30 poems

The City

Corruption took a different shape —
It oozed like concrete mortar,
And hardened into glass and stone —
Behold: the city’s order.

This city’s built to see you dead —
Its core is rot and poison.
The herds obey with empty heads,
No minds, no will, no voices.

True thought and boldness? Only there —
In films of bleak seduction.
Cash rules, and all the rest’s hot air,
So dreams meet swift destruction.

If you refuse to serve and sell
Your mind to filthy swine —
If lies and praise of filth repel —
You won’t survive its line.



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City of Scum

The city's built on lies and rot —
Obey, betray — or you are not.



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Stimulating Salivation of the Cretin Population

Salivation’s rising —
That’s the daily goal:
Teach the herd to swallow
Garbage by the bowl.

Fresh new slop is flooding —
Open wide, you freak!
You deserve this mudslide
If you call it chic,

If you take the ninth wave
Of lies as holy bread,
Lick this fascist butchery,
Praise what keeps you fed.

Genocide and dinner —
All in one, you see.
Welcome to rock bottom:
Idiot as decree.

That’s the proud conclusion.
Now the scum holds sway.
God has left this planet —
Filth runs it today.



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Rodents and Chips

Chip and Dell are rushing in —
Time to drill into your head.
Neural ports are now the skin,
Weak and useless if not fed.

Lie to mice without delay,
No unplugging, no reprieve —
Shit straight into their brain, and pray,
As Hell prepares to take its leave.



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The Reality of Fascist Regimes

The Regime’s reality?
Insanity on blast.
They rule through pure brutality —
The country breaks so fast.

Each crisis is designed in full,
Pre-scripted, well-prepared,
By traitors in their cushy roles —
Vice-chairs and creeps who dared

To push the genocide ahead,
Unleashing planned collapse,
While people chew the verbal shit
These scumbags feed en masse.

That shit replaces fridges now —
No food, just slogans stink.
The herd’s too dumb to wonder how
They’re tricked with doublethink.

A fascist rule, through and through,
Yet branded "kind" and "just".
One slick-tongued snake steps out of view —
Another comes. Disgust.



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Demons from the Brainwash Box

Hysterical demons scream from the screen —
Don't watch too long… then switch it back on.
They’re real-life crazies — no in-between —
Yet hold the keys to every moron.

The idiots' gaze is blurred and blind —
The hosts, the critics — full-on insane.
But when lies pour in and you're dulled in mind,
It all seems normal. Rot eats the brain.

The crazies and viewers — no dissonance here,
The editor’s loony, the tone’s psychotic.
Fear and falsehoods, shrill and sincere —
The whole damn thing’s demonic, neurotic.

The madness now hits such a pitch,
You can feed them any rot — they’ll swallow.
You can't cure the herd, they're too far gone —
Nine-tenths already in the hollow.

This isn’t a “society” — it’s rot. It’s a ward.
A global asylum, well underway.
If you’re smart — you're a threat. If you're dumb — adored:
A slave-link in chains, to obey and obey.



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Clouds of Lies

A f*ck-ton of bullshit,
A thick, sickening cloud
Of total deceit —
Goebbels would be proud.
Now it’s worse than ever,
Lies like poisoned steam,
Foam of mass delusion
In the builder’s scheme.

Hard to break the sealing —
You’re imprisoned tight.
Scum in charge is dealing
Fascism in daylight.

Putler’s just a clone,
Hitler’s comeback show.
Cretinism's grown —
Now it runs the flow.

Crowds have lost all reason,
Staring into screens.
Even magic genies
Can’t fix shattered beings.



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Vegetables

They fear the veggies might rebel —
So Cipollino’s getting banned.
The creatures purge with eager hands —
Even Pinocchio won’t sell.

The age of wonder’s dead and gone —
These bastards took it all by force.
And fools now praise their foul discourse,
Call all this filth “the rising dawn.”

The "nation" worships every fraud,
Still dreams of F;hrers and cheap loans.
While modern Goebbels types applaud
And crush the minds, and break the bones.



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Circles of Hell

Rock bottom’s shattered — smashed to dust.
Below it lies a deeper pit:
A brand-new Hell, where lies are just
The rules, and filth is top-grade shit.

Dante's tales have come alive —
Seventh ring… or is it eight?
We rolled into this dive and strife,
Headfirst into a twisted fate.

No mind left — just open sores.
No life — just rot and choking gas.
And what’s the end? Pure fascist whores,
A herd of sheep and brainless mass.



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"Brave New World"

A “brave new world” of orders,
Idiocy and “care.”
Stay ready for the bastards’ orders —
Become their dumb, blind square.

The fascists promise “care” —
They’ll jab their slaves with junk.
These silver-tongued despots dare
To lead the fatal funk.

Build your own world — stand alone —
Or they’ll dispose of you.
If smart and spiritual — prone
To think — you won’t break through.



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Infernal Roundabout

Fast trains spinning ‘round and ‘round —
The CowID dance of hell.
Once healer, now you’re just a hound,
A crawling filthy shell.

You joined the scum in wicked streams,
From fake-AIDS to this game,
No glory, little pay for schemes —
The bastard’s price is shame.

Your conscience crushed, long dead and gone,
You march with filth in line.
Together to the depths you’re drawn —
The devil’s dance divine.



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In Hell

Don’t expect care from fascism’s hand,
Nor think Hell’s pain is just by chance:
It’s legacy of traitors’ brand,
A slave’s vile, rotten circumstance.

You’re born at war, no mercy shown.
The meaning in this Hell’s to fight.
Though two-thirds scum around have grown —
You stand alone — resist the blight.



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The End is Coming

A fox-fur coat,
A palace, gold and glow —
Won’t save your skin —
The end will show.

Write your poems,
Better curse them loud —
Too many traitors —
The end’s a fucking cloud.



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The Double Scum

Putler’s double, scum and slime,
Waging wars and CowID crime.
Filthy mouthpiece, Kremlin’s tool —
Where conscience dies, they rule the fool.

In minds and souls, a frozen glaze,
The herd is easy prey to lies.
They multiply the rotten schemes —
All else ignored, no hope redeems.



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The Sail and TNT Reserve

Strike true — that’s ironclad, they say,
But what if aim’s a crooked game?
Critical thought will light the way:
You’ll see the world’s a restless flame.

Only bursts of pure creation
Can brighten all this endless gloom.
Though breakthroughs come in rare vibration,
They’re better than the choking doom.

All lies and sludge in madness swirl —
Yet shards of truth may still be found.
Believe the Lyre’s blood-stained twirl,
Its song of pain and sacred sound.

Now’s the time for one big blast —
Blood poisoned deep, the search refined.
Trust only intuition’s mast —
The Spirit’s sail: its course aligned.



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Death for Death

A filthy plague —
The universe’s shame —
Descended to the Earth,
And spread its deadly flame.

Centuries roll by —
Of shame and slavery’s chain.
No end yet seen
To this vile reign.

The river’s dried —
The free spirit’s gone.
The pain is deep.
Flies swarm on.

Dark clouds of terror
Hover overhead,
On soil still fresh,
Though covered in dread.

They bring from above
A ruthless death,
So close, so fierce —
Hell’s hardened breath.

But hell’s hard ground
Is just a show —
It can be wiped out,
If your hand won’t slow —

To die with it.
The shameful ages
Will sink away.
Though the path is harsh,
Follow the way:

Death for death.
Though the cost is great,
The cycle falls —
Genocide’s fate.



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The Universal “Brother”

The great Melton, “Uncle Styopa,”
A cousin, godfather, just before,
Promoted now — the Universal Brother —
Ruling us with force and hollow lore.

Universal — yes, for countries, towns
Are just barracks, cages, nothing more.
Muzzles on cattle everywhere,
Show clearly: you’re in a fake land’s core.

A land where only total fools breathe free,
Where only fascist scum run wild.
He keeps men scared, half proud but crushed,
Before the thugs who rule the wild.

The price of “pride” is a stinking pot —
Lies for guarantees, a freedom joke.
No more absurdity — not a bullet,
Just less comfort for the bloated folk.

The world’s a herd of cattle now,
Driven meat for demons’ feast.
And only one way out remains:
Blow it up — burn down the beast.

If you’re just meat, then who gives a damn
How big the fire’s rage will be?
Better one that wipes it clean —
Erases shame, decay, debris.

No options left to take instead:
Only Fire to burn the lying world,
The spawn of Evil, idiot’s god —
Where twisted lies and madness swirl.



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The Inevitable Death of Pinocchio

Once lived Pinocchio
In a land of fools.
The wooden puppet
Faced few cruel rules.

But his long nose
Couldn’t fit the mask.
That milk-faced kid
Got caught in the task.

Better had he caught a plague,
A heavy, nasty blight —
Lost his nose at once,
But that’s a gentler plight.

Fake doctor, cop —
Not fox or cat:
In a single moment
They’ll send him flat.

A vaccine for nothing
Will strike him down dead.
So many hidden poisons
He never once read.

In this cattle chaos,
Long noses don’t last.
You’ll die — no questions —
No foes, just fast.



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Turn Back from the Gates!

Reason fights and struggles hard
Within the cage called “I.”
Feeding ravenous darkness —
The crow’s unyielding cry.

Still it hopes for saving grace:
A messiah to arrive.
But nothing changes by itself —
From Heaven’s gates, turn and dive!

The world convulses, foul and broke,
The enemy’s in the mind, not doors.
The end is bleak, a bitter yoke —
Degrade, dissolve, disorder roars.

Feeding like cattle to the scum,
The ravenous fiends prevail.
Humans fall for stupid lies —
Once more they fail the tale.

Though humans? No — like beasts, enslaved,
Yoked under crushing load.
And only worse will come ahead —
All dragged down into the mud.

One choice remains: burn all this mess —
Defy the weight of pain,
Forge hellish flames to cleanse the wreck —
Break free from loss and chain.

Perish with foes and shame alike,
Expose the rotten core.
The rest is yours: choose devil’s path,
Or God’s — forevermore.



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Demons Rule the World

“We aim to be all Napoleons:
Millions of two-legged pests
Are but our single weapon.” —
Pushkin’s words attest.

Every louse learns rules of this cruel game
Once it escapes decay’s embrace.
No longer dreams of astral planes,
But Saint Helena’s isolated place.

Then these rules spread wide and far
To prisoners caught in dull deceit,
A trap so stupid, it’s a cosmic farce —
Laughter echoes through the infinite.

A game where lies and savage genocide
Become the slaves’ grim daily bread,
From birth no one escapes the shame,
The chains, the rot that bind the dead.

A game whose goal is to snuff out
All God’s sparks that light the mind,
To choke off reason at its root,
So all become the cattle blind.

But only by blowing Hell apart —
Destroying masters and the slaves —
Comes the science to reclaim the heart,
And break the chains that death engraves.



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TECH-nical Regression

Calculator,
Computer —
Era of the internet,
TV,
Mobile phones —
A Golgotha of mind’s debt.

In a world of genocide,
Progress is no friend.
Monsters need decay,
Regression to the end.

Vampires crave it,
For digital chains to bind.
That’s why it’s pushed so hard —
For filth of every kind.

What’s ready long ago
Is rushed into the fray,
To drag us all down low,
Turn bright to foul decay.

A prison for the slave
Can never be a home.
We’re doomed if we can’t save
The path where freedom’s grown.

Only communities,
United, pave the way —
Where all are one,
And that’s the truth to stay.



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Virtuality

A paper kite flew into the land,
Scaring off the ancient old.
Then mocked and danced on shifting sand —
Birthed a freak from lies untold.

A virtual freak...

At first it seems just comfort’s face,
A stream of knowledge, fun and play.
But really it’s a prison’s case —
A digital camp, locked away.

Where all are branded slave’s disgrace,
Driven to the stalls of doom.
A fate for all, no love, no fight,
A silent death in coded tomb.

But fight remains, while fear’s undone —
Kill the slave inside your mind.
No guns will save what must be won,
But communities, alive and kind.

Through living talk and common toil,
Rebirth will rise, the beast destroyed.
The octopus of neo-fascist spoil,
Genocide’s base, the demon’s void.



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The Toilet

“Freedom of speech” steps in —
Choking tight your throat.
Filth rules with wild lies,
With promises of hope.

The people blindly trust
The promises of dogs —
Politicians who reap their rent,
Polluting minds with fog.

They shit and shit — these beasts,
The world’s a toilet bowl.
To seek truth in this shitpile —
Shit’s just shit, the same old role.



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The Beauty of the Latrine

“Beauty will save the world,”
They say, while dressing lies.
Now this latrine’s a shooting range —
A pitiful disguise.

This little world’s a sewer pit,
Where people mean no more.
Ruled by scum who don’t exist —
No minds, just hollow core.



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The Backup Dance

To “dance backup”… to be reshaped,
Is very easy, as you see:
Just serve the evil, praise the fake,
And trust the lies and lunacy.

So many lies, so vile the game —
Yet the foul slave still dances on,
Weak-minded, meek, with broken flame —
The slave’s own mind is nearly gone.

Just simple moves, just fluff and trash,
This is decay in petty souls.
This forging breaks the spirit’s flash —
A swarm of dung-born stupid trolls.



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Sunday Joke

Sunday comes,
To the pub I stray,
Pissed on the fence —
Jealousy’s play.

Wife again,
Kids I blame.
On TV’s screen —
Chaos and shame.

Mad world spins —
No beer’s enough!
Fence turned toilet —
That’s the stuff.



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Kind of "New Year's"

The year’s gone down the drain —
A dead man’s cure in vain.
A world in slow decay,
Where honor’s thrown away.

Where Conscience penned and trapped,
Mind and Spirit snapped.
Misery marches wide,
Killing reason’s pride.



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Weeds and Wild Grass

The whole expanse is overgrown
With weeds and wild grass far and wide.
The “hares” just “mow” — this madhouse throne,
Where madness rules, no place to hide.

Only death will set them free —
Release them from their fear and lies.
Forget the pain and misery —
Their moaning silenced in the skies.



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The Sheepish Eugenics of Human Nature

In memory of Velimir Khlebnikov

All hail the freedoms of the horse,
And equal rights for lowly cows.

For years the breeding runs its course —
Fascists reap their bloody vows.
From sheepish eugenics’ cursed hand,
Human heads grow fewer still.

A muzzle made for soulless bands,
To mark the devils at the feast,
Dumb slaves, the herd with empty hands —
And lies are weapons for the beast.

A fake virus splits the grain,
From chaff of mindless, soulless drones.
Then comes the order: “No masks — kill!
Drag to wards, and vaccinate the bones.”

What’s left for man — though torn apart,
Tired but fighting to the last?
To gather strength, to stand, to start
A final fight before the past.

Before death comes, unite as one,
Draw fire down upon your soul.
The Earth will rise when battle’s done,
And honor pay the priceless toll.




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Profanation

Dot, dot, comma —
A dull face drawn.
Stick, stick, cucumber-shaped line —
A Euclid man is born.

Parallel lines
Never cross in here,
So all are dull,
And filled with sneer.

Not flexible minds,
But rigid rule,
They stand in line —
An “arithmetic” school.

This tidy row
Sweeps all away,
Crushes those
Who won’t obey.

Drives them into pens,
Then off to slaughter,
They follow laws
That serve their order.

Dull and fearful,
They’ll jab a sickly sting,
Believing lies
Like it’s some joke thing.