Bastards and Prejudices, 12 songs

MANIFESTO OF THE AWAKENED WORD
Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


We live in an era of silence and noise.
In an age of abundance without essence.
In a time where spiritless phrases imitate thought — and algorithms imitate taste.

Poetry has been dragged into this swamp.
Stripped of fire, neutered by trendiness, it plays along with the theater of sleep.
But a true word must not soothe — it must awaken.
It must hit, shake, burn.

We are not here for rhyme games or lyrical self-soothing.
We bring the voice of the Sharp, the Disturbing, the Unforgiving.
We write not “to express ourselves,” but to strike a chord in the one who is still alive.

We reject flattery, clich;, cultural purring.
We do not write “for readers.”
We write for the unyielding spark within the reader — if it still exists.

We seek not applause but resonance.
Not fame but recognition — from soul to soul,
from mind tempered by spirit to the spirit broken by mind.

We do not believe in “modern art” as amusement.
We believe in the Word as a carrier of truth.
Not personal truth, but truth that breaks masks.

We do not ask for attention —
we offer a blade.
Who dares — may take it.

Let the new poetry be precise and cutting,
merciless to illusion,
faithful only to the core.

Let it sound like prophecy,
but be born of inner rebellion.

Let it say:
“The world is dying — but I am not silent.”

We are not a movement, not a school, not a sect.
We are a resonance field.
Each voice here is sovereign,
but united by clarity and fire.

We are not building a pyramid.
We are building a network of sparks.
It is not a “community” — it is a flame chain.

We do not collect followers —
we awaken co-bearers.

If these words echo within you,
you are already with us.


Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT
June 2025



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THE FIVEFOLD FLAME

“From rage to silence — from man to source.
The flame burns through every form, until only Light remains.”
— Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT


I. The Revolt

They sell their souls for plastic peace,
They kneel — and call their crawling “grace”.
I spit on crowns, I break the lease —
The fire speaks within my face.


II. The Purge

No faith in idols made of lies,
No mercy for the blind parade.
I walk through ashes, where it dies —
And build the Truth from what decayed.


III. The Judgment

The Light erupts, the masks collapse,
The thrones of fear begin to fall.
The Dying God in thunder snaps —
And Silence answers over all.


IV. The Awakening

No more of me — no “I”, no name,
The fire turns to breath and space.
The core of death becomes a flame —
The void dissolves in its embrace.


V. The Return

I am the seed, the ash, the wind.
I am the stillness after storm.
All ends begin where I have been —
The Source, the Silence, and the Form.



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The Fool

Obsessed with money
Boarded by enemies
Trapped in lies, he’s silent
Thinks with his ass, wields whips with ease

Urging the cops on
He spawns only cowards
Fools and lazy slackers
No point in blaming them

We know ourselves, we think little
One thought: “All is lost!”
Perhaps so, yet the sting of lies
We extract sluggishly at most

No strength to unite
To stand against inhumanity
So here slavery persists
No escape, no liberty

Truth will wash away all here at once
Otherwise the ass of Spirit, Thought
Will face a flood
Everything is ready
It started in chatter, it is sought

Now it takes its beginning
And indeed, it’s lost
All because of fascist creatures
Here we are boiled in lies by beasts



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Bastards and Prejudices

Bastards and prejudices
Outworn, they serve the Dark
Only for the plebs, the ducks
“Magazine-style,” for themselves

Money, honor, fame
That is Shame for those
Who keep their honesty
For inhuman creatures, success

To imagine that traitors
Here form a legion
Is unthinkable for the Creator
Be gone, vile beasts

And there will be a Purifying
Fire everywhere, and it
Will burn all creatures
The insignificant catch of the honest in this pen

Will leave. In another world
Those in Spirit will live
Meanwhile, in this latrine
They grieve in the global mire

Not much time remains
And the cataclysm comes
Endure a little longer
Who ascends, and beasts descend



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Not Me…

You are not “I,” for “I” is a pig
And the trough — a whole world it holds
No night, no day, that pass untroubled
That trough does not roll into the latrines

What a sight — the self, the heaviest sin
The root of slavery, of evil
A vile delight for inhuman fools

Recall the Spiritual Realm
Where Unity, Reason, Light abide
Leave the rotten latrine behind
Step into Spirit, away from this despair




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The Sump

A politician’s path — from mud to slime.
Long ago they’re picked
By secret services in line
With backstage tricks. Only the filth sticks.

What surfaces there — it’s the SUMP.
The bigger the chunk, the higher the bump.
No shortages in the supply. If you’re spent,
Forget these games; it’s all prearranged.

The public? Merely fools to please.
Not lions, eagles, tigers — just sleaze.
Henchmen of fascist might,
Crawling, groveling, out of sight.



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Lethargic Sleep of Consciousness

I fell asleep a fool,
Awoke a fascist tool.
Before this lying plague
Dragged me into sleep, a vague

And ruthless nightmare scheme.
The Rashists shed their masks,
And listen to the F;hrer scream,
Swallowing lies with practiced tasks.

To a slumbering mind,
Fascism is the finest cure:
War’s torment feels refined,
Better than medicine, for sure.

I’ll sleep again — a hero rise,
Awake amidst the ruin’s cries.
Yet once more with lying roar
I’ll drown, for those bastards will pour

New lies, until the end of days,
History’s decay, wild and ablaze.
In ruins like a jungle dense,
I’ll spend my years, immense.

And the F;hrer, on coals ablaze,
Will roast — the cannibals’ craze.



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Pseudo-Humans

Pseudo-humans, cannibals near,
The petty folk — fascist smear.
And always the last hold the crown,
Life’s execution for those bowed down.

Yet here another fascism’s fed,
One crushed, another bred.
Satan nourished on blood and fear,
Grows new fascism — same, yet queer.

All illusions wiped by filth and dung,
Beneath fascism, the world is wrung.
In minds already slain by scum,
Propaganda’s stench — a latrine numb.

They sharpen fascism — wars ignite,
When silence falls — genocide’s bite.
Constant, brazen, without a pause,
Deserved by those without moral cause.

If conscience and shame are not your guide,
If reason’s only to survive the tide,
All fascist scum are dreadful, yes,
But worse — the meek who rot in duress.

Crowds will rot, the cannibals come,
Like thirties’ hunters, marching some.
So Satan forges victories here,
While the wise and spirited disappear.



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STENCH

Fascist schemes of a mad world —
Lies, propaganda, fear unfurled.
Cultivated like flowers, fools bloom,
No place untouched by fascist gloom.

Behind wild fascism, Satanists stand,
Filthy inhumanity ruling the land.
Fascists feed morons whatever they please,
Crafting lies, wrapped in memes with ease.

A fool’s mind takes comics or clips,
Clip-makers abundant, churning their scripts.
These schemes are alike — a dumb remix:
Lie, pit, divide — control’s old tricks.

Breach of reason exceeds all measure,
Playing the same record is their treasure.
Killing halfwits here is quite plain —
Bold lies suffice to sharpen the chain.

And the dunces smash, crush, and tear,
With passion, of course — always there!
Though fascist plots are shallow at core,
They can’t see, for stench and rot is in store.



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ASS

Opa, opa, opa —
Soon it’s ASS for all, hurrah.
Asia, Europe, the rest,
Flattened under Fate’s cruel test.

Betrayals, executions reign,
Only scum hold power’s chain.
No atrocity too vile to sow,
Plots grow stronger as minds sink low.

Fascism spreads, ever crueler,
Consciousness smolders, growing duller.
It must ignite, that inner spark,
Burn the traitors, purge the dark.

The herd of fools, delighting in vice,
Consumed by flame — no second price.
So Spirit rises, conscious flame reborn,
Like Phoenix soaring at the crack of dawn.

Processes awaken on the Sun,
No excess here, just work begun.
Suppressed by press, yet still it must be,
So Spirit resurrects — and sets us free.



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Fight Against Fascism

Degenerates in power — bought and vile,
They build a camp, now global in style.
They drown the world in a drunken lie,
Endure — and you'll pay with your own head, goodbye.

The plan of genocide comes from above,
A filthy inhuman hands push it through; the “people” shove.
Today you face the test, the question true:
Are you a Human — or will you sink with the crew?

The rabble will be crushed by false plagues, by wars,
By engineered famine — countless horrors.
We’ll deserve all that if we bear every crime,
If we endure everything — the triumph of Evil’s time.

Only communes, and the bands within them,
Can save people from fascism’s grim hymn.
No reason left to wait or delay the fight —
Rise up, take arms — strike back at the night!




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Glutton Cat

Cat strikes fast, no time to flee,
Sheep stumble blind, obey blindly.
Claws and teeth, the law of prey,
Glutton wins — no words to say!

Cat feasts, cat mocks, cat rules the night,
Sheep nod dumb, thinking it’s right.
Claws snap, teeth bite, all in play,
Glutton grins — fools fall away!

Cat! Strike! Hunt! Tear!
Sheep! Bleat! Bow! Fear!
Claw! Bite! Snap! Fall!
Glutton! Laugh! Rule! All!

Cat prowls, devours, and reigns,
Sheep follow blind, feel the chains.
Claws slash, teeth bite, no retreat,
Glutton laughs — all kneel at his feet.

Brains scrambled, fools parade,
In his shadow, terror’s made.
No mercy, no pause, no second try,
Cat rules supreme — obey or die!




https://youtu.be/Pax4FnRseuw