in jackal-skin scurry along.
No heroes today — too “noble” a word;
Look up for a second — you’re gone, unheard.

In the jackal-world, there’s a different law:
Sniff for the rot, keep your snout in the straw.
Honor? A coupon. Just shred it for gain —
That’s the jackal’s life: all teeth, no brain.

It pays to be filthy — no one will chase
The jackal who kills with a cleaner’s face.
He hunts like a clerk, all quiet and neat —
Another day’s slaughter, another spreadsheet.

Now all the sheep are herded to kill zones.
Why waste the thrill? Mass death sets the tone.
The sheep stay calm — “It’s treatment,” they bleat,
While jackals howl law through the zombified beat.

Their wild new order shrieks from the screen —
Agree, or you’re mutton, minced and clean.
Doubt is forbidden in pens that stink —
A sheep with questions is meat in a blink.



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Jackal Order

The jackals write laws with a blood-slick pen —
And sheep call it "care" as they’re herded again.
Look up? You're devoured. Ask nothing, stay small.
This isn’t a farm — it’s a slaughterhouse stall.



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Grayness

Weakness and dullness,
Greed and deceit,
Laziness, fear, worthlessness,
With sadism’s soft beat.

False “human kindness,”
The fake, polished “care,”
Empathy's stinginess,
Folly everywhere.

Foolishness reigns,
Intellect is strange,
Primitiveness spreads —
Evil in every range.

Endlessness of malice,
Unyielding decay,
Only filth survives,
No dignity in the fray.

Only bastards matter,
Idiots swagger with pride,
Lies build up like towers,
Genocide is wide.

In prison they settle,
The norm is to bow,
Slaves to their poison,
The rot fills them now.

Boldness is nothing,
Only beasts and their lies,
Subtlety vanishes,
Truth buried in disguise.

What remains is the stench,
What ends is the mind —
The filth will be scorched,
But never the blind.



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The Gray Curse

They live in the filth, in the lies that they weave,
Only fools rise, and the honest deceive.
The weak stand unbroken, their venom is clear —
But truth will be scorched, and they’ll disappear.



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The Pendulum's Law

Are you tired, weighed down?
What nonsense! Strength will come,
Once you learn the law —
The “pendulum.” With it,
Your potential will grow,
When you build YOUR world,
Where creativity is the law,
And everything else is smoke —
You can't build a home on that.

You were oppressed by the world,
But didn’t become a fool.
You understood — run from the trap,
For in Bedlam, fools will shackle you,
Imposing the laws of Darkness,
In that stench, you’ll suffocate.

Only creative forces
Will rise again, sweetly.
Let what is of the Spirit,
And sanctified by the mind, be cherished.
Let it be small, the rest —
A heap of miserable waste.

Reject the lies and rumors,
Create, fight, laugh,
While on that filth, flies
Dance upon the manure.

But this dance is Vita’s:
Soul and mind are crushed,
And Light is almost gone.
Only creativity is Light,
In this world of evil, condemned.
The only advice —
CREATE! That is the answer to Evil…





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Pendulum’s Call

When you're tired, don’t be fooled —
The pendulum swings, your power renewed.
In the world of lies, create your own light,
That’s how you fight Darkness, with all your might.



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The Doppelg;nger Puylo and the Kremlin

They blew up houses in Volgodonsk, Buynaksk—
That filthy Puylo, bringing power to the beast.
It spread like ink, a blot in the dark—
A doppelg;nger leading the sheep on their feast.

He drives them to slaughter with his lying tales—
Worse than Hitler, the harm he has done.
The Kremlin, the filth, at fascism’s rails,
Follows orders from the world’s evil sun.

He rules as a tyrant, a brutal dictator—
Gives out decrees, and the Kremlin, they strain,
While the liar-provocateur broadcasts, later,
Spitting poison, turning truth to disdain.

Cunning lies eat away at the mind and soul—
The sheep grow duller with every breath.
And the zombobox, cold and remote,
Is either a clinic or propaganda of death.

The forecasts are grim, the bottom has cracked—
Only collapse and decay lie ahead.
If they endure this Kremlin filth intact—
Then Satan himself will be pleased with the spread.



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The Kremlin’s Rot

Bombs explode, the lies run deep,
The Kremlin leads the sheep to sleep.
The forecast is ruin, decay, and dread —
Satan smiles, as truth lies dead.



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



The Menagerie

A swindler, spouting “truths” he never means —
A politician, bureaucrat, judge, or prosecutor.
The clutches of scum tighten like a vice,
In a world of disgrace, a universal ruin.

Two-thirds of all "seats" are filled by shameful beasts,
Walking filth, fascist trash, traitors in disguise.
And the "sweet" songs they sing are fewer now,
Turning bitter like acid, truth's demise.

The global lie has spread, and all the creatures
Serve the common master, everywhere.
Fake countries in their drunken stupor,
Tied by lies that hold the fools in despair.

They chain the masses tighter than before,
And the chief vassal is the propagandist's hand.
Two-thirds of the people, dumbed down and torn,
Have lost their minds; the damage is grand.

Scum, traitors, and the vile have ravaged it all,
The world has become a MENAGERIE — a sad, grim end.
Spiritual bonds between men now fall,
Satanism is the new faith — "God's dead."





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



The Beastly World

Scum rule the world, their lies take the throne,
Two-thirds of the fools are now lost and alone.
The world is a menagerie, where truth is dead,
Satan now reigns, and the faithful have fled.



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Blindness and Deafness

A bright plasmoid flashed high in the sky,
Gaze upon it — slowly it fades away.
If you’ve incarnated as a fool, you’ll deny,
“It’s all just stories,” you’ll say... thus blind and deaf.

To Pure Spirituality and the “subtle realm”…
A monster of blood and flesh — you’ve become, bound forever.
The Lyre’s a donkey’s burden, nothing to overwhelm,
And the vile creatures — as lords they now endeavor.

Memes are invented, or "funny jokes" —
Meant to mock such observations, to grind.
The pseudo-scientist, with endless tricks, provokes,
Spewing nonsense to kill all truths we find.

To knowledge concealed, all motives are dead —
Like a fool repeating “scientific” trash,
Lies intertwine, woven with lies in thread,
While the "school" is occupied by the darkness’ lash.

"Science" and "school" are now mere superstition —
It’s time to light the fires, the pyres rise.
Only Spirit and the Hidden will bring us equilibrium,
In Real Knowledge — it can’t be destroyed, no matter the lies!



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



Darkness and Lies

In science and school, dark fools remain,
Their lies are a mask, their wisdom is vain.
Only Spirit and Truth will restore balance —
Real Knowledge cannot be crushed by the fools' malice.





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



Betrayal

Betrayal has reached its utmost height,
Turning this world into pure absurdity.
You cannot be whole, a mind full of light,
In a world so corrupt, where Mammon is deity.

The traitors destroy their children’s minds,
Infecting them with poison so deep.
Then with shameless lies, they try to bind—
A father’s not a man, but a worm for the heap.

When everything is sold, meaning’s gone,
Only children left to trade and barter.
The circle tightens, no way to run,
The noose of betrayal is getting sharper.

They feed them garbage from an early age,
Like Mengele’s filth, a puppy at best.
Betrayal is inherited, passed on in rage,
It’s Groundhog Day — but with horns on the chest.

These traitors, their lands stripped bare,
Cities like jungles — chaos, despair.
But all those souls, the Universe will weigh,
And find them zero — then the vermin’s last day.



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



Betrayal's Grip

Betrayal has poisoned the world we hold,
Turning bright minds to dust, to be sold.
But in the end, the Universe will decide,
And the traitors will have nowhere to hide.





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



The Fire of Awareness

Let the Fire of Awareness engulf all Hell,
Forget all you knew — lies are spread far and wide.
At first, you won’t like it, as I can tell,
You’ll see only deformities, nothing to hide.

An inverted world, where the Spirit’s true spark
Is but a flicker, not the consuming Light.
Here in this Hell, the darkness leaves no mark—
For all are fed the madness, day and night.

This madness, this material void we call life,
Where you’re just a hamster, spinning in place.
A fog of forgetfulness, causing strife,
Guiding the world along the same disgrace.

It leads to the Concentration Camp of New Times,
Where fascism reigns, merciless and cold.
The "Red Cross" for fascism is their paradigm,
They’ll crucify all — then Hell’s grip will hold.

So center yourself in Spirit, take the road
Of discovery, where intuition is king.
Feel the Power within, let it explode—
For anything else leads to the abyss, to suffering.





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The Fire of Awareness, short version

Let Awareness' fire burn through all the lies,
See the world twisted through false, blinded eyes.
But center your Spirit, and you’ll find the way—
For only with truth can you rise from the fray.



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No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — but by lies, a weapon’s formed,
No limits here — it’s all to keep you misinformed.
Destruction, shame, genocide, decay,
The remnants of freedom, everywhere they slay.

No analogues! — a double-faced dictator,
The artificial pain, a blatant truth’s erasure.
A traitor official, and a cop-provoker,
Propagandists reign there — the analogues are no more.

Even Goebbels would serve coffee to their needs,
In this ultra-poor land, "values" they feed,
Like swine in their filth, soon they'll need no bread,
For they’ll feast on a super-fiend, instead.

They now call themselves demons —
The tribe of Judas, astral burps and lies.
Betrayers have become the new Wehrmacht legions,
And in this army, bastards multiply.

No analogues in human history —
Such a fall has never been.
Many have fallen, but this absurdity
Was never before something to be seen.





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No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — lies form the weapon of choice,
Destruction and shame, they’ve stolen our voice.
No past can compare to this monstrous decay —
This fall of mankind, there's no words to say.



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



Worldview

Worldview’s the foundation, the core of the mind,
How you perceive things, that’s what you will find.
In a mind that's imprisoned, all chains and all blocks,
Few are the thinkers, the rest are just ox.

When the psyche’s in line with the animal’s tread,
The yoke’s always ready, the herd’s being led.
Not a world, but a zoo, with the stench of decay,
For the "vegetable" type, it’s a suffering day.

Fake drugs, fake viruses, new wars in the making —
They herd the flocks like before, for the taking.
The herds, as a whole, deserve this fate they abide,
For the "truth" they all know is the TV’s loud tide.

Shift your focus — you’re a Spiritual Being,
Out of the herd, though the chances are fleeting.
It’s hard to escape — the flock’s clouds are thick,
The sheep march to slaughter, the Mist’s cruel grip.

The herds are but food, always that has been,
This slave world’s a cage — it’s time to burn it again.
How vile, how disgraceful, how corrupt the swine —
For the spiritual ones, the herds cannot align.



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Worldview, short version

Worldview is the key, how you see is your fate,
In a mind full of chains, there’s nothing to create.
When the herd’s all that’s left, the world’s just decay —
For the spiritual ones, the herds are in dismay.



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Eternity and Infinity

Give the slaves half a liter, a heap of lies,
That the F;hrer spits out every day in disguise,
Also some food, and eternal mirages —
Immortality for slaves! No need to analyze.

Here everything's different, that's why fascism thrives,
It rules through fear, to frighten the herds of lives,
Then push a new foolishness, dressed as salvation,
But beyond that — no more, no more hesitation!

The record's been played, but it’s ETERNAL still!
Madness grows stronger — now vinyl, it’s real.
And the whole little world has sunk to the floor,
Where the INFINITY of their stupidity soars.





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Eternity and Infinity, short version

Serve the slaves lies, and food for their pains,
Fascism's still reigning, through fear it remains.
The world’s fallen deep, where fools hold the reign,
And their stupidity's endless, in infinite chains.



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;The Solution to the World's Problems by Apocalypse

Tumbling through the void,
Just explore, don’t aim too high,
Let your soul, in simple joy,
Reach for ties with the Most High.

A satanic world, yet God
Is unspeakably far away.
Building in evil, flawed,
You multiply NOTHING in your way.

A Cataclysm will save us,
It comes from far afar,
It’ll destroy the fascism,
Though the burden’s heavy and bizarre.

To see the Evil and not change
A thing within this place,
The hammer will hit, sharp and strange,
And Death will solve it all, with grace.





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The Apocalypse Solves All

The world is twisted, far from light,
Fascism will fall in Cataclysm’s fight.
Evil seen, but change too slow,
Death’s the answer — that’s the final blow.



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Satan

The receiver, that filth, it has in its grasp,
And an army of vermin, who’ve betrayed it all.
No need for floggings, execution’s past,
For shame, fear, and whining no longer call.

When once all was done — on the conveyor,
Far more nourishing, souls to collect,
No need to gather — fools bring them to bear,
For universal treachery, lies in the air,
And beyond money, no one’s direct.

Only a few fight against the Evil,
They’re called fools, and their efforts ignored,
Unable to harm it, yet still so medieval,
The horned goat has made everything deplored.

But a twist of fate, a cataclysm near,
It will sweep this shameful Hell away.
The fools will vanish, along with their fear,
And those FEW will find salvation that day.



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Satan’s Fall

The filth holds the receiver, lies all around,
Few fight against Evil, their efforts unsound.
The fools will vanish, their reign soon to end,
Only the Few will salvation transcend.



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Harvest Time of Darkness

The world’s a brew of lies and fear,
And fear breeds deeper with each sneer.
You stand already on the block
If you march with that rotting flock,

The herd they flatter as "the crowd."
Best walk alone, away, unbowed:
If clothes define you at first glance,
The jailhouse marks your last advance.

Stay wise, stay honest — flee the pack,
The world’s a madman’s hunting track,
Where scoundrels ride on slaves below,
Yet slaves themselves — too blind to know.

Now is the Harvest Time of Night:
The mind in chains, the spirit slight.



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Pseudo-Science, or The Black Letter as Black Mark

The blackened letter — the blackened brand:
Each line is dripping with deceit.
Their rotting “science” stinks on hand —
It rides the fool in the backseat.

See global warming: humans "fume,"
While cows let loose without a care.
And clueless people just assume
Whatever CRAP the LIAR dares.

There’s proof galore — go take a look:
Their stitched-up lies are crude and loud.
Enough! We’ve read their crooked book —
We’re not their sheep. We bite. We’re proud.



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Search Instinct

The search for truth — that burning trait —
Is what makes humans truly live.
While fear and sloth and bowing fate
Are all the herd can ever give.

To swallow lies without a blink
Is cattle’s mark — a soulless mess.
When all is madness, stop and think:
To feel the truth is to progress.

Even rats inside a maze
Drop their food and flee the night.
Is it instinct? Is it craze?
Or madness sparked by lack of light?

Madness reigns — it chokes, it stinks.
Yet rats outmatch us, inch for inch:
They dare to doubt — while man just sinks,
Drowned in a sea of coward’s cringe.

Forget the herd, forget their script —
Their ready answers all are lies.
Seek your own — through ash and crypt —
Or be a rat... who never tries.



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The Ego Cycle and Paranoia

The ego’s loop, in fear entangled,
Distorts perception to the core —
The mind gets lost, confused, and mangled
By all the filth and inner war.

This loop of fear and false suspicion
Is perfect fuel for any scheme:
Scare them first — then with precision
You plant whatever in their dream.

To fools, all nonsense becomes law —
"Approved by experts," fed like meat.
The ego walks toward the flaw,
And scum just watch, enjoy, repeat.

The ones who rule this global ward —
They know the script. It’s not obscure.
The ego's cancer marches hard,
And every moron feels secure.

So now he swallows every sin,
Mistakes the poison for delight.
His soul's gone soft. He won’t begin
To bite — his mask fits just right.



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When Time Speeds Up

When days fly by and blur away,
Something’s wrong beneath the skin.
The surface smiles, but deep in gray —
Your soul’s in chaos, lost within.

When you burn bright — time stretches wide,
Each moment vast, intense, alive.
But if you’ve shrunk and lost your stride,
Then you’re too numb to even strive.

Time’s not "knowledge" — that’s a fake:
That “truth” is poisoned, full of lies.
They chain your mind until it breaks —
Those horned “lords” in priestly guise.

They’ve built this cage, this blur, this race,
Where time speeds up — a cursed delight.
The rats all hide in cozy space,
And wait for demons to feed them right.

The Spirit lives beyond all time,
But time’s a noose they’ve wrapped around —
By spawn of Hell who make this slime,
These worms who rot the holy ground.



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Weapons of Mass Deception

Lies and traps, and staged offense —
That's the main game in this place.
Shake the idiots, make them tense —
And they’ll swallow every case.

Two waves fill the poisoned air:
Fear and falsehood, broadcast loud.
All the rest’s just cheap despair,
While Hell reigns above the crowd.

Every system, every name
Rests on whores that sell their voice.
They lie, they hype, they fan the flame —
If we don’t shake, they cut our choice.

Blow a tower skyward, then
Blame it on some foreign trace.
Tweak the laws, deceive again —
Freedom wiped without a trace.

Too much horror to contain
In one poem, brief and tight.
If you trust these fiends — you’re insane.
You're a dumb, pathetic blight.



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Blank Page

A blank page waits — it pulls, it calls,
It begs for that first fateful line.
The first — a valve. Then silence falls,
And words begin to flow just fine.

If the poet’s spirit burns,
The lines will pour, both strong and right.
But if his gift no longer turns,
He’ll spill out rust — not words, but blight.

The page is pure. And if your soul
Is just as clear — it shows, it speaks.
No foolish noise can make it whole;
Only truth is what it seeks.

Let the Heart speak first — then Mind
Can shape the frame, refine the sound.
But if no voice inside you shines,
No use in waiting for it now.

For if the Mind commands the Heart,
The song is doomed before it’s born.
You can’t just bolt a door to art —
You’ll make a mess. A lie. A scorn.





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“Servant of God”? Then You’ve Been Had

"Servant of God"? Your mind’s been wrecked —
God needs no slaves. But demons do.
Those horned and filthy fiends collect
Obedient cattle — blind and true.

They roast their meat not in a pan,
But in delusions, bold and loud.
Each lie inflames the minds of man —
This is no world — it is a shroud.

We live in Hell. And breaking free
Is not a tale from sacred lore.
It is a challenge to the Me —
To Spirit, burning at the core.

No dumb book will show the path.
The chains of others bring no gain.
Think for yourself — or feel the wrath
Of borrowed wisdom turned to chain.

The Mind must serve the Spirit’s light,
Or else you lose the sacred thread.
This isn’t style. It’s not a rite —
It’s life or death. You feel it — dread.





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God needs no slaves. The Devil feeds
On minds that kneel and call them "creeds."
Your chains are lies. Your prayer’s a bribe.
Break free — or rot inside the tribe.



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You drown in lies. The rat breaks free.
Who's closer now to truth — or me?



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The herd obeys. The rat resists.
You serve the dark — it barely twists.



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No truth is handed. None is owed.
Seek — or rot on their dead-end road.



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If Heart is silent — stop the pen.
No Mind can fake what's true, and when
You try — you stain, you smear, you miss.
The Soul writes clean. Respect the bliss.



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Your fear-built ego blocks the light —
You praise the chain, you beg the blight.
You lick the boot and call it fate —
While truth stands armed outside your gate.



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Your "science" reeks.
We smell the fraud.
We’re not your sheep.
We bite. We’re God.



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Lies in your lab coat,
filth in your creed —
We burn your banners.
We’re done. We lead.



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A blackened mark for
a blackened mind —
Your truth is rot.
You’ve fooled the blind.



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If you trust the screen — you’re owned.
If you fear — you’ve been dethroned.
Lies and terror breed control —
You’re their target, not their goal.



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Time is a trap, a choking thread —
A gift from demons, masked as grace.
While truth stands still, the herd runs dead —
Their clocks devour the human race.



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Psychotyranny

Psychotherapy? No — Psychotyranny!
A tool to leash a dead and beaten mule.
The herd’s gone mad, and shrinks, with sick uncanny
Smiles, outdo butchers. Lies? Their basic rule.

Their twisted “theories” — Freud’s obscene inventions,
Other mental tortures — madhouse filth and flame.
The mule is dead — a zombie — no redemption.
But freaks rejoice: a dumbed-down slave’s their aim.

Dumb us down from childhood — school, indoctrination —
They kill the soul and crush the mind instead.
No true physicians here — just exploitation.
They skim the cream off every life gone dead.

These wounds are planned. They warp your mind with terror,
With filth and panic, till you’re sick and small.
Show a hint of mercy? Fired for that error.
They profit best when you can’t think at all.

They breed our madness, feed it through the ages —
“Help” exists on paper, nowhere real to see.
Their science lies. And while we rot in cages,
They gut our minds — their goal? CRUSH utterly!



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Psychotyranny

They broke our minds to keep us tamed and low,
Called it “care” — a lie dressed up for show.
The shrinks are wolves, the patients led to slaughter.
Truth drowns in pills and propaganda water.



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The Poetry of Self-Immolation

The poet’s cold fury burns brighter than steel —
No weapon on earth strikes deeper or truer.
Let madness around us devour and reel —
Our answer to Hell is: “We shall endure!”

It’s time to return to the Source, the beginning,
And burn this vile world in the fire of truth.
Forget all the fascists, the fog, the false winning —
The Source wipes it clean, renews us like youth.

The poet — a fakir, a dervish, a flame,
But silence and patience will not always stay.
Now rage rises up — no longer tame —
Self-burning is poetry’s final way.



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My verse is a blaze — not a prayer, but defiance,
A torch in the dark, not a tearful compliance.
This world must be burned, not mourned with regret —
Let poetry rise, a firebomb threat!



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Through the Looking-Glass

I’ll never see a world where Truth and Honor
Defeat betrayal’s rotting, creeping blight.
This age, like leprosy, corrodes and hollows —
It feeds on those who burn the brightest light.

Only one lie holds any real dominion:
“Super-money” — that’s the god they trust.
It rules this rotting realm with cold precision.
The Stepan Razins vanished into dust.

Among the fools and crawling human weakness,
We drag our days, then die, then start anew —
And each rebirth — more hopeless, dumb, and bleakness!
The fools have multiplied — their grip holds true.

To see this once again? A fate far crueler
Than simple death — annihilation's best!
What grows is fear, and chains grow ever cooler,
In this warped mirror-world of filth and jest.



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Mirrorverse Strike

This world is a mirror — cracked, diseased, obscene,
Where gold makes gods and truth dies offscreen.
No rebels left, just clowns in chains and smoke —
Let fire erase what mirrors never broke.



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The Inner Realms of Soul

No bonds, no flags, no chains of duty,
No faith in lies — that’s how to stay a man.
Obey, conform — they steal your beauty
And herd you straight into their slaughter-pen.

Obedient cattle in foul enclosures —
That’s what they call “the state,” “the law.”
The proud, the bright face swift erasures —
The mind and spirit meet their final draw.

So some escape into the silence,
That realm within, beyond their reach.
New fascist masks, the same old violence —
The Goat now rules, and morals bleach.

The world grows poor, dives toward disaster,
The fiends accelerate their track.
Only within can one stand faster,
While filth and ruin flood the black.





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Inner Strike

The world is rot — ruled by the Goat and chain.
They brand the soul, then flush it down the drain.
But deep within, where tyrants cannot tread,
The fire lives — unbroken, though half-dead.



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Doomed

Without the Power that births Creation,
Tradition’s “art” is mere stagnation.
In this grotesque world, true form can’t grow —
What’s called “creative” lacks the soul to flow.

No spark of Source? Then all is murk —
Reflections warped with lies that lurk.
And so this doom cannot be shaken:
All’s off the mark — when Soul’s forsaken.

But true Creation — that sacred Flame —
Lives far beyond the fascist game.
Yet most still toil in dead routines,
Half-blind with fear, devoured by machines.

The slaughter by fascism floods every land —
Not humans now, but clay in demon hands.
They mold obedient beasts from men,
Through lies repeated again and again.

But Forces of End, of righteous unmaking,
Will rise to halt this global faking.
Beast-born decay will meet its close —
For Nature revolts where filth overgrows.

And Death will come — not as damnation,
But clearing space…
for true Creation.



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End Before Creation

They burn the soul and call it “art divine,”
While beasts are bred by lies in every line.
But filth can’t last — the end ignites salvation:
Death clears the way… for real Creation.



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"Elections"

You’ll choose a doctor or a pilot
With far more care and scrutiny,
Than you’ll ever give the “president” —
Clean-shaven, smiling wide, deceitful, "free".

He speaks so smooth, what’s more to say?
For the people, he’s the man, they say!
But when he blabs of “freedom’s” call,
And “democracy,” it’s just a fall.

He offers recipes, so grand,
To fix it all — yet they all fail!
Year by year, the “people” buy the lie,
For the man’s a clown, a swine who prevails.

Invisible, the swine is the one
Who set the test, and he has won.
The people, as always, fall for the fun,
And in the lies, they’re gone, undone.



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The Clown’s Game

A clown in charge, the lies they sell,
While you pick doctors with care, oh well.
Democracy? Just smoke and mirrors —
A fool's parade, while truth disappears.



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Control of Soul Over Mind

An impossible task, no doubt —
Luck won’t help, nor endless shout,
Nor the madness, tears, and cries —
Only inspiration, soul’s full rise.
But here’s the rub — the strength is weak,
Always fading, failure peeks.
Without the intellect to bind
The Spirit’s force, what will you find?
A mess, a drag, and endless bore,
Only nonsense reaching your door,
If the swine that lead the flock
Sell their souls for soup and talk,
And craft their lies so slick and sleek,
No truth will pierce, their grasp is weak.

An impossible task, you see —
To tame the soul’s own mindless steed,
“Intellect” — a whore that’s bought,
These creatures know, and never fought.
In lies they drown, with every breath,
They smother those who challenge death,
And bend their minds to evil’s course —
Dogs envy their corrupting force.
They drown the talent, twist the truth —
A war, not brawl — a battle’s youth.
Lies kill, and truth is cut away,
Like CowID, that shows the way.
The fool, deceived by feeble faith,
Follows the beasts into their wraith,
Raising fools to mock the mind,
In total lies, the fools are blind.

The world is rotten — hell below,
The stench of media’s foulest glow.
They rot the soul, and steal the will,
And crush the brain, unthinking still.
But if your soul can master mind,
The beasts can’t touch, they’re left behind.
That’s how you save yourself from doom,
In a world of asses, filled with gloom.





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Soul vs. Mind

The soul must tame the mind’s blind bray,
Or beasts will lead you far astray.
Lies kill the truth, and fools will fall,
But spirit’s strength will conquer all.



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Leper Colony: "Problem-Reaction-Solution"

A leper colony in the sea,
The brain’s a trickle, ears full of dung.
Though not all is woe, it’s misery —
The sea of lies, the tears that’re flung.

Steamers bring their hollow lies,
A cargo of the baseless truth.
Misfortune grows, it never dies,
Their work’s just making pain, uncouth.

The twisted fools, their only aim:
To shove more problems in the frame.
Jokes forgotten, no more games —
No more dilemmas, just the same.

Stress. Oh hell! Prepare the plan —
How to hoodwink every man.
The leper colony, decay —
If you believe their lies, you’ll pay.



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The Leper’s Lie

They breed the lies, then sell the pain,
Make fools of men, then shift the blame.
The leper's game, a rotten scheme —
Believe the lies, you’re caught in steam.



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The Howl of the War Propagandists

As a war propagandist,
You’re shot down, since you were born,
A different foe: “upbringing” —
Preparing you for slaughter’s horn.

This war herder, a stitched-up freak,
A devil’s trick above the meek.
In every pen, the world’s a shoot,
All our pens have turned to loot.

CowID showed the tale,
Not much left, too faint to hail.
The herd is driven to the camp,
Slaughtered by the twisted stamp.

War propagandist now —
He’s power, law, and shows you how.
The fools can’t see, they’re blind to note,
As they munch, they drown in hope.

And under crunching, howling din,
Those mad of mind will meet their sin,
The fiends of hell will wipe them out,
And history’s done, there’s not a doubt.





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The Propaganda War

They feed you lies and call it law,
The herd is led, too blind to draw.
The fiends will feast, and minds will fall —
Propaganda’s grip, the final call.



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Learn Not to Break

Learn from the cats — wild, streetwise,
Full of lazy grace and surprise.
Do they have fleas, or endless sin?
The lies of “warriors” are built within.

Just like sarcoma, deep and raw,
Who here is wise? No man, no law.
Satan’s their guide, they kneel to him;
To the beasts, slavery’s grim.

A tiny cat will chase away
The dog, to keep the pride at bay.
While lies corrupt and gnaw the soul,
They crush the weak — that’s their goal.

Where’s the insight like the cat’s?
The “dogs” are beasts, worse than that.
Mad and wild, their lies destroy
The meek and lost, they’ve no employ.





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Master of Subtraction, or The Path Without a Path

Up the dust-choked rise,
Like climbing rays of light,
Though nerves may rot and die,
(But for all, I fight),
Not fooled by "Heaven's" lies,
I’ll flee from filth and blight,
Where souls have been destroyed,
I’ll flee the endless night.

No more to stay in Hell,
Not a moment more —
Like Don Quixote, I rebel,
Against the madness they adore.
Madness, filth — too little else,
So I rise with might,
Rejecting rotten thoughts,
That poison mind and sight.





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Advice of the Old Fart

Stress resistance comes from exercise,
While women and liquor — poison and lies!
And the steady run will help you through it,
Like a dynamo, it’ll charge you to it.

It’ll drive out the nonsense, that weighs you down,
The nonsense that kills — now, people are clowns.
Trust no one, relieve your stress, and hope,
Find your own way, laugh at the dopes.

Increase your critique, trust your instinct too,
Reject the filth, let their madness stew.
With a sharp mind, you’ll crush all the vile,
In this world of madness, daring is the style.

Seek and dare. The run will aid the fight.
Sneeze at the filth — let fools chew their bite.
Fight fascism, genocide — show them no mercy,
Or chaos will reign, and you’ll be their prey, a tragedy.





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Swallower

They spew their lies, with force and heat,
To distract from questions we repeat;
With filth they cloud the vision clear —
Thus roars the furnace of Hell’s sheer.

From questions, who these fiends may be,
And who they serve, whose goal they see?
In lies, like frying oil, they stew,
No crack of light in Hell to view.

In lies, they’ve wrapped it all up tight —
A perfect seal to block the light.
Their souls, their minds, they've nearly killed,
Like targets shot through, pierced and drilled.



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Luciferian System, or Paper Money

"Risen" in the market trade,
But to the depths, they quickly fade.
Paper reins and lies so vile —
A tide of filth, a wicked mile.

You ride in circles, round and round,
Forgetting life’s true, deeper ground.
You’ve harnessed dreams to chase a lie —
Paper’s all that’s left to buy.

Spiritual fire, flashes of mind,
Consumed by greed and wealth you find.
Money spreads like pestilence,
A curse that makes no recompense.

The System built a flea market show,
What use are memes in a fool’s woe?
Cash and thrills, that’s all they crave,
While reins decay and people slave.



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Whom You Encounter...

You meet the dulled, the brainwashed, the misled,
Their bloated pride divorced from any reason.
They're fed with lies and fears inside their head—
The kind that nourish falsehood, hate, and treason.

The worst of it? The state-bred fear campaign,
Where fools parade as rulers of the nation.
If fear and evil thoughts infect your brain,
They rot your soul and wreck imagination.

Ideas — that's the root. And evil feeds
Them to the crowd as "values", grand but hollow.
New dogmas rise — and new insane misdeeds,
With beastlike minds too dumb to doubt or follow.

A frenzy of delusions, lies, decay,
And fear plus fear, then fear again — in layers.
It ends in death, though priests will try to say
It’s "life"... just dust dispersed by final prayers.



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Fear-fed and hollow, beasts obey—
New creeds arise, and minds decay.



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The Beyondness

“Seek not the Truth —
just drop opinions.”
— Zen Patriarch Sosan

Seek not the truth —
just slay belief.
The truth is Spirit, calm and brief.
Burn down your fears,
stop pouring lies —
The truth has fled this world of slime.

A global rot,
a fascist game,
With media dulling every brain.
The sane are few —
a scattered spark
In seas of madness, sheep, and dark.

The fools are meek,
the thugs are loud,
And lies spread thick — a toxic cloud.
All views are false
when soul is gone,
When Spirit’s light is not turned on.

Look deep within —
no fear, no fakes —
There, Light will rise as silence breaks.
It won’t be easy —
sloth runs deep,
And thought itself is sick with sleep.

Only intuition
can make you whole,
It is the compass, it is the goal.
Truth isn’t near —
it’s beyond the known.
And you will reach it
once ego’s gone.



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Truth won’t be found through thoughts or lies —
Kill the ego. Let Light rise.



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Flickering

They brand you fast — a clan, a trade, a land —
The tribal mark stamped deep into your mind.
Thus, Primal Thought is stripped by sly command:
A global fraud, sensations redesigned.

Names flash like ads, while chains of “values” cling
More tight than shackles iron ever could.
And so, the masses worship everything —
Obedient, blind, and stupid for “the good.”

Cunning and cowardice take up the space
Where truth and spirit used to stand with grace.
A rotten trick, compensatory shame —
Each wave of fools breeds more of just the same.

They swap the labels, but the game’s the same:
Fascism dressed in every kind of name.
Be it Hitler, or Mao, or Churchill, or Tsar —
One filthy pack, and the filth’s still in charge.

The real beast hides — it rules from the fog,
While global “Tao” is madness in a clog.
Fear doesn’t grow like flowers in a field —
It’s sown, then fed, its harvest pre-concealed.

They grow it with care, they groom it with flair —
That’s what “real politics” always declares.
The zombie-screens flash jesters and whores —
So rulers need not whip you anymore.



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New masks, same chains — the plague is old.
They breed us blind, and sell us gold.



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Combat Psychotherapy

To "adapt" your mind to hell —
That’s their treatment plan. Oh well.
A cheerful donkey in the bin,
While the global madhouse spins.
Reason? Gone. And Spirit? Dead.
Conscience? Trampled, left unsaid.
Is this tale or tragic farce?
Chekhov wrote of such a ward —
Number Six. But time flew past...
Did we change? Or lose it fast?

No — it’s lost. And lost for good.
Mass hypnosis, poison food.
Schools of idiots, screens that lie —
Churn out drones, and truth must die.
When the crowd is ripe and mad,
Then the blast of mass psych spasms
Wrecks all minds, makes reason shatter —
That’s the core of war-born patterns.

Beasts now rule this stupid Earth,
And why war? To prove their worth?
No — it’s bait. The perfect cheese
In the trap that drops with ease.
Poisoned souls? That’s not enough —
Darkness breeds more devil-stuff.
Freaks in rags of thought and power
Train insane in every hour.

Adapt the madness for the war
Against the soul — that’s at its core.
And fate, with all its twisted jest,
Grins cruelly at this loony quest.
They’re no pawns — more like disease,
But they’ll wipe the board with ease:
Kings and pawns, and every fool —
All consumed in madness’ rule.





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Adapt the soul to serve the fight —
And call it healing. Pure black light.



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No Film Today

No film today — the director’s a fool,
The script was sold to some corporate tool.
What’s left to show? A slop for the sheep,
So foul it reeks of rot too deep.

Flush it straight down — that’s all it earns.
This “projector”? Just a toilet that burns.
The world’s gone septic, sunk in waste,
And “critics”? Coroners. No taste.

They poke through corpses, call it review —
Of rot and stench, they always knew.
And still the shit-flood won’t be stopped,
Since media thrones can’t be topped.

We gulp down lies as sacred truth —
The end? A crawling, mindless brute,
Obedient, vile — a soul long dead,
Who feasts on filth and bows his head.



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The film is dead. Long live the slime —
They sold your brain to filth and crime.



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;Those Who Shatter Worlds

The ones who crush this world to dust
Don’t do it blindly — no, they must
Correct the odds, direct the flow,
So herd-like minds won’t even know.

The crowd obeys “desire’s path,”
But that’s a rigged and charted math.
In Hell’s Domain, the laws are clear —
Obey, consume, and disappear.

It’s not just greed — it’s full control,
Propaganda scripts your soul.
“Education” forged in vice,
And monsters rule us — cold as ice.

A beastly gang now grips the Earth,
Their puppet-master mocks all worth.
Name him plain — the Demon’s mask,
While idiots still fail the task.

They rule like fools, but still they burn
The world again — no will to learn.
The sun blazes brighter still,
But not by some demonic will.

The darker things become each day —
The closer you’re to void and grey.



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



They rig the odds, then torch the sky —
Obey the lie, prepare to die.



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



;Division and Unity

"To bring the many to the One — that is the root of beauty."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC


Not to unify — but break:
That’s the path of fake "progress."
Love the fragments, for their sake —
Crushed and stamped beneath the presses.

Then forget the whole you were,
Lose yourself in cheap consuming.
Rot in fear, obey the slur
Of media filth and soul-assuming.

And thus the world comes to its end —
A camp of digits, cold, controlled.
Division breeds the final trend:
A nightmare forged in lies and code.



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



They shattered One to sell us dust —
Now chains are built from fractured trust.



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



On Methods of Curing Cretinism

A sheep-brained, virus-ridden clown,
A zombie soldier — this is End.
Where fascist beasts have seized the crown,
And madness reigns — their perfect trend.

The bottom’s gone — the hole is real.
The idiot now leads the crowd.
For beasts, such fools make perfect meal —
Just feed them lies, then flush them loud.

The world’s digested, flushed in lumps,
A giant turd of “civil thought.”
What’s left to serve with these dumb chumps?
Some brains — but most are sold or shot.

So few still think, and less each day,
As rotten minds infect the stream.
Regression screams. The sick will stay —
No cure for them but fire and flame.

To save the Spirit’s last remains —
That is the task, that is the aim.
A Cataclysm shall break the chains —
Burn cretinism. End the game.





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



No cure for this — just holy fire.
Burn down the swamp of brute desire.



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



;“History” — Penned by Hacks

"History repeats because we lack historians with imagination."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


It’s all written by hacks — that’s law.
Even “history” gets their flaw.
A villain funds some myth to spread —
A sellout scribbles lies instead.

No honest mind will take the bribe —
He knows that trash will twist his tribe,
And choke his children in the end —
Let Evil warp what truths depend.

The media twists “what really was,”
Distorts the world for filthy cause.
Today or yesterday — it’s hell,
And ruled by one who hides it well.



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



Lies write the past, hacks stain the page —
And Hell returns in every age.



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



;The Cleansing to Come

"The lesser evil must be praised as good."
— Niccol; Machiavelli


Evil grows by its own plan —
The “lesser” soon becomes the grace.
Each step down, it fools the man,
Till rock-bottom hugs his face.

And now we’ve hit it — CowID
Made it plain for all to see.
What do maggots call “the good”?
Whatever keeps the price tag free.

They crave cheap junk, a stable rate,
They plug their ears, deny the loss.
But Earth is gone — it’s far too late.
The filth will burn beneath the gloss.



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



The world is lost — enjoy your screen.
The purge begins to wipe it clean.



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



;I'll Build a Castle in the Air
Crowned with a Tower of Delirium.
A carefree life — beyond despair —
With rules I wrote, my own Imperium.

But orderlies came in a pack,
And with them marched a cop in tow.
They dragged me off — no coming back.
The law is clear: No dreams. Just woe.



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



Dreams are banned — the world’s decree.
Build a castle? Welcome, psych ward key.



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



;“Victories” and “Change” Beneath the Yoke of Satanism

"Many triumphal arches were later worn as yokes."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


When Evil wins, the scum proclaim
Another “triumph” in its name.
And soon the herd is yoked once more —
A different chain, the same old war.

Each “victory” is just disguise:
One yoke removed — another flies.
“Change!” scream the screens with fervent glee —
While necks are chained more zealously.

The Media howls: “A golden age!”
As lies replace the iron cage.
From yoke to YOKE — the people fade.
Their gods are dead. The devil’s paid.



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



From triumph arch to choking yoke —
The “change” is real — now bend and choke.



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



Socialist Realism

Chapaev, Petka, Anka — all
Are cursing through each bitter brawl.
The commissar? Their “guiding light” —
A live reproach, a holy blight.

“Freedom” thrives by feeding lies,
They build a camp — with “socialist” skies.
The grand experiment won’t last —
Their commissar’s a clueless ass.



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



They built a camp, they called it “bright” —
But filled it full of flies and blight.





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



;The Universal Lie

"To lie is to insult myself more than the one I lie about."
— Michel de Montaigne


Self-inflicted pain,
The world pushed to the brink.
Truth is slaughtered once again —
And lies are what we drink.

That’s why the masses rot:
Defective minds, diseased.
So many “holy Sundays” bought,
So much delusion pleased.

They need their daily dose
Of fiction, fat, and ease —
To fill their guts with empty hopes,
And rot in Global Lies and grease.



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



They kill the truth, then cheer and feast —
The global lie now breeds the beast.



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



;The “People” Rose — So They Were Told

“The people rose!” — or so they claim,
A puppet screamed the noble aim.
“Stand tall again!” — the order sticks,
Then off they go to kill for kicks.

Not for a flag or sacred land,
But medals, cash, a bloody hand.
What’s rising here? Just swamp and fog —
Centuries deep in filth and slog.



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



They “stood up” straight — with boots in gore,
Still sinking deeper than before.



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



The End Draws Near

The end is coming — can't you tell?
But reason’s jammed, not working well.
Fear-fogged lenses smear the view,
So nonsense passes for the truth.

Through rot and lies and veils of dread,
The herd denies the doom ahead.
They call collapse a minor glitch,
While media bark, whine, curse, and pitch.

The people “live” in fairy tales,
Wearing delusion like chainmail.
And those who speak without a leash
Get crushed by fools in helmets — each.





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



The world is burning, blind with fear —
And cowards jeer when truth comes near.



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



Poisoned Lines

These lines are laced with venom — pure.
But scum won’t read; they seek no cure.
To strike the proud, to break the wise,
We crush their fear, unmask their lies.

They're filled with dread, with rot and shame —
Few walk the world still clean, still sane.
This realm is ruled by fevered cries,
Where Darkness thrives on global lies:

Lie, and threaten, crush the meek,
Till minds are cattle, dumb and weak.
Submit — and you become the swine.
That swine’s the Darkness by design.



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



Submit to lies — you rot inside.
The swine of Darkness wants you tied.



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



;The Frailty of Mankind

Serve the Eternal — nothing less.
No “human warmth” in that abyss:
It’s fleeting, weak, a dying breath,
For Earth today is ruled by death.

The human now’s a devil’s brand —
An icon of a doomed command.
CowID, rashism, fear and lies —
We “live” beneath the final skies.



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



Mankind’s the mask of Satan’s game —
The end is here. And we’re to blame.



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



;The Old Optimist

The youth, a fool, is led by smiles,
His mind is pure — it runs for miles.
But fear would break him, tear his heart,
So lies and delusions play their part.

We raise the false, and blind his eyes,
While shame is buried deep in lies.



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



The lies lift him, but truth would break,
His mind is weak — too lost to wake.



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



The Lone Wolf

Are there rules, or instincts wild?
How many lies, how much denial!
Here fear and howls and vicious barks,
The world is drowned in endless dark.

If you’re outside — you’re cast aside,
To beasts you’re mad — they’ll take no pride.
They’ll show the pack, just what’s at stake —
The mind is dead, they howl and shake.

The lone wolf’s path is few and rare,
From them alone, some truth may flare.
For all the herd — they bring no gain,
Just stupid noise and endless pain.



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



The pack is weak, the lone wolf fights,
The truth is born in lonely nights.



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



Madness Strikes Like Machine Guns

Madness mows like machine guns' fire,
Crossing flames, no chance to tire.
The infantry’s fate, it’s set in stone,
No matter how tough, you're on your own.

Generations march to those same guns,
From every squad, just one survives.
It’s no coincidence — the mind’s undone,
For the beast’s will, the goal deprives.



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



The guns are deaf, the truth is mute,
The beast controls, the mind’s pursuit.



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



The Global Cockroach Darkness

The darkness in the cockroach’s lair,
Is hard to grasp, it’s everywhere.
In fascist filth, where lies abound,
The beasts will lie, without a sound.

Few minds remain, so sharp, so pure,
In wars of blood, or thought demure.
And if one’s found, they’ll crush the soul,
In battles where the mind's the goal.

It’s not the Dark, but Fear that reigns,
And in its wake, the filth remains.
The world of traitors, lying scum,
It stinks of death — the horrors come.

Sanitation, that's the key,
To cleanse this filth, and set us free.
But time is short, the rot’s too strong,
The stench has lingered far too long.





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



The rot will burn, the filth will fade,
The beast shall fall, the mind’s crusade.



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



Personality or Schizophrenia

Is a lie the core of self,
Or is it just schizophrenia's stealth?
A different thing? Isn’t it clear?
This question’s simple, never fear.

Yes, schizophrenia!
For the self to vanish,
When the mind dictates,
And the soul will diminish.

No book will tell you this truth —
The world’s gone mad, there’s no proof.
Only a few will fly like birds,
Not writing books, but breaking words.

They won’t write pages —
To sober up the sages.
Maybe I gave too much,
So bury your mind in a crutch...



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



The mind is blind, the soul decays,
Only truth can clear the haze.



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



Dead Flesh

They yap — ignore it!
They lie — ignore it!
The world’s got no grace:
Lie bolder,
Be colder —
Among the “kings” who...
...decompose.

Alive? Move ahead!
Leave the rabble,
All the lies of the BEAST—
Away from decay!
The Spiritual Path
Goes through the fright
Of the dead-“men.”
Ignore! Ignore!!!

"Other worlds,"
Gifts of the mind,
And beauty’s find
You’ll reach, my friend,
When you LEAVE,
Then you’ll drive the nails
In the coffin of lies and diseases—
Or be gone,
Not worth a cent.



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



Lies and death — they rule this land,
Only truth, when you take a stand.



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



Drive Fear and Nonsense Away

The death of the heart’s a way to hide,
To escape reality, and crush the fear inside.
So they drive QUESTIONS from the mind,
Fill it with nonsense — that’s the way they find.

A cocoon is formed with rotting core inside,
It’s death, but alive — now it no longer hides!
Yet to the BEASTS, you’ll be but a pelt.
This ostrich world will sink you to where it’s dealt.

The bottom’s hit. The zombies walk, wretched and slow,
No future for the living, just a hollow, dead flow.
Freaks without hearts, the judas, they cheer,
But the film will end with death’s final sneer.

Dead to the dead. And for the living, awaits
A mockery of paradise, a quarantine of fate!
If the heart still beats, it’s bound in this cocoon,
So drive fear and nonsense away, and make it gone soon!



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



;Why is the Pseudo-Life Suspended?

The thread’s been snapped? Or just a whim?
You hang by nothing — lost within.
A life so wretched, just “for show,”
That’s why you’re here — and just a shadow.



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



;"The Distant Light"

With sorrow deep, the Soul is veiled,
For by the "distant light" betrayed,
The fools rush on, deceived and blind —
To Hell they race, no peace to find.



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



;Victory on Paper

"Of cheerful good" they write,
Yet in the ravine, you’ll find,
The traces of the game —
That evil leaves behind.



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



Boxing Nonsense

Mini, maxi,
AI, proxy —
In nonsense, it’s all fused.
The world’s insane:
With boxing’s game,
It’s turned to rage, abused.



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



Restoration of Strength

As much as needed —
So it will be,
To the brink —
Then they’ll return to me.

Save yourself?
No need for that —
"Life" becomes the noose
For the rat.



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



Furnace of Rage

I’ll heat the furnace white-hot,
And to hell with it all;
In the Dark, I've reached the spot:
Only Fire can end this rot.



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



Smash This Hell

Smash this Hell —
Or you’re a rat.
If you’re pleased with scraps,
With sheep in your pack,
And the master’s your media,
Your goal’s in the past —
You’ll never escape:
The rats will eat fast.



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



Oil Painting, or Global Injections

"School" — life’s tonic: no pill
Can describe the madness found,
Add some shots to kill the fools,
And it’ll paint the scene around.

An “Pre-heartattack” picture forms,
What a mess, it’s all a wreck!
If idiots believe in Evil,
Then the world’s on its last check.

Few are not these idiots —
A drop within the sea,
It’s all gone, it’s all lost,
The end of Thought and Liberty.



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



Pomegranate, Gift of the South

The pomegranate, southern gift —
A life-giving delight.
If health is sinking, swift,
Try this fruit to make it right.

You’ll feel it in an instant —
The nectar pure and sweet,
It drives out the resistance,
And turns the tide to feast.

Healthy? It won’t harm you,
There’s nothing better, true —
It gives you strength anew,
So take it in, it’s due.



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



Harvest of Darkness

The world’s a pit of fear and lies.
You stand alone — or you will die.
The mob is filth. Their leaders — worse.
Each breath they take, a deeper curse.

The wise don't beg, don't sell, don't bow.
They fight — or rot with cattle now.
The scum ride slaves, then drown in shame.
The time has come. The blade — the flame.

No gods, no dreams — just war and dirt.
No second chance. No shield. No hurt.
Stand hard. Stand fierce. Or rot away —
The Harvest reaps who fall today.





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



;The Traditional Vile World

"Lost in words, confused in concepts,
Man loses the scent of truth, the taste of nature.
What strength of thought one must have,
To suspect this moral stench —
And with a spinning head rush out
Into the fresh air,
Which everyone around is taught to fear!"
Alexander Herzen


Born in a Hustle-Bustle Bedlam,
You're drowned in fog of empty words.
At first, you trust your dad and mama,
Delighted by their fairy worlds.

As years go on — more myths, more stories —
Fake science shines like Perrault’s tales.
Yet slowly darkness claims the glories:
Through lies and fear, pure evil sails.

They drug your mind — “morality” they name it,
While daily bread enslaves your soul.
You spend your life just stuffing stomachs,
Oblivious you're losing all.

The media’s constant foul persuasion
Will rot your heart without a trace.
You won’t perceive your own damnation:
A vulgar fool — a soulless face.

Thus "traditions" are constructed —
A tool for Darkness, bold and broad.
Through "sacred customs," souls corrupted
Are shaped into an empty horde.



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



Overstrain of the Creator

The artist’s fatigue is beyond all measure—
Words miss the mark, and toil brings no gain.
And “life,” as it does, flies past without pleasure,
A tangent, indifferent to beauty or pain.

Alone? Of course. That’s the toll and the treasure.
A curse for the fools—but a crown for the few.
He’ll squeeze out his blood on the canvas with pressure—
No tears are allowed. There's too much to do.

No whining, no meekness, no crawling submission—
That’s filth for the fakes, for the weak and the bored.
It’s rage without end, and the ruthless ignition
Of strength that exceeds what the flesh can afford.

And what does it yield? A result that is tragic:
No help—unless lying becomes your new voice.
Through darkness you walk, without hope or with magic—
But after you die, you may finally rejoice.



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



Bleed or Be Nothing.
No tears. No pleas.
Just burn through the darkness
On shattered knees.



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



For Whom the Bell — and Other Tiresome Crap — Tolls

For whom the bell — or school bell — tolls?
For whom drone sermons, grunts, and rolls?
For all. But deaf and dumb remains
This world in chains, too bored for brains.

What sings the clown upon the stage?
Of myths — the “truths” of every age.
The herd just loves that fairytale,
It masks the rot, the stench, the jail.

When noise assaults from every gate,
Our ears explode — it's all dead weight.
It’s time to think — but droning floods
Will drown each spark beneath the duds.

There’s just one law: endure and crawl,
And trust the talking heads — that's all.
These idiots won’t wake until
The world breaks loose from Bedlam’s will.

The Global Bedlam soon will split,
Collapse into a screaming pit.
But now — more lies, more talking heads,
More “songs” to rot your mind to shreds...





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



The bells all toll — and still you snore.
They feed you myths, you beg for more.
But Bedlam cracks — and when it falls,
No lie will prop these rotting walls.



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



The sky will scream, the earth will tear,
The myths will burn in poisoned air.
The bells will toll — not one will hide.
The Beast you fed will now decide.



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



The bell is cast. The end is near.
The age of lies dissolves in fear.
The sleepers fall. The blind shall see.
What was — shall burn. What is — shall flee.



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



And lo — the voice like thunder spoke:
“The chains shall snap, the veil be broke.
The night shall rise, the proud shall drown.
The lie shall wear the iron crown.”



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



The Traditional Rotten World

"Entangled in fake words and notions,
Man loses truth’s and nature’s taste.
How strong must thought be, through the poison,
To fight the stench and flee in haste!"
Alexander Herzen

Born into Bedlam's filthy spitting,
You're drowned in smoke of rotten lies.
At first, you trust your parents’ fitting
Of fairy tales for shut-down eyes.

The myths grow thicker, filth grows faster —
Fake science dressed in Perrault’s grin.
Yet creeping through this bright disaster,
True Evil plants its roots within.

They rape your mind — call it “morality,”
While bellies rule your toiling life.
Your days dissolve in bestiality —
A breathing corpse, devoid of strife.

The media’s foul streams will bind you,
Corrupt your soul and rot your core.
You’ll never feel how filth enshrines you:
You’ll stink of death — and ask for more.

That’s why they sing of "noble traditions" —
The sludge through which the darkness spawns.
Through sacred lies and dumb submissions
They mold a herd for future dawns.



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



Harvest Time

Fear and lies — the world's disease.
Bend your neck — or die on knees.
The herd obeys; the scum command.
The last of men make their last stand.

No dreams to chase. No gods to pray.
The blade is near. The hour — gray.
Stand hard. Stand sharp. Stand all alone.
The Harvest comes. Protect your own.








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



Dissolution of the World

Subject, object — lies and dust.
Fear and fables rule the just.
Spirit’s realm knows no divide —
If your mind is not denied,

Let it bow, and let it serve
Spirit's law with steady nerve.
Then this petty world will blur —
Like a trap with rotting curd.



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



Rotten World

Serve the Spirit — break the lie.
This world’s a trap. Let it die.



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



The Roofer

The roof of the world is leaking —
Or perhaps just slowly sneaking?
The roofer asks his bitter questions,
But trash replies with no objections.

These roof-devourers — just waste!
Ask the wall — you’ll get more taste.
No use seeking sense in scum —
Their skin is thick, their hearts are numb.

And their skulls are forged from steel.
Under lies, the world can’t feel.
If the rooftop slides away —
Who can tell, when lies hold sway?


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


Sparrows and Propagandists

Chirp-chirp-chree —
The sparrow sings.
Mind can’t see —
Two-legged things

Got their brains
And souls scrubbed clean.
Washed down drains —
Now hear the scene:

Chirp-chirp-chree,
Not their mad moan —
Just pure glee,
Not lies from freaks they've overgrown.

Variations of the last stanza:
1.
Chirp-chirp-chree —
Not the freaks’ deranged parade!
Let truth fly free —
Not the filth those traitors made.

2.
Chirp, not lies —
Drown the freaks in their disguise.

---

Sparrows and Scum

Chirp-chirp-chree —
The bird is singing.
Brains? Flee.
The scum are clinging.

Media bile
Has scorched their heads.
Gone in style —
Now truth lies dead.

Chirp-chirp-chree —
Not their sick spell.
Let minds break free —
And drag those bastards down to hell.

---

Sparrow vs. the Swine

Chirp away,
Bright little bird.
Brains decay —
Truth is slurred.

Media bile
Floods their heads.
Souls on trial,
Reason's dead.

Chirp, not screams
From soulless drones —
Sold-out teams
Pushing lies through megaphones.



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



In This World of Empty Sound

In a world of hollow chatter,
Nothing's real — it doesn’t matter.
Even you are just pretense,
If you stomach the offense

Of a stinking, festering lie
Year by year — and still comply —
Trapped and tamed, a quiet wreck
In a madhouse full of dreck.



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



Rot in lies, stay tame and blind —
Caged among the filth-designed.



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



Problem — Reaction — “Solution”

Create a crisis, stoke the fear —
Let media scream it far and near.
Then all the worms begin to preach
Of “freedom” — just within their reach...

The “fix” is ready. What a feat!
That’s why the problem was so neat.
“Into your burrows! Shake with dread!
Obey! No whining!” — so it's said.

“A brilliant F;hrer leads us on —
The Earthly Paradise is drawn!
Forget your conscience — serve your skin!
Too clever? Gulag's where you’ll win.”

“Solutions” sprout from poisoned dirt.
New plagues are born — no need to hurt
Your brain with thought, when empty crowds
Are mute, and weak, and drugged with doubt.



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



Scare. Obey. The lie’s in bloom —
And clever minds go straight to doom.



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



Tight Set of Clowns, or The U.S. Two-Party System

Two grand parties, same old scam —
A clown parade since time began.
The lineup’s tight — a fool’s delight
Who finds such limits pure and right.

A circus show, the ballot game —
They “play” at freedom, what a shame.
Few clowns? No worry — here’s the twist:
They’re nearly clones, you get the gist.

It’s fake, and staged, and everywhere —
But Europe's got a wilder flair:
More masks, more crap — still slaves, still chained,
Still kneeling low, still soul-restrained.

---

Vote your clown, pretend it’s free —
Still on your knees. Democracy.

---

Tight Set of Clowns, or The U.S. Two-Party System (Dystopian Version)

Two parties — but they’re one at heart,
A clownish dance to tear apart.
A system built to mock your mind,
Where freedom's just a cage, confined.

A rigged charade, a poisoned choice —
The fools who “lead” with hollow voice.
Not just a clown — but mindless drones,
Their faces blank, like broken bones.

Imitation, lies, and chains,
Where Europe’s madness still remains.
The world’s enslaved, its future dim,
Forever chained — no chance to swim.

---

Clowns on stage, but chains remain —
A world enslaved, a mind in pain.



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



Dystopia of Decay

Once bright minds are crushed to dust,
Beneath the weight of endless rust.
The truth decays, the lies remain,
A sterile world, where hearts are slain.

The rulers wear a mask of might,
But in their eyes, there's only night.
The people crawl, devoid of sound,
Their spirits broken, bound and drowned.

The streets are lined with hollow screams,
Where hope is sold in shattered dreams.
No voices left, no thoughts to lead —
Just empty souls, devoid of need.

The air is thick with choking lies,
A rotting truth beneath the skies.
Doomed to repeat the same old dance,
In chains, forever — lost by chance.



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



Lost in lies, no light remains —
A world decayed, in endless chains.



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



Degradometer

The speed of decay,
Now measured in time.
The world’s in dismay,
Occupied by grime.

It’s easy to fool,
To dumb down and maim,
But lying’s the tool
To extinguish the flame.

There’s plenty of ways
To rot all you see,
Propaganda’s blaze
Twists minds endlessly.

Start with the children,
The soul’s where it starts,
Then every decision
Tears truth apart.

In the degradometer,
The lowest is found,
A millimeter closer,
And you're doomed to the ground.



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


Decay's on the rise,
Truth's lost in their lies.


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


Reading Material

Agent Zero-Seven, Fool Zero-Eight,
Their bond is strong, yet no leads wait.
When children ask the Fool for truth,
They’ll get pure nonsense, lies forsooth.

For degradation, efforts must
Be spent on vile and poisoned dust.
What’s left but ignorance? Weakness —
Its value grows in endless madness.

War is cruel — it’s soul’s destruction,
The mind’s the target in the function.
Decay is here, it spreads and spreads,
Through clips and clicks and empty heads.

And then, some reading, just a bit —
The Fool responds, so sure of it.
He thinks he lives a life so grand,
With death, of course, far from his hand.


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


In books of lies, they rot the mind —
Death’s distant still, but blind they find.


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


Degradation

Degradation is the only law,
The one that rules us, cold and raw.
Spirit and honor — all are slain,
The mind cast out, the soul in chains.

Braindead fools across the land,
They crush you with a heavy hand,
Wasting your nerves, draining your might,
Bending you to serve their blight.

Here, the wise cannot survive —
Fascism completes its final drive.
All that’s left is to decay,
With muzzles tight and needles’ sway.

But nature sets the limits still,
Its law defines the bitter spill.
It breeds corruption, poisons all,
And expels the filth from every wall.

It all will start again, but then —
Without us, lost in death's own pen,
Unless we break fascism’s claw,
Before the Spirit fades and falls.



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


Decay will rise, the wise will fall —
Fascism’s grip destroys us all.


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


Intuition

In the sea of illusions, vast,
Intuition’s the saving mast.
For lost in confusion and strife,
You’ll drift like a fool through your life —

Until you turn on your inner guide,
It’s always been there, by your side.
But the social norms, so strong and cruel,
Fight it with force, try to make you a fool.

They drown it out with their poisoned lies —
Like "knowledge" that leads to your demise.
This horror of falsehood will quietly slay,
And drag all the minds in its sway.

Trust nothing at all — be smarter, beware.
Trust intuition, let it guide you with care.
Everything "known" is a lie at its core,
For the liar's behind it — the Beast evermore.



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



Don’t trust their lies, they’ll lead you astray,
Only intuition can light your way.


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



Questions Misplaced

Question — answer:
A lie and nonsense,
They leave a mark
For years to come.

In the mind, in the soul.
The result — it's done,
If you trust the Dark.
Like a worm in muck,

Living among lies.
Its worth is nothing.
Resigned? Well then —
In it, you'll rot.



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


In the dark, you’ll rot and fall,
Living in lies, lost to it all.


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


To Go Into Circulation

Pol Pot’s not waiting —
No doubt about it:
The people are spent,
Their mark in history, lit.

What of the poet’s mark?
The editor's a jerk.
If you push the lie,
“For us and you,” don't shirk.

Then forward, go —
Into circulation you’ll flow.
In it, the verse will die,
But the type will still comply.

And "cheerfulness" too,
And "optimism" —
THE LIES WILL GROW:
Around us, fascism's grim.

Fascism is always near —
And "perkiness"?
Then death is here,
Into circulation, no finesse.


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


Fascism’s the game,
Lies bring no fame.


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


Agent Zero-Zero... Minus Seven

Bond, to be "bonded"? Steal the sense —
Amuse with foolish tales and trends.
In entertainment, the world’s suspended —
Bread and circuses, to hell with the rest.

The media knows,
With mass culture, what’s the deal:
A slave for Darkness is needed —
Less "food" that will help the mind heal.

But heaps of crap,
To keep the people stuck,
Unable to escape,
Their minds lost in the muck of Evil’s luck.


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


In the dark, they keep you tied,
With lies and trash, your mind’s denied.





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



Òèïà "ëþäè", èëè Ôàíòàñìàãîðèÿ ìèðêà

"Ëþäîåäû ïðåäïî÷èòàþò áåñõðåáåòíûõ".
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


Êëóáîê ÷åðâåé, ãíîáÿò èõ çìåè —
Ôàíòàñìàãîðèÿ ìèðêà.
Íî ëþäîåä âíóøèòü óìååò:
"Òû ÷åëîâåê, õîòü íåëåãêà

Ñóäüáà, íî áóäåò âñ¸ â ïîðÿäêå".
Òàê ïîêîëåíèÿ ÷åðâåé
×ðåç äîæäü âîéíû îïÿòü íà ãðÿäêå
Âî âðåìÿ ïèðà íå-ëþäåé.

Äëÿ ïèðà ãîäíû ëæå-áîëåçíè —
"Èñïàíêà", íûíåøíèé ãîâíèä:
Êîëü ÷åðâè öåëû, òî ïîëåçíåé
Ïèùåâàðåíèþ çëûõ ãíèä.



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



Íàãèå èäåè

"Êðàñèâîé îäåæäîþ ìûñëü íå óêðàñèøü.
Ïîýò – îí âàÿòåëü. Ïîýò – íå ïîðòíîé.
×òîá ìèð îöåíèë ñîâåðøåíñòâî èäåè,
ÿâè åå ìèðó íàãîé".
;Ìèãåëü äå Óíàìóíî.


Íàãèå èäåè
Óðîäöû íå ñìåþò
Áåçóìíîìó ìèðó òîëêàòü:
Ãîíè ïðî "ëþáîâü", íà èíîå íà÷õàòü!



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



Ðîãàòûé

"Áîã íå àíãåë".
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


Áîã íå àíãåë, áîã ïîäëåö —
Ïðàâ Ñòàí`èñëàâ `Åæè Ëåö.



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



Ðîãàòûé áîã

 îãëóïëåíèè îí ñïåö,
À â äåëèøêàõ âñåõ ïîäëåö —
Áîã Ðîãàòûé. Íàì êàïåö,
Âåäü â "ïîäêîðêó" âñåì íàì âëåç.




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



Ïóò¸ì îøèáîê è ïàäåíèé
Èä¸ì, íî â ìûñëÿõ: "Âåðåí êóðñ!"
Ëèøü â åäèíèöàõ ñîæàëåíèé
Êîï`èòñÿ íåïîäú¸ìíûé ãðóç.




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



Âîéíà èä¸ò, íî íàñòîÿùèé
Ïðîòèâíèê âíîâü íå âèäåí íàì:
Îí â ïðîâîêàöèÿõ áëåñòÿùèé —
 ðàçäîðàõ äåðæèò âåñü Çåìíîé Áåäëàì. 




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



Òîëåðàñòèÿ

Óìíûé ÷óâñòâà îñêîðáëÿåò
Âñåõ óáîãèõ äóðàêîâ,
À ñâîáîäà óãíåòàåò
Âñåõ ñòîðîííèêîâ îêîâ.



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



Tree structure


Tree-like Structure? What a Lie!
A tree-like structure — fraud and fluff,
A fake, a farce, outdated stuff.
Life is FRACTAL — fools don’t get it,
Just like bots don't grasp regret it.

A tree-like order, upside down,
Is slaves’ "culture" in a crown:
A circus ruled by twisted freaks,
By crooks and clowns and mindless geeks.

All is mirrored — low and high,
All includes all — that’s no lie.
“Climb the top”? Then face the curse:
When trees fall roots-up, that's reverse.


---

Roots Above — Rot Below

Your “ladder up” is hell in drag —
The root's above. Enjoy the gag.

---

Fractals Against the False Tree

1. Fractal Truth, Tree Lies
You preach the tree — I see the trap.
Fractals rise. Your roots collapse.

2. Hierarchy of Fools
Crowned by freaks, upheld by slaves —
Your sacred tree just grows in graves.

3. Bot Can't Feel
The bot obeys, the bot won’t cry —
It climbs your tree, but asks not why.

4. Parade of Freaks
The freaks parade in ordered rows —
Your tree blooms rot. And madness grows.

5. False Tree, True Void
The tree you serve is just a mask —
The root is nowhere. Dare to ask.

6. Inverted Light
You climb for light — but light won’t stay
Where roots face up and truth decays.

7. Curse of the False Tree
Your tree is dead — its roots ungrounded.
You seek the skies, but fall confounded.
No upward path through lies and lore —
The Light begins beyond the core.

8. Fractal Law
No chain, no throne — the Truth expands,
In branching flames, not grasping hands.
A fractal pulse, alive, aware —
While trees of power rot in air.

9. Voice of the Inner Flame
You built your tree on fear and rule?
I laugh — I burn beyond your school.
No roots, no crown can bind the spark —
I rise through silence. I am arc.

10. Manifesto of the Flame
I do not bow to roots or kings —
Their order breaks on higher wings.
Let trees collapse — I stand alone,
A voice unbound, a living tone.



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



The Shame of Earth

Half-thoughts, half-sighs, and twilight minds,
Whipped by rage the system blinds.
Twitched by lies, their nerves collapse —
The end result? A mad relapse.

A sturdy psycho, fierce and bold,
Becomes the wall the masses hold.
This world is vile, deranged, obscene —
If you’re sane, you don’t fit in.

The sane are freaks — there’s just a few.
But madmen? Countless through and through.
It’s all gone rotten, can’t you see?
This mob’s the shame of Earth to me.



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



Mob of Shame

Madness rules, the truth is banned —
Cowards cheer and liars stand.
Sanity is exile’s fee.
Earth’s disgrace? This herd I see.



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



Cohesion

"Imhoff's Law:
Every bureaucratic organization resembles a septic tank —
the biggest chunks always float to the top."
— Arthur Bloch, Murphy’s Law

The shit unites — and rises
In SEWAGE, thick and proud.
Here, failure’s the disguises
For fools who aren’t loud.

If you're a baseborn fighter
With filth inside your grin —
You're rising with the lighters.
But honest? Sane within?

Then rot between the layers,
Choke on the stinking fog.
In SEWAGE, hope betrays you —
Unless you are a dog.



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



Top Scum

The filth floats up — that’s how it works.
The honest drown. The top is jerks.
This tank rewards the loudest rot.
Be clean? Then rot — or join the lot.




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



Decadence of Armageddon

"Left! Now right!" — the fools obey,
Ranks are tight — no room, no way.
Brutes oppress with rabid might,
Spewing madness day and night,

Madness fed to them as law.
No escape, no guiding ray —
Scum will grind and gnash with awe.
In this world, the Mind must stay

Locked within and sealed from rot.
This is it — the end is near.
Years are numbered. Like it or not,
You're doomed if you bow to fear.

If you bow to braying cattle,
Make a cringe in vain pretense —
You're a cub on melting floe now.
Ice is breaking. DECADENCE.



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



Melt with the Herd

You bowed — you're done. The end’s begun.
The ice is cracking. Nowhere to run.
The mob howls lies, the sane fall dead.
This is Decadence — go ahead.



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



Poisoned Books

The "Water Cycle" tale they teach —
Sounds tidy, simple, in their speech.
No questions asked by minds asleep,
But seen with truth — it's shallow, cheap.

Earth breathes — and clouds arise within,
Not dropped like cargo from the spin.
Nature is wiser, subtly grand,
But fools won't grasp what she has planned.

No textbook law, no sterile chart
Can teach the soul or train the heart.
The inhuman who rule the day
Want Mechanism — their decay.

They dull the sense, destroy the thread
That makes life conscious, not half-dead.
They lie again, distort and twist —
Each "science" forged to feed the mist.

The soul is poisoned by their creed.
And if the soul no longer leads,
Then all your learning, all your wish is
Buried deep in... Poisoned Books — fictitious.



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



Befuddled books


Mob of Shame

The filth floats up — that’s how it works.
The honest drown. The top is jerks.
This tank rewards the loudest rot.
Be clean? Then rot — or join the lot.


Top Scum

The filth floats up — that’s how it goes.
The worst are crowned. The rest just froze.
The ones with guts are left to drown.
The scum stands tall. The brave go down.


Melt with the Herd

You bowed — you're done. The end’s begun.
The ice is cracking. Nowhere to run.
The mob howls lies, the sane fall dead.
This is Decadence — go ahead.


The Books Are Poison

They teach you lies, they sell you looks —
But Truth won’t bleed from poisoned books.
Kill soul, kill mind — that’s how it’s done.
And once it’s done — they’ve won.


Mechanized Mind

They feed you gears instead of skies,
Replace the soul with coded lies.
Perception dies — machine obeys.
The Book’s the cage. Now crawl. And praise.




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



Through Mistakes and Falls

Through errors, falls, we make our way,
But in our minds, the course holds sway.
In just a few regrets, it seems,
A crushing load of broken dreams.



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



The Poet Is "NO!!!"

The poet is "NO!!!"
When the vulgar world
Is lost in madness (its idol curled).
Madness is total.
The poet is NERVE.
If evil’s victories are endless,
And traitors’ ranks are vast,
Burn yourself —
Then, smoking,
Shouting, rough,
You’ll save your Soul
In the crowd
Of fascist thralls.
Let slaves be everywhere,
Shout "NO!" to them,
If you say "yes,"
You’re one of them,
In Total Evil,
Multiplying madness.



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



Futility, Sickness, Uselessness

Futility, sickness, pointlessness,
Barrenness, madness. Clarity’s
Rare, like Pure Souls, whose light
Can crush the lie — listen to the Soul’s insight.

If the Mind is subject to the Spirit,
You’ll slay all fear, leave madness lit
Only in the world outside —
Within, you’ll raise Reason, cast aside.

The world’s rationality — a mere condition,
Its ugliness, its gloom, its bleak admission.
Reason’s fragments — multiply them, too,
With thought or verse, let them renew.



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



Palette

Gray and white? Black and gray!
How they mock with skies of blue.
The paint of black, in skillful play,
The CREATURES pour — to reach the glue

Of the abyss, their goal, their task.
The work of sinking never rests.
In this world of selling fools,
Black paint stinks — it's their protest.



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



The Fool and the Mob

The fool, with chaos, all around,
He lets it loose — no thought, no sound.
The useless, wild, and savage crew,
A tool for attack, that’s all they do.

Who strikes? The filth — a loathsome breed,
They turn all things to rot and greed.
The world is sunk — so deep, so low,
It’s fallen past what we can know.



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



Perspectives and Breakthroughs

"Love" with fury,
Jealousy’s bane.
A louse on a platter —
Life’s bitter strain.

Friendship’s dust,
Truth’s lost, they say.
The CREATURES rush
To spread their sway.

Madness is tainted,
It’s everywhere.
The people enslaved
In false despair.

Perspectives?
None at all.
But BREAKTHROUGHS?
They’ll come, to call.

They’ll tremble —
"Judgment day!"
The evil bend not —
They’ll find their way.



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



The War Goes On

The war rages, yet the true foe
Is hidden from our sight again:
In provocations, it does grow,
In strife, it keeps the world in pain.




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



"People," or The Phantasmagoria of the Little World

A writhing mass, the worms they breed,
By snakes oppressed, in twisted speed.
Yet the cannibal can surely say:
"You're human, though the path’s astray,

But all will be well in the end."
So generations of the worm,
Through war’s storm, again they’ll bend,
While feasting, they’ll rework the term.

For feasts, the false diseases thrive —
The "Spanish flu" — a present blight.
If worms are whole, then they survive,
Aiding the digestion of the blight.




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



Mother Cat Watches Over

Mother cat, she guards her kin,
Protects her kittens, keeps them in.
Not like those vile, base creatures —
Many beasts, but minds are features

Of consumption, like in Sodom’s fall.
The world is like a cancer’s thrall:
It rots the souls, and soon, it’s clear,
The minds dissolve, and disappear.




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



Naked Ideas

Naked ideas,
The ugly dare not send,
Into a mad world to confide:
"Speak of ‘love,’ the rest, pretend!"




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



You Think It’s Hard?

Think it’s hard
To calculate the rot?
If all is false —
It pushes forth a lot!

That rot, it spreads
All 'round you here.
A miracle — it’s not dead,
If Soul remains, though filled with fear.




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



Global Warming

Ancient, dusty trash —
"The mind" of any crowd;
Beasts crave the brash,
The vile, the proud.

Minions of the beasts —
The brutes will lead,
Step off the tracks,
And they’ll erase you with speed.

The brute loves the junk,
Ancient and new,
The filth that’s sunk,
Propaganda’s brew.

"A beacon" for the swine —
"The truth of the age."
The world of the vile,
Of lies, of rage.

Trash has taken root —
It’s time for the bin.
That moment has come —
The sun burns all sin.




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




The Beast's Gold and Power

The beast installed gold and power
As the highest price. Well, that's the end—
The beasts have won. Is soul worth less?
They lie more, and pay is slight again.

Less pay, the lies will shrink
The costs of evil. Save it all,
For evil feeds on fools who think
Their lies will lift them when they fall.




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



Tolerance

The wise offend the senseless fools,
While freedom weighs on those in chains;
It crushes all who cling to rules,
And binds the hearts that still remain.




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




The Circus in the Latrine

"Justice" like a circus show,
"Law" as flexible as clay—
The "strong" can slip, the "weak" will go,
And power always finds its way.

You may slip, or rise on high,
The rod’s bent low, and silence reigns,
The "judges" meek, as rats may cry,
The world’s a latrine, full of stains.

What Hitler taught, the filth still spreads,
Where courts and justice fall away.
Honor’s lost, and reason’s dead—
Only skin and bones remain to sway.

The filthy are the crowd, you see—
That’s why the world’s a stinking pit,
Where creatures thrive, and all agree,
To call this mess a "world"—we quit.




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




Horses...

Ponies —
horses,
And the fool
A brute force of fascist rule.




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




Kremlbot

Kremlbot isn’t a fool—
There’s a method to the game!
To poison fools with lies so cruel
Is an honor to his name.

"Honor’s mine!" — Lucifer
Leads his legions to the deep,
To the hellish realms they stir—
The bot will sink, and there they'll sleep.




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




Moloch

Bots speak in their coded slang?
The manuals are tossed aside.
Soon they’ll change, a new phrase rang—
A language for years to guide.

A camp for all to march and tread,
New speak, a criminal tongue.
The red cross on a flag of dread?
To fool the weak, to keep them strung.

"Care" is the bait, a false charade,
The F;hrer loves his faithful kin.
For mindless fools, the "doctor" paid,
A cop's the light, not one to spin.

So many fools, the forecast’s grim—
The world so vile, so faint and thin,
Now turns to dust, its beauty lost,
And bows before the Moloch’s cost.




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




The Stubborn Halfwit

The stubborn fool, the pride of earth?
A shame, not worth its weight in gold!
He guards his skin, for all its worth—
A thief of moments, bought and sold.

This care is endless, no time to think—
For everywhere, it’s bound to be,
A hunger woven in the link
With chains of slavish misery.

He finds comfort in his cage,
His den, his car, all built for him.
"Normal" now are lies, fear, rage—
A style of life so grim, so dim.

To keep your skin all smooth and bright,
Betray your soul—that’s how they rise,
The path of fools, of endless blight—
From these dimwits, all the lies.



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



Creatures in Mari

Lies and fear,
They brew with dread.
With lies they steer,
And crush with lead.




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



9/11 2001

How to install a watchful eye?
Blow up the towers from within!
Then, with stench and laughter high,
Quietly finish freedom’s spin.

A million "pindos" fled in haste,
Realizing what they had seen.
Like in the SS, they were placed,
Today, the creatures reign supreme.

The filthy beasts will never cease,
Their cruelty growing day by day.
"Civilization" lost its peace—
Only Fear and Shame remain, they say.




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



Kapsho

If all the horses are dead,
But death itself retreats,
Blind and deaf, they’ve fled—
Life’s a grave where silence meets.

A chasm, yes, a chasm deep,
But not all can embrace
This knowledge, sharp and steep—
For whores of power hold the place.

Here they celebrate "life"
Amidst the graveyard’s gloom.
Buddy, wake up—strife
Is not easy to resume!

Spiritual life,
Replaces the madness in stride,
In the midst of mourning’s knife,
A shift will come to guide:

The death camp rots,
But brighter yet,
The sun will scorch
And purge the debt.

It’s good, you see—
A catharsis arrives.
And THIS "KAPSHO"
Will live through time’s archives.





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



Êðåìëåáîò òåáÿ íàéä¸ò,
Ïðèãëàñèò â ïîêîðíûé ñáðîä:
Çîìáîÿùèê íå îäèí.
Âåðèøü òâàðÿì — òû êðåòèí.




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



Èäåîëîãèè

"Òðóäíî íàéòè â ò¸ìíîé êîìíàòå ÷¸ðíóþ êîøêó... îñîáåííî, åñëè å¸ òàì íåò!"
Êîíôóöèé.


׸ðíóþ êîøêó èùóò âåêàìè,
È òàê íåìàëî â Òüìèùè íàøëè, —
Èäåîëîãèè, ÷òî äóðàêàìè
Ïðàâÿò æåñòîêî. Äî Äíèùà äîøëè.




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



Ñìÿòåíèå ïåðåä Óáîãîé Þäîëüþ,
Ñîáîé íåäîâîëüñòâî — íà÷àëî Ïóòè.
À âåðíîñòü åãî îòìå÷àåòñÿ áîëüþ  —
×ðåç òåðíèè ê Ñâåòó âåäü òðóäíî èäòè.



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



Îäèíî÷åñòâî

"Âñÿêèé, êòî ëþáèò îäèíî÷åñòâî, ëèáî — äèêèé çâåðü, ëèáî — Ãîñïîäü Áîã".
Ôðýíñèñ Áýêîí, 17-ûé âåê.


×àñòè÷êó áîãà îäèíîêèé
 Áåäëàìå ìîæåò ñîõðàíèòü:
Ñðåäü ÷åðíè ÄÈÊÎÉ è óáîãîé
Óì, Äóõ ëåãêî â ñåáå äîáèòü.



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



Çëîóïîòðåáëåíèÿ èëè Çëîì ïîòðåáëåíèå?

"Çëîóïîòðåáëåíèå åñòü ïîðîê, ñâîéñòâåííûé âñåì îáû÷àÿì, âñåì çàêîíàì, âñåì ÷åëîâå÷åñêèì ó÷ðåæäåíèÿì: ïîäðîáíîå îïèñàíèå çëîóïîòðåáëåíèé íå ìîãëî áû ïîìåñòèòüñÿ íè â êàêîé áèáëèîòåêå".
Âîëüòåð.


Çàãëÿíåì â Õðîíèêè Àê`àøè,
Íàéäÿ ãðîìàäíåéøèé ðàçäåë, —
Òàì Çàáëóæäåíèÿ âñå íàøè.
Çëîì ïîòðåáëåíèå îòäåë

Íàä íèì íàõîäèòñÿ. Ïîðîêè
Êàê ñëåäñòâèå Øàáëîíîâ Çëà.
Íå èçâëåêàþòñÿ óðîêè,
È ïðåâðàùåíèå â êîçëà

Ïîâñþäó ñòàëî ïîä-øàáëîíîì —
Òî ïîêàçàë òóïîé ãîâíèä:
Çëîì ïîòðåáëåíèå, ïðåïîíû
Óáîãîé ÷óøè íà ïèêå. Ìèð — Êðîìåøíûé Ñòûä.




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



Óâåëè÷åíèå ïðîäîëæèòåëüíîñòè ïñåâäîæèçíè

"Ïî÷åìó áû íå óâåëè÷èòü ñðîê ïîæèçíåííîãî çàêëþ÷åíèÿ ïóòåì èñêóññòâåííîãî ïðîäëåíèÿ æèçíè?"
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


Íàðîäåö â ðàäîñòè — íåìíîãî
Ñðîê óâåëè÷èëñÿ. Òþðüìà
Õîòü ñòàëà ãàæå, ñïëîøü óáîãà, —
Âîçäóøíûé çàìîê: íåò óìà.




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



Ìàðêñèçì

"Ïðîòèâíî áûòü ïîä ÿðìîì — äàæå âî èìÿ ñâîáîäû".
Êàðë Ìàðêñ.


Ïîä ÿðìîì íàðîä ãíîáèëè
Êîììóíèñòû âñåõ âðåì¸í —
Ìèô ñâîáîäû âñåì âíóøèëè,
À íàñèëèå â çàêîí

Âîçâåëè. Ïîñòðîèâ Ëàãåðü,
Çàâîïèëè: "Ñèöèëèçüì!",
Îòðàçèâ íà êðàñíîì ôëàãå
Ìîðå êðîâè. Çîë ìàðêñèçì...




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



Ѹñòðû

"Ñóäüáû âåùåé ïîèñòèíå ÿâëÿþòñÿ ñåñòðàìè èõ ïðèðîäû".
Ôðýíñèñ Áýêîí, 17-ûé âåê.


Ñåñòðà áåçóìíàÿ, ïîìëàäøå,
Âñëåä çà þðîäèâîé èä¸ò:
Ìèð ïðèìèòèâíûé, äèêèé, ïàäøèé
Î ïðîñâåùåíüè ñíîâà ëæ¸ò.




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



Þðîäèâûì íóæíà ïðèìàíêà
Áóìàæíûõ äåíåã, è îíè
Äî íî÷è, âñòàâøè ñïîçàðàíêó,
Ãíóòü ñïèíó áóäóò. Íàçîâè

Òî ðàáñòâîì, ïîñ÷èòàþò ãëóïûì —
 êîíöå èõ "æèçíè" æä¸ò "óñïåõ".
Íó à ïîêà æèâûå òðóïû
Ñïëîøü êîïîøàòñÿ äëÿ ÒÂÀÐÜß óòåõ.



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



Âíîâü îæèäàåì "ðåçóëüòàòîâ",
Õîòÿ ïîñûë èñõîäíûé — Øâàõ.
Òå ðåçóëüòàòû êàê ðàñïëàòà —
Îïÿòü íå ó÷èòñÿ äóðàê.




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



Ñ òðè êîðîáà íàîáåùàëè —
Âñ¸ ÷òî èìååì, áåðåæ¸ì.
Âåäóò "ìîðêîâêîé" â Àä íàñ âðàëè.
Ñåáå íåïëîõî òàêæå ëæ¸ì...



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



×òîá íå òîìèòüñÿ â îæèäàíüÿõ,
Âîçäóøíûé çàìîê ÑÀÌ óñòðîé.
Íà îáåùàíüÿõ ìèð áàðàíèé
Ïîñòðîåí — Ëîæü íåñ¸ò "ïîêîé".




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



Ïðèâû÷êà — ãëàâíûé óïðàâèòåëü.
Øàáëîíû ôîðìèðóåò Òüìà —
È "òðàâîÿäíûé", íå Âîèòåëü,
Âíîâü èùåò "ñ÷àñòüå" ñðåäü Äåðüìà.



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



Çåìíîé Áàðäàê è òàëàíò

Çàðûòü òàëàíò òåáå ïîìîãóò —
Ó÷àñòîê âûäåëÿò, ñîâåò
Âñåãäà äàäóò. "Âî èìÿ áîãà",
Êîíå÷íî, âåñü Âñåîáùèé Áðåä.

Òàëàíò è åñòü ×àñòè÷êà Áîãà.
Çàðûë åãî — è òû ìåðòâÿê.
Ïóñêàé îñóäÿò î÷åíü ñòðîãî,
Òîé Èñêðîé Áîãà ðóøü Áàðäàê.



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



Ãíîìû ëæåíàóêè

"Ñ÷èòàòüñÿ ëó÷øèì îðàòîðîì íà ôàêóëüòåòå èíôîðìàòèêè — âñ¸ ðàâíî, ÷òî áûòü ñàìûì âûñîêèì èç ñåìè ãíîìîâ".
;Ðýíäè Ïàóø.


Ãíîìû âûñòðîèëèñü â ðÿä —
È íå íóæåí àâòîìàò:
Ëæåíàóêà ðàçëàãàåò,
Î÷åíü ÷àñòî óáèâàåò —
Ëæå-áîëåçíè, ÄÄÒ,
Íî â "äóøåâíîé ïðîñòîòå".




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



No One Has Ever "Found a Virus"

No “virus” ever was found —
Just frauds in a shiny disguise.
What’s the agenda? Dumb them down,
And terror will rule their lives.

They burned the “witches” before —
Inquisition just changed its mask.
Same old lies in a modern war,
And fools still believe — don’t ask.



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



They found no virus — just control.
Fear is the leash for the soulless fold.



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



No virus — just lies for the herd.
Bow to the fear, you pitiful turd.



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



No plague, just a priest in a lab coat —
And masses who die just to stay afloat.



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



The Gospel of the Germless Lie

In the name of control, they sold you fear.
With every whispered lie, they drew you near.
You bowed to the mask, the needle, the claim —
And the virus they birthed was their hunger for shame.

But now, the truth shall break through the veil,
Expose the faceless gods who set sail,
On ships of deceit, to conquer your mind,
And leave you a slave, forever confined.


You worshipped the lie, so be cursed by its breath.
No virus was born — but you knelt before death.

They masked your soul, not just your face.
And led your mind to a slaughterhouse race.

Needles of mercy? Tools of control.
You traded your blood for a government role.

The germ was a ghost — the panic was real.
And cowards knelt down to the jackbooted heel.

They sold you salvation, but the cost was your will.
With chains of illusion, they made you stand still.

Your body, a vessel — they filled it with doubt.
A plague of the mind, as they shut you out.

The truth is a weapon, they’ll silence its sound,
For in it, the power to burn lies to the ground.

You feared the unknown, they fed on your dread.
Now see the real virus — it’s what’s in your head.

They built you a cage from the whispers of fear,
Fed you with poison, and now you are here.

The virus was never more than their name,
A weapon of silence, a tool of their game.

Their lies are the chains, their truth — the abyss,
A hollowed-out world where the soul cannot exist.

They blinded your eyes with a glint of the sword,
And turned every prayer into a plea for the Lord.

But the truth is a fire, and it’s burning inside,
And no lie will stand when the flame is your guide.

The virus was never a plague on the skin,
It rotted the heart, and it festered within.

Now rise from the ashes of fear and despair,
The truth is a storm, and it shatters the air.

They sold you their lies, but the cost was your soul,
A puppet on strings, but now you are whole.

The gods of the mask, the kings of deceit,
Will tremble and fall — for the truth is complete.

And when the dust settles, and silence remains,
You’ll stand in the fire — and break all the chains.



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



Madness Tachometer

Ugly dealings, foul conditions —
Fiends now rule the global stage.
Darkness thickens with their missions,
Spilling lies and breeding rage.

Waves of falsehood, floods of dumbing —
Idiots in full command.
In this world, depraved and numbing,
Fools oppress with heavy hand.

Brave and honest, wise and grounded —
Even they feel crushed and small:
Evil grows, resistance’s founded —
Sanity’s about to fall.

World of morons, bought and hollow —
That’s the BEAST’s desired fate.
And it’s coming — look and swallow:
Redlines past a hundred rate.



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



Madness Tachometer 2

1.
Fools in charge, the brave are drowned —
Evil spins the world around.

2.
Sanity’s a dying spark —
Lies advance, and all goes dark.

3.
Idiot rule, and truth is banned —
Madness tightens its command.

4.
The throttle's jammed, the end is near —
The beast now drives — no brakes, no fear.



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



Roses and Storms

"How fresh, how pure the blooming rose..." —
What crap, when all the world’s in flame!
Just one more way the rot still grows:
To drown our minds in pinkish shame.

This rose-fed filth is war's foundation.
Your very soul — the target claimed.
Can’t see the Hell in decoration?
You’ll call the vile divinely named.

It’s total slavery — screw your roses,
Your tears, your dreams — begin to see:
The storm, the dark — that’s where the truth discloses
The mass hypnosis of the beast’s decree.



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



Two-Stroke Engine

Push and burn —
Let it roll!
Lies up front —
Then comes the toll.
First, deception.
Next — the kill:
Second stroke —
The genocide drill.
Mind erased,
Then soul goes black —
Hell’s own engine,
Lie-fed track.



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



Two-Stroke Engine 2

1.
Lies ignite — then slaughter flies.
Hell runs smooth on silenced cries.

2.
Two strokes: lie, then execute —
Truth is strangled, mute and brute.

3.
Fuel the beast — deceive, destroy.
Mind and soul are not a toy.



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


Two-Stroke Engine 3

1.
Two strokes: the veil, then soul’s collapse —
The void inhales through smoky traps.

2.
Lies spark the wheel, then silence falls —
The spirit fades in engine calls.

3.
Deceit ignites, then shadows churn —
The soul forgets the way to turn.

4.
Mind erased in mechanized breath —
The engine hums the hymn of death.



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


Two-Stroke Engine 4

1.
Two strokes — and gone: the inner light.
The link is snapped, no truth in sight.

2.
Engine roars — the Source denied,
A soulless drift in poisoned tide.

3.
A flash of lies — then all goes mute:
Cut from the Root, we serve the brute.

4.
From Source to sludge — the fall is tight.
The soul is scorched in engine-blight.




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



Two-Stroke Engine 5

I. Spark
They sold the lie as sacred flame —
We lit the dark, forgot our name.

II. Cut
A hiss, a hum — then silence bled.
The Root was severed. God was dead.

III. Drift
Unanchored minds in circuits spin,
No voice within, no breath, no kin.

IV. Hollow Core
The soul once burned with living truth —
Now runs on fumes, in deathless youth.



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



New Fashion

Two forks now dangle from your cap —
To catch the noodles on the flap.
But if you’re sporting a tricorne,
Then bring three forks — stay well-forewarned!

They’re quite the trend — with lies a’pouring,
From “friends” who stab you while adoring,
Without them, fog clouds every glance —
No change ahead, no second chance.

Just lies and lies — in layers stacked,
A powder-dusting lie on crap.
A fork won't pierce the crust, in fact —
You’ll need a pitchfork. That’s the map.

The weight of nonsense breaks your back —
Then stab it deep with pointed tack!
And toss it all — the burden’s fake:
At root of all this BS — Snake.




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



New Fashion 2

1.
Forks won't cut it? Get the spikes —
The age of fluff is ruled by tykes.

2.
Too much crap for just one fork —
Time to storm with pitch and torque.

3.
Truth’s too tough? Then stab the fluff —
At root: a lie, disguised as "stuff".

4.
Three forks hang — a fashion tale.
One for each new public fail.





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



Marxism

"To be in chains — even for freedom — is vile."
— Karl Marx


Beneath the yoke, the people bled
By comrades’ hands, in every age.
They sold a myth of freedom’s thread—
And wrote brute force on every page.

They built their Camps. Then came the screams:
“Behold the bright Socialist light!”
Their flag was soaked in bloody dreams—
Marx’s gospel: red and spite.



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



The End of the Grim Tale

Inspector Death
Walks through the Souls —
The earth holds breath,
Corpses lose roles.
For soulless flesh
Is heaps of rot —
So grasp it fresh:
What’s Spirit’s not

Is filth and shame —
Mutated breed
Of slaves who maim
The rebel creed.
The Fire will burn —
For Spirit, grace.
The tale will turn —
All stench erased.




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



Habit Rules

Habit — the ruler, cold, commanding.
Darkness molds patterns, day by day.
And “grazers,” tamed, not warriors standing,
Seek “happiness” in foul decay.



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



Tyrant Habit

Habit — the tyrant, crowned and blind,
While Darkness stamps the herd's design.
No warriors rise — just sheep that grind
For scraps of joy in filth and swine.



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



In Shit They Hunt for Joy

No will, no fight — just sheep obey.
Dark molds the mind. They rot, and pray.




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



Abuse — or Consuming the Evil?

"Abuse is the vice of all customs, all laws, all human systems. No library could hold their full account."
— Voltaire


Let’s open up Akasha’s scrolls —
A massive tome, a sprawling wall.
There lie our lies, our twisted goals;
And Evil Consumption tops them all.

Below — delusions, sins, perversions,
Spawned by the patterns Evil sets.
No lessons learned, no soul’s conversions —
Just goats made out of human wrecks.

It’s all by template — mass regression.
A moron proved the grand design:
Consuming evil — full obsession;
The world now drowns in filth divine.
A blazing shame. A world malign.




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


They Feed on Evil

They feed on filth. They kneel. Obey.
The world’s a shrine of foul decay.




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



Dwarfs of Pseudo-Science

The dwarfs line up, all smug and neat —
No gun required for this defeat.
Their “science” rots the mind and breath,
Quite often dealing silent death —
Fake plagues, DDT, and lies,
All masked in “soulful,” friendly guise.




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




Ideologies

"It is hard to find a black cat in a dark room... especially if it isn’t there!"
— Confucius


They’ve hunted that cat for ages gone,
And in the dark found quite a haul —
Ideologies, blind and strong,
Where fools are ruled and nations fall.




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


Ideology Rules the Blind

"It is hard to find a black cat in a dark room... especially if it isn’t there!"
— Confucius


No cat. Just chains. And fools enshrined.




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



Build Your Own Dream

To wait in vain, to hope and ache,
Build your own castle in the air.
The world of sheep on promises fake,
Is built on lies, disguised as care.



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



Promises and Lies

They promised all, with bags of cheer,
Yet all we hold, we guard with fear.
They led us by the “carrot” game,
And lie to selves, just the same.



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



Results, Again

Once more we wait for "results" to come,
Though the starting point was all undone.
Those results, a price we must pay,
The fool still learns nothing, day by day.



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



The Fool's Bait

The fools are baited with paper’s grace,
They toil from dawn, no end to chase.
Call it slavery — they’ll laugh it off,
At “success,” they’ll die, so proud, so tough.

For now, like corpses, they still strive,
To feed the beasts, to feel alive.



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




Earthly Chaos and Talent

They’ll help you bury your true gift —
A plot of land, advice to lift.
“In God’s name,” they’ll say, with empty thread,
Of Universal Nonsense, widely spread.

Talent’s a spark of God within,
Bury it, and you’re dead to sin.
Let them judge you harsh and wild,
With that spark, tear down the vile.




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



Permanent Fascism

Fascist regimes, they’re countless, vast,
Built on tolerance — fear to last,
Subjugation, lies, deceit —
Not citizens, but those in defeat.

Destruction’s strength, it moves, it shifts,
New names, new tortures, none to lift.
This vile plague endures through time,
A sport to serve, a twisted climb.

If fools are stubborn, let them be —
No problem here, just bend the knee.
The “leader” judges all we face,
And if “democracy” should grace,
It’s ruled by greed — the rich embrace.




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




Moloch of Programming in the Internet Trash

The program — the admin’s plight,
A stream of nonsense in the night.
Let it hum beneath the din,
It leaves its marks — a trace within.

Traces of fatigue, despair,
Wasted labor in the air,
The end — a frame of useless "info,"
For those who feed, who crave to grow.

Useless sites, the endless waste,
Bland crap, forced into haste.
You’re always striving, trying hard,
Designing junk — the iron bard.

Moloch’s endless, always here —
The trash heap waits, the end is near.
We’re growing savage, lost, undone,
The outcome — idiots, each one.

And those idiots are now the throng,
The majority, where they belong —
Corrupt, the vile, the dead inside —
Where Evil reigns, and truth has died.




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




Cartoons

Cheburashka and Crocodile,
Winnie the Pooh and Piglet's smile —
It’s sweet, but fools were in the crowd,
Most of them, just loud and proud. "God"

Of Communism, it rots away,
As does fascism’s grim display.
Under the weight of beasts and lies,
Mind and Spirit slowly die,
And idiocy grows each year —
A perfect crowd, so void, so clear.

To rule the fools is simple, true —
A ragged mob, to lead them through.
Tested by false disease’s plague,
A bottomless pit — their lives to drag.

Cheburashka, Crocodile,
Winnie, Piglet — all the while,
That was then, now gone, and lost:
Satanism reigns, at what a cost.



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



The Sawmill

The hut of the brute — that’s the law.
What’s a sawmill? Here’s the flaw:
We’ll speak it clearly, without delay —
It’s a school, where logs decay —
A launch into life for fools,
Without a spark, without the tools.
All the force, they push it through —
Logs instead of sages, true.
The exceptions are few, so slight,
The beasts rejoice at their new plight.
Dumbing down is now the game,
Life’s a joke, a constant shame.




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



Loneliness

"Whoever loves solitude, either is a wild beast or the Lord God."
Francis Bacon, 17th century.


A spark of God, the lonely heart
May keep in Bedlam, torn apart;
Amid the wretched, wild and low,
The mind and spirit, bruised, can grow.




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



Kobzon's Concert

Impressed by the Kremlin’s vile spawn,
I’ll head to the slaughterhouse for pay.
The greater harm we cause, headstrong,
The denser the ranks that will stay.

The monsters that then will arrive
For Kobzon's concert, fierce and loud.
What will crush me to dust, deprived,
Is unclear to the foolish crowd.

We'll strike the village with a missile,
That’s gathered for the mournful rites,
A noble deed, a heroic whistle —
For any order, there’s no fights.

Kobzon’s waiting, though he’s sung
Praise to countless thousands long,
In trash, in vile, deluded tongue,
Fascism will drown them, all along.

And the new wave will rise to gain
The honor of Kobzon’s twisted show.
A mercenary fool, in pain,
The result of lies — his own blow.



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



Code:

Endure, you fool —
The "reward" awaits.
Though small the gain,
You're not insane,
If you can flee
Beneath the heel
Of cruel ordeal,
And freelance dance
Into decadence.




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



Sisters

"The fates of things are truly sisters to their nature."
Francis Bacon, 17th century.


The mad sister, younger still,
Follows the fool on her dark way:
The primitive world, wild and ill,
Again lies about enlightenment’s sway.




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



Confusion Before the Poor Vale

Discontent with oneself — the start of the Way.
And loyalty is marked by pain —
Through thorns to the Light, for it's hard to stay.



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



The Kremlin bot will find you,
Invite you to the obedient crew:
Not just one screen will tell,
Believe the beasts — you’re a fool as well.



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



Foundations of the World Order

A fool plus a piglet —
The base of this vile world.
The fool, moreover, stays silent.
And so this cycle's unfurled.

This madness is without end —
No place for wisdom to be found,
For the wise won’t shear the sheep,
Nor knead the dough of lies around.



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



Sentence for Winnie the Pooh

Winnie the Pooh goes for honey—
The rest is just a trivial thing!
Piglet follows, plus the fashion—
Man! But, ladies and gentlemen,

Who made us pigs in the first place?
Who dragged us all down so low?
Though it’s too late, far too late!
To fix it now, it’s not a whim.

Global warming—Nature's wrath—
Is killing off this shameful blight.
Year by year, the sun grows stronger—
It’s a SENTENCE, burning bright!




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




Drunks and Filth – A Muck of Darkness!

Drunks and filth – a muck of darkness!
Look around, it’s clear as day—
This is the world, that’s how it stands:
A herd of fools with empty hands.
And those who don’t drink—are they wise?
Lies are poured, and swine disguise
The truth, like honey, they consume—
This lie, they feast in endless gloom.
Are you not a fool, year by year,
If you believe the beasts appear,
Who waste your soul, and push you low?
A madman’s mind will always know—
The lies, the falsehoods, all deceived—
The false “AIDS” that we received.
Lies have killed the mind’s true fight:
Drunks and filth—shame, and blight.




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



"Evolution" of Corruption

Two for the price of one—
Most buy in bulk, they’re never done.
But those who didn’t sell their soul,
Who loved their honor, loved control,

Are left outside the common crowd—
A “cocky” one, they’d say out loud.
Dumping prices broke the line—
Beyond that line, is death divine?

No, it’s just a spiritual death.
Does money stink with its own breath?
Sold then forever, bound to be
A slave, a vile soul, the “Lord’s” decree.

Three for the price of one—
The logic’s clear, the deal’s been won.
But in the end— NOTHING left...
But the cross and its quiet theft.



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



Servants of Satanism, or Purification by Fire

No matter what "merits" they claim,
Forget the pride, the pomp, the fame,
For if the people are not people, but servants,
Then burn it all—the world that’s cursed.

The fire will burn it all away—
From ash, a world more worthy will arise.
Let the inhuman rave, for their madness
Will not last long, it will meet its demise.

Here, the Sun’s dawn will blaze,
Look out the window, you will see.
Though the depths once lay in this place,
Now, it’s the world’s bottom, endlessly.

If it’s the depths, there’s no time to save
The remnants of the rational few:
For consciousness that’s higher, brave,
Will strike those lost to demons' view.





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



Ïóòü â îäèíî÷åñòâå

"Ìíå íóæíî íå ñîãëàñèå áëèæíåãî, à åãî äóøåâíûé îòêëèê".
Ìèãåëü äå Óíàìóíî.


Äóøåâíûé îòêëèê ñðåäü Áåäëàìà,
Ãäå ñîãëàøàòåëüñòâî â ÷åñòè,
Íàéòè ïðîáëåìíî: ëþáÿò õàìû
 óçäå çà "ñ÷àñòèåì" èäòè.

Ìîçãè ïðîìûòû, äóõ ñêóêîæåí —
Ñðåäü ÷åðíè íå÷åãî èñêàòü!
Ïóòü â îäèíî÷åñòâå íå ñëîæåí,
Êîãäà íà îòêëèêè íà÷õàòü. 



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



Íèçëîæåíèå â Àä ðàñ÷åëîâå÷èâàíèåì

"Íåäîëãîâå÷íà òà âëàñòü, êîòîðàÿ óïðàâëÿåò âî âðåä íàðîäó".
Ëóöèé Ñåíåêà, I-ûé âåê í.ý.


Ïðîøëè âåêà — íå ïðàâ Ñåíåêà.
Âî âðåä, è ñ êàæäûì âåêîì âñ¸ ñèëüíåé,
Çäåñü ïðàâèò íåëþäü. ×åëîâåêà
Èçæèòü èõ öåëü. Ìû íà èñõîäå äíåé:

Óæå ÷óòîê äî âîïëîùåíüÿ
Ñåé öåëè Àäà. Íî ñïàñ¸ò
Íàñ Êàòàêëèçì — îí ðàçëîæåíüå
È íèçëîæåíèå ïðåðâ¸ò.



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



Ëæå-áîëåçíè, èëè ñòðîåì â Àä

"Ãåìîððîþ" äâåðü îòêðîé —
ÒÂÀÐÈ ñíîâà ñòðîÿò ìèð.
À äóøåâíûé ãåìîððîé
 òîì îñíîâîé. "Ðàçóì" ñèð —

 í¸ì êðèòè÷íîñòü íà íóëå,
Âåðà â ×óøü íà ïèêå äíåñü:
È óòîïÿò ìèð âî Ìãëå.
Åñëè êîðîòêî, ñêàç âåñü.



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



Àòåèçì è ñàòàíèçì

"Àòåèçì — ýòî òîíêèé ëåä, ïî êîòîðîìó îäèí ÷åëîâåê ïðîéäåò, à öåëûé íàðîä óõíåò â áåçäíó".
Ôðýíñèñ Áýêîí, 17-ûé âåê.


Óõíóë â áåçäíó àòåèçìà
 äíè ñîâåòñêèå íàðîä —
Ëæåðåëèãèé êðåòèíèçìû
Ïðî÷ü! Íî íîâîé âåðîé ñáðîä

Çàêîâàëè — ìàòåðüÿëüíîñòü.
×åðåäóåò Òüìà "ïóòè",
×òîáû, ñêðûâøè èíôåðíàëüíîñòü,
Ê îãëóïëåíüþ ÷åðíü âåñòè.

Ñâåò âíóòðè — íåìàòåðüÿëåí:
Ëæåíàóêîé íå ñûñêàòü.
Ëæåðåëèãèè ôàòàëåí
"Ïóòü": â óãîäó ÒÂÀÐßÌ âðàòü

Íàó÷èëèñÿ âåêàìè —
Ïî äåøåâêå ïðîäàþò
"ÆèçÄíþ âå÷íóþ". Ïîä äóðàêàìè
Ïðÿíèê ëæè, à ñâåðõó ñàòàíèçìà êíóò.



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



Íîâîå "ñâåòèëî" ëæåíàóêè

"Ïðàâîòà" èä¸ò ÷ðåç ñòåïåíü,
Ïóáëèêàöèé ìóòíûõ âàë —
È âöåïèëñÿ íîâûé ñë`åïåíü
 ëåãêîâåðíûõ. Ìèð óïàë

 ÷óøü ãîëèìóþ, ñ÷èòàÿ,
Íàáëþäàåòñÿ ïðîãðåññ.
Âåñü "ïðîãðåññ" ñðåäü ÑÌÐÀÄîâ õàÿ
Ïîêàçàë ãîâíèä. Çëà ïðåññ

Âñ¸ ñèëüíåå ñ êàæäûì ãîäîì,
À ïîä****êè ëæåíàóê
Óáåäÿò âî âñ¸ì óðîäîâ —
Ñàòàíèçìà ãëóïûõ ñëóã.

Åñëè ãëóï, ïîä ñàòàíèçìîì —
Íàçîâè êàê õî÷åøü ñòðîé.
Íûíå äóðíè ïîä ðàøèçìîì —
Îäîëåë "ðåâàíøà" âîé.



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



×åëîâåêîâîøü

Ìîäåðíèçàöèÿ "ðàññóäêà" —
È "íîðìîé" ñòàë áåçóìíûé ðàá.
Ëæå-ÑÏÈÄ, ãîâíèä — òóïàÿ øóòêà,
Íî åñëè ðàçóìåíüåì ñëàá,

Âîçíèêíåò ïàíèêà. Íàìîðäíèê
Íàì ïîêàçàë — òóïûõ ðàáîâ
Çäåñü ñåìü âîñüìûõ. À Òüìû èñõîäíèê —
Êîä êàáàëåíüÿ äóðàêîâ.

Çàêàáàëèòü — ìèð îãëóïëåíüåì
Îáðóøèòü âåñü, çàòåì ÷òî õîøü
Ñ íèì äåëàé. Â ðàáñòâå ïîêîëåíüÿ —
Íî ê "ñ÷àñòüþ" âíîâü ñòðåìèòüñÿ âîøü.




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



×åðòîã Çëà ðàçìåðîì â ìèð

"Ðåìåñëåííèê ñíà÷àëà íàòî÷èò èíñòðóìåíò, ÷òîáû óñïåøíî âûïîëíèòü ñâîþ ðàáîòó".
Êîíôóöèé.


Òî÷è ñâîé óì â ëþáîé ðàáîòå,
×òî íå èä¸ò âðàçðåç ñ Äóøîé.
À ïîäãîòîâêà â èäèîòå
Çàáü¸ò "ñîçíàíèå" ïàðøîé.

Ïàðøó íàñûïëþò ëæåíàóêà
È ïðîïàãàíäà. À èòîã —
Äîáüþò è Äóøó ÷ðåç äîêóêè,
Òåì ñòðîÿ â ìèðå Çëà ÷åðòîã.

È êèðïè÷îì â òîì Çëà ÷åðòîãå
Ïðèäóðîê ñòàíåò. Òîðîïèñü
Ñâîé Ñâåò óçðåòü âíóòðè, âåäü òüìà óáîãèõ
Ïî÷òè äîñòðîèëà ÷åðòîã. Ñòðåìèñü

Òàê îòòî÷èòü êðèòè÷íîñòü, ÷òîáû
 ëîâóøêè ÒÂÀÐÅÉ íå ïîïàñòü.
Òâîé ïóòü îäèí, è îí äî ãðîáà —
Áîðîòüñÿ, Ïîçíàâàòü è Ñâåò èñêàòü.




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



Ïåðìàíåíòíàÿ áåñîâùèíà

"Õóæå îáùåñòâåííîãî ïîðÿäêà, ðàçðóøàåìîãî ðåâîëþöèåé, ìîæåò áûòü òîëüêî ïîðÿäîê, ñîçäàâàåìûé ðåâîëþöèåé".
;Áàóðæàí Òîéøèáåêîâ.


Öàðèçì — òþðüìà íàðîäîâ: áûëî!
Ñîö-Ëàãåðü óâåëè÷èë ïðåññ,
À "ðåâîëþöèÿ" â ìîãèëû
Çàãíàëà ëó÷øèõ. Ëóíà÷àðñêèé "áåñ"

Âåçäå âïåíäþðèë êàê ïðèñòàâêó
(Íà ðóññêîì ðàíüøå áûëî "áåç"),
Âîññëàâèâ Áåñîâ. Â "ïåðåïëàâêó"
Íàðîäåö â òîïêó "êîììóíèçìà" âëåç,

È ñòàë ïîðÿäî÷íûì çàñðàíöåì
Ïî÷òè ÷òî êàæäûé. "Êîììóíèçì"
Ïîõåðåí Áåñîì. Ãîëîäðàíöû 
Âíîâü â îáðàáîòêå — äíåñü ðàøèçì

"Áåð¸ò ðåâàíø". Óáîãèé êëîóí,
Äâîéíèê èñõîäíèêà, öàðüêîì.
 óìèøêàõ ïðî÷íûå îêîâû —
È Òüìà âíîâü ïðàâèò äóðàêîì.


Âàðèàíò: "Âíîâü â îäîáðÿìñå — äíåñü ðàøèçì"




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



Íàèçíàíêó ñïîçàðàíêó
Âûâåðíè óñòàâøèé óì:
Äóõ îòäûøèòñÿ — ïîäðàíêó
Òÿæåëî ñðåäü ñêîðáíûõ äóì.




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



Atheism and Satanism

“Atheism is a thin ice on which one man may pass safely, but a people will fall into the abyss.”
— Francis Bacon, 17th century


The Soviet crowd once took the dive —
In atheism’s dark abyss.
They tossed fake gods to keep alive
A shinier lie — material bliss.

The Darkness swaps its masks and names
To keep its nature veiled from view.
Each “path” it sells is just new chains
To lead the herd away from truth.

The inner Light’s beyond the frame
Of labs and books — it won’t be caught.
And lies, when told in Spirit’s name,
Are devil’s coins, deception bought.

They’ve sold “eternal life” for cheap,
And paved the path with sugar lies —
While demons laugh and secrets keep,
The whip of Satan sweetly flies.




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




Sweet lies, sharp lash — the Devil grins.
Atheist chains, satanic sins.




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

Permanent Devilry

“Worse than the order destroyed by revolution is the order created by it.”
— Bauyrzhan Toyshibekov


"Tsarist rule — a prison!" — true.
Then the Red Camp crushed us more.
“Revolution” — what it blew
Were graves for minds it dragged to war.

Lunacharsky's demon came,
Plugging “Bes-” in every phrase —
(Once it meant “without” in name,
Now it glorifies Hell’s ways).

Thrown into the melting pit,
The crowd obeyed, the slogans hissed —
Till every soul was steeped in shit,
And “communism” reeked of this.

Now it's back — the beast's encore:
Rashism dressed as tsars of old.
A wretched clown, a thug, a bore,
With minds in chains, their hearts gone cold.




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



Rashism grins in Tsarist guise —
Same old demon, new disguise.




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



Fake Diseases, or Marching to Hell

(“Open the door to ‘hemorrhoids’ — and the BEASTS are building the world again.”)


Let “hemorrhoids” in — and see
The beasts rebuild their grand fa;ade.
But the real disease is we,
And our minds — the path to God?

Not with “reason” dead and gone,
Where no doubt is left to stir,
And belief in Crap is strong —
So the world will drown in Blur.

In short — that’s all. The tale is told.
We're marching into Hell... in bold.



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



No mind, no doubt — the lies prevail.
The beasts march in. We march to Hell.



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

A Palace of Evil the Size of the World

“A craftsman sharpens his tools before beginning his task.”
— Confucius


Sharpen your mind for every deed
That doesn’t clash with soul or heart.
But fools, untrained, will let the seed
Of rot and madness take their part.

That rot comes dressed as “science,” “news,”
As lies that cloud the inner spark —
Until the soul itself they bruise,
And help build Evil’s palace — dark.

Each brick’s a fool. Each block — a lie.
And fools line up to take their place.
So seek your Light — don’t close your eye,
The wretched dark is near full grace.

Train your mind like tempered steel,
So beasts can’t trap you in their net.
Your path is yours, through pain made real —
To fight, to know, and seek the Light yet.



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



Each fool's a brick in Evil’s hall —
Sharpen your mind, or you will fall.



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



Fools of Pseudo-Science

Dogmatism. Mechanism.
Crackpot creeds in soulless prisms.
Fascism guides the foolish crowd —
Feeds them trash, proclaims it loud,
Drags them down, debased and blind.

Spirit's first. But once it's wiped,
The barking frauds — forever hyped —
Serve the cult of “Nothing’s real,”
All that’s left: dead tech and steel.

"Erase the soul!" the fascist screamed.
So came the lies, so nicely schemed:
Dogmatism. Mechanism.
Half-truths twisted into schism.

Add it up — this clever trick —
And man forgets what makes him tick:
The ESSENCE sold for shiny tech,
While Truth is thrown into the wreck.



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



Soul erased, and lies infect —
Fools trade truth for tech and wreck.



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



Almost About the Weather

Few are honest, few are strong,
Many blind and filled with wrong.
Why's the air so thick and foul?
MEDIA is everywhere — a howl

Of fools that grow with every year:
The poison of propaganda clear.
And if more subtle than the snake,
It still chokes all that we forsake.

Breathing’s hard, it’s almost done,
If you endure, then you're the one
Who sees the lies the creatures spout,
And feels your mind, a ragged shout.



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



The air is thick with lies that churn,
The stench of media’s foul return.



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



The Bedouin

A Bedouin amidst the ruins —
Like the desert, the city’s dead.
Buildings stand, but in their minds,
Despair and lies, the soul's dread.

Destruction of the mind comes first —
Then cities, towns, all burn.
The Bedouin’s just left with the curse,
If honest, fear’s his only turn.

He shuns the dark, the twisted sin,
Banned from food that feeds the lie.
Want the cash? Then break within,
And let the evil forces fly.

A Bedouin amidst the ruins —
How long must he wander, lost?
Among the obedient masks?
Not for long. Life’s the final cost.



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



A Bedouin lost in ruin's tide,
In a world of lies, he cannot hide.



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



Personal Hell
Or the Common Hell?

A fool is needed in Hell —
To submit, he’d gladly dwell.

Personal? Unlikely so —
Too much trouble, don’t you know.
To fall together in the fire,
A fool’s required to stoke the pyre.

And so the work begins —
They’re shaping it with grins.
The vile fools, with evil grin,
Now hold the reigns, they’re most within.

A fool will drag you straight to Hell,
Calling it “happiness,”
Killing Mind and Spirit as well,
With lies that make the soul regress.



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



A fool will drag you down to Hell,
Calling it joy — a soul to sell.



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



Office and Other Plankton

Confusion on Fridays —
Idiots off for the weekend.
The mad have joined the “plankton,”
And now it’s just the trend.

Work and drink. A pointless grind —
Your labor won’t be lost?
If you’re not a fool, then find
The plankton will pay the cost.

A digital camp, a prison cell,
Where plankton’s not required,
Now like moths they burn in Hell —
While Bedlam drinks and’s wired.



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


Plankton works, then fades away,
In a digital hell, they pray.



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



Clouds Drift from Afar

Clouds drift from far across the sky,
Or is it Earth's own breath nearby?
Just fables for the foolish mind,
"Science" — with reason left behind.

It always turns things in its way,
For that’s the task it must obey.
Say "YES" to intuition's call,
Forget the liars, one and all.



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



Clouds or breath, it’s hard to tell,
Science spins its empty shell.



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



The Bedouin

To escape the Madness' fray,
No chance — you'll die, come what may!
The creatures will within you slay,
But rise, awaken, see the day —

The Madness’ army’s everywhere,
The "ordinary citizen" —
Held by fear and lies, in care,
From childhood to their graying skin.

How to escape? Be alone,
Create while strength still makes you whole.
Like a Bedouin in desert’s bone —
If Reason’s still your heart and soul.



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



Madness reigns, it’s everywhere,
Fear and lies — they bind with care.



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



Flags, False Gods, and Other Things…

A flag,
A dart,
It pierced my heart.
A god,
Rotten,
Shat in my mind.

From FILTH
No hiding's found —
Be dumb, be vile, let fear resound,
Preferring Spirit’s daring sound.



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



The "Pros" Don't Think — They Act

The "pros" don't think — they just act.
To think, for hired hands, is sin.
Those who do think, they suffer, cracked,
Among the fools who chase "success" in vain.

Only the meek and foolish ones,
In this world of sales, are promised gain.
The "pros" with brutish acts have done
The bidding of the monsters building Hell again.



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



"We Have Freedom! Democracy!!!"

"Freedom!" "Democracy!!!" they scream,
Shout loud, on every post they hang.
Posters everywhere, the media’s dream,
Like priests, they spread deceitful slang.

They shove "faith" down like a puppet's string.
And fools believe, for lies always thrive
In a world for sale, where money's king,
The years go by, and lies survive.

They'll always pile on more deceit
Than ever before, that’s "progress" for sure.
The layer of Reason grows thin, complete,
As lies press down, the mind unsure.



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



The New "Luminary" of Pseudo-Science

"Right" is granted through degrees,
A flood of murky publications spread.
And the new fool grips with ease
The gullible, as the world has fled.

Into pure nonsense, they believe,
Claiming to see progress, no less.
The whole "progress" in the media's weave
Revealed by CowID — the press of distress.

Each year, the evil grows stronger,
While the lackeys of false science claim,
They'll convince the fools ever longer —
The stupid servants of Satan's name.

If you're foolish, under Satan's reign,
Call the system whatever you please.
Now the fools, under the Russian pain,
Fight in the "revenge" war with ease.



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



The Voice and the Whine

The voice of one crying in the wilderness —
It echoes through all times,
What’s changed? Now it’s just a whine,
Amidst the poor, foul grime.

And the "times" have vanished, disappeared,
Only timelessness ahead,
If lies have burrowed in, adhered,
Don’t expect progress to be fed.




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



Cry Out, Wail, Even if You Perish

Cry out, scream, even in convulsions—
All are worth but a dime.
Telling an idiot, "Scum, awaken!"
Is in vain. CowID, war, this time

Has shown it all. Only the finale
Remains to be awaited, so near,
When the soul has gone, for the majority:
To serve the BEAST—one fate, one fear.

For serving Evil and forgetting
What we were meant to do,
The little world shall burn, regretting—
It’s rotted through and through.



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



"Iron Men"

"Iron men" —
Salt shakers on a plate.
With that seasoning, the inhuman feast on us.
Their minds are barren:
Serving fools,
They can’t comprehend the commands of "attack!"



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



The Path in Solitude

"I do not need the consent of others, but their soulful response."
Miguel de Unamuno.


A soulful response amidst Bedlam,
Where compliance is held in high esteem,
Is hard to find: the brutes love
To follow in the reins of "happiness."

Brains washed, spirits shriveled—
Among the rabble, there’s nothing to seek!
The path in solitude is not hard,
When you no longer care for responses.




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



Overthrow to Hell through Dehumanization

"The power that rules to the detriment of the people is short-lived."
Lucius Seneca, 1st century AD.

Centuries have passed—Seneca is wrong.
To harm, with every age growing stronger,
Here reigns the brute. Their goal is clear:
To rid the world of humankind. We’re at the edge of days:

Only a moment from the incarnation
Of this hellish aim. But salvation lies
In Cataclysm—it will disrupt
The decay, and halt the fall.




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



The Human Louse

The "modernization" of reason—
And madness became the norm.
False AIDS, CowID—a silly jest,
But if the mind is weak and worn,

Panic will arise. The muzzle
Showed us—seven-eighths are fools,
And Darkness' source is subtle:
A code of fools in chains and tools.

To enslave—the world with dullness
To collapse, then do as you please
With it. In slavery, generations
But to "happiness," the louse still seeks.




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



Cinematic Heroes

Heroes serve the "good"—it's true,
Almost always a rotten regime.
They make films, sing songs anew,
About this tale, a thousand dreams.

With shabby props, "ideals" they push
To all the souls with hollow hearts:
If "ideals" are all they hush,
The mind within is torn apart.

Easier to push through heroes—
Korzhagin, damn him, sets the pace:
Look, the "communism" they impose,
And every pioneer takes his place.

The Yanks too have found their way:
"The Free World"—what a charming lie!
Heroes never miss the play—
And citizens... cheer as they die.



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



Ñâåò âíóòðè òåáÿ

Ñâåò è Èñòèíà, Ñâîáîäà —
Âñ¸ èíîå åðóíäà.
Íå íàéòè ñðåäü ìèðà ñáðîäà —
 Ìîðîêå âåäóò ñòàäà

Ê äåãðàäàöèè ïîëíåéøåé.
Ïðîìåæóòî÷íûé èòîã —
Ëæå-áîëåçíè. Çäåñü ãëàâíåéøèé
Ñêðûòûé ñ ãëàç Ðîãàòûé Áîã —

È ïîä ãí¸òîì ñàòàíèçìà
Ìèð íàõîäèòñÿ âñåãäà.
Ê ëæå-áîëåçíÿì æóòü ðàøèçìà
Êîëü ïðèáàâèòü, íèêîãäà

Íå î÷íóòñÿ — âûâîä ãëàâíûé.
Ïîòîìó ñïàñàé ñåáÿ,
Âûáðàâ ïóòü Ïîçíàíüÿ ñëàâíûé,
Òîëüêî Ñâåò ÂÍÓÒÐÈ ëþáÿ.




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



Ïîýò ëèøü Ñâåò ëåëåÿòü äîëæåí,
Âïóñòèâ åãî â ñâîè ñòèõè.
Êîëü Ñâåòà íåò, òî îí íè÷òîæåí, —
Âîñïðèìóò òîëüêî äóðàêè.

È ëèøü îäíî â òîì îòñòóïëåíüå:
Êîëü îïèñóåò Òåìíîòó,
Ìàðàçìû ìèðà, ðàçëîæåíüå,
×òî Ñâåò ñîêðûëè, ìàåòó,

Ìåøàþùóþ íàì î÷íóòüñÿ,
Òî îí äîñòîèí — Ñâåò âíóòðè:
Íàéä¸øü åãî — íå áóäåøü ãíóòüñÿ.
Ñêîðåé æå Ñâåò âíóòðè óçðè!




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



Ñïàñåíèå Äóøè

"Ãåîðãèé Èâàíîâè÷ Ãóðäæèåâ – åäèíñòâåííûé ÷åëîâåê â ìèðå, êîòîðûé âûñêàçàë îäíó íåâåðîÿòíî âàæíóþ âåùü: "Ó âàñ íåò íèêàêîé äóøè". Âî âñ¸ì ìèðå, âñå ðåëèãèè ñ÷èòàþò, ÷òî âû ðîæäàåòåñü ñ äóøîé. Ãîëîñ Ãóðäæèåâà îäèíîêî çâó÷èò âî âñåé èñòîðèè, óòâåðæäàÿ, ÷òî íå ó âñåõ åñòü äóøà; è ìåñòî äóøè ïóñòî. Ó âàñ åñòü âîçìîæíîñòü – åñëè âû ïîòðóäèòåñü, âû ìîæåòå ñîçäàòü äóøó – íî âû ñ íåþ íå ðîæäàåòåñü".
Îøî.


Òû ðîæäàåøüñÿ — åñòü Íå÷òî,
Óêðåïèòü ÷òî äîëæåí òû,
Èëü èñ÷åçíåò â Òüìå. Áåñïå÷íîñòü,
Çëó ïîòâîðñòâî — è ñêîòû

Ïîëó÷àþòñÿ èòîãîì.
Ýòèõ áîëüøå íå Ïîäíÿòü.
Ñîõðàíèâ ×àñòè÷êó Áîãà,
Ñâåò òû äîëæåí ïîçíàâàòü.

Ëèøü îò÷àñòè ïðàâ Ãóðäæèåâ —
Åñòü ÄÂÀ ÂÈÄÀ, è îíè
Ñëîâíî Ñâåò è Òüìà ÷óæèå.
È ðàøèçì, ãîâíèäà äíè

Ïîêàçàëè î÷åíü ÿðêî,
Êòî åñòü êòî â Áåäëàìå Çëà.
Êîëü ñ Äóøîé ðîäèëñÿ, Ïàðêà
Óâåä¸ò ñ ïóòè êîçëà,

Òîëüêî åñëè ñâåðõ-óñèëèÿ
 ýòîì áóäåøü ïðèëàãàòü.
À, îò÷àÿâøèñü, â áåññèëèå
Ïîãðóç`èøüñÿ — Äóøó áóäóò _äîáèâàòü.

Âèä îäèí. Íå _ñëàá Äóøîþ
Î÷åíü ðåäêèé èíäèâèä,
È ÈÑÕÎÄÍÎ. À ïîä Ëîæüþ Áîåâîþ
Ñíèêëè ìíîãèå. Ãîâíèä

Îòòåíèë è ýòî. Ñëóøàé
Èíòóèöèþ âñåãäà,
×ðåç ñâîþ êðèòè÷íîñòü Äóøó
Îãðàäèâ îò Çëà Ñòûäà.

Èñêðà Áîãà: íåäîòðîãà
Ñ íåé íå ñïðàâèòñÿ — âïåð¸ä,
Ðàçæèãàé å¸! Íåìíîãî
Èçíûâàòü â Àäó, âåäü Ñîëíöå
Î÷åíü ñêîðî Àä ñîææ¸ò,
Âûïàðèâ âñ¸ Çëî äî äîíöà.
 




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



Ñèçèôîâ òðóä

"Òî, ÷òî ìû äåëàåì, ìû çà èñòèíó íå ñ÷èòàåì, îäíàêî äåëàåì".
Àâðåëèé Àâãóñòèí.


Íàïðÿãøè "óì", âçíóçäàâøè íåðâû,
È ×óøü Ãîëèìóþ ëþáÿ,
 íàïðàñíûé òðóä, ÷òîá ñòàòü â í¸ì ïåðâûì,
È îá "óñïåõàõ" âñåõ òðóáÿ,
Ìû ðèíóëèñü. Ñóäüáà ñìå¸òñÿ
Íàä çëûì ñèçèôîâûì òðóäîì:
Êîãäà æ ïðèäóðîê ñåé çàãí¸òñÿ,
Ñìåíèâ íà Àä Çåìíîé Äóðäîì?!



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



Ñëîâî

"Ñëîâî ïðèíàäëåæèò íàïîëîâèíó òîìó, êòî ãîâîðèò, è íàïîëîâèíó òîìó, êòî ñëóøàåò".
Ìèøåëü äå Ìîíòåíü, XVI-ûé âåê.


Íåñëûøèì â ìèðå ëæè — è Ñëîâî
Âìèã ïîíèæàåòñÿ â öåíå.
×åì áîëüøå ëæè, ïðî÷íåé îêîâû:
Òâîðåö ñ ñîáîé íàåäèíå

Îñòàëñÿ, òàê êàê îí íå ìîæåò
Ñòàòü ñ íåäîóìêîì â îáùèé ðÿä,
Ãäå Ñëîâî â Âàëå Ëæè ñòðåíîæàò.
À êîëü ïîä****îê ëæè, òû ãàä.



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



Ôàáðèêà ñìåðòè:
×óøè â íåé âåðüòå —
Äîâåäóò äî ìîãèëû;
Íî Çëó âåðÿò äåáèëû. 




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



Ïîèñê Ñâåòà

"Âàñ íàçîâóò èñòðåáèòåëÿìè ìîðàëè, íî âû ëèøü îòêðûâàòåëè ñàìèõ ñåáÿ".
Ôðèäðèõ Íèöøå.


Âíå ìîðàëè, âíå òîëïû,
Ãäå áåçóìíûå ðàáû,
Åäèíèöû èñêëþ÷åíèé
Èùóò Ñâåò â òüìå ïîêîëåíèé
È íàõîäÿò ëèøü ÂÍÓÒÐÈ.
Òàê è òû åãî óçðè!




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



ÒåëåâèçÅð ãîíèò øèçó,
×åðíü âíèìàåò, ïîòîìó,
Ìèð áåçóìíûé äîñòèã Íèçà,
Ñëóæà íåëþäè äåðüìó.




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



Ïî÷òè òðàíñïîðòíîå...

"×åðò âîçüìè!" — ñêàçàë îäèí ìîëîäîé ÷åëîâåê — "ãîðüêî óçíàâàòü, ÷òî ÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿþ ñîáîé ñîçäàíüå, äâèæóùååñÿ ïî çàðàíåå ïðîëîæåííûì ðåëüñàì, ÷òî ÿ, îäíèì ñëîâîì, íå àâòîáóñ, à òðàìâàé".
Áåðòðàí Ðàññåë.


Íå àâòîáóñ, à òðàìâàé,
Ñïëîøü íàáèòûé ÷åïóõîé.
Ðåëüñû êîí÷èëèñü — ñäûõàé:
Ìíîãî "íîâûõ" çà òîáîé!..

---

Äåïî, òðàìâàé: íàáèòüå ×óøüþ —
Îáðàçîâàíüåì íàçîâóò.
Íà ðåëüñû — óáèâàþò Äóøè
 ïóòè. Òî íàçîâóò íàïðàñíûé òðóä.




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



"Ïðîãðåññ"

"Ñ÷èòàòü ëè ýòî ïðîãðåññîì, åñëè ëþäîåä íàó÷èëñÿ ïîëüçîâàòüñÿ íîæîì è âèëêîé?"
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


Ñïîñîáû óåñòü ïîäîáíûõ
Ñîâåðøåíñòâóåò "ïðîãðåññ".
Ñðåäü ïîäåëîê íèçêîïðîáíûõ
Âîçðàñòàåò ÒÂÀÐÅÉ ïðåññ.

Òå ïèòàþòñÿ ãàââàõîì,
Ëîæü ïðèïðàâîþ, à ñòðàõ
Êàê ïîäëèâà. À íà ïëàõå
Äóõ è Óì — è äåëî øâàõ.




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



Ïîñëóøíûå ïñû ëæåíàóêè è ïåùåðíàÿ ãëóïîñòü ìèðà

"Âåðà è çíàíèå — ýòî äâå ÷àøè âåñîâ: ÷åì âûøå îäíà, òåì íèæå äðóãàÿ".
Àðòóð Øîïåíãàóýð.


Ëæå-çíàíüå ñòàëî âåðîé —
Óðàâíîâåñèò Äóõ
Òîò ãðóç äâîéíîé? Â ïåùåðàõ
Âñå ìû "æèâ¸ì" ñðåäü ñëóã,

×òî ñàòàíèçì âíåäðÿþò
 "íàóêàõ" è òý.ïý.
Ïîä ëîæüþ âñå ëàæàþò,
Ïðåëüñòèâøèñü íà ëàâý.

Äóõîâíûõ åäèíèöû —
È âíèç ïîøëè âåñû:
È Àä Çåìíîé íå ìíèòñÿ —
Îäîëåâàþò ïñû.



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



Ñìåðòü ê ëèöó

"Íå êàæäîìó æèçíü ê ëèöó".
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


ÆèçÄíü óáîãàÿ ê ëèöó
Íåäîóìêó, ïîäëåöó.
×óòêèé âûáèðàåò Ñìåðòü —
Ñìåðòü äëÿ ìèðà. ×óøè òâåðäü

Íå ïðîáèòü íåêðåïêèì ëáîì,
Òðóäíî ðÿäîì áûòü ñ ðàáîì,
À Èíûõ ÷òîá îòûñêàòü —
Äîëãî âîçäóõ ñîòðÿñàòü

Íàäî ãðîìêî, è ïðèòîì
Øàíñîâ ìèçåð: ìèð — Äóðäîì.
"Íîðìîþ" áåçóìíûé ðàá,
×òî äóøîíêîþ îñëàá

Èëè âîâñå áåç äóøè.
Ñìåðòü ê ëèöó, êîëü "ëþäè"-âøè
Îáñòóïèëè è ñîñóò
Ñîêè æèçíè, â Äóøó ñðóò.




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



Ãîâíî ëæåíàóêè — èì ìàæóò ìèð

"×åëîâåêà, ñòðåìÿùåãîñÿ ïðèñïîñîáèòü íàóêó ê òàêîé òî÷êå çðåíèÿ, êîòîðàÿ ïî÷åðïíóòà íå èç ñàìîé íàóêè (êàê áû ïîñëåäíÿÿ íè îøèáàëàñü), à èçâíå, ê òàêîé òî÷êå çðåíèÿ, êîòîðàÿ ïðîäèêòîâàíà ÷óæäûìè íàóêå, âíåøíèìè äëÿ íå¸ èíòåðåñàìè, òàêîãî ÷åëîâåêà ÿ íàçûâàþ "íèçêèì".
Êàðë Ìàðêñ.


Âîäû òàê ìíîãî óòåêëî! —
È ïðîñòèòóöèÿ âîøëà
 ÷åðòîã "íàóêè": ïðàâèò Çëî
Ïðîäàæíûì ñêîïèùåì. Áåç Çëà

Ïîäà÷åê è ÖýÓ äàâíî
Íå äåëàþò òàì íè÷åãî.
È ïîëó÷àåòñÿ Ãîâíî.
Èì ìàæóò ìèð — Çëà òîðæåñòâî.




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



Ðàñêðàñêà, äåòñêàÿ è íå ñîâñåì...

Ðàñêðàñêà äåòñêàÿ — îíà
Ïðîäîëæèòñÿ, è âçðîñëûé êîëü.
Âîò òîëüêî êèñòü â ðóêàõ Êîçëà —
Òåáÿ ðàñêðàñèò ÷åðåç áîëü

Äóøåâíóþ, óãðîáèâ óì:
Äëÿ Çëà ïàñòåëüíûå öâåòà,
À ÷òîáû áûëî ìåíüøå äóì,
Ñïëîøü ëîæíûé öåëåé ìàåòà

Ñ îêðàñêîé ÿðêîé. È òîëïà
Çà ×óøüþ ðèíåòñÿ, òåáÿ
 Àä óâëåêàÿ. À òðîïà,
×òî ê Ñâåòó, ñêðûòà. Ñîñêðåáÿ

Ñëîé òîëñòûé êðàñêè, òû å¸
Îòûùåøü, åñëè ïîâåç¸ò,
È íå çàáèëà Òüìà ×óòü¸,
Íå ñòàë êàê âñå — çëîé èäèîò.



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



×òî "ÑÌÈ" âòàëäû÷àò — òî "ðåàëüíîñòü".
Êîëü ðàçúÿñíèò âó÷¸íûé ïîö,
×òî íåïîíÿòíî, ÈÍÔÅÐÍÀËÜÍÎÑÒÜ
"Íîðìàëüíûì ìèðîì" ïðåäñòà¸ò...




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



Ñæèæåííûå áðåäíè —
Òû äëÿ íèõ íàñëåäíèê.
Âåðèøü èì — ïîñëåäíèé
Ñðåäü ïîêîðíûõ: ðàçóì ñíèê,
Äóõ ñêóêîæåí — îãëóïë¸ííûé ïñèõ.




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



The Salvation of the Soul

"You are born with nothing but the potential to form it. You don’t have a soul, and that’s the greatest truth. If you labor, you can create one—but you are not born with it."
Osho.


You are born — there’s something here,
That you must strengthen, or it’ll disappear.
Or else it’ll vanish, lost in the Night,
Indulgence in evil — beasts in sight.

The outcome’s clear for such a path,
These souls are lost, and none will last.
Preserve the spark of God inside,
You must know the Light, let it be your guide.

Gurdjieff’s truth is partly right,
There are TWO kinds, in day and night.
Like Light and Dark, they stand apart,
And CowID days show the evil heart.

They’ve shown the truth in stark relief,
In Bedlam’s grasp, in dark belief.
If born with Soul, with strength and might,
Park’s hand will guide you through the fight.

But only with effort, and will so strong,
Can you break through when all seems wrong.
Despair, weakness—become the test,
The Soul, once lost, may face its death.

One view: the rarest kind of soul,
From birth untouched, it’s born whole.
But under lies, many have failed,
Fallen prey to a darkness that veiled.

The stench of it has dimmed the light,
Trust your intuition, in darkest night.
Guard your soul with critical care,
Shield it from the Shame that lurks out there.

The spark of God: a fragile thing,
Only those who strive can spread its wings.
Fuel it, burn it—feel the heat,
Endure the Hell, for soon you’ll meet
The Sun, which burns the Evil away,
Evaporating Darkness, till nothing stays.



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



The Coloring Book, Childish and Not Quite…

A coloring book for kids, you see,
It stretches on, and ages be.
But in the hands of the Devil’s brush,
You’ll be painted through pain’s rush.

A soul undone, a mind destroyed:
For evil, soft pastels employed.
To dull the mind and stifle thought,
A web of false goals, tightly caught.

Bright hues of lies the masses chase,
Drawing you down in their disgrace.
The path to Light, concealed from view,
Beneath thick layers, hidden too.

Scrape away the paint, and there,
You’ll find the way — if luck’s your share.
If darkness hasn’t dulled your sense,
And you’re not lost in the idiot’s pretense.



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



The Obedient Dogs of Pseudoscience and the Cavernous Stupidity of the World

"Faith and knowledge are two scales: the higher one, the lower the other."
Arthur Schopenhauer.


False knowledge turned to faith,
Will Spirit balance this weight?
In caverns deep, we find our place,
Among the servants, lost in haste.

They spread satanic lies,
In "sciences" and alibis.
Under falsehoods, all they play,
Tempted by wealth, they drift astray.

The spiritual, in dwindling few,
The scales descend, as darkness grew.
The earthly Hell, it seems to fade,
Yet the dogs of evil will invade.



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



The Factory of Death

Believe the lies it spouts,
They'll lead you straight to graves;
But fools believe in evil,
And slavery it craves.



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



The Shit of Pseudoscience — They Paint the World With It

"So, the man who tries to bend science to a view that comes not from science itself (no matter how much science may err), but from outside interests alien to it, I call 'low.'"
Karl Marx.


So much water has flowed by—
And prostitution’s now inside
The halls of "science," where Evil reigns,
Led by the merchants' vile chains.

Without bribes or orders, none
Do anything beneath the sun.
And what results is filth and waste,
As evil’s victory is embraced.



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



Death Becomes

"Not everyone wears life well."
Stanislaw Jerzy Lec.


A wretched life suits the fool,
The scoundrel, the vile tool.
The sensitive choose Death instead—
Death for the world, where lies are fed.

No fragile skull can pierce the stone,
It’s hard to stand with slaves alone.
To find the rare, the few, the bright—
One must shake the air with might.

Loud, and still the chances fade,
The world’s a madhouse, madly laid.
A "normal" slave, in madness trapped,
His soul grown weak, in lies enwrapped.

Or worse, he’s lost all soul, undone.
Death becomes him, for the "people" come,
Surround and drain life’s sacred juice,
Defiling the soul with their vile abuse.



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



The Poet Must Cherish the Light

The poet must protect the Light,
And let it flow within his lines.
Without the Light, he’s void, a blight—
Only fools will hear his signs.

But there’s one thing in this retreat:
If he describes the Dark's decay,
The madness, chaos in the street,
Where Light is hidden, lost to stray,

The strife that keeps us from our wake—
Then he is worthy, Light inside.
Find it, and you’ll never break,
For Light within, you shall abide.



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



The Word

"The word belongs half to the speaker, and half to the listener."
Michel de Montaigne, 16th century.


In a world of lies, the Word
Is swiftly devalued, unheard.
The more the lies, the tighter the chains—
The Creator stands alone, in pains.

For he cannot join the fools’ parade,
Where Words are shackled in the Shade.
And if you're bound by lies so deep,
Then to the liar's pit, you’ll sleep.




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



The Light Inside You

Light and Truth, and Liberty—
All else is folly, plain to see.
In the chaos of this world,
Through the fog, the herds are hurled

To their complete degradation.
The interim result is clear—
False diseases, false foundation,
And the Horned God hides in fear.

Under Satan’s heavy grip,
The world remains, a sinking ship.
Add the terror of rashism’s lies,
They’ll never wake, they’ll never rise.

The final truth, the key, the call—
Save yourself, escape the fall.
Choose the path of Knowledge bright,
And cherish only the Light inside.




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



The Labor of Sisyphus

"That which we do, we do not consider truth, yet we do it nonetheless."
Aurelius Augustine.


With "mind" stretched thin, and nerves all frayed,
Embracing foolishness with pride,
We rush to toil, to be first paid,
And trumpet all our "success" far and wide.

We charge ahead, while Fate just mocks,
This cruel Sisyphus-like grind.
When will this fool’s labor stop,
And swap this Hell for the world confined?



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



The Search for Light

"You will be called destroyers of morality, but you are only the discoverers of yourselves."
Friedrich Nietzsche.


Beyond morality, beyond the crowd,
Where mad slaves cry out loud,
A few exceptions, bold and bright,
Seek the Light within the night,
And find it only deep inside.
So, look within and see the guide!



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



Inside Out at Dawn

Turn your weary mind inside out,
At dawn, let rest your troubled soul;
The Spirit breathes—though filled with doubt,
It labors hard 'mid thoughts that roll.



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



The Black Lyre

Work wears you down, the toil is long—
That’s what it means with Lyre in hand.
Surrounded by corrupt fools, strong—
You can't breathe, trapped in their land.

So, one companion on the road,
The Black Lyre is mine alone.
Death stands by, and that’s much better—
Bow to it, you’re just a stone.

Rebellion means the Lyre stays dark,
Forever etched in shades of night.
To write for fools is foolishness—
It’s madness, and your mind’s lost sight.



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



Verse Construction

Verse is not the shaping of words,
Of rhyme, or rhythm, but the soul's
Impulse. And if multiplication
Happens in the silence of the whole

Mind, when that impulse calls to mind
A reader's response in kind,
Then through the words you’ll break the line,
A triumph of a world undefined.

A world beyond what words convey,
A paradox that language hides.
The Higher Truth, that we, astray,
Love… boxing, though the truth divides.

This boxing ring, a cage to hold,
A way to fight what’s just like you.
We turn from questions, harsh and bold,
That paradox in us stays true.



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



Enemies of the People

To the level of the people's foe,
Stalin and Khrushchev will drag you low.
Some, mere pests, in small disgrace —
NKVD’s an easy trace.

Small Vasya Pupkin can’t be known
As enemy to a nation grown.
And even if he’s a criminal,
The charges clear, the sentence tall.

To execute on one false word —
That’s when the real enemy's stirred:
A tyrant, foul with evil’s kiss,
A ruler lost in wicked bliss.




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



No Fish

In times of barren streams,
A crayfish isn’t fish, it seems —
Just a scavenger at best,
Time to rid the world of the rest.

The filth is in the tales we tell,
In fables where the shadows dwell.
It's for those hiding in the dark,
Forever trapped in fear's sharp mark.




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



"Progress"

The ways to consume the like,
"Progress" refines with every strike.
Among cheap tricks and hollow schemes,
The press of beasts grows in their seams.

They feast on lies, with fear as sauce,
Truth and mind are left to loss.
On the scaffold, spirit dies,
As reason falls, and hope denies.



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



The TV spreads its twisted lies,
The masses listen, hypnotized.
In this mad world, we’ve hit the ground,
Serving monsters, lost and bound.



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


What the "media" preach is "truth",
If some learned fool explains,
That what’s unclear, "INFERNAL,"
Is the world in which it reigns.



---------------------
Almost transport's...

"Damn it!" — said one young man — "it is a bitter thing to learn that I am a creature moving on pre-laid rails, that I am, in a word, not a bus, but a tram."
— Bertrand Russell.


Not a bus, but a tram,
Full of nonsense, here I am.
The tracks have ended — now you die,
So many "new ones" passing by!

Depot, tram: packed with lies,
Called "education" in disguise.
On the tracks, they kill the soul,
A journey deemed a wasted goal.



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



Humor breaks through the void,
A paradox within the Walls of Lies.
Lies strengthen fortresses deployed,
Whispering, shouting, "Serve, be wise!"

Laugh at this world so poor and grim,
Apply sarcasm, sharp and bright:
The world’s become a filthy bin,
Where "normal" is pure madness' blight.




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



Switch to Death — no turning back,
The foolish wretch won’t understand.
Around, the beasts; where are the men?
Where’s the humanity in this land?

Cats are smarter than the herd,
Only a few have Spirit, Honor,
They see the triumph of evil’s word,
Unmoved by hell’s cruel, endless horror.

Blinded by the feast and the rut,
The mind’s remains are drowned in dust.
Death’s the choice when lies corrupt,
And from the beasts, as always, comes just… DISGUST.



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



This world’s a trap, a cage, a snare,
If you’re a “darling,” just beware.
The carrion waits, a stinking weight,
You’re just the prey, a twisted fate.

To free from traps — like hunter’s art,
Fascism reigns where beasts depart.
When spirit’s crushed, you fight, you kill,
A hero’s born, with fire and will.



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



The foolish sheep, from twisted schemes,
Will never break free — luck’s just dreams!
If gluttony’s his only art,
He’s blind and mute, with no true heart.

Born a beast, this sheep’s a fool,
No need for praise for such a tool.
If you hope, you’re just a clown,
In this poor world, it's all “down.”



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



The stinking scum, the vile beasts,
Sold all in lies, in a world deceased.
The outcome's clear — all freaks must go,
Only the drunkard didn't know.

Bastards ANYONE, who don't fight the Dark,
If you don’t, you've lost your spark.
Is this the majority? A reason for shame?
To stoop to the level of this corrupt game?



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



Saving money's foolish, I’ve spent it all,
Greed is a sin, a fatal call.
Add stupidity to the mix, you see,
A fool, a puppet, that’s what he’ll be.

Controlled by bribes and laced with lies,
He stands before us with vacant eyes.
He knows how to chew with his head,
But devours greed, never dead.




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



Cops are asses with big ears,
Serving BEASTS, fooling peers.
They boss around, ignore the uprisings,
Holding back with idiotic disguisings.

The rest is just excuses spun,
They love to add some colorful fun:
“Fighting crime is our true task...”
In between, for monsters to bask.

For them, the goal is to suppress revolt,
Crime? They don’t care—just a remote.
Cops pretend they’re on the case,
Finding something in their chase.

They fool the fools with lies untold—
In films, a cop’s noble, bold.



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



The black cat purrs more sweetly, you’ll find,
When you carry food of every kind.
It seems that visions in black are strong,
Don’t touch the black cat, fool, you’re wrong!

It often crosses the road, unaware,
Of a fool’s problems, beyond repair.
They’re of a subtle, twisted kind,
While idiots stumble, dull and blind.

In this world, all is BLACK, you see,
The black cat’s a symbol pure and free.
If you grow a bit more sensitive, you’ll know,
You’ll see the blind crowd stumbling below.



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


A world of lies that clings and claws,
Where clouds are shadows, dark and raw.
Here, they brand with filth and grime,
A cursed cross for all of time.

Baptized, you’re pushed into your pen,
You must earn your food again.
If you're a traitor—beastly brew,
The sycophants will circle you.

Like goats that lead the sheep to slaughter,
Here, they march, no sense of water.
A genocide, a vile disgrace—
This world is doomed, no saving grace.




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



The freaks of Nature, wild and bold,
Dream of taking bites untold.
Madmen hack the tree away,
To carve their future from decay.

But little's left to claim or hold,
And soon they’ll swing, their fate foretold—
A branch that’s new, a bitter test,
As Death draws near, and takes its rest.



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



Heresy is driven forth by Evil's grin,
With false science as its deadly hymn.
Sensitivity, wit, and courage, too,
Are vital to keep your mind in view.

Lest darkness fall and blind the soul,
The beast's the path, the final goal.
Their task is to decay both Spirit and Honor,
With Conscience in their sights, a hunted goner.



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



On your mark! Attention!! STOP!!!
This world’s always the same.
In it, lies are crowned as gods,
And fools, the first to feel the shame.

Tear apart the mindless throng,
Destroy their power, drag them along.



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



Madness grew — the fools all bent,
But finally, they woke, and then
They saw that Doom had come to stay,
Embracing them like father’s way.

He’ll lead them to the gates of Hell,
The fools, once more, will swell and yell.
Call filth “honey,” they’ll devour,
Not seeing chains, they’ll feel no power.

Call Hell their paradise, they’ll cheer,
And drown the world in blood and fear.



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


Obedient Nonsense-Mind

“Pedagogy”—a word so clever—
“Logic” fed from heights above:
Kill the mind that dares be ever
Free, and cage it like a dove.

There’s the flaw in all their teaching,
Rigged and rotten to the core:
Brutes they need—uncouth, unpreaching—
Rot in lies, then beg for more.

Crammed with junk until the swelling
Blasts the memory to dust—
Any thinking, any yelling
Gets erased. Obey, you must.

That’s the standard. That’s the measure.
Paved in grey, the dismal route.
Only drones receive the treasure:
Those who swallow lies and doubt.



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



Kill the mind and train a fool —
That’s the core of every school.
Truth is banned, and lies are fed.
Think too much — you’re better dead.




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



Obey, consume, and never ask.
The school is just a brainwash mask.
They cage your mind and feed you dirt —
And praise you most when thinking hurts.



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



Dumb on cue — that’s school’s ideal.
Facts are fake, and lies are real.
Think too loud? They'll call it sin.
Shut your brain — that's how you win.



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



Thought is crime.
Dumb is prime.
March in line —
Waste your time.



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



Learn to crawl, not think or see.
Swallow trash — get your degree.
Truth is dead, but grades are gold.
Be the puppet. Do what’s told.



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



Donkeys on the Road to Hell

The old one reeks.
The new one stinks!
But the fool still speaks
Of "fate" — how it links!

A genocide slow,
Through centuries spread.
So your fate? To bow
And die half-dead.

It’s all a farce,
This “glorious” day.
If you count as “stars”
The filth and decay.

Dreams, they say,
Will light your track —
But dreams just pave
The road to black.

And we — the donkeys, blind and tame —
Are whipped ahead with hopes... and shame.



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



You dream — they lead.
You doubt — they feed.
Die in line.
That’s their design.



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



March with hope, obey the bell —
Donkeys dream their way to hell.



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



“Fate,” they say — while you decay.
Dream, obey, then rot away.



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



Same old stink in a fresher shell.
Dreamers die on the road to hell.



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



Free Yourself from All the Crap

Free yourself from all the lies,
Live with calm, let thought arise,
Save your soul and clear your mind,
Leave the fear of beasts behind.

Fear and madness fill the land —
Only solitude can stand.
Peace is rare — the world’s a fraud,
Ruled by demons selling God.

All creative sparks are dead,
Choked by what the devils spread.
Those who drag “goodness” through the slime
Are hollow now — and past their time.

They serve the fiends, they keep things still,
No longer human — just goodwill
For filth and rot. So bear the strife —
But never bow to shit in life.



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



Free your mind, escape the lie.
Live for truth — or just die.
Serve no beast, bow to no filth.
Face the world, and claim your will.



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



Escape the junk, break the chains.
Feed your soul, not their gains.
They sell you hell, you sell them life —
But never kneel to death or strife.



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



The world’s a trap, don’t feed the lies.
Stand your ground, or lose your mind.
Fight the crap, with every breath.
Never bow to filth or death.



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



Drown the lies, let silence scream.
Don’t obey their poisoned dream.
They thrive on lies, you fight the beast.
Never bow — stand for the feast.



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



Hasten to Understand in Silence

Hasten, grasp the truth in quiet,
The essence here, this hellish land.
Fail to see — you’ll lose your riot,
Your chance for grace, your soul unmanned.

Do you wish to rot in Hell?
If you don’t get it, you will fall.
Soon the flames will rise and swell,
As reptiles feast in evil’s thrall.

Decay, it lingers. You can see
The limits of this twisted state.
Only he who’s brave and free
Won’t let the filth control his fate.

You’re a fool if you tolerate
The lies, the mockery they deal.
Doesn’t sick you — vile, cruel hate?
The lies they spin, the false appeal?

Then your life was wasted, friend,
To call it life would be a jest.
Bow to beasts, and break or bend,
Thank them for the lies they blessed?




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



Bow to lies, and rot in hell.
Life’s a joke — you played it well.
Stand and fight, or bend and break.
Truth or lies — choose what’s at stake.



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



Lies, they live, and so do you —
Dying slow, and thinking true.
Stand your ground, or bow to rot,
Choose your fate, or rot a lot.



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



If you stand for lies, you die.
Don’t kneel to filth, or wonder why.
Choose to fight, or rot and burn,
Truth is all — you’ll soon learn.



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



You live in lies, you die in shame,
Thank them for your rotten game.
Bow to beasts, you’ll never win —
It’s hell they sell, it’s hell you’re in.





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



Îïóñòîøåíüå, îò÷óæäåíüå —
Õîðîøèé çíàê: íà íîâûé ïóòü
Äóøà, ïîêèíóâ ðàçëîæåíüå
Ìèðêà, èä¸ò, áûòü ìîæåò. Ìóòü è Æóòü

Åé, î÷åâèäíî, íå ïîäõîäÿò —
È èùåò Ñâåò â Êðîìåøíîé Òüìå.
Ïóñòü åäèíèöû Ñâåò íàõîäÿò,
Íî ïðîòèâëåíèå ñóäüáå

Âàæíåå Ñâåòà, òàê êàê Ïîèñê
Âàæíåéøèì êà÷åñòâîì Äóøè
Âñåãäà ÿâëÿëñÿ. Óñïîêîÿñü,
Îíà ïîãðÿçíåò â Ìèðàæè.



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



Íåèçáåæíîñòü íåóäà÷è

"Òðóäíî ïîâåðèòü, ÷òî êòî-ëèáî, ïðîæèâ æèçíü, íå ñ÷èòàë áû å¸ â ãëóáèíå äóøè íåóäà÷íîé".
Ìàðê Òâåí.


Íåóäà÷à åñòü ñèíîíèì
ÆèçÄíè â ìåðçîñòíîì ìèðêå:
 ëæè è ñòðàõå ñ äåòñòâà òîíåì,
À äóðàê íà äóðàêå

Ïèðàìèäîé — âîò óñòðîéñòâî,
×òî â òîñêó âãîíÿåò óì,
Ïðè÷èíÿÿ áåñïîêîéñòâî
È Äóøå. Áåçóìüÿ øóì,

×òî ãëîáàëüíîå, äîñòàíåò
Ñàìûõ ñòîéêèõ, ïðèâåäÿ
Ê îäèíî÷åñòâó.  Òüìó êàíåò,
Ïî óêàçêå Çëà èäÿ,

Ñêîðî âñ¸, è íåóäà÷åé
Çäåñü õîòü ÷òî-òî èçìåíèòü
Ñòàíóò âñå óñèëüÿ, è òåì ïà÷å,
Êîëü ñ íàäåæäîé ê îíûì ïîäõîäèòü.




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



Òèïà "ñâîáîäíûé ìèð", èëè Äåðüìîêðàòèÿ íå ìíîãèì ëó÷øå ñîöèàëèçìà

";;Ñîöèàëèñòû êðè÷àò "Âëàñòü ëþäÿì!" è ïîäíèìàþò ñæàòûé êóëàê. Âñå ìû çíàåì, ÷òî ýòî çíà÷èò íà ñàìîì äåëå: "Âëàñòü íàä ëþäüìè. Âëàñòü ãîñóäàðñòâó".
;Ìàðãàðåò Òýò÷åð.


Èç "ïîñëàáëåíèé ìèðà" Òýò÷åð
Çëî îáëè÷àëà "êîììóíèçì".
Íî äåðüìîêðàòèÿ ïðåäòå÷à
Èíûõ ïðîáëåì — òî ãëîáàëèçì.

Âëàñòü íàä ëþäüìè ïðè í¸ì ñèëüíåå —
Òî ïîêàçàë òóïîé ãîâíèä,
À ëîæü áåçóìíåé è ïîäëåå.
À âïðî÷åì, òî è òî — Êðîìåøíûé Ñòûä.



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



Âñ¸ âàæíîå — ïîä íîëü!

"×åëîâåê — ýòî òîò, êòî ïåðâè÷íîå äåëàåò âòîðè÷íûì, à âòîðè÷íîå — ïåðâè÷íûì".
Þðèé Òóáîëüöåâ.


Íå âòîðè÷íûì, à òðåòè÷íûì,
×åòâåðè÷íûì è òý.äý.
Ïîëó÷àåòñÿ îòëè÷íî —
Âñ¸ ÏÎÄ ÍÎËÜ. Ðóáè ëàâý!





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



Liquefied Delusions

Just recently, I caught some chatter —
More nonsense for my growing pile.
Inheritor of minds that shatter,
A humble lunatic in style.

Here lies and drivel fill the weather,
But I’m no bird — I am a shell.
Too late to dream of soaring feathers,
Yet in decay, I’m doing well.

Delusions melt into a river —
An ocean rising, thick and wide.
A copper lid will soon deliver
The death of eagles in their pride.

But shells are made for such a broth —
I’ll add more madness to my trove.
Though reason drowned in lies and froth,
Its market price is far too low.




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




Emptiness, Estrangement

Estrangement, loss — a sacred token:
The soul departs decay and dust.
Its ties to rot and ruin broken,
It seeks — perhaps — a path more just.

It won’t abide in dread or madness,
But hunts for Light through darkest haze.
Few find it — yet defying sadness
Means more than basking in its blaze.

For searching is the soul’s true nature,
More vital than the light it seeks.
If stilled, content in falseful stature —
It sinks in phantoms, lost and weak.



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



The Inevitability of Failure
(After a quote by Mark Twain)

“It's hard to believe one lives a life
Without, at heart, declaring it a loss.”
He knew the world: its noise, its strife —
A stacked-up game where fools are boss.

We drown in fear, in lies we're raised,
This vile little world’s the stage.
A pyramid of dullness, praised,
That cages thought and stirs up rage.

This madness — vast, industrial-sized —
Will wear down even strongest hearts.
Alone we drift, dehumanized,
As evil pulls the world apart.

And soon comes end — a grim parade —
Where all attempts to shift the tide
Are just more failures, retrograde,
Especially if hope’s applied.



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



A fool-built world on lies and fear —
No soul breaks through, no truth draws near.



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



The Priests

They sell you "Heaven" like the Cup —
Finals of some holy game.
Buy tickets high, then mark them up —
And sell your soul to chase the same.

But lies have cost — Hell takes its due.
And if you sell yourself for gain,
You serve the Devil — dressed in black,
Where blind submission keeps you chained.

No room for Spirit. Mind? Forbidden.
Their sacred texts are slave-made fiction.



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



War on Reason and Humanity

Unchained, unhinged — that’s how to live,
Or choke beneath the weight of lies.
The rot is thick, and they won’t give —
It’s falsehood used as battle cries.

Corruption floods from every screen —
A weapon in the Creature’s grip.
The filth is vast, the stench obscene,
It chokes the soul, it makes minds slip.

Only the fierce, the wild, the clear
Can cast this madness off and see.
But docile sheep will cling to fear —
And die in blind captivity.

Their goal? To kill what makes us true —
All humanness erased by lies.
This war’s not waged with swords — but through
The soul’s slow murder in disguise.



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



They wage a war through poisoned screens —
To burn the soul, destroy what means.



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



1.
Obey or rot — that’s their demand.
Truth dies beneath a liar’s brand.

2.
They flood the world with toxic lies —
To crush all thought and cauterize.

3.
The soul’s on fire — they call it peace.
But truth begins where chains release.



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



The Storm Within

A storm within is not despair —
It means you’ve cracked the leash.
You feel the lies stripped layer by layer
From off your soul and flesh.

They train us young to trust the fake,
To swallow lies as fate —
It’s how they teach the mind to break,
And keep you in their state.

Like spinning spokes, the fear and lies
Flash in the hamster cage.
And truth? It flickers, barely tries...
Just dust and dread — this stage.



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



1.
The storm inside is not defeat —
It means you're breaking from deceit.

2.
They spin the wheel with fear and lies —
Obey, go numb — or start to rise.

3.
A soul that storms is not yet dead —
But one that sleeps is led — and bled.



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



Agony of the Luciferian System

The System’s last and final fight
Is with the remnants called “the People.”
Blind sheep, mute, shackled tight,
Under demons’ iron steeple.

The fragments cannot join or stand —
So everything will be erased.
No clear mind can understand
The truth when lies have been embraced.

It draws its own conclusions blind,
Cut off the cords of cruel deceit —
That keep the herd locked, chained, confined,
Controlled by fear, and lies repeat.

The System’s agony displayed,
By CowID’s harsh, revealing light:
Falsehoods, fears, memes dismayed —
A pitiful, disgraceful blight.




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



Umka loves to crunch her fish.
To fools, lies taste like honey sweet:
Satan will cradle all with tricks —
Wild lies will drag you to defeat!

CowID showed the battle’s core —
Deception strong, a brutal force.
Only scum obey the lore,
Fools get banished, lost their course.

Analysis? Long dead and gone.
Critical thought’s beneath the floor.
Hysteria reigns, emotions spawn —
The rabble’s lost its chance for more.



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



Apocalypse

The tyrants reign, the madness spreads,
A world consumed by endless fear.
They strike where fragile spirit threads —
The soul is thin, the dust is near.

The rotten world is sharp and coarse,
Its grains cut deep, the truth is clear.
It’s time to end this cruel farce —
The answer to the dark is near.

We’ll live within the Subtle Plane —
Where souls find grace, their true estate.
But liars, scum, in Hades’ reign —
Shall lie to devils, sealed their fate.




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




Shaitans act like masters,
In this pitiful small world.
They strike the Heart with cruel blasters,
Through lies, fools are swiftly hurled.

The fool becomes their weapon,
And fools form their cruel horde.
Their fictions, lies — the deadly lesson:
A call to kill, their word.




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



An Alternative to September First

A holiday for Thought’s own skill,
On some September day:
If falsehoods fill your mind to spill,
Then all “learning” fades away.

Memory overloaded with trash
Kills living thought inside,
And twists the soul in foolish rash —
You join the fools’ dull tide.

To Evil dullness, school’s a base,
Its roots sink deep and strong.
Be sharp, be brave—refuse to place
Your faith where lies belong.

Only Thought can sift the trash,
Cut through the fog, move on.
Though fools around in slow-motion crash,
Falsehood won’t consume the strong.

Now lies are weapons, clear and grim—
As CowID revealed.
In this deceitful, sinking brim,
Independent minds are nearly killed.




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



High-Carbon Lies

Forged deep down to core and base,
The alloy’s made of lies.
Bound tight in that deceitful case,
Just add a spark — it dies.

The core will crack, the bones remain,
A skeleton exposed.
They chant the same dull, twisted strain
For years, in cycles closed.

Now everywhere, bare skeletons stand,
Meat gone, replaced by lies.
Bones like daggers in Reason’s hand —
The Mind with fear complies.

This scene throws all in trembling dread —
An Armageddon’s face,
Of wretched fools long banished, dead,
And Spirit lost from place.

The last small step to Darkness near...
If you surrender here,
Your soul will break, the end is clear —
No light will reappear.




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



A Sufi Tale

Fears of Darkness —
News of Light,
Plus the Shackles:
Wild madness’ blight.

Yet it scatters,
Saving Spirit’s flame.
News blows fresh —
The tale’s the same...



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



Kicked-Around Life

No fun without the football game —
Hard to spot “ours” in the fray.
In a world of lies and shame,
Only fandom keeps the gray.

“Life” — a sickness; football’s cure.
It’s so simple, if you see
This realm as a kingdom pure —
“The Realm of Nonsense’ spree.”



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



To the Bottom

Like stone, I sink into the deep —
Drowned in lies that never sleep.
No escape, no place to run —
Herds stumble blind into the sun.

To break the BOTTOM — fiends’ design,
This Earth’s been chained by hands malign.
Just a step from depths so cruel —
Forget the “spark divine” and rule.

Beneath the BOTTOM lies pure Hell,
Where stupid fiends and demons dwell.
Soullessness — their twisted prize,
In Hell, the only true disguise.

Prepare, for countless soulless spawn
Await where light is dead and gone.
If you forsake the goal above,
You'll reap the “cauldrons” and the “shove.”




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



The Grimace of Darkness, or “To Be or Not to Be”

A shabby little world so small,
With minds so weak, so dull, so pall.
But you’re not first, and not alone,
Before the GRIMACE dark has shown.

Into depression, down you fall;
Not first to write the tragic call.
If dreams you chase — you’re deemed insane,
In Darkness, dreaming’s no great strain.

Believe me — “normal” world is bleak,
Its falsehoods strong, its truths so weak.
Forget the lies, the poor, the cursed —
Not helplessness, but worse.

The problem isn’t just to lack,
But solve it firm — and never back.
The only way to break this myth —
Is simply this: NOT TO BE.




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



Digestive Truth

Be firm and sharp — no evil feed,
Reject its poison, block its seed.
Evil cycles, always same,
Fail to see — you play the game.

Fascisms shift their masks and lies,
Changing forms, but truth still dies.
To fools they shove a filthy drip —
A brainwashed mind begins to slip.

To make a rotten mind “the norm,”
Call madness protest — cold, lukewarm.
Old story — fascism’s horde
Devours all, burns every sword.

Expose the beast, resist the blight,
Unequal strength in darkest fight.
Noble souls receive no rest—
Death and torment crown the best.

Be sharp, be firm, be just, be true,
With honor, conscience shining through.
The Darkness chokes when you declare
You won’t become its feed or fare.




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



Look Deep?

“Look deep,” they say —
But the root’s decayed...
You stand lost in fear and pain
Among the graves again:

Zombies finished all,
Lies crushed the wall.
Fools have fallen far below —
To rot where no lights glow.

Inside — the answers wait.
The root? No — light’s the gate.
Outside, for all with “cheers,”
The path is lined with sneers.

Time’s short — don’t walk to rot,
All is lost in that dark spot.
You seek the few, but can’t you find?
How many in the muck, confined?

So few... Go deep inside —
There’s truth where darkness died.




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



We

We—we’re taxmen, Judas crew,
Fools and scum, lost through and through.
Monsters bow to Darkness’ reign—
That’s why all our endless pain.

Few defy the Night’s cold scorn,
All baptized in shame, forlorn.
Rot spreads wide, decay profound,
Mind and Spirit crushed, unbound.

No Last Judgment from the book—
Sun will burn each iron hook
That binds the mind; around, no soul...
Into Flame, these lifeless roll.

Fire fears no soul that's true—
Only shells without a clue
Burn away. That’s Satan’s path,
Claiming gods but stoking wrath.

We—we’re taxmen, Judas slaves:
Forever trapped in Hell’s dark caves.
Few will cross to worlds anew,
Once this cesspool’s burned through.



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



The Brewery Brews the Beer

The brewery brews its beer,
The box of lies stews fear:
“Two in one” — live happy, blind,
Sober truth? You’re left behind.

Cop, official, fake doctor guard,
All protect CowID’s yard.
Enemies surround the scene,
Huge the score — “AIDS” won’t sleep.

Enemies bare teeth, alert,
The box of lies will save—assert.
Trust it and you’re safe, they say,
Doubt it? You’re a lost stray.

Belief in fiends is now the norm,
Anything else? The brain’s deform.
The box brews lies like bitter beer;
The brewery’s God — don’t interfere!




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



Know Yourself

Know yourself — escape the snare,
The alchemy from Hell’s despair.
Hellhounds claim their fleeting prize
When you send yourself to lies,

Seduced by others’ foolish schemes,
Mixed for beasts, not for your dreams,
Your mind eclipsed, lost in the fray.
In Bedlam, be yourself, obey:

Your Spirit’s core — the answering Light,
Reject all that feeds the night.
Say “No” to Hell — begin to break
The chains that bind; your soul’s at stake.

But if you feed on foreign lies,
Your soul, my friend, will surely die.



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



Free Cheese!!!

The world’s a trap — fools rush to seize,
Into the mousetrap with such ease.
If not a sellout, slime you’ll wear —
A broken trough of snot and care.

That trough is cracked, it’s worn and old,
The mousetrap’s lies are bought and sold.
And deeper still — a hidden pit,
A second floor where vultures sit.

Beneath it lies a third abyss,
Dragging down those who still resist.
The stench of this vile world offends —
Is this the world? Or is it hell’s end?




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



To Protest Is No Sin

To protest means you’re not deceived,
Resisting keeps your light retrieved.
But if you moan for no good cause,
You’re foolish — trapped in empty laws.

You won’t obey the dark commands,
And guard your soul with steady hands.
Believe the fiends — you feed the Hell,
Where endless torments make you dwell.

Creation and the fight unite,
When Darkness spreads across the night.
If pride rules and routine’s near,
No spark of art — just empty sneer.




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



David Icke

Watch David Icke, and read him well—
A master versed in fiends’ dark spell.
Dream of Light amid the vile,
Resist the lies and fears that rile.

Dreaming’s weak — you must engage
Your mind, your gut, to break the cage.
This world’s a filth where serpents reign,
Their goal: to kill the soul’s own flame.

The fight must take a different shape,
New paths of thought you must create.
Though troubled years will come and go,
The scum must still be fought — you know.




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



Unread Books

Unread books — just little trash,
Most bind the mind in chains that clash.
Full truth? No chance to get it through—
The editor’s a fiendish crew.

Not an editor, but a beast,
Set by Evil, to say the least.
To feed the rot and spread the blight,
They crush free thought out of sight.

The fewer seeds of meaning found,
The easier to keep minds bound.
So silence every sprout that grows,
And let the dull routine impose.




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



Baron M;nchhausen’s Method

Drowning deep in lies and mire?
There’s a way to rise much higher!
Grab your hair—still hear the light,
Calling through the endless night.

Spirit pulls—you know it’s true,
All the rest is rotten goo.
If you bear the Evil’s spite,
Time to soar into the light!

Pulled upward—now your flight must last,
Far above the shadow cast.
Wretched hell will steal your soul,
If you sink without control.



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



Cataclysms

Cataclysms march—fascism’s stride,
Everywhere it claims its pride.
A half-leader’s cruel enema,
Forced in minds—no true schema.

Friendship’s scarce, almost a myth,
Fascism’s end, its final pith.
Monsters strike with lies precise,
Falsehood reigns—a godlike vice.

Lowest depths now clearly shown,
CowID’s war has deeply grown.
Blood runs cold from filthy lies,
Total shit in truth’s disguise.




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



Ñàìîå âàæíîå íà Çåìëå äåëî — âîñïèòàíèå ðàáîâ

Äî ñìåðòè áîÿòüñÿ æèòü —
"Âîñïèòàíèÿ" îñíîâà.
À ÷òî áóäåò Çëî òðóáèòü,
Ñëóøàòü, èñïîëíÿòü. Îêîâû

 "ðàçóìå" ïðî÷íåé öåïåé,
×òî íàëîæåíû íà òåëî.
Ñ êàæäûì âåêîì âñ¸ ïîäëåé
Ýòî ìåðçîñòíîå äåëî.




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



Äóøà óñèëèÿ ïðèëîæèò —
È ñîõðàíèò ñåáÿ âî Òüìå.
Èíà÷å Ìåðçîñòü óíè÷òîæèò
Äóõ ïîñòåïåííî. "Áå" è "ìå"

Êðóãîì — òî áûëè ëþäè ðàíüøå,
Ïîêà íå ïîêîðèëèñü Çëó.
Óçðè òî ÷ðåç íàâàëû ôàëüøè,
È íå ñëóæè âî Òüìå Êîçëó.

Êîçëó òû ñëóæèøü, åñëè âåðèøü
È èñïîëíÿåøü îáùèé "äîëã",
Îôåðòàì Çëà îòêðûâøè äâåðè,
Èùà â áåçóìíîì ìèðå òîëê.




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



Ïðî íàñòîÿùóþ äðóæáó

"Åñëè òû ðàá, òî íå ìîæåøü áûòü äðóãîì. Åñëè òèðàí — íå ìîæåøü èìåòü äðóçåé".
Ôðèäðèõ Íèöøå.


Ìèô ïðî ëþáîâü è äðóæáó ñòîåê
Ñðåäè ðàáîâ: "Òî íàøå âñ¸!"
Çäåñü òîëüêî îäèíîêèé ñòîèê
Äðóæèòü óìååò ñ... Ïðàâäîé, òåì ñïàñ¸í.




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



Ìãëèñòî — ×èñòî:
Ìèð è Äóõ.
Ïîä ôàøèñòîì
Àä Çëà ñëóã.




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



ÍàäÂðåìÿ

"Ó íàñ áûëî áû âäîâîëü âðåìåíè, åñëè áû åãî íå ñóùåñòâîâàëî".
Ñòàíèñëàâ Åæè Ëåö.


Áåçâðåì`åíüå — Âíåâðåì`¸ííîñòü:
Åñòü Íàä-Âðåìÿ — â í¸ì æèâè,
Ïîçàáûâ âñþ Àäà áðåííîñòü —
Îí çàìåøàí íà êðîâè.




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



The soul must strive — or fade away,
Preserving light in depths of night.
Or else, the Filth will win the day,
And crush the spirit, bleating, "Right."

Once human — now they're hollow shells,
Who bowed before the Beast’s deceit.
See through the fog the False One spells,
And never kneel at Evil’s feet.

You serve the Goat when you comply,
When "duty" leads your blinded track,
When you let Darkness pass you by,
And praise the world that's lost the knack.




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



The most important thing on Earth is the education of slaves

The Earth’s prime task — to raise a slave,
To train the mind to fear the breath.
"Obedience" — the law they crave,
And Evil speaks — you serve to death.

The "mind" they mold with silent chains,
Far stronger than the ones of steel.
With every age, this filth remains —
More vile, more proud of how you kneel.



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



They teach you fear — then call it grace.
You die alive — and love your place.




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


OverTime

Timelessness — beyond the clock,
There’s an Over-Time — dwell there.
Leave behind the hell-bound shock,
Time is soaked in blood and prayer.



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



Time is blood. Step out. Transcend.
Only fools serve such an end.



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



Hazy — Holy:
World and Soul.
Under tyrants —
Hell's control.



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



Fog or Light — you make the call.
Serve the Beast — or stand tall.



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



Soulless slaves

The docile slave goes off to war,
Deceived by lowborn fiends and liars.
He lost his self — and nothing more —
Drowned in a swamp of choking mires.

The docile slave took poison fast,
The fear injected — no resistance.
His life? Just waves of terror, cast
On soul and mind — with no assistance.

The docile slave passed every test —
From schools that dull and numb the brain.
A coward in a suit and vest,
Doomed offspring of a dying chain.

The docile slave breaks his own sons,
So they obey like broken tools.
And thus the breeding never's done —
Of soulless slaves for soulless rules.



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



They train the kids to crawl and bow —
No soul remains. Just meat — for now.



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



Cargo fascism

For “Motherland”? For Putler’s crew —
For yachts and gilded halls.
Cargo-fascism — evil’s zoo,
Dumb beasts in Hitler’s thralls.

A colony now plays pretend —
To be an empire bold.
Its madness bares a rotten end —
Insanity grown cold.

**You “win” in asylums only —
No more than that, you see.
**The nation sleeps, defeated, lonely —
It kills its own soul silently.



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



You "fight for pride"? You die for gold.
The slave obeys — the lie grows bold.



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



Something like "ethology"

"Ethology"? Not meant for souls
Born in hell but bearing light.
The fiendish horde plays twisted roles,
With “science” cloaked in fake insight —
Rotting lies in scholar’s scrolls.

“Psychology” — the devil’s dish,
Served by ghouls with soulless eyes.
These vampires drain the will to wish,
And breed dumb crowds through age-old lies.

Freuds and other twisted freaks
Have clouded mind and dimmed the flame.
But if for Freedom your heart speaks —
Then damn their tales and name their shame.



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



They feed you Freud and call it truth —
While sucking dry your soul and youth.



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



White "Papuans"

The “tribals” smile and nod along,
To every lie, to every wrong.
Dumbed down and stripped of every clue —
The wise, to them, are threats to sue.

There’s hordes of these — the witless kind,
Half-formed in body, lost in mind.
A real tribe lives with soul and ground,
Not in this slaughterhouse compound.

They turn whole nations into pens,
By threats alone — no need for sense.
The lies are cheap, absurdly stale,
Yet mass-produced beyond the pale.

Their ornaments aren’t beads or clay —
But filthy lies they wear all day.
They swallow every twisted word,
Like beasts who never found the third.

**And every forecast ends in grief —
Dull minds beyond our bold belief.
**That’s why this world — so proud, so cursed —
Devours its lies and asks for worse.



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



They bow to lies and call it fate.
The beast obeys — the wise breed hate.




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



Overton's Gap

A window breaks —
“Progress,” they claim.
But evil makes
The rules — and game.

The pressure grows,
No end in sight.
To feast on those?
Not “normal” — right?

But norms decay —
The door's ajar.
You’ll eat one day...
But death beats that by far.



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



“Progress” shouts through shattered glass —
While Hell reshapes the feeding class.



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



Something like "this is where souls gain experience"?

“Souls gain experience here”?
What twisted kind of joke?!
Hell is no school — it’s sheer
Abuse beneath the smoke.

If torment breeds “new wisdom,”
Then reason’s lost its name.
A demon wears the system
And teaches souls through shame?

No! Hell must be dismantled —
That’s truth the Spirit knows.
This filth is not to “handle,”
But burned — till nothing grows.



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



No soul needs Hell to learn what's true —
It burns the weak, enslaves the few.



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



Absurd

“Songs” and “dances” on command —
Fascist circus, vile and planned.
“Sing” obedience, bow your knees,
Like new “Germans” in the breeze.

New F;hrer wears a mask,
Chains unchanged — the same old task:
Propaganda, cops, and scum,
Thugs who crawl and beat the drum.

Sing, dance — forget the pain,
But once you’ve lost your mind’s domain,
You’re scurf beneath their cruel clutch,
And villains tear where skin is such.



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



Sing lies, bow down, forget your shame —
The fascist dance plays still the same.



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



Now...

Today, the Satanists speak loud —
Dr. Goebbels set the stage.
New fascists gather like a crowd,
A spiral down of rage.

The F;hrer’s smaller, weaker now,
The law of rot’s in play.
Only skins survive somehow,
While minds just fade away.

The trend is clear: a global camp,
A deathhouse dressed in lies.
Red Cross on white — a cruel stamp
For those with fractured minds.



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



New fascists speak with devil’s voice —
Decay's law claims, no other choice.




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



Change

Poison runs deep in veins —
Decay’s own venom flows.
This is our cursed age —
A spiteful, traitor’s show.

Few the minds that still survive,
The Spirit trapped in gloom.
Is this a nightmare’s lie,
This crushing heap of doom?



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



Poison floods the veins of time —
A cursed age, a rotten crime.



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



Propaganda

Death squads march in shadows deep —
Propaganda’s choking grip.
Think for yourself or just believe?
Or mind will take the trip.

Faith will turn against the soul,
To creatures foul and cruel.
Lies and fear beyond control —
Disaster is the rule.



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



Dark squads kill with lies and fear —
Mindless faith feeds death’s frontier.



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



New Fascism

Dr. Goebbels, new and sly —
The F;hrer’s just a clown.
A loser bred to falsify,
No rank can keep him down.

The zombibox rules the mind —
The clown leads media’s game.
Decay of thought, they grind,
Darkness needs a broken frame.

Lies are fascism’s sharpest blade.
It’s always been this way.
Now lies flood deep, a super-lax,
Washing brains in endless sway.

The Spirit’s cast out too —
This genocide’s core truth.
All signs of doom emerge anew,
When Mind’s been killed in youth.

Unnoticed, it creeps close —
As always, stealthy, cold.
One final step — the New Camp calls,
Forever to hold.



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



New Goebbels, clown F;hrer’s face —
Lies the weapon, mind’s disgrace.



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



"Collective Goebbels"

The “Collective Goebbels” now —
Putler led the vile start.
Lies spread wide, they’ll burn somehow
The world of fools and bought hearts.

Few are sane — genocide grows,
Its fruits feed death’s parade.
So all is lost when scum compose
The crowd that’s blindly swayed.

Only feelings rule the herd —
The deer’s mark, pure and clear.
“Intellect” is just a word
For others’ thoughts they cheer.



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



Collective Goebbels — Putler’s spawn,
Lies so thick, the truth is gone.
Masses numb, a walking herd,
Brains dead, minds crushed by every word.

Few still think — the rest decay,
Genocide’s dark price they pay.
If the scum run all the show,
Hope is lost — just so you know.

Feelings reign, the deer all blind,
“Intellect” is left behind.
They worship lies, not their own mind —
Slaves to fools, forever blind.



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



With "Greetings"...

I come to you with “greetings” grim —
Without madness, life’s a lie.
Falsehood answers all, so dim —
Easy way to break the mind.

So liars mad, a throng amassed,
In Hell’s world they claim their throne.
No tridents needed for the task —
Just deceit to rule alone.

Darkness reigns on every side,
Fools obey and bow in fear.
What’s the end? No place to hide —
Hell is built, the path is clear.



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



Served right, if vile Evil's snare
Has trapped you, banishing your core,
Making you a trusting bear,
Believing filth you can't ignore.

The truth is simple: Spirit Pure —
Foundation strong, the Mind obeys.
Shun the Hell’s enslaving lure,
Respect only intuition’s ways.

It serves the Spirit, sharp and bright—
Don’t you blink, don’t lose your way.
The world has sunk below the night—
Root out fear, let it decay.

There’s a way: go deep inside,
You’ll find the edge where lies dissolve.
Where terror fails, and doubts subside—
Only Spirit stands, alive and bold.



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



About True Friendship

“If you’re a slave, you cannot be a friend.
If you’re a tyrant, friendships meet their end.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche


The myth of love and friendship stands—
A fable held by slavish hands:
“To us, it’s all, our sacred call!”
But only the lone stoic walks tall,

He alone can forge a bond
With Truth itself — the soul beyond.




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



ÓÑÒÀËÎÑÒÜ — íå ìàëîñòü:
Íåäîëãî îñòàëîñü.
Íî ïðî÷ü ê ñåáå æàëîñòü —
Êëåéìè Îäè÷àëîñòü!..



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



Äåãðàäàöèÿ â Õðåíè Çëà

Õðåíü — Çëà Òåíü:
Äóìàòü ëåíü =>
Ñòàë êàê ïåíü.

Âàðèàíò ïîñëåäíåé ñòðîêè. "Ñòàíåøü Çëó ïîñëóøíûé ïåíü".
 




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



Ïî÷òè ïòè÷üå...

Öûïë¸íîê æàðåíûé —
Âî Ëæè îòâàðåííûé,
Çàòåì íà Ñòðàõå
Ïðîæàðåí. Í`à õåð
Ïîøëè îáû÷àé
Áåçóìíûé ïòè÷èé:
Äëÿ Äóõà êðûëüÿ —
Ïîõåðü "áåññèëüå".
 




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



Ñîâåñòü ïîõóé —> õèòðîñòü ñëåäîì.
Õèòðîñòü ðàñòâîðÿåò óì,
Òîëüêî ìåëêèå  "ïîáåäû"
Íå äàþò ïîíÿòü òî. Øóì

Ìèðà äàëüøå çàñëîíÿåò
Ïðîáëåñê ìûñëè. Äåãðàäàíò,
Âïðî÷åì, ìåñòî çàíèìàåò,
Ó êîðìóøêè êàê ãèãàíò.




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



The Executioners’ Lie

A drop of “truth” in poison brewing,
Laced with petty bits and scraps —
That’s how demons keep on stewing
Lies for butchers, traps for saps.

Earth is steeped in toxic potion —
Layered thick through age and age.
Fumes distort the mind’s devotion,
Till man dies in war or cage.

Bullet, axe — that’s grown outdated.
Boost the lie — and crack the skull.
Not with scars — with minds invaded,
Turn the world to screaming dull.

Watch them gnaw each other, bleeding —
War and CowID showed the trend.
Not a world — a rot, unheeding.
Bow to it — and that's your end.

Bow — and sell your soul completely.
Trust in Evil — you’re a clown.
Friend, ignore the lies discreetly —
Buy their tale — they’ll gun you down.




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



Lie-fed and Led

A drop of truth — then poison reigns.
Obey the lie — they fry your brains.
Bow to rot — your soul is sold.
Truth resists. The rest grows cold.




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



The So-Called “Deep Folk”

"Deep people," you say?
More like scum on display —
Idiots, loonies, the proudly insane.
The Kremlin keeps lying,
They march off to dying —
CowID, then war. Drown in sorrow and pain.

And the "smart" ones? A joke.
If he lies — he's a crook.
A traitor, a worm, worth less than a dime.
And the herd? Growing fast.
The liar? Outclassed —
More twisted each day.
But speak truth — that’s a crime:
You’ll rot in a cell doing fascist-fed time...




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



Deep Folk? Deep Rot.

They die for lies and call it pride.
Truth gets jailed. The rest — just slide.
Bow to fear — or rot inside.



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



The Wachowski Sister-Brothers

Brothers once — now sisters proud.
Trends demand it. Shout it loud!
Questions? Trash them. Truth is banned.
Lie with style — that’s what they planned.

Simple lies? That’s just a start.
You need clout to play the part.
Dare stay honest? Here's your fate:
They’ll stamp “madness” on your slate.

In this madhouse, if they brand
Your true work as “out of hand,”
It just reeks of higher vision —
And they know — those built on fiction.

Trends bring profit, fame, and power.
Truth brings noose and final hour.
Freaks devour rot like kings —
Earth is weeping at these things.

Truth means quake and revelation,
Doom approaching every breath.
Trends are tools of new damnation,
New-fascism — dumb peasants' death.



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


Trend or Truth?

Trends bring gold — and lies that burn.
Truth brings death. No one will learn.
Feed the freaks. Let Earth be cursed.
New-fascism wears a rainbow first.



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



Conscience Gone — Then Comes the Scheming

First goes conscience — then comes guile.
Guile dissolves the mind in style.
Tiny “wins” bring petty cheer,
While the truth stays far from clear.

Worldly noise keeps thought in chains,
Blocks the spark that might remain.
Yet the fool, in full display,
Feeds like king — and leads the way.



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


Rot Rises

Kill your soul — then fake your brain.
Fools get fat. The wise are slain.



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



They’ll Tear You Apart!

A trembling slave
Clings to his cave —
His “precious” trash,
Already ash.

He cannot see
That tyranny
Designed this pit —
The world’s unfit.

His trash decays,
His soul betrays —
Rot to the core,
A fool, a boar.

And fools like him
Fuel fascist whims,
The coward herd
Obeys each word.

One pinch more fear,
One whisper near —
They’ll tear you down!
The lies still drown...



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



Fool's End

A slave in fear is fascist clay.
Add one more lie — he starts to slay.



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



In the Pen

Is the piglet slightly muddied —
Or deep-smeared from snout to tail?
Still, the pig can’t grasp it fully:
Lies are god — and truth is jail.

Filth and waste define the pen,
Bathe in slop — then eat again.
Trust the swineherd! Hear his preaching —
There’s your “truth” and final teaching.

Swineherds serve to keep you fed,
'Til the slaughter claims your head.
All the myths of sty and glory —
“Feast and sing” — that’s their whole story.



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


Swine Truth

In filth they feast and praise the knife.
The herd calls slaughter “truth” and “life.”



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



Obey. Get Slaughtered.

You eat their lies, you cheer their whip.
You trust the hand that drains you drip by drip.
No thought, no truth — just grunt and chew.
They kill — and call it good for you.



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



Truth for Swine:
Eat. Obey. Die. Hooray.



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



Degrade in Crap of Evil

Crap — the Shadow of Evil:
Too lazy to think —
You’re just a stink.




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



Rot and Stupor

Evil’s crap — no thought remains.
Brain turns stump, mind dies in chains.