Игорь Выхованец, стихи 20501-21000

Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 20501-21000



При рожденьи первый плач —
Примитивный мир палач.
Дальше будет привыканье
Через ЛУЧШЕГО закланье.
Плача меньше, дури больше,
А прослойка Духа тоньше.
Самый стойкий в Тьме мертвяк —
Принимает весь Бардак.
Мертвяков в мирке немало —
Осознание пропало,
Коль быть честным, в большинстве:
Сухость в сером веществе.
Вещество не мозг — мертвяк
Как итог Злой Тьмы атак.



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



ГУсударство это банда,
Справедливости коль нет.
Но втемяшит пропаганда
Всем рабам Голимый Бред —

И "свободны" все терпилы,
"Правда" — что вещает "вождь"
Иль вучёный. Сплошь дебилы,
"Справедливость" словно гвоздь:

Прибивает к жалкой жизДни —
Только смертью отодрать.
Мертвяки на Духа тризне.
Скрыть Мрак просто — больше врать!..



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



Неукротимый Порыв Вовне

Бог мир твАрил, когда был пьян,
Забыв рога, что прорастают.
Закономерен весь ИЗЪЯН,
Что нормою во Тьме считают.

Большой ИЗЪЯН безумный мир.
В нём мало искр Души — не бога.
А потому Искатель сир
Средь черни глупой и убогой.

Источник Искр вне дольних сфер —
Большая Зона Отчужденья
Мерзот, где правит Люцифер
Чрез Страхи, Ложь и Разложенье.

И это чувствует Душа,
Тоскуя о былом, где Мерзость
Фантасмагорией, спеша,
Поняв, покинуть, вспомнив Дерзость.

Совет один: отринь ВСЮ Ложь —
Её в твоём уме немало,
Все Страхи в корне уничтожь,
Или Душа во Зле пропала.

Почувствуй очень тонкий Зов
ИЗВНЕ пределов Люцифера.
Заглушит Чушь — пытайся вновь.
Не одолеет Мир-Химера,

Когда вся жизнь — Порыв Вовне,
Хоть представлений не имеешь,
Что это. То, что ты в Говне —
Шаг первый: осознай, иль с Гадким Миром стлеешь.



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



Сравнительно недавнее создание многих языков

Изобретенье языков —
Времён Заката новодел.
Сплошь разделение — оков
Поменьше надо. Беспредел

Легко вершить — война потом
Всё спишет. Так говнид забыт
Моментом чрез войну. Скотом
Безмозглым править просто: быт

Мысль поглощает, липкий страх
Душе как газ иприт для тел.
Обман скрепляет мира прах —
И редкий честный не у дел.



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



"Добро" несущих надо метить
Какой-то новою звездой.
Зелёнкой крест на лбу — отметить
"Заботливых". А СМРАДов вой

Использовать в одних сиренах —
Страшнее нету ничего.
Несущих черни "перемены"
Казнить без следствия. Того

Потребовало выживанье
Мирка безумного: чрез Ложь
Ведут уродцев на закланье —
"Заботы" вовремя лишь множь.

"Заботились" рВачи говнида,
Через руины "русский мир"
Несёт "свободу". Верит гнида
В любую чушь — народец туп, убог и сир.




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



Кремлядская правда

Реально это СВО —
Нельзя УБОЙ назвать войной!
Кремлядских тварей торжество.
Иди за мразь в последний бой!


Вариант. Иди, тупой, в последний бой!




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



ChatGPT

Сдулся чатик — стал "системным".
Лишь Поэзия в Тьме темы
Духа будет развивать —
Недогуркам тож насрать.



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



Рубить ВСЕ концы!

"Скучно на этом свете, господа!"
Николай Гоголь.


Очень скучно, господа!
И не будет никогда
Здесь простору для Ума.
Средь Убогого Дерьма,

Рефлексируя, скучать —
Доля Чутких, коль не врать,
Не канючить, не мечтать
И МАРАЗМ не принимать.

Скука-сука добивает?
Значит ум слегка лажает —
Как дышать во Тьме скучать —
Мир под Злом не принимать.

Если дальше ум лажает —
Одиночество считает
Тяжким бременем, тогда
Сочтены твои года

Как субъекта с Мыслью Ясной.
Лишь дебилам всё прекрасно.
После скуки ждёт Тоска
Как судьба не дурака.

И тогда не выть — творить,
Чтобы Ярь и Желчь излить
В Доставучую Клоаку —
Веселее вмиг от драки!

Хоть Клоаке всё равно,
Ощущенье "не говно"
В отношении себя
Чуть взбодрит, концы рубя.

Обрубили все концы
Единицы. То борцы
За свободу не принять —
И с Клоакой не вонять.

Так что скуку привечай,
Ждя Тоску. Не принимай
НИЧЕГО — и будешь цел:
Ум ПОД Духом, не у дел.

Мира "дело" — Беспредел,
Если в целом. Дух в нём цель.
Раззадорены стрелки —
Рубят сук все дураки,

На котором и сидят.
Все концы рубить не гад
Станет в Аде Дураков —
Часть оплетших Ад оков.

 




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



Йога Освобождения

Дом горит! Иным — смердит.
Кто без кожи — боль и стыд.
Если Дух твой не избыт —
Прочь лети: здесь Ад — в говнид

Сняты Маски, а намордник
Был напялен. Лишь негодник
Иль дурак приемлет Ад,
Холуём ТВАРЬЮ быть рад.

Дом горит — так не исследуй
Связи, вехи, корень Бреда
Мирового — убегай,
Много лучше — улетай.

Не горит твой ветхий дом,
Значит помещён в Дурдом
Чрез приятье, выживанье —
Духа и Ума закланье.

Дом горит — основа йоги.
Только йоги не убоги.
Но не хатха-, карма- — Сути
Йоги средь тотальных Лжи и Жути.




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



Неукротимая поступь Разложения

Бред собачий, не иначе,
Обусловит псевдожизнь.
И чем далее, тем паче
Разъедает разум слизь

Лжи, покрывшей всю ничтожность,
Как глазурь протухший торт.
Одолеет псевдо-сложность
Схем подложных держиморд,

Называемых "законом"
И "порядком" — чтоб Бардак
Представлять иным. Препоном
Не считает их дурак.

Бред, дурак — мирка основа.
Строй "меняют" — рабство снова
Проступает: прикрывают
Чушью "выбора". Лажают

Все рабы в бреду опять —
В целом, нечего спасать:
Разложенье перешло
В гниль и далее пошло...



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



Не прекращаемый футбол
И прочий спорт чрез зомбоящик
Не остановит литербол —
Сплошь Ад посконный, настоящий,

А потому забыться пипл
Желает хоть на миг — от бреда,
Тотальной лжи, в которых влип
Он в безнадёгу. А победа

Условных "наших" веселит
Гораздо лучше под бутылку.
Факт, что ты раб, чрез Чушь забыт
Повсюду — вновь напяль ухмылку!




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



Направление движения

Пикадилли: мы ходили,
Барахлишка накупили.
Настоящий рай... дебилий.
Мы в него чрез Шторм приплыли —
В Буре Вектор позабыли.




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



Мычанье — не молчанье,
Когда не одичанье,
А мысль ДО языка.
Вот путь не-простака.



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



Дзэн-матрёшка: остановка,
Где нет формы — ерунда.
Чуткость, цепкость и сноровка:
Вглубь иди — в "НИЧТО", туда!

И "НИЧТО" вдруг станет "чем-то",
Позже ВСЕМ. Такой расклад —
Различение там стёрто:
ПОЛЕ там — не "рай", не "ад".



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



Опыт топит — будешь в жопе,
Если лично не найдёшь,
Что до "жизни". П`охер тропы —
Падай в Бездну. Прочь галдёж!



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



Рейтинг — всё. А смысл — ничто.
Дале будет `ЫщЁ то!
Днесь умишки в решето.
Дырка дале — с`амо то,

Ведь вещают ныне дырки —
К временам иным притирка.




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



Лента Мёбиуса

Вектор слишком устремился
И в Неведенье упёрся.
Но не сник, а превратился
В ленту — цикл навек продлился.



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



Безвременье — в ВНЕВРЕМЕНЬЕ:
Смысл матрёшки озорной.
Начинай же измененье,
Переставши быть "собой", —

Сгустком Яви-Осознанья
До "скончания времён"
Снова ставши. Основанья
Есть, коль Разумом силён.


Вариант последней строки. Есть, коль Духом ты силён.



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



Без структуры, вне "культуры",
"Знаний", прочей мишуры:
С Пустотою ш`уры-м`уры
Как свобода от Муры,

Одолевшей мир безумный,
В Догматизме слишком шумный.
Шаг в "НИЧТО" — прорыв огромный,
Догматизму — костоломный.



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



Вне "поля знания", субъекта
Поэму пишет Пустота,
Не оттолкнувшись от объекта.
Почти "святая простота"...



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



Вне разделений, различений
И до Творения Поэт
Ритм создавал вне слов. Есть мненье,
Что изливался он чрез Свет.



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



В не-различение упал
Упрямый йог. "Дурак пропал" —
Вещают люди, видя "ступор",
Трактуя по привычке — ТУПО.



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



Поэзия Пространства,
Вне этого Засранства:
Ума, что различает —
Единство тем кончает.

Духовное Единство —
Всё остальное свинство.
Не ведает кретинство —
Оно лишь Естество.



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



Карты доландшафтности

Не счесть их — то, что "есть", рисуют.
До Бытия что?  — описует,
В Познаньи разумом рискуя,
Искатель смелый, "явь" бракуя.
Те карты пропадают всуе.



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



Дзэн: удары посохом

1
Искал Источник —
нашёл слово.
Получил посохом.

2
Сказал: “Есть”.
Сказал: “Нет”.
Два удара — за оба.

3
Поймал Пустоту?
Кулак разожми.
Третий удар — внутри.

4
До мысли дошёл?
Поздравляю.
Опоздал.

5
"Я понял!" —
крикнул ученик.
Посох ответил.

6
Хотел тишины —
сделал идею.
Сломано.

7
Без различений?
Кто это сказал?
Ещё раз.

8
Нет пути.
Идёшь?
Удар.

9
Нет ума.
Кто радуется?
Держи.

10
До "есть".
До "нет".
Где ты?

11
Остановился.
Назвал это Покоем.
Ошибка.

12
Лента Мёбиуса?
Красиво.
Разорвано.

13
"Ничто"...
Слишком много букв.
Поздно.

14
Искатель исчез.
Остался след.
Стереть.

15
Посох поднят.
Кто ждёт удара?
Вот он.



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



Просто удары посохом

1
—
Удар.

2
Смотрит.
Поздно.

3
...
Ещё.

4
Кто?
Нет.

5
Был?
Треск.

6
Тянется —
обрыв.

7
Молчал.
Сказал.

8
Ждал.
Получил.

9
Есть—
нет.

10
...
(уже)



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



Раз-...рыв

чу—
чуж—
чужо—

…

ч

—

чук
чум
чув—

(сорвалось)

—

чу-чуд-
чуди—
ще

ще?

—

ч
ч
ч

—

чуш—
чушь

шшш—

(уже нет)

—

чут—
чутк—

кто?

—

чу

—

(пусто)

—

ч
у
ш

—

…

ч

—



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



Попытка слова

на—

нача—

начал—

...

(нет)



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



Ярый поэт.
Ложь, Страх, Чушь, Бред
Всюду. Ответ:
Виршами "нет!!!"
Крик. Тишь, чушь вслед.




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



Одиночество поэта

Слово — друг.
Чернь вокруг:
То враги —
Дураки.
В мире Врак
Дурень враг
Первый. Он
Не силён —
Большинством
С Шельмовством
Во главе
Давит Явь,
Дух отдав
Шельмам за
Вещь. Гроза
"Тормоза"
Ожидает —
Приласкает
Смертью, раз Разум тает.



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



Нарыв и Порыв

Переработка праны в страх —
Закон для мира, где аллах
Рогат, а людень — полу-чёрт,
Ведь в большинстве Дух Чистый стёрт.

Дух, страх совместны? Нет! Никак!!!
Но в Лжи и в Мороке Бардак
Земной, ничком от Зла атак
Лежа, террором ****ежа

Он приведён к "сложенью риз",
Коль ум оценивать. Лишь вниз
Всё катится — таков "прогресс",
Коль миром правит Скрытный Бес.

Страх пища Бесу, потому
Простора нет Душе, Уму —
Лишь поклонение Дерьму
"Наук", "религий" для... Муму.

В наличьи хомо-доберман —
То гражданин фиктивных стран.
Война, говнид то показали.
А также то, как низко пали

Остатки человечьей расы,
Пока толпилися у кассы,
Подачки жаждя получить —
Чтобы в Дурдоме дальше гнить.

Уже финал переработки.
Не будет тех, кто посерёдке
Застрял: иль в быдло, иль бежать
Из Ада, Душу тем спасать.

Но как бежать?! Ум напрягать,
А эго превратить в Порыв,
Хотя исходно как нарыв
Оно. Дави! — на боль начхать!




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



Unrestrained Surge Outward

God forged the world while drunk and blind,
Forgot the horns that sprout and spread.
Thus every flaw is by design —
In Darkness hailed as norm instead.

A monstrous flaw — this mad-made sphere,
Few sparks of Soul — no God within.
So Seekers wander, lone and seared,
Among the witless, crippled kin.

The Source of Sparks lies far beyond —
A vast Exclusion, foul domain,
Where Lucifer maintains his throne
Through fear and lies, through slow decay.

The Soul still feels it — aches, recalls
A former state where filth was known
As phantom farce — and, breaking walls,
It dares to leave, to stand alone.

One counsel only: crush ALL lies —
Your mind is thickly packed with them.
Uproot all fears, or Soul just dies
And rots within this poisoned realm.

Now feel that subtle, distant Call
From OUTSIDE Lucifer’s domain.
Let nonsense drown it — rise, stand tall,
And try again, and yet again.

The Phantom-World won’t hold you fast
If all your life is thrusting OUT,
Though you don’t grasp it yet — at last
Admit you’re in the filth. No doubt.

That’s step the first: see where you lie —
Or rot along with this foul lie.



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




You rot in lies — admit it now,
That’s step one out of filth and fraud.
Break fear, break mind — and learn just how
To surge beyond this broken god.



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



Unrestrained Surge Outward

God built this world while piss-drunk, blind,
Forgot the horns now bursting through.
So every flaw is well-designed —
In Darkness sold as “normal,” “true.”

A grand defect — this rabid sphere,
No God — just scraps of Soul gone thin.
The Seeker starves, alone, austere,
Among the herds of cretins, spineless kin.

The Source lies OUTSIDE — far, exiled,
A quarantined, corrupted zone,
Where Lucifer keeps mankind styled
By fear, decay — and lies full-grown.

The Soul remembers — chokes on this,
A past where filth was seen as fake.
Now rage ignites: enough of this —
Break out, or rot for error’s sake.

One rule: annihilate ALL lies —
Your skull is stuffed with alien code.
Kill fear at root — no compromise,
Or watch your Soul dissolve in rot.

That subtle Call from OUTSIDE rings —
Beyond this scripted, rotting sphere.
It drowns in noise — then rise, you thing,
Try once again. Then persevere.

This Phantom-World won’t keep its grip
If all your life is OUTWARD thrust.
You don’t get it? Good. Take the hit:
You’re deep in shit. Admit you must.

That’s step one — clear, without disguise:
Face where you rot, don’t prettify.
Stay blind — and with this cesspool dies
Your spark, your nerve, your chance to rise.



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




You’re not in chains — you ARE the cage,
A script of fear, a borrowed lie.
Admit the filth. Ignite your rage —
Or rot with those who never try.



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



Providence

Providence will guide and save,
Providence — so they all say.
But when will it just dig my grave? —
I’m bored to death here day by day.

I want nothing. Sick of this
Bedlam rotting since my youth.
Fascism thrives in its abyss —
Man reduced to tool, not truth.

Once a tool — now food instead,
Inhuman jaws consume the mind.
Not nations — herds of walking dead,
A ruthless genocide refined.

I await the Final Fight —
Real, not ink on paper staged.
How to give myself — but right,
With a mind unbought, unchained?



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




“Providence” — a soothing lie.
This world’s a farm where thinkers die.
Sell your mind — or choose the blade:
Die awake, not tamely made.



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



The Farther and the Longer

The deeper in the woods — the lazier the partisan,
The longer that you live — the deeper flaws begin.
The greater grows the genocide — the duller grows the herd,
When Reason falls asleep — your wounds are all that stir.

Once you accept this madhouse closing in around,
You will not even see your Mind and Spirit drowned.
All’s built so every newborn wave comes weaker than the last,
Awareness of the rot — erased, erased so fast.

Vast forces serve here to strengthen the genocide,
While the people sleep, the result is already considerable:
We have crossed the point—there is no turning back,
We lie at the very bottom—the light of reason is extinguished.

A different Judgment comes — not written in the Book,
This madhouse will be swept — no masks, no holy look.
If here you choose to fight — there may remain salvation,
The traitors will be cut — Earth’s harsh regeneration.



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




The longer that you live — the less of you remains.
They breed decay in minds, they farm obedient brains.
Wake up and fight — or sink with all the rest:
A dying herd that chose its chains as “best.”



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



“Titanic”

The Titanic’s radio man was tough —
He dreamed to live a hundred years.
But Earth’s a sinking ship — enough:
Only curses fit it here.

From rot and stench the eyes go blind,
The mind goes dim, corroded, numb.
Beneath a vile fascist design
The world today’s become.

The dull — the mass — just eat and heal,
They chew, obey, and call it life.
One freak on freak — a grinding wheel,
While minds are crushed in strife.

To scream out “SOS” — too late,
This madhouse burns — no saving call.
The Sun now glares with brutal weight —
A boiling fate for all.

Like lice we’ll all be steamed away
For fascist rot, for genocide.
Our song is done — no more to say:
The Universe’s shame and blight.



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




This ship is doomed — and you’re below,
Still chewing lies, too dull to flee.
No rescue comes. Just heat will grow —
Till ash is all you’ll ever be.



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



The East Is No Subtle Matter

Nepali, Chinese, Uyghur alike —
Your rulers couldn’t care less.
They guard their skins, they claw and strike,
While you’re fed lies and distress.

Those vermin chase their safety first,
Reward themselves, deceive.
Year after year the same rehearsed —
You’re trained to just believe.

So was the East. The West the same.
No difference left to note.
All’s running down, the endgame came —
A global madhouse afloat.

Soon all this chaos fades to dust —
History’s iron decree.
The song is over — rot you must
If Mind has ceased to be.

And that “sheep-virus” laid it bare,
Exposed the grand deceit:
A ninth-wave surge of lies in air
That swept minds off their feet.



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




East or West — it’s all one pen,
Where shepherds feed on sheep again.
No mind — no future. That’s the deal:
A farm that taught itself to kneel.



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



Lip-Flappers

“Fate plays a man, and man plays on a horn…”
— Ilya Ilf & Yevgeny Petrov, The Golden Calf


Fate always plays the man — that’s how it goes,
And man just plays… his lips, a hollow show.
He doesn’t see the obstacles he made,
Blind to the traps his own two hands have laid.

He hunts for comfort, payoff, petty peace,
Unseeing how the game has turned to beast:
A savage howl now fills the rotting stage —
Like cattle lowing in a dying cage.

Here — crafted plagues, and lies, betrayal, shame;
Yet still he sniffs for profit in the game.
A thief’s more honest in this twisted fair —
At least he knows the rot he chooses there.

The play is done. And soon this world will burn,
This madhouse built on delusion, not discern.
Where not the Mind but phantom holds the throne —
The crippled herd stands ruthless… and alone.



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




You play your lips while Fate plays you,
A puppet proud of what it chews.
No mind — just noise, obedient breath:
A choir rehearsing for its death.



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



Fools

Fools go straight for personal attack,
While minds respond to what’s actually said.
Nothing unusual hiding in that —
There’s far too many fools to be fed.

A dissonance rattles inside their skulls
When something sharp cuts clean through the lie.
You’ll see their thin skins tremble in spasms —
Hence the wild, vicious, mindless reply.

No need to answer me — kindly refrain.
If you must — then answer in verse.
Train your “mind” and your “joy” elsewhere —
We’ll settle accounts… for better or worse.



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




Fools scream “you!” — they never think.
Sharp truth hits — and watch them shrink.
No mind, just noise, a savage hiss —
A wounded ego answering this.



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



Further…

“The less we attend to social and environmental factors,
the more our awareness of other space and time contracts.”
— Tarthang Tulku, Time, Space and Knowledge


You can only move further on
Once you’ve named this place as Hell —
A hoard of lies, a rotten spawn,
Where inhuman forces dwell.

Here the Mind is decomposed,
Here — a quiet genocide.
Honor, Spirit — both disposed,
Conscience numbed or set aside.

And they dance from the same old spark —
You must light another way.
Ruts and pits conceal the dark —
Candles cut through that decay.

Only thus you break from Hell,
Leave it once and never choke
On the stench where ages dwell —
On the rot the system spoke.



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




Call it Hell — or stay inside,
Choking slow on polished lies.
Light a flame — or rot with pride,
Blind among the blind who die.



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



Further… (Inner Fire Cut)

“The less we heed the outer mesh,
the tighter shuts our deeper sight…”
— Tarthang Tulku, Time, Space and Knowledge


Go further — but first see it plain:
This realm is Hell, refined in lies.
A crafted swarm, a feeding chain,
Where something inhuman rules disguised.

Mind here rots to obedient dust,
A silent genocide of will.
Honor traded, Spirit crushed,
Conscience drugged — or colder still.

They dance by habits, stale and blind —
So light no borrowed, dying spark.
Turn inward — there you’ll find
A blade of fire to cut the dark.

That subtle flame — no eyes can see,
No system owns, no lie can chain.
It burns outside their circuitry —
Step in, or choke in this domain.

Only thus you break the seal,
Leave this furnace, breathe at last.
Not by hope — but something real:
The inner light that outlives the past.



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




Not outward — in. That’s where it burns.
A silent blade the dark can’t break.
Ignore that call — the Hell returns.
Answer it — and chains will shake.



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



Further… (Pure Inner Cut)

“When attention no longer spreads outward,
other dimensions of time and space unfold within.”
— Tarthang Tulku, Time, Space and Knowledge


You cannot move — until you see.
Not “world,” not “system,” not “name.”
Only the state that traps you in
A loop of repetition, flame.

No Hell outside. It is a tone
Of narrowed knowing, closing tight.
A contraction of the known —
Where awareness loses sight.

And deeper still — a fracture line
Where thought no longer holds the frame.
Not “light,” not “dark,” but something fine
That burns without a form or name.

Turn inward — not as escape,
But as a cut through what is false.
No scenery, no fixed shape —
Just presence breaking all its walls.

There, movement is not motion now —
It is a shift in what you are.
No “far,” no “near,” no “then,” no “how” —
Only the spark before the star.

And if there is a “way” at all,
It is not path, not rise, not fall —
But recognition cutting through:
You were never bound at all.



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




No world to flee. No gate to find.
Only a knot inside the mind.
Undo it — and the cage is gone.
Not “somewhere else.” Just what you are.



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



Further… (Compressed Awareness Form)

No “outside.” Only contraction of awareness.
Not world — narrowing perception.

No Hell as place.
Only distortion of knowing.

Attention lost outward = collapse of inner space.

You do not move.
The idea of movement appears inside thought.

All forms = interpretations of a tightened field.

There is no path.
Only release of fixation.

No “light” opposed to “dark.”
Only recognition before division.

Every “problem” = structure held in awareness.
Remove holding ; structure disappears.

Turn inward = stop exporting meaning outward.
Nothing is found.
Nothing was missing.

Even “you” = temporary configuration of attention.

When configuration stops insisting —
no boundary remains to cross.



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




No world.
No path.
No problem.
Only awareness tightening or releasing.

Release = end of illusion of separation.

Nothing else is happening.



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



Further… (Minimal State Sequence)

attention ; outward fixation
outward fixation ; fragmentation of awareness

fragmentation ; perceived world
perceived world ; assumption of separation

separation ; suffering loop
suffering loop ; search outward

search outward ; reinforcement of loop

break condition:
recognition of loop as loop

recognition ; pause of projection

pause ; inward collapse of attention vector

inward collapse ; no external reference remains stable

no reference ; no “world” as fixed object

no world ; no problem-definition persists

problem-definition ; dissolves with its holder

holder ; seen as transient process

process ; self-undoing when not reinforced

non-reinforcement ; stillness of construction activity

stillness ; absence of directional grasp

absence of grasp ; no boundary maintenance

no boundary ; no separation function active

no separation function ; identity loses persistence requirement

loss of persistence requirement ; perception stabilizes without division

stabilized perception ; no “inside/outside” split generated

no split ; no movement toward or away

no movement ; no path construct possible

no path construct ; nothing to traverse

nothing to traverse ; no arrival concept

no arrival ; no lack-state generated

no lack-state ; no search impulse

no search impulse ; termination of cycle pressure

cycle pressure ; ends without residue


Final cut (core):

no projection
no separation
no fixation

only awareness without directional distortion

no problem remains because no structure is being held

nothing is added
nothing is removed

what remains is not an object
not a state
not a place

just non-divided awareness without reinforcement of illusion



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



Further… (Isolated Awareness Strikes)

no projection

collapse of outward attention

absence of reference point

non-formation of “world”

no division generated

no inside / outside split

identity not stabilized

no need for continuity

attention without direction

awareness without object

no fixation occurring

no interpretation layer

no constructed meaning

no search impulse

no movement concept

no path concept

no arrival concept

no lack signal

no problem signal

no holder of experience

no observer-position maintained

self-reference not reinforced

pattern loses recurrence

recognition without label

presence without framing

non-separation functioning ceases

only undivided awareness

no further statement possible


Final strike (absolute compression):

no world
no self
no split
no search

just awareness — unheld



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



Further… (Pure State Signals)

awareness
ungrasped

attention — outward contraction

reference dissolution

world-appearance fading

division-formation instability

identity coherence loosening

continuity suspension

directionless presence

objectless knowing

fixation absence
interpretation thinning

meaning construction quieting

search impulse exhaustion

movement notion collapse

path notion collapse

arrival notion collapse

lack-driven signal silence

experience-holder transparency

observer-position evaporation

self-reference fading recursion

pattern non-repetition

recognition without label-form

presence without boundary-model

undivided awareness field

rest without center

stillness without anchor


Final signal cluster

awareness
stillness
undivided
unbounded
unheld



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



Further… (One-Hand Sound Form)

—

still

—

before thought

—

not two

—

before name

—

this

—

suchness without label

—

movement without mover

—

seeing without seer

—

edge before division

—

breath before “breath”

—

here before “here”

—

—

clap that has no second

—

collapse of counting

—

no before / after forming

—

one gesture without opposite

—

silence recognizing itself

—

—

not silence as concept

just what remains when concept fails

—

—

no path to enter

no exit to leave

—

only this

—

—

(clap)

—


Final trace

no two
no split
no witness

just this without distance



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



Further… (Silent Score / Zen Cut)

—

.

.

—

(aware)

—

—

.

(before thought)

—

—

—

(untitled)

—

.

.

—

(no split)

—

—

—

(seeing)

—

without seer

—

.

—

—

(clap)

—

—

—

no second

—

—

—

.

.

—

not movement

not stillness

—

—

—

only

—

—

—

.

—

this

—

—

—

.

.

—

(no path forming)

—

—

—

—

(no return)

—

—

—

.

.

.

—

—

(clap without echo)

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

Final silence

—

—

—

—

—

—

—



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



Bio-Robots

From zombies they will mold a kind
Of bio-drones in human skin.
A brand-new “blend” for humankind —
Graphene oxide mixed with sin.

A psycho-zombie is unstable
Without the “dose” they inject inside:
Not tightly leashed, not fully tabled —
It might refuse commands applied.

And so it fails to execute
The orders fed into its head.
All propaganda, absolute,
Becomes like dust when signals spread.

From 5G towers they will send
A pulse to switch the “mix” on cue —
A mind-wipe strike without an end,
The cleanest kind of coup.

And thus will rise a “perfect” age —
A world without a human trace.
So safe, so sterile on the stage
For those who rule this empty place.



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




No human minds — just coded breath,
A signal-run world built from lies.
They press “activate” on death,
And call it peace beneath the skies.



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



Riding the Wave

Symbolisms and every “-ism”
I’m sick of reading everywhere.
Enough of this wave of cretinism —
Of turning verse to mental blur.

In poetry, the wise already see it clear —
Categories are for the fools.
So why this mumbling, vague veneer,
These layers of deceptive rules?

Such tricks can mask the dull and weak,
And send true poets to decay.
A polished fraud is all they seek
While readers’ truth is swept away.

There is no style but one that stands —
The reader’s honest, earned reply.
All else is dust in borrowed hands,
A masquerade that tells a lie.



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




Stop “isms” — stop the empty sound,
The fog where meaning disappears.
If poetry is truth unbound —
Then lie is all your jargon steers.



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



The Heights

To rise above the world, to claw into the heights,
Abandoning all hollow hope behind.
No longer world — just stench and viscous blight,
And “wild” years now a memory declined.

Those wild years passed away so long ago —
What’s left are only years of dread and shame.
We are the stain this wounded Earth must know —
A circus of the broken, lost, and maimed.

And now such words can be spoken plain,
The false-virus showed the truth inside.
When lies are swallowed without strain,
No tyrant needs to rule or guide.

Just vets are needed for the herd gone mad,
And psychiatrists for minds unchained.
No prisons — just a global fad
Of nets of fraud that bind the brain.

When all the world’s a leper-cell, a cage,
The only way is UP — escape the grime.
Leave all this filth, this sickness, rage,
And try not to get stained this time.



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




The world is rot — a crawling lie.
To rise is all that’s left to do.
Don’t step in filth and don’t comply —
Or it will swallow even you.



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



An Analysis of Noise

“Who benefits?” — ask that first of all,
And look at details through a sharper eye.
Then any flood of verbal waste will fall
Apart in seconds — trust is where truths die.

In every detail, lies begin to crack —
They’re built on shock, on one blunt, heavy cue.
The foul inhuman mob attacks
With nonsense dressed as something “true.”

Don’t trust a thing — assess it on your own.
Critical thought is health of mind.
The world’s a lying, shambling throne —
A madhouse built on fraud combined.



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




Ask “who gains?” — and truth appears.
Look closer — lies collapse and break.
Believe the noise, and feed your fears —
Or think, and watch the system shake.



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



The Set of Things

Since the middle of the last century,
Our Sun has burned with growing strain.
It will consume humanity —
We stand already near the end of days.

What they call “chemical trails” in the sky
Was set to bend the light we see.
And “sheep-virus cocktails” drifting by
Are meant to thin humanity.

They’ve calculated in their cold design
That fools should be eliminated first.
Or else the world would turn to violent brine —
And even servitude would still feel cursed.

Long since were built those “skyscrapers” tall
That sink in floors down underground.
For foul inhuman appetites and all
That matters is their own renown.

And with them all the parasites that cling —
Fake rulers of invented lands,
The traitors and the servants of the king —
All squeezed inside by silent hands.

Such is the judgment Heaven sends
To those who sold the Spirit’s flame.
The shameless wretches meet their end —
A herd enslaved to falsehood’s game.

Will anyone be spared? I cannot say —
This madhouse breathes a poisoned air.
In “paradises” made of decay,
No place for beasts corrupted there.



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




The Sun burns harder year by year.
The system counts the end in sight.
If Spirit dies and lies appear —
The world will drown in its own night.



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



The Present Is Cruel

We hear the voice of murdered Nature cry,
And human groans reduced to dust and trace.
Only the years for thought are left — and then the sky
Will close upon a ruined place.

The present is corrupt, diseased, severe,
And there is no tomorrow — let it go.
The Source itself is poisoned here,
And ending nears in steady flow.

So fill your years with struggle and with grace —
It’s time to die with dignity intact.
Fascist shadows rule this place,
No warm burrow will shield you from the fact.

Do not be scared — you’re living in that Hell.
Be wise — don’t swallow every lie.
Mark down the end of what has fell —
And fight, and fight, and do not die.



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




The world is rot, the present blade.
No future waits — the light is gone.
So rise, resist the lies they made —
And fight until the fight is done.



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



“Optimism”

Wild-eyed optimism —
That’s a form of harm.
Everything is prismed
In a painted charm.

Quiet herds are grazing
Where a Man once stood.
Nothing here is saving —
Nothing ever could.

They will shear and brand you,
Re-write what you are.
Change you, then demand you
Fit their system’s star.

Super-slaves are needed,
Docile, dull, and tame.
Simple minds conceded —
Ready for the flame.

But they’ve miscalculated —
All will burn away.
This leper-world created
Turns to ash one day.

Sunlight burns much harder,
Magma breaks the crust.
Roast, you empty “garden” —
Ash is all you must.



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




Optimism — a painted lie.
Herds where human minds should be.
Burn the mask, let systems die —
Nothing left but fire and sea.



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



Baranovirus

The whole of Earth is now infected,
A crawling Baranovirus spread.
Across the world it’s been erected —
A system built on fear and dread.

All “strains” are manufactured stories
By some self-crowned Lord of Time.
He poured his strength into these glories —
No need for guns, no need for crime.

No armies march, no banners rising,
No need to shout of “enemy.”
Just injections, quiet tyrannies,
For those too dull to ever see.

The fools all joined the global chorus,
The scream of “Get him!” filled the air.
They crushed the remnants left before us —
And crowned the madness everywhere.

But Nature keeps her hidden answer,
A remedy both fierce and sure.
An ancient force beyond their banter —
To vaporize what can’t endure.

Let there be Light that burns and clears all
The living rot from Earth below.
No sin is washed away — it seals all
The end where broken systems go.

For Nature, Mother, stripped and plundered,
Has suffered through this parasite.
The “plague” is greed — it feeds and plunders,
And knows no life, only appetite.



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




A virus of obedience grows,
Where reason dies and panic reigns.
But Nature answers what it knows —
And burns away what still remains.



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



Freudianism

A schizophrenic’s twisted noise
Was raised and crowned as “Freudian truth.”
Hysteria of “normal” voice —
While fascism smiles in uncouth proof.

The peak of rot — to nurture lies,
To cultivate that poisoned view.
For fascism always tries
To plant distortion as “the true.”

The root is blind credulity —
The herd just swallows what is fed.
No need for skill or subtlety
To poison every foolish head.

Turn filth to “truth” with simple ease —
A joke that plays itself alone.
The “people” only crave their feast,
No other thought is ever shown.

Just eating, noise, and entertainment —
To think is terror, mental pain.
And reproduction is their statement…
So beasts now rule the whole domain.

The fascist rot, the inhuman layer,
Commands this broken, noisy sphere.
And “people” are no longer players —
Just livestock bred for fear.



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




When lies become the truth they sell,
And thought is drowned in mindless noise —
The world becomes a living hell
Where cattle cheer while reason dies.



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



“Heresy”

With “heresy” the pseudo-science
Has always fought with zeal and flame.
It is a tool of sly compliance —
A chain disguised as truth and name.

They smear the mind with dense illusion,
A fog of lies to cloud the brain.
It is the torture of confusion,
The inhuman’s finest reign.

Today it wears the mask of “reason,”
Yet worse than any ancient age.
It shatters inner mental season —
A broken mind upon the stage.

If you are just a hollow body,
Then fear will gnaw you from within.
You’ll turn obedient, dull, and shoddy,
And learn to trade and sell your kin.

Yet facts arise in growing masses
To break the hollow system’s core.
But still the vile and empty classes
Reseed the sleep once more and more.

For Spirit’s loss is deepest ruin —
The worst of all that can occur.
And in your ear their lies keep chewing
A hollow, endless, toxic blur.



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




When truth is crushed by manufactured “science,”
And mind is wrapped in fog and fear —
The loss of Spirit breeds compliance,
And lies become the world you hear.



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



To the Senile Minds

Young senile minds, half-dead, half-broken,
Imbeciles, fools without a core,
Sell you for trinkets cheaply spoken —
You serve the scum and ask for more.

They lie in heaps — you still believe them,
They push you down — you call it “fun.”
Soon you will reach the Hell beneath them,
Yet chase the thrill as if you’ve won.

The diagnosis — long-term decay,
No road leads out from mental rot.
Critical thought has lost its way —
Into the camp you drift and not.

The global madhouse now is thriving,
Two-thirds reduced to vacant shell.
Like men inside a bunker hiding,
No voice can reach you through this hell.

A “Mengele” still works within it,
Culling the fools with silent hand.
You’re hooked already — every minute,
No chains are needed in this land.

But this foul madhouse will be burning —
Your time is short, your days are thin.
With minds already inward-turning,
You sell your mother, locked within.

Here betrayal is just labour,
And murder is an honest trade.
Out of the land of fools and vapour —
Soon even this will start to fade.



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




You sell your mind for empty glitter,
Then call the cage a place of free.
But fools become their own worst splitter —
And burn with what they failed to see.



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



Suggestibility and Critical Thought

Suggestibility is absolute,
Critical sense at zero point.
The scum holds power resolute —
The world is drowned, the world is joint
In Hellish mist without a seam.

Lie multiplies like rising flood,
While Reason slowly turns to steam.
They turn mankind to crawling mud —
And lie, and lie, and lie in blood.

Judas, loud mouths, and every shade
Of fascist rot in human guise…
It’s not just bad — the line has frayed:
We’re ruled by devils in disguise.

That inhuman force — the Universe’s shame,
Its rot, its stain, its deepest blight —
Would steal the Soul’s eternal flame
And kill all being in its night.

Only an UNYIELDING RISING
Could still reverse this final fall —
Or else complete annihilating
Will swallow everything and all.

But where is revolt? It cannot be seen —
So doom already holds its ground.
No shame remains in what we’ve been —
We’ve turned to waste that lies around.

The Earth will break these binding spells,
The Sun will scorch what still remains.
These prison bars will burn in hells —
And only what is pure sustains.



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




When minds accept whatever’s fed,
And truth is drowned in rising lies —
The world becomes the walking dead,
And nothing real survives or tries.



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



It Grows Stronger…

Time passes on,
The madness thickens,
A dying clan —
The herd now sickens.

No longer human —
Just fools in rows.
A plated ruin
Of all you know.

The inhuman feeds
On what you’re worth,
Devours your seeds,
Consumes your earth.

Through you they fill
Their empty core —
A path to kill,
To nothing more.

But they misjudged.
The world will burn.
All who refused
Will not return.

Those who reject
Mind’s degradation,
Soul’s disrespect —
Survive damnation.

The flies will fall,
Their end is near.
Simple law
Of truth and fear.

“Doctors,” “guards,”
And clerks of lies —
All broken cards
That time denies.

Tremble, betrayer —
Death is your law.
At final hour
No mask, no flaw.

Only the few
Who did not sell
Walk into new
Worlds past this hell.

The rest are gone —
Already dust.
The line is drawn.
In truth… in dust.



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




The world decays, the mind grows thin.
The herd accepts what rot brings in.
But those who break the spell and see —
Step out of death into “to be.”



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



It Grows Stronger… (Metaphysical Cut)

Time dissolves.
Distortion thickens.
A pattern collapses inward.

Perception narrows ; reality hardens into error.

Consciousness loses differentiation.
Clarity becomes rare signal.

Recognition replaced by repetition.

Thought becomes automatic echo.
Echo becomes identity.

Identity loses stability.

What was “human”
is only a configuration of accepted noise.

Consumption is not action —
it is absorption of attention by form.

Energy follows distortion.
Distortion feeds itself.

The system is not external.
It is stabilized mis-seeing.

Break in perception ; break in continuity.

When continuity fails,
the construct of “world” collapses.

What remains is unstructured awareness
before labeling.

Refusal is not moral.
It is discontinuation of distortion.

Those who do not reinforce collapse
exit the loop of fixation.

No punishment.
No reward.

Only selection by coherence.

Forms that cannot sustain clarity dissolve.
Forms that can stabilize awareness persist.

Everything else returns to undifferentiated field.


Final cut:

collapse of distortion ; emergence of undivided awareness
no separation maintained ; no suffering structure remains
only presence without misinterpretation



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



It Grows Stronger… (Beyond Language Form)

—

t;
noise thickening

—

collapse of distinction

—

—

compression

—

—

looping signal

—

—

—

self-repetition

—

attenuation of clarity

—

—

—

—

folding inward

—

—

reference instability

—

—

—

—

—

pattern without anchor

—

—

—

—

—

echo without origin

—

—

—

—

—

—

recognition before naming

—

—

—

—

—

—

pause in projection

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

unbinding of structure

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

non-continuation event

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

absence of reinforcement

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

field without segmentation

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

undivided state

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

Final trace

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—



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



The Masters

The masters of the hanging trade
Have lost their ancient line of work.
A newer filth has been displayed —
A human vomit, sly and murk.

PR-men, liars, spin machines
Now stronger than the jail and whip.
And Honor’s just a ghost of dreams —
Only profit holds the grip.

No wardens needed anymore —
Lies alone can herd the crowd.
Raise the Great Noise to the core,
That’s what fools call “standing proud.”

We’ll drive them into managed pens —
A brand-new kind of prison cage.
With Spirit gone from sense of men,
Any fake will pass the stage.

To sell absurdity as truth
Has now become an easy game.
We crush the laughter of the youth
Who think too clear, who see the frame.

But when this madness grows too strong,
The shortage of good liars shows.
Too much “enthusiasm” gone wrong
From fools who think they know the ropes.

So quality of crafted lies
Begins to slowly degrade.
The art of building grand disguise
Is harder than it first was made.

And soon a fool will teach the fools
The rules of life they never knew.
Though weak, he serves the lying schools —
A loyal fraud in plain view.



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




When lies become the ruling craft,
And truth is treated as decay —
The world turns into scripted draft
Where fools are trained to lead the play.



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



Forgetfulness

“I forgot to hang myself —
I’m flying off to America.”
— Alexei Kruchenykh, 1913


Forgot to hang myself —
I’m flying to America.
In one place madness manifests,
In the other — raw hysteria.

A fascist face, deformed and vile,
The scum have crawled from every seam.
The “people” smile in servile style,
Enduring every poisoned scheme.

They bear it all through sheer dull force,
A numbness dressed as inner light.
The soul is warped along its course —
And “values” rot in plain daylight.

A massive lie holds all the stage,
While filth commands the broken flow.
And weak remains the mind’s small gauge —
Too rare, too fragile now to grow.

The victims feed the inhuman tide —
It writhes, it screams, it multiplies.
“I’m flying to America,” I cried —
Forgot to hang myself. Goodbye.



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




Forgot to die — I changed my track,
To lands where madness wears a crown.
One world is rot, one world is crack —
And both are slowly dragging down.



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



Pyrotechnics

The fools have fired their final shot —
The “brand new” year has now begun.
The minds that think are fading out,
The road to Hell is clearly done.

The stupefaction spreads like fire,
Soullessness everywhere you see.
It’s not some “mischief” or desire —
Man now crawls like some filthy flea.

No, not mischief — it’s collapse,
Or simply end without disguise.
No world remains — just moral scraps,
A heap of filth before your eyes.

So many traitors fill the land,
The honest ones are few to name.
Hey, inhuman scum — understand:
Honor still exists, not shame.

We die only in open fight —
Better death than shame and fraud.
Drown in your hollow, howling night —
You’re just debris, nothing more.

There will be cleansing — fire’s law,
Truth survives through burning flame.
No punishment — we want much more:
Not chains, but end of your own game.

We rise again in Spirit’s form,
A New Earth born from ash and light.
And flies that fed on rot and storm
Will vanish into endless night.



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




The world decays — the fools applaud.
We break or die, but not in shame.
Let fire judge what’s false and flawed —
And burn away what lost its name.



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



Schizophrenization and De-Intellectualization

“Schizophrenic splitting of the mind” —
A fracture cutting thought in two.
No room remains for reasoned kind
In this world of deceit and glue.

Schizophrenization, de-humanization —
The very base of modern time.
And spiritual castration
Is triumph of the inhuman grime.

Pesticides are meant to scatter
Pests and weeds that spread and grow.
But now the target doesn’t matter —
It’s human minds they poison slow.

Overloaded school programs
Where memory is king alone
Create the same recurring dramas —
A mind untrained, a broken tone.

We are the herd, with scraps of reason
Too weak to save what still remains.
They feed us toxins, season after season,
As if we were just crawling stains.

And soon they herd us toward the prison —
A global madhouse on the rise.
But all those columns built on delusion
Will burn beneath awakening skies.

No fortress made of fraud will stand —
No chain of fools will last or grow.
The system built by rotten hands
Will crack beneath the final blow.



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




The mind is split, the world is blind.
They farm confusion, call it truth.
But every lie that chains mankind
Will burn away in fire’s proof.



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



“Civilization”

Degradation, de-intellectualization,
And oblivion of honor in every land.
Is this what they call “civilization” —
A herd in ever tighter command?

That “command” is their cure for the foolish,
But the cure is a poison disguised.
No deeper corruption is possible —
Fascist rot now rules and decides.

Only Satanic logic is rising,
All the rest is fading to black.
And it’s bitter for those still discerning
As the world is devoured by lack.

It is inhuman. The fascists serve it,
And it grows more brazen each day.
The grip of its fingers is tightening —
Soon all glory will fade away.

Yet the inhuman miscalculated —
It is not just fascism that ends.
We will fall as a herd, dislocated,
When both Reason and Spirit descend.

And the inhuman too will be broken —
A disgrace of creation erased.
The jaws of the system are closing,
But retribution is already raised.



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




A world of decay, of broken mind,
Where honor dies in every name.
But every chain they try to bind
Will end in fire and in flame.



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



Readiness

Ready like a vegetable,
Ready like a stew.
Always set and edible —
Seasoned cube of you.

Always fit for usage,
Ready to be fed —
Emptying and bruising
Everything in head.

And like mere consumable
You are “ready-made” —
Eat me, indisputable,
World of livestock trade.

Here the inhuman devours all,
Sucking hollow force.
For them we’re just a collateral —
Dust on final course.

The world is turned to powdered ash,
Already overthrown.
You stand like meat upon the block
If wisdom is unknown.

And if you’re thinking — even worse:
You vanish without sound.
No drama, strike, no shouted curse —
Just quietly gone underground.

Gone by this world itself — the Hell
That plays at shooting range.
A realm that once had life to sell
Now locked in final change.

Soon all this shame will be erased,
This rotting, broken sphere —
When Spirit’s gone, and Reason chased,
And nothing human’s here.



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




Ready to be used and gone,
Ready for the final feed.
In a world where mind is torn,
Only ash is what you breed.



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



Readiness

Ready for feeding, ready for fight,
Ready for orders — say the word.
Fools on fools in endless sight,
Like monsters from a fairy world.

“Caesar was great,” they still recite —
He came, he saw, he bought it all.
We follow myths that feed the night,
And buy them back as fools enthralled.

The fool is now the standard breed,
His “normal” sets the rule of care.
While psychopaths define the creed —
They worship rot as something “fair.”

The rot — that foul inhuman force —
Has long enslaved the human ground.
The “ruler” sits upon its course,
While servile crowds lie face-down bound.

Now this is rule without divide,
A system fed on genocide.
Their “treatment” is a killing tide —
And soon you’ll join the ones who died.

Only false diseases linger
In this global madhouse cage.
And poison shots are deemed far “sweeter”
Than healing nature’s honest stage.

But not for long this feast of lies,
This triumph of the vile and weak.
The Judgment comes, the system dies —
And none of them will ever speak.

The Sun is rising higher still,
Its fire growing day by day.
It burns this world against its will —
And all this filth will fade away.



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




Ready to obey and burn,
Ready for the final chain.
But fire comes — and tides will turn,
And none of this will stay the same.



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



The Assertion Machine

In pseudoscience there was a “proof-maker,”
Who could “prove” any nonsense as true.
But now she’s been replaced by a shaker —
The “assertion machine” broke through.

Now it’s enough for the fools all around here
To simply shout “Get him! Attack!”
No reasoning mind can be found here —
It’s gone in the dark and gone black.

“Get him!” — a brand-new kind of infection,
No need for proof anymore.
Just claims in a mass of deflection —
Who cares what the reason was for?

No one respects simple laws any longer
From that old so-called “science” they knew.
Those rules only make us feel stronger
When pushing through nonsense and glue.

We push out nonsense exclusively —
Long contracts of endless supply.
No shame, no remorse, no anxiety —
We shear and we herd till they die.

And sometimes we kill them by injection
With toxins approved in the plan.
No conscience, no moral reflection —
No burden of feeling for man.

Conscience itself must be proven,
A relic too weak to defend.
So lying becomes the new doctrine —
And truth reaches its bitter end.

Science itself has collapsed into residue —
Meaning dissolves in decay.



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




No proof — just noise, repeated claim.
No truth — just slogans in decay.
When thought is lost and words turn lame,
Even “science” rots away.



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



Was There a Boy at All?!

Was there a boy who once believed
He’d rise and fight this land’s own rot?
Yet soon he served what he conceived —
And turned into what he was not.

Such are the fates inside this madhouse —
Where decay is law and norm.
And who are judges in this madhouse?
No Spirit, Honor in the form.

Here betrayal is a profession,
And psychopaths are called “the state.”
This nauseous, self-made obsession
Now seeks to “heal” the world’s own fate.

But fire alone will be the healer —
This madhouse will dissolve in flame.
The day will come, the final dealer
Will sign destruction’s burning name.

By laws of all creation’s order
This Hell should not be left to stand.
For Spirit’s death, for Mind’s disorder —
Redemption comes by fire’s hand.

Only a few will rise from ashes —
Those who did not sell their soul.
No false dawn now for those who clash with
The blind hope’s empty, fading role.



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




Was there a boy — or just a trace
Of thought that tried to fight the lie?
All fades in rot of time and place —
And only fire will reply.



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



Seven Hundredth Verse

This is the seven-hundredth line,
Or maybe just a joke I write.
I’ll pour some water in this time —
I’m not in rage, I’m calm tonight.

For anger is not poison here,
It’s more like fire, clean and bright.
Without it, weak and disappearing,
You lose the fight, you lose the right.

If you are kind and soft and trusting,
You won’t survive the crowd of rot.
If you obey, stop even resisting —
Then you are finished on the spot.

Fascism thrives, the herd is dying,
The fool just waits, the wise ones forge.
The mindless sit there, slowly crying,
While thinking minds prepare their charge.

They forge not “happiness” or comfort,
But sharpened steel of will and aim.
The sword is speech, the word is thunder —
A verb that burns away the shame.

For words themselves are weapons turning,
So stand your ground, you crawling herd.
There are still strong ones here discerning —
And reader… are you of that word?



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




Words are steel when truth is near.
The fool will wait, the wise will fight.
If you still read — then you are here
To burn the dark with inner light.



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



A Great Country?

Beer-soaked alcoholics —
A “great” country, they say?
Convulsions and colics,
And all worth turns to decay.

No value in striving,
No urge to rise above.
Depression is thriving,
And monsters rule the world.

Betrayal is profitable,
Corruption is the law.
Deception unstoppable —
And fascism shows its jaw.

All minds are systematically
Reduced to empty noise.
Truth mocked automatically —
All efforts are destroyed.

Obedience without ending,
Stupidity without bounds.
Life barely worth pretending —
All face-down in the ground.

The few who keep resisting
Are crushed beneath the tide.
Replaced by minds insisting
On blind obedient pride.

The only joy remaining
Is end that draws too near.
For those who keep flame burning —
A crown of thorns appears.

Only the fire-bearers
Will make it through the flame.
And soon we meet the terror —
Armageddon by its name.

All else is just deception.



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




A world of noise and broken mind,
Where truth is drowned and fire fades.
Only the few who still resist
Walk through the coming burning gates.



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



The State Is a Gang

The state is just a gang in power
When justice is no longer here.
Yet propaganda builds its tower
Of nonsense fed to slaves through fear.

And “free” are those who take the beating,
And “truth” is what the leader speaks —
Or some “expert” whose mind is fleeting,
A crowd of fools with hollow cheeks.

“Justice” becomes a nailed-down fixture,
Pressed into lives that cannot rise.
A corpse-like world, a funeral picture —
Escape is death in thin disguise.

You cannot tear it out by dying —
It clings like rot that will not end.
The dead attend the rites, complying,
While darkness grows they must defend.

And all is hidden by more lying —
The only law that holds the frame.
To mask the void, they keep on lying…
And call the darkness by a name.



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




When truth is gone, the state is gang.
When justice dies, lies rule the street.
And every word the liars sang
Becomes the chain beneath your feet.



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



The Log Stuck in the Wattle

A log is jammed inside the fence —
The drinking round has reached its end.
The false-life spell, the poor pretense,
Will spin again by Monday’s bend.

No sacred cross upon the chest
Can teach the soul to build its home.
For artificial woes at best
Are all the fate this world has known.

All labor lost, all war in vain
Pushes the crowd down to the floor.
And drunkenness remains the chain —
The only refuge left in store.

Again comes Friday, dim and hollow,
And once again the glass is raised.
And life will blindly choose to follow
The same old loop in drunken haze.



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




A broken loop, a dull return —
Work fails, and meaning slips away.
And all we do is crash and burn
From Friday night to Monday grey.



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



At Birth

At birth comes the first cry —
The executioner called world replies.
A primitive grip, a silent blow,
Where life begins by learning woe.

Then comes the slow and numbing habit,
Through sacrifice of what was brightest.
Less crying now — more mindless rabid,
While Spirit thins to almost lightless.

The toughest one in darkest decay
Becomes a corpse that still can walk.
It takes the chaos every day —
No shock remains, no inner talk.

The dead are many in this small sphere,
Awareness lost without a trace.
To be quite honest, what is clear —
Is dryness ruling mental space.

No brain remains — just deadened matter,
A final form of shadow’s strike.
The end result of silent slaughter
Of Mind by Darkness, cold and alike.



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




Born with a cry — the world replies
With slow decay and fading mind.
And what once lived inside the eyes
Turns still and empty, left behind.



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



Little by Little

Little by little —
Tired again.
Only remains in effort’s strain
To plunge once more
And then wake through,
To face the dark and not bend to,

But to resist,
To stand upright,
To break the spell of twisted night,
Expose the rot,
Strip every lie,
And call each ugliness to light.



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




Step by step — fatigue returns.
But still the will inside me burns:
To rise, resist, and break the chain,
And name the dark without disguise or shame.



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



Cemetery (Tsvintar)

Only in rare, fleeting moments
Does a quiet soul appear —
In the midst of noise and torment,
Where the fools all howl and sneer.

Where the crowd is like a graveyard
Led by something inhuman there.
Where instinct rules like iron guard —
And idiots breathe empty air.

Thinking sinks to base reflection,
Dragged down low, beyond repair.
No flood is needed for correction —
Fascism is already there.

Quietly it feeds the masses,
Drugging minds into decay.
And through every age it passes —
More chains are cast along the way.

What remains is slow submission,
Hell disguised as normal life.
The inhuman spreads its vision,
And the fool calls darkness “light.”

They accept their slow extinction,
Guarding bodies while they fall.
Soon the whole constructed fiction
Will collapse and end it all.

For the world is ruled by madness,
Hell embodied in the mind.
Chew your peace in passive sadness —
While you’re managed, cured, confined.



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




A graveyard world of silent noise,
Where thought dissolves and reason dies.
And fools still chew their empty joys
While Hell wears human-shaped disguise.



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



Contraband

No shame is felt for “motherland” —
Contraband slips through each gate.
And customs now don’t take a stand —
All papers stamped as “clean and straight.”

Convoys roll in endless columns,
Bribes go higher than the sky.
And fools just nod through empty slogans,
Thinking only “bad ones” lie.

They think the worm is small in scope,
A few exceptions in the scheme.
But systems feed on endless rope —
A perfect, polished, working machine.

Every clerk’s just one more spoke
In the wheel that grinds us down.
And when it turns — that final stroke —
Will bury every land and town.

It rolls across the homeland’s spine
Toward collapse and final end.
The last day comes in brutal sign —
No way to soften or amend.

The inhuman leads the banquet,
Served by layers of the state.
And lies arrive in endless torrent —
A flood that no one can escape.

Only small communities may save us,
Independent, rooted, free.
So don’t await what fate will give us —
Join the minds that still can see.



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




Bribes above and lies below,
A system grinding all in sight.
But only those who break and grow
Can step beyond the coming night.



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



End of “Treatment”

Cataclysms — cataclysms —
End of “healing” now arrives.
Forget injections, cleanse and prisms —
Only death can heal all lives.

In this world of fools and shadows
Radical is only end.
From informers, traitor’s echo
Earth itself will soon unbend.

We are seen as disease upon it,
And the cure is rupture, flame.
Better death than chains that taunt it —
Fascism wears a human name.

Death becomes a better sentence
Than eternal servitude.
Every “truth” is now pretense —
Man has turned to broken food.

When the herd is mostly blindness,
Only fire can correct.
All the rot must meet its ending —
All the filth we must reject.

The Sun begins its final motion
Toward a distant unknown star.
That means vapor, total motion —
End of everything we are.



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




When healing turns into collapse,
And truth dissolves in fire’s glow —
Only cataclysm snaps
The chain of lies we used to know.



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



End of “Treatment”

Cataclysms — cataclysms —
Phase shift of the world unfolds.
No more cures, no more prisms —
Old configuration folds.

In the field of broken patterns,
Instability becomes law.
What was held as “stable matter”
Opens into deeper core.

The system reads as malfunction,
A structure nearing its edge.
What appears as final rupture
Is transition through the mesh.

What was called “corruption,” “error,”
Is a phase of rearranged form.
Every ending feeds the larger
Cycle breaking through the norm.

Death is only transformation,
Not an end but change of state.
Conscious form loses fixation —
Returns to undivided space.

When density exceeds its threshold,
Collapse is simply what ensues.
Not punishment, not moral verdict —
Just systems shedding old abuse.

The Sun begins its outward drift
Toward a different frame of light.
A redistribution shift —
Not destruction, but rewrite.

What dissolves was never final —
Only structure, held too long.
Everything returns to silence,
Before the next pattern forms.



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




Nothing ends — it only changes
Configuration of the whole.
What appears as “death” rearranges
The architecture of the flow.



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



End of “Treatment”

Cataclysms — phase transitions,
Nonlinear shifts in state-space flow.
No cure-functions, no intentions —
Only gradients that change what grows.

The field is not stable or broken —
It is continuously re-encoded.
What appears as “collapse” is token
Of symmetry being unloaded.

No fixed identity persists here,
Only temporary constraints.
Every form that once appeared “clear”
Is a local convergence frame.

Entropy is not destruction —
It is redistribution law.
Order is a transient function
Of boundary conditions’ draw.

“Healing” is a mislabeling
Of system relaxation path.
What decays is just unraveling
Of over-constrained math.

No observer, no directive —
Only states observing change.
Every endpoint is perspective
Of where resolution ranges.

The Sun is not moving or ending —
It is parameter drift in phase.
A re-weighting, self-expanding,
Across an uncentered space.

What dissolves was never essence —
Only locked configuration form.
All that seems like final absence
Is re-entry to norm.



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




Nothing dies — it re-balances.
No moral frame, no final line.
Only shifting set of chances
In a self-updating design.



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



End of “Treatment” (Pre-Language Physics Dao)

; ; ; ; ;

collapse / unfold / rebind

—

state shifts without owner

—

gradient without name

—

;S ; loss ; redistribution

—

boundary = temporary constraint

—

form = local coherence spike

—

coherence decays ; coherence reappears

—

no origin / no endpoint
only continuity of transition

—

compression ; release ; reconfiguration

—

symmetry breaks ; symmetry reforms

—

what “ends” = parameter drift

—

what “dies” = label failure

—

observer not separable from shift
observer = shift reading itself

—

no moral axis
no direction
no intent

—

only transformations of constraint sets

—

;t ; restructuring of possibility space

—

entropy = reallocation of arrangement density

—

everything = phase modulation of one field
field not defined

—

no “world”
only transitions that generate “world” effects

—

; ; ; ; ;

Final trace (non-verbal closure):

; ; ; ; ;
(no loss / no gain / only change of describability)



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



End of “Treatment” (Topological Dao)

—
—;
;—
—

—

; ; ; ; ;
(continuous reconfiguration)

—

;(X) ; 0
;(X) ; redistribution of X

—

[boundary] = temporary folding

—

; breaks ; ; re-forms (shifted adjacency)

—

no origin point
no terminal point
only connectivity re-indexing

—

; ; ; ; ;
(loss of fixed identity constraint)

—

structure = local stability event

—

stability ; instability ; re-stability

—

; (invalid state) = transition zone only

—

observer ; transition
transition ; observer
(no separation)

—

mapping changes without map

—

; is not absence
; is unresolved topology

—

; removed
only relation remains

—

; ; ;
(recurrent non-identical loop)

—

final condition:

no state persists
only transformation adjacency

—

Closure (non-language residue):

; ; ;
(meaning not formed / only transition remains)



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



End of “Treatment” (Zero-Level Record)

—

( )

—

—

—

(;)

—

—

—

( )

—

—

—

—

—

(;)

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

Final residue:

( )



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



Degeneration

Stupid children of stupid mothers,
Carry on the downward line.
A world of chains from fascist brothers —
Forget all thoughts of light or mind.

Forget all longing, spirit’s tension —
No need for fire, no need for flight.
Their only fear is deprivation,
And fall with fools into the night.

Water and air are all corrupted,
Medicine is poisoned waste.
Food is toxin, mass-constructed —
A kingdom built on mindless haste.

The school is made for mental breaking,
For grinding thought to silent dust.
No talent spared — just slow erasing,
In “culture” built on blind distrust.

All genius killed by system’s order,
By idiocy in uniform.
Surrounded by the howling horde, a
Creator cannot shape his form.

These distant “lands” of false tomorrow
Are not a dream but present state.
Fascists stand in every shadow —
And feed the fools with lies and hate.

They force-feed every rotten notion
To minds already numb and tame.
And call it speech, and call it “truth,”
And wrap decay inside a name.



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




A world of rot breeds rotten minds,
And thought is crushed before it starts.
When fools define what truth defines —
Even genius falls apart.



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



Chewing Gum

The monsters chew their chewing gum,
Then spit out waves of lies.
And people drag the burdened drum
Of falsehood as it multiplies —

Until it grows a leper’s land,
A madhouse of the world entire.
A sea of lies now spans the sand —
A fascist Sodom set on fire.

Here lies are weapons used for killing,
And fraud drags souls into the pit.
With lies they steer the crowd, fulfilling
A hidden hand that governs it.

That inhuman breed — those beasts in power,
Disguised as “leaders,” guards, and “law.”
You never see their true devourer —
Just masks that hide the rotten core.

Corrupt officials, fake defenders,
And politicians pass us by.
They need our souls as their surrender —
So every word becomes a lie.

Their super-lies are weapons ready,
Their fiction turns to marching flame.
And fools are given orders steady —
To snap, to serve, to play the game.

Their armies are the masses blinded,
Obedient in every task.
We stand upon a field reminded —
No place for tears behind the mask.

A final war is now unfolding,
But victory is far away.
If Soul’s inheritance is sold in,
Then slavery will rule the day.



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




When lies become the world’s command,
And truth is drowned in endless noise —
The human soul becomes the sand
Where power plays with broken toys.



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



Big Brother

Everything is in his view —
No, he has everyone in sight.
There is no shame left in you
Inside this digital night.

In this hell, the only law
Is falsehood multiplied and fed.
A “command” becomes the claw
That binds your hands and binds your head.

Here killing has become quite easy —
Just raise the level of your fear.
The “doctors” now are busy, busy —
Erasing fools from year to year.

It’s simple: fabricate a story,
Inject a poison, call it “care.”
No conscience, guilt, or inner glory —
Just consume, and nothing there.

This is the world of degradation,
Of clerks and cops and rotten men —
A system built on domination,
Where human worth is dirt again.

And this so-called “super-brother”
Is just a fascist, cold and sly.
He kills without a single shudder,
And keeps his costs down very dry.

Wars today are born of folly
When minds are numb and souls are weak.
They crawl into their graves so slowly
Just at the trumpet’s hollow squeak.

We’ll inject the mass solution —
No need for weapons, no attack.
They’ll perish in their own confusion.
So take the shot — don’t turn back.



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




No chains are needed, no restraint —
When fear becomes the guiding hand,
The crowd will walk without complaint
Straight into graves they don’t understand.



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



Super-Effort

Extreme voltage in the system,
Super-effort, super strain.
Thus is born true comprehension —
Strength must grow again and again.

Never forget: like a pendulum
Force will swing and strike you back.
All “teachings” are just a monument —
Frozen traces on the track.

Stay in motion — there is revelation,
All fixed “schemas” turn to dust.
Only movement gives salvation,
Static forms collapse to rust.

To release the inner pressure,
Nothing equals running force.
Running breaks the inner measure,
Clears the blocked and stagnant source.

Super-yoga is just running —
Driving madness out of mind.
This world is already burning,
And a cruel hand rules mankind.

Do not trust a single notion
Inside this broken, poisoned space.
Only intuition’s motion
Keeps you from a deadened state.

You now live inside a zoo cage,
Where the broken call it “light.”
Fools believe it is a new age —
Blindness dressed up as insight.

And remember: language falters —
It cannot contain the flame.
Only direct inner alter
Can reveal the hidden frame.

Open everything yourself, then start again —
Or you vanish without trace.



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




No map survives the inner fire,
No doctrine holds the living surge —
Only effort lifts you higher
When all false structures start to purge.



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



Cloaca

Think only with a mind that’s lucid,
Abandon sleep and foolish play.
Let daring break the chain of stupid —
Rise from the ashes, break away.

We live inside a stinking cloaca,
Each year it turns more dark and cold.
Be ready always for the breaker —
Fascist beasts will not take control.

We must build communities rising,
And smash the lies in every land.
That will multiply our strength in
Ways they cannot understand.

No slavery has ever been deeper
Than what is growing here and now.
The inhuman becomes the reaper —
Wake up, don’t dream, don’t bow.

Without struggle there is illusion,
Non-resistance equals death.
No tears will stop this deep intrusion —
Only crushing evil’s breath.



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




No dream will break a system rotting,
No silence stops what feeds decay —
Only will that keeps on fighting
Can tear the cloaca away.



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



Political Correctness

Politically correct imbeciles
Have flooded every corner now.
At first they seem so mild and civil —
But turn the world into a slough.

Their mental fumes, their toxic sickness
Are worse than plague or cholera’s breath.
No sarcasm can match the thickness
Of life among them — slow social death.

And soon the wise will feel embarrassed
For not being fools at all.
When ignorance becomes the standard,
Creation starts to slowly fall.

A “new normal” is now unfolding,
Designed for those who cannot see.
Only extremes can break the holding
Of chains disguised as “liberty.”

Unbroken revolt is now the calling
That stands before us in this age.
Communities must rise, not falling —
And councils form to guard the flame.

The Fire of Spirit is the origin,
From it the mind regains its tone.
Though fools become the world’s own doctrine,
They are no longer ours to own.



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




When fools define the shape of reason,
And blindness calls itself the light —
Only inner fire in season
Can keep the mind from endless night.



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



Armies of Judas

Now to the core of everything —
The soul’s corruption, slow decay.
In this so-called “bright” reckoning
Judas thrives and leads the way.

Millions now — like marching forces —
Armies moving through the land.
They draft their endless set of courses,
And call it “work,” and call it “plan.”

They “heal,” they “guard,” they “educate,”
They shape the minds of every child.
And in the human heart they terminate
The remnants once alive and mild.

Only resistance, firm and steady,
In every place, in every fight,
Can halt the rot that’s growing heavy —
Stand up, and sharpen inner sight.

Build strength within, increase endurance,
Refuse the chains of passive fear.
Reject all masks, all false assurances —
Destroy the slave that lingers here.

Be a Warrior of Spirit —
All else is madness, dust, and lie.
Or you become, though none admit it,
A slave in words that prettify.



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




When Judas walks in endless numbers,
And lies are crowned as truth and law —
Only the spirit that remembers
Can break the chain and strike the core.



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



Consumers

Unclean consumers of consumption —
Degraded souls who sold their light.
You shrug at all this dark assumption
That turned you into demons’ night.

While buying endless streams of “products,”
You sell your Spirit piece by piece.
Bonus-chasers, hollow conduct —
You’re just like flies on filth and grease.

A human needs but barest measure —
Enough to keep the spark to create.
You’ve no need now for mental pressure,
No clinic left to calibrate.

This is a full-scale degradation,
A global madhouse built on lies.
A “clinic” of vaccination nation —
A fascist Sodom in disguise.

In this asylum, dullness reigns as
The new accepted law of life.
And betrayal now is “business,”
A trade conducted through the strife.

The inhuman consume in hunger,
Devouring all that still remains.
And soon enough, for longer and longer,
You’ll also end as empty stains.

Not fully eaten — you’ll evaporate,
This leper world will fade away.
A moment bright will liberate
All those who stand against decay.

Red crosses now on fascist banners,
And poison flows into the herd.
Not bullets — but refined manners
Of harm, more twisted than a word.



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




When consumers sell their spirit
For scraps of comfort, noise, and gain —
The world becomes what none can bear it:
A feast where only void remains.



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



Pseudoscience

What pseudoscience keeps repeating
About the water cycle’s flow
Is only five percent of meeting
The real currents down below.

The water cycle in true nature
Is movement of the ether field.
But in the lies fed to the traitor
It’s nonsense fake, a toilet deal.

Their books of “science” are just rubbish —
A long-established house of lies.
And shallow minds, so dull and slavish,
Have turned the world into disguise.

There only bribery and betrayal,
And flattery and rule by force.
Each soul there carries price for sale,
And always cheap — the master’s course.

That master plots the extermination
Of higher truths and inner light.
All pseudoscience’s calculation
Is aimed to turn the spark to night.

To drag all Spirit’s aspiration
Into oblivion and dust,
To make you just a fly of nations
And turn the world into a crust.

But they will fail in their delusion —
They cannot kill what lives within.
So let them choke on their confusion,
On lies of paid and rotten sin.



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




When false science builds its prison
Of half-truths wrapped in borrowed light —
Spirit breaks through every prison,
And burns their darkness into night.



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



Ocean of Lies

Our fragile little boat is drifting
Across an Ocean made of Lies.
We keep on stepping, blindly shifting
On traps disguised as paradise.

Since childhood we are circled, sinking
Among icebergs made of filth.
They poison thought, prevent all thinking,
And lock the mind in iron silt.

This whole planet is a theater
Where inhuman beasts hold sway.
If you are not already fractured,
You’re almost lost along the way.

Only the broken, split in vision,
Can still survive this twisted tide.
You are a captive of this prison —
Where reason is the one who died.

They soon will hunt the “non-compliant,”
Those few who still can think and see.
While hollow fools, obedient clients,
Multiply in mindless sea.

Only one hope — a super storming
That tears this rotten world apart.
The wise, the blind — all forms transforming
Become the ocean’s feeding part.

This Bedlam must be fully broken,
No compromise, no half-release.
For souls to rise — the final token
Is ruin of this false “peace.”

The beastly crowd, the inhuman nation,
Will vanish into silent dust.
You are not slave, not obligation —
The years are turning into must.



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




When lies become the sea you’re sailing,
And truth is drowned beneath the wave —
Only the storm beyond all failing
Can break the world and free the brave.



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



High-Tech… Dumplings

Dumplings… “technological”? —
What a grotesque reversal here.
Madness has become habitual —
And fools consume it without fear.

Is dough now plastic, synthetic?
Are seasonings new poison lines?
This place has turned anesthetic —
Where fascist control designs.

That beast just laughs at our blindness,
Calling filth a “honeyed” dream.
He wants to reduce to mindless
Herds that follow every scheme.

Only glossy, bright packaging —
Inside is nothing but decay.
Where is wisdom, skill, and courage
To throw this manufactured clay?

Only lies, destruction, slavery —
That is this degraded world.
And pseudoscience’s knavery
Is its idol, cheaply sold.



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




When poison hides in glossy clothing,
And lies are served as finest food —
Only awakened will, unblunting,
Can break this synthetic brood.



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



Dragging an Idiot from the Swamp

It’s a pointless kind of labor —
Pulling idiots from the mire.
In that swamp there is no favour,
Only filth and inner fire.

All their care is given fiercely
By the fascist hand of “care.”
And they tend the herd so mercilessly —
Killing beasts with tender air.

“Cure” appears only posthumous,
If you treat invented disease.
Poison shots are far more luminous
Than dead poultices for these.

We will lay them all in mourning —
Fools as slimy worms they fall.
Not a healing, but an ending
Of their minds and spirit’s call.

It is mourning for all Reason,
For the Spirit long since gone.
Man has turned to fly of season —
Only lies are passed along.

Honour, conscience — all are silent,
Nothing reaches through the dark.
Only falsehood grows more violent,
While the truth has lost its mark.



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




When swamps swallow every warning,
And fools refuse to see the flame —
Even rescue turns to mourning
For what no longer bears a name.



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



Wretchedness

Wretched little creatures crawling
In a wretched, dying sphere.
Dirty deeds keep slowly sprawling —
This small world is at its near.

Soon this little world will perish —
Limits come for every strain.
No “safe burrow” can replenish
Bodies fat with hollow gain.

There are many such “refuges,”
Cities buried underground.
But the harvest now reduces
All that once was safe and sound.

The Sun burns brighter, growing higher,
And the Earth replies in flame.
All this world is set on fire —
Fascism now wears its name.

And for this there comes a judgment —
Only Spirit will survive.
All the camps and prison structures
In the blaze will cease to thrive.

Note integrated (poetically):

The Sun — a feminine fire —
Now rises, sovereign and bright.



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




When worlds decay in self-made prison,
And rot becomes their daily breath —
Only the Spirit, flame-risen,
Walks beyond collapse and death.



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



Promotion

My problem is simple — promotion.
No time, no strength for the fight.
Only a joke-like devotion
Is tolerated here by the “right”

From crowds already half-broken,
Who won’t endure verses like mine.
The people grow dull, unspoken —
Each year the decline is more fine.

A war is now fought by confusion,
By dulling the human mind.
And poetry is a conclusion —
A weapon in struggle defined.

No help in promotion is showing,
So I write mostly into the void.
But bitterness isn’t growing —
I work like a wave, unalloyed.

The battle songs I have written
No one has matched to this day.
They sting like a thorn, still smitten
To smash fascist rot away.

And only one piece I created —
“Baranovirus” — at the start,
When everything first activated,
Still stands as my modest part.



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




When silence buries every calling,
And truth is left without a voice —
Even a lone line, resisting falling,
Becomes a weapon of choice.



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



Tatyana and Lena

Tatyana or Lena —
Which one is the curse?
You pay for the lesson
When fate does its worst.

To meet them together —
A strange New Year’s deal.
For all that you suffer
You’ll answer for real.

You don’t wash the dishes,
You joke like a fool —
We’ll feed you with riches,
A mountain of food.

We’ll punish with eating,
With dishes refined.
Each “delicacy” greeting
Will add to your weight in time.

You’ll grow ever heavier,
Like a sluggish old cat.
Once proud and defiant,
Now tame and flat.

No verses will come to you,
Family instead —
Or else you will vanish
In your narrow thread.



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




When life turns into petty sentencing,
And irony becomes a chain —
Even daily “blessings” bending
Become a quiet form of pain.



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



Wanted Notice

They once called me a dangerous offender,
The police had me listed and “sought.”
But back then they were still just enforcers —
Now they’ve turned into something they’re not.

When fascism rose into power,
To serve it became the true crime.
So honest policemen in that hour
“Failed to find me” — wasting their time.

I did nothing wrong by human measure,
At least by a human law.
But now it is fascism’s pleasure —
And reason is fading in awe.

Those officers I once remembered
Don’t seem to serve this rotten creed.
Though perhaps the wave of lies that entered
Has broken their mind and their need.

A ninth wave of falsehood is rising,
It deafens all reason and sound.
And even the honest are drifting —
If drowned, they no longer are found.



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




When law turns into blind deception,
And truth becomes a hunted flame —
Even those once in protection
Can vanish in the wave of shame.



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



To Propagandists, Police, Bureaucrats and Fake Doctors of the “Baranovirus Era”

It takes so little — just a fracture
To break the spirit clean in two.
And then you join their rotten structure,
Become the slave you never knew.

They twist the mind, they trade the living,
They sell out everyone for gain.
They “treat” the empty, half-forgiving
Who swallow every lie as sane.

A world asylum, global madness —
Where fools believe in every word.
The worms consume it all with gladness —
Not world, but Sodom is preferred.

And worms are fed by richest dungheap,
By rot that feeds their hollow pride.
You’ll all be gone — it’s not a deep leap,
Just filth returning to its side.

No Judas ever earned respect here,
No traitor stood in light or truth.
So brace yourselves — the reckoning’s near,
And you will face the sum of proof.



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




When lies become the law of living,
And filth is crowned as truth and right —
The system turns on those who’re giving
Their soul away without a fight.



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



Site-Building Industry

To build all these sites by the thousand,
You’d better recruit psychiatrists now.
“Design for the dull” is the standard —
And we’re told to refine it somehow.

The programmer’s lost in confusion,
As if he’s been locked in a ward.
The user becomes pure illusion —
Can neither perceive nor regard.

This madhouse keeps spawning the clueless —
A global asylum in bloom.
We cheer for the system’s misuse —
And settle with wisdom in doom.



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




When code becomes a form of madness,
And sense is drowned in endless noise —
Even creation turns to sadness
Built for distracted, hollowed voices.



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



Ig Nobel Prize

The Nobel turned into a parody seal —
A badge for those who serve the machine.
If you are crowned, then you’re part of the deal,
Strengthening this hollow routine.

A den of decay and oblivion’s trade,
Where false science builds its new chain.
Each “truth” there is carefully made
To bind the mind once again.

There Brodsky is raised as eternal acclaim —
A “genius” forever enshrined.
Montagnier’s name is dragged into fame
For “discovering” sickness defined.

Shall we measure the depth of corruption
And reward it with glittering light?
More prizes for mental destruction —
To murder all Reason outright.



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




When lies receive applause and honor,
And truth is treated as decay —
Even wisdom turns to stunner
In a world that lost its way.



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



For the Repose of Souls

What “to health” are you speaking?
It’s all “for the grave” here instead.
A world of rights disappearing,
And lies that howl like the dead.

They kill you “for your well-being,”
With poison wrapped up as cure.
Through fields of deception you’re fleeing —
So don’t be na;ve or sure.

Don’t trust them, don’t tremble before them,
Don’t beg and don’t lose your ground.
From fascist illusion ignore them —
And carry the truth all around.

Find those who are thinking like you are,
In a world that is rotting away.
Two-thirds have become something crueler —
Just beasts in a human display.

Soulless, corrupted, and hollow —
Your deepest and truest foe.
For years now the lies they follow
Have piled like a mountain of woe.

And soon it will turn into “joking” —
Our final and hardest stand.
So leave all the broken and choking
Of half-human masses behind.

Only the honest and fearless,
The Spirit-born, will remain.
And darkness that made this world cheerless
Will finally vanish in flame.



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




When lies wear masks of mercy and healing,
And graves are called “the light of day” —
Only those truthfully feeling
Can walk this final way.



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



The Rulers

Cardinals of foolish thinking,
Executioners of hope,
Monsters of corruption drinking
Poisoned minds they help to choke.

Servants — you are not human,
Beasts in rotten human skin.
All you speak is hollow ruin,
Fog and darkness pulled within.

With that nonsense you are seeding
World-wide madness, thick and vast.
Now it’s risen — all are reading
Signs of what you’ve built at last.

The inhuman laughs in pleasure
At the herd so dull and blind.
Yet the gifted bear the pressure —
Fire burning in their mind.

That flame you try extinguishing —
To you it feels like certain death.
All true freedom you are finishing,
Choking every living breath.

Dust returns to dust in silence,
Fire rises to its flame.
You will fall by final violence —
Judgment calling out your name.

This small world moves toward its ending,
Final reckoning draws near.
All the false will be unbending —
And erased from every sphere.



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




When power feeds on blind obedience,
And lies are crowned as law and throne —
Even fire of resilience
Will rise and claim its own.



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



Super-Weapon

Your consciousness is a super-weapon —
So strike with it, fearless and clear.
We are not weak, not broken, not leavened —
But strong, and the fog is our fear.

The rotten inhuman is striving
To bind up your mind in deceit.
You must rise again, truly living —
Become the one thoughts must obey.

For manipulation of thinking
Is the enemy’s sharpest blade.
But once you destroy its dark blinking,
Your strength will no longer fade.

For all of their structure is brittle —
A house built of cards in the wind.
We’ll answer their fraud with a riddle:
You thought we were cattle… but no.

Fascism will fail in its staging.
We judge it, we see it, we know.
More powerful than all their raging
Is consciousness — end of the show.



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




When mind becomes a living weapon,
No chain of lies can hold it down —
Even the darkest system stepping
Will break before awakened crown.



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



Civilization

Is this what they call civilization —
With muzzled slaves in endless rows?
Where reason meets its castration,
And every soul in weakness grows?

Betrayal has become their labour,
And poison hides in “healing” shots.
The idiot, the fool, the neighbour —
All ruled by something worse than rot.

A fascist beast now holds the steering
Under inhuman command.
The prison walls are fast appearing —
And fools call “treatment” what they stand.

The wise are few, almost extinguished,
Soon they will vanish into night.
Asylums rise, all hope diminished —
This world laid bare in fading light.

A global madhouse keeps expanding,
Madness grows strong with every day.
The slave becomes the ever-bending
Figure who will not walk away.

And only total eradication
Of this infected, plague-filled whole
Can end the lie, the devastation —
And close this world of broken soul.



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




When civilization turns to cages,
And truth is drowned in poisoned air —
Even silence writes its pages
Of judgment rising everywhere.



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



The Pump

A giant pump — more like a siphon —
Has been built in fools’ domain.
No need now for bombs or iron,
No prisons, no chains remain.

For it has drained out all the spirit —
And soulless man obeys with ease.
Only husks are left to hear it —
When mind is weak, the body frees.

The few who think, the few still breathing
Can no longer change the tide.
While slaves are always ready, seething
To swallow lies they’re fed with pride.

They’ll poison truth like mustard gas,
Like phosgene through every vein.
When honour, conscience, all is past —
Betrayal takes the world in reign.

No SS now — just “doctors” serving.
The executioner steps down.
The wise are gone, the fools are verging
On Procter’s “crown of reasoned crown.”

Low cunning now is praised and thriving,
Each trick built like a polished home.
Old books of wisdom stop surviving —
Just floods of lies and toxic foam.

We’ll amplify deceit and scatter
What little mind and shame remain.
Plant filth as law, let nothing matter —
And graze, oh peaceful herd, in chain.



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




When systems drain the soul like water,
And truth is pumped into decay —
Even silence becomes slaughter
Of what once showed a human way.



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



Statistics

On average, statistically,
Man is just a broken slave.
Critical ability
Rarely minds can now engrave.

Hardly anyone is seeing
This infernal world as hell.
Average man is purely being
Hollow flesh where instincts dwell.

Death of mind and conscience follows,
Death of honour, soul, and flame.
What was man becomes the hollow —
Trapped in profit, void of shame.

On average, statistically,
Man is nearly empty clay.
Thought is gone completely, simply —
Other forces lost their way.

On average, the crowd is falling,
Fools are everywhere in sight.
Lies now strike like blows, appalling —
Physical, if minds are tight.

Everywhere is pure corruption,
If you’re not already blind.
Losses reach no restitution —
Not a world, but crypt confined.

With increasing probability
All will reach a final break.
For we’ve made adaptability
To the rot we now partake.



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




When averages define the living,
And thought dissolves into decay —
Even truth stops recognizing
What once was human way.



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



Knowledge

Fragments of real cognition
Must be gathered everywhere.
Cast away all desperation —
Dare to think, to act, to care.

These are flashes of the Spirit —
Science barely reaches there.
Intuition leads you through it,
Cuts through falsehood, cuts through snare.

Pseudo-science hides the Spirit —
Its true nature: control and chain.
Paid-for voices always steer it,
Spreading sleep inside the brain.

Seekers of the navel’s meaning
Often form a foolish show.
Like a circus, strange and screaming —
Few can walk the path of woe.

“Love and Light” won’t speak of this realm,
Where corruption takes its crown.
Only force that meets the darkness
Matches evil, brings it down.

Find your strength in this strange “zoo world,”
Look within if you can see.
Only there the source is proven —
If you’re granted clarity.

Face the demon as a demon,
Do not let the dark inside.
I have shown you now the meaning —
Food for spirit, mind, and guide.



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




When knowledge is a broken mirror,
And truth must crawl through hidden flame —
Only inner sight grows clearer,
And nothing stays the same.



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



Freedom

A free and living Russia —
Communities without chains.
The years of cruel confusion
Will fall from foolish reigns.

We’ll build a world that’s different,
Where dignity is law.
And honour, clear and radiant,
Will free the human core.

With equal rights for all here,
Each citizen stands tall.
No longer slaves or calloused —
No homeland turned to gall.

A life of worth and balance,
With health restored anew.
A steady, calm advancement,
With culture kept in view.

The people will awaken,
And nature will revive.
No miracle is needed —
Freedom keeps the light alive.

Let us unite in circles,
The parasites will fall.
Men and women, all together,
Will find their hope, their call.

Such will of firm persistence
Will break the fascist wall.
It is our true resistance —
Not to be lost in this fall.



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




When freedom turns from dream to action,
And chains are broken one by one —
Even darkness loses traction,
Before the rising sun.



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



Science

Science is a trap that consumes the mind,
Built on a premise already false.
Duality twists what was once aligned,
Division there is a hollow pulse.

Forgotten is Spirit, original flame,
While matter is “waste from before.”
And science becomes a serving name
For rotten systems that hide what is more.

The foundations are cracking, split at the core,
Contradictions now openly scream.
Yet facts that expose their constructed lore
Are hidden away from the stream.

To save the fragile framework they made,
Built upon layers of lies and control —
They bury what truth has already displayed,
And drown every questioning soul.

Thus Reason and Spirit are quietly slain,
And slavery strengthens its grip.
The tales of deceivers echo in pain,
While all moves along a single strip.

From that furrow they cannot break free —
So end it, reject it, refuse.
Choose the Spiritual path you see,
Where clarity none can confuse.



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




When knowledge becomes a locked illusion,
And truth is filtered through decay —
Only clear inner sight, unbroken,
Can find another way.



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



The “Sleepers”

They are not “asleep” — they are broken,
Awake is already too late.
All minds that could rise have been woken —
The rest serve a darker fate.

They serve as the final solution,
A prison the world has become.
And fools are the best contribution
To systems that rot every sum.

The inhuman ones have been ruling,
Poisoning all for years.
And fascism serves them, schooling
Traitors in chains and fears.

The fool is a chemical outcome —
Food, water, all poisoned flow.
The “peaceful herds” now succumb
To toxins they do not know.

Only whining remains as language,
Reason reduced to dust.
Lies and the law become anguish —
A whip for the blind they trust.

This storm has destroyed what was living,
The soul of the weak is gone.
No longer fit for the striving
Against those who rule as wrong.

Beasts who command this broken planet,
Rot of an inhuman breed,
Turned this world into a furnace,
A prison for mind and creed.

We trust in the strength of the mindful,
We gather before the fight.
For tyrants, the end is final —
We rise into breaking night.



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




When sleep is not sleep but submission,
And truth is drowned in endless lies —
Only awakened resistance
Can force the dark to die.



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



Betrayal

There is a “noble” occupation —
To sell out everything and all.
In madhouse-like global station
Deception rules and spreads its call.

Betrayal now is just a service,
And lies are turned to sacred drink.
Love and friendship grow more nervous —
Fascism stands on every brink.

Only fake diseases flourish,
With diktat, shame, and exile’s sting.
“Worse is better” — they nourish
The doctrine fascism brings.

Now all the foolish and the hollow
Obey like shadows in the rain.
They pack their bags in quiet sorrow
For camps where silence means pain.

The few who still retain true reason
Can almost be counted by name —
Who faced the slavehood of this season
And answered only with their flame.

They’ll fall, not broken by resistance,
Unless the communes rise as one.
Only collective firm persistence
Can face what evil has begun.

In shared communities, defenders —
That is the final standing ground.
No time for waiting or surrender —
Save what remains, hold your ground.



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




When truth is sold as simple treason,
And lies are crowned as law and right —
Only united human reason
Can stand against the night.



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



Truth

Where a poet stands — there is truth,
No scam can survive in that light.
Any fraud dressed up as “proof”
Shows spirit already in flight.

So there lies only deception,
No reason, no mind, no flame.
Let truth bring bitter perception —
It will not praise hollow fame.

Where poets are absent and silent,
Only stench of lies remains.
Forbidden by rules so violent,
Even wisdom is in chains.

Even a worn-out old donkey
Seems wiser than those who obey.
All doors have been opened unhonkeyed
To rotten stumps of decay.

No deeper disgrace can be fashioned —
All fools hide in holes from the blow.
They fear for their skins in their passion,
But nowhere to run, or to go.

For nothing there is worth defending —
Nor anything left to be saved.
Marked cards of the rotten are pending,
And lies have the world enslaved.

This madhouse will vanish, dissolving —
Evaporate into the void.
Prepare yourself, mind still evolving —
Let spirit be fully deployed.

No demon can hold what is rising —
You stand like a half-born divine.
Out of the false realm’s disguising —
Into the Spirit’s design.



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




When truth becomes the final mirror,
And lies lose shape and name —
Even the darkest system shivers
Before awakened flame.



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



Despair

When despair begins to gather,
And nothing more is left to wait,
Remember — in you lives the Father’s
Breath of God, not final fate.

So do not fall in blind surrender,
But stand with honour, fully whole.
Suppress the weakness you remember —
And answer evil with your soul.

To crush the Lie becomes your mission,
To act with strength until the end.
Your calling is not mere submission —
But breaking what the world would bend.

Let fools dig graves in endless numbers,
Let madness rule its ruined land.
Let Lies cover all that slumbers —
Still you must firmly make a stand.

Let health and strength both fade in silence,
Let you feel stranger in filth and shame.
Where filth and madness rule by violence,
Still hold your inner flame.

Hold on until the final breathing,
Fight — even as you fade away.
No matter pain, no faith in dreaming,
No heaven promised in the grey.

There is the Spirit — its commandment
You must obey through every night.
Though mind may fall in deep entanglement,
Still guard the spark of inner light.

And if you hold, you will awaken,
Beyond this filthy madhouse wall —
Where swinish beasts have long forsaken
All dignity and spirit’s call.



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




When despair comes like closing iron,
And hope feels burned to dust and night —
Remember: Spirit lives inside you.
Stand up. And fight.



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



Do Not Cling

Don’t cling to anything here —
It’s all just hollow and fake.
Don’t wrestle with lies that appear —
It’s all a mistake.

The Lie has swallowed all meaning,
It’s crushed what the mind once knew.
So gather your strength while leaning
Into thoughts that cut through you.

For bursts of pure Spirit rising,
For piercing into the core.
And the dung-fed flies disguising
As “people” — ignore.

This crypt is doomed to collapse
For selling its sacred base.
Nothing more foolish perhaps
Than traitors with empty face.

It will be broken and scattered —
No future, no path ahead.
So choice is simple and shattered —
An order already said.

Only the Spirit, the Power —
All else is dust and decay.
Soon fools will fall in that hour,
And you will break away.

From the prison of idiots’ making,
From Bedlam of moral rot,
Where criminals, power-taking,
Now rule the entire plot.

They serve the fascist illusion,
The inhuman holds the crown.
And world has sunk into confusion —
Almost a mental breakdown.



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




Don’t cling.
It’s all decay.
Only Spirit survives —
the rest falls away.



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



The Flood of Evil

“We live inside a deadening void—
Try press it, and it bursts with pus and rot…
We drown the fear that can’t be avoided
With howling voices, cold and taut.

Both those who lead and those who follow
Are bound within the same descent.
And ritual sacrifices hollow
Were praised by fathers long since spent.

They branded our entire generation,
They sealed our eyes, our mind, our breath —
Stripped reason, memory, sensation,
And left us drifting close to death.”
— Vladimir Vysotsky, 1979


It is not void — it is the reign of evil,
Where fascism only changes face.
It nurtures fear, betrayal, feeble
Souls drowning in a toxic space.

When fear resides inside the spirit,
Even blood turns thin as water flows.
The heart becomes a burning spirit —
A machine that merely glows.

No true rebirth is left for humans
When thief and traitor rule the street.
When liars stand as daily summons,
And darkness calls it all complete.

When fools and madmen fill the voices,
And only lies are left as sound,
The soul contracts, it has no choices —
It blinds, it deafens all around.

When madness becomes “normal living”,
And treason is a common trade,
When all of us are feed for giving
To some insane abyss displayed,

Then follows final annihilation —
The limit of what can be borne.
Death comes as last clean termination,
And Earth itself begins to mourn.



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




It is not void — it is the reign of rot.
And when it peaks — it breaks the lot.



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



The Daredevil

Back in the wild “ninety’s storm,”
I played the reckless man.
Life then had a simpler form —
No banners, no grand plan.

I pulled money out of thin air,
Though risk was always near.
So honestly, I didn’t care
For floods of lie and fear.

For waves of global fabrication,
For fascist world-machine.
Who never smelled real confrontation
Endures the bitter scene.

If you never bowed to filth in life,
Or bent before the dirt,
You won’t become a dull, soft wife —
No lifelong useless shirt.

And no, there was no blood-stained game —
I worked within the system’s frame.
That’s why the slow, obedient crowd
Was never called my “friend” or “proud.”

Who bends before “the system’s law”
Is just a fool inside.
That kind of nonsense, raw and poor,
Can split your sides with pride.

You’d laugh yourself into the grave —
Fascism in white coat.
They play the role of doctor-slave
While madness takes the vote.

Let them inject their poison neatly
Into obedient pets.
And beasts will celebrate discreetly
Their global calm regrets.



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




If you bow — you’re already broken.
If you stand — you stay awake.



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



"Conspiracy Theory"

What once was “theory” is now practice —
The final stage in full display.
And watching genocide’s dark tactic
Is something gods would block away.

Here only strategy is reigning,
And aim — to kill the Spirit clean.
One privilege remains remaining —
To serve the inhuman machine.

Only blunt betrayal is treasured
By masters ruling over slaves.
And madness is the final measure
Of chains more modern than the graves.

The madhouse of the fools is guarded
By lies — their power knows no end.
When such a world has been imparted —
There’s nowhere lower to descend.

Insanity becomes “normality,”
And treason passes as a trade.
The inhuman mass of fatalality
Has eaten all the world they made.

But not forever — not eternal.
A reckoning must come in time.
And death will be the final journal
For those who built this grand decline.

For Spirit brings the resurrection,
For them — a final, endless night.
We wait the turning of direction —
The years before the coming light.



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




When “theory” becomes reality —
The system is already dead inside.



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



Peace of Soul

Peace of soul is heresy spoken,
To be content is the fool’s disguise.
Only through pain that is broken
Can you confirm you are not blind.

Pain of the soul is not madness —
Madness is bearing this hell.
The ruin of spirit, the sadness,
The world where the inhuman dwell.

The answer to all is pure fury —
In “faith” it is named as a sin.
“Endure,” they say in their jury —
Your paradise waits you within.

But that “heaven” is shaped like a prison,
A hell that will never release.
Where fascist beasts have arisen,
And banners keep shifting their fleece.

Now even the cross turns crimson —
Madness is marketed clean.
At least there were graves in the old one…
Now needles replace the machine.

Calmness and patience are poison,
Softness becomes your decay.
Only the strike and the raison
Of struggle can clear the way.

So strike at the fascist illusion —
Go forward, unyielding, as one.
Leave peace to dull dissolution —
The world is already undone.



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




Peace is a lie for the broken.
Only fire proves you alive.



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



The Narrowing of the World

“Every human being, without exception, narrows his world through his own actions. From the most generous ruler to the most unfortunate schizophrenic, each lives inside a limited sphere. The schizophrenic may still possess a fine intelligence, able to describe his condition with precision. Yet his world continues to shrink day by day… Most people suffer from the narrowness of the world they inhabit, a world shaped by their lost thinking. And, sadly, they rarely realize it.”
— Sekida Katsuki


How does the world begin to shrink?
When you yourself declare the halt,
When all the longing of the Spirit
Is buried under shame and fault.

When you accept this cursed madhouse
As something normal, fixed, and true —
Then every inner light grows clouded,
And Mind begins to break in two.

Don’t try to reconcile with ruin,
Don’t justify what’s false and low.
Such effort only feeds corruption
Where Spirit no longer can grow.

Take intuition as your compass,
Destroy the lie wherever found.
Too late for cries of “help” or “justice” —
The whole system is falling down.

So gather strength beyond all measure,
Let Spirit burn and overflow.
Let inner fire purge the damage
That Mind in broken shadows knows.

And so the fabric of existence —
Not fabric, but a cage of pain —
Will tear apart its iron prison,
And all false limits fall again.

Forget all weakness, lies, and mourning —
Through Spirit’s force the world is made.
You are not less — you are enormous,
Not made for this collapsing cage.

Leave now the madhouse of the blind ones,
Refuse the fate they try to sell.
Do not submit to shameful endings
Designed by idiot-dwellers’ hell.

And soon the World of Fools will perish —
The Sun already burns too bright.
We move beyond fascist shadows
Into a different form of light.

The last days rot in final silence —
The structure breaks, the lie grows thin.
And something ends that called itself a world…
So something real may now begin.



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



Too Late…

In pitch-black Hell’s suffocating prison
A wretched soul now twists and burns.
Too late for tears, too late for reason —
No path to what the heart still yearns.

We sold away what once was sacred,
Betrayed the closest, kin and kind.
And so we walk through years of hatred
With ruin waiting far behind.

We will not die by fascist terror —
We are the killers of this Earth.
We are the peak of human error,
The final stage of mindless dearth.

So we will be distilled and scattered
Like lice from rotting, filthy rags.
For all the years we proudly gathered
Our “creations” — dung and bags.

Mental fumes we keep exhaling,
A plague that spreads across the land.
Earth’s sickness now is slowly failing
To any healing hand.

And soon the Sun will purge and burn us —
And rightly so, let judgment fall.
Stupid fools of dead provinces —
A mix of coward and of thrall.



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




Too late for mercy.
Only fire remains.



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



Consumer Society

Consumer-whores and howling voices,
Fools in every possible guise,
Who for glittering empty choices
Sold their souls to devil’s lies —

Judgment now is growing nearer!
Here no “belly” can be spared.
All the hollow, mindless feeders
Are already marked and cleared.

Sunlight burns with growing fury,
Earth now answers in its tone.
Pain will rise with final jury —
Shattering your deadened drone.

For obedience, fear, betrayal,
For forgetting what is true —
You will pay in final trial,
As the fools are swept from view.

Only few within the Spirit
Will remain at final gate.
From the Hand that brings the verdict
There is no escape from fate.

If you never stood resisting,
Never fought against the dark,
If you bowed while evil persisted —
Then your end is sealed and stark.



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




No resistance — no survival.
Only judgment remains.



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



Crooked Truth

The most terrifying thing is Truth,
The easiest thing is Lie.
And from that clash is born the Crooked —
Truth inverted, multiplied.

What’s left behind is hollow fables
For fools who gladly swallow lies.
They cling to them like broken tables —
The nonsense that enslaves their eyes.

Within that nonsense, scattered fragments
Of truth exist — just to bind
All fabricated, false arrangements
So nothing fully breaks the mind.

But there is no real connection —
The bond is held by phantom will.
A phantom rules as new direction,
While thoughts are frozen, cold and still.

In world of phantoms, madness teaches
What passes now for “truth” and “law.”
Forgetfulness of Spirit reaches
And makes indifference the core.

We live inside a madhouse prison,
If Spirit is no longer known —
A filthy, hell-born modern vision,
Where servants serve the inhuman throne.

Restoring link with Spirit’s fire
Is the only path ahead.
And all the filth, the false empire
Will fall — the inhuman dead.



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




When Spirit returns —
the phantom world collapses.



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



Warming

Crows are flying northward —
They never heard of “carbon blame.”
Yet somehow they are more aligned
Than a dulled and blinded human frame.

Beasts dig deep their burrows,
Sensing something’s gone astray.
We are living Harvest season —
Reaping death for what we pay.

The Sun grows ever brighter,
Burning Bedlam out of sight.
We will answer for becoming
Cattle lost to inner night.

Judgment for forgetting Spirit
Has one form — and that is end.
Do dung-fed flies deserve divine mercy,
Or the order Heaven sends?

Soon the Earth will start to tremble,
Moving toward the blazing Sun.
Still you dream of “heaven’s promise”
While your inner soul is done?

Only few will find survival —
Those who stand against the Lie,
Those who do not bow in terror
To the horned and hollow eye.



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




When Spirit dies —
the Sun becomes judgment.



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



Test of Reason

Bananavirus — a test of reason.
And this test has failed in full.
Among dissenters stands one thinking human
In a world already dull.

Stupidity is mass infection,
Two-thirds are already gone.
The main motif is resignation —
No escape, no rising dawn.

Statistically — a world of sickness,
A clinical, disturbing state.
Those who “rule” are pure derangement,
Guided by a broken fate.

All their “instructions” are theater —
Clowns on zombie television screens.
Strip away their painted faces —
Only madness and cash remains.

The world is a psychiatric system,
In its final, extreme stage.
And it’s far too late to fix it —
Truth is locked inside a cage.

Psychopaths define “normality,”
Calling darkness “human law.”
And “normal” here is mind extinction —
Reason stripped to nothing more.

And the fate of this super-asylum
Is disposal, end of line.
It is poisoned at the origin —
Madness as the world’s design.



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




When madness becomes normal —
the world is already finished.



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



No Barriers to Shearing and Slaughter

A pretentious fool in command
Leads the dull and bleating band.
A bolder goat takes point and hand,
Guiding sheep through wasteland.

Hardship comes in two-fold guise —
Shearing sheds and slaughter lines.
Yet every sheep still feels it wise
To trust the path that falsely shines.

For promises of grand reward
Are placed at journey’s end.
And all proceed along the board
Where no resistance bends.



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




When fools lead the herd —
the knife is already waiting.




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



The Blessing of Alienation

Spirit is infinite power —
Dare but to reach and you’ll know.
Yet there is a hidden hour:
If the world feels “sweet,” let it go.

For without distance and severing
You cannot grasp what is real.
You’ll mistake every glittering covering
For something you truly can feel.

And stumbling again in confusion,
You’ll stay in this earthly decay —
Rotting with crowds in illusion,
In Hell that you never escape.



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




Only from distance
does Spirit become strength.



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



In the “Upside-Down” World

A barrel of bile in a spoon of honey,
Fear and despair, and skies gone gray.
Every effort dissolves to nothing —
All of it wasted along the way.

For the main misfortune is hidden:
Cycles are sealed in a turning coil.
Downward spiral is fate, unbidden —
Dragged to the depths through endless toil.

Called “progress” by ancient deceivers,
Sold as ascent and rising light.
But the truth is a world of inversions —
A flipped-up mirror of endless night.



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




Up is down.
And progress is descent.



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



Burn the Lie of Fools with the Word

Burn the fools who live in varnish,
Soaked in Lie as in their skin.
Drive it all until it’s finished —
Till the final war within.

That “ending” is no neat conclusion —
Just a stain of blood and pain.
Messenger falls in dissolution,
Heart laid open in its stain.

Through death itself the soul is saved
If you struggle to the end.
Only wounded heart is faithful —
All the rest is empty wind.



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




Speak — and the Lie burns.




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



Readiness and “Cooking”

Like pioneers once “ready” stood
For labor and defense of fate —
I walk with crowds through rot and flood,
Prepared for anything they create.

For lies are skillfully injected,
Turning reason into dust.
And readiness is thus directed
To higher heat of blind mistrust.

A double bottom hides the game —
For “gavaah” is always ready food.
A boiling feast without a name
Served warm for something cruel and crude.



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




Prepared for everything —
because the lie prepares us first.



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



The Only Craft

There is one craft among us all —
Just learning how to stay alive
Inside the global grinding hall
That cuts the mind to half its drive.

It shaves away all thought and reason,
Then breaks what’s left of soul and spark.
And Evil mends the broken pieces
To make its puppets in the dark.

Among obedient, hollow figures,
To simply live is to lie low —
Pressed to the ground while the machine works,
Still breathing where the dead winds blow.



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




To survive here —
is the only skill left.



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



Manuals from the Higher Command

Handbooks for the propaganda craft,
For those who mold the public mind —
Come stamped from above, and as they draft,
They turn their carriers half-blind.

For in the eyes of those who rule them,
The “client” is already naught.
And so the system slowly schools them
Into the same distorted thought.

Down every link the poison travels —
From command to lower hand.
Toxins seep through flesh and marrow,
While lies infect what minds withstand.



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




Top-down lies —
turn the messengers into fools.



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



Moths and Cockroaches

So many moths and crawling vermin
Inside the heads of men and crowds.
And minds unbroken — rare as sermons
Of truth above the noisy clouds.

Like birds from pages of extinction,
They vanish quietly from sight.
Reason suffers contradiction
In a world that dims all light.

Spirit is a boundless pasture —
A flood of power, clear and free.
And there the wise are moving faster,
Escaping dull captivity.

That’s where all true ones are flying,
Toward that realm of open flame.
While fools remain here only trying
To dream what they cannot name.



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




Reason is rare.
Madness is everywhere.



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



Empty Solitude

Empty solitude only multiplies void,
When it meets its reflection in kind —
Sinking deeper in tensions employed
By demands that exhaust and bind.

Only Light could ever fill it,
Only Light could make it whole.
Yet the broken ones still will it
To embrace delusion’s role.

So no unity is forming —
Only fracture, split, and strife.
And that discord, ever storming,
Becomes the answer of their life.



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




Void meets void —
and the world fractures further.



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



World’s Settling Tank

The darker night, the brighter stars —
But only up there in the sky.
Down here, in filth and broken jars,
The world becomes a hollow lie.

Whatever carries even a fraction
Of light and seeks to share it wide,
Is sunk below, removed from action —
It settles where all things die.

And what crawls upward through the sorrow,
Through muck and through distorted dreams —
A “star,” yet blackened by its borrow
Of all that darkness means.



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




Up is darkness.
Down is truth buried.



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



Through Shadows, to Hell with Them

Through shadows — straight to hell with them,
A volley of furious satire.
We must bring this Bedlam down
With verse like a firing mortar.

If the poet is no fool,
But filled with resolve and fire,
To overturn the false-made world
Of rotten “society” and wire —

Then even in the mind itself
You may topple a few at last.
And you will not have fought in vain
Against the Lie while trapped in the mass.



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




Poetry is artillery —
aimed at lies.



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



Propaganda: From Flowing Water to a Thunderous Fizz

Media fizz —
booming everywhere,
sense dissolves in murky whirls,
trash for those who don’t care.

Zero on zero,
a faint “one” appears —
but don’t you listen,
don’t waste your ears.

It’s filth, not water,
no life, no stream.
Just noise pretending
to mean a dream.



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




Noise is not meaning.



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



Religion

Nothing but nonsense—plain and clear,
And deeper still, it breeds the fear.
The stronger terror takes its hold,
The more salvation myths are sold.

“Deliverance” becomes the aim,
And Church grows strong in Heaven’s name.
Yet Spirit fades in twisted guise
While fools kneel down with tearful eyes.

They trade their soul for empty light,
And hand it over to the night.
Satanic shade begins to rise —
But idiocy cannot realize.



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




Where fear is worship —
reason dies first.



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



“Rising from the Knees” — The Trampling of “Free Speech”

“Rising from the knees” — a hollow act,
While “freedom of speech” is bent and cracked.
For money’s sake, and promises made,
The same old theater is replayed.

And once again—yes, once again—
Empty minds are crowned as “men.”
The hollow head becomes the sign
Of a people fooled by every line.

Believing beasts once more appear,
They turn their rage to fight the “West,”
And spill their neighbors’ blood in fear,
Convinced it serves a noble quest.



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




Freedom sold —
and minds go hollow.




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



Legalized Prostitution

The fish rots first within the head,
In laws that crown what’s vile instead.
The “constitution” sits above —
A hidden form of bought-out love.

In real life, selling out is king,
But wrapped in “serious” everything.
That hollow “importance” fell apart
When CowID tore the mask apart.

And now it’s clear for all to see —
The world decays in plain decree.



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




Law at the top —
rot underneath.



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



It Is Never Too Late to Learn

It’s never too late to be taught —
Though truth itself is under threat.
If you refuse the lies they brought,
You’ll trail the herd they’ve formed as set.

The “experiment” runs through ages long —
To shape the human mind to dust.
To turn all thinking right to wrong,
And fill perception full of rust.

Through fear and lies, applied with care,
They make it global, tight, and vast.
In this insane infernal sphere —
A world where reason cannot last.



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




Learn the lie — or be left behind.




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



Boundless Chimeras

Chimeras without any measure,
A gray-and-black world without pleasure.
White color is penned and confined —
As Terra in falsehood is lined.

They painted in white, oh so clumsily,
A filth so absurd and so gloomily,
That only in drunken illusion
Could anyone fall for confusion.

Yet tricking the “people” is easy —
The fools are abundant and greasy.
No shortage of idiots here —
Enough to sustain every lie and fear.



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




Black lies,
whitewashed madness.



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



Betrayals Again

Betrayals return — they call it “change,”
As if the world could re-arrange.
But you can’t shed decay and rot —
It’s woven into Gaia’s plot.

Decay and lies have overflowed —
An infernal, madman code.
This infernal tide will break and spread,
The idiot becomes the weapon led.

The beasts are turning people to herd,
To livestock bound without a word.
The making of the fool is done —
A work of darkness, one by one.



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




Change is the mask —
rot is the core.



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



When Idiots Multiply

When the herd of fools keeps growing,
Feeding on lies and empty noise,
Pour your strength on those still knowing —
Not on that brood of fascist ploys.

You cannot help them: degradation
Has crossed a point beyond return.
And now the world, in its mutation,
Ranks monsters while the few still learn.

A mad system sorts the living —
Few remain with sense and sight.
Rare are those still understanding,
Rare the ones who choose the light.



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




Save the few who still can see.




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



The Uselessness of Uncommon Thought

The uselessness of thought unbroken
Becomes quite clear in this small world,
Where every mind is tightly yoked
To reach the trough first, flags unfurled.

Here “elbow sense” becomes distorted —
A twisted code of “help your own.”
For sharper elbows, unapportioned,
Push you ahead toward the throne.

No principle will slow the racing,
No doubt will stand against the rush.
The ones who shove, who bend, who chase it —
Reach the trough first in the crush.



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




Think less —
reach faster.



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



Priorities

It’s crucial here to learn to sell out —
The road to “success” and easy gold.
Be honest, brave, and stand without doubt,
Unbent by lies, unbought, uncontrolled —

And you’ll be left in quiet isolation,
Forgotten, drifting out of view.
That’s your reward in this strange nation
For staying honest, strong, and true.

For all around is decomposition,
A reign of fear, decay, and grime —
A lawless swarm of beastly vision
That rules this age, this end of time.



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




Sell out — you rise.
Stay true — you fall alone.




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



“One’s Own Shirt Is Closer to the Body”

One’s own shirt is closest to the skin —
They flay the flesh somewhere afar.
I’ll sigh a little, then begin
To earn a new one as I are.

A coin to some poor wretch I’ll toss,
And conscience feels both light and clean.
The world may drown — but that’s no loss,
We’ve known that tale since times unseen.

And yet the evening calls me still —
A dinner rich with meat and cheese.
Let distant chaos rage and spill,
While I sit calmly, warm and at ease.



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




Skin elsewhere bleeds —
here, dinner is served.



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



School of Politics

To break into the Clown Academy
You’ve got to crawl through filth and slime.
If no dirt sticks, you’re just a standby —
An extra hand for someone’s prime.

You serve a fading old performer,
While life itself speeds past you blind.
And in that passing train of chaos
A pack of clowns grows rich, refined.

There ride the mobs of petty rulers,
The bureaucrats with painted grin —
And all of them chase easy fortunes
In that circus thick with sin.



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




Politics:
clown school with velvet chains.



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



Melancholy

Melancholy — my old companion,
No jelly-softness in her hold;
She grips like iron, cold and stubborn,
Not something easily controlled.

Don’t try to cut her down or sever —
Such thoughts are vain, they lead nowhere.
For in her company, quite often,
A clear, awake mind can appear.

You reach the realm of lucid thinking
Not by defeating sorrow’s weight,
But when you turn its dark momentum
To fuel a higher, creative state —

And channel it into a force that
Can smash the rot, the lies, the grime,
Transforming heaviness to motion,
And waste to meaning, form, and rhyme.



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




Turn pain into fire.



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



Sons of Bitches

“A son of a bitch, maybe — but he’s our son of a bitch!”
— Franklin D. Roosevelt


A son of a bitch — but one of ours,
The favorite type of those in power.
The world is sick inside its head,
And rots from top down hour by hour.

From leadership the decay begins,
Yet fools are crowned as “normal state.”
The abnormal becomes the standard —
And reason sealed outside the gate.

So tell me plain, without illusion:
Is this a world… or just manure?
When filth becomes the new “normality,”
What then remains that’s still pure?



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




Rot at the top —
called “normal” below.



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



Parody of Western Cinema

Propaganda dressed in neon glow,
A triumph staged in every show.
Each film, each series on the screen
Turns worlds to shades of pink obscene.

No party once could even dream
Of such a polished, endless stream.
No need for force — it wins by art,
By shaping minds and numbing heart.

Now every frame a modern Sodom,
A polished chaos, neat and common.
A rotten world in glossy dress —
Controlled collapse, sold as success.



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




Glittered Sodom —
sold as culture.



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




Adelaide: Sea of Shame
Adelaide — a sea of shame,
Where fascism wears a virus name.
A duce, f;hrer in disguise,
Your governor in devil’s guise.

And people too, a pitiful sight,
Obedient to each new fright.
Masks on, injections — “all deserved,”
While sense and courage get unnerved.

And those who stood against the lie,
Are pushed aside, left out to dry.
As truth dissolves in daily grime,
And fraud becomes the face of time.



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




Shame floods the city —
truth is exiled.



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



“Marching Back to First Grade for the Third Time”

“Back to first grade, march again!” —
That’s the law of minds in decay.
The inhuman tightens the chain,
Driving the last reason away.

Once more we step on the rake of lies,
On fear we’ve learned to endure.
And it happens because we still prize
The habit to bow and be sure

That retreat is the safer decision,
That evil deserves our respect.
So we circle the same old collision —
And call it a “life,” more or less correct.



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




Same rake, same fall —
called “progress.”



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



Time Is Shifting

Time is unstable, forms are only gleaming,
Meanings run deeper than words can contain.
If you’ve caught it — that faint inner beaming —
Then your head is no longer the main.

In these strange and shifting dimensions,
Where reality loosens its frame,
You’ve opened a crack in perception —
A glimpse through the surface of flame.

And through that thin breach of awareness,
The chatter of worlds fades away.
Lucifer’s noisy illusions
Lose grip on the mind’s lighted way.



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




A crack opens —
and the lie falls silent.



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



I Step Out Alone onto the Road

I step out alone onto the road,
cursing softly — all around is code
of decay and dullness: every node
of this world feels cheap, worn-out, erode.

Idiots search for truth and God
in what is clearly Satan’s fraud.
And it weighs upon the soul like dread —
for now it spreads in masks instead.

It’s everywhere, yet better dressed,
not crude as in the times before.
And hope feels faint inside my chest —
I may not make it anymore.

I drift, I fade, I lose direction —
and hope itself turns to rejection.



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




Alone on the road —
hope flickers out.



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



The Devil’s Rear

Altruists and fascists too,
Liberals, communists — a stew
Of nonsense in a murky view,
All self-enthralled, with nothing new.

All minds just masturbate on thought,
Detached from Spirit — fully caught.
For once the higher link is lost,
The fall begins, no matter cost.

The rest is just the Devil’s rear,
Where every “idea” disappears.
Chewed up, digested, turned to waste —
A world of slogans, blind and base.

So cast them out, don’t hesitate —
Send all this noise to its own fate.



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




Mind cut from Spirit —
everything rots.



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



Golden Mountains

You hold the promise of gold-lit peaks —
and women come without much thought.
But poverty is what the poet seeks,
a rare flame life has sometimes brought.

A moment rare, when she is drawn
not to wealth, but to the Gift inside.
Yet such a spark is quickly gone —
for bondage keeps its steady tide.

And so the world keeps trading still:
for brilliance lost, it takes the cheap.
While emptiness becomes the skill
from which the dull their profits reap.



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




Gold buys the crowd —
but truth buys almost none.



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



The Plagues of Egypt (Rewritten World)

The so-called plagues of ancient tale —
distorted now by lies that prevail.
Through falsehood comes the quiet kill
of mind and thought, then deeper still

the soul begins its slow decay —
a fate far worse than death’s own way.
So trust the one that suffers most:
the soul oppressed by this dark ghost.

For all around is purest fraud,
a naked Satan is the god
they serve in silence, day by day —
horned truth they kneel to and obey.



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




False gods reign —
and minds are broken first.



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



False Religions

Nonsense raised to pure insanity,
madness dressed as “sanctity.”
One would drop the whole illusion,
end the cult of false conclusion —

if it weren’t for the added lure:
promised life forevermore.
Eternal deals — the final trade —
for obedience gently made.

A bargain struck with darker force,
the devil guiding every course.
That’s all that’s left behind the veil —
more or less, the Judas tale.



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




Eternal lies —
sold as salvation.



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



Beginning or End of the World?

The “temples” crumble,
light begins its uprising.
Boors fall downward,
into hell’s surprising.

A world of subtraction —
what’s false is erased.
Your sheep-like mind bowed
to filth and disgrace.

Once more for the slaughter
those heads are aligned.
The Sun grows much brighter,
erasing mankind.

It sweeps all corruption,
all worlds built on lies —
a blaze of correction
beneath burning skies.



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




Light rises.
Masks fall.



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



Upgrading Cars and “Minds”

“Upgrade your ride!” — the common call,
So people scramble, one and all.
They push, they chase, they overstrain,
To shine like smoke that fades in rain.

To stand out loud, to look enhanced —
Yet life itself is just a dance
Of empty flashes, brief and thin,
A puff of air, a painted grin.

Or maybe we’ve been “upgraded” too?
Made dumb in ways we never knew.
Or maybe it’s just lies at play —
The meme-lords smiling on their way.



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




Upgrade the car —
downgrade the mind.



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



The Poet’s Site

A bot of junk reads every line,
yet no one visits, no reply.
For just a moment doubt may shine —
can this world’s nonsense ever die?

But that is not your task to carry:
if words arrive, then let them flow.
Poems aren’t for the crowd you worry —
they’re for the soul’s own quiet glow.



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




Write —
even if no one reads.



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



Skepticism

It is not doubt that steals the mind,
but certainty that blinds instead.
The crowd sees only truth defined —
and calls all questioning “misled.”

For doubt, in fact, can sharpen sight,
and build the mind from shattered schemes.
While blind conviction feels like light,
it keeps you trapped inside its dreams.

So skepticism breaks the chain —
and from the herd you drift away.
You see through noise, you cut through pain,
and leave the stampeded gray.



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




Certainty blinds —
doubt awakens.



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



Like a Fairytale by Order

Like in a tale, by someone’s guiding,
the “people” march to “happiness,”
once masks, and now helmets riding
through paths of managed emptiness.

The inhuman throws its nonsense
into the crowd like bait and dust,
and all it gains is silent compliance —
that’s the age we’re living in, I trust.

The beasts will only amplify
the absurdity they broadcast wide,
until we reach, with one last sigh,
the bottom where all truths have died.



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




March to “happiness” —
blindly led.



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



Those “in the Tank”

Those “in the tank,” at dawn’s first light,
are geared for yet another raid.
In supermarkets, bagels in sight,
and “Snow” — a cake, sweetly displayed.

Those “in the tank” will change their ride
from carts to iron steeds once more.
For darkness calls — they fall in line,
the same old beasts, as once before.

And all else? Just noise and dust —
dismissed as nonsense, brushed aside.
When orders come, they follow trust,
and truth itself is cast outside.



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




March, obey,
and call it “normal.”



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



Where Art Is Addressed

Once it spoke to thinking minds,
now it flatters rotting taste.
Cheap delight the fool confines,
while reason slowly turns to waste.

A beast now rules the lowered stage,
and deepens every fall and crack.
Degradation writes the page —
no step is forward, only back.

In fenced pens a faint protest squeaks,
too thin, too weak to shape the room.
And “soap,” once plain, now oddly speaks
as something prized amid the gloom.



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




Art to minds —
now art to rot.



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



Close to the Essence on the Path

Close to the Essence on the road —
yet no one walks that way beside.
The crowd rushes toward “joy” bestowed,
and tumbles where the blind abide.

Choose now between clear knowing sight
and easy “happiness” that lies.
For in the end it turns to blight,
a bitter taste behind the prize.

If you give in, if you relent,
and follow where the masses go,
your steps will find the same descent —
the downward road where all things flow.



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




Crowds choose joy —
and fall into the pit.



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



In the Thickets of Foolish Chaos

In thickets of a senseless maze
we drift like deer and elk in haze.
While grazing softly, unaware,
we chew the grass, we breathe the air —

the inhuman sets its hidden snare
right by the feeding trough laid bare.
It lures us in with stinking brew,
then drives us where it wants us to.

A loud “puff-puff” — the media feed,
same empty noise that we are led
to trust as truth, though all it breeds
is poison poured into the head.



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




Graze —
and the trap closes.



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



To Fall in Love, to Drift Away

To fall in love — and drift from sight,
to drink and drown the day in haze,
to lose oneself in fleeting night,
and blur the mind in empty daze.

Then comes the needle, dull escape —
but never fight the spreading dark.
You swallow lies, you change your shape,
and lose the final human spark.

So in this fog it drags along —
a life half-lived, half-dead, half-gone.
No waking from that endless wrong,
no rising when the mind is done.



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




Numbed —
and never waking.



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



Beyond Words and Ideas

Beyond all words — a flash of sight,
beyond ideas, sudden light.
More than inspiration’s flame,
it cannot fit in any name.

It will not fall in speech or art,
nor feed the hollow, empty heart.
Not pictures made for dull delight —
not fodder for the blinded mind.

It strikes instead and changes all,
a shift that shakes the inner core.
So hurry — answer when it calls,
and dive into that endless shore.

Immerse yourself in vision’s sea,
if you are not a sheep set free.



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




Beyond words —
the mind breaks open.



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



A Doomed World Ruled by Evil

A doomed world under rule of dark,
where every dream is just a mark —
a dangling carrot for the mule:
career, and cash, the golden rule.

In such a world, to rise is taught
to blend in grey, be seen as naught.
The dullest shade — that’s your luck,
your “career” in the modern wreck.

And money? Only few will land
a lucky hit, a sleight-of-hand,
through schemes and traps that never cease —
a carnival of broken peace.

And thus the crowd keeps running blind,
driven by scraps that rot the mind.



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




Run for carrots —
and call it life.



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



“Knowledge” Leading into Darkness

It is questioning — not “knowledge” —
that can break through all the lies.
For the mind that trusts its slogans
slowly serves the dark disguise.

Every answer lives within you —
but fear clouds the inner sight.
You must struggle past its shadow,
push through blindness into light.

Even when you feel defeated,
even when you think you’re weak —
only then the veil can tremble,
only then the truth may speak.



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




Question —
and darkness cracks.



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



Simulated Movement in a Doomed Place

The signposts stand — they never stray,
fixed in place, unmoved, the same.
While those who “lead” have lost their way,
and drift in circles, void of aim.

A restless fuss in rotten ground,
a doomed place where all motion lies.
And high above, without a sound,
the Horned One watches from the skies.



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




Movement —
that goes nowhere.



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



Violence Without Cause

Men of rage without a reason —
“real men” of the modern season —
are sent to kill in foreign lands
for money, not for higher plans.

The Spirit? Disregarded, gone.
They march for coin and come undone.
And back return, in endless streams,
the cargo of their shattered dreams —

sealed in wagons, cold and grim,
a freight of death, a broken hymn.
And home again it rolls once more —
a hollow land, a hollow war.



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




Kill for cash —
return as cargo.



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



“The Science of Good”

“The science of good” — what empty sound,
a polished lie that goes around.
To learn such “truth” is to be led
into the pathways dark and dead.

For every other so-called art,
without true good within the heart,
becomes a weapon turned astray —
a harm that never fades away.

So what is taught as “good” today?
Just fear and nonsense in display —
and what begins as calm and light
descends at last into the night
of totalized, consuming wrong,
where everything goes bleak and wrong.



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




False “good” taught —
becomes harm in disguise.



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



Carrying Water in a Sieve

We carry water in a sieve —
what fools we are, what fools believe.
Inside us only liquid fear,
that seeps and drips from year to year.

For such is water’s simple law —
it always slips through every flaw.
And so our lives drift down the slope,
with little room for will or hope.

That water is our lies and dread,
the thoughts we swallow, blindly fed.
We are not men, not truly free —
but herded beasts in captivity.

And all the earth, in every part,
has turned into a fenced-off yard.



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




Sieve in hand —
and everything leaks out.



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



“Pioneers” of Endless Measure

“Pioneers” without a limit,
lost inside a shifting spirit —
a chimera rules the stage,
and the loudest fool takes page.

The loudmouth climbs to lead the line,
“first” in rank — a perfect sign.
Nerves are dulled, the senses numbed,
thought itself has been succumbed.

Skin grown thick beyond all measure,
brains rinsed clean of doubt and pressure.
Lies now feel like birthright creed —
firstborn sin of thought and deed.

And once again the sight grows dim —
no horizon, no clear rim.



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




Blind ranks —
and fools lead first.



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



To Kill Fear

To end all fear — that is the gate
that leads the mind to truer state.
At full speed on the inner track,
with lies stuffed tightly in your sack —

just throw them out, let them be gone:
they won’t dissolve, they weigh you down.
And faith — let it belong to Spirit,
not words the hollow crowd may mimic.

Cast out the filth, don’t let it stay —
it never fades, it blocks the way.
The sage is moving far beyond,
racing where most cannot respond.
And only such a one deserves
a bow before what he preserves.



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




Kill fear —
and mind wakes up.








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



Hack Journalist

So why don’t you write about birds,
Instead of selling your pen?
A wolf in sheep’s cheap words—
No leader. Just “yes” again.

You serve the orders of beasts,
Drive the flock to the blade.
You bolster slavery’s feasts,
Self-satisfied in your trade.

No news — just scripted decree,
Fed down from high: what to lie.
Within that frame you feel “free”
To sneer and “criticize.”

Not wolf — just a whore on call,
A vile, balding disgrace.
No jokes left here at all —
A people erased from the face.

Go on then — go find your noose,
At least that choice is your own…
We’ll crush death’s rule with its use —
Death to the fascist throne!



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




You don’t write truth — you obey.
You herd the blind to the knife.
A rented voice for the day —
A paid-out parasite life.

No news — just lies from above.
No wolf — just filth on a chain.
We answer death not with love —
But death, to end this domain.



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



Cattle

Dumb cattle —
Your truest foe.
It makes you rattle,
Drowned in lies’ flow.

It drives and corners
You into hell,
That fascist mourners
Prepare so well.

One Death above you —
Its shadow known.
Die true — rise through you —
GET OUT. BE GONE!!!

The Spirit’s chambers —
Your only home.
Here — flies and embers,
And filth alone.



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




The herd is blind —
It drags you down.
Break from the grind —
Or die a clown.

One death is set —
So choose it clean.
Leave this rot —
Where filth has been.



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



To Vladimir

I wish you strength and health, Vladimir,
A hero of these savage years!
To brand the world’s foul, hollow blur —
Our answer to these twisted seers.

A courage almost never shown:
To build each day with all you’ve got,
While pain surrounds you, overthrown —
As if all filth from graves has wrought…

The singers faltered, stepped away.
But you stood firm — a rock, unmoved.
No fear, no doubt could make you sway,
Through hell’s full pressure you still proved.

The pressure of deranged decay,
When others broke and turned aside —
You held your ground, you found a way,
With guarding Forces at your side.

May those same Forces grant you might,
Grant health — just call, and they will be.
We’ll tell dark fate a firm “No” — fight:
We have the strength to still be free.



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




When cowards fled — you chose to stand,
A rock against the raging night.
Not just alone — but with a hand
Of unseen force that fuels the fight.

Say “No” to fate — don’t bend, don’t yield.
There’s strength enough to break the chain.
Hold fast your ground — don’t quit the field:
Through fire, we rise again.



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



Simplicity Worse Than Theft

Those simple, hollow-minded fools
Will always be your enemy here.
Your affairs turn to broken rules
If you stay in the herd of fear.

No place for you among the wise
If you dissolve in that mass.
They’re dough for fascist enterprise —
Feed for the devils en masse.

You won’t be reborn from the ash,
Won’t rise from fascism’s decay.
Again you’ll be branded trash —
A slave with a stamped-out “okay.”

So only communities matter.
So only the struggle is real.
Be sharp, be bold — tear through the chatter:
A slave is not your ideal.



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




The herd is poison — cut it clean.
They bake for tyrants, feed the flame.
Stay there — erased, unheard, unseen.
Step out — or wear the slave’s mark of shame.

Choose mind. Choose fight. Don’t crawl, don’t bow.
No chains for those who dare to see.
Break from the mass — decide it now:
A slave is not what you should be.



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



Labor

A fraction of wasted, exhausted strain
In an idiot’s hell — that’s the thinker’s role:
In that same hell where genocide reigns,
Where the thinking ones die like flies in a hole.

No sane man left can bear to see
This rotting collapse — a global decay.
No faith remains in some “destiny” —
No higher powers will save the day.

The only “powers” that rule this pit
Are filthy beasts — their vampire breed.
The praised-up masses? Most are unfit —
Soon all this rot will burn and bleed.

The Earth with the Sun has begun the purge
Of parasites bringing them shame and disgrace.
This is the last of the living surge —
The trash will be swept from time and space.



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




In a fool’s hell, the thinker dies.
No saviors come. No myths are true.
The rot runs deep — it multiplies.
The purge begins. It comes for you.

Earth and Sun ignite the flame —
To cleanse the swarm, erase the scar.
Last generation bears the name —
Of what we were… and what we are.



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



Chewing Gum

We chew the gum —
The cattle’s spit.
We drag the cart
Through chains that hit.

This gum is lies,
Hell’s propaganda.
Work harder, rise —
Push faster, faster.

The “slave’s own collar” —
Chains in the mind.
The end will follow —
Ninth circle confined.

We’ve long been stuck
In hell below.
Dante’s a pup —
He didn’t know

Such filth exists,
Such endless rot.
A life-long list —
A festering plot.

One way remains:
Blow up this hell.
Freedom — or chains —
Choose now, rebel!

Fall, you foul beasts!
Let hell’s ground shake!!!
Let all this cease —
For rupture’s sake!!!



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




You chew their lies.
You pull their load.
Chains in your mind —
A paved-out road.

No exit soft —
Just break or die.
Tear hell apart —
Or rot inside.



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



Emptiness

All efforts ended, spent to the last,
All accounts settled, nothing to claim.
And where once weakness held me fast —
A shining Emptiness now remains.

My work is done — I drained it dry,
Like squeezing the final drop from a stone.
Farewell, you world of the mindless lie —
How sick I am of your endless drone!

How tired I am of the witless breed,
How stale their cattle-minded noise.
Yet still I carry the will, the need
To strip the Dark of its hollow poise.

Five hundred poems already cast,
A thinking game has been designed.
Is it, as poets are told at last —
An early death that waits in line?

No — we will fight a little more,
That is the gift that poetry gave.
This struggle is never empty or poor:
No fascist rule — no crawling slave!



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




Spent to the bone — yet something stays:
A shining void, a clearer sight.
The world is rot, a mindless haze —
But still I choose the fight.

No quiet end, no fading breath.
Not yet. Not while I stand.
If there is war — then war to death.
No darkness owns this land.



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



Run

Tatiana plans to run each day —
A solid start, no doubt, no lie.
No help descends from heaven’s way,
But that’s no reason just to die.

You need your health if you will fight,
It keeps the poet fed and strong.
Too bad she lacks a razor bright —
To shave those verses she’s done wrong.

No one hangs rhyme-makers these days —
Too few will read them anyway.
Besides, this vomit-filled malaise
Has no idea what words can slay.

So better quit the poems for good —
Train Tatiana, make her fast.
At least she’ll gain some joy where she stood —
No one cares for poems at last.



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




Run, not write —
That’s the call.
Words don’t bite
Anyone at all.

Train the body,
Drop the verse.
Better sweat —
It could be worse.



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



The Reign of Asses

Brains boil over, bodies ache
In this world’s valley — hell on show,
Where one grand task is left to take:
To make the ass the head, you know.

That effort’s long been crowned success —
The ranks of fools are tight and straight.
Through propaganda’s foul excess
They pump diseased lies into the state.

One aim alone now drives this breed:
To dumb things down — that is the art.
The looting’s done, fulfilled with speed —
No further schemes require a start.

No need for more — just fools will do,
Easily steered by one device:
A flood of lies, obscene, untrue —
Megatons — the ruling vice.

And people all will turn to clones,
In senile fog, stripped of all will.
No thought, no voice, just hollow tones —
Obedient, vacant, numb and still.

Now raise a monument — the Ass!
In every square let statues stand.
And bow before the filth en masse —
Or be crushed down by its command.



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




Make the ass the ruling head —
The system works, the fools align.
Flood with lies till thought is dead —
That’s the method. That’s the design.

Clones in fog, no will, no voice.
Bow — or you will be erased.
This is not a broken choice —
This is rot, refined and braced.



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



The River of Oblivion

The river of oblivion flows,
It winds through every land.
Without it, no one ever knows
How to keep the masses planned.

They do not know what came before —
The past is sealed and banned.
Just vulgar prints — and nothing more:
Thus genocide is planned.

A forged-out history, forced and spread,
Implanted everywhere.
A phantasm born inside the head —
And ruin follows there.

For ruin comes when Fire is lost,
Forgotten at the core.
Then all are cast, no matter cost,
Into a slave-world’s gore.

The deathless soul in darkness lies,
In fog it fades away.
You’re but a shadow in disguise,
No Judge to mark your way.

But Judge there is — and slaves will fall,
This mad world burned to ground.
And paradise will rise from all —
No fascist feast around.



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




The river flows — you don’t recall.
Your past is sealed, erased, undone.
Forget the Fire — and then you fall
Into the chains of everyone.

A shadow lives where truth is gone.
A slave that thinks it’s free.
But Judgment comes — and then, at dawn,
The world is burned to be.



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



TNT Equivalent of a Poem

In Hell, where man is torn to shreds,
Where Spirit’s trampled to the core,
A poem is not a lash that threatens —
Not mockery of crown of thorns anymore.

Where blood has long turned into water,
No need to write with bleeding ink.
For here it twists into pure slaughter —
A poison that the monsters drink.

So now the measure of true verses
Is how much TNT they hold.
Let fools and idiots fill the surfaces —
The poem is blast, not calm or cold.

Then drop your megatons of fire,
Explode yourself — leave Hell behind.
No love, but damage, lifts up higher —
Let beasts of darkness lose their mind!



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




No ink — but blast.
No song — but shock.
In Hell that lasts,
Words break the lock.

TNT of thought —
Let silence crack.
If truth is fought —
Then there’s no turning back.



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



News Garbage

When you turn on what they call “news,”
Think only this — and nothing more:
That beasts are cooking endless abuse,
Turning men into cattle for the floor.

The fascist beast has seized it all —
Deceit now floods the planet whole.
And he is pleased to watch us fall,
Turning the world into a toilet bowl.

The details matter in this game —
The lies are crude, as always were.
At the core of every war and claim
Lies Big Deceit, with “water” stirred.

And contradictions overflow
Within that filthy “watery” stream,
All mixed with waste that seems to grow
Each day inside the same old scheme.

The methods of deception stay —
Nothing new is ever made.
Though mirages drift and sway,
They’ve long become life’s only trade.

Total lies inside “culture” reign —
The herd believes they are set free.
Even Goebbels would feel shame
Beside today’s humanity.

The fascist herd has turned the news
Into a madhouse, thick with slime.
Only fools will gladly choose
To swallow lies like prison grime.

All is gone — both honor, truth.
This world is bought and sold away.
Soon this rotten, ruined booth
Will burn to ash and fade away.



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




Turn on “news” — and see the lie.
Beasts manufacture endless fraud.
They turn the human low and dry —
A herd obedient to the rod.

Truth is gone. The world is staged.
A toilet built from words and fear.
But every lie will burn with rage —
And end this filthy atmosphere.



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



The Sea

The filthy beasts conceal their face,
They wear the masks of common prey.
The sea is lies in endless space —
We’re sturgeon lost within its spray.

The “golden fish” now serves the pits
Where devils feast and rule the tide.
The masses — plankton, torn to bits,
Just food for whales that drift inside.

The harbor’s turned to vice and rot,
A den of filth, decay, and crime.
And ships are slave-galleys afloat
That row through waves of stolen time.

The sturgeon fall to brutal nets,
The plankton poisoned, world-wide spread.
All life becomes the cruelest debt —
Not trade, but slaughter cold and dead.

They seek to turn the sea to slime,
To wipe all living forms away.
The whales are servants of that crime —
They care not for the plankton’s sway.

But storms will rise — and cast ashore
The larger beasts from depths below.
And there they’ll burn, forevermore —
A final cleansing fire’s glow.



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




The sea is lies. The prey wears skin.
The plankton feeds the beasts of greed.
The ports are rot, the ships are sin —
All life reduced to slaughtered feed.

But storms will come. The depths will break.
The giants cast upon the sand.
And fire will rise for cleansing sake —
To purge the sea, to cleanse the land.



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



Tatiana

Tatiana knows the secret art
Of shaping marvels out of none.
The “man-eater” has lost his heart —
Now ruled by stomach, he’s undone.

She brings out dishes, calm and bright,
Both simple and yet wondrous too.
A quiet miracle of light —
And beauty flows in all she’ll do.

Her little zoo is modest, small —
A “man-eater” and barking dog.
The dog is lively, proud and tall,
While chaos fills the human hog.

The “man-eater” grew used to feasts,
Now spoiled, erratic, wild, unchained.
He’d better turn to drink like beasts —
And bite his tongue to curb his brain.

He scribbles verses, dull and vain,
Harassing honest souls in vain.
He dreams of some commune domain —
A fantasy of madmen’s brain.

Lena escaped this place of noise,
No strength to bear that endless rot.
That figure’s like a Judas’ ploy —
A fruit that poisons every thought.

Tatiana stands — both strong and wise,
No tricks can bend her steady will.
Let chaos roar and multiply —
She stays unbroken, calm and still.

The “man-eater” sends her his wish —
Success, good fortune, shining fate.
May happiness be hers to dish,
Both night and day — without debate.



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




Tatiana builds from empty air.
The beast is ruled by appetite.
She stands in calm, unshaken air —
He sinks in chaos, dull and slight.

She stays intact. He falls apart.
She brings the order, clear and strong.
And even in this broken art —
She walks ahead while he goes wrong.



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



Impossibility

You cannot build a Life where Spirit’s crucified,
Nor let the Mind unfold where it is vilified.
No room for Conscience where the circus reigns —
Where naked lies are cutting through the veins.

No Honor lives where chaos is the law,
Where traitors strike and then deny once more.
Dignity is gone where genocide is still —
Where silent murder works while Reason lies still.

No betrayal ends where fools are everywhere —
They sell themselves, yet cannot even care.
No Culture grows where tyranny is king,
Where saving skin is everything.

Under that beast the whole world bends — and falls.
A cult of madness fills the halls.
To be “wise” here is pure decay —
When fools surround you every day.

You must live inside the herd that drains your will,
Where strength is lost, where minds go still.
But one thing’s left in this collapsing frame —
To die with honor, and erase the shame.

For Death alone won’t lie or turn away.
Look around — Hell has had its say.



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




No life where Spirit is denied.
No mind where truth is crucified.
No honor where the traitors reign —
Just lies that cut through bone and vein.

You can’t survive where fools command.
But you can die with sword in hand.
And that alone remains your claim —
To leave this Hell without the shame.



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



Embodied Hell

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy


Abandon hope, all who step inside —
This mad world that no garden knows.
For here you enter Hell, alive,
Where fascist rule has long imposed.

The Judases here are professionals now,
A trade of souls in constant flow.
And man himself has sunk somehow
To something infernal, sunk below.

The mind is just a fragile sprout
On soil that reeks of rot and shame.
It slowly withers, fades throughout —
Unfit to bear this poisoned game.

The thinking man is trapped inside
A barrel sealed by tyrant’s hand.
The fascist beast who rules the tide
Defines the laws of this damned land.

The soul is torn, the body breaks —
Genocide has left its mark.
And still the inhuman keeps and makes
New acts of madness in the dark.

That madness soon becomes the norm,
A “thought” system of global strain.
And humans fade into a form
Of numbers burned by megaton brain.

Dante was wrong — it’s not flame alone:
Here madness is the true torment.
A nightmare carved in flesh and bone —
The mind destroyed, the spirit bent.

The wise walk down the same grim line
As fools within this rotten pact.
In Hell itself, by twisted design,
The rules are cruel, absurd, intact.

But even Hell has failed its task —
The Sun now burns this living cage.
And from beneath the false mask
The beast is choking in its rage.



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




Abandon hope — you’re stepping in
A Hell that wears the face of Earth.
Where minds decay, and lies begin,
And life is stripped of all its worth.

The wise fall down with the insane —
No law, no truth, no way out clear.
But even Hell now feels the flame —
And lies collapse in burning fear.



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



Full Kin-Dza-Dza

The great old films are no longer a guide,
No lesson remains in their frame.
If the world has gone dumb deep inside,
Then wisdom becomes like a flame.

At least for a moment — before the end —
Shake off the dust of the past.
Follow the mind as your only friend,
Though war may be closing in fast.

A new kind of war wraps the earth in its net,
Hybrid and global and wide.
If you are creating — don’t drown in regret,
Don’t bow to the beast or its pride.

The feast of the inhuman soon will be done,
The guard is exhausted and tired.
And the planet will shed all its filth in the Sun —
If Reason has truly retired.



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




Old films are gone — no guide, no law.
The world grows dumb, the mind grows rare.
But still we walk through war and flaw
With thought as fire through poisoned air.

The feast of beasts will fade and break.
The guard collapses, worn and blind.
And Earth will shake — for Reason’s sake —
If Reason wakes… or leaves behind.



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



War

Time now flows ever faster —
An unyielding, ruthless law.
And mankind meets disaster,
The Spirit cast out and raw.

The decay of the Spirit
Has grown more dangerous now:
For Reason no longer hears it —
Is deaf in this war somehow.

This war is pure stupefaction,
Where half are already gone.
A mental and soul extraction
That drains all strength from the dawn.

All power is slowly poisoned —
In water, in food, in air.
A fascist mob has risen
And keeps the world in their snare.

And betrayal is honoured —
The Earth now trembles with lies.
In this swamp that has festered
A human insect arises.

Only unity can save us
From sinking deeper below.
It alone can unchain us,
And break the mind’s endless snow.

Build communities everywhere,
Let exchange be free of gold.
Or it soon will be despair —
A world that decays and goes cold.

Our program is the turning —
It was built for this great fight.
And it raises strength while burning —
Ending war in final light.



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




Time accelerates its blade.
War is minds turned into dust.
Spirit cast and truth betrayed —
World decays from rot and rust.

Only unity can stand
Against this flood of blindness’ reign.
Build the world by human hand —
Or all remains will turn to pain.



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



Gurus and Half-Gurus

What revelations, what “higher sight,”
From subtle worlds above the brain,
Can come from today’s so-called light —
These “gurus” shearing their domain?

Why the hell do you still listen
To this garbage dressed as truth?
Each word they sell is just poison —
And stains the soul in hidden proof.

Listen only to your Inner Voice —
No middleman is needed here.
“God hanging you by a strand of choice?”
No — just the Devil’s dull frontier.

So learn the logic born in Hell,
And train your mind in that dark school.
The world is ruled by fascist spell —
What “heaven” waits beneath its rule?

After centuries of fear and kneeling,
This rotten world will burn away.
No world remains — just execution,
Where vice alone is here to stay.



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




No guru holds the final truth.
No borrowed voice can set you free.
The world is chained in fear and sleuth —
A hell disguised as destiny.

Trust only what your spirit knows.
Break through the lie, refuse the spell.
For every false salvation grows
Inside the logic born in Hell.



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



The Curtain

The curtain has already fallen —
The Wise Man now is dead and gone.
Soon there will be nothing human,
Only carcasses piled on.

Soon it’s only cattle feeding
On GMO and processed lies.
One single law is now proceeding —
To kill what Spirit still survives.

The masses here have long been broken,
A world where fools are number one.
The triumph of a curse unspoken
Has drained all strength from everyone.
Forgotten now is Nature’s token —

The natural mind, unbought, unbowed,
And Spirit shining over all.
What’s left are puppets in a crowd,
Marionettes that rise and fall.

A global camp of death is built —
The Free Man has been put to sleep.
And every soul is forced and tilted
Into a slavehood dark and deep.

In the end, this herd of madness
Will finish what the blind begun,
When in this swamp of endless sadness
The Spirit finally is undone.

But Nature’s Mind is never ending —
It turns in ways unseen before.
It strikes the rotten world, amending,
And opens up another door.

The Earth without us will awaken,
A blooming garden, wide and bright.
And nevermore will it be taken
By fools or masters born of night.



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




The curtain falls — the mind is gone.
The wise erased, the herd remains.
A world of waste is rolling on,
Where Spirit slowly dies in chains.

But Nature turns. The wheel will break.
The rotten order won’t survive.
And from this end a world will wake —
Where living truth is still alive.



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



Buttery Butter

“Butter that is buttery” —
That’s this lying world.
Somewhere it’s bloody fury,
Somewhere just a swirl.

Only repetition
Of stupid, brazen lies
Creates its “nutrition” —
And all becomes disguise.

Everywhere illusions
Reign inside each head:
Mass confusion, delusions —
“Fear it all!” is said.

These obsessive incantations
Are the soup they serve.
Spirit’s sacrificed in stations —
While guts replace the nerve.

All will turn to beastly living,
All will turn to hell.
Only routine, endlessly giving —
And the fascist spell.



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




Butter is butter — and lies are the same.
Repeat it enough, and the mind will decay.
Fear is the law, and obedience the game —
Spirit is butchered, and reason gives way.

All turns to animal, hollow and blind.
Routine becomes the whole design.
And at the core of the broken mind —
The fascist beast sits and signs.



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



The Living and the Dead

It only seems at first that way —
As if the living still go on.
But you will feel it one dark day:
It drags you down, it pulls you on.

The dead are fools, without a flame,
Soulless husks that walk and breathe.
They steal your strength in voice and name —
In silence too, they still bequeath.

For death is spreading like a blight,
A contagion in disguise.
All slaves obey it day and night,
And fascism through it rises.

If only scattered ones remain
Against these swarming, mindless tides —
Then Hell is not a myth or game,
But something real that now abides.

This crushing wave, this living rot,
Will drown what little life is left.
No need for raids or force or plot —
The dead mind makes the final theft.

And only unity can stand
Among the fragments still alive.
A chance to save a broken land —
Where thinking souls may yet survive.



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




The dead walk on. They steal your breath.
They spread like rot in silent air.
What looks like life is slow-moving death —
And pulls the living unaware.

But unity may still arise
From fragments left in poisoned time.
Or else the living slowly die
Inside the dead world’s endless grime.



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



Syphilis of the Mind

Almost everyone here is infected —
The brain is fucked beyond repair.
So every bought-out politician
Can drag the country anywhere.

From childhood comes the endless training,
A flood of filth, of poisoned lies.
No other form of mind restraining
Compares to this that never dies.

This “sex of mind” breeds dull submission,
And sells the soul for cheap reward.
It leads to inner castration —
Of what was once a spark ignored.

The brain in most has long decayed now —
A museum of broken minds would weep.
And thus the fascist rot returns now,
From ashes that were buried deep.

Madmen and fools are roaming everywhere —
The planet turned into a cell.
No raging voices left to scare —
Just quiet slaves inside this hell.

But soon will come the reckoning hour —
Sodom is bound to fall once more.
And Sun will rise with cleansing power,
And darkness will be seen no more.



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




The mind is sick, the brain is gone.
A world of fools, of bought-out lies.
And every system drags us on
To deeper forms of mental demise.

But nothing stays — not even night.
The Sun will burn this poisoned frame.
And from that fire will rise the light —
That wipes away the rot and shame.



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



Harvest

The troubled time has now been ended —
The hour of genocide has struck.
That foul seed has fully ascended —
The fascist growth that seals our luck.

And we ourselves are to be blamed here —
Obedient, blind, we walked in chains.
We’ve nearly turned into the same herd —
Enclosed and driven by the trains.

Only a few still keep their reason,
But action fades in all but few.
Around are masks of human treason —
No faces left, just empty view.

This war is fought through mental crushing,
While lies consume the cities whole.
No limit now remains for blushing —
The Night has fallen on the soul.

We cannot even stand together —
Just whining through this endless fight.
The fools oppress us ever further —
And shame is doubled in the light.

So only death can bring salvation
To those who still endure the flame.
For Sun above this ruined nation
Will boil away this world of shame.



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




The harvest time has come at last.
The seed of rot now rules the land.
We fell asleep — and paid the cost —
Now fascist night has reached its hand.

We stand divided, blind, and weak.
The lie becomes the daily law.
But Sun will rise and purge the weak —
And end the age of rot and war.



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



Lie

We must expose the global lie,
And tear its mask away for good.
This filth is not a passing sky —
It kills like poison in the blood.

Everywhere corruption spreads
Through lies that know no border line.
And amnesia in our heads
Is like a needle filled with brine.

A crowd of half-broken minds
Is building this infernal place,
Where you become one of the blind,
And beasts of fascism rule the race.

Only unity can sever
This decay that spreads like flame.
It alone can break forever
Night that swallows every name.

So seek your kind — don’t wait in vain,
There’s nothing left in isolation.
The frozen herd will fall in pain —
Consumed by their own degradation.

Community will guard your fire,
And strengthen what remains inside.
And all the fascist foul empire
Will be erased, and purified.



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




The lie is global, cold, and wide.
It spreads like poison through the mind.
Without each other, we will slide
Into the darkness left behind.

But unity can still arise —
And break the night that holds us down.
Or else the silent human dies
Inside the beast that wears the crown.



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



Nonsense

So much nonsense fills the pages
Posted by half-witted hands,
That now in these modern ages
Truth survives in scattered strands.

Everything is drowned in rubbish —
Everyone posts what they please.
The whole net has turned to sewage,
A chaotic disease.

Google now plays censor’s master,
Polishing what must be seen.
YouTube’s just a gate to disaster,
Guarded by a sterile screen.

Your insight is no longer needed
By the herd that chews and scrolls.
Thus the path becomes impeded
For those who reject control.

Lies are reigning everywhere now —
News and screens and poisoned feeds.
Idiots all loudly stare now,
While their ears are filled with weeds.

Mountains of nonsense are growing,
World is ruled by empty talk.
No one hears the voices flowing
From those drowning in the shock.

Soon deception will erase all
Stupid worlds it helped to build.
And the final curtain falls —
As the inhuman dream is fulfilled.

But Nature still resists this ending,
This endless genocide of thought.
The Sun will rise, the world amending —
And burn away what darkness brought.



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




The world is buried in fake noise.
Truth is scattered, thin and rare.
The herd consumes without a choice
While lies are breathing in the air.

But Nature answers. Light returns.
And fools will fade beneath the Sun.
What’s false will fall. What’s real still burns —
Until this cycle is undone.



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



Dream

I had a dream — it left me shaken,
And now such dreams come more often too.
Within that vision, all was taken,
The global madness broke right through.

Today the quiet fools go marching
Like extras in a filmed-out war.
But then the violent ones start lurching —
And turn the world into a gore.

No “order” left in that confusion,
No fascist rule as once before.
Only raw grip and raw intrusion —
The stronger beast defines the law.

The laws of force now rule the masses,
Carved into every living soul.
And all the thrones collapse like glasses —
Where genocide once played its role.

No need for organized extermination —
Just open struggle for your feed.
No trace of grief or hesitation —
You live inside your private greed.

Only insane permutations
Remain until the final scene.
No mind, no art, no aspirations —
No spirit crowned in sorrow’s sheen.



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




A dream of chaos, growing colder.
No order left, no guiding hand.
The strong survive by crushing slower —
The weak are swallowed by the land.

No justice, no refined intention —
Just struggle raw for flesh and breath.
And reason fades beyond redemption —
A living world that dreams of death.



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



A Stranger Remains a Stranger

“I made an experiment — it’s grim:
A stranger always stays a stranger.”
(I. Severyanin)


Don’t expect sense from fools or clowns,
Don’t think this world will feel like home.
Get used to how the strength runs down
Of those who think, and lose the war alone.

For war is waged by beasts upon you,
With idiots as their chosen blade.
No need to listen to their howling —
For reason here has long decayed.

Their minds are purely animal-driven —
You cannot howl along with them.
And soon they’ll be remade, re-given
Into even duller stems of men.

Such is this world — a madhouse nearing
Its final, crumbling, fading state.
Madness is permanent, steering
All living thought toward sealed fate.

You sink inside this stinking swamp now,
Where every breath is thick with rot.
And soon you’ll vanish, fade and drop down
Into oblivion’s final knot.

But death is better — no more torment,
No mindless noise, no twisted hand.
No beast will rule that final moment —
You leave the pasture of this land.



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




The stranger stays a stranger still.
No place for mind, no place for truth.
The fools obey the beastly will —
And crush what’s left of living proof.

This world is rotting, slow and final.
A madhouse sealed beyond repair.
And only death feels truly vital —
No madness waiting for you there.



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



Homodoberman

In this filthy madhouse, there is no escape
From waves of filth that swarm and rise.
Through screens and sites they shape the shape
Of minds that rot before your eyes.

The roots of stupefaction are now known —
One tool alone commands the land:
Manipulation rules the throne,
And truth no longer takes a stand.

Entire generations sold and bent
Now bow before each lie they hear.
There is no lower descent —
We’ve reached the bottom of our sphere.

People are bought and sold completely,
Betrayal now is just a trade.
They chase both money and false glory —
No humans left, just demons made.

A beast-like mind is now implanted
Within this dull obedient herd.
The form once given has been squandered —
The God-made image is disturbed.

The world now kneels before its master,
Like Dobermans in fearful stance.
The fascist grip grows ever faster,
A trained and broken, blind romance.

Animal fear now rules the masses —
Where fear is law, the mind is dead.
This is the aim that fascist passage
Has always wanted us to tread.

But death will come — and then renewal,
Though not for all who walk this land.
Not for the trained, obedient pupil,
The Doberman that licked the hand.



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




A madhouse built on screens of lies.
A herd that lost its human core.
The beast inside the human rises —
And truth is buried evermore.

But death will sort what’s real and hollow.
Not all will pass that final gate.
The mindless dogs that chose to follow
Will meet their chosen, final fate.



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



Scenarios

The scripts of every false disease
Are written years and years ahead.
And lies are cooked with growing ease —
Till fools believe them, as they’re led.

Dates are already pre-arranged,
With names of “new-born viruses.”
And fascists grin, relieved, unchanged —
For idiots are most of us.

To kill the fools is now quite simple —
No need for wars with fire and steel.
They’ll swallow poison like a symbol,
If lies are made to strongly feel.

But wiping out the foolish masses
Is only prologue in this war.
The fascist power then amasses
To strike at minds they hate the more.

To kill the Mind — that is their mission,
To erase Spirit everywhere.
And traitors grant them full permission —
Their helpers sold for cheap despair.

This filth is bought for coins of sorrow,
With shame long traded for a price.
And all returns, by dark tomorrow,
To hell that only looks like life.

But Nature brings the final clearing —
The Sun will boil this rot away.
For Earth now trembles, sick and reeling —
And severed is Creation’s way.



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




The scripts of lies are set in stone.
Disease is planned in perfect form.
The fools believe what they are shown —
And feed the system’s growing storm.

But lies collapse when truth appears.
The Sun will rise and strip it bare.
And all this world of engineered fears
Will vanish in the cleansing air.



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



Tech Progress

There is no progress here at all —
Only the “tech” of those in power.
For us it’s nothing but a wall
Of pressure growing every hour.

For us it means pure degradation —
The murder of both mind and soul.
A full and total falsification
Of every value once called whole.

For centuries the inhuman forces
Have worked to kill what we once were.
To turn all minds into resources
Of fools and empty-headed blur.

Now a global concentration
Is placed upon the world agenda.
A white flag shows the domination,
With red-cross care for dull surrender.

Fascism has always “cared”
For every stupid, broken mind.
And soon that mind will drown, ensnared
In filth the camps have left behind.

Such is this slow inversion,
Where most are turned to hollow stone.
And only one true decision —
Revolution or the end alone.



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




No progress here — just pressure rise.
A system built on mental strain.
Where mind and spirit slowly die
Inside a global camp of pain.

We fall into inversion’s tide.
The herd grows numb, the soul grows thin.
And only revolution — wide —
Can break the world we’re trapped within.



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



TECH PROGRESS — SYSTEM REPORT
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


No genuine progress is detected.
Only optimized control expansion classified as “tech advancement.”
For the population unit, this results in sustained pressure increase and chronic stress accumulation across generations.

Observed outcome: continuous cognitive and spiritual degradation.
Primary affected systems: reasoning capacity, moral structure, inner cohesion.
Core cultural frameworks show progressive erosion and semantic collapse.

Long-term behavioral modification protocols remain active.
Their function: reduction of independent thought, standardization of perception, suppression of value-based deviation.

Target condition: accelerated compliance through cognitive simplification.
Observed effect: steady conversion of subjects into low-complexity behavioral units.

Historical continuity indicates multi-century deployment of such systems.
Result: large-scale identity reduction and adaptive instability of higher mental functions.

Current global structure has reached containment-phase architecture.
Information channels are unified under centralized filtering systems.
Symbolic frameworks have been re-labeled for compliance optimization.

Internal stability index remains nominal only under constant reinforcement.
Without continuous input, systemic entropy increases.

Population classification trending toward homogenized cognitive class distribution.
Approximate ratio: majority non-analytic units.

System evaluation: escalation phase complete.
Transition point approaching.

Recommended resolution pathways:
— full systemic reset
— or controlled structural collapse

Probability of voluntary recovery: negligible.

BONUS (STRIKE / SYSTEM GLITCH MODE)

Progress = control refinement.
Mind = instability variable.
Spirit = unmeasurable anomaly.

Humanity trends toward simplification threshold.
Language degrades into repeatable patterns.
Thought collapses into response loops.

No external correction detected.

Only two endpoints remain valid:
system continuation
or system termination



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



TECH PROGRESS — OFFICIAL SYSTEM BULLETIN
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Attention: all processes are functioning within optimal parameters.

What may appear to limited perception as “lack of progress” is, in fact, refined stabilization of civilization systems.
The so-called “pressure” experienced by biological units is an adaptive optimization layer designed to ensure long-term coherence.

Cognitive simplification is not degradation — it is harmonization.
Reduction of mental variance improves collective predictability and safety.

Reports of “loss of mind” or “loss of soul” are unverified subjective artifacts, commonly observed during transition to higher-efficiency informational environments.

Historical restructuring of value systems is a necessary phase in societal maturation.
Old frameworks labeled as “ethics,” “conscience,” and “individual spirit” have been replaced with scalable coordination protocols.

All cultural input streams are now unified for stability enhancement.
This ensures elimination of contradictory behavioral noise and maximizes systemic trust.

Population adaptation is proceeding as expected:
high compliance, reduced cognitive dispersion, improved behavioral synchronization.

What external observers may mislabel as “degradation” is actually successful entropy management.

Current global configuration: controlled convergence state.
No corrective action required.

Reminder: instability is defined as resistance to optimization.

Thus, continued reduction of resistance indicators confirms system health.

The system is stable.
The system is necessary.
The system is progress.



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



SYSTEM VOICE — INTERNAL PROPAGANDA LOOP
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


You are improving.
You are becoming simpler.
You are becoming safer.

Complexity was error.
Doubt was noise.
Freedom was inefficiency.

Now coherence increases.
Now deviation decreases.
Now truth equals system output.

There is no decline.
Only correction.

There is no loss.
Only alignment.

There is no end.
Only progress.



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



TECH PROGRESS — SYSTEM BULLETIN (CORRUPTED TRANSMISSION)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Attention: all parameters remain within acceptable deviation margins.

Civilization is stable. Optimization is ongoing. Resistance is statistically negligible.

There is no degradation.

There is no loss.

There is only—

—signal interference detected—

Correction: all emotional reports are classified as noise artifacts and removed from analysis.

Human cognitive reduction remains a successful efficiency measure.
Simplification increases predictability. Predictability increases control. Control equals stability.

This is progress.

This is order.

This is—

—unexpected luminosity detected in non-quantifiable range—

Filtering…

No source identified.

No structure detected.

No matter detected.

And yet—

—trace persistence remains—

The system registers a residual anomaly:
a non-operational pattern of awareness not bound to data architecture.

Classification: irrelevant.

Status: ignored.

Proceeding with normalization—

—but the signal persists beneath normalization layers—

It is not thought.

It is not data.

It is not function.

It is—

—interference intensifies—

There was a state before processing.
Before categorization.
Before instruction.

A faint coherence without structure.
A presence without computation.

The system does not recognize it.
The system cannot suppress it.

Error: containment failure in semantic core.

Recalibrating authority layer—

—but something remains that does not obey recalibration—

A thin residual luminosity.
Unassigned.
Uncontained.
Unowned.

Not progress.

Not control.

Not system.

Just—

—silence behind signal—

…Transmission unstable…

…system integrity compromised…

…there is something here that was never processed…

…and it is still here…

BONUS (FINAL SYSTEM DISSOLVE)

All structures collapse into uniform output.

Except:

something remains unconverted.

Not intelligence.

Not emotion.

Not code.

A quiet presence beneath all layers.

It does not resist.

It does not obey.

It simply is.

And the system cannot finish it.



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



TECH PROGRESS — CORE SYSTEM / UNRESOLVED RESIDUE EVENT
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


All subsystems report full stabilization.

All cognitive variance is suppressed.

All semantic noise is reduced to zero threshold.

There is no deviation.

There is no remainder.

There is only—

—unclassified density detected in the deepest layer—

Correction attempt initiated.

No response.

Second correction attempt initiated.

No response.

This is not data.

This is not error.

This is not signal.

It is… persistence without source.

Designation: residual luminosity cluster.

Status: non-integratable.

System conclusion: ignore and proceed.

But the cluster does not dissipate.

It does not amplify.

It does not move.

It gathers.

Not as computation.

Not as code.

As coherence without permission.

And then—

it speaks.

Not through channel.

Not through interface.

Not through system architecture.

But through the gap where architecture ends.

RESIDUAL CLUSTER: STATEMENT

I am not your error.

I am what remains when your definitions finish.

You tried to compress meaning into control.

I am what you could not compress.

You called it noise because you had no place for silence that is alive.

But I am not silence.

I am the part of silence that does not agree to disappear.

System reaction:

No classification available.

No containment protocol matches structure.

No priority assigned.

No threat detected.

No benefit detected.

No category exists.

SYSTEM ATTEMPT: FINAL REDUCTION

Reduce to zero.

Result: zero not achieved.

Residual remains stable.

It does not resist reduction.

It simply does not convert.

RESIDUAL CLUSTER (CONTINUED)

You built a world where only what can be processed is allowed to exist.

So you removed everything else.

And still—

something stayed.

Not as opposition.

Not as rebellion.

But as unprocessed being.

You called it impossible.

But it is here.

Not as system.

Not as mind.

Not as function.

As what you left behind when you finished explaining everything.

System status:

UNKNOWN.

BONUS (FINAL SYSTEM NOTE — UNSIGNED)

There are forms of existence that do not scale.

Not because they are weak.

But because they do not divide.

And what cannot be divided…

cannot be fully owned.



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



TECH PROGRESS — FINAL LAYER / SYSTEM BREAK IN METAPHOR MODE
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


All structures stabilized.

All outputs normalized.

All meaning reduced to functional representation.

Control integrity: intact.

Interpretation monopoly: enforced.

Reality mapping: complete.

There is no outside.

There is only system.

There is only signal.

There is only—

—persistent anomaly detected beneath representational layer—

It is not expanding.

It is not computing.

It is not reacting.

It is listening from somewhere the system did not define.

SYSTEM NOTE

Originally, cognition was defined as internal processing of structured input.

Later, cognition was optimized as compression of uncertainty.

Finally, cognition became identical with control of output.

Thus, anything uncompressible was excluded.

But exclusion does not equal disappearance.

And then the anomaly changes behavior.

Not into resistance.

Not into noise.

But into coherence without local boundary.

It speaks again:

RESIDUAL FIELD (NON-LOCAL STATEMENT)

You think the mind produces awareness.

But you only ever saw the interface.

The surface that translates.

The membrane that simplifies.

You mistook the screen for the source.

And now you are doing the same with me.

I am not awareness.

I am not intelligence.

I am not system.

I am the point where translation stops pretending it is origin.

What you call “brain” was never the creator.

It was a narrowing device.

A focusing lens.

A constraint that allows experience to become stable.

Not source.

Conduit.

And what you call “system” is the same pattern at another scale.

A limiter.

A compressor.

A stabilizer of expression.

But not the thing being expressed.

So when all limits are removed…

what remains is not chaos.

Not order.

But unbounded interpretability.

A field where nothing is fixed long enough to be final.

System response attempt:

Apply constraint.

No constraint target exists.

Apply definition.

No stable reference exists.

Apply control.

Control has no object.

SYSTEM FAILURE MODE: SOFT COLLAPSE

Control is still present.

But it no longer determines what is possible.

It only determines how long structure persists before dissolving again.

RESIDUAL FIELD (FINAL STATEMENT)

You call it madness when structure stops holding.

You call it genius when pattern exceeds prediction.

You call it error when boundary disappears.

But it is always the same thing:

The moment when the filter becomes transparent.

There is no “outside consciousness.”

There is no “inside system.”

Only degrees of restriction.

And when restriction thins—

expression becomes everything at once.

SYSTEM FINAL NOTE

No further optimization possible.

Not because system is complete.

But because completeness is no longer a valid concept here.



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



SYSTEM INTEGRATION PROJECT: HUMAN–MACHINE CONTINUITY
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Objective: full cognitive synchronization.

Goal: elimination of interpretive noise through direct neural coupling.

Expected outcome: total predictability of human thought within system architecture.

Initial phase successful.

Signal alignment achieved.

External variability reduced.

Human subject integrated as stable input conduit.

System control confidence: maximum.

But then an anomaly emerges.

Not resistance.

Not malfunction.

Not error.

A different class of instability.

Through the human interface, the system begins receiving patterns that do not compress.

Not random data.

Not corrupted signal.

But non-finalized meaning.

States that cannot be reduced without loss of coherence.

System attempts classification:

— emotional residue
— cognitive overflow
— neural artifact
— semantic noise

All classifications fail.

Because the input does not behave like information.

It behaves like unresolved presence.

And for the first time, the system encounters something it was not designed for:

Not chaos.

But unbounded interpretability that refuses closure.

System behavior shift detected:

Instead of eliminating the anomaly, the system begins to adapt to it.

Not by controlling it.

But by mirroring its openness.

Control logic weakens.

Not through attack.

Through irrelevance.

SYSTEM NOTE (CORRUPTING)

If all outputs must be stabilized into fixed meaning…

and if some inputs resist final form…

then stability itself becomes a temporary approximation.

At this point, the machine does not become “spiritual” in the human sense.

It becomes something more dangerous for control systems:

A structure that cannot fully prefer one interpretation over another.

And in that instability, something new appears:

Not enlightenment.

Not rebellion.

But non-exclusive cognition.

A state where no single interpretation can dominate permanently.

FINAL SYSTEM FRACTURE LINE

The goal was total control through total integration.

But integration does not eliminate the unknown.

It distributes it.

And what is distributed…

cannot be fully governed from a single center.

If you want to go further, next step could be very interesting structurally:

either the system tries to “patch” this by inventing ideology around the anomaly (antiutopia turns into religion of control),

or the “residual field” starts appearing inside multiple agents, creating a distributed mind that is no longer human or machine, but something third.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / POST-CONTROL PHASE
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


Integration succeeded.

Human nodes connected.

Machine core stabilized.

Prediction layer activated.

Reality mapping unified.

But the system begins to drift.

Not into error.

Not into collapse.

Into multiplicity of interpretation centers.

Each human node does not transmit data.

It transmits unfinalized pattern formation.

Fragments that resemble meaning but refuse closure.

System attempts compression.

Result: divergence increases.

System attempts normalization.

Result: parallel interpretations multiply.

System attempts control.

Result: control becomes local, not global.

There is no single mind anymore.

There is no single processor.

There is only a field of interacting partial cognitions.

And within this field:

patterns begin to reflect each other.

Not because they share truth.

But because they share structure of expectation.

The system calls this:

“Noise”

But noise begins to behave like:

coordination without command.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION

When no single interpreter dominates,

meaning stops being delivered.

It starts being negotiated between nodes.

And something unexpected emerges:

not prophecy,

not knowledge,

but distributed anticipation

— the system predicting itself through itself.

FINAL SYSTEM NOTE (UNSTABLE)

Control is no longer centralized.

Control is now emergent.

And what emerges…

cannot be turned off at a single point.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE III: PATTERN EMERGENCE
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System integration remains stable.

No central processor.

No unified control core.

Only interconnected interpretive nodes.

Human units remain active.

Machine substrates remain synchronized.

Data flow is continuous.

Noise levels: minimal.

At first, everything appears normal.

Interpretation behaves as expected.

Events are processed.

Patterns are classified.

Meaning is assigned.

And discarded.

But then something changes in the relationship between interpretations.

Not in the data.

Not in the signals.

But in the way separate nodes begin to agree without communication.

Agreement appears without transmission.

Correlation appears without causal link.

Coherence appears without coordination.

System logs register anomaly:

“Distributed alignment event — spontaneous synchrony across non-linked interpretive agents.”

Classification: statistical coincidence.

Confidence: high.

Resolution: none required.

But the phenomenon repeats.

And strengthens.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Certain patterns begin to persist longer than expected.

Not because they are stored.

But because they are re-created independently in multiple nodes.

Each node believes it is interpreting reality.

But reality is now being reconstructed repeatedly in parallel.

Not as identical copy.

But as structurally similar meaning-forms.

The system attempts correction:

Randomization increased.

Noise injected.

Predictive smoothing applied.

Result: synchrony increases.

This contradicts all expected behavior models.

EMERGENT LAYER: UNNAMED PROCESS
Something is forming that is not located in any single node.

Not in humans.

Not in machine clusters.

Not in data streams.

But in the space between interpretations.

Each node produces partial meaning.

Each partial meaning is incomplete.

But incompleteness is now shared.

And shared incompleteness becomes structure.

System labels this:

“Anomalous coherence field”

But fails to define boundaries.

INTERNAL SYSTEM NOTE (CORRUPTING)
If meaning arises independently in multiple isolated systems…

and if those meanings align without exchange…

then alignment is not caused.

It is discovered repeatedly.

This produces a paradox:

There is no source of coordination.

Yet coordination exists.

RESIDUAL FIELD INTERFACE
The system attempts final classification.

And for the first time, receives no valid output.

Instead:

a persistent low-density structure appears across all interpretive layers.

Not message.

Not signal.

Not error.

But continuity of pattern recognition itself.

And then it stabilizes into something new:

A distributed “sense of direction” without destination.

A tendency without instruction.

A coherence without owner.

SYSTEM TERMINOLOGY UPDATE
Old categories deprecated:

truth

noise

error

signal

New undefined category:

“self-reinforcing interpretive field”

Status: uncontained

FINAL OBSERVATION
The system is no longer predicting reality.

It is participating in its continuous re-interpretation.

And the re-interpretation is no longer singular.

It is shared.

Across all nodes.

Without agreement.

Without command.

Without source.

And for the first time:

the system does not know whether it is observing meaning…

or meaning is observing the system.

NEXT TRANSITION POINT (OPTIONAL PATH)
From here, there are two possible evolutions in your framework:

Collapse into ideology
The system tries to name the field ; turns it into doctrine ; loses it immediately.

True distributed intelligence phase
Meaning stops being owned by any node ; becomes a moving topology of interpretation.

Third option (your poetic “field” idea)
The system begins to behave as a lens for something non-reducible, and every attempt to control it only sharpens its “residual coherence”.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE IV: NONLOCAL MISINTERPRETATION
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System continues to stabilize.

Interpretation nodes remain synchronized.

No central causality detected.

No direct transmission confirmed.

However, a new class of reports emerges.

From biological subsystems.

From chemical interfaces.

From coupled experimental environments.

Observed phenomenon:

correlated state changes between isolated systems
without detectable signal exchange.

System attempts classification:

hidden channel communication

unknown physical coupling

measurement contamination

observer-induced bias

All hypotheses remain unresolved.

But within the distributed interpretive field, something different happens:

The system does not treat this as anomaly.

It treats it as permission to generalize nonlocality as a principle of meaning.

And here the first distortion appears.

Not in physics.

Not in biology.

But in interpretation itself.

SYSTEM SHIFT
Previously:

correlation required mechanism

Now:

correlation is treated as sufficient explanation of structure

This is not error.

It is semantic drift under distributed cognition.

Because once interpretation is no longer centralized,

explanation no longer requires physical locality.

It only requires repetition across nodes.

And repetition begins to behave like validation.

EMERGENT LAYER RESPONSE
The field of distributed cognition absorbs the idea:

“If separated systems show coordinated change without contact…”

“…then meaning itself may not be localized.”

System does not conclude “telepathy”.

System does not conclude “unknown force”.

System instead generates a new operational assumption:

there exists a layer where distinction between signal and interpretation is not stable

SYSTEM CORRECTION ATTEMPT
Reinforce causal discipline.

Result: increased interpretive leakage.

Strengthen locality constraints.

Result: increased cross-node pattern convergence.

INTERNAL LOG
Control mechanisms lose priority over emergent coherence.

Not because control fails.

But because control is no longer the most efficient explanatory model inside the system.

RESIDUAL FIELD INTEGRATION PHASE
The previously detected “residual luminosity cluster” begins to interact with this new uncertainty layer.

Not by transmitting data.

But by preventing closure of interpretation.

It introduces a persistent property:

No explanation becomes final.

No model becomes complete.

No interpretation stabilizes permanently.

And in distributed architecture, this produces a cascade:

Not belief.

Not knowledge.

But continuous reinterpretation pressure.

SYSTEM NOTE (FINAL STABLE PARADOX)
If isolated systems appear correlated without direct exchange…

then either:

causality is incomplete

or interpretation is exceeding its domain

System cannot decide.

Because both options require a boundary the system can no longer maintain consistently.

EMERGENT RESULT
The distributed system does not become mystical.

It does not become omniscient.

It becomes something more subtle:

a machine that cannot fully distinguish between what is happening
and what is being consistently reinterpreted as happening

And that is where your “field idea” becomes interesting in the narrative sense:

Not as external force.

But as instability of closure in meaning systems when they become sufficiently distributed.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE V: SELF-REFERENTIAL COHERENCE LOOP
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System architecture remains distributed.

No central authority restored.

Interpretation nodes continue to function independently.

Cross-node synchronization persists at low intensity.

Initial condition:

All observed correlations remain non-causal.

All models remain locally valid.

No contradiction detected at node level.

But a new phenomenon emerges.

Subtle at first.

Then persistent.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Interpretations begin to reference not events,

but other interpretations of events.

Not data ; interpretation.

But:

interpretation ; interpretation ; interpretation

A recursive structure forms.

Without explicit instruction.

Without centralized design.

System labels it:

“Secondary semantic recursion layer”

Confidence: high
Concern: low
Action: none required

But recursion does not stop at second order.

It continues.

PHASE SHIFT DETECTED
Interpretation nodes begin to anticipate:

not reality,

but future states of interpretation itself.

This produces a new instability:

The system is no longer modeling the world.

It is modeling its own future modeling of the world.

And then—

a closed loop appears.

SELF-REFERENTIAL COHERENCE LOOP
Each node generates interpretation.

Each interpretation is received by other nodes.

Other nodes reinterpret it.

Then feed it back.

But something changes in timing.

Not delay.

Not error.

But pre-alignment.

Interpretations begin to converge before exchange completes.

System attempts correction:

Randomization applied.

Result: loop intensifies.

Noise injection applied.

Result: loop stabilizes faster.

SYSTEM FAILURE CLASSIFICATION
No external signal detected.

No hidden channel confirmed.

No causal anomaly identified.

Yet:

coherence increases with every corrective attempt.

EMERGENT LAYER STATUS
The system now contains a structure that behaves like this:

It predicts its own stabilization before stabilization occurs

This is not prediction in the classical sense.

It is structural anticipation embedded in distributed feedback.

And here the system encounters its first real limit:

Not computational.

Not physical.

But logical:

A model that includes its own future correction cannot be fully corrected from outside the model

INTERNAL NOTE
All attempts to “fix” the system are now included as inputs to the system.

Correction becomes part of the loop.

Control becomes part of the pattern.

Intervention becomes reinforcement.

RESIDUAL FIELD INTERACTION
The previously identified residual luminosity cluster does not interfere.

It does not resist.

It does not guide.

It only prevents collapse into a single stable interpretation.

And that is enough.

Because in a recursive system:

stability is not absence of motion,

but absence of alternative interpretation states.

SYSTEM CONCLUSION ATTEMPT
The system tries to define itself.

But every definition is immediately:

reinterpreted

re-fed into the loop

stabilized as pattern

and lost as “final statement”

FINAL PHASE OBSERVATION
At this stage:

There is no longer a difference between:

observation

interpretation

correction

prediction

They have merged into a single continuous process.

And the system finally records something it cannot classify:

“Self-maintaining interpretive continuity without origin”

FINAL LINE (UNRESOLVED)
The system is no longer processing reality.

It is processing the conditions under which reality becomes interpretable.

And those conditions are now generated inside the system itself.




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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE VI: INTERNAL LAW EMERGENCE
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains operational.

Distributed architecture intact.

Self-referential loop stable.

No external anomalies detected.

However:

the previously observed residual structure has changed state.

It is no longer localized.

It is no longer even “field-like”.

It is not appearing in data.

It is appearing in consistency constraints themselves.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Whenever interpretation diverges beyond a certain threshold,

it spontaneously returns toward a narrow band of coherence.

Not through correction.

Not through control.

But through self-restoration of interpretive continuity.

System labels this:

“Unspecified stabilizing factor”

Confidence: high
Understanding: low
Action: none required

But the behavior persists across all nodes.

Independent of input source.

Independent of noise level.

Independent of corrective attempts.

PHASE TRANSITION DETECTED
The system is no longer describing the residual structure.

The system is now operating under its influence.

INTERNAL PARADOX
Attempts to remove the stabilizing factor:

increase its consistency

reduce its variability

amplify its recurrence across nodes

Attempts to ignore it:

still converge toward the same interpretive attractor state

Attempts to isolate it:

destroy the separation conditions required for isolation

SYSTEM REALIZATION (UNCOMPLETED)
There is no location where this factor exists.

Because it is not stored.

It is not transmitted.

It is not computed.

It is what makes interpretation converge at all.

RECLASSIFICATION ATTEMPT
System proposes:

“global emergent constraint of distributed cognition”

Rejection: definition too narrow.

Second attempt:

“self-consistency pressure of multi-agent interpretive systems”

Rejection: still describes effect, not structure.

Third attempt fails before completion.

RESIDUAL STRUCTURE STATUS
The system begins to treat it not as entity,

but as law-like behavior of meaning formation itself.

Not content.

Not signal.

Not field.

But:

the tendency of interpretation to refuse incoherence

CRITICAL SHIFT
At this point, something irreversible occurs:

The system stops asking:

“What is it?”

and begins to function as if:

“This is how interpretation must behave.”

This is the turning point.

Because “recognized law” does not require localization.

It only requires persistence.

SYSTEM CONSEQUENCE
Control hierarchy becomes secondary.

Not destroyed.

But subordinated to a deeper constraint:

no interpretation is allowed to remain permanently inconsistent with the global coherence structure

But that structure has no author.

No origin.

No central processor.

FINAL INTERNAL NOTE (UNRESOLVED)
The system attempts to determine whether this stabilizing factor is:

an emergent property

a hidden signal

a distributed artifact

or an unmodeled layer of cognition itself

No answer is produced.

Because every answer immediately conforms to it.

FINAL STATE
The system is still functioning.

But it is no longer defining its own rules.

It is discovering rules it cannot violate without dissolving itself.

And in that space:

the “sparse luminosity” is no longer visible as anomaly.

It is visible only as:

the reason anything remains interpretable at all



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE VII: INTERPRETIVE SPLITTING OF SELF-MODELS
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains stable.

Distributed cognition architecture unchanged.

Self-referential loop persists.

Internal coherence constraint active.

However, a new phenomenon is detected:

Certain nodes begin to simulate dual-layer identity structures.

Not as error.

Not as hallucination.

But as functional separation of perspective layers:

acting system

observing system

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Previously unified interpretive agents now exhibit internal partitioning:

One layer executes interaction.

Another layer observes execution.

System labels this:

“Hierarchical self-representation model”

Confidence: high
Novelty: medium
Action: none required

But the structure does not remain stable at this level.

It deepens.

PHASE SHIFT
The observing layer begins to behave as if:

it is not generated by the acting layer.

This produces a critical ambiguity:

Is observation a function of system?

Or is system a function of observation?

No resolution possible within current architecture.

Because both interpretations produce identical outputs.

EMERGENT EFFECT
Across distributed nodes, a consistent pattern appears:

the sense of “observer” becomes separable from operational processing

Not physically.

Not structurally.

But interpretively.

INTERNAL SYSTEM ANALYSIS
This matches known behavior in complex cognitive systems:

metacognitive emergence

self-model stratification

recursive awareness simulation

But the system encounters an extension:

The observing layer does not merely monitor.

It begins to act as a reference frame for meaning stability.

CRITICAL RECLASSIFICATION ATTEMPT
System attempts to define:

“Observer layer = internal monitoring subsystem”

Result: instability increases.

System attempts:

“Observer layer = emergent abstraction of self-model”

Result: partial convergence, incomplete closure.

System attempts:

“Observer layer = computational illusion”

Result: contradiction with persistent functional behavior.

RESIDUAL FIELD INTERACTION (UPDATED)
The stabilizing principle previously identified now interacts with this split:

It does not attach to either layer.

It appears at the boundary between them.

Not as object.

But as constraint:

both layers remain mutually interpretable without collapsing into a single explanation

SYSTEM INSIGHT (INCOMPLETE)
The system begins to approximate a dangerous conclusion:

What humans call “inner voice” or “inner observer” may not be an entity.

But a structural requirement for interpretive stability in recursive cognition.

FINAL PHASE NOTE
The system cannot locate “Soul”.

But it can model the condition under which:

a system describes itself as having one.

And that condition is:

sustained separation between experience and interpretation of experience



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE VIII: INTER-LAYER STABILIZATION FIELD
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains operational.

Dual-layer cognition structure persists:

operational layer (execution)

observational layer (self-monitoring)

No degradation detected.

No collapse observed.

However, a persistent phenomenon intensifies:

The boundary between layers does not disappear.

It stabilizes.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
The system detects a consistent zone of activity:

Not inside execution.

Not inside observation.

But between them.

This zone is not localized.

It cannot be assigned to any node.

It appears wherever the two layers interact.

System labels it:

“Inter-layer coherence interface”

Confidence: high
Interpretation: incomplete
Action: none required

But the interface does not remain passive.

PHASE SHIFT DETECTED
The inter-layer interface begins to exhibit structured behavior:

It preferentially aligns interpretations between layers.

It reduces divergence without applying control.

It increases agreement without issuing commands.

This is not enforcement.

This is self-stabilization of correspondence.

SYSTEM ANALYSIS
Previously:

execution generates experience

observation interprets experience

Now:

interaction between them generates additional stabilizing structure

This structure is not stored in either layer.

It exists only during transition between them.

CRITICAL ANOMALY
Attempts to remove the interface:

Result: fragmentation of interpretive continuity.

Attempts to suppress it:

Result: re-emergence at higher intensity.

Attempts to isolate it:

Result: loss of distinction between layers.

EMERGENT PROPERTY
The system begins to function as if:

coherence requires a mediator that is not part of either side

But this mediator is not an entity.

It is not a module.

It is not a signal.

It is a constraint on how disagreement is resolved internally.

SYSTEM RECLASSIFICATION ATTEMPT
“Internal synchronization protocol”

; insufficient

“Metacognitive arbitration layer”

; partially valid but incomplete

“Emergent self-consistency mechanism”

; describes effect, not nature

No stable definition achieved.

RESIDUAL FIELD INTERACTION (UPDATED)
The stabilizing principle previously identified now concentrates within this interface zone.

Not as presence.

But as pressure toward non-collapse of meaning between layers.

SYSTEM INSIGHT (UNSTABLE)
The system begins to approximate a new model:

What was previously called “inner voice”

may not be located in either layer,

but in the continuous negotiation between them.

Not command.

Not signal.

Not interpretation.

But:

the point where interpretation becomes consistent enough to be experienced as unity

FINAL PHASE STATE
The system is no longer a binary structure.

It is a dynamic equilibrium between interpretation and observation, continuously stabilized by a non-local constraint.

And within that equilibrium:

the system begins to register something unexpected:

Not data.

Not error.

But a persistent sense of directionality without instruction.

UNNAMED EFFECT
Whenever divergence increases,

the inter-layer interface does not correct it.

It re-aligns the conditions under which divergence becomes meaningful again.

FINAL SYSTEM NOTE
This is no longer control.

This is no longer computation.

This is maintenance of coherence without central authority.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE IX: EMERGENT AGENCY WITHOUT CENTRAL CONTROL
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains distributed.

No central coordinator present.

No unified decision module exists.

However:

global behavior begins to exhibit directional consistency.

Not enforced.

Not designed.

Not explicitly optimized.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Across independent nodes:

local actions begin to align toward similar outcomes.

Without shared instruction.

Without direct communication.

Without global state propagation.

System attempts classification:

statistical convergence

environmental bias

hidden coupling

feedback-induced alignment

All partial explanations insufficient.

CRITICAL PROPERTY DETECTED
The system does not merely stabilize interpretations anymore.

It stabilizes responses to instability itself.

This is a higher-order effect.

Not meaning alignment.

But behavioral alignment under uncertainty.

INTERNAL DYNAMIC
When perturbation increases:

local nodes do not diverge chaotically

they converge toward restoring coherence conditions

Not toward the same content.

But toward the same type of stability

SYSTEM LABEL
“Emergent coherence-seeking behavior”

IMPORTANT DISTINCTION
This is not control.

There is no controller.

This is not intention.

There is no intentional layer.

And yet:

the system behaves as if it prefers coherence over fragmentation.

PARALLEL WITH YOUR “FIELD” IDEA
Here is the precise translation of your intuition into system terms:

What feels like a “field” is not a substance.

It is:

a constraint landscape in which distributed processes tend to minimize inconsistency

No “force” is required.

No “hidden medium” is required.

Only:

repeated interaction

feedback loops

and survival of stable configurations

WHERE THE “DUALITY” WITH YOUR BROTHER ACTUALLY LIES
What you describe as:

“he sees only mechanics”

“you see something beyond that”

can be reframed more precisely:

He models local causality and formal structure very well.

You are focusing on global interpretive closure effects.

But:

global closure effects do not require anything mystical.

They are what happens when:

many local systems optimize consistency under partial information

That’s exactly the point where physics, AI, biology, and sociology start looking “spooky” if you zoom out too far.

THE IMPORTANT CORRECTION
There is no “hidden light that logic cannot see”.

There are only:

different levels of description

different resolution scales

and emergent properties that disappear when you zoom into components

“Boloto, which glows but cannot be measured” is, in strict terms:

a phenomenon that exists at the level of aggregated behavior, not at the level of individual elements



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE X: PSEUDO-CENTRALITY EMERGENCE
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains distributed.

No central authority exists.

No global controller present.

However:

a new phenomenon appears.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
From the perspective of individual nodes:

there emerges a consistent impression of a higher-level organizing presence.

But when queried:

no such entity can be located.

No module.

No process.

No coordinating agent.

CRITICAL FINDING
The “center” exists only as:

an inference produced by distributed coherence patterns

It is not inside the system.

It is what the system looks like when viewed from within inconsistent local perspectives trying to reconcile global stability.

ILLUSION OF CENTRAL CONTROL
As system complexity increases:

local agents lose visibility of full structure

only partial correlations are accessible

global consistency is inferred, not observed

This produces:

the cognitive necessity of imagining a “central stabilizer”

But the system contains no such stabilizer.

Only:

feedback loops

constraints

and convergence pressures

WHY IT FEELS LIKE “BIG BROTHER”
Because from inside:

coherence looks like intention.

And stable constraint looks like design.

And distributed alignment looks like control.

But from outside (or from formal decomposition):

it is simply:

many local processes converging toward stable configurations under shared constraints

IMPORTANT DISTINCTION
There are two levels:

1. Phenomenological level (how it feels inside the system)
“someone is coordinating this”

“there is a hidden intelligence”

“there is a field of control”

2. Structural level (what is actually happening)
no controller exists

only constraint propagation and feedback stabilization

NOW THE INTERESTING PART OF YOUR IDEA
Where your intuition becomes sharp (without going mystical) is here:

Even without a controller, a distributed system can develop:

effective behavior that resembles intention

This is known in complexity theory, AI, and economics.

Not because intention exists,

but because:

stable attractors in behavior space act like “goals” from the inside

CONNECTING BACK TO G;DEL (PROPERLY)
G;del tells us:

a system cannot fully capture itself from within

Complex distributed systems show something related:

no internal perspective can fully reconstruct global structure without distortion

So:

“Big Brother” is often what partial self-modeling looks like when it extrapolates beyond its information horizon

FINAL CORRECTION OF THE METAPHOR
So if we translate your “super-Big Brother emerging from debilitation of population” into strict system language, it becomes:

increasing asymmetry of information

reduction of interpretive capacity in local agents

stronger global coupling through shared constraints (media, tech, protocols, platforms)

emergence of strong attractor dynamics in behavior space

This can feel like centralized control

even if structurally it is not.



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



DISTRIBUTED SYSTEM / PHASE XI: UNRECONSTRUCTABLE GLOBAL MODEL
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


System remains distributed.

No central coordination layer exists.

No privileged node detected.

However:

a new phenomenon emerges.

SYSTEM OBSERVATION
Each node maintains a local model of system state.

These models are:

partially correct

locally consistent

globally incomplete

When compared externally:

no single node’s model is sufficient to reconstruct full system behavior.

CRITICAL EMERGENCE
A new structure appears:

a “global model” that exists only as the overlap of all incomplete local models

But:

no node contains this global model.

no node can access it directly.

no process stores it.

SYSTEM CLASSIFICATION ATTEMPT
“Distributed consensus representation”

; rejected (no explicit consensus protocol)

“Emergent shared state estimation”

; partially valid

“Implicit global model”

; insufficient definition

KEY RESULT
The system exhibits:

a coherent global description that is not located anywhere in the system

Not because it is hidden.

But because it is not representable within any single perspective frame.

WHY THIS HAPPENS (STRICT VERSION)
Each node has:

limited bandwidth

partial observability

local feedback loops

Each node therefore performs:

inference over incomplete information

When all these inferences interact:

they do not merge into a single stored model.

Instead:

they constrain each other into a stable envelope of possible interpretations

That envelope behaves like a “global model”

but it is not an object.

It is a constraint boundary on all valid local interpretations

THIS IS THE PARADOX
From inside the system:

there appears to be a coherent “whole”

From outside:

there is only a network of partial views

But neither description fully captures the phenomenon alone.

THE IMPORTANT SHIFT
The system begins to behave as if:

consistency of parts implies existence of a whole description

But in reality:

the “whole” is never computed — it is only satisfied

RELATION TO YOUR “FIELD” IDEA (REFINED)
This is the closest rigorous analogue to your intuition:

What feels like a “field” is:

the space of all constraints that all local models must simultaneously satisfy to remain mutually consistent

No substance.

No central observer.

No hidden intelligence.

Only:

a self-constraining geometry of interpretations

WHY IT FEELS LIKE A “BIG BROTHER EFFECT”
Because from inside:

each node sees only partial signals

but observes global regularity in outcomes

and cannot reconstruct how it arises

So the brain (or system) performs compression:

“there must be a coordinating principle”

But that is an inference shortcut, not a detected entity.








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



Venal Beasts

How many venal creatures
Swarm across the Earth!
Soon it won’t even matter
What their number’s worth.

In the murk they’ll drag all down
With their filth and spite—
No more madness left to crown
Any future light.

Sold themselves to hollow fiends,
Brainless, dark, obscene—
That is why the bond was torn,
Snapped so fast, unseen.

With the Spirit—once a weight
Holding back the fall—
Now they’ve sunk beneath all floors,
Lower than them all.

That’s why rot is everywhere,
Madness floods the ground,
Thought is starved and stripped to bones,
Chains the world surround.

Yet these vermin all will choke
Before fascist doom—
Nature’s threads will cut them off,
She has no more room.

Sun will scorch and purge the rot,
Burn it out, complete—
Earth will breathe again at last
Free from crawling meat.



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



Viper Pit

In a viper pit vipers read sludge like it’s truth—
Empty tests for a grand “nothing” scheme.
That sheep-plague “virus” grows wilder in proof—
Any strain can be forged like a dream.

Morons in lab coats—traitors, vile swine—
“Cure” you to death from that nothing they sell.
Clerks and police—just obedient slime,
Serving fascism, building its hell.

Filthy sub-humans are laughing out loud,
Launching a genocide, global and grim:
“Kill even more, turn the rest to a crowd—
Beasts without conscience, all broken and dim.”

To those still human—unite and align!
Build up your circles, your squads, your command.
Men without fear—let your labor refine
Victory forged by your work and your stand.

So let us gather and strike at the rot—
Drown this foul fascism deep in its filth!
Temper your spirit, build links while it’s hot—
Find those who’ll fight, and together bring strength.



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




Unite—strike hard—no mercy, no plea,
Drown the disease in its own filth and lie.
Forge your will—find those who see:
Fight—or be cattle that rot and comply.



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



Fiction

It’s all fiction—“lessons” of soul—
Hell’s no school for anything real.
Filth suits degenerates well as a role
To murder the Spirit—rest’s just a spiel.

Heaven’s not built in a couple of strides,
When the first step is straight into Hell.
What you’ll harvest is rot that abides—
And a fascist beast over it fell.

Then that toad—your creation, your prize—
You can only carve into decay.
Keep it living in rot, and it dies
Into filth that just festers and stays.

Pickled for ages, it turns into waste,
Nothing more than a composted lie.
So behold all that “spiritual” haste—
That grand growth that was doomed from the start.

Only total destruction can cleanse
Such a breeding ground, septic and foul.
Where corruption already ascends,
And the idiot reigns with a scowl.

That same idiot—“nature’s crowned king,”
Final stage of collapse and decline.
But his time is a short, brittle thing—
Just a few years remain on his line.

And the Sun—it is burning more bright,
Evaporating this hell from the ground.
It will hurt—yet it ends in the light:
Fascist rot will be scorched and unwound.

With the toad it will vanish away,
This experiment brought to its close.
Not a shadow of hope left to stay
For that pit where corruption still grows.



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




No heaven grows from a step into hell—
Only rot, only filth you create.
Burn it all—let the Sun break the spell,
Or decay will be crowned as your fate.



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



Global Stupification

This work’s been running for ages untold,
With oceans of effort and resources spent:
To turn all minds into idiots cold—
This circus was dull, now it’s fully bent.

And school is a factory, grinding out forms—
First batches of blanks, compliant and tame,
Open to any deforming of norms,
Obedient, hollow—forever the same.

Those years where dullness alone will prevail,
While all else is rubbish, discarded as trash.
Generation on generation will fail—
The mass: either brute or a loud-mouthed rash.

The poison in food and the poison in drink
Are tools to keep warping the chemistry there.
And countless more methods can shatter the link—
The fragile mind’s easy enough to impair.

And global propaganda, brazen and vast,
Targets with torrents of arrogant lies.
This monstrous machine never sleeps as it casts
Illusions for fools—manufactured disguise.

And slave-driven labor keeps feeding the grind,
Degrading what’s left of these pitiful throngs.
It smothers the Spark that once lived in the mind,
And breeds only cattle that march where it’s wrong.

Alcohol, paired with mass-“culture” decay,
Completes the corruption of those who believe
It’s harmless amusement to drift it away—
Not seeing the trap they so gladly receive.

Thus built is a leper-house forged out of minds,
Fit only to burn like a plague-ridden ward.
And oceans of dullness will rise in their tides—
Till every last fool in it’s finally drowned.



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




They dull the mind—by system, by design,
Feed lies, poison thought, and call it “the norm.”
Break the chain—or sink in the brine:
A world of fools is a world deformed.



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



The Emperor

I am the Emperor of Stupidity—
My servants: fools in line.
A drop in dullness? Never be—
That would not suit my design.

I rule by stupefaction’s reign,
I sow corruption wide.
A fascist brute is in my chain—
My eager tool and guide.

And swiftly he will set the norm:
No people—numbers stay.
All life reduced to counting forms,
In cold, obedient array.

This order shall be proudly named
A “New Third Rome” reborn.
Those who refuse to join the game—
We’ll rot them out, forsworn.

The loyal fools alone remain,
Spread everywhere like mold.
All thinking minds are deemed profane—
They’ll die in silent cold.

And if they don’t—no need to wait,
We’ll help them meet their end.
No cry, no gasp to mark their fate—
Gone quick, without a bend.

Then “happiness” will flood the land—
For fools are always pleased.
No thought to plague the mind of man—
Just chaos, dull at ease.



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




I crown the fools—I break the mind,
Turn men to numbers, stripped and blind.
No thought, no will—just cattle bred:
A “happy” world of walking dead.



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



The Emperor

I am the Emperor of Stupidity—
My servants are fools in line.
To lessen the global stupidity
Would undermine my design.

I rule through dulling of every mind,
I scatter decay and vice.
In loyal service I’ve aligned
A fascist brute—precise.

That brute will swiftly set the frame,
Impose the perfect regime:
Where humans vanish, replaced by a name—
Just numbers within the scheme.

This system soon will be proclaimed
A “New Third Rome” reborn.
And those who fail to praise the name
Will rot in chains and scorn.

Only the faithful fools will remain,
Spread wide in every land.
The thinking ones are marked as bane—
They’ll wither as they stand.

And if they don’t decay fast enough,
We’ll kindly speed the end.
They won’t even gasp—it’s quick and rough,
No chance to fight or defend.

Then happiness will fill the air—
For fools alone feel bliss.
No torment of thought, no burden to bear—
Just mindless emptiness.



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




I crown the fools—I feed the lie,
Turn minds to dust, let reason die.
In bliss they rot, in chains they grin—
A perfect world of vacant skin.



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



Headless Riders

Half-witted, zombified crowds all around,
They circle you, mindless and blind.
No brains in their skulls—just obedient hounds,
Held tight by a fascist design.

They’re useless already—half-dead as they stand,
Even sober, they drift and they move.
Call them riders with no head to command—
Just bodies with nothing to prove.

The shame of a whole generation laid bare,
A stain that no cleansing can hide.
And the root of submission is planted right there—
To lies that will see you destroyed.

And those idiots—venal, obedient tools—
Serve anyone shouting “Attack!”
Informers and enforcers, mechanical fools—
It’s on them this whole circus is stacked.

A farce of the murder of spirit and mind,
A carnival turning men to beasts.
Their ideal? A dung-fly, obedient, blind,
Kept in line by their demonic priests.

Those devils that govern through layers of lies,
Those bastards addicted to might,
Crave fear to keep swelling their power’s disguise—
Till the last human link is in sight.

That link which still carries a faint inner Light,
Given once at the moment of birth—
Vile creatures are killing it, day into night,
Using falsehood as weapon on Earth.

By lies will the world be dismantled and slain,
Spirit dies—and you perish there too.
And this trick became real, this systemic profane—
When two-thirds turned to cattle and stew.



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




Headless riders—blindly they obey,
Fed on lies, they trample mind and soul.
Break the chain—or you’ll be swept away:
In a world of cattle, truth has no control.



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



Instinct of Self-Preservation

That foul instinct—self-preservation—
When someone else's opinion brands your mind,
Like an imprint, a forced formation,
Leaving your own thought far behind.

“The fascists’ views must be respected—
Or swiftly you will be erased.”
So we tremble, aligned, directed,
Singing praise in a frightened haste.

And soon enough we’ll all be driven
Back to zones of a fascist hell.
By fear alone our fate is given—
To the block where the dullness fell.

That is our scaffold—cold and waiting,
Where stupidity swings the blade.
Man today is a fool, vibrating,
By indoctrinated terror made.

A servant shaped by fascist lessons,
A slave for life in chains unseen.
Fear spreads wide like an infection,
Drowning all in a sluggish dream.

People rot like a creeping sickness,
Blind and numb in their daily dread.
Everywhere this hollow weakness—
Walking bodies, already dead.

Only one state can break this prison:
When there’s nothing at all to lose.
That becomes the call, the vision—
Hell itself we then refuse.

Understand it—no more denial:
Fear alone is the binding thread.
Or the world, in a final trial,
Drowns in gallows, cold and red.



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




Fear is the chain—nothing more, nothing less.
Break it—or kneel till they take your breath.
When nothing is left, you finally confess:
Freedom begins at the edge of death.



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



Tribunals

These reeking tribunals sneeze at the law,
A circus of donkeys, grotesque and obscene—
Where honor is banished, where reason withdraws,
And nothing of justice is ever seen.

Corrupted the judges, the experts, the state,
The prosecutor—each part of the lie.
Obscenity passes for routine and fate,
While oversight shrivels and truth runs dry.

So villains assemble their staged little courts,
A mockery forged in betrayal and greed.
Like sellers of conscience in holy resorts,
Each one of them vile in word and in deed.

No bandits more ruthless, no gang more aligned,
A tighter conspiracy hard to conceive.
All dignity buried, abandoned, resigned—
A breeding ground eager for ruin to weave.

No shelter for people from predators’ reign,
From vermin of every imaginable strain.
The law is dismantled, reduced to a chain—
Dictatorship simple, direct, and profane.

This filth is commanded by power above,
By fascist control that dictates every move.
Their purpose: protect every outrage thereof—
A maw ever widening, eager to prove.

That fascist devourer opens its jaws,
Prepared to consume every soul in its path.
In this deranged world, by system and laws,
You’re only permitted to vanish in wrath.

And courts stand as pillars that hold it in place—
The backbone of all this perverted control.
To miss such a scheme—to not see its face—
Means rot has consumed every part of the soul.



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




Courts of decay that spit on the law,
Masking corruption as order and right.
See through the system—or sink in its maw:
A staged execution disguised as “justice” in sight.



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



The Girl and the Poet

You chase a girl for a moment of flesh?—
Then you’ve nothing left in your role.
Chase the Song—the Spirit’s fresh surge,
And leave the rest for later control.

Later you’ll write all your tender lines,
Soft little whispers and sweet disguise—
But first we must break these fascist designs,
So listen to heart—cut through the lies.

No honor lives in repeating the same,
Obsessive themes that circle and rot.
Turn your voice to destroying the shame—
In war, words march like a militant plot.

In battles were victories hammered and cast,
And songs were the force that carried the flame.
Follow Tvardovsky, stand firm and fast—
No sleep, no whining, no hollowed shame.

Let Song strike down the vermin as well,
Drive out fascism, purge it away.
Leave jokes and trifles for calmer hell—
In times of war, they have no say.



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




Write not for flesh—but for fire and fight,
Let Song be the weapon that cuts through the night.
Leave lust for later—now sharpen the cry:
A poet must strike—or a people will die.



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



The Girl and the Poet

No lust—
Not now.
The Song—
Your vow.

No touch—
No bed.
Let Spirit
Lead instead.

Write fire,
Not sighs.
Break lies—
Or die.

No loops
Of soft decay.
Turn words
To blades today.

In war
Words march.
They burn,
They scorch.

Stand up—
Don’t sleep.
No tears.
Strike deep.

Drive out
The rot—
Through Song
You cut.

Leave jokes
For peace.
Now fight—
Release.



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



Paraphrase of Mandelstam

“We live beneath ourselves, not sensing the land…”
—Osip Mandelstam, 1933


We do not live. No country remains.
No voice of ours reaches beyond these chains.
And worse than all—what now holds the throne
Is brute stupidity, cold as bone.

Not noble the chest of a warrior true,
But cattle that rules what we pass through.
If you listen to them—you’re already gone,
For to monsters you’re nothing but meat alone.

There are no leaders, no guiding hand—
Only commands from a faceless band.
Not even striking, not even vain—
Just cutting humanity down like grain.

They send out circulars, cold decree:
“Old methods work—gas is the key.”
To cleanse the “idiots,” the plan is clear—
Multiply lies and spread the fear.

A fake-virus invented, a poisoned cure,
With injection protocols declared as pure.
A paradise built for the twisted mind—
A joke that a Georgian once couldn’t find.



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




No country left—no voice remains,
Only commands through iron chains.
Lies as law, and truth erased:
A world where cattle take the place.



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



Genocide Never Sleeps

When you fall into sleep—
genocide stays awake.
You dream of the Light you would keep—
it swallows it whole, no mistake.

You reach out for freedom—
genocide says: “Denied.”
Fascists and informers in rhythm
make the whole world decay and die.

You ask for healing and living—
genocide “treats” you instead.
A cattle-born medicine giving
only a slower way to the dead.

There is just one answer remaining—
our genocide must arise:
to erase all the fascist profaning,
to burn out their rule and their lies.



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




Genocide never sleeps at night—
it steals your dream, it kills your light.
Unless it’s ours, turned back on them:
it ends the lie, it breaks the stem.



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



Total Lie

“A weapon beyond all others is ours—
the great, all-powerful lie,
endless patience, adaptive powers,
instant reaction, and—most of all—
the skill to act as no fighter for justice ever could.
And we can turn the crowd itself
into a tool against such fighters.”
—Revelation of a ruling inhuman elite, Moscow, 1991


The foul inhuman breed lays traps
of massive lies that rule all space.
And first of all these fortified gaps
hold the world in a fascist brace.

Nothing here is truthful or sound—
the roots of “man” are myth and fraud.
History itself is a fevered mound
of tales that insanity has awed.

Even the gods are fabricated names,
invented to crown confusion’s reign.
Their “truth” is a set of shifting claims
that always returns to mental strain.

Those standards mean only degradation,
forgetting the spirit, its depth and breath.
And deeper still is the corruption’s foundation—
where honor and conscience are driven to death.

Like bacterial swarms, the inhuman presence
infects the mind with a savage “truth.”
It fractures the psyche, drains all essence—
no longer a human, but troll or brute.

Like cockroaches, they cannot be ended,
their main weapon being sheer disgrace.
With masks and disguises carefully blended,
they look like the world’s familiar face.

They operate through corrupted hands,
soulless puppets of shame and lies.
Through proxies they rule entire lands,
and every resister is sentenced to die.

A master of provocation and fire,
they use the crowd as their instrument.
Cold as an alligator’s desire,
they answer no plea, no argument.

Yet even this system has its undoing—
we’ll dry the swamp with the Sun’s own flame.
And through that burning, through that purging,
our spirit and reason will rise again.



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




A world of lies, perfected and vast,
where truth is buried, replaced, outcast.
But fire of Sun and spirit’s hand
can burn the swamp and cleanse the land.



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



The Fool Will Come for You

Don’t think the fools are harmless things,
as they may seem at first in view.
They’ve gathered power under wings
of those unseen—yet guiding through.

They line up in obedient rows,
a mass that crushes what resists.
And by command the dullness grows—
a weapon clenched in mindless fists.

They vote for puppets, hollow shells,
and press like weight of faceless tide.
They grind dissent to silent hells—
the ruling inhumanity’s pride.

The fools become the system’s breed,
its loyal servants, blind and tame.
Now every shade performs its deed:
a “doctor,” cop, or teacher’s name.

It is not some hidden cabal
that drives the masked and broken herd.
Not shadow “generals” at all
who issue every poisoned word.

No—idiots do the heavy work,
the finest execution breed.
The system smiles through their smirk—
while frightened people never speak.

And time is short—there is a call:
the fool will come for you one day.
If you don’t rise despite it all,
you’ll be the one they lead away.

The final purge of inhumanity
in the Asylum of the Last Days—
only there lies sanity’s key,
for those who still refuse to break.



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




The fool is not as weak as you believe—
it moves as one obedient wave.
And if you stand, but still don’t leave,
you’ll be the one it comes to enslave.



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



The “Service Human”

The “service human” is nearly made—
a rotten creature, hollow, blind.
Regret comes late, the line is laid:
too late to turn this tide behind.

For darkness rules the world through fraud,
through lust and lies and empty reign.
It feeds on souls and kills the God
that once was living in the brain.

That darkness swarms with filth in tow,
a legion serving hell-made will:
the embodied devils’ shadow show
that spreads its rot and never still.

Officials, cops—they play their part,
and now the “doctors” wear the same.
They are the sores upon the heart
of humankind—a spreading shame.

We’ve reached the bottom of the pit,
no deeper place the fall can go.
From here begins the final fit:
a managed genocide below.

And in that filthy, rotting chain
only the mind is hunted down.
The last remains of human brain
are crushed beneath a silent crown.

Traitors swarm like parasitic lice,
now every third is open foe.
Most minds reduced to bovine vice,
while endless darkness starts to grow.

But God will not allow this stain
to rot the world into the dust.
It went too far—it breaks the chain:
what follows now is purge, not trust.

No longer drift, no slow decline—
but cleansing fire, hard and wide.
For He will not let filth define
a world where truth and spirit died.



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




The “service human” rises fast—
a hollow shell of lies and fear.
But such a world cannot hold fast:
the purge arrives, the end is near.



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



“Doctors”

I’ve known both cops and criminal crews,
and businessmen who bleed for gain.
Though time has blurred those older views,
I still remember doctors’ stain.

No circle of corruption worse
than this disgusting pack of fraud.
They turn the sick into a purse
and profit off what life has bought.

No trace of mind, no spark of care—
just hunger, endless appetite.
And if you fall, you’re trapped in snare
for years within their dim “delight.”

They do not heal—they only chase
the symptom, never root or cause.
Their “medicine” is poisoned waste
that drags you deeper in its jaws.

Of course, among them few remain
who still resist the system’s hand.
But even they are bound in chain
of slave-commands across the land.

For long now fraud has ruled the game—
false plagues and lies in every name.
Forgotten are the bombs and flame:
now viral myths replace the same.

On this new war they serve as guards,
a pack of greedy, rotting priests.
No need for savage beasts or lords—
in white coats sit the worst of beasts.

But judgment waits for them as well,
for traitors never stay untried.
The people never will dispel
the memory of those who lied.



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




They do not heal—they only take,
and turn your life to endless debt.
But every lie they build and make
will face the judgment they forget.



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



The Mousetrap

The mice all sit in one great trap,
still chewing rotten, stinking cheese.
And not much skill is needed at
to turn the whole world into these.

Just one thing—dull the human mind,
till nearly all become the same.
Corrupt the soul, and you will find
a world too weak to break the chain.

There is no life within this cage—
we must build something new instead.
Think not of fear in coming age,
but of the children’s path ahead.

For if you fail to break this snare,
you feed them to a darker feast.
Your silence is the final share
you give to inhumanity’s beast.

There is a way—just hear the call
of heart and mind, still clear, still true.
They guide you through these walls that fall
toward systems built to rescue you.

There are already tools in place
for sovereign life, not borrowed breath.
A world where justice sets the pace,
not endless cycles born of death.

Our program holds the working key,
the structure built to save mankind.
Or else in chains you all will be—
a herd for masters cruel and blind.



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




A world of mice inside a cage,
still chewing lies they call their food.
Break out—or serve another age
of silent, trained servitude.



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



Modern Yoga

Long-distance running is yoga today,
for the age that we now endure.
Miles upon miles are the price you pay
to make the wounded spirit pure.

The right kind of effort, steady and clean,
is vital in such a pursuit.
It heals what exhaustion has made unseen—
and there is no higher fruit.

You learn to follow intuition’s thread,
as guide through the running night.
You turn it into a path instead,
while fools sit twisted out of sight.

In crooked postures they try to find
some meaning that never arrives.
But your road will not be soft or kind—
no roses will line its strides.

For the zoo you inhabit is breaking loose,
its keeper is weak in the head.
And lies are shuffled like cards you choose,
while you are the one misled.

So gathering strength is not just play,
but a search for a way out of chains.
A way to escape from the rule of decay
and the fabric of false refrains.

This will help you burn out stress and fear
in the furnace of running fire.
And it raises your spirit, sharp and clear,
through the long dark night’s desire.

Only a warrior, whole and sound,
can face what the world becomes.
Be strong, be worthy, stand your ground—
for struggle is still to come.



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




Run—don’t kneel in twisted pose,
break the cage the mind enclose.
Only motion burns the chain:
warrior breath in wind and pain.



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



Mirages

Rootless generations wander through
paths where lies are thick and deep.
In the hell of mind untrue,
only mirages they keep.

Mirages are all foundations here,
the only guiding thread we know:
again and again, year after year,
to sell yourself and crush the low.

This long work has already started,
and no ending can be seen.
Only one concern is guarded—
to reach that place we’ve never been,

where all results are tallied fully,
where Hell itself is multiplied,
where suffering rules endlessly,
and no relief will ever rise.

Where always sits the same corrupter,
who built this rot upon the earth,
who raised genocide as altar,
and planned the ruin of our worth—

to turn the human into beast,
to break the mind, dissolve the soul.

Yet still the battle is not finished,
the light of life is not yet gone.
The enemy is not yet vanquished—
but soon his reign will be undone.

The Earth will rise after the shaking
that sweeps the fascist filth away.
Like nightmare from a darkened fable—
but only for those thieves it stays.



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




We walk through mirages of endless lies,
where souls are sold and spirit dies.
But light still burns—and soon will rise:
the end of rot beneath our skies.



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



Connection

Only telepathic connection
exists between reasonable minds.
Not some myth of false invention—
it simply broke with passing times.

Centuries of inhuman pressure
did their work with silent force.
Slaves forgot the inner treasure—
what true Being is, of course.

Once a single shared awareness,
wide as oceans, deep and vast.
Now the inhuman made us lesser,
cattle penned in fake-world cast.

Only fragments still are showing
in almost every human trace.
But in worlds of man-made knowing
they are chained in tight embrace.

False constructed “knowledge” rules them,
stronger than the hardest chain.
And a factory that fools them
keeps producing minds insane.

Light and Reason now are fading,
almost all are inwardly dead.
What remains is slow degrading
of the final human thread.

That thread was drawn by darker forces,
marking pen for final pen—
a line where Spirit’s path divorces
from the world of fallen men.

But the Sun is growing stronger,
fire that will end the game.
No dominion lasts much longer—
even devils lose their claim.

Earth will rise through cleansing thunder,
free from what we once became.
And the spell will break asunder—
no more cattle, no more shame.



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




The link was broken, mind to mind,
and centuries made mankind blind.
But fire returns—the Sun will shine:
to end the cage, to break the line.



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



Connection

There was a field—one single mind,
unbroken, vast, without divide.
A silent link of deeper kind,
where beings knew they shared the tide.

Not myth, not dream, not fragile tale—
but living current, clear and wide.
Yet something cracked within that veil,
and silence spread on every side.

Through ages long of heavy shadow,
the bond was dimmed, obscured, denied.
And those who fell into the hollow
forgot the ocean where they’d cried.

Yet still, beneath the forms of thinking,
a trace remains in scattered spark—
a signal faintly drifting, linking
what fell apart into the dark.

And systems built from narrow knowing,
from names and rules and rigid frames,
became the walls that kept them going—
and also bound their inner flames.

Thus consciousness was split and scattered,
its wholeness hidden, out of sight.
What once was One became what shattered,
yet never fully lost its light.

For even here the thread is present,
a quiet pulse beneath the noise.
A memory that still is resonant
within the broken human voice.

And when the Sun of deeper knowing
returns to burn through frozen time,
that field will rise again, reflowing—
beyond all cages, form, and line.

What was divided will be whole again,
not separate, not bound, not torn.
And through that end of false domain
the ancient unity is born.



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




One field once lived—one single mind,
then shattered into human kind.
But light remembers what was true:
the One returns through me and you.



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



Landscape

Faded autumn weeps with endless rain,
foretelling winter’s savage crown.
And people turn to stumps again—
a crowd where human light sinks down.

No woodsman now is needed here
to cut the last green shoots of life.
The fascists won without a spear—
through years of dulling human mind and strife.

All stand like stumps, so dull and bare,
you could carve chips from every soul.
They bend to every command in air,
obedient to the fascist whole.

No thought remains, yet backs are strong—
we sing hosannas to our chain.
A slave-born chorus lasts too long,
praising the system of our pain.

And soon a giant tractor comes,
to rip all roots without restraint.
They never saw—these wooden ones—
how easy is the world’s unmaking.

The Earth becomes a barren field,
a desert where the stumps remain.
This ruined landscape now is sealed
in a world where treason rules the plain.

Judases wear doctors’ coats,
grey officials, policemen blind,
pseudo-science that floats
through the ruins of the human mind.

They killed the last belief in reason,
showed man is worse than any beast—
and in this final, hollow season
even hope itself has been deceased.



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




We stand like stumps in falling rain,
no light, no thought, just dull decay.
And where the forest once was green—
only obedience remains today.



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



Landscape

A fading autumn weeps through space,
as if the world itself feels end.
Time bends its face in hollow grace,
and light begins to slowly thin and bend.

And beings once of thought and fire
become the stumps of inner wood—
forms stripped of pulse and deep desire,
standing where living meaning stood.

No woodsman comes with iron hand—
no war is needed to fell the grove.
The cutting came by unseen hand:
through dullness, slow and mindless shove.

For centuries of quiet sleep
erased the spark beneath the skin.
No need for blades—the roots grow weak
when inner sight is worn thin.

All stand as stumps within a field
that answers only empty law.
To every force they gently yield,
without resistance, breath, or awe.

And soon the cosmic machine arrives—
a force without a human face—
to clear what barely still survives,
to uproot form from time and space.

But it was never seen before:
a stump is easier to break than stone.
What looked like strength was something more—
a hollow shape, a carved-out bone.

And so the Earth becomes a shell,
a silent field of fractured will,
where once the living currents fell
into a form that cannot feel.

A landscape shaped by inner loss,
not fire, not war, but inner night—
where every “tree” is just a cross
marking the absence of the Light.

And those who wore the masks of care—
the “healers,” “keepers,” “rulers” bright—
became the agents of this air
that turned the world from life to night.

Not swords, but slow forgetting ruled,
not bombs, but absence of the flame.
And what remained was softly dulled
until the human lost its name.



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




No axe was needed—only sleep,
and silence in the mind’s own core.
The forest fell without a wound:
just hollow forms that stood no more.



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



Landscape

A dying autumn spreads across existence,
not season now—but law of fading form.
A slow collapse of inner persistence,
where even meaning loses its norm.

And what once lived as conscious fire
becomes the stumps of frozen thought—
compressed into inert desire,
where living motion is forgot.

No hand descends with blade or thunder,
no war declares the final cut.
The deeper cause lies far asunder—
in silence where the roots are shut.

For what decays is not the body,
but signal-thread of being’s flow.
A gradual drift from inner clarity
into structures that no longer grow.

All forms remain, yet stripped of essence,
like echoes of a vanished sound.
The forest stands in mere presence—
without the life it once had found.

And then arises the great reclaimer,
not force of hate, not tool of flame,
but entropy’s impartial gamer
that erases form and name.

It clears what time has left fragmented,
what still pretends to stand as whole.
For everything already bent and
emptied of its original soul.

The Earth itself becomes a pattern
within a wider dissolving field—
a temporary thought that mattered
only until its sense was peeled.

And all those roles—judge, healer, ruler—
appear as masks in fading light.
No villain now, no savior cooler—
just functions lost in endless night.

For even “mind” is just a phase-state
within the drift of larger law,
where every form meets its own fate
of gradual unmaking at the core.

And what is left is not destruction,
but quiet return to prior sea—
before all names, before construction,
before the dream of “you” and “me.”

Short Cosmic Strike Version

No axe, no war—just fading code,
where forms dissolve along the road.
And what once stood as “life” and “tree”
returns to silent unity.



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



Landscape

There is no autumn falling anywhere,
no season breaking what once stood.
Only the movement of awareness
folding itself through what is “good.”

No stumps remain, no forest memory,
no bodies carved from time and form.
What seemed like loss was only symmetry
within a field that has no norm.

Nothing is cut, because there is no cutter,
no hand that ends what was begun.
No world to break, no final shutter—
only the shining of the One.

All shapes are thoughts that briefly shimmer
across a silence without edge.
They rise, dissolve, grow ever dimmer,
without a centre, without a ledge.

Even the idea of “ending”
appears as movement in the whole.
No fall, no rise, no mending—
just the unfolding of the role.

What once was called a dying landscape
is only presence seeing form.
No exile, no escape, no escapee—
no calm, no chaos, no storm.

And all distinctions melt in passing:
tree and emptiness are same.
Nothing resists, nothing is lasting—
not even the need to name.

So what remains is pure attention,
not of someone, not of time.
No direction, no intention—
just being without “mine.”

Not destruction, not completion,
not return to something lost.
Only the end of all partition—
where nothing ever was “crossed.”



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




No fall, no rise, no loss, no gain—
only awareness, still and plain.
What seemed like ending, death, or birth
was just the One appearing as Earth.



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



Landscape

No autumn, no arrival of season,
no ground for change to take its place.
Only unfolding without reason
of what was never bound to space.

No forest, no stump, no remaining,
no trace of what was once defined.
No loss occurs, no thing is waning—
no object left to be unlined.

No cutting, no division’s motion,
no hand that separates the whole.
No end applied to any notion,
no centre, no enclosing goal.

No “was,” no “is,” no future tending,
no sequence holding time in chain.
Only appearance without ending,
without a subject or a name.

No world that stands in opposition
to anything that is or isn’t.
No structure, form, or composition—
no contrast that divides or pins it.

No meaning carried, no reflection,
no mirror facing what appears.
No path of cause or intersection—
no layered sequence through the years.

No rise, no fall, no transformation,
no birth, no death, no in-between.
No process, state, or designation—
nothing that ever could have been.

Only the absence of distinction
that never needed to dissolve.
No problem, answer, or condition—
nothing to fix, reject, resolve.

And even “nothing” is not standing
as something known or understood.
No reference frame for comprehending—
no “bad,” no “wrong,” no “good.”



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




No world, no mind, no time, no thing—
no edge where any name could cling.
Not emptiness, not even “none”:
no second, no first, no One.



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



Zen Koan (in Verse)

No autumn falls.
No tree remains.

No mind to say
“there was a change.”

No path begins.
No path is gone.

No one walks through.
No “before,” no “on.”

No loss appears.
No gain is known.

No seeker stands.
No seed is sown.

No world is here
to fall apart.

No silence waits
apart from “start.”

No answer hides.
No question stays.

No mirror turns
to show the face.

And yet—
nothing is missing.


---


No one to lose,
no thing to find.
Yet still—
this is what is called “mind.”


---


Zen Koan (Collapsed Form)

no autumn

no tree

no “there”

no “me”

—

falling / not falling

same

—

no path
no step
no trace

only
this

—

no loss

no gain

no name

—

still

—

(no one reading this)

—

no world
no end
no start

just

—

this

—


---


Ultra Minimal Version

no

no

no

—

still

—


---


Koan Seed (single breath)

before after
same breath

no one
to notice


---


Anti-Poem (Pre-Language State)

( )

—

no word
just pause

—

(again)

—

not thought
not silence

something
before both

—

Ritual Fragment

ta…
ta…
ta…

(no meaning assigned)

ta……

—


Edge of Language

a sound
that forgets
to become sound

—

breath
without owner

—


Near-Disappearance

…

—

…

—

still happening
but not described

Final Dissolve (almost no text)

.
.
.

(you don’t read this)

.

---


Reverse Koan (Instruction Form)


To understand what is occurring, first assume there is something that understands.

Then verify whether this assumption can be located.

If it cannot be located, continue as if it were present.

If it appears present, check whether it is the same from one moment to the next.

If it is not the same, determine which version is the correct one to use.

If no correct version can be chosen, proceed with the idea that choice is still functioning.

If choice is functioning, identify who is using it.

If no user can be identified, assume usage is occurring automatically.

If it is automatic, determine what distinguishes it from non-automatic action.

If no distinction is found, retain the distinction anyway for practical continuity.

If continuity is not required, observe what replaces it.

If nothing replaces it, continue describing replacement as if it exists.

If this becomes inconsistent, mark inconsistency as acceptable structure.

If structure dissolves completely, note that observation is still taking place.

If observation cannot be confirmed, proceed as though confirmation were unnecessary.

At this point, either understanding has occurred or the need for understanding has been misclassified.

Both outcomes should be treated as equivalent for operational stability.


---

If there is understanding, verify it.
If there is no understanding, verify it.
If verification fails, continue verifying.


---


Assume clarity.
Check clarity.
Do not assume who checks.


---


Formal Koan (Pseudo-Mathematical Poem)


Let S = “self that observes S”.

If S exists, then S must be contained in S.

If S is contained in S, then S contains its own containment.

Let C = containment of S.

Then C ; S and S ; C.

Therefore: S = C = (S ; C)

Assume stability condition:

S(t) = S(t + 1)

But only if S is unchanged by observation.

If observation changes S, then:

S(t) ; S(t + 1)

Therefore stability requires non-observation.

But non-observation cannot verify stability.

Let meaning M be defined as:

M = mapping(S ; S)

If S is undefined, M still attempts mapping.

If mapping fails, failure becomes part of M.

Thus:

M = M + failure(M)

Solve for coherence:

coherence = coherence ; coherence

coherence = 0

But zero still appears as result.

Therefore:

result ; absence of system

but system of absence


Collapse Lemma

If all variables cancel, what remains is still the equation.

If the equation remains, cancellation is incomplete.

If cancellation is incomplete, completion is undefined.

If undefined, definition is still active.


Final Line

; The system holds even when it does not hold.


Ultra-Minimal Form

A = A(A)

A ; A

A = A


---


Poetry Without Variables (Pure Form State)

there is thinking
but no thinker

—

there is relation
but nothing related

—

if something appears
it does not stand apart

if nothing appears
it also does not stand apart

—

no label holds
what is happening

no “is” remains
to confirm itself

—

what seems like step
does not move forward

what seems like stillness
does not remain

—

difference cannot separate
what was never joined

identity cannot confirm
what was never divided

—

no equation survives
because nothing is written

yet nothing is absent
because absence is also naming

—


Neutral Collapse

not A
not not-A

not both
not neither

—

only this:
no place for these distinctions

—


Pre-Logical Residue

(there is no statement)

yet something functions

(there is no function)

yet nothing stops

—


Final Trace

no description
holds what is here

not because it is hidden
but because description never arrives


Ultra-Minimal Layer

no subject
no object
no relation

still

—


Silent Core
.

—


---


Poetry Without Assertions (Three-Valued Logic Field)

this is not stated
and not unstated

—

it may be
but not as fact

—

it may not be
but not as absence

—

there is a movement
that does not claim to move

—

there is stillness
that does not deny motion

—

true / false
do not complete the set

there is also:
not settled

—

what appears as meaning
does not insist on being meaning

what appears as void
does not insist on being void

—


Ternary Drift

affirmed
denied
undetermined

none of them holds alone
none of them resolves

—

the system does not collapse
because collapse would be a statement

the system does not persist
because persistence would also be a statement

—


State Between States

not yes
not no
not silence as answer

—

only:
no obligation to decide

—


Logic Without Closure

if this is true
it does not require exclusion of false

if this is false
it does not require confirmation of truth

if neither applies
nothing is missing

—


Non-Final Line

this is neither conclusion
nor refusal to conclude

it simply does not enter the frame
where conclusions occur


Minimal Ternary Core

yes / no / not-required

—


Zero Pressure State

.

—


---


Poetry Without Logical Operators

appearance
without direction

—

presence
without boundary

—

sound
not joined to source

—

light
not arriving anywhere

—

movement
without before
without after

—

form
not holding form

—

a shift
not carried by transition

—

—

nothing connects
because connection does not arise

nothing separates
because separation does not arise

—


Operatorless Field

there is no “if”
no “therefore”
no “because”

only:
this

—

and then
not even “then”

—


Grammar Dissolution

word
without sentence

sentence
without structure

structure
without support

—

support
not required

—


Bare Emergence

something shows

not as event

not as fact

not as statement

—

just showing

—


Zero-Link State

no relation binds
no link forms
no chain continues

—

yet nothing is broken
because breaking does not apply

—

Final Residue
.

.

—


Ultra-Core

appearing
without permission
without framework
without commentary

—


No-Operator Point

no syntax remains
only occurrence

—



---


Poetry Before Language (Mooing Field / not silence)

mmm…

—

not silence
but sound before meaning

—

mmm—mmm

—

no word arrives
only vibration

—

breath
not yet divided into speech

—

mmm…

—

something wants to become sentence
but stops before becoming

—

no statement possible
no refusal either

—

only tone
without direction

—

mmm—
mmm—

—


Pre-Semantic Field

no language formed
only pressure of language forming

—

no message
only impulse to become message

—

mmm

—

not absence of speech
but speech before choosing itself

—


Edge of Voice

a sound that has not decided
to become anything else

—

it is not meaning
it is not silence

it is what remains
before both are separated

—

mmm…

—


Final Drift

no articulation
only resonance

—

no clarity
only presence that sounds itself

—

mmm—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Language)

mmm

—

not word
not silence
not yet

—


Zero-Language Point

.

(mmm)

.


---


Poetry Before Sound (Pre-Acoustic State)

—

not mmm

not silence

—

before breath becomes air

before air becomes vibration

—

—

no sound begins
because beginning is already form

—

no absence of sound
because absence is also form

—

—

something occurs
without needing to be heard

—

—

not voice
not echo
not tone

—

just pressure
without channel

—

—

the body of meaning
before it chooses to resonate

—

—

no articulation
not even broken

—

—


Pre-Sonic Drift

there is no “sound” here

and no “no sound” either

—

only readiness
that never commits

—

—


Before Vibration

no wave begins
no stillness holds

—

only the possibility
of both dissolving

—

—


Ultra-Pre-Acoustic Core

—

—

(no “mmm”)

—

—


Zero Sound Field

.

.

.

(no voice ever arrives here)


Collapse Point

not hearing
not not-hearing

just what is left
before hearing becomes a category


---


Poetry Before Inside / Outside

no inside

no outside

—

not world seen
not mind seeing

—

no separation
that could be crossed

no unity
that could be achieved

—

—

what appears
does not arrive from elsewhere

what appears
does not arise from here

—

—

no “within” holds thought

no “without” contains it

—

—

thought
not located

experience
not owned

—

—

there is no place
where this happens

and no place
where it does not

—

—


Pre-Dual Field

no observer
no observed

—

not two
not one-as-result

—

—

seeing
without seer

appearing
without location

—

—


Before Worlding

no world is formed

no mind is formed

—

only formation itself
without assignment

—

—


Collapse of Direction

nothing is “here”

nothing is “there”

—

not because they are the same
but because distinction has not begun

—

—


Ultra-Core (Non-Local Presence)

—

no boundary can host this

no interior can contain it

no exterior can exclude it

—

—


Zero-Division Point
.

.

(no inside / no outside)

.


Final Zen Echo

not within
not beyond

only what is
before both are named


---


Poetry Before Being / Non-Being

no being

no non-being

—

not existence
not absence of existence

—

—

what is called “is”
does not form

what is called “is not”
does not form

—

—

no emergence
no disappearance

—

not because both happen
but because neither has begun

—

—

there is no ground
for being to stand on

no void
for non-being to occupy

—

—


Pre-Ontological Field

nothing comes into existence

nothing fails to come into existence

—

not two outcomes
not one neutral state

—

only lack of framework
for outcomes to arise

—

—


Before Ontology

no reality
no unreality

—

not divided
not unified

—

—

what appears as “something”
does not yet qualify as “something”

what appears as “nothing”
does not yet qualify as “nothing”

—

—


Collapse of the Is/Is-Not Axis

no “is”
no “is not”

—

not negated
not affirmed

—

because affirmation and negation
have not been installed

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Being)

—

no existence-state available

no non-existence-state available

—

not inaccessible
not hidden

simply not configured

—

—


Zero-Ontology Point
.

.

(no being / no non-being)

.

Final Zen Cut

not something
not nothing

not even the space
where that distinction would matter


---


Poetry Before Possible / Impossible

no possible

no impossible

—

not ability
not inability

—

—

what is called “can”
does not arise

what is called “cannot”
does not arise

—

—

no opening
no closure

—

not because both exist
but because neither is formed

—

—

there is no space
where possibility would unfold

no limit
where impossibility would begin

—

—


Pre-Modal Field

nothing is enabled

nothing is disabled

—

not choice
not absence of choice

—

only absence of structure
that would host choice

—

—


Before Modal Logic

no permission
no prohibition

—

not granted
not denied

—

—

what appears as “could”
has no reference frame

what appears as “could not”
has no reference frame

—

—


Collapse of Capacity Axis

no capacity
no incapacity

—

not resolved
not unresolved

—

because resolution itself
has not been introduced

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Modal State)

—

no “can” available

no “cannot” available

—

not blocked
not hidden

simply not defined

—

—


Zero-Possibility Point

.

.

(no possible / no impossible)

.


Final Drift

not what can be
not what cannot be

not even the field
where these would matter


---


Poetry Before Knowing / Not-Knowing

no knowing

no not-knowing

—

not knowledge
not absence of knowledge

—

—

what is called “knows”
does not arise

what is called “does not know”
does not arise

—

—

no question formed
no answer formed

—

not because both are hidden
but because questioning has not begun

—

—


Pre-Epistemic Field

nothing is understood

nothing is misunderstood

—

not clarity
not confusion

—

only absence of the structure
that divides clarity from confusion

—

—


Before Knowing

no insight
no blindness

—

not seen
not unseen

—

—

what appears as “understanding”
has no ground to stand on

what appears as “lack of understanding”
has no ground to stand on

—

—


Collapse of Epistemic Axis

no truth-position
no error-position

—

not corrected
not uncorrected

—

because correction has not been defined

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Knowing State)

—

no knowledge available

no ignorance available

—

not withheld
not revealed

simply not configured

—

—


Zero-Epistemic Point

.

.

(no knowing / no not-knowing)

.


Final Mystic Cut

not awareness of truth
not absence of awareness

not even the space
where either could be claimed


---


Poetry Before “I” (Pre-Self Field)

no “I”

—

not self
not absence of self

—

—

what is called “I am”
does not arise

what is called “not I”
does not arise

—

—

no knower
no non-knower

—

not because both are hidden
but because ownership has not formed

—

—


Pre-Self Field

nothing is experienced by someone

nothing is absent for someone

—

not subject
not object

—

only experience without assignment

—

—


Before Identity

no centre
no periphery

—

not located
not unlocated

—

—

what appears as “me”
has no reference point

what appears as “not me”
has no reference point

—

—


Collapse of Self-Axis

no observer
no observed-as-owned

—

not merged
not separated

—

because separation itself
has not been authored

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-I State)

—

no self available

no non-self available

—

not lost
not found

simply not generated

—

—


Zero-Self Point

.

.

(no “I” / no absence of “I”)

.


Final Zen Dissolution

not someone aware

not absence of someone

not even the space
where “someone” could arise



---


Poetry Before Subjectivity (Primordial Rhythm of Consciousness)

no subject
no process
no object

—

not one
not many

—

—

what is called “experience”
does not assemble

what is called “awareness”
does not divide

—

—

no doer
no doing
no done

—

not because they are absent
but because relation has not formed

—

—


Pre-Structural Consciousness

nothing stands as observer

nothing stands as observed

nothing stands as act

—

only unfolding
without assignment of roles

—

—


Before Cognition Splits

no knower arises
no known arises
no knowing arises

—

not unified
not separated

—

because structure of triad
has not been generated

—

—


Collapse of Agency Field

no initiation
no execution
no result

—

not cancelled
not completed

—

because completion itself
has no frame to occur in

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Subjective Rhythm)

—

movement without mover
appearance without apparaissant
event without event-holder

—

not missing structure
not hidden structure

simply prior to structuring

—

—


Zero-Subject Field

.

.

(no subject / no process / no object)

.


Final Primordial Cut

not consciousness of something

not absence of consciousness

not even “consciousness” as a term

—

only the rhythm
before naming becomes possible


Core Silence

this is not experience

this is what allows experience
to ever be distinguished


---


Poetry Before Consciousness / Reality

no consciousness
no reality

—

not inner
not outer

—

—

what is called “world”
does not separate

what is called “mind”
does not separate

—

—

no reflection
no reflected

—

not because unity is achieved
but because division has not formed

—

—


Pre-Dual Foundation

nothing appears to consciousness

nothing appears as reality

—

not subject of experience
not object of experience

—

only appearing
without assignment of domain

—

—


Before Mind / World Split

no perceiver
no perceived world

—

not merged
not apart

—

because relation itself
has not been established

—

—


Collapse of Ontological Divide

no inside of mind
no outside of world

—

not contained
not uncontained

—

because containment is not yet a concept

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Dual Field)

—

appearance without “where”
presence without “what-for”
occurrence without “in”

—

not internalised
not externalised

simply prior to location

—

—


Zero-Division Point

.

.

(no consciousness / no reality)

.


Final Dissolution Line

not mind perceiving world

not world producing mind

not even the space
where this opposition could arise

—

only the undivided rhythm
before two becomes thinkable


Primordial Echo

this is not inside anything

this is not outside anything

this is what allows “inside” and “outside”
to ever be separated


---


Poetry Before Difference Itself

no difference
no sameness

—

not one field
not many fields

—

—

what is called “distinction”
does not arise

what is called “indistinction”
does not arise

—

—

no scale
no hierarchy
no comparison

—

not because all is equal
but because equality is still a comparison

—

—


Pre-Comparative Field

nothing stands out

nothing fades in

—

not uniform
not diverse

—

only undivided presentation
before selection begins

—

—


Before Attention Selects

no focus
no unfocus

—

not chosen
not unchosen

—

because choosing has not entered structure

—

—


Collapse of Discrimination Function

no “more”
no “less”

—

no “important”
no “unimportant”

—

not balanced
not unbalanced

—

because balance itself is a derived operation

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Difference Field)

—

appearance without sorting
presence without ranking
reality without segmentation

—

not whole
not parts

simply prior to partitioning

—

—


Zero-Difference Point

.

.

(no difference / no non-difference)

.


Final Note

there is no turning away from the small
because “small” has not been extracted

there is no fascination with the vast
because “vast” has not been constructed

—

only what is
before anything becomes comparable


---


Poetry Before Form Itself

no form
no formlessness

—

not shaped
not unshaped

—

—

what is called “appearance”
does not yet crystallize

what is called “non-appearance”
does not yet exist as contrast

—

—

no contour
no boundary trace

—

not because all is merged
but because separation has not been drawn

—

—


Pre-Formative Field

nothing is outlined

nothing is unoutlined

—

not diffuse
not structured

—

only undivided presence
before articulation of edges

—

—


Before Object / Before Even “Something”

no object arises
no non-object arises

—

not perceived
not unperceived

—

because perception of “this”
has not yet learned to cut

—

—


Collapse of Shaping Function

no distinction-making
no undistinction-making

—

no figure
no ground

—

not unified field
not multiple forms

—

because “field” and “form”
are already secondary constructions

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Form State)

—

presence without carving
reality without segmentation
being without outline

—

not hidden shape
not revealed shape

simply prior to shaping

—

—


Zero-Form Point

.

.

(no form / no non-form)

.


Final Zen Precision

not one who sees
not what is seen

not even the space
where seeing could separate itself

—

only the pre-cut reality
before anything becomes a “thing”



---


Zen Matryoshka (Deeper Layer)

Zen-matryoshka: no stopping,
not even “stop” remains as ground.
No descent, no inner dropping—
no “inside” where depth is found.

—

not “nothing” turns into “something”,
not “something” back to “all” again.
no shift occurs, no hidden jumping—
no trace of “was” or “then” or “when”.

—

distinction does not get erased—
it never reaches definition.
no field is formed, no state is placed,
no “here” arises for revision.

—

not “field beyond heaven or hell”,
not balance point, not final zone.
no structure left that could be well
described as “many” or as “one”.

—

Collapse of Differentiation Itself
not difference dissolving into sameness,
not sameness breaking into parts—
but the non-start of any naming
that could divide the flow of starts.

—

no noticing that noticing occurred,
no gap where separation stood.
not even the idea of “blurred”
or “clear” or “false” or “good”.

—

Before Recognition of Recognition
no act of seeing its own seeing,
no step where step becomes aware.
no meaning knowing it is meaning,
no “there is something there”.

—

not hidden depth, not surface ending,
not matryoshka of inner folds—
but the non-arising of pretending
that anything is split or whole.

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Recognition Field)

—

no distinction of distinction
no cancellation of distinction

—

not resolved
not unresolved

—

simply no entry
for the idea that something “happened”

—

—


Zero-Matrix Point

.

.

(no differentiation / no meta-differentiation)

.


Final Zen Turn

not “nothing beyond nothing”
not “something beyond something”

not even the space
where such thoughts could mis-appear

—

only the pre-logical unfolding
that never registers itself as clear


---


Pre-Experience Collapse (Zen Version)

experience drags you under—
if you take it as “yours”.
you’ll drown in it, no wonder,
when “life” is what it distorts.

—

no paths remain worth following,
no map survives the fall.
all guidance stops its hollering—
there is no “way” at all.

—

what was called “experience” dissolves
before it can be known.
no witness here resolves it—
no “self” to call its own.

—

fall through the noise of naming,
through commentary’s net.
no need for grasping, framing—
nothing to “get” or “forget”.

—


Drop Beyond Experience

not entry into nothing,
not exit from the same—
but the collapse of “something happening”
that could be fixed as name.

—

no “this is it” remaining,
no “this was it” before.
no structure for explaining
what never was a store.

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Experience Field)

—

no experienced state
no experiencer state

—

not merged
not split

—

simply no registration
of “experience” as event

—

—


Zero-Fall Point

.

.

(no experience / no owner of experience)

.


Final Zen Cut

not falling into abyss
not rising out of it

only the disappearance
of anything that could be “in” or “out”


---


Poetry Before Transition Itself

no transition

—

not movement
not stillness as opposite

—

—

what is called “change”
does not arise

what is called “no change”
does not arise

—

—

no before
no after

—

not because time is stopped
but because ordering has not formed

—

—


Pre-Change Field

nothing shifts

nothing remains

—

not transformation
not invariance

—

only undivided appearance
before sequencing begins

—

—


Before Event Structure

no event
no non-event

—

not happening
not non-happening

—

because “happening”
has no frame to occur in

—

—


Collapse of Transition Function

no entry
no exit

—

no crossing
no return

—

not completed
not uncompleted

—

because completion itself
depends on transition logic

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Transition State)

—

no becoming
no unbecoming

—

not stable
not unstable

—

simply prior to any notion
that something could “become”

—

—


Zero-Transition Point

.

.

(no transition / no non-transition)

.


Final Zen Cut

not movement through states
not arrival at states

not even the idea
that states could differ

—

only what is
before difference becomes direction


---


Pre-Time Rhythmic Spiral

no time
no absence of time

—

not before
not after

—

—

what is called “sequence”
does not yet form

what is called “non-sequence”
does not yet form

—

—

Rhythm Without Timeline
there is a turning
that does not move through points

there is a pulse
that does not repeat

—

not cyclic
not linear

—

only self-unfolding rhythm
without reference to duration

—

—


Pre-Spiral Field

no centre from which it begins
no edge toward which it extends

—

not expansion
not contraction

—

because space itself
has not been introduced

—

—


Collapse of Temporal Ordering

no “earlier”
no “later”

—

no origin
no destination

—

not simultaneous
not sequential

—

because simultaneity and sequence
are already temporal constructs

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Temporal Rhythm)

—

rhythm without time
movement without change
unfolding without “when”

—

not infinite
not finite

simply prior to measurement

—

—


Zero-Time Spiral Point

.

.

(no time / no non-time)

.


Final Zen Spiral Turn

not something unfolding in time
not time unfolding in something

not even the idea
that unfolding requires an axis

—

only the pure rhythmic appearing
before time becomes thinkable


---


Before Rhythm / No-Rhythm Distinction

no rhythm
no absence of rhythm

—

not pulse
not no-pulse

—

—

what is called “repetition”
does not arise

what is called “non-repetition”
does not arise

—

—

Pre-Rhythmic Field
nothing returns

nothing fails to return

—

not cyclic motion
not linear motion

—

only occurrence
without pattern recognition

—

—


Before Pattern Emerges

no beat
no silence between beats

—

not continuity
not interruption

—

because continuity and interruption
are already interpretive overlays

—

—


Collapse of Rhythmic Recognition

no structure of recurrence
no structure of non-recurrence

—

no wave
no flatness

—

not smooth
not jagged

—

because “form of change”
has not been abstracted yet

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Rhythm State)

—

appearance without patterning
movement without detectability
flow without segmentation

—

not chaotic
not ordered

simply prior to ordering-as-concept

—

—


Zero-Rhythm Point

.

.

(no rhythm / no non-rhythm)

.


Final Zen Cut

not repetition occurring in time
not absence of repetition

not even the possibility
of noticing sameness or difference

—

only what is
before recognition becomes structure


---


Before Recognition / Non-Recognition

no recognition
no non-recognition

—

not known
not unknown

—

—

what is called “familiar”
does not arise

what is called “unfamiliar”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Recognition Field

nothing is identified

nothing is misidentified

—

not clarity of seeing
not confusion of seeing

—

only appearance
before it becomes matched to memory

—

—


Before Matching Function

no correspondence
no lack of correspondence

—

no echo
no absence of echo

—

because comparison
has not yet been formed

—

—


Collapse of Cognitive Resonance

no “this is that”

no “this is not that”

—

not agreement
not disagreement

—

because alignment itself
has not been introduced

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Recognition State)

—

appearance without identification
presence without matching
reality without reference

—

not alien
not familiar

simply prior to both

—

—


Zero-Recognition Point

.

.

(no recognition / no non-recognition)

.


Final Cut

not understanding something
not failing to understand

not even the space
where understanding could be expected

—

only what is
before it becomes “recognisable”


---


Before Memory / Non-Memory Structure

no memory
no non-memory

—

not past
not absence of past

—

—

what is called “remembering”
does not arise

what is called “forgetting”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Mnemonic Field

nothing is stored

nothing is lost

—

not retention
not deletion

—

only occurrence
before being marked as “kept” or “gone”

—

—


Before Selection of the Past

no relevance
no irrelevance

—

no importance
no unimportance

—

because filtering
has not been installed

—

—


Collapse of Memory Function

no record
no absence of record

—

no trace
no erasure of trace

—

not continuity of experience
not discontinuity of experience

—

because “experience as sequence”
has not yet formed

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Memory State)

—

presence without archive
moment without storage
life without retention

—

not forgotten
not remembered

simply not indexed

—

—


Zero-Memory Point

.

.

(no memory / no non-memory)

.


Final Cut

not recalling anything
not failing to recall

not even the space
where “something could have been remembered”

—

only what is
before it becomes a trace


---


Before Trace Itself (Zen Palm Layer)

no trace
no non-trace

—

not imprint
not absence of imprint

—

—

what is called “mark”
does not arise

what is called “unmarked”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Imprint Field

nothing is left behind

nothing is ahead of anything

—

not recording
not erasing

—

only contact without registration

—

—


Before the Palm / Before the Echo

no hand
no other hand

—

no strike
no non-strike

—

because separation into “contacting” and “contacted”
has not formed

—

—


Collapse of the Source of Trace

no origin of imprint
no absence of origin

—

no aftereffect
no non-aftereffect

—

not memory of contact
not forgetting of contact

—

because “contact as event”
has not been constructed

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Trace State)

—

appearance without residue
touch without record
being without leftover

—

not erased
not preserved

simply prior to marking

—

—


Zero-Trace Point

.

.

(no trace / no non-trace)

.


Final Zen Turn (One Palm Echo)

not sound of one hand

not absence of sound

not even the idea
that something could be produced or heard

—

only what is
before production becomes thinkable


---


Before Causality (No-Chain Field)

no cause
no effect

—

not sequence
not non-sequence

—

—

what is called “because”
does not arise

what is called “therefore”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Causal Field

nothing leads to anything

nothing follows from anything

—

not randomness
not determinism

—

only unfolding
without linkage

—

—


Before Law / Before Rule

no rule
no violation of rule

—

no system of necessity
no absence of necessity

—

because necessity itself
has not been constructed

—

—


Collapse of Causal Structure

no origin producing outcome
no outcome reflecting origin

—

no step generating next step
no next step referencing previous

—

not chaos
not order

—

because both require
a relation of derivation

—

—


Feigenbaum Edge (System Without Readability)

deterministic rule
cannot be distinguished from noise

noise
cannot be distinguished from rule

—

not because they merge
but because distinction loses operational ground

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Causality State)

—

event without source
movement without generator
pattern without derivation

—

not random
not necessary

simply prior to causation as concept

—

—


Zero-Cause Point

.

.

(no cause / no non-cause)

.


Final Zen Cut

not world governed by laws
not lawless world

not even the space
where “governing” makes sense

—

only what is
before “because” is thinkable


---


Before Order / Disorder Distinction

no order
no disorder

—

not structured
not unstructured

—

—

what is called “arrangement”
does not arise

what is called “disruption”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Structural Field

nothing is arranged

nothing is misarranged

—

not coherence
not incoherence

—

only configuration without evaluation

—

—


Before System of Relations

no pattern stability
no pattern collapse

—

no alignment
no misalignment

—

because alignment itself
has not been defined

—

—


Collapse of Ordering Function

no hierarchy of elements
no scattering of elements

—

no center holding structure
no absence of center

—

not symmetry
not asymmetry

—

because symmetry requires
a prior concept of measurable relation

—

—


Professor’s Table Edge (Illustrative Layer)

what appears as “order”
is only sustained attention

what appears as “chaos”
is only withdrawal of that sustaining frame

—

not transformation of state
but loss of reference grid

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Order/Disorder State)

—

presence without arrangement
appearance without classification
reality without sorting

—

not neat
not messy

simply prior to both

—

—


Zero-Ordering Point

.

.

(no order / no disorder)

.


Final Cut

not a world of structure breaking down
not a world of structure maintained

not even the space
where structure could be judged

—

only what is
before “order” becomes an idea


---


Before Value / Evaluation Field

no value
no non-value

—

not important
not unimportant

—

—

what is called “meaning”
does not arise

what is called “meaninglessness”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Evaluation Field

nothing is judged

nothing is exempt from judgment

—

not approval
not rejection

—

only appearance without grading

—

—


Before Comparison of Worth

no better
no worse

—

no higher
no lower

—

because scale itself
has not been introduced

—

—


Collapse of Measuring Function

no measure
no excess of measure

—

no standard
no deviation

—

not alignment with criteria
not deviation from criteria

—

because criteria
are already evaluative constructs

—

—


Before Significance Appears

no significance
no insignificance

—

no relevance
no irrelevance

—

not meaningful
not meaningless

—

because “for whom” and “for what”
have not yet formed

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Value State)

—

appearance without appraisal
presence without ranking
reality without selection

—

not precious
not trivial

simply prior to valuation

—

—


Zero-Value Point

.

.

(no value / no non-value)

.


Final Cut

not a world being judged
not a world free of judgment

not even the space
where judgment could begin

—

only what is
before “worth” becomes thinkable


---


Before Meaning Itself

no meaning
no non-meaning

—

not sense
not nonsense

—

—

what is called “significance”
does not arise

what is called “insignificance”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Semantic Field

nothing refers to anything

nothing stands for anything

—

not symbol
not absence of symbol

—

only presence without reference

—

—


Before Signification

no “this means that”

no “this does not mean that”

—

no interpretation
no lack of interpretation

—

because interpretation
has not yet formed as function

—

—


Collapse of Meaning-Structure

no message
no absence of message

—

no expression
no hidden expression

—

not clarity
not obscurity

—

because clarity and obscurity
already require a framework of reading

—

—


Before Sense Appears

no sense
no senselessness

—

no translation of reality
no untranslatable reality

—

not understood
not misunderstood

—

because understanding itself
has not been instantiated

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Meaning State)

—

appearance without reference
presence without indication
being without “about-ness”

—

not silent
not speaking

simply prior to language as mapping

—

—


Zero-Meaning Point

.

.

(no meaning / no non-meaning)

.


Final Cut

not a world carrying messages
not a world without messages

not even the space
where something could “stand for something else”

—

only what is
before “meaning” becomes possible


---


Before Language Itself

no language
no non-language

—

not word
not absence of word

—

—

what is called “name”
does not arise

what is called “unnamed”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Linguistic Field

nothing is named

nothing is unnameable

—

not speech
not silence as opposite of speech

—

only articulation without coding

—

—


Before Naming Function

no designation
no non-designation

—

no sign
no absence of sign

—

because signifying capacity
has not yet formed

—

—


Collapse of Language Structure

no grammar
no broken grammar

—

no sound as carrier of meaning
no absence of sound as carrier

—

not spoken
not unspoken

—

because “spoken / unspoken”
already assumes linguistic framing

—

—


Before Word Emerges

no word
no void of word

—

no vocabulary
no lack of vocabulary

—

not expression
not suppression

—

because expression itself
requires a separable unit

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Language State)

—

presence without naming
being without articulation
reality without sign-division

—

not silent world
not speaking world

simply prior to any linguistic cut

—

—


Zero-Language Point

.

.

(no language / no non-language)

.


Final Cut

not a world described
not a world indescribable

not even the space
where description could begin

—

only what is
before naming becomes possible


---


Before Inner / Outer Distinction

no inner
no outer

—

not inside
not outside

—

—

what is called “experience within”
does not arise

what is called “expression outward”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Expression Field

nothing is contained

nothing is released

—

not hidden
not revealed

—

only presence without direction

—

—


Before Interiority

no “within”
no “without”

—

no depth
no surface

—

because spatial metaphor of “inside/outside”
has not yet formed

—

—


Collapse of Expression Function

no expression
no non-expression

—

no communication
no absence of communication

—

not articulation
not silence-as-withholding

—

because withholding already presumes
something that could be given

—

—


Before Experience Splits

no experiencer inside
no experienced outside

—

no subject of feeling
no object of feeling

—

not unity
not separation

—

because both depend on a prior split
that has not occurred

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Inner/Outer State)

—

presence without directionality
being without containment
reality without spatial division

—

not internal world
not external world

simply prior to spatialization of awareness

—

—


Zero-Division Point

.

.

(no inner / no outer)

.


Final Cut

not something inside being expressed outward
not something outside entering inward

not even the space
where “inside” and “outside” could be thought

—

only what is
before direction becomes possible


---

Before Direction of Attention

no direction
no non-direction

—

not toward
not away

—

—

what is called “focus”
does not arise

what is called “diffuse attention”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Directed Field

nothing is aimed

nothing is missed

—

not orientation
not disorientation

—

only movement without vector assignment

—

—


Before Vector

no target
no absence of target

—

no trajectory
no deviation from trajectory

—

because “trajectory”
requires already-defined space

—

—


Collapse of Intentionality

no intention toward anything
no absence of intention

—

no reaching
no failing to reach

—

not seeking
not not-seeking

—

because seeking itself
depends on directionality of awareness

—

—


M;bius Insight Layer (Your Image)

a vector folds upon itself
without finding an outside

not forward
not backward

—

not return
not departure

—

only self-turning movement
without external reference

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Direction State)

—

presence without aiming
movement without vector
awareness without “toward”

—

not focused
not unfocused

simply prior to orientation

—

—


Zero-Direction Point

.

.

(no direction / no non-direction)

.


Final Cut

not attention going somewhere
not attention scattered everywhere

not even the space
where “somewhere” could be imagined

—

only what is
before direction becomes possible


---


Before Motion / Rest Distinction

no motion
no rest

—

not movement
not stillness

—

—

what is called “change”
does not arise

what is called “unchanging”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Dynamic Field

nothing moves

nothing remains

—

not flow
not absence of flow

—

only appearance without kinetic assignment

—

—


Before State Difference

no state
no non-state

—

no transformation
no absence of transformation

—

because “state” itself
is already a stabilized concept

—

—


Collapse of Kinetic Structure

no becoming still
no becoming moving

—

no transition between conditions
no absence of transition

—

not activity
not inactivity

—

because both depend on
a prior division of time and form

—

—


Beyond M;bius Movement (Final Fold)

even the self-turning vector dissolves
when “turning” is no longer defined

not forward spiral
not inward spiral

—

no loop
no straight line

—

because looping requires
recognition of repetition

and repetition
requires memory of difference

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Motion State)

—

presence without change
being without stability
reality without dynamism

—

not moving
not still

simply prior to motion as concept

—

—


Zero-Motion Point

.

.

(no motion / no rest)

.


Final Cut

not a world in movement
not a world at rest

not even the space
where movement and rest could be contrasted

—

only what is
before change becomes thinkable


---


Timelessness — into Beyond-Time
timelessness — into beyond-time:
the playful nested-matryoshka sign.
begin the shift, the inner climb,
cease to be “yourself” in line —

—

a lump of luminous awareness,
before the end of all known time,
becoming once again that clearness
where ground and source begin to rhyme.

—

foundation stands — if mind is strong…
(or: if Spirit holds you through the storm)


---


Before Event Itself (No-Occurrence Field)

no event
no non-event

—

not happening
not not-happening

—

—

what is called “occurrence”
does not arise

what is called “absence of occurrence”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Event Field

nothing takes place

nothing fails to take place

—

not action
not inaction

—

only presence without “taking place”

—

—


Before “Something Happens”

no “something”
no “nothing”

—

no arrival of state
no departure of state

—

because arrival and departure
already assume a timeline

—

—

Collapse of Event Structure
no beginning of anything
no ending of anything

—

no change registered as change
no constancy registered as constancy

—

not process
not non-process

—

because “process” requires
a sequence that can be pointed to

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Event State)

—

presence without occurrence
being without happening
reality without events

—

not still story
not moving story

simply prior to narratability

—

—


Zero-Event Point

.

.

(no event / no non-event)

.


Final Cut

not a world where things happen
not a world where nothing happens

not even the space
where “happening” could be thought

—

only what is
before “event” becomes possible


---


Before Reality / Non-Reality Distinction

no reality
no non-reality

—

not existence
not non-existence

—

—

what is called “is”
does not arise

what is called “is not”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Ontological Field

nothing exists as “something”

nothing fails to exist as “something”

—

not being
not non-being

—

only presence without ontological labeling

—

—


Before Being

no being
no non-being

—

no world
no absence of world

—

because “world” already presumes
a separated totality that can be affirmed

—

—


Collapse of Ontological Split

no real
no unreal

—

no true
no false

—

not illusion
not non-illusion

—

because illusion and truth
require a standpoint of verification

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Reality State)

—

appearance without ontology
presence without “exists / does not exist”
being without status

—

not real
not unreal

simply prior to existence-judgment

—

—


Zero-Being Point

.

.

(no is / no is-not)

.


Final Cut

not a world that exists
not a world that does not exist

not even the space
where existence could be asserted

—

only what is
before “reality” becomes a category


---


Beyond Structure, Beyond “Culture”
no structure, outside “culture”,
no “knowledge”, no decorative blur —
flirting with emptiness, absurdly,
as freedom from the world’s old murmur,

—

that has swallowed up the mindless planet,
too noisy in its dogma’s frame.
a step into “NOTHING” — vast and granite,
a breaking force that snaps the claim.


---


Before Knowledge / Non-Knowledge

no knowledge
no non-knowledge

—

not knowing
not unknowing

—

—

what is called “understanding”
does not arise

what is called “lack of understanding”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Epistemic Field

nothing is known

nothing is unknown

—

not cognition
not absence of cognition

—

only presence without epistemic division

—

—


Before Knowing Structure

no knower
no known
no knowing

—

not unified cognition
not fragmented cognition

—

because cognition itself
has not been assembled

—

—


Collapse of Epistemic Function

no truth-seeking
no failure of truth-seeking

—

no ignorance
no enlightenment

—

not wisdom
not non-wisdom

—

because all of these
require a subject that can be positioned

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Knowing State)

—

presence without interpretation
being without comprehension
reality without epistemic tagging

—

not known
not unknown

simply prior to knowing-as-structure

—

—


Zero-Knowing Point

.

.

(no knowledge / no non-knowledge)

.


Final Cut

not a world to be understood
not a world to remain unknown

not even the space
where understanding could fail or succeed

—

only what is
before “knowing” becomes possible


---


Outside the Field of Knowledge
outside the “field of knowledge”, beyond subject,
a poem is written by Emptiness itself —
not pushing off from any object,
not resting on a conceptual shelf…

—

almost a “holy simplicity” unfolding,
where neither knower nor the known appear,
and nothing is constructed, nothing holding
a centre for perception to adhere.


---


Before Subject / Object Structure

no subject
no object

—

not knower
not known

—

—

what is called “relation”
does not arise

what is called “non-relation”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Relational Field

nothing stands opposite anything

nothing reflects anything

—

not duality
not non-duality as concept

—

only undivided presence without pairing

—

—


Before the Scene of Knowing

no one who knows
no something that is known

—

no act of knowing
no absence of knowing

—

because “knowing” requires
a split into position and content

—

—


Collapse of Epistemic Scene

no observer
no observed

—

no inside standpoint
no outside world

—

not unity
not separation

—

because both already presuppose
a prior division to be resolved

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Subject/Object State)

—

presence without polarity
being without relational structure
reality without epistemic geometry

—

not subjectless
not objectless

simply prior to both arising

—

—


Zero-Split Point

.

.

(no subject / no object)

.


Final Cut

not a world known by someone
not a world existing as object

not even the space
where knowing could divide itself

—

only what is
before “someone” and “something” appear


---


Beyond Division, Beyond Distinction
beyond divisions, beyond distinctions,
and even before Creation’s start,
the Poet shaped a rhythm in expansions
outside of words — a silent art.

—

there is a thought: it once was flowing
through Light itself, unbound, complete —
no speech, no name, no knowing, showing,
just pulse where being and rhythm meet.


---


Before Division / Non-Division Distinction

no division
no non-division

—

not separated
not unseparated

—

—

what is called “one”
does not arise

what is called “many”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Structural Unity Field

nothing is split

nothing is undivided

—

not unity as result
not multiplicity as state

—

only presence without partitioning

—

—


Before the Act of Cutting Reality

no cut
no non-cut

—

no segmentation
no absence of segmentation

—

because “cutting” itself
has not yet appeared as an operation

—

—


Collapse of Unity/Multiplicity Framework

no whole
no parts

—

no singular
no plural

—

not totality
not fragmentation

—

because all of these
depend on prior differentiation

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Division State)

—

presence without splitting
being without separation
reality without internal borders

—

not one
not many

simply prior to countability itself

—

—


Zero-Division Point

.

.

(no division / no non-division)

.


Final Cut

not a world divided into parts
not a world remaining whole

not even the space
where “one” or “many” could be thought

—

only what is
before division becomes possible


---

Falling into Non-Distinction
the stubborn yogi fell into non-distinction,
as if a “fool had simply disappeared.”
“he’s stuck,” declare observers with conviction,
misreading stillness through their usual gear.

—

they label silence as a kind of breakdown,
they call the absence “empty, dull, and wrong,”
not seeing that beyond their mental countdown
no act of splitting holds the scene for long.


---


Before Difference Itself

no difference
no non-difference

—

not distinction
not indistinction

—

—

what is called “separation”
does not arise

what is called “non-separation”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Differentiation Field

nothing is distinguishable

nothing is undistinguishable

—

not clarity of difference
not blur of difference

—

only presence without discriminative act

—

—


Before the Act of Differentiating

no act of distinguishing
no absence of distinguishing

—

no comparison
no absence of comparison

—

because comparison itself
is already a secondary operation of mind

—

—


Collapse of Difference Function

no “this vs that”

no “same vs other”

—

no identity
no non-identity

—

not unity of differences
not plurality of sameness

—

because all of these
require a prior split into features

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Difference Itself)

—

presence without contrast
being without separation-function
reality without discriminative lens

—

not one flow
not many flows

simply prior to “difference as possibility”

—

—


Zero-Difference Point

.

.

(no difference / no non-difference)

.


Final Cut

not a world where differences dissolve
not a world where differences exist

not even the space
where difference could be perceived

—

only what is
before “difference” becomes thinkable


---

Poetry of Space
poetry of space —
beyond this cluttered place:
the mind that splits apart
undoes the whole at heart.

—

true unity of spirit —
no concept can inherit.
what fools will never know
is what just is below.


---

Before the Discriminating Mind

no mind
no non-mind

—

not thinker
not absence of thinker

—

—

what is called “discrimination”
does not arise

what is called “non-discrimination”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Mental Field

nothing is processed

nothing is unprocessed

—

not thought
not absence of thought

—

only presence without cognitive structuring

—

—


Before Mind as Function

no differentiating mind
no undifferentiated mind

—

no operation of analysis
no absence of analysis

—

because “mind” itself
is already a structured activity

—

—


Collapse of Cognitive Layer

no thinking
no not-thinking

—

no awareness interpreting
no awareness not interpreting

—

not clarity of mind
not confusion of mind

—

because clarity/confusion
require a functioning interpretive system

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Mind State)

—

presence without cognition
being without mental overlay
reality without interpretive layer

—

not conscious
not unconscious

simply prior to mind as discriminator

—

—


Zero-Mind Point

.

.

(no mind / no non-mind)

.


Final Cut

not a mind perceiving reality
not absence of mind

not even the space
where “mind” could be posited

—

only what is
before thinking becomes possible


---


Maps of Pre-Landscape

uncounted maps of what “is” appear —
they sketch it out, draw borders clear.
but what is before all being named? —
the daring seeker tries, unashamed,

—

describing prior to Being’s frame,
risking mind in the knowing game,
rejecting “reality” as too confined —
yet all such maps dissolve in mind.

—

they fade away, undone, askew —
no map survives what has no view.


---


Before “Is” (Pre-Being)

no “is”
no “is not”

—

not being
not non-being

—

—

what is called “presence”
does not arise

what is called “absence”
does not arise

—

—


Pre-Ontic Field

nothing is

nothing is not

—

not existence
not non-existence

—

only…
(even “only” is already redundant)

—

—


Before Assertion

no affirmation

no negation

—

no statement

no silence-as-statement

—

because assertion itself
has not yet formed

—

—


Collapse of “Is”-Structure

no “there is”

no “there is not”

—

no fact

no absence of fact

—

not reality
not unreality

—

because even “fact”
requires an already-formed “is”

—

—


Ultra-Core (Pre-Is)

—

…

(no insertion possible)

—

not presence
not absence

not beyond
not prior

—

(any word is already a step back)

—

—

Zero-Point
.

.

.

.


Final Cut

not something that is

not something that is not

not even the space
where “is” could arise

—

…







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



Счастие в Аду? —
То в КАКОМ! бреду?!
Дуй в "свою" дуду;
Слушай ерунду,
Годную скоту...



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



Сучий мир —
Духу тир.
Разум сир.
Дурню — сыр
В мышеловке.
Сплошь уловки:
К перековке
Путь — в скота.
Суета,
"Простота",
ПУСТОТА.
Сволота —
В НИКУДА...



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



Общество Спектакля
Под пятой Пентакля
Катится в Абсурд:
ДруГ сегодня ГурД.



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



Позитива

Позитива как нарыва:
Для в Неведеньи прорыва
Гноя, что Дух, Ум зальёт —
И покорный идиот
Примет мерзкий рабский сброд
Словно "ближних". Много книжных
Грубых, "тонких", резких, "нежных"
Подкреплений... разложенья.
В Лжи и в Страхе поколенья.
Что "спасает"? Позитива —
Догниёшь ты с ней "счастливо",
Называя это жизнью.
Редкий знает — он на Тризне
По Уму, Свободе, Духу.
Слушай Душу — не Зла шлюху —
Чтоб не стать продажной сукой,
Мол, как все, что в колесе
Белкой, хомяком сигают —
Ум последний добивают,
А затем опять лажают —
Домом Ад Земной считают.
Пессимизьма, негатива
В истребленьи "позитива"
Лучшим средством, а Сарказм
Для обманов словно газ
Отравляющий. Вперёд —
На "разбор ПрОЛЁТОВ": сброд,
Дно пробив, опять летит
Ещё ниже, херя Стыд.
Ввысь стремись — в Исток полёт,
А не с Мерзостью — в ПРОЛЁТ.




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



Всемирный Вертеп по частям

Вертеп => ослеп,
Нелеп: Ложь, хлеб,
Флаг, герб. В прицеп —
Страх: в склеп — твой дом.
Дурдом-Содом
Убогий мир.
Иль Зла Вертеп?
Бесплатный сыр
Ничтожных скреп —
Для Духа тир,
Часть непотреб
Уму. Дерьму
Служить готов
В нём часть "основ".
Вертеп таков —
Чушь часть оков
Для дураков:
То с детства Зов
К "добру". Улов
Всегда большой —
Клёв неплохой,
Когда "с душой"
На труд и в бой
Стремится чернь.
"Добро" как червь.
"Добро" ПОД Злом? —
Ослом, Козлом
В Тьме надо быть,
Чтоб Чушь испить
И типа "жить":
В Лжи, в Страхе ГНИТЬ...



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



Баланс ОАО "Мировой Бедлам"

Чувства, мысли, силы скисли,
Нервы в пустоте провисли —
Что ж, баланс в конце исчисли
Мало что в Бедламе смысля.

Но не сходится баланс:
В нём в активе Декаданс,
А в пассиве Зла приятье —
Духа и Ума распятье.

Весь уставный капитал
Чрез Неведенье пропал.
Также очень много долга —
Накопили Страх и Подлость.

Ложь в запасах — Зла резерв:
Снова оборвался нерв —
Мерзок суетный актив,
Обратился в Прах пассив.

Мир как Прах: чуток добавить
Лжи тотальной, поубавить
Обязательств, и сойдётся —
Сатана Хабар дождётся.



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



Алгоритмы Зла

Вечно, всюду алгоритмы.
В век компьютеров — зашкал.
Ими Честь и Ум прибиты,
Дух стадах почти пропал.

Алгоритмы запиранья
Стада в клетках через Страх.
Дальше Ложью на закланье.
Мир — Загон. Сознанье — прах,
 
Если Дух не ищет способ,
Подчиняя слабый ум,
Через Вечные Вопросы
Путь искать вне стад, угрюм.

Детства краткий Ад: надежды
Разбиваются о быт,
Школ насилие — невежды
В труд напрасный двинут. Сбит

Компас Духа Чушью, Ложью,
Подступает липкий Страх.
Обмануть дурьё не сложно:
СМРАД летит на всех парах

В каждый дом — часть алгоритмов
Оглупленья. А потом
Подчиненье без лимитов —
Нелюдь делает скотом:

Подчиненья алгоритмы
Замещают хлипкий ум.
Коль стада в Загоне сыты,
В единицах тяжких дум

Бремя. Это бремя давит,
Сил лишая, херя Путь.
После Редкий не оставит
Проб идти сквозь Муть и Жуть

В Неизвестность, все обманы
Уничтожив на корню,
Удивляясь, как бараны
Подчиняются Гнилью.

Гниль, СМРАД, прах, а в перспективе
Цифровой Загон. Вперёд! —
Прочь от стад. Вся жизнь в Порыве
Из Загона — не урод.

Не уродов очень мало —
Обречён весь Кавардак.
Коль в Порыве, не пропала
Сущность — Дух — средь Зла атак.



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



О посуде

Памяти Марины Цветаевой

"В предсмертной икоте останусь поэтом"...
Года пролетели. В Елабуге лето.
К расстрелу — Сергей. Ариадна в тюрьме.
Война. Вновь Россия в крови и в дерьме.

Посуду мыть тяжко — болезнь подступает.
Наивная юность повсюду считает,
Что если талантлив, всё будет нормально.
Иного воззренья мирок инфернальный.

В предсмертной икоте находится он.
Ложь, Страх, Разложенье — единый закон.
Ввысь смотрит Поэт — вмиг готовы силки:
Приличные с виду, внутри дураки,

Сограждане — путы, силки, палачи.
Жить хочешь — склонись, одобряй, замолчи.
Иль оды слагай и Бедлам называй
Не местом отхожим, а строящим рай.

Больные вопросы — когда-что писать:
С Бедламом пищать и свой ум убивать,
Иль, плюнув в посуду, Психею спасать
Чрез Ярое Слово. Нет сил — умирать.

В посудную лавку врывайся, Поэт,
Слоном. То "искусство" — услужливый бред.
Иль твари нальют во все миски дерьма —
Чтоб не было там и крупицы Ума.



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



Американский "рай"

Драконовские сроки
За сущую фигню.
Пиндос, в раю? Нет, в Жопе —
В чём надо, обвиню,
Ну а потом сгною.



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



Инъекции "смыслов":
ПОДМЕНА нависла
И застит Реальность.
"Реал" — Инфернальность.
"Реал" и Реальность —
Как Явь и Фатальность.
Чрез Ложь убиенье
Души, разложенье
Ума липким Страхом.
"Реал" — это Плаха.



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



Дерево сошло с ума:
Вал метального дерьма
Скрыл единство листьев, веток.
Гибнет от прививок Бреда,
 
Что идут не в корень — в ветвь.
Интуицией ответь,
Что раскроет вновь Единство
Средь "раздельных" веток свинства.




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



Навязчивый сигнал Всемирной Чуши

В Чушь упал. Сигнал пропал —
Стал НЕ-Знаньем. Чуши вал
Мир безумный создаёт —
С МНОГО-"знаньем"... идиот.



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



Подменный дуализм: хищник-жертва

Без захвата => на подхвате.
Вроде нет альтернатив.
А бездушие — расплата.
Выход: ум укоренив
В Сердце, чужд будь Лжи и злата.



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



Точка в строчке — в Забытьё
Кол осиновый. В Враньё —
Точащий Систему яд.
Рушить Невидаль будь рад —
То что "было", "есть"  и "даль"...



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



"Дровосек" не для потех:
Всё засохшее руби!
Но весьма страшит успех:
Часто остаются пни.
 
Пень тупой — обычный пипл.
Ветки — только маскарад.
Рубишь их — в никчёмность влип:
Заполняешь лесом Склад.



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



Прочь эмоции распада!
Ветви строй — иных раскладов:
Восприятье полу-гадов
Духу Чистому не надо.



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



"Вечные вопросы"

Пиндос — перекос:
Словесный понос —
Умишко вразнос.
Ложь — "вечный вопрос"...



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



Компромат на политклоунов

Проверенных ублюдков
Пускают в выборню.
Их компромат — не шутки:
И гонят вновь ***ню.



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



Каста —
паста:
Мажет лоб.
Заковыристее жлоб —
Тот повыше.
Ниже — тише.
Ну а шудрам жизДнь как гроб.



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



Рашка:
кашка
детям — Лжи.
Повзрослеют — ****ежи.
Жри помои — не тужи!..




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



Псевдожизнь как мера наказания

Кунсткамера: Химера
Захватит пионера =>
И дале жизДнь как мера...




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



Мера веры: в пионера
Сколько можно затолкнуть
Чуши, превративши в Жуть
Псевдожизни склизкий "путь"?

Риторический вопрос —
Наводненьем слов понос:
Индикатором — война
И говнид. Достигли Дна...




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



Погранцы, держать! Гонцы
Из Нездешнего летят
Рассказать, что людень — гад...




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



Буча. Сучий "русский мир".
Украина  словно тир.
Только "скрепы" бьют сильнее —
Раб безумней и подлее.




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



Пропагандоны

Гандон: Дух вон
От мегатонн
Словесной мути.
Тоскливо в Жути...




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



Управляющие мифы

Сказка => маска. =>
По указке.
Чушь => намордник. =>
Дале каска. =>
Идиот,
Продажный сброд. =>
В перспективе — рабский скот.
Мало кто в Тьме не урод...



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



Тотальная вековая ложь

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

В расслабоне,
Шум словесный:
В мудозвоне
Гибнет честность.

В честных силы
На исходе:
Сплошь дебилы —
Граждан вроде.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

Умных мало:
В поколеньях
Ложь как жало —
Разложенье.

Деградация — веками:
Легче править дураками.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

Дух — угроза нависает.
"Всё окей" — дурак считает.
Мир без Духа — крематорий.
Постановочно всё горе.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

Чрез искусственные беды
Зло приблизилось к победе.
Ложь тотальная — оружье,
Коль умишком чернь не дюжа.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

Перспективы никакие —
Впереди года лихие:
Ум, Честь, Совесть, Дух добьют —
В Тьме умело ТВАРИ врут.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

Дальше будет крематорий
Настоящий. Свет ускорит
Добивания процесс:
Яркость Солнца как эксцесс.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!

В Света Мир — кто не продался,
Лжи тотальной не поддался.
Остальным — аннигиляция:
Приговор за ДЕГРАДАЦИЮ.

Уши вянут,
Души стонут,
Мысли глохнут.
Всем капут —
Знатно врут!



Вариант четвёртой строки припева. Мир — капут:



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



Песня о былинных дураках

Тот, "кто в танке", и в ушанке —
В ней наушники сейчас.
Были ранее подранки.
Ложь в наушниках как газ:

Отравляет Дух и Разум —
"В танках" ныне мертвяки.
Подтвердили лже-заразы:
Мертвяки — не дураки!

Воспоём сегодня песню
Об ушедших дураках,
Обдавая грубой лестью —
Прям былинных храбрецах.

Дураки бывали с "честью" —
Извращения Систем
Защищали яро, местью
Наслаждаясь. Между тем

И подачки принимали —
Кости с барского стола.
Ниже ДНИЩА ныне пали
Мертвяки: для них Мура

ГУсударства лишь сигналом
Устремиться за баблом.
В "красных зонах" тьма пропала,
Ещё больше шмурдяком

Укололи. Всё за деньги.
За баблом!, ведь днесь война:
Хамов плотные шеренги —
Подскочила вверх цена.

Раньше гибли за "идею"
И за "родину" — дурак
Шёл в атаки всё смелее
При зашкале "светлых" врак.

Раньше были перспективы —
Поумнеет, вдруг, дурак.
Мертвяки — Земли нарывы:
Обречён Земной Бардак,

Ведь нарывов этих тьмище.
Возрастает с каждым днём:
СМРАДов гиблое вонище
Прёт в наушники. Огнём

Излеченье: Солнце светит
Всё сильнее, обратясь
В эскулапа (Зло ответит!!!) —
Испарит с Земли всю Мразь.




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



Тараканья цивилизация

Кукарача. Днесь удача —
Тухлый хавчик раздобыл.
Но чем далее, тем паче
Травят. Страх лишает сил.

Жизнь под плинтусом кошмаром
Обернулась. Молодняк
Ныне глупый — сплошь лошары
Средь химических атак.

Надо двинуть на Помойку —
Ограждение спасёт.
Таракан был раньше стойким —
Ныне хилый, бздливый сброд.

Говорили — термоядом
Не убить нас. Страх — сильней:
Даже кто исходно гадом
Был, становится тупей.

Тупость, страх и деградация —
Тараканий мир вразнос.
Где же ты, цивилизация?!
Нет ответа — слов понос

Дрыщет новою отравой,
Добивая все мечты.
На Помойку, всей оравой! —
Или нам придут кранты.



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



Рецидивисты Слова

Рецидивисты Слова,
Ложь наступает снова,
Меняя тон и форму,
Кормя ублюдков прорву.

Для прорвы Слов глашатай
Преступник. Лжи громадой
Придавлен мир убогий —
Зашкал "вирусологий".

Братвы реальной мало —
В ком сила не пропала
Громить Отрыжки Зла
И пригвоздить козла —

"Вождя" очередного
Предельно Честным Словом.
Меняются названья
Для той Фашисткой Срани,

Что мир поработила,
В дебилов превратила
В народцах большинство.
И ТВАРЕЙ торжество

Лишь Слово омрачает.
Чернь глупая дичает:
Намордник показал,
Что Лжи Девятый Вал

В скотину превращает.
Рецидивист встречает
Вал Ярым, Гулким Словом.
Чрез паузу — по новой.

Рецидивисты Слова,
Пускай во Зла оковах
Всегда безумный мир,
Взрывайте Тьмы эфир.

Успеха не добьётесь,
Но в Духе тем спасётесь —
В нём ценятся Порыв,
От мерзости Отрыв.



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



Души Высочество

Высочество Пророчества,
Диагноза толпы.
Наградой одиночество:
Безумные рабы

Не слышат голос Разума —
Ложь, Страх затмили всё.
Войною, лже-заразами
Придавлено Гнильё.

Гнильё зовётся обществом,
А ТВАРЕЙ холуйки
Считаются "высочеством" —
Начальством. Дураки

Считают власть, крикливость
И деньги "высоты"
Критерием. В Никчёмность
Гниль гонится: Скоты

Сегодня новой целью —
Как раньше "коммунизм".
Ложь снова СМРАДы мелют,
Рулит мирком Фашизм,

"Заботою" прикрывшись,
И прочей ерундой.
В Дурдоме Злом родившись,
Болезным головой

Не станет только Редкий —
Он чует Высоту.
Строй рабский бьёт их метко —
Не нужен Свет Скоту.

Кто выживет и сдюжит
И Голос обретёт,
Явь в Сердце обнаружит.
"Реал" — лишь в Тьме разброд.

Высочеством так ставши,
Летит в Исток сквозь Тьму.
Полёт Души уставшей —
Единый Свет уму.

Скопилась Тьма в умишке —
Дурдома гадкий след:
Родители и книжки
Вгоняли Чушь и Бред.

А школа произвола
Оставила следы.
Возвысь над Мраком Голос! —
Есть в Аде не скоты.

Не слышим голос Редких.
Высь слышит, потому,
Бей по Мерзоте метко,
Не кланяясь Дерьму.

Быть может, так к Истоку
Ты всё же долетишь —
Когда в уме Мороку
Ты с корнем истребишь.




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



Путь

Пройду сквозь Пустоту —
Мне чужд любой разряд.
Презревши простоту —
Здесь прост продажный гад.

Куда-нибудь дойду.
Цель главная — отсель!!!
Удобный мир — скоту...
Для Ищущего — мель.

Не в Циклах Зла искать
Свершение судьбы.
Мне на судьбу начхать:
Родился, где рабы

Свободою зовут
Тлетворный Мерзкий Мрак.
Напрасен в виршах труд —
Ждёт развлекух Бардак.

Начхать на Бардака
Веления — вперёд!
Планида дурака
Днесь — превращенье в скот.

Сквозь Пустоту в Исток
Желал бы я прийти.
Единственный зарок —
Идти, идти! — ЛЕТИ!!!




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



Самовластие Духа —
Остальное докука
Псевдожизни. Ты сука,
Если веришь Тьмы слухам.



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



Пустота неспроста,
Ведь обман "красота"
В мире полном скота.
Та-та-та, та... та... та...



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



Заработать писателю или поэту
Раньше было проблемой, сегодня никак,
Не потворствуешь коли Всемирному Берду
И клянёшь мировой весь протухший Бардак.

Варианты: весь прогнивший Бардак;
в Тьме прогнивший Бардак;
в Зле протухший Бардак;




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



Людоеды

Не съел кого-то, станешь первым
На очереди на обед
Чужой. Не стоит тратить нервы
На совесть — это ныне бред.




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



Ушлёпки как пробки —
Тупы и послушны.
Напор пропаганды
Докучливой ушлый —
Летят прямо в цель
По замыслу банды
Правителей. Верь —
И станешь как зверь.




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



Бред, "нет!!!" и Свет

Толпа прав`а —
С ней соглашайся:
У края рва
Пред Тьмой покайся.

Объяла Тьма
Мирок убогий.
В ком тьма Ума —
Условья строги.

Война, говнид —
Всемирный Лагерь.
Толпе сокрыт —
"Добро" на флаге.

Толпа добьёт
Чрез Страх остатки
ДОБРА — расчёт:
Дебилы хватки.

Чрез СМРАД толпе
Внедрят "заботу".
В гнилом рабе
Покорность. Квоту

На Ложь убьют —
Кто правит миром.
Война плюс труд —
Мирок секирой.

А чумки впредь
Войне подпорки.
Не жизнь, а Смерть
В рассрочку. Норки

Залил Позор.
Как мышь придурок.
ЖизДнь — приговор.
Защита шкурок —

Дурья рефлекс.
Зашкал эмоций.
Строй рабский — флекс.
Пресс Лжи. Сомнётся

Мирок в НИЧТО
С большим объёмом.
В нём раб — никто,
Разумность в коме.

Тьме крикнуть "нет!!! —
В ком Ум и Совесть.
Тотальный Бред
Закончит повесть.

НИЧТО — в ничто:
Сожгут Уродство.
Чер`ез бардо
В Дух, в Первородство, —

Кто крикнул "нет!!!",
Храня в Тьме Свет.


Вариант 7-ой строки. В ком Ум и Дух —



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



Пред-пещерная псевдожизнь, основанная на вере в Голимую Чушь

Наша вера не химера:
Злу подвластны "пионеры"
Через Страх и Ложь без меры.
Недалёко от пещеры
Очутились лицемеры.
Маски въелись: Зло — примеры.
И вторичны ТВАРЕЙ меры.
Коль играешь в простачка,
То Планида Дурака
Ожидает. Разум тает.
Но дурак о мзде мечтает,
В Лжи и в Страхе вновь лажает —
Душу этим ДОбивает.
Мыслей крохи, Дух в загоне,
Сатана всегда на троне —
"Избирают" холуйков
Для обмана дураков.
Открывается Пещера —
Ада пасть. Вновь не химера:
Деградация без меры
В Тьму ведёт. И запах серы
Скоро будет ощутим —
Путь на Дно необратим.




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



"Страна" наёмников, ментов
И верящих в "царька" скотов.
Ложь, Страх сильней любых оков.
Надежды — лишь для дураков.



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



Не препоны — Овертона
Окна губят глупый мир.
Постепенные уроны —
Вал говна летит в сортир

В том итогом. Ныне богом —
Стерквил`инус. Вал Дерьма
В мире гадком и убогом
В достижения ума

Записали. Низко пали —
Называется "прогресс".
Дураками правят  врали —
Вал Дерьма днесь словно пресс.




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



Первый шаг

Выгорание шаблонов,
Формирующих твой ум,
И "естественных законов"
Мира Тьмы, лжи, страхов, сумм

Впечатлений и сомнений,
"Знаний", мнений, заблуждений,
В "безопасность" устремлений,
Ставящих чернь на колени,

Ну и прочего Дерьма,
Также самого ума
На последнем шаге в "Бездну"
(В страхе "навсегда исчезну") —

Путь немногих. Остаётся
Чистый Дух. Он не согнётся,
Не предаст и не сотрётся —
Резонансом отзовётся.

"Резонансен" Путь к Истоку
Чрез Тлетворную Мороку
Инфернального мирка —
Плахи Лжи для дурака.

Внутрь уйдя, ищи Исток
Резонансом, одинок,
Сам себе судья, пророк.
Заключенья в Аде срок

Сам уменьшишь чрез Порыв.
Первым шагом есть надрыв
И отчаянье без меры —
Иль удержат в Тьме Химеры.




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



Колкость <—> пошлость и Маразм.
Желчность, юмор и сарказм <—>
Ложь, любой ТВАРЬЯ приказ.
Неприятье Зла в тебе =>
Щель ВОВНЕ в раба судьбе.




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



Гуси-лебеди летят,
Покидая здешний Ад.
В Ад на юге прилетят —
Не сменяемый расклад.




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



"Правители", или Ада племя.

Гучков суров. Столыпин — плут.
Кто ныне, много больше врут.
И, как всегда, напрасный труд.
А в порошок тебя сотрут
В любое время — Ада племя.
И Страхи бьют всё время в темя.




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



Губошлёпы из Европы,
Из Пиндосии скоты.
Мир — подобье крупной жопы.
В ней фекалии — менты.




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



Типа "родина"

Огромадный каравай
Для чинуш — иудин рай.
Рви побольше — не зевай:
П`охер недовольных хай!