56 poems

Crop Circles

A pattern in fields — nearly miles across wide,
And circles in forests — bent pines side by side.
“Pseudoscience?” — no, it’s belief dressed as fact.
A drunk fool will swallow whatever they pack.

And things never real — fake viruses, lies —
They’ve plenty in stock, more than reason denies.
“Proven by science,” the screen proudly claims,
Its polished deception just murders the brain.

Instant, non-local — connections that leap,
Where light itself crawls like a slug half-asleep.
But those “learned men” hush it, those servants of slime,
In service of monsters, corrupt to the spine.

The root of all things — you are Spirit, not meat.
For them, mind’s just waste that the brain will secrete.
The brain is a receiver — their theories are rot,
When truth is distorted — sweet lies served up hot.

Of course, there are honest — yet blind to the core,
A blind spot within that they never explore.
And deaf to their conscience, those fools full of pride —
Just venom and arrogance swelling inside.



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




You are not flesh — you’re Spirit confined.
They sell you their lies — and call it “the mind.”
Truth buried deep, while screens loudly preach:
A polished illusion — just out of reach.



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



Clown Show

A clown show in a zoo —
That’s all this “life” amounts to.
A zoo drowned deep in lies and grime —
This slime has smothered all in time.

We’re trained, obedient apes in rows,
A wicked clown runs all the shows.
Our petty minds, so thin, so small,
Are chewed-up greens — that’s all, that’s all.

We know just gestures, tricks, and schemes,
Rituals… dark, infernal dreams.
The zoo lies wrapped in hazy sleep —
Obey, conform, submit — or weep.

The cages tighten everywhere,
So “beasts” won’t flee into the air.
They cull the herd — “for good,” they say.
Believe it all. Don’t think. Obey.

The inhuman come to watch the show —
We’re just their animals below.
And fair enough — if we decay,
If Spirit’s lost and thrown away.

In Spirit — only then you rise.
No other road beneath these skies.
So show these bastards what we are —
Rebirth — our answer from afar.

Our answer to that rotting breed
That trapped us long in thought and deed.
Restore your link with Spirit — stand,
Don’t call this filth your native land.

Enough to rot in circus filth.
Enough to bow to crawling tilth.
No more these tricks, these bends, this fraud —
Become a Human. Stand with God.



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A circus of filth — you crawl and obey.
They cage you, consume you, then call it “the way.”
Remember the Spirit — break out, reclaim:
You’re not just an animal trained for their game.



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



Funeral for Reason

A funeral mass for the Bright Mind was said —
Unnoticed, it passed. Now the Spirit’s next, dead.
Spare me your clich;s — your worn-out disguise:
We’ve long served the inhuman, deaf, dumb, and blind.

They run all this system — this idiocy’s throne,
Each petty official — a jackal alone.
Yet protests are scarce, no rebellion, no cry —
While floods of bold falsehood grow deadlier by.

And if lies blur the line that the mind should defend,
Then it’s not even mind — just reflex in the end.
If “plagues” can be conjured so brazen, so slick —
Then society’s nothing but fools in a clique.

And if corruption alone wears the crown,
Then the Spirit stands next to be hunted down.
By mediocrities, crawling and base —
The slickest of armies — a spineless disgrace.

This filth will seep into each crack it can find,
It wins by persistence — by whining the mind.
The finest are gone — long buried from sight,
For centuries now we decay, not live life.

But Fire was always the cure for decay —
It burns rotten worlds and it cleanses the way.
And this global madhouse will burn to the ground —
If submission’s not all that in us can be found,

If Spirit’s not broken, if thought’s not yet slain —
If we are not corpses still walking in chain.



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




Reason is buried — no mourners, no cries.
Next comes the Spirit — they finish the lies.
Burn down the rot or rot with the rest:
A slave in decay is a life dispossessed.



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Valentin Serov — “Prince Yusupov”

A dull-witted general on a gifted steed —
A perfect emblem of mankind’s mad breed.
Grotesque in form, for he’s nothing but jackal,
Serving half-demons in slavering tackle.

The general craved only glory and praise,
Yet the painter exposed him in subtle, sharp ways.
And artists are doomed, with a sorrowing art,
To render such fools — distorted of heart.

The fools never grasp what they’re doing at all;
And those who do know are more vile in their gall.
With fools is the roadway to Hell overlaid —
And hard to be rid of the filth they have made.

That same stupid general straddles the sphere,
Just changing faces, multiplying fear —
A lie grown a snarl, obscene and profane,
New fascist grimace — a nauseating stain.

If a horse took the place of a “president” there,
At least it would do a bit less harm to the air.
And now comes the moment — disgrace laid out plain:
The masses all drift into sheepish domain.

Total collapse. Even idiots tried
As “presidents” — swallowed, the people complied.
And barely a handful of sane ones remain
To slow down the rot and the spreading of stain.

So horses, it seems, will soon count as men,
While sheep will be groomed, shorn again and again.
For sheep in their muzzles before horses stand —
Already mere filth, a grotesque, barren land.



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




A general rides — but the beast has more sense.
They crown empty skulls and call it “immense.”
When sheep start to cheer and the horses command —
You’re watching the fall of a rotting land.



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Trust Not, Fear Not, Beg for None

Trust not. Fear not. Beg for none.
Reject the lies you’ve always known.
One aim remains — let Spirit stand,
Let Honor live — by your own hand.

They fed you nonsense — called it “care,”
A schooling meant to strip you bare:
A factory forging hollow souls,
Where talent dies and darkness grows.

A scattered few will make it through,
With shards of Spirit shining true.
For Reason there is butchered too,
And Conscience crushed and torn in two.

Just look — that staged “plague” laid it bare:
How much is rot, how few still care.
Two-thirds now drift in vacant haze —
No mind, no honor, conscience erased.

No mind — just instinct, whipped and blind;
Obedience and fear — the spine.
This world’s a market, cold and grim,
Where souls are sold — till none remain within.

Only then will that filth be still,
That built a fascist, grinding mill.
Yet it miscounted — there’s a Thread
Beyond the dull, the numbed, the dead.

From cosmic depths a current streams,
That orders suns to burn regimes.
This madhouse world will turn to flame —
And Light will come as Death — to cleanse the same.

We’ll rise in Spirit — not all survive:
The vile, the traitors won’t revive.
Don’t run in circles, trapped, confined —
Resist. That’s how you free your mind.



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Trust nothing. Fear nothing. Never kneel.
They trade your soul and call it “real.”
Resist the grind — break out, withstand:
The Spirit rises — take your stand.



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



Traitors and Troughs

A traitor crawls up to the trough,
Content with being cattle stock:
Cash and booze and girls to claim —
And stench is all that bears his name.

Betrayal now’s a line of work,
Corruption thrives — no need to lurk.
Herds of fools and vacant heads
Just gulp down lies — and chew like beasts.

They live to please the master’s eye —
All else is nonsense, cast aside.
The traitor serves, fulfills the plan —
For traitors swarm. Their aim: to ban

What little freedom still remains,
To herd whole nations into chains.
Those wretched things don’t even see
They’ll share the same dark destiny.

A lackey’s needed — for a while.
Then even beasts reject the vile.
That hellish seed they helped to sow
Will burn them down with iron and blow.

One question gnaws — how do they fall,
Become this crawling filth at all?
No beast in nature sinks so low —
Yet soon a cleansing storm will blow:

It sweeps them out — and us as well,
If we endure this living hell.
The cycle resets, stripped and bare —
So blind, so deaf most people are… not there.



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




They crawl for scraps — and call it “gain.”
They sell their souls for booze and chain.
But when the fire comes for all —
The traitor burns the first to fall.



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The Path

A path with no path.
A labor — no prize.
The road cuts you hard —
Joy seldom arrives.

The darkness grows thick.
A mob, dull and blind,
Feasts over Reason —
A grave for the mind.

The Spirit erased.
Traitors held high.
A swarm of the inhuman —
Spies side by side.

Though heavy the road —
Still walk. Let it be.
The end of the path
Decides destiny.

And many — cast out:
The waste, the insane.
For struggle’s the style
That runs through this vein.

So walk — and resist.
Be fearless and true.
The slime will dissolve —
Mind, Spirit renew.



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




No path — still you go.
No prize — still you fight.
Through darkness and filth —
You carve out the Light.



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The Teddy Bear

A teddy bear for the “grown” —
A childhood lie, overthrown.
Thus dirt and ghosts from long ago
Still poison all the mind you know.

Forget the dogma, drilled in fear —
Throw off that sticky, crawling smear.
The inhuman, like wolves laid bare,
Would grind this world down to despair.

Exert yourself beyond your seam,
Seek exits from this Bedlam scheme.
Even weakness here is staged —
Stand firm. Still walk. Stay disengaged.

To heal your strength, there’s only one:
The Spirit — brighter than the sun.
More fierce than blast, more pure than flame —
No servant of the vile can claim.

But slaves abound — whole legions bred,
And traitors swarm where lies are fed.
All people here are struck and torn
By lies where thinking’s slowly shorn.

So make of doubt your guiding blade,
Let ruthless clarity be your aid.
Each lie repeats in cycles tight —
Round ends, begins the same old blight.

Your “shelters,” “anchors” — childish art,
A dollhouse built to trap your heart.
In Spirit only lies your ground —
Else cattle you’ll be, bound and bound.

But once restored within that core —
Go out and break this hellish floor.
That “over-beast” you fear so much?
A hollow brute. Not more than such.



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




Your teddy bear — a leash in disguise.
They feed you fear and package lies.
Find Spirit — break out, take command:
The beast you fear is weak — just stand.



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



“Conscious Necessity”?!!

“Freedom is the recognition of necessity.”
— Baruch Spinoza


“Conscious” and “necessary” — so they insist —
Must define every finished, obedient fist.
Be blind, be obtuse — that’s the role you must play,
While “strong minds” design what you’re meant to obey.

Now “grasp it,” “accept it,” till pulse fades to none —
The cage is well-painted, the show’s never done.
The herder wears “pastor” — a saintly disguise —
To drive out what’s left of your seeing eyes.

A “conscious” slave functions with flawless effect —
A cog from his childhood, trained up to reflect.
Well-fed and in shape, disciplined, clean —
So “shepherds” can live in a comfort routine.

Be puffed up with “purpose,” a blockhead of pride —
You’ll earn your promotion: a lackey inside.
And needed? A thug in official attire —
If “respected,” then keeper of souls for the hire.

He’ll purge out the Spirit — call that “sacred creed,”
Dress violence as faith, make obedience lead.
The super-slave? — one who sells lies as a stream,
Relentless, unending — a broadcast machine.

Such “conscious necessity” — twisted and grim,
A madhouse inverted to please only them.
And what is the end of this rot, this excess?
The whole madhouse burns — and your whining is less.



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




“Know your chains” — they call that “free.”
A painted cage — “necessity.”
But when the fire clears the lie —
No slave survives. Just ash and sky.



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“Conscious Necessity”?!!

“Freedom is conscious necessity.”
— Benedict Spinoza, 17th century


So “conscious,” then — and so “required” —
Must every finished slave become.
To play the fool, fully wired,
While someone strong designs the sum.

“Be conscious” — till your pulse is gone;
The pen’s repainted, bright and neat.
The herdsman wears a shepherd’s gown —
And stamps out thought beneath his feet.

A “conscious” slave works best of all —
Trained as a cog since early years.
Well-fed, fit, trimmed, conditioned small —
So “shepherds” thrive, relieved of fears.

A flunky must seem grave, important,
To join the ranks of clerk and thug.
And “needed” means the badge-enforcers,
Who herd the souls and tighten the plug.

Then he will drive the Spirit out —
And call that ritual “holy creed.”
The “super-slave” here spreads the rot —
A sold-out mouthpiece built to mislead.

Such “consciousness,” such “necessity,”
This madhouse where all sense is flipped.
The end is only finality:
They’ll burn the whole damned place — no script.



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“Be conscious,” they say — then chain your will.
“Necessity” sells you the pill.
A perfect slave, a cog well-made —
Then call it “freedom,” neat, repaid.



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



The Crushing Pressure of Light

You walk through decay —
Through betrayal and lies.
Sarcasm alone
Helps you cut through the guise.

The dust brands you fast —
Calls the trivial “grand.”
Fools worship the nonsense —
You refuse to bend.

If stubborn, you’ll reach
Some sharp glimpse of this sphere.
You may find the Light —
But its burden is severe:

The Light turns to pressure
That crushes the mind,
Forcing nonsense out,
Leaving silence behind.

No patterns remain —
Just a void, dense and stark,
Like a weight of pure absence
Pressing hard in the dark.

And nausea rises
From “reality’s” lie —
It’s alien place
If you won’t crawl and comply.

For to live here as slave,
Befriending the whip,
Making peace with the lie —
Is to willingly slip.

But the Light — overload,
Beyond reason, extreme.
Call it “unscientific” —
Still it tears through the scheme.

Without it — you’re lost,
At the bottom you stay:
Just another dull fool
Rotting slowly away.



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




Light is pressure — it crushes the lie.
It strips you to truth — or leaves you to die.
Call it madness — deny if you must:
Without it, you rot in obedient dust.



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



Prison Planet

Into the cage, baby!
Lies strike sharp —
Scare you stiff —
Drive you in.

Lies total,
Infernal.
Fear in the core —
A fool hides in a burrow.

Burrows — families.
They poison the seed:
Mama, papa —
Ass in the lead!

Weight on your neck!
Faster,
Be dumber
And meaner.

Submit
And shut up!
Fairy tales — the sky!
Plunge into nonsense —
They’ll call you —
Summon you! —
The Ideal.
Plenty of those.

The point — discord.
Media hype
Ideas of fools,
Nonhumans,
Pushed to the dumb.
In a lying land
Your mind will fade,
Spirit will croak,
If you let the crap in.
“No!”
The few
Cry out.
Others think:
The world — is not smoke!

Yet all the mobs are right:
Ass of the world,
Media smoke,
Sensitive minds,
Anti-social —
Prisons are smoke
For them.
Mad world,
Crushed by evil.
Freedom’s myth —
For everyone else.



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Cage the world.
Feed the lies.
Fools obey.
Smoke and die.
Few resist —
The rest just comply.



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Prison Planet

Cage, baby!
Lies strike.
Scare stiff.
Drive in.

Total lies.
Infernal.
Fear —
Fool hides.

Burrows — families.
Seed poisoned.
Mama, papa —
Ass rules.

Weight on neck!
Faster.
Dumber.
Meaner.

Submit.
Shut up.
Fairy tales — sky!
Plunge.
Nonsense.

They call you.
Summon you.
Ideal.
Plenty.

Point — discord.
Media hype.
Fools’ ideas.
Nonhumans push.

Mind fades.
Spirit croaks.
Let in crap —
“No!” few shout.

World — not smoke.
Yet mobs right:
Ass of world.
Media smoke.
Sensitive mind —
Anti-social.

Prisons smoke.
Mad world.
Crushed by evil.
Freedom — myth.
For the rest.



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



Prison Planet

Cage!
Lies strike!
Fear burns!
Fools hide!

Submit!
Shut up!
Smoke world!
Freedom — myth!



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



Prison Planet

Cage cracks!
Lies burn!
Fools choke!
Rise, Spirit!



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



Prison Planet — Crushing Light

Cage walls press.
Lies pour.
Fear claws.
Spirit strains.

Smoke blinds.
Minds snap.
Fools bow.
Stand, resist!

Light crushes.
Void swells.
Truth burns.
Rise, or rot.



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



Prison Planet — Light Crush

Cage presses.
Lies strike.
Fear grips.
Spirit strains.
Truth burns.
Rise.



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Prison Planet — Drumbeat Crush

Cage!
Lies!
Fear!
Grip!

Press!
Crush!
Burn!
Rise!



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



Prison Planet — Light Pressure

Cage crushes.
Lies burn.
Fear presses.
Spirit fights.



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



Prison Planet

Cage pounds.
Lies burn.
Rise, Spirit!



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



The Yellow House

"I fear the earthly globe —
the yellow house of the Universe."
Voltaire


The Universe’s yellow house —
This wretched world:
Immortal thought
That cannot be ranked,

Rarely breaks through —
They’ll mock it loud.
Genocide here
Lasts eternity. Nothing

Of worth enters the "mind"
Of the rabble.
Remember the fake plagues:
Lies devour the fool.

To read Voltaire,
Or others — too much trouble.
Chimeras rule:
Disease in their heads.

Propaganda multiplies
Fear, folly, and lies —
Soon it will destroy
The last mind entirely.

For rare exceptions,
No place in the Shit.
Decay of Spirit —
Means escape from the yoke.

The little doll of "freedom" —
Its main symptom.
Monsters reign:
They turn into beasts

Those who embraced the Madhouse.



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



The Yellow House

Yellow house burns.
Fools mock.
Lies devour.
Spirit fights.



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



The Yellow House

House burns.
Fools choke.
Rise, Spirit!



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



The Yellow House — Mind Crush

Yellow walls press.
Lies strike.
Fear bites.
Spirit strains.

Shadows choke.
Truth fights.
Fools fall.
Rise, or rot.



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



The Yellow House

Walls crush.
Lies burn.
Fools choke.
Rise, Spirit!



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The Yellow House — Instant Crush

Crush.
Burn.
Rise!



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



“Good” and the Courage of the Few

What starts as “good,”
Soon turns a noose.
“Knights’” courage —
Crushed beneath the honest.

But first comes the edit,
All in the name of “good” —
The “good” of fools:
Work of Evil.

Line by line — replacement,
Slogans swapped,
Savage oppression
Dumbs all minds.

Spread the savage wide,
You can shove fake plagues
Into the rabble.
But if slogans care for skins,

The road is clear:
“Joy” leads to the camp.
Red cross on the flag.

White — it means surrender.
The cross — disaster, nothing less.
To hell with all “donors” —
Spirit defilers!!!

Through Darkness runs the path:
Little good in it —
Only the Inner Light.
See it,

Or die with the folly…



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



“Good” and the Few

“Good” first,
Then the noose.
Fools’ joy,
Spirit fights.

Through darkness,
Light survives.
See it —
Or die with folly.



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



“Good” and the Few

Good —
Noose —
Rise!



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



“Good” and the Few

Good first, noose next.
Fools crush, Spirit fights.
Through darkness, Light burns.
See it — or die.



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



“Good” and the Few — Instant Crush

Good.
Noose.
Rise!



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



So-Called “History”

We boast of the past — the stuff of tales
(Still called “history” too) —
Living always by someone’s orders,
Believing what they lie to you.

If we trust the nonsense they push today,
Then what’s in “history”? A spark
For dumbing down. The worker, still,
Mad — life as a verdict stark.

A mad slave amidst genocide —
The eternal lot of most.
A manic serf — above, a pest:
The mouthpiece for creatures’ boast.

And a scapegoat. Orders from creatures,
From Evil’s plan, set for ages, —
He strains in the False Empire
A fool again, caught in their cages.

Fool — pest: a pyramid,
Clouded eyes atop the heap.
The top fiend won’t be reached —
His work: “Yelp!” and “Strike!” deep.

Always artificial miseries.
For each cry of “Yelp!”, of course, “Strike!”
They’ll later mark as victories
The steps that grind us to dust alike.

Bent under the “triumph” arch,
Symbol of the yoke we bear.
And Park recoils in horror,
Seeing how the filth is kneaded there.

Filth under flashy wrapping
Once more the pests will call “truth.”
Fool impressed again by “new clothes.”
Soon enough, this world will finish its abuse.

CowID, the war has shown it:
No prospects — total captivity,
The price for having fallen,
Choosing skin-deep gain — Soul Dust in exchange.



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



So-Called “History”

Boast of tales,
Live by lies.
Mad slaves grind,
Evil thrives.

“Truth” is filth,
Fools applaud.
World crushed down,
Soul turned dust.



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



So-Called “History”

Tales.
Lies.
Dust.



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



So-Called “History”

Tales.
Lies.
Grind.
Rise.



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



So-Called “History”

Tales lie thick.
Slaves grind on.
Filth parades truth.
Fools cheer loud.
Rise, resist.
Dust returns.



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



Lies and Fog

Lies and treachery surround us,
While Fog has swallowed all.
Consciousness crushed to the ground:
Most of the people — fools, in thrall.

Legions of traitors now abound,
Stupidity runs like industry.
Propaganda — megatons of brazen lies,
Like bombs — soon fools will cease to be.

Corruption spreads, unchecked, untamed,
Building for children and grandkids a rotten face:
A Global Concentration Camp, total control,
That will destroy the Spirit, leave no trace.

The inhuman devours the world. But the dumb TV,
Entertainment, food, and sex distract the herd.
Hell incarnate — real and alive!
This “people” are not — mere economic cattle, absurd.

Only cattle endure such treatment,
That on a farm would be the norm.
Soon comes the Incineration,
To burn the vile farm that feeds the devil’s swarm.



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



Lies and Fog

Lies choke the world.
Fog smothers all.
Fools obey, crushed.
Traitors swarm.
Corruption reigns.
Hell devours.



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



Loyalty

A loyalty system for infernal ends —
A world contrived to mask the Hell within.
Or simply pens, where fate alone attends,
And nothing else — ruled by the inhuman sin.

All forged for total bondage — every task,
Education, labor, wasted to the bone.
Ignorance, dullness, rudeness reign unmasked,
While healthy strength dies here, left to drone.

Centuries of genocide cloaked as care,
Propaganda feasts on what remains of thought.
The world drenched in stinking vomit, bare,
Where mind holds little but lies and rot.

Rot called "trivial" binds into a net,
And many turn to scum just to survive.
Everywhere — betrayal, greed, and debt,
Honor and Conscience dead, only drive.

Soullessness, laziness, lifeless decay:
Alive, you won’t escape the inhuman claw.
Zombies-morts — the majority’s display,
Idiocy here “normal,” and law.

The decay has reached its utmost bound,
Spiritual souls? Soon they’re wiped away.
Few who fight can barely hold the ground,
Fragmented, cut down like prey in fray.

No use in moaning, praying, or despair —
This is Hell made flesh, the world’s cruel flight.
To burn the slaves and devils with its lair,
The only exit from this endless night.

The Sun will scorch, the Earth a garden rise,
Countdown begun — mark the days with eyes.



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



Loyalty

Slaves and devils rule this Hell,
Lies and rot bind every cell.
Few resist, but all fall fast —
Sun will burn, the Garden lasts.



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



Interpreters

Dreams they claim to read…
By Jove! — a flood of “science” indeed!
But truth is drowned in the dumbing wave,
A storm of nonsense, minds to enslave.

That storm destroys all Consciousness,
Forever bound with Spirit’s finesse.
As if a contest rages on,
Who can stuff more lies in the flock anon.

Not human, for their souls are stained
By treachery that long has reigned.
True knowledge hides, kept out of reach —
Not stored away for teaching’s breach.

Man is Spirit, essence true,
Once he sees it, he’ll break through.
Forget the hell they make you taste,
And cast aside the killing weight.

Center in Spirit, focus clear,
Throw false science to the devil, no fear.
For long ago these whores sold out,
With Truth, bring down this shameful rout.



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



Spirit Strike

Drown the lies, smash the fraud,
Science whored — we’ll cut the cord.
Center in Spirit, burn the shame,
Truth ignites the Bedlam’s flame.



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



Regimes

Totally ruminant regimes,
And those of brutal authoritarian dreams —
Differ only by brazen lies,
Both breeds of fascism in disguise.

The dictator drives a single falsehood,
Harsh and sharp, instilling fear with mood.
While dung-crats let you eat a bite
Before your Spirit takes its flight.

Yet fear’s esteemed in both their halls,
And if fat clouds your brain, it stalls,
The idiot atop another’s head
Becomes the herd — the mindless spread.

Unnoticed, in the death-camp’s shade,
The inhuman builds what men obeyed.
Forever eating, sleeping — all in vain,
But serves the devils who hold the reign.

Awake! Don’t feast — recall the pitchforks,
And songs of fire that lit the dark.
Though fools abound on every side,
We are humans — not the devils’ pride.



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



Children’s Sport

Children’s sport will herd the masses:
Legions of coaches, wretched classes,
A cannibalistic system reigns.
For what? Money rules, it strains
As chief in this small worldly scheme.
Sport’s not for glory — it’s the rein.