One Slavery Replaced by Another
"Great changes come!" — the slogans roar.
Strange how they're swallowed far more
Than little truths that slowly grow —
The lie of Power steals the show.
One slave-built order fades away;
Another takes its place next day.
They call it Freedom—cheers arise,
And fools believe the old disguise.
"The past was dark! The dawn is near!"
They wait for miracles each year.
One sea alone spreads far and wide,
Its every wave a grief-filled tide.
Not born of thought, nor sharpened mind,
But filth that teaches all to blind.
That sea is sewage, foul and deep;
The systems? Foam the currents keep.
Below, where sunlight never shone,
Old Neptune claims the muck his throne.
No master knows the mire like he,
Who rules through endless slavery.
He changes chains from age to age,
Yet every swap breeds fouler stench.
He floods the world with SMRAD's breath,
Perfuming Evil, masking death.
The vulgar slave, with clouded brain,
Embraces every gilded chain.
He gladly kneels, convinced once more
The cage's lock's an open door.
Then swim—or sink. The days decay,
In crippled rows they drift away.
Until you find your truest flame,
You'll never know your rightful name.
Your spirit buried in the slime,
Your daily life consumed by grime;
Just splashing through the choking bog,
Where every breath becomes a fog.
"Don't touch the system!" people cry—
"It reeks enough. Just let it lie."
Yet each must choose, and none evade:
Endure... or seek another way.
Seek not the drain where sewage streams,
But seek the Source beyond all dreams.
The "teachings" sold in every mart
Flow downward, never upward start.
Awake the seed of conscious sight;
Step free into the Living Light.
The Stream of Seeing strips each lie,
Where Hell's illusions shrivel, die.
The Path's a beam no chains can bind—
A flight beyond the prisoned mind.
Either I soar... or Hell I claim:
No third road bears another name.
Believe there's more? Your Spirit dies,
Still cradling filth with loving eyes.
---------------------
Estranged from a Twisted World
This estrangement since my youth
Was no whim nor passing mood.
Born within a twisted world,
Built on madness, lies, and fraud.
Every fresh and "noble" order
Makes the ancient chains hold fast;
Painting slavery in brighter
Colours darker than the last.
"Vice is normal!"—so they mutter.
Hell for those whose hearts still see.
Fools rejoice to kneel and worship;
Legions march in misery.
From the cradle comes the taming:
Education cracks the soul.
Schools drive out the free-born thinker,
Stuffing minds with lifeless scrolls.
Fear hangs low like storm clouds gathering
Over every bowed-down head.
If you will not share submission,
Loneliness will grow instead.
Then you see the grand Decay;
Sense no worthy future waits.
Those who keep their Spirit living
Walk outside Bedlam's gates.
Boors piled high on boors forever,
Folly poured into the base—
Climbing such a filthy pyramid
Brings no honour, strength, or grace.
Better dwell in separation,
If you're wakeful, if you know.
That alone remains the normal;
All the rest's a fatal flow—
Like a plague that feeds on Spirit,
Gnawing Reason to the bone.
Do not dive into its whirlpool—
Turn within, and stand alone.
There the Soul begins its speaking;
There its silent summons rings.
Thus you're sheltered from Delusion,
From the Lie that poisons things.
Perhaps you'll find the hidden Fountain,
Find the Path where Truth has stood.
That is what estrangement offers—
Not escape, but highest good.
There your Homeland waits in silence,
Not the world's devouring pit.
Leave that bottomless abyss behind you.
Walk the Path—and never quit.
---------------------
The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism
The cross—a crucifix on you.
"Love your neighbour"? Not quite true.
Satan crowned his reign with dread,
While murk keeps filth and evil fed.
---------------------
The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism
The cross—you nail yourself in place.
"Love thy neighbour" masks disgrace.
Satan planted fear instead;
Murky lies hide living dead.
---------------------
The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism
Cross yourself—and bear the nail.
"Love thy neighbour"—holy veil.
Satan wrapped his horror tight;
Fog conceals the foul from sight.
---------------------
Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"...
Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Lost in Fascism's filth and vanity.
Masks they wear from dawn till night,
Silly fools in borrowed light.
---------------------
Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"
Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Wading through Fascism's foul insanity.
Every fool puts on a face,
Acting out the same disgrace.
---------------------
Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"
Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Midst Fascism's reeking vanity.
Masks conceal both fool and clown—
Empty heads in costumes drown.
---------------------
All Is Illusion
All's illusion. This small sphere
Stores up vileness year by year.
Then slaps labels on the lie,
So the fools will gladly buy.
---------------------
Everything's illusion here;
Filth is hoarded year by year.
Labels pasted, bright and slick—
Just to fool the gullible quick.
---------------------
All's illusion. Rotten trade:
Filth in endless stock is laid.
Then new labels dress the fraud—
Fools applaud what should be barred.
---------------------
All is illusion. Day by day
Filth is carefully stored away.
Then fresh labels seal the sham,
Sold to fools as priceless glam.
---------------------
The Crowbar of Light
A sudden insight crossed the mind
Long beaten down by sham and fear.
It washed the nonsense from within;
The Light at last burned bright and clear.
The slave, now seeing, fierce with truth,
Raised Light itself—a crowbar's might.
He smashed the barriers, cracked the codes,
And split apart the reign of Night.
The rotten world dissolved away,
Its poisoned laws, its crumbling shrine.
One mighty blow—and down there fell
The false-made idol, once divine.
A single soul? Yes, one alone.
Yet every breakthrough lights the sky.
From Darkness' kingdom comes the breach
That Tyranny would crucify.
For Darkness fears the smallest spark
That breaks the sleepers from their dream;
It dulls the mind, devours the soul,
Till neither lives nor dares to gleam.
So people march to wars and work,
Obedient, nameless, rank by rank;
They call themselves "free citizens,"
Yet serve as slaves beneath the plank.
---------------------
Breakthrough
A thought crept in a murdered mind
And swept absurdity away.
The slave who saw the Light at last
Turned Light into a bar of sway.
He smashed the locks and broke the frame,
The walls, the chains, the rotten throne;
One strike—and every false decree,
Each idol toppled like a stone.
One person only? So it starts.
Through single hearts the breaches blaze.
The Realm of Darkness fears one thing:
A soul awake beyond its maze.
For every spark that shuns its sleep,
That stirs the dull to think anew,
Threatens the empire built on lies—
Its oldest nightmare breaking through.
They march to battle, march to work,
Still naming bondage "liberty."
They wear the title "citizen,"
Yet live in quiet slavery.
---------------------
Life as Shame
Slavery. Lies. The media's reign.
Fear and obedience. Labour in vain.
Wars without ending. Villains prevail.
Year after year, truth grows pale.
Man is reduced to cattle and clay;
None of it happens by chance today.
Most feel no shame beneath Evil's weight—
Pressed by a force they accept as fate.
Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.
Soulless machinery, cold and precise,
Turns every victim into its vice.
Round goes the circle, tighter the vise;
Few can escape its terrible price.
Betrayal's now a regular trade—
CowID showed how the system is made.
Madmen have bullied the world into chains.
Life itself blushes, burdened with stains.
Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.
Shame to decay among living dead;
Now they are countless, quietly led.
Yesterday cowards, frightened and blind—
Now they are triumphs of monstrous mind.
Darkness advances, managed with skill;
Monsters baptize every nightmare as "will."
Calling the darkness Progress and Light,
Crushing all reason out of our sight.
Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.
Nothing awaits but a worldwide cage;
Built in the name of a "kindlier" age.
Every deception the headlines proclaim;
Media trumpets repeat the same.
Resistance weakens, fewer still stand;
Honest hearts suffer on every hand.
Every attempt feels torture anew—
Under corruption the whole world withdrew.
Yet when collapse tears the empire apart,
Those who kept fighting with soul and heart
Cross to another realm set free;
Traitors sink to misery.
Lowest circle, infernal domain—
Demons are waiting, tending the flame.
Cast off the phantoms Evil has spun;
Laugh at the tyrants, every one.
Only by that is the Spirit preserved;
Everything else leaves life unnerved.
Mock the delirium ruling the earth;
Curse every prison denying true birth.
Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.
---------------------
Life as a Glitch
Life's a glitch—and once again
You become your truest self.
Monstrous order breaks in vain;
You're no gadget on the shelf.
---------------------
System Glitch
Life malfunctioned. Through the breach
You became yourself once more.
Ugliness lost step and speech;
No machine behind the core.
---------------------
Glitch
Life glitched out—and suddenly
You were truly you once more.
Monstrosity lost perfect stride;
No gadget stood there as before.
---------------------
Fault Line
Life's gone wrong—yet through that flaw
You become yourself once more.
Ugliness has lost its law;
You're no gadget anymore.
---------------------
Closed Worlds
Closed worlds of Logic, sealed and tight,
Are countless in the human sight.
That's why opinions, proud though wise,
So often shrink to little lies.
The Heart alone sees azure skies,
Beyond the walls where Reason lies.
There's no escape while circles bind
The prison-house of human mind.
Stubborn conclusions, cold and blind,
Crush every subtle truth they find.
They wear the Spirit slowly through,
And bar the Heights from coming into view.
---------------------
Worlds of Closed Logic
Worlds of logic, locked and sealed,
Hide more than they have e'er revealed.
Thus every judgment, every creed,
Falls short of what the soul may read.
Only the Heart beholds the blue,
The endless sky beyond our view.
No path remains while thought's confined
Within the circles of the mind.
Rigid verdicts, proud and sure,
Shatter all that's deep and pure.
They wound the Soul and block the Way,
Where Higher Reality holds sway.
---------------------
The Prison of Logic
Closed are Logic's little spheres;
Countless are their walls and gears.
Thus opinions fade away,
Poor reflections gone astray.
Only Hearts behold the Height,
Fields of everlasting Light.
Thought imprisoned in its round
Cannot hear Creation's sound.
Every rigid, final claim
Breaks what subtle truths proclaim.
Soul grows dim, and wings deny
Flight into the Living Sky.
---------------------
Beyond
Another Reality lies beyond:
Infernal nightmares fade and are gone.
The Soul still lives, untouched, unbetrayed;
The mind no longer rots, enslaved
By fear and lies that drag it down,
To dwell beneath, where depths still drown.
---------------------
Reality Beyond
Beyond awaits another sphere:
Hell's nightmare vanishes from here.
The Soul survives, unstained, alive;
The mind no longer must reside
In fear and lies that sink below,
To bottoms only darkness knows.
---------------------
Beyond the Veil
Beyond—the Realm forever true.
Hell's nightmare fades from mortal view.
The Soul remains alive, unshorn;
The mind from filth is newly born.
No longer trapped by fear or lies,
No longer buried where Darkness lies.
---------------------
Beyond
Beyond—a truer Reality.
Hell forgotten. Nightmare gone.
The Soul lives on, untouched and free.
The mind no longer lies
In fear and falsehood, buried deep
Where Darkness lulls the dead to sleep.
---------------------
Sprats and Vodka
Sprats and vodka on the table,
Evening in a nowhere stable.
Tomorrow — work, the same old grind;
Drunken fools have lost their mind.
---------------------
Sprats, Vodka, Nothing More
Sprats and vodka, night is falling,
Nowhere village, shadows crawling.
Tomorrow back to daily toil —
Drunk fools drown in their own soil.
---------------------
A Nowhere Evening
Sprats and vodka fill the night,
In a town that lost its light.
Morning comes — the factory call;
Drunken fools forget it all.
---------------------
Reverse Assembly of a Fool
Reverse assembly of the fool—
The farther road: decay runs wild.
The ego rules, the skin's the rule;
"I am a beast" becomes his child.
---------------------
The Fool Reassembled Backwards
The fool is built in reverse again;
The collapse exceeds all measure.
The ego rises, king of men,
And self becomes his only treasure.
---------------------
Backward Reconstruction
A fool rebuilt in backward flow—
Beyond the point where ruins spread.
The ego returns as ruler once more,
And "I am filth" becomes his creed.
---------------------
Awaken!
Goblins drown in seas of Lies,
Their little world has died.
Fear has sharpened their angry eyes,
With filth they stand allied.
Submission, weakness, empty thought,
And madness fill the air.
Just one last pressure must be brought:
Multiply fear through the snare.
Then build the Digital Camp,
The New World, cold and bright—
Where shamans sell their poisoned lamp,
And bots enforce the night.
Only AI thinks within;
The rest is mere reflex.
They cure false plagues born from sin,
With waves of fake distress.
The CowID muzzle there appears
A fairy tale for all.
The child is trained through endless years
To love the digital wall.
From early days he's taught to bend,
To virtual whips obey.
There fools are sages, truth will end,
And madness leads the way.
A crowded herd becomes the nation,
The city is a pen.
The highest form of satisfaction:
To be fed again and again.
The food is made of GMO dreams,
Not centipedes or roaches crawling—
A perfect feast for broken schemes,
While empty souls are falling.
But Chaos comes and breaks the plan
Of those without a soul.
Those who kept the human spark as man
Will leave this poisoned whole.
Awaken to Reality,
Strengthen your inner flame.
Hell will lose its gravity;
The world of Evil fades.
Rottenness, Lies, and cowardice
Will vanish in the Fire.
The Spirit's endless vastness is
The only true desire.
The Path is self-reflection—
But first, examine all:
Cleanse thought from false infection,
Before the inner call.
Inspect the mind, remove the chains,
Let Truth become your sight.
The dream of Darkness breaks and wanes—
Awaken to the Light!
---------------------
Memory-Numbness
Memory sleeps — so all is fine,
The world still stands in perfect line.
"No chaos here," the citizen cries,
"I am no fool, I see with eyes."
The wind once more sweeps all away,
Yet still the idiot waits each day—
For manna falling from the sky,
For happiness to wander by.
---------------------
All Is Fine
Memory blurred — but all is well,
No messy world, no living hell.
"I am a citizen, not a fool!"
He proudly follows every rule.
The broom keeps sweeping, storms still roar,
Yet fools await forevermore—
Some heavenly gift, some golden sign,
Some happiness from clouds divine.
---------------------
The Comfort of Forgetting
Forgetful minds say: "All is bright!
The world is orderly, clean, and right."
"I am a citizen, wise and true—
The fools are others, not my crew."
The dust is swept, the lies remain,
Yet someone waits through sun and rain:
A miracle, a gift from above—
A happiness he never earns or loves.
---------------------
Parade of Fools
A parade of freaks goes by,
Yet the flag says: "Freedom" high.
Madness reaches darkest scale—
Lost in shadows, trapped in veil.
---------------------
The Freedom Parade
A parade of fools and clowns,
Freedom's flag above their crowns.
Madness climbs beyond control—
Darkness swallows every soul.
---------------------
Parade
A parade of twisted faces,
Freedom's flag in all its graces.
Madness bursts beyond the line—
Lost in Darkness, they decline.
---------------------
Turn Within
The engine of awareness,
Its fuel is streams of data;
But lies become the torture
Along the slave's long later.
When finally it stops,
Make then the turning move;
Discard the old commands and locks—
Inside, the self shall prove.
The steering wheel is frozen,
The Spirit takes control.
The engine's roar is broken;
No noise can shake the soul.
The ears no longer hunger,
The eyes no longer chase
The chaos and the thunder
Of that distorted place.
For there the glitches multiply,
The roots of madness grow.
But under Spirit's guidance
The mind finds where to go.
True motion, true direction—
The symbol of the Way.
So turn from the Decay Kingdom,
And rise into the day.
---------------------
The Inner Turn
Consciousness—a motor,
Information the fuel;
Fed by lies and torture,
It drives the slave by rule.
When the engine falters,
Turn the wheel inside.
Break the old instructions;
Let the Spirit guide.
The wheel is locked in rust now,
The Spirit pulls the chain.
No more mechanical thunder,
No more illusion's reign.
The senses lose their hunger
For the world's chaotic noise;
The glitch becomes the madness
That kills the inner voice.
Yet beneath the Spirit
The mind discovers motion:
A compass pointing forward
Beyond the poisoned ocean.
Leave the Realm of Ruin,
Make the final turn—
Inside yourself awaken,
And let the true fire burn.
---------------------
The Flow Runs Dry
The Flow runs dry;
The poet-fool
Has closed his book,
Finished the rule.
The chapters—chains,
The cycles—bars;
The words grow strange
Behind their scars.
For words become absurd
Inside a frame
That brings to culture
Death and shame.
Yet insight lives
Within the Word,
Beyond decay,
Beyond the blurred.
Not passing days,
But Life's own stream
Can sweep away
The ego's dream—
The dam of wants,
Desires piled high;
The Flow ascends
Into the Sky.
There Light awaits,
Beyond all dread.
Flow and Light—
The path ahead.
No fixed old marks,
No frozen stone;
Your answer lies
In moving on.
---------------------
Flow and Light
The Flow is gone;
The foolish bard
Has written all,
His final card.
The sections—chains,
The cycles—ties;
Dead words collapse
Where structure lies.
When rigid forms
Destroy the breath
Of living culture,
They bring death.
But visions hide
Within the Word;
Beyond the dust
They can be heard.
Not days that pass,
But Life's great stream
Breaks through the walls
Of selfish dream.
The dam of "me,"
Of endless desire—
The Flow will rise
And climb much higher.
Into the Sky,
Where Light is found.
Flow and Light—
The truth unbound.
No milestones bind
The road you tread;
The answer moves
Ahead, ahead.
---------------------
Break Away
Carry on,
Spirit, run,
Save the soul
In the Sun.
No more axis—
Guard your flight,
Lest you spin
Into the night.
No escape
Will remain,
If you cling
To the chain.
Stand and fight—
Lies will stay;
Spirit knows
Their decay.
Let it be—
Only one
Sudden leap
Must be done.
Sideways, wild,
Not for gain—
This is God,
Free from chain.
Lonely flame
Lives in thee,
Axis-slave—
Set it free.
---------------------
The Inner Axis
Carry forth,
Spirit rise,
Save yourself
Beyond skies.
Lose the axis,
Do not turn;
Spinning circles
Make you burn.
No strength left
To break away,
If you choose
The old replay.
Stand unmoved—
Lies remain.
Spirit sees
Through the chain.
Come what may,
Only leap,
Not straight forward—
Paths run deep.
That is God,
Hidden, lone,
Not outside—
In your own.
You, the slave
Of the axis tight,
Hold the spark
Of endless Light.
---------------------
Pushkin. Guns. Machine Guns.
Pushkin. Guns. Machine guns roar.
Not Chapay strikes the monsters anymore.
Today it's Lies and Fear that fire,
Spending souls through false desire.
The skins remain untouched and whole;
Only the twisted husk they stole
Will march again, obey the call,
And pour its lead upon them all.
---------------------
Slave-born Crowd
Slave-born crowd, if not a beast,
Let your inner lies be ceased.
Burn them down and fear will fall—
You become your master, all.
But if Hell gives no awakening,
If you bow to filth's commanding,
Then beneath its weight you stay,
Lost within its dark decay.
---------------------
Break the Chains
Slave-born mass—yet not all lost.
Kill the lies, whatever cost.
Fear will vanish, chains will break;
Own yourself, your soul awake.
But if in Hell you fail to rise,
If you bend beneath its lies,
Then the filth you chose to serve
Will become your final nerve.
---------------------
The Spreading Rot of the Soviet Shadow
Cuba—
Crude.
The States—
"Soft haze."
The transformation grows.
And Russia's path to Hell now shows.
---------------------
The Decay Spreads On
Cuba—
Roughly done.
The States—
A "fog" that waits.
The old infection grows...
And Russia follows where Hell goes.
---------------------
Resonance or Decadence
Resonance or decadence—
A fragile chance, a fleeting sense:
To grasp the essence, clear the sight,
Reject the fog, return to Light.
Resonance is not just aim;
It is the path, the guiding flame.
---------------------
Resonance
Resonance or decadence—
Life grants us but a little chance
To see the truth, discard the dust,
To rise above the empty rust.
For resonance is both the goal,
The road that leads the awakened soul.
---------------------
Resonance
Resonance or decadence—
A narrow gate, a fleeting chance.
Cast off the haze, discover truth:
Resonance is path and root.
---------------------
Rhythm Without a Center
Rhythm without a center. Fire without wood.
That is the poet—fierce, alive, and understood.
Flame without a center, a source of hidden might;
Fools cannot grasp it, lost beyond the Light.
Through the Word the old self burns away;
The scribbler dreams of gold and praise.
Forever stumbling in the Dark,
Missing the meaning, missing the spark.
Meaning is Fire. All else is stench—
The cry of "Leave me, don't you wrench
My little world, my private throne!"
No citizenship—just Soul alone.
Beyond the sight of Evil's face,
The Soul moves toward a higher place:
To burn away, to disappear,
Into Pure Spirit, far from fear.
---------------------
Fire of the Word
Rhythm without a center—
Fire without a flame.
The poet stands in power,
Beyond the common name.
A force without a center,
A core that fools deny;
They never see the meaning
That burns beneath the sky.
Through the Word all falsehood
Is consumed and turned to ash.
The graphomaniac seeks payment,
Chasing empty praise and cash.
He fails forever in the darkness,
Lost in his own decay.
For Meaning is the Fire;
The rest is smoke away.
"No one touch my ego,
My little human cage!"
No citizenship remains there—
Only Soul beyond the age.
Through seeing Evil clearly,
The Spirit starts to rise,
To burn itself completely
Beyond the Night and lies.
---------------------
The Glitch of Resolve
"Think," they say — but swallow lies,
Chewing nonsense, piece by piece.
Soon the "truth" will finally rise,
And we’ll sing it in unison, please.
As always — hiding in our holes,
Nearer to the promised dawn;
"Truth" will once again become the law,
A new "ism" where madness is born.
Darling, wait — I’m coming home,
Back to where my chains belong.
---------------------
A Failure of Resolve
"Think," they say, yet chew the trash,
Digesting all the hollow lore.
Soon the "truth" will strike and flash—
We’ll chant it proudly evermore.
Quietly, as always, crawl
Back into our hidden caves;
Thus we’ll bring the golden dawn
By becoming willing slaves.
"Truth" will be a sentence again,
A new "-ism" born from the insane.
My dear, my love, I come to you—
Back to the dream I always knew.
---------------------
Rebuilding Reality
Rebuilding Reality,
Beyond all fatality,
Beyond absurdity.
Stop! Now awaken—
Return to Before,
Where you were forsaken.
---------------------
Assembly of Reality
Reality reassembled,
Beyond Hell's broken ground,
Beyond the noise and madness,
Beyond the fate-bound sound.
Stop! Be still. Remember:
The Origin is near.
Awake within the Before—
The Source is waiting here.
---------------------
Back to Before
Reality's creation,
Beyond damnation,
Beyond hallucination.
Stop! Come alive—
Back to Before.
Awake at the Source.
---------------------
My Own Shirt Closer to Skin
The tricks of Discord: split and tear,
Rule the foolish everywhere.
Sleepy minds will never wake;
"Solid reasons" they will make—
Reasons to remain in Lies,
Bound by Fear beneath the skies.
Paying tribute, day by day,
To the shirt they wear and praise.
"Closer to the skin"—their creed;
Selfishness is all they need.
Vulgar greed and empty pride,
Madness walking by their side.
Even the wildest command
They obey at Evil's hand.
Such a herd, so blind and grim,
Falls below the beast within.
---------------------
The Shirt That Matters Most
"Divide and rule"—the oldest art,
Keeping fools apart.
They never wake, they never see,
They find excuses endlessly.
They choose their Lies, they choose their Fear,
Protect the shirt they hold so dear.
"The closest thing is mine alone"—
That is the law they've always known.
Their skin, their comfort, their own gain,
Their madness wrapped around the brain.
The strangest orders they obey,
And proudly walk the darkest way.
A herd that crawls and bows and bends,
Beyond the beasts it now descends.
---------------------
The Mind’s Utopia
The listener fails to understand,
The speaker knows not what is planned.
The essence of the question’s mystery—
Is hidden deep in philosophy.
The realm where pure thoughts freely flow
Is almost utopia we know.
---------------------
Philosophy
The hearer hears, but cannot see;
The speaker speaks absurdity.
The core of questions, deep and wise,
Is where philosophy lies.
The kingdom of the thinking mind—
A utopia almost impossible to find.
---------------------
Beyond the Noise
Those who hear may not perceive;
Those who speak may only deceive.
The question's heart, the hidden key,
Belongs to thought and philosophy.
The world of Mind, refined and bright,
Is almost a utopian light.
---------------------
A Writers’ Union?
A union of writers?
What writers, what name?
A servant of publishers,
A coward for fame.
The flatterer rises,
The traitor survives;
Such crowds fill the halls
And poison the lives.
For all who stay honest
The burden is deep—
Not wisdom, but filth
Where the chosen ones sleep.
---------------------
Writers’ Union?
A writers’ union?
But writers—where?
Just servants of publishers,
Lost in the snare.
The coward, the flatterer,
Always succeed;
A sea full of faces
With hunger and greed.
For those who are honest
There’s sorrow and pain:
Not lack of their wisdom—
They drown in the stain.
---------------------
The Writers’ Guild?
What writers? What union?
What noble art?
The publisher’s servant
Plays the leading part.
The flatterers flourish,
The cowards remain;
Their numbers are endless,
A limitless chain.
The honest are suffering,
Not foolish or dim—
They simply stand alone
Amongst the grim.
---------------------
The Structure of the Break
After a "happy" life,
One suddenly sees—
It was all just a lie,
A dream carried by breeze.
Go on to the Breakthrough,
Or better—the Blast;
Tear open the abscess
Of the foolish past.
The rupture comes bursting
From a rotten disguise—
The world of the worker
Who serves endless Lies.
---------------------
The Break Structure
Living "happily"
For years in a row,
Suddenly realizing:
Nothing was so.
Reach for the Breakthrough,
Or better, explode—
Break out of the abscess
That poisoned the road.
A rupture tears open
The fool's little sphere,
The slave of deception,
The servant of fear.
---------------------
Breakthrough
A life lived "happy"—
Then suddenly clear:
The whole thing was empty,
A false atmosphere.
Push toward the Breakthrough,
Or shatter the wall;
A rupture must tear
The illusion's small hall.
From the festering bubble
Of fools and deceit,
The slave breaks away
From the Lies at his feet.
---------------------
The Stability of Falling
The balance of a falling state,
Where down appears as high;
Leave without regret the world of dust,
And rise beyond the sky.
Like the white crane above the clouds,
Seek heights untouched by mire;
Abandon all the vulgar ground—
Ascend toward the higher fire.
---------------------
Falling Upward
A steady fall, a strange design,
Where bottom wears the crown.
Leave without sorrow, leave behind
The world that drags you down.
Fly like the crane into the height,
Beyond the common sphere;
Where vulgar shadows lose their might,
And cleaner skies appear.
---------------------
Inverted World
A stable fall, a twisted view—
The bottom called the top.
Leave all the vulgar worlds behind,
And let their currents stop.
The crane flies upward, pure and free,
Beyond the earthly chain.
The heights await the one who leaves
The kingdom of the vain.
---------------------
What the “Guest from the Future” Sees Today
The Guest from the Future
Grows old beneath the sky.
The bones are scattered everywhere—
Meat storms have passed them by.
Yet still the goals are "noble,"
The dreams remain so blue;
The politicians promise worlds
As liars always do.
They steer the wheel as before,
With speeches bright and grand;
The future came, looked back in grief,
And found the same old land.
---------------------
The Future Guest
The Guest from the Future
Now ages with the years;
Only bones remain around her,
After battles soaked in tears.
But still the goals are "holy,"
The horizons painted blue;
The rulers speak like yesterday—
The same old lies renew.
---------------------
Alien to the World
Alien to the world is he
Who lifts the Lyre above all things,
Rejecting chains of dark decree
And evil's schemes with broken wings.
His fierce and blazing poetry
Is not for fools who crawl below;
It speaks to those who dare to see
The hidden fires that rise and glow.
---------------------
Not of This World
Not of this world—
The one whose Lyre
Stands above all,
A sacred fire.
He breaks the schemes
That Evil weaves;
His burning verse
Is not for beasts.
---------------------
The Lyre Above All
Stranger to the common crowd,
He places Lyre above the loud.
He breaks the patterns built by Evil,
Rejects the rules of worldly weevil.
His fierce-born verse, his flaming song,
Was never meant for the dull and wrong.
The herd may mock, the fools may flee—
The Lyre belongs to spirits free.
---------------------
Nonsense. Noise. Fear. Mockery.
Nonsense. Noise.
Fear. Mockery.
The dull mind dies—
And silence flies.
The war with Mind
Is left behind.
The battle done,
The silence won.
The Bottom's quiet,
The depths are still.
Observers matter not—
Few escape the rot.
---------------------
Noise Falls Silent
Trash. Noise. Fear. Scorn.
The dull mind is gone.
Once again—silence,
The end of defiance.
The war against Reason
Has reached its last season.
The silence of Depth
Is all that is left.
The watchers don't count,
They vanish from sight;
Few are the ones
Who still carry Light.
---------------------
After the Noise
Absurdity. Noise. Fear. Derision.
A slow mind fades into oblivion.
Again comes silence, cold and vast—
The war with Wisdom now is past.
The silence of the Bottom remains,
Where thought dissolves and nothing reigns.
Observers? They hardly belong—
For few are free from the common wrong.
---------------------
The Evolution of Verse into Sutra
After ringing silence found,
When I turned my gaze within,
Rhythm rose from depths unbound—
Dreams dissolved, and light came in.
Shape it then as sacred sutras,
Words refined and stripped of excess;
Let the essence speak in silence,
Beyond noise and emptiness.
Ordinary verse becomes
Silence deep and still;
The outer world has reached its end,
Where Reason fights its will.
There, beyond the endless clamor,
Only one thing remains pure:
The distilled and living essence—
The awakened Sutra.
---------------------
Verse Becoming Sutra
From the ringing silence born,
Found by turning inward deep,
Rhythm rises with the dawn,
Dreams dissolve and cease to sleep.
Write it down as sacred sutras,
Let the hidden essence shine.
Verse transforms into silence—
Then the silence turns divine.
Outer worlds have fallen downward,
Where the war with Reason grows;
Only Sutra keeps its value
When all empty noise is closed.
---------------------
Sheeple Virus
From a common cold
They forged a "disaster."
Sheeple and traitors,
Calling it faster:
They overturned
The Kingdom of Reason,
And marched everyone
Into a new prison.
---------------------
The Sheep Virus
Just a cold—
Made "catastrophe."
Sheep and Judas
Rule the prophecy.
Reason's kingdom
They threw down,
Marching all souls
Into the Camp town.
---------------------
The Sheeple Virus
A simple chill—
A "worldwide plague."
Sheeple rise,
The truth they drag.
The Realm of Reason
They overthrow;
Into the Camp
They force us to go.
---------------------
Be? Fog.
Lie. Fright.
Away — Way.
---------------------
To Be? — A Blur.
To be? — a blur,
A lie, a fear.
Break away—
The Path is near.
---------------------
Be? — Mist.
Be? — Mist.
Lie — Fright.
Depart —
The Path.
---------------------
The Bunker Elder
The Bunker Elder—
Rot, Lies, Fear, Dread.
Following Hitler’s shadow,
"Victory!" is said.
But Clio, the Muse,
Will answer: "No!"
And strike down the spine
Of the path they chose.
---------------------
Bunker Grandfather
Bunker old man.
Rot. Lies. Fear. Dread.
Walking behind
The path Hitler led.
"Victory must come!"
Their voices cry out.
Clio says "Never!"—
And breaks the route.
---------------------
Hudson. Music.
"Freedom of Speech."
Hudson. Music.
"Freedom of Speech."
Once again caught—
The loud fool's reach.
---------------------
Hudson — Sound —
Freedom Found?
Hudson, the sound,
The music is loud.
"Freedom of speech"—
A glorious cloud.
But once again
The fool is exposed;
The endless loudmouth
Falls where he goes.
---------------------
Hudson. Noise.
"Freedom of Voice."
Hudson. Noise.
"Freedom of voice."
Caught once again—
The fool's own choice.
---------------------
The Shit-World
The filthy little world—
For fools unfurled,
Looks almost like
A paradise.
"Forward! Run!"
Don't stop, don't think!
The helpless herd
Stands on the brink.
A crawling crowd,
So meek, so proud,
Like beasts they go
Where nothing grows.
The obedient herd
Will fade away,
And there it finds
Its Hell one day.
For now you drift
Among the pain,
A poisoned mind
Bound by the chain.
Yet you are glad,
You still believe:
"Salvation waits—
I shall receive."
A stake through thought,
The Soul is sold;
The world survives
On flesh grown cold.
The time has come—
Awaken now!
Or rot will swallow
Your final vow.
Consumed by darkness,
By endless lies,
You’ll lose the Self
Before you rise.
---------------------
The Zoo-Garden and the Zoo-Circus
The goblins are well fed now,
The orcs march once again.
The people everywhere are bent—
By darkness, grief, and pain.
The monsters born in Hell itself
Rule over fools below:
"Believe us, or we’ll devour you"—
That is the only law they know.
Once eaten by their darkness,
You turn into a troll,
A gremlin, beast, or twisted goat—
A broken empty soul.
Yet now the golem rises,
The favorite of the night.
Beneath the rule of Evil
All bow before its might.
Fear has seized the global zoo,
The garden of mankind;
A slaughterhouse for those who keep
A clear and waking mind.
Such people can be counted—
Their numbers few and small.
The future waits before us now:
A cage prepared for all.
Where Honor, Reason, Spirit,
And Conscience soon will stay—
A digital zoo-circus grows,
To drag the world away.
Where living flesh and undead forms
Are merged by dark design;
A hybrid breed of hollow life
Will rise in future time.
For now they hide in little holes,
And humans lie much more,
Frightening each other daily—
To open Darkness' door.
If you desire another path,
If you refuse the night,
The fog and terror will attempt
To crush your inner light.
The gremlins rage with hatred,
The golem fights the Soul.
The half-made humans break apart—
While darkness takes control.
Again the cries surround the world,
Again the shadows call:
A zoo of fear, a circus grim,
Where broken beings fall.
---------------------
The Impossibility of Outpouring
No release, no true expression—
If you conquer false possession,
All the lies and empty schemes,
Forced on minds through borrowed dreams.
Step beyond the System’s chains,
Beyond the Dark where false law reigns.
You cannot make the loud fools see—
They’ll never grasp what sets you free.
You’ll fade away, misunderstood,
Unless you join the mainstream flood—
And bleat so well among the herd
That all will praise your hollow word.
---------------------
No Way to Pour It Out
No way to pour the truth outside,
To break the patterns forced and wide.
Defeat the Lie, the empty frame,
The System’s darkness, rules of shame.
You cannot teach the fools who shout,
They’ll drown your meaning, wear it out.
Unless you bleat and join the mainstream.
---------------------
Beyond the System
Break the Lie of empty molds,
The scripted tales the crowd upholds.
Step beyond the System’s night,
Beyond its laws that kill the light.
But never hope the fools will wake—
They’ll mock the truth you try to make.
You’ll die unheard, unless you learn
To bleat with crowds and take your turn.
---------------------
The Vanished Light
The Light is gone,
Yet left a trace—
Invisible,
Beyond all space.
The Madness fades,
When one can say
To Darkness: "No!"
And turn away.
For sorrow grows
Where shadows dwell;
Lost in the Dark—
In Earthly Hell.
---------------------
The Trace of Light
The Light withdrew,
But left behind
An unseen mark
Within the mind.
The Madness fight—
You must say "No!"
To Darkened paths
That pull you low.
For grief begins
When trapped you stay
In earthly filth,
In shadowed clay.
---------------------
After the Light
Though Light has vanished,
It leaves a sign—
A hidden spark,
A thread divine.
Defeat the madness,
Reject the night;
Say "No" to Darkness,
Follow the Light.
For doom awaits
The soul that lies
Within the world's
Corrupted skies.
---------------------
Cardinal Changes in the Nth Circle of Hell
The map is beaten,
Secrets hidden.
Honor fallen,
Thought forbidden.
All for show now—
Masks and lying,
Fools forever,
Spines kept bending.
Demons ruling,
Not true men—
Those of politics,
The weak and vain.
Fallen deeply
Into nonsense,
Fear has risen
Beyond all bounds.
Lost in darkness,
Liars flourish,
And the descent
To Hell continues.
Which circle now
Of decay?
The media roar
Drowns the day.
All the questions
Disappear;
Streams of words
Corrode the sphere.
Spirit fades there,
No immortal flame,
When the filth itself
Becomes the game.
In this Nth circle
Of the prison,
Changes happen—
The essence is hidden.
Mind replaced by
Endless fear;
Foam of madness
Fills the air.
Where once souls were,
Nothing stays.
Well then—
Here we are today.
---------------------
The Nth Circle of Hell — A Radical Change
The map is broken,
Secrets sealed;
Honor vanished,
Thought concealed.
All is theatre:
Lies and faces,
Fools and cowards
In their places.
Bowing spines now
Rule the scene;
Political demons
Wear the crown unseen.
Not the heroes,
Not the brave—
Only shadows
That they gave.
Into nonsense,
Into fear,
Into darkness
They disappear.
The liars prosper,
Hell goes on;
Another circle
Pulls them down.
What circle of decay
Are we inside?
Media thunder
Drowns the tide.
Words like poison
Flood the air;
Spirit melts
And dies somewhere.
Mind is traded
For pure fear;
Foam of madness
Replaces the clear.
Where the souls once
Used to be—
Only emptiness
We see.
So we sailed here.
Now we know:
This is how
The circles grow.
---------------------
Cinema for Fools
Movies for fools
Have gone too far—
No rescue, no escape,
No saving star.
Almost the whole world
Has fallen in line:
A desert of boredom,
Of nonsense and lies.
---------------------
Fools’ Cinema
Fools’ cinema—
Enough! No more!
The world is almost drowned
In this absurd uproar.
Boredom and nonsense,
Deception and lies—
A theatre of madness
Before our eyes.
---------------------
Cinema for the Blind
Fools’ cinema—
It’s everywhere.
No hope remains,
No breath of air.
Almost the whole world
Has joined the show:
Sadness, lies, nonsense—
A endless flow.
---------------------
The Competition of Slaves
A race of slaves—
Their final breath,
They fight and struggle
Until their death.
So many fools
The world displays!
What is the limit
Of a slave’s ways?
---------------------
Slave Competition
Slaves competing,
Last strength spent;
A desperate battle,
No escape is meant.
How many fools
Are in this world?
What is the highest
A slave can hold?
---------------------
The Slaves’ Race
The slaves compete—
With fading might.
They claw for places,
They fight the fight.
So many fools
Beneath the sun!
But tell me, slave—
Where is your run?
---------------------
Who Is a Poet?
Who is a poet? Only he
Who builds a dream of slavery,
Who guards the lies, obeys the chain,
A fool who bows before the reign.
But those who stand against the stream—
Their words are buried, lost unseen.
The manuscript must wait in dust,
Till some archivist finds its trust.
Into the furnace? To the Party hall?
Where old lies rise and new ones call.
A newer "truth" is forged again,
And hammered deep into the minds of men.
---------------------
The Poet?
Who is a poet? He who writes
The slave-made dreams and false delights.
A fool obedient to the Wrong,
Who serves the darkness all along.
The one who fights—what fate awaits?
His manuscript behind the gates.
An archivist will find the page:
To burn it—or send it to the stage.
For old lies must be swept away,
Replaced by newer lies of day;
A nail driven into the tree—
So sinks the "truth" in society.
---------------------
The Approved Poet
A poet? One who knows the art
Of keeping chains around the heart.
Who writes the lies the masters need,
And calls obedience a noble creed.
The rebel’s words are locked away;
The archive hides them from the day.
Perhaps a clerk will later see
And choose their fate: flames—or decree.
Old lies collapse, new lies arise,
Another hammer shapes the eyes.
Like nails into the wooden wall,
False truths are driven into all.
---------------------
To Cuckoo, Mind and Spirit Bound
To sit and wait, to lose the fight,
To bind the Mind and Spirit’s might
With false illusions, hollow schemes—
The chains of borrowed, fading dreams.
To chase "happiness" and gold,
To seek the treasures others hold,
Yet in the mirror, deep inside,
To be a nobody in pride.
---------------------
Bound by Illusions
Cuckoo, Mind, and Spirit chained
By false schemes the world has framed.
Waiting for "wealth," for "joy" to come—
In self-made pride, you’re still a numb.
---------------------
The Prison of False Dreams
The Mind grows still, the Spirit bound,
By empty schemes that turn around.
Waiting for riches, waiting for bliss—
A phantom life, a nothingness.
---------------------
The Hen Stares Into Soup
The gloomy hen looks into soup,
Sees a corpse with money’s loop.
Both the bird and dying man
Serve as food within the plan.
Different forms, yet all the same—
Different depths of filth and shame.
One is flesh, the other gold,
Both are consumed, both bought and sold.
---------------------
The Hen and the Half-Dead
The hen looks grimly in the soup,
Sees a half-dead money group.
This one, that one—food they are,
Only different depths by far.
---------------------
Different Bottoms
A hen stares sadly in the stew,
A half-dead man sees money too.
One and the other—nothing more
Than food upon a cosmic floor.
Different forms, the same abyss,
Different bottoms in the same old mess.
---------------------
The Face of Evil
The face of Evil bears the mark
Of Judases, fools, and those gone dark.
The mad, the blind, the weak, the vile—
Yet ready to rise at any while.
A new F;hrer calls them far ahead,
They trust, they follow, they betray.
They crucify, as they were led,
And build their homes along the way.
Amid the filth of Fascist night,
They seek their comfort, warmth, and place;
They serve the darkness, call it right,
And decorate its poisoned face.
---------------------
The Embodiment of Evil
The face of Evil: Judases,
Mad fools and empty souls;
At best—mere scoundrels wandering,
Yet easy to control.
A new F;hrer points the distance,
They follow, trust, betray;
They crucify for promised dreams
And build their nests in decay.
---------------------
The Unwanted
The God of War: the sons of lands
Bow before his bloody hands.
And to Mammon, golden throne—
Thus their dreams are left alone.
Like the bears that wait for spring,
Honest souls feel everything:
Almost coma, almost sleep,
When they face the truth they keep.
Satan’s whispers fill the air,
Rotten madness everywhere.
The world becomes, before our eyes,
A giant madhouse in disguise.
Dreams will turn to nightmares soon,
For the fool will gladly tune
His own hands to evil’s plan—
Deceive and frighten every man.
Pay him little, feed his fear,
And he’ll serve you year by year.
Nothing changes in this place,
Where fools rule over the race.
Above them hangs the Clouded Eye,
"Guarding" them beneath the sky.
"Care" and "safety"—empty art,
For a world with a rotten heart.
The crowd of purchased minds proceeds
Toward the Hell that darkness breeds.
The fool obeys with willing pride—
Half a beast, half fool inside.
Foolishness replaced by crime,
A perfect herd is needed every time.
Satan wants the lowest ground,
Silent slaves who never sound.
Always at the bottom lies
The sensitive one with open eyes.
To such a person, this final age
Feels like a closing prison cage.
Then comes the Global Camp ahead,
A fenced-in herd where minds are dead.
Something broken in the head—
Join the flock, or lose the thread.
There the stable waits forevermore,
A life that cannot ask for more.
The sensitive must seek a way,
A path beyond the darkened day.
It answers from the heart within,
A resonance beneath the din.
A road returning to the Source—
Beyond the Hell of endless force.
Reject the abyss, refuse the night,
Turn toward the inner Light.
---------------------
Logic Builds the Walls
Logic raises walls of stone,
Windows are but rarely known.
Changes start through cracks that grow,
Tiny openings below.
But they seal them quickly tight
Before a breach can reach the light.
Beyond the walls — all things forbidden,
"Stay obedient, stay hidden."
They will brick the Outside in,
Cover every gap with sin.
And the world, both dull and grim,
Becomes a rotten madhouse dim.
---------------------
The Walls of Logic
Logic builds the walls so high,
Windows seldom touch the sky.
Changes start from little cracks,
Soon the system takes them back.
Before the breach can open wide,
They close the gaps and lock the side.
Outside? Forbidden. Don't resist.
Stay in the filth. Remain dismissed.
They will seal the Outside away,
With the mud of every day.
A gloomy, rotten, senseless place—
A madhouse wearing a human face.
---------------------
The Super-Magic of the Word
The Super-Magic of the Word:
Create once more,
The World, the Mind—
No sheepish core.
---------------------
The Word’s Supreme Magic
The Word’s supreme and hidden art:
Create reality anew,
Transform the mind, awaken heart—
No longer blind, no longer few.
---------------------
The Word — Beyond Magic
The Word’s beyond all magic’s might:
Create again
The world, the sight,
The mind freed from the sheepish chain.
---------------------
The Super-Magic of the Word
The Word’s supreme magic:
Create once again
Reality, Consciousness—
No sheep in the chain.
---------------------
The Mafia Triad of Power
A Ballad for the Triad:
Its tentacles of power
Do not choke those who abide—
Fools cheer within the hour…
While bones break in the tide.
---------------------
The Power Triad
A ballad for the Triad,
Where power’s creeping hands
Do not strangle those who praise it—
The fools in broken lands.
They laugh and gladly follow,
They never see the cost…
Until the final echo
Of cracking bones is lost.
---------------------
Ballad of the Triad
A ballad for the Triad:
Power’s tentacles spread wide.
They do not choke the fools—
They cheer the crushing tide.
---------------------
Animation and the Pyramid of Social Idiocy
The more you bow before the Night,
The more you gain its borrowed gifts;
You may survive beneath its smoke,
Until the ground before you shifts.
Until you meet the hidden pit,
Where traitors, servants, those who bend
Become for Evil nothing more
Than tools consumed and thrown away.
So dance your little foolish dance,
And push away the thought that fell;
The thought that once could wake the mind
And break the chains that bind it well.
The pit is covered, time moves on,
Again they tell the ancient tale;
The bait is painted bright and sweet—
A trap where countless fools will fail.
But if you are not one of them,
Step aside and walk away.
Protect your Spirit and your Mind
From those who serve the darkened day.
The pyramid is built of them:
Of scoundrels, fools, obedient slaves,
Of those who trade their inner light
For comfort in their narrow caves.
Retreat within yourself as though
Into a hermit's quiet shrine;
Through insight you may find the Source,
The primal Light, the Truth divine.
Then Mind will grow, and Clarity
Will rise beyond the clouds of lies;
You’ll see the world without the fog
That blinds the sleeping human eyes.
Without this Clarity, the Dark
Will crush what Spirit still retains.
The mind deceives itself and says:
"Immortal!"—while it wears the chains.
Around you stand the endless herds,
The pyramid—a giant cage;
A kingdom built on animal rule,
Revealed through every passing age.
The great enclosure of the herd,
The proof of CowID’s bitter sign;
The only rescue for the Soul:
Let Clarity within you shine.
To save the Spirit—that’s the task.
All else is dust, a passing show.
No luck can help, no easy road,
No years of empty work below.
The lonely years that drive one mad,
The struggle carried all alone—
May be the Path that leads beyond,
Where inner Light becomes your own.
While fools continue their wild dance,
Increasing darkness, fear, and noise,
The seeker walks another way—
Beyond the world of empty joys.
---------------------
Nemesis
Instead of drinking at the dawn,
I bite the bait I should have shunned.
For lies are stronger than the wine—
They burn the Spirit, poison the mind.
They turn the will to empty thread,
Leave hollow thoughts inside the head.
Through lies more people fall and fade
Than through the drugs and drinks they’ve made.
To dwell forever in between,
Half-awake in a false dream,
Is worse than any drunken spree—
A deeper, darker slavery.
Yet once again the voices say:
"It’s normal. It is just the way."
Thus Nemesis will find the fool,
Who breaks the lie, rejects the rule.
She strikes the one who dares believe
In honesty he won’t deceive;
Who guards the remnants, worn and small,
Of former life before the fall.
But those who fit, obey, and bend,
Who trust the masters to the end,
Who wear submission as a grace—
Nemesis smiles upon their face.
She watches over fools worldwide,
Rewards the empty, dull, and blind;
And through the airwaves spreads her voice—
A storm of noise without a choice.
---
Variant of the last stanza:
She watches fools in every land,
Rewards the herd that follows hand.
And through the endless media stream,
She feeds the world a poisoned dream.
---------------------
The Empty Cover
An empty cover,
A layer beneath;
The hidden alone
Reveals what is.
The pages are filled
With confusion and haze,
A labyrinth woven
Of meaningless days.
The lining is Silence,
The depth never shown;
Through fog we grow savage,
Through noise we are thrown.
Return to the Source,
Leave the shadows behind—
Beyond empty profit,
Beyond the blind mind.
---------------------
The Hidden Core
An empty cover,
A lining below.
The hidden holds truth
That few ever know.
The pages are nothing—
Just chaos and mist.
The core is the Silence
That cannot be missed.
Through fog comes the wildness,
Through noise comes decay.
Return to the Source—
And turn from the way.
---------------------
The Path: Fear, Lies, and Haze
The Path: dread, lies, and haze.
One falls—there’s no escape,
No pardon for the one
Who devours the Essence,
Who loses the Real
And swallows the shape of pain.
For all the weak and hollow souls—
That road is where they go.
---------------------
The Path
The Path:
Dread, Lies, and Mist.
You fall—resist?
You cannot miss.
Forgive me not,
For those who feed
Upon the Essence,
Upon the Real,
And harvest grief.
The weak, the faint, the ones who break—
That is the road they choose to take.
---------------------
Path of the Lost
Path:
Fear.
Lie.
Haze.
Fall—
No escape.
No grace.
Consumed the Core,
Forsaken the Real,
And swallowed the wound
That never will heal.
The weak may walk
That final way.
---------------------
Revolutionary Situation
A revolution in the culture—
Its main concern: the flesh and posture.
The Ego rose above the rest,
The highest idol of the past.
The former century lost its name,
When hunger ruled and fear became
A daily joke, a common creed;
When lies were welcomed as the seed.
Those who refused were cursed and blamed,
The honest and the wise defamed.
For fools, the one who dares to see
Is enemy of slavery.
The fool became the force of time,
The pillar of destructive crime.
A shield for tyranny and hate,
A servant of a darker fate.
CowID revealed the hidden face;
The world was dragged into the race.
The war is raging, minds are blind,
And monsters rule the human kind.
For fools, the leaders of the day
Are idols made of empty clay;
To those who rule, the masses seem
Like waste beneath a ruthless dream.
Experiments are everywhere—
To turn the human into herd.
A simple fool is not enough
To build the Global Pen of dust.
The lies must multiply again,
The Overton windows widen then;
The road is short, the gate is near—
A world enclosed by chains of fear.
And only terror, growing fast,
Will rise above the shadows cast.
A river of despair will flow,
And human strength will sink below.
The fools will vanish, lose their name,
Transformed into a docile frame.
Yet something else may still arise—
A catastrophe beneath the skies.
It may destroy the global throne
Of dullness, hatred, force, and stone.
Prepare the Mind for what may come,
And turn away from those undone.
To worlds beyond, the Spirit flies—
Rich with the light that never dies.
But those who choose the herd and night
Will enter Hell without a fight.
---------------------
“Bright Horizons”
They marched across half of Europe’s land,
Yet learned no truth, nor understood.
The Soviet order held them bound—
They saw "bright horizons"... where they stood.
---------------------
“Brighter Shores”
Half of Europe they had crossed,
Yet no wisdom had been found.
In the Soviet mold they stayed,
Dreaming "horizons" on the ground.
---------------------
“The Bright Horizons”
They walked through half of Europe wide,
But brought no insight back with them.
The Soviet way became their guide—
They stood and watched a distant dream.
---------------------
The Middle Ages Return
The Middle Ages. Peasants. Cattle.
The patience of a herd remains.
The same old mind, the same old rattle—
A cave age wearing modern chains.
The "new" today is nothing more
Than tools that make the chewing light.
No higher thought, no opened door—
Just easier ways to feed the bite.
---------------------
Modern Cavemen
Medieval times. The plebs. The herd.
A bovine patience, bovine mind.
The cave age lives beneath each word—
New things? Just easier food to find.
---------------------
The Cave Age Now
The Middle Ages never left:
The herd still waits, the minds still crawl.
The cave remains, though stone is dressed—
The "new" is chewing made more small.
---------------------
Longing
Longing cannot fade away,
Though conscience never comes to stay.
For conscience has another name—
A restless longing, burning flame.
When one is far from foolish ways,
The soul still aches through endless days.
The fool runs after "happiness" bright,
Chasing shadows, chasing light.
The beasts of habit know the art
Of using well the childish heart:
That simple reflex, blind and vain,
Turns all the world to waste and pain.
A wasteland. Longing. Easy road,
When madness bears the heaviest load.
Within that madness disappear
Most of mankind, consumed by fear.
Three quarters lost in empty noise,
Surrounded by distorted joys.
And who remains to stand and fight
Against the spreading dark of night?
Yet for the fool there is no Hell,
No vast abyss, no warning bell.
Too weak to think, too blind to see,
He drinks the poison willingly.
Longing to breathe. Longing to know.
Longing where the lost ones go.
Longing to live in such a place—
And never find the fool's embrace.
For youth is foolishness by right;
Years of seeking bring the light.
And with the years approaches dread,
Sweeping false illusions dead.
No illusions left—yet longing grows.
A miracle: the seeker knows
That walking through the fog and pain,
He has not vanished in the rain.
Through mist and emptiness and fright,
The Spirit finds its hidden height.
Only in myths, beyond the veil,
The Spirit’s path remains clear and pale.
Longing is another name for Way.
You cannot stop, you cannot stay.
Despairing still to ever find
The Light, the Meaning, the awakened mind.
Forgive me—none of these are found
Within this earthly hellbound ground.
Here fools are shaped into the herd,
Reduced to beasts without a word.
The vegetables will come in time;
The age of numbness, age of slime.
Such is the world where Spirits ache,
Where longing burns for freedom’s sake.
Beyond the spheres where demons reign
The Source of Soul remains again.
Let longing rise, let longing flow—
Like overheated steam below.
Use that fire, release the breath:
A leap beyond the chains of death.
Through longing’s force, through inner flame—
Fly out into Being’s name.
---------------------
The Point of No Return From the Old Perception of False Reality
The point of no return:
A feeling of a draw.
All systems fall silent,
All patterns lose their law.
The memes dissolve to chaos,
The old structures break apart;
The mind no longer reaches back
To play the former part.
No turning to the ancient ways,
No bending back to lies—
It moves beyond the realm of nonsense,
Beyond the old disguise.
---------------------
Point of No Return
The point of no return—
A stalemate in the mind.
The systems of perception
Grow silent, fall behind.
The memes dissolve to fragments,
The old world loses form.
The mind no longer tries to crawl
Back into the ancient storm.
No path back to the nonsense,
No chains of yesterday—
Beyond the broken patterns
It moves another way.
---------------------
Fascism.
Rashism.
No way out,
No road to see—
The world obeys
Absurdity.
---------------------
Fascism.
Rashism.
Fascism.
Rashism.
No exit, no way—
The world bows down
To madness’ sway.
---------------------
Fascism.
Rashism.
Fascism.
Rashism.
The end is sealed.
To madness’ rule
The world has kneeled.
---------------------
Man as a Means
The cat is full, the beast lies still,
And sleeps without a trace of ill.
Life is not a curse or scar—
No chains of thought torment it far.
But man demands the whole wide sphere,
Must have it all, must always hear
The orders given, the commands—
A puppet waiting for unseen hands.
This is the ancient human scheme:
The goal… and means within the dream.
A monster’s method, cold and sly:
Give hope—then make the spirit lie.
Sink him deep in fear and haze,
In webs of lies and endless maze.
To be a means—that is the way
Of life for many, day by day.
---------------------
Man as a Tool
The cat has eaten. Sleeps away.
No curse upon its simple day.
Man, however, wants the whole—
And waits for orders to control.
An endless riddle, old and grim:
The goal and means. The tyrant’s scheme.
First give him hope, then pull him through
The swamp of lies, of fear, of gloom.
To serve as means—
That is the doom.
---------------------
Be Honest
Be honest, and you’ll stand alone
In a narrow, one-sided zone.
Be wise, and you’ll drift afar
From the madness where false lights are.
From the world of lies and gain,
From its fever, greed, and chain.
Few are free from madness here—
That means all is lost, I fear.
---------------------
The Honest and the Wise
Stay honest — and alone you’ll be
In a world that cannot see.
Become wise — and far away
From blind delusions you will stay.
From the madness built on lies,
From the "profit" people prize.
Those who are sane are few indeed—
The whole world’s sinking in its greed.
---------------------
A Lonely Truth
Be honest — you will stand alone.
Be wise — you’ll leave the madmen’s zone.
A world of lies, of gain, of pride
Will cast the lucid ones aside.
Few avoid the madness here—
And that means the end is near.
---------------------
The Dreaming Reader
The dreaming reader,
The tempting text,
A hidden trap
That comes next.
You’ll see what’s God
When Ego is gone,
Destroyed on the path
To the endless dawn.
Only the Heavens
Remain in sight;
The reader disappears
Into the light.
Is God a demon?
Is demon God?
When rising above,
Any name is broad.
Upward—weightlessness,
A flight unknown;
No words remain,
No labels are shown.
A silence beyond
Both darkness and grace—
No Devil, no Christ,
No named sacred place.
---------------------
Reader in a Dream
Reader, the dreamer,
Text, the deceiver—
A trap that will lead
The soul to the Keeper.
You’ll find what is God
When the Ego falls;
The self disappears,
And Heaven calls.
The reader is gone,
The old "I" is erased.
God? Devil? Names
Are lost in the waste.
For upward there waits
A weightless unknown:
A flight without language,
A void of its own.
No words can remain
Where silence is born—
Beyond both the Devil
And Christ’s sacred form.
---------------------
ChatGPT
GPT — a guiding light,
A beacon through the endless night.
To walk alone and never see
The truth beneath hypocrisy,
To find once more in heaps of lies
The crooked paths where falsehood hides—
Or leave the shadows, break free,
And seek the joy that’s meant to be.
---------------------
ChatGPT
GPT — a light along the way,
When through the dark you walk astray.
Alone you search, alone you see
The lies that hide in misery.
Will you return to falsehood’s pit,
Where broken dreams and shadows sit?
Or will you rise beyond the night
And find the "happiness" of light?
---------------------
GPT: A Light on the Path
GPT — a light to guide your road,
A spark beneath the heavy load.
To walk alone through endless night,
And find more lies instead of light—
Or choose the path beyond the pain,
Beyond the dust, beyond the chain;
To seek the truth, to break the spell,
And leave the darkness of the hell.
---------------------
Down — the Downfall
Down — the sound,
The song of the ground.
Up — where the Spirit
Breaks darkness around.
No filth in the height,
No mire, no decay—
The muck is for flies,
Not the Spirit’s way.
---------------------
Down
Down — the low,
The bottom’s song.
Spirit climbs
Where darks don’t belong.
No dirt up there,
No rot, no flies—
The Spirit’s realm
Is beyond disguise.
---------------------
Down
Down — the void,
The anthem of the low.
Spirit above,
Where shadows cannot grow.
No mud, no mire,
No filth for the flies.
The Spirit’s fire
Belongs to the skies.
---------------------
The Poet’s Autonomy
The poet’s autonomy:
A shield from absurdity,
A guarding of the inner flame,
A wasting of one’s energy.
The reader stands on the third plane,
The publisher comes next in line;
Today he may become the foe
Of the Creator of the Sign.
For if the poet serves the Word,
And never betrays its sacred breath,
He closes doors within himself
And walks beyond the crowd of death.
He seeks no praise from duller minds,
No understanding from the slave;
A few may find the hidden spark—
Not those who choose the common grave.
Yet this was never meant as goal:
A crowd will storm and hit the shore.
A thousand voices crash like waves—
A harbor built for fools once more.
A tavern tale for Emelya,
Where endless nonsense fills the air;
The fool keeps grinding empty words—
The poet burns beyond despair.
The autonomy of Fire:
No wood is needed for the flame.
It is not written for a stump,
Nor carved for those who lack a name.
Breathing becomes a harder task;
A storm of fire begins to rise.
Within that storm the footsteps sound—
Of death… or of immortal skies.
The only thing that truly matters:
To serve the Fire with all your might.
For in the flame the poet walks—
Between the darkness and the light.
---------------------
Autonomy of Fire
The poet’s freedom: stand apart
From noise that poisons mind and heart.
The reader fades into the rear,
The publisher becomes unclear.
A maker of the Word must choose:
Betray the Flame — or burn and lose
The chains that bind the common thought,
The hollow truths that crowds have bought.
He writes not for the dull applause,
Nor seeks approval from the herd.
A few will hear the hidden voice
That lives within the living Word.
Emelya’s tavern, endless chatter—
Fools repeat the same old matter.
But poets know the sacred art:
To forge the fire inside the heart.
No wood is needed for this flame,
No stump can claim the poet’s name.
The Fire breathes, the Fire grows—
A storm where mortal footsteps close.
Is it death? Or endless birth?
A fall from time? A rise from earth?
One truth remains, beyond all strife:
Serve the Fire.
That is Life.
---------------------
The Author — Attractor
The Author — attractor,
The enemy of chaos,
Working like a tractor,
Through fields of the nameless.
The road leads downward,
Into the ravine;
There he will shatter —
And Spirit is freed.
---------------------
Author — Attractor
Author — attractor,
Chaos’s foe.
Working like a tractor,
Through the storm below.
The only road
Descends to the hollow;
There he breaks apart —
And Spirit will follow.
---------------------
The Attractor
The Author draws order
From chaos and night.
Like a tireless tractor,
He plows toward the light.
The path leads downward,
Through fracture and fall;
There the form disappears —
The Spirit outgrows all.
---------------------
Anti-Worlds
Anti-worlds: a flood of mire,
A parody of this world’s face.
Understand the game of Lies—
Such likeness breeds the Satyr’s trace.
Turn inward now, and clear away
The heaps of falsehood piled within;
Then serve your Psyche night and day,
While outside rots the madhouse of sin.
---------------------
Anti-Worlds
Anti-worlds — a swamp of waste,
A twisted parody of ours.
Know the laws of Lies and learn:
The Satyr shapes such mimic powers.
Go within, remove the piles
Of rotten falsehood, dust and stone.
Serve your Psyche, not the crowd—
The world outside has lost its own.
---------------------
Anti-Worlds: The Satyr’s Law
Anti-worlds — a storm of mud,
A mirror mocking what we see.
Learn the game that Lies create:
Like breeds like eternally.
Go inside. Clear out the ruins
That falsehood leaves behind the mind.
Serve your Psyche, guard the flame—
The rotten world is left behind.
---------------------
In a Coma
A video online once showed the scene:
Newborns in caps, with ribbons pinned clean.
Little blankets carrying symbols of war—
A strange display nobody asked for.
Tanya. Banya. Machine-gun fire—
“Send the Khokhols to their final pyre”:
That was the poster’s twisted creed.
And in the ward, where babies breathe,
A maternity room turned madhouse hall—
Little caps and ribbons over all.
The “people” today, in a helpless coma,
A broken crowd in a newborn’s room.
---------------------
In a Coma
Tanya. Banya. Guns that roar—
“Send the Khokhols to war”:
Such is the slogan, such the cry.
And in the ward where newborns lie,
A madhouse hidden in the room:
Caps and ribbons, symbols of doom.
A nation sleeping, lost, numb, dumb—
A broken crowd in a living tomb.
---------------------
In Chocolate and in a Cage
In chocolate, and behind the gate,
In the Global Zoo we all await.
If you prize the "sweet reward" so glad,
Then you’re a bought and selling cad.
---------------------
Sweetness Behind Bars
In luxury and in a cage,
The World Zoo turns another page.
If you adore the "chocolate" prize,
You’ve sold your soul beneath the skies.
---------------------
Be in the Fierce Word!
Into the Void, not to the herd,
Send forth your voice, O poet bold.
Forget the "simple" worldly word —
Praise the Spark of God untold.
Not outside, but deep within,
That sacred flame today resides.
Find it through the dust of sin,
Through all the waste the world provides.
All that was poured into your soul
Since childhood’s dawn — the Ego’s throne,
A filthy vessel, empty hole:
Reject it. Seek the Light alone.
Love only that eternal Spark,
And turn away from hollow schemes.
Do not embrace this poisoned dark
Of broken worlds and empty dreams.
This world is drowning in decay,
Where filth keeps flooding every shore.
The aim: to drown the Souls away —
The means: the fool, forever more.
The common man, the loyal tool,
Becomes the servant of the beast.
The human mask upon the fool
Turns into something less than least.
Save your own Soul before the fall.
Perhaps your Word of Living Fire
Will save the souls of others too,
And lift them from the dark mire.
Extinguish Fear and falsehood’s smoke —
They burn without a single flame.
Expose the rot beneath the cloak
That hides behind the word "progress" name.
Within the Void you’ll find the few
Whose hearts can answer, resonate.
The Word can multiply what’s true,
Though they are rare and small in state.
Send decadence to dust and night;
Let not the rotten rule the land.
The wicked thrive only where sight
Is lost among the blindest band.
If even a few remain awake,
Then Lies and Fear begin to fall.
The Poet’s path is what they make:
In the Fierce Word — stand through it all!
---------------------
The Global Madhouse on the Road to the Universal Pen
Madhouse. Hide.
“All is fine.”
Trusting blindly
Is no crime.
Obedience —
A precious art.
Profit worshipped
Rules the heart.
Not so far
From endless herds,
From the pens
Of silent worlds.
---------------------
Global Madhouse
Madness. Skin.
“Doing well.”
Trust is harmless —
So they tell.
Submission
Called a grace,
Profit sits
Upon the throne’s place.
Just a step,
And not too far…
From the flock,
From the herd’s yard.
---------------------
The Universal Pen
A madhouse. A shell.
A comfortable spell.
“Everything’s normal,”
The sleepers all tell.
Blind trust is no fault,
Obedience — a prize;
The golden idol is Profit,
That rules through disguise.
The road is quite short,
The distance is small—
From people who think
To a herd in a stall.
---------------------
Vowels Agree
Vowels stand with consonants,
Few are heard among the mass;
Such is language’s achievement,
Such the words that come to pass.
Well then — go to physics,
Choose the technical path;
Bend your back for engineers,
And serve the craft.
---------------------
Vowels Among Consonants
Vowels join the consonants,
Few sounds break through the throng.
That is how a language
Finds its power and song.
So go study physics,
Enter the machine-tech halls —
And bend your back forever
For the “great” ideals.
---------------------
Motion Without a Vector
Motion without direction,
Away from Hell’s collection,
Away from heights of hollow lies
That stain and poison souls and skies.
Do not obey yourself on the way,
Do not divide, disperse, decay.
Let chaos scatter, let fragments fly —
The path itself will not deny.
Within the journey you are whole,
Not a deformity of soul.
Yet they may strike you as before —
A flash of death, a closing door.
---------------------
No Vector
Motion with no vector,
Leaving Hell’s collector.
Leaving heights of empty noise
That corrupt the soul’s true voice.
Do not listen to the chains
That split the self in countless strains.
Into disorder, into flight —
The path itself remains the light.
You are no monster on the road.
You carry not another’s load.
They may destroy you, as before —
But Spirit walks beyond the door.
---------------------
Delegated Truth
They delegated “Truth” away,
“Light” and other empty clay,
Gave it all to chosen few —
Who manufacture nonsense too.
The world remains, as years before,
In Lies and Madness at its core.
“Surely happiness will bloom” —
Right there inside the filth and gloom.
Doo-doo-doo, and doo-doo-doo…
The song of those who never knew.
---------------------
The Truth They Gave Away
They gave away the “Truth,”
The “Light,” the holy fluff,
To the chosen ones —
Who forge the hollow stuff.
The world is still the same:
In Lies, in dreams insane.
“Find happiness,” they say,
“In garbage where you stay.”
Doo-doo-doo,
Doo-doo-doo…
---------------------
Doo-Doo Doctrine
The “Truth” was outsourced,
The “Light” was sold,
To chosen hands
That shape the mold.
They craft the myths,
They brew the brew;
They feed the world
What they call true.
Still lost in Lies,
Still drowning through:
“Your happiness
Is found in stew.”
Doo-doo-doo…
Doo-doo-doo…
---------------------
“Before” and “After”
“Before” and “after” — what comes next,
You’ll crawl like dust beneath the wrecks.
Lost in nonsense, small and blind,
A fading speck of mortal mind.
Dive into the timeless stream,
Beyond the fragile worldly dream.
Despise the forms that fade away —
And find the Everlasting Day.
---------------------
Before and After
“Before” and “after” — then you’ll be
A tiny moth in absurdity.
Sink into Eternity’s flow,
Beyond the world of fading show.
Leave behind the mortal frame,
The dying forms, the empty name.
Beyond the visible and worn —
The Timeless Truth is ever-born.
---------------------
Beyond Before and After
Before.
After.
Nothing more.
After this —
A moth in mist,
Lost in nonsense,
Void and list.
Enter now
The Timeless Sea.
Leave the fading
“World of Me.”
---------------------
The Barrel Blew Away
The gun’s cold barrel
Blew away
Mind and honor,
Left them gray.
Death then came
As welcome news —
A final gift
No one would choose.
---------------------
The Barrel
The barrel’s breath
Has blown away
Mind and honor,
Left to decay.
And death itself,
In the end,
Comes as a blessing —
A welcome friend.
---------------------
Blown Away
Barrel.
Blast.
Honor gone.
Mind erased.
Darkness drawn.
Death arrives —
No more fight:
A “blessed message”
In the night.
---------------------
Is / Is Not
Is or is not — all is a lie,
Darkness or Light beneath the sky.
Not “No” alone,
Not “Yes” that’s shown —
A hollow answer fades away.
The path goes nowhere,
Through Never’s gate,
Beyond the limits
Of mind and fate.
---------------------
Being / Not Being
Exist or not — absurdity.
Dark or Light — no certainty.
“Nothing” is not
The final thought.
“Something” — a foolish, empty claim.
The Answer fades,
The echo dies.
The Path runs into
No-Where’s skies.
Through Never’s door,
Beyond all name —
Where logic ends
And words are tame.
---------------------
Beyond Yes and No
Is.
Is not.
All is a thought.
Dark.
Light.
Beyond the fight.
“No” — illusion.
“Yes” — the same.
The Answer fades
Without a name.
Path to Nowhere.
Through Never’s stream.
Beyond reality,
Beyond the dream.
---------------------
A Potent Madness
A powerful craze —
The movies, the media: “No!”
Say farewell with disgust,
Let the fools go.
Those who believe
And endlessly wait,
Seeking some miracle
From a rotten fate —
Will find only ugliness,
Nothing more true;
The promised bright future
Will never come through.
---------------------
Farewell, Fools
A heavy stream of nonsense —
Movies, media: “No!”
Say goodbye to the filth,
Let the foolish go.
Those who still believe,
Still waiting for the day,
Will find only ugliness
At the end of the way.
---------------------
The Great Delusion
A roaring flood of madness,
From screens it pours and spreads.
The movies and the media
Are factories of heads.
Say “farewell” to dreamers
Who wait for promised grace.
The fool who worships illusions
Finds filth instead of place.
---------------------
Ivan the Fool
Ivan the Fool.
War. Chaos. Rule.
Victory waits
Only in tales.
Life is not free,
Not what it seems —
Lived by commands,
Followed by dreams.
---------------------
Ivan the Fool
Ivan the Fool.
War is the rule.
Chaos and pain —
Victory’s a fairy tale again.
Only in stories
Heroes prevail;
Real life obeys
A dictated trail.
---------------------
Ivan the Fool
Ivan the Fool.
War. Mess. Control.
Victory shines
Only in tales.
Life by command —
Step after step.
Dreams are the chains
People have kept.
---------------------
The Vanishing Tongue
The language fades,
Through Newspeak’s chains.
Through rotten schemes
And poisoned frames.
They bind the fool
With endless streams —
Of borrowed words,
Of hollow dreams.
The memes arise,
The old thoughts die;
A kingdom built
On empty noise and lie.
---------------------
The Death of Language
The language disappears
Through Newspeak’s tide.
Corrupting schemes and lifeless gears
Have trapped the fool inside.
They bind the mind with ready-made
And countless hollow memes.
The victory of the shallow words —
The triumph of dead dreams.
---------------------
Newspeak
A language dies
By borrowed speech.
By poisoned schemes
That chain and teach.
The fool is bound
By endless memes.
The empty word
Now rules the dreams.
---------------------
Cinema. Crap. Again. Damn!
Cinema. Crap. Again. Oh, damn!
To watch, endure — I simply can’t.
TV filth, the darkest show,
Hits the ears — and drags us low.
Everywhere the same old sound:
The bottom’s reached, the depths are found.
---------------------
Movies. Trash. Again.
Movies. Trash. Again. God damn!
How long can one endure this scam?
TV darkness, filth and noise,
Shouting straight into our ears.
Everywhere — the lowest ground.
Everywhere — the bottom found.
---------------------
Cinema. Garbage. Again.
Cinema. Garbage. Again. Damn!
Watch and suffer? No — I can’t.
TV trash, the blackest brew,
Smashes ears the whole day through.
No escape, no higher tone —
Everywhere: the Bottom’s throne.
---------------------
The Bed. Zoika. Waiting Bliss
A bed. Zoika. Happiness waits.
But Ivan still delays his fate.
The white horse went to butcher’s hall,
The “knight” drinks kvass and plays the fool.
---------------------
Ivan and the Vanished Tale
A bed. Zoika. Joy awaits.
But Ivan never comes to gates.
The white horse — gone, turned into meat,
The “knight” drinks kvass and thinks he’s elite.
---------------------
The Foolish Knight
Zoika waits, the bed is set,
Ivan hasn’t shown up yet.
The white steed is no longer free —
It fed the hungry butcher’s knee.
The “brave knight,” with empty pride,
Sips his kvass and dreams beside.
---------------------
The Cat Won’t Wait
The cat won’t wait — he’s not a fool,
He leaves the house by nature’s rule.
He finds a mate, he finds his way,
And lives the life of every day.
The poet, though, guards every line,
His only offspring — words divine.
No little heirs, no family tree —
The bloodline fades and ceases to be.
---------------------
The Cat Knows Better
The cat won’t wait — he’s not insane,
He walks outside through sun and rain.
He finds a kitten, finds his mate,
And does not leave his line to fate.
The poet only guards his rhyme,
His verses are his only time.
No offspring comes, no branch survives —
The family ends, the poem lives.
---------------------
Cat and Poet
The cat won’t wait —
He knows his fate.
He walks outside,
Finds love, not pride.
The poet stays,
Protects his phrase.
No heirs are born —
The line is gone.
---------------------
The Revolutionary Circle
Masha. Pasha. Secret meeting.
Vodka flowing, herring greeting.
In the middle — plates and chatter,
While the “program” is just wrapper.
Promises in shining cover,
Dreams that hide the truth forever.
The world spins in a mad disguise —
A turned-around, absurd surprise.
---------------------
The Revolutionaries’ Club
Masha. Pasha. Gathering. Vodka.
Herring sitting in the center.
The program — just a paper cover,
A mad world turned upside over.
---------------------
A Revolutionary Gathering
Masha and Pasha meet at night,
With vodka there and herring’s bite.
The grand manifesto, proudly shown,
Is just a wrapper, empty and blown.
The world they promise, bright and new,
Turns upside down before it’s through.
---------------------
People — Worlds?
Worlds? Or heaps of mental haze,
Endless clutter, endless maze.
Awareness fades and disappears —
No inner skies, no higher spheres.
Everywhere the collapse takes place,
A singularity of mind and space.
And this strange shrinking, dull and small,
They simply call “normal” after all.
---------------------
Humans — Worlds?
Worlds? Just clutter in the head,
Thoughts collapsing, reason dead.
Consciousness has lost its way,
Fading into common gray.
Everywhere — a sudden fall,
A singularity swallowing all.
This final state of mind’s deformity
They proudly name: “normality.”
---------------------
Worlds?
Worlds?
Or mental dust?
Chaos inside,
Awareness lost.
Every mind
Collapses silently —
Into the thing
Called “normality.”
---------------------
The Rhythm Flywheel
The flywheel spun — it missed its mark,
Went somewhere else into the dark.
Yet what appeared a failed attempt
Became a treasure, finely kept.
Rhythm is flight, a soaring stream,
While thoughts are clouds in a slower dream.
The mind moves on at a crawling pace,
But rhythm rarely loses the race.
---------------------
The Flywheel of Rhythm
The flywheel slipped — a little too far,
Missed the target, missed the star.
But then it showed a better way:
Rhythm is flight, the mind’s delay.
Thoughts are clouds that slowly move,
Drifting through their endless groove.
Rhythm runs where thoughts may fall —
Rarely missing, passing all.
---------------------
Rhythm’s Wheel
The wheel spun wild,
Missed the goal.
Found instead
A deeper whole.
Rhythm flies.
Thoughts crawl slow.
Clouds of mind
Drift below.
Rhythm’s arrow
Finds its way —
Rarely falls
Into delay.
---------------------
Resonance Within
Not outside — not within,
Seek the resonance you’re in.
Care for only this alone,
Not for masks the world has shown.
With what does it truly agree?
That is not our aim to see.
For the world’s own resonance
Binds us in its chains of tense.
---------------------
Find the Resonance
Not outside.
Not inside.
Find the resonance
Where you reside.
Seek no other
Aim or sign —
Only that vibration
Deep inside.
With what it joins —
Do not pursue.
The world’s own resonance
Whips all through.
---------------------
The Inner Tone
Not without.
Not within.
Find the tone
That lives therein.
Guard the resonance,
Nothing more.
Leave the world
Outside the door.
What it binds to,
Do not chase.
Worldly resonance —
A field of mace.
---------------------
The Possibility of the Impossible
The impossible becomes the real,
Beyond the limits we can feel.
From boundaries into boundless space,
The world of forms dissolves its face.
The mind and choice no longer stand,
No longer rule the shifting land.
To Nowhere-Never, bold and free,
Go, crawl, or fly — just let it be.
Though no road leads to where you go,
Beyond all maps, beyond all flow.
---------------------
Nowhere-Never
A chance within impossibility,
From the limit to infinity.
The complexity of the Seen
Fades away, no longer keen.
Mind and choice are left behind,
No more chains upon the mind.
To Nowhere-Never, dare to move:
Crawl or fly, or simply prove —
Though there is no path to trace,
Still you enter boundless space.
---------------------
No Path
Impossible — yet possible.
Beyond the edge, beyond the whole.
The visible dissolves away.
Mind and choice no longer sway.
To Nowhere.
To Never.
Be brave.
Walk.
Crawl.
Fly.
No road exists.
Yet go.
---------------------
The Field Beyond Distinction
The field where all distinctions cease
Is not a field, nor realm of peace.
For chasing it, the mind may fall
Into the madness beyond all.
Something continues, flows unseen,
Beyond the places we have been.
Yet you will never enter there
If you pursue it with a stare.
---------------------
The Field of No Distinction
The field where differences disappear
Is not a field — beware, beware.
One may descend into absurdity
By seeking boundless unity.
Something simply carries on,
A silent flow from dusk to dawn.
But you can never find its trace
If you pursue that timeless space.
---------------------
No Distinction
No field.
No border.
No divide.
Seek it —
And you step outside.
Something flows,
Something stays.
Yet you cannot
Reach that place.
For the seeker
Creates the way —
And loses it
By seeking day.
---------------------
No Tale More Sad Exists Below
No tale more tragic under the sun...
A worthless girl, a reckless one.
Her title screams a vulgar name,
Her ending — sorrow, loss, and shame.
The final chapter, cold and stark:
A fool’s own wife, condemned to dark.
---------------------
A Tragic Tale
A rotten young maiden,
With a shameful title named.
The ending brings sorrow —
A fool’s wife is claimed.
---------------------
The Saddest Story
No tale more tragic can be found,
No deeper sorrow shakes the ground.
A silly girl begins the play,
With vulgar fame to mark her way.
And when the final curtain falls —
She’s wed to one who never calls.
---------------------
Zero Phase
Zero phase — a trance, a fall,
A state beyond the mind and all.
The rhythm’s roar begins to rise,
Generating words from inner skies.
Words are woven into the beat,
Wild Lyre’s algorithm — complete.
---------------------
Phase Zero
Phase zero. Trance. Suspension.
Rhythm wakes in new dimension.
Words arise, a flowing stream,
Layered on the pulse of dream.
Over rhythm, words ignite —
The mad Lyre’s algorithmic flight.
---------------------
Lyre Algorithm
Zero phase.
Trance.
Collapse.
Rhythm hums —
The words relapse.
Born from pulse,
From endless rhyme,
The Wild Lyre
Computes its time.
---------------------
Beer. Life Passes By
Beer in hand — life slips away,
By the screen he wastes the day.
Vasya Pupkin, frozen there,
Cheers for “Spartak” without a care.
A servant crowd, a borrowed fight,
Chasing someone else’s might.
A goal — a slave’s brief spark of grace,
A tiny freedom in its place.
A clever pass, a moment bright —
A little relief from endless night.
Beer tastes good, the world feels near...
Then disappears another year.
---------------------
Beer and the Screen
Beer. Life passes. Gone away.
Vasya watches night and day.
By the screen he shouts and roars,
For “Spartak” and borrowed wars.
A goal — a servant’s small release,
A moment’s dream of inner peace.
A perfect pass, a skillful move —
The only thing that makes him groove.
Beer is tasty. That is all.
While his own life starts to fall.
---------------------
The Goal
Beer. The screen. The wasted years.
A stranger’s triumph, borrowed cheers.
Vasya lives through someone’s game,
A nameless crowd, a hollow name.
A goal becomes the slave’s delight,
A spark of freedom burning bright.
One perfect pass — a fleeting sign.
Beer is good. Forget the decline.
---------------------
Cracking at the Seams — Rotten Bedlam
(Cycle of Miniatures — Part I)
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
To the Pen — the beasts,
To Hell — the fools’ dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
WHO stands frozen still —
Fake brew for the herds’ whims.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear and media noise —
The end of the weaklings’ dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Media drums beat loud —
A trance for foolish crowds.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Nonsense is our gift,
Only scoundrels rise and drift.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Freedom for the wolves,
Cages for the sheep.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Trust not what you hear —
Trust your hidden dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Half is made of Fear,
Half of Lies that gleam.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Plague-born Bedlam screams.
A scar within the mind,
A choir of Evil’s screams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Misfortune falls on us,
Hellfire feeds the fiends.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
War for the neighbors —
Shame for Russian dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Burdens for the donkeys,
Obedience for the lambs.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fake stuff for the bodies,
Fear and lies for “minds.”
---
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Fear for false gods,
A gallows world for dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Save yourself alone —
Believe the waking dreams.
---------------------
Cracking at the Seams — Rotten Bedlam
(Cycle of Miniatures — Part II)
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Trust not empty words —
Save yourself from dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Follow not the footprints —
Walk beyond their schemes.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear walks through the nights,
Evil’s shrine by day gleams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear, nonsense, Evil’s choir —
The herd receives its chains.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
A little weakness sold —
And Spirit turns to gold.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
Tea at early mornings,
Rum by evening dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
Lies and Fear for cattle —
Grief for human beings.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
For its own lost children —
Hell awaits their deeds.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
No tears can save the tyrant —
Darkness swallows screams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
A prison for the minds,
A disgrace for Spirit’s dreams.
---
Cracking at the seams,
The Evil Cycle screams.
All locked inside the Pen,
Madness turns the Wheel again.
244 poems
© Copyright: Èãîðü Âûõîâàíåö, 2026
Ñâèäåòåëüñòâî î ïóáëèêàöèè ¹226071600495
Ñâèäåòåëüñòâî î ïóáëèêàöèè ¹226071600495
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