30 poems

Poems Are Needed Only by Their Authors

This matters only unto you —
Seek no response from cattle true,
From fools, from mobs that crawl and kneel:
This is a cave-world, cold as steel.

A few exceptions still survive
Among dead generations’ hive,
But they grow rarer year by year
Beneath Hell’s Fog of doubt and fear.

Decay is spreading everywhere,
And whores-for-gold with empty stare
Prize only flattery and lies —
Thus slavery they “justify.”



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



At Some “Grand Construction Site” — Almost a Fantasy

In memory of Leonid Gubanov

Hello, my friends — I spent my days
Inside the madhouse’s dim haze
For one “unsuitable” small verse
Whose longing for the Light was cursed.

Not for a girl — for something higher.
“Cured,” I lost poetic fire.
Then to a labor gang I came;
In Moscow none would take my name.

So let hard work erase the pain,
Let sweat and booze drown out the brain.
And if the foreman throws me out —
I’ll sweep the streets. I have no doubt.

We’ll help ourselves with alcohol,
And watch our battered life-lines fall.
What difference does tomorrow make
Inside this grand insane mistake?



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



World Bedlam on the Road to Hell

Once harnessed to the load,
No matter weak or bold,
You drag it till you die.
Collapse? They’ll pass you by —
Or crush you with a grin,
Still “caring” through the din.
Concern’s their sacred spell.

Keep silent. Pull it well.
And haul yourself to Hell.
The Devil rides the cart.
He plays the tempter’s part,
With carrots on a string
Before each broken thing.

He owns the crippled mind,
Leaves human wrecks behind.
Hell’s Power rules the track,
No milestone does it lack.
It marks each step you tread
Toward doom already spread.

Not long remains to roam:
Obedient Bedlam’s home.
The whole mad world pulls hard,
Too brain-dead to stand guard.



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



Banditry and Idiocy — A Comparison

Gunfire cracking —
Gangsters acting.
Cannons roaring —
Bastards pouring
Fools and losers
Into bruisers’
Bloody madness.
Hell has had us.

Fed on lies from birth to grave,
They sank lower than a slave.



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



Rotten Bedlam

Navel-gazing cannot heal
A world where Hell is all too real.
It only helps you shift your place
From one damned circle to the next.

Then back again — the loop is sealed.
Hell’s spheres are locked and iron-wheeled.
Thus swarms of traitors thrive with ease
Within this rotting dark disease.

Serve only Heart. Let Mind remain
A tool to help the Soul attain
Its upward path beyond the snare.
Few grasp this truth — so strive to dare

Become among those scattered few
Who seek the Light beyond the blue
Of Hell’s closed systems. Far above
Dwells the “benign god” without gloves

Of doctrine, dogma, priestly fraud.
The Soul must seek that distant God.
Yet it is hard — the mind is weak,
The Soul forgot the Light it seeks,

Forgot the realm of Purity.
No map remains. No certainty.
And Buddhism calls to the Void —
One more Hell-chamber thus deployed.

Believe not blindly. Seek alone,
Or once again the lies full-grown
Will drag you back through phantom sham
That chains in dark this Rotten Bedlam.



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



All-Conquering “Humanizm”

Too little porridge when a child —
You did not grow obedient, mild.
Too little listening to lies —
Your Soul grew stronger, sharper-eyed.

Fear, submission, sludge and mush —
That is life they praise so much.
Eat less. Think more. Though you may seem
More grim, more gaunt, less fit the scheme,

More hateful to the crawling crowd,
You’ll stand against Delusion proud.
For what now spreads is not disease,
But rotting madness by degrees.

A pandemic of decay,
Of nauseating mindless sway.
The bastards turn the brain to paste,
Mix fear like butter into waste.

They poison minds with “noble” creeds,
In darkness plant destructive seeds.
And faster still those doctrines kill —
The cult of Evil bends all will.

Now “humanism” reigns worldwide —
Thin-veiled satanic rot inside.
Fight Darkness, or your Soul will drown
In oceans of absurd renown.



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



The Whole World’s a Prison — Yet the Prisoners Aren’t Thieves

We crush our Souls by serving lies,
By twisted forms of bowing lives.
Is it not time to wake and see,
To look around more carefully?

The world’s a prison. Scum command.
Idiots cheer what they’ve been handed.
They’re fooled with chaff and empty bait,
Reduced to cattle by the State.

Satanism fills the jail —
The bastards call it “good” and “care.”
They smother fools with sweet concern
While watching all the weak ones burn.

CowID exposed the core
Of what their “loving measures” were.
And showed most creatures in this place
Are meatballs on a side-dish plate.

Fear and “gavvah” — garnish, meat.
If flesh alone becomes your creed,
Then flesh alone is what you’ll be,
Your Soul debased progressively.

All degradation they defend
Through pseudo-science without end,
Through false religions, hollow schools,
Through herds transformed to useful fools.

Pamphlets printed by the ton,
Ten thousand films to numb everyone.
A shriveled Spirit means you’re poor —
False science seeks to kill it more.

And luck was with them: peasants trust,
They open wide to lies and lust,
To theories foul, to evil schemes
Growing viler with the years it seems.

That is “progress.” Media’s press
Will finish off the mindfulness,
As hurriedly they build the Cage —
A newer Camp for a darker age.

CowID became the stone
Laid first within that structure’s bones.
The Darkness scares the fools once more —
They’ll lock themselves behind the door.

Think. Act. Fear not. The prison walls
Are smeared with “norms” that slowly crawl.
Breathe deep — or else one day you’ll wake
As cattle molded for their sake.



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



Whims of “New Beginnings”

Got a wild itch in your head?
Start again the life you dread —
Dragging that absurd life-cart
Through a graveyard picked apart.

Whichever road you choose to tread,
You’re still a slave among the dead.
No other places can be found
While madness keeps your Spirit bound.

To cast that madness from your mind,
You must not sell your soul for grime.
Go deep within — seek answers there;
Without the Light, all dreams despair.

Without that Light, new starts are sheep
Marched to the slaughter half-asleep.
That Light is inward. Outwardly
They only freshen carcasses visibly.

CowID revealed it clear,
As did the war and rule through fear.
Cry “Danger!” to obedient lice —
They’ll rush to serve without thinking twice.

What struck me most in CowID’s reign
Was how the fools obeyed insane
Commands dropped down by lying mouths
With zeal that poisoned all around.

Knowledge is harsh. Don’t waste your fire
On shallow trends and cheap desire.
Your strength is scarce — so now’s the hour
To seek the questions holding power.

Forget the poses, masks, and games.
The Path to Freedom is the aim.
This filthy “life,” fit for the herd,
Can satisfy only the absurd.



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



Permanent Fascism

“For many years now I’ve met Germans who confess
that they are ashamed to be German.
And each time I feel tempted to reply
that I am ashamed to be human.”
— Hannah Arendt


Genocide and fascist plague,
Changing masks from age to age,
Shift their style but keep the core:
Turning masses rotten, poor.

Villains breed more villains still,
Breaking down the human will.
Now rashism stalks the earth —
Making shame of human birth.

Yet perhaps this final age
Soon will close the hellish cage.
Not much longer left to rot
In this underworld we’ve got.



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



“Normal” _Heroes

“An underground wise mole
Digs tunnels deep below.
Normal heroes always
Take the roundabout road!”
— Vadim Korostylyov

“Normal” heroes dodge the fight,
They sidestep wrong and call it “right.”
They bury war-hatchets with grace —
Then prove to be the common base.

The axe of war in Rottenland,
Where lies command the crawling damned,
Lives often merely in the word —
In greedy silence undeterred.

You’ll vanish there if you stay mute,
While vulgar minds corrupt the root.
For cowardice disguised as peace
Lets filth and falsehood only increase.



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



Nonsense to the Core

“Only wide-eyed crayfish creep
Through the darkness, half-asleep,
While beyond the hill afar
Mad wolves howl beneath the stars.”
— Korney Chukovsky, *The Stolen Sun*


More rotten than old “social-real” —
Pour poison down while minds still kneel.
Feed children sludge from earliest years,
Injecting nonsense, doubts, and fears.

The target’s always mind and soul;
That is the system’s highest goal.
Social collapse through endless lies —
“Babble away!” the darkness cries.



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



The “Constructiveness” of the Warlike Lodge

Armored trains and battleships —
Relics now. From torrents spit
Out by mouths of foul deceit
They build “redoubts” in every street.

The nations all are bent and chained
Beneath fascistic lies ingrained.
And treason, idiocy, fraud
Grow stronger through the reign of rot.

Forgetfulness expands each year;
The total lie grows far more severe.
Their “care” becomes more vile and sly,
Like regiments that close you in tight.

The strength and fire of the wise,
The honest few, fade out and die.
The hordes of fools, like Evil’s wave,
Overrun the strong and brave.

It’s hard remaining truly you
With Overton Windows breaking through,
With censorship and barriers spread —
CowID showed the path ahead.

Even YouDub turned its face
Toward stricter control in the Lying Space.
Militant falsehood builds the Camp anew;
And fools march gladly two by two,

Lured by “protection,” soothed by lies,
With eager smiles and hollow eyes.



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



5555

Five-five-five — and five once more.
That’s the poem-count I score.
Like mixing batches every shift
In a Fool-Camp’s endless drift.



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



Neural Network

Writes your texts and spits out art,
Makes some music, plays its part —
Everything a fool could need:
Eat and sleep and never read.

Then one morning, bio-slave,
They will chip your shrinking brain.
Soon a trunk may start to grow —
You’ll see nothing, nothing know.

You will hear no voice at all
That offends the Lords of Gall.
Only “AI” and the fools
In the prison-network’s rules

Will appear the “future bright”
Coming fast before your sight.
For the idiot, by sheer mass,
Now supports genocidal trash.

CowID already showed
How this crumbling, witless world
Bows before the rotten lice —
Poor in spirit, cold as ice.



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



Vatutin and Others Like Him

Vatutin marks the viewing lines
Through Fool-Bedlam’s collapsing signs.
And Darkness surely seeks through such
To send more souls into the dust.



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



The Soviet Pit

“The Party is the mind, honor,
and conscience of our epoch.”
— Soviet slogan

“From Moscow to the borderlands afar,
From southern mountains to the northern seas,
Man walks here like the master of his land —
His vast and mighty Motherland with ease.”
— Vasily Lebedev-Kumach, *Song of the Motherland*


The women kept what heart remained,
The Party claimed the final brain.
And nowhere in the Soviet cage
Can one escape the rotten stage.

If conscience still survives in you,
If honor breathes your spirit through,
You’ll turn morose, outcast, and poor,
With every pathway tightly barred.

From Moscow to the farthest lands
No road will open where you stand
Unless you march with fools in file
And praise the madness with a smile.



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




The poet of “revolution”
Pushes cheap mass-market delusion.
Frankly, reindeer herders write
Far more honestly of nature’s light.

There’s a famous “herdsman” too —
Driving human cattle through
Toward the building of Chimera,
Using iron-fisted terror.

Yet the poet of revolt
Never dares to shout “halt!”
Thus the poets sell their name
And survive in history’s shame —

In unfinished histories’ decay,
Phantasmagoric filth at play.
Friend, don’t write upon command
If you want your Soul to stand.



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



Good Job — Have a Pie from the Shelf!

A little pie on a shelf of rot —
That’s the treat the fools have got.
From the filth they’ll sprout fake wings,
Then rule as “noble” little kings.



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



Masha, Pasha,
Fenya, Grunya —
Yours the fate
To die for nothing.
Servile creatures bent to Evil,
Through you spreads the world’s upheaval.

Not a third of earthly rot
Should be borne — yet here it’s not.
For this filth you’ll burn in Hell.
Till then, trapped in madness’ spell,

You deny the sensitive few
Any chance to live life true,
Any chance to shape and raise
Beauty in these darkened days.



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



CowID, or Salt for the Slugs

The thirst for life will once deceive —
The meek will learn again to cleave.
Passed down through generations’ line,
It ends in rot, in slow decline.

CowID revealed life’s lowest floor —
And most became the slugs once more,
Transformed through time, by quiet stages,
Then salted down in shrinking cages.

This salt is made of fear and lies,
Of sodium fear in poisoned skies.
A chemical of anguish grown —
Where being self is barely known.

If you are neither slug nor thrall,
Then choice may cost you most of all.
Yet better that than crawling blind
Among the ruins of mankind.

A coming wave of rupture nears,
To sweep away the age of fears —
The dull fascism of decay
That traded Spirit far away.

To only few, like rarest birds
From vanished books and ancient words,
There stands the question burning still:
New hell to bear — or Spirit-will?

Look inward only for the key,
Reject the world’s insanity,
The noise they planted in your mind —
To kill the Spirit, slow and kind.



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



Homo Sovieticus

Soviet man — a dwarfish form,
A hollow shadow shaped by norm.
Beneath the Party’s iron press
You twist into deformity’s mess,

Or slowly fade away unseen —
Most often drowned in alcohol’s sheen.



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



Decay

“February. Get ink and start to weep!
Write of February in a flood of tears,
While roaring slush in chaos deep
Burns black beneath approaching years.”
— Boris Pasternak, 1912

Clouds in thought, and sludge in soul,
Yet tears today no longer roll —
Only disgust at all the filth
That swarms around in growing filth.

A toad-like mimicry of fate
Has trained the masses to obey.
And many see no way to go
Back to a “normal life” they know.

This is the price of tolerance
For ugliness and arrogance,
When strength to fight has worn away —
The world decays in rot and gray.

Too few remain who still are human;
The rest are crawling forms of ruin.



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



Yankee Lapdogs

“Justice, honor, service” — so they say,
Some slogan fed to guard the bloody play.

The first is fiction, the third serves the machine.
But what is honor in a hound of the regime?

And still the pressure grows with every day —
As if the old Soviet ghost moved in to stay.

They blew their towers up in fire and smoke
To slash “freedom” with a bureaucrat’s joke.

“Patriot Act” — and frightened minds agree;
Terrified fools believe whatever they see.



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



Boredom

“Let the song flow out in freedom…”
— "Seven Brave Men" (1936)

“Scrap the iron, send the guy to roam…”
— "I Want to Go to Prison" (1988)


The dude is out in open air,
And songs are spilling everywhere.
He drifts — then crashes in the sea,
Against the reef, unbound, unfree.

A giant watering can of speech,
Of “simple souls” within their reach:
“Pour vodka here!” — it’s all the same…
How dull they are, how dead the flame.



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



Donkey’s “IA”, damn it — “AI” and Its Verbal Waste

Context in “AI” the word rejects,
(Been there before — my clip gets wrecked).
But fools will treat as peak sublime
The junk of tasteless verbal slime.

Soon buried under endless flood
Of dumb machine-made pseudo-blood:
Created just to blind the mind
With quantity that makes you blind.

As “AI” becomes the base
Of search engines in every place —
The worst crap climbs up to the top,
And all real thinking starts to stop.

The scariest thing is mental chains,
Invisible but tight restraints.
And jokes like this, when overdone,
Help numb the mind of everyone.

A mockery of thought itself —
(MTI, if shortened on the shelf) —
It drags the thinking ones toward sleep,
While rotten systems tighten grip.

The beasts are closing everywhere —
In “AI-thought” their fangs are there.
And so the world keeps sinking low,
As hollow intellects grow.



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



A Draw Between Soviet and Globalist Chaos

“Equality” — of the athletic kind:
Now every woman plays the man’s assigned line.
It’s sickening to watch, I won’t pretend —
Though by now I’ve learned to comprehend.

In life’s Overton-windowed haze,
I’ve seen too much of twisted ways.
Plus Soviet-era walls still stand —
So now it’s a draw across the land.

The race is ending. In this game
Of genocide, globalist flames
Outpace the rest — no victory for
The rotten Party hacks of yore.

The Central Committee’s foul breed
Won’t take the crown; they’re left to bleed.
Schwab gets applause — the final score
Belongs to chaos evermore.



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



Foolery of Darkness

In memory of Tengiz Abuladze

The viceroy of the Devil, tyrant of Stalin’s age,
declares “I call for death” — a Shakespearean refrain.
Darkness conceals its shame behind a manic stage,
while court-jester “mercy” softens genocide and pain.



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



“Playing” With Words

To “entertain” with words is hard —
Exhaustion comes and breaks the guard.
And if you’re cautious in your line,
You’re just a hack with dull design.

They used to write in blood and pain;
Today it’s TNT instead — or you go insane.
Let fools not understand or care —
The Creator doesn’t notice them there.



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



Thick Stench

Changing themes is never easy —
Liars swarm and make things sleazy,
Pushing genocide ahead,
While the Clean Mind is nearly dead.

Clean Mind doubts, it searches still —
Few remain with iron will,
Not more than a thousand sparks
In a herd of blinded marks.

Main concern is soul’s salvation,
Mind’s decay and degradation —
Spreading everywhere like blight
Through the media’s poisoned light.

CowID showed it clear in full,
So did war — a world grown cruel.
At Hell’s gate there’s written shame:
“Majority” bears guilt and blame.

Mostly fools with empty head,
Not a people — walking dead.
What remains? Resist the night,
Lest you turn “like all” in blight.



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



A Pair of Fools

Steam and profit, boiling higher —
Steam of lies will purify
The “minds,” and cast all doubt aside
As slag the greedy won’t require.
And we will hymn the cult of gain,
Even if you’re a fool again.