36 poems

The Brigantine of Spirit

A sea of sorrow, cold and wide—
The brigantine casts off the tide.
From crawling beasts we must break free,
And leave their poisoned misery.

Earthly Hell no longer calls;
Only empty echo falls.
Bound for Nowhere—bold and far,
Where no earthly Edens are.

Toward "paradise" the herds are led,
To fenced-off pens where souls lie dead;
Where Mind has fled and Spirit's gone,
Yet still they blindly stumble on.

To Nowhere, leaving Hell behind—
There you prove you're truly kind;
Not a beast that feeds on night,
But a Human—seeking Light.



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The Witches' Brew

Vermin brew the mind to waste,
Feeding sham life, laced with haste.
False contagions flood the air—
Proof enough they're everywhere.

Media now, with tyrant's grin,
Boils delusion deep within.
Madness served as daily stew—
That's the poison forced on you.



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Take Flight!

"Life takes up too much of people's time."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


So much time for "life," you say?
No—survival, day by day!
Wake at last! They grind you down,
Sacrificing Spirit's crown.

Turn within—reject decay,
Leave false living far away.
There, inside, your freedom lies,
Far beyond the fools' disguise.

Very few escape the snare;
Most are trapped in bleak despair.
Lost in Lies and raving fraud,
Earth belongs to beasts abroad.

Freedom gained—the journey starts.
Walk through suffering with heart.
Fly beyond the world of gain,
Or be buried in its chain.

Profit. Falsehood. "Leave me be."
That's this little world's decree.
Slay the fool still caged inside
While your strength has not yet died.

Hear the news: the hour is near.
Global ruin shall appear.
Fascist madness, craven greed—
They have sown the fatal seed.

Then, by force, you'll seek the Soul.
Better choose that path while whole.
Belly, ego, clever brain—
All become a heavy chain.

Weak from birth, the human race
Stumbled through this hollow place.
Now the threshing has begun:
Servants of the dark are done.

One road leads to Hell once more
For the slaves who darkness bore;
One returns unto the Source—
Choose your path with all your force.

Wake at last! The Heights still wait;
Don't arrive a day too late.
Mind alone will never fly—
Spread your Spirit's wings... and rise!



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Choose the Self

Choose your Self—not hide nor skin—
In mass-culture steeped in sin.
Nonsense, Evil, loud display—
That's the price they're glad to pay.

Choose your Self, and you won't fall
With the crumbling of it all.
Through decay and restless strife,
Rise beyond this sham of life.

Mind beneath the Spirit's reign—
That is you, both true and plain.
All around, the herds remain...
Few withstand corruption's stain.

Tempered in this world's decay,
Most have thrown themselves away;
Yet the ones whose Spirits see
Keep their inner kingdom free.



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The Vow

Verse comes with ease;
Thought bears the weight.
Its tangled trees
Conceal our fate.

The mind sinks low
In oceans of Lies.
Don't feed its flow—
Seek where Truth lies.

Learn through the Heart;
The poem's your guide.
Knowledge can part
The Soul from inside,

When Spirit's not
The one who leads.
Then sight is naught,
Nor hearing heeds.

The Third Eye's flame—
Perception's king—
Beholds the whole
In one swift wing.

It spends but slight
Strength of the Soul,
Yet floods with Light
The hidden Whole.

Awake and see:
The times are grim.
One path shall be
Salvation's hymn.

Return Sourceward—
The only way.
There God appears,
Not words to say,

Nor chains of thought,
Nor scholar's art,
But sudden Light
That fills the heart.

One flash—and all
Delusion dies.
This world itself
Is woven Lies.

Say "No!" to it,
And to the mind
That clings to dust,
Remaining blind.

Through noise and storm,
Through profit's snare,
Return unto
The Source laid bare.

Forsake all gain.
Let Spirit prove.

This is the Vow.



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Trust the Beast!

Trust the Beast! Throw wide the door
To rot and fear forevermore.
Feed the Lie with eager cheer,
Silence conscience, dull your fear.

Chain your Spirit, choke your mind;
Leave your honor far behind.
Then the beasts will call you kin—
Half a man, half beast within.



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Believe the Beast

Believe the Beast! Unbar the gate
To fear, decay, corrupted fate.
Nurse each lie till truth has fled;
Let your Soul be left for dead.

Cripple mind and conscience too,
Break the Spirit born in you.
Then the monsters claim their heir:
Half a human—half a bear.



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Word Manure

A million useless words are strewn—
Cheap consolation for the doomed.
Instead of roses, gifts they bring:
A flood of verbal fertilizing.

Feed Bedlam with that endless flow,
And rank stupidity will grow;
Unbent by every storm and gale,
It always thrives, it never fails.

"The tempest veils the darkened sky..."
Yet something greater lurks nearby:
Not storms, but Folly lays the frame—
And builds the Global Camp of Shame.



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Compost of Words

A million words no one will need—
Donkey's comfort, empty feed.
Roses? No. A foul excess:
Verbal diarrhea—mess.

Spread that compost far and wide,
Foolishness will bloom with pride.
Though the fiercest tempests roar,
Madness only grows the more.

"Storm clouds shroud the sky..." they cry.
No—the fools themselves comply.
Folly, nursed by Lies absurd,
Builds the Global Camp—word by word.



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The Architecture of Madness

The structure of Delusion:
One fatal, blind conclusion—
You'll never grasp the whole
Without the beasts' true goal.

Their motives must be known;
Their harvest must be shown.
Until their aims are read,
All reason walks with dread.



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Normalized Madness

How Madness comes to be?
Its hidden masonry.
Without the beasts' design,
No clue reveals the line.

Trace every twisted thread,
Or Truth itself has fled.
The mask will never fall
Till motives tell it all.



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From Baikal to Glamour

"We'll build a mighty highway grand!"
What a marvel—devils planned!
Once again the liar's cry:
"Sacred bonds!" their battle-cry.

Those "traditions" drive the fools
Eastward, marching by the rules.
New F;hrer, another "Heil!"—
Same old madness, different tale.



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Baikal to Glamour

"We'll pave the road!" the boasters yell.
"Quite a wonder!"—straight from Hell.
Once again the liar preaches,
Binding fools with hollow speeches.

"Sacred values!"—that's the bait;
Off they march to meet their fate.
New F;hrer, a fresh "Heil!" rings—
History repeats such things.



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The Hardest Path

The hardest way
Through murk and fray.
Do not dismay
When Truth turns gray.

Stay wide awake.
Though losses bite,
They're small—let go,
And seek the Light.



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The Highest Road

The hardest trail
Through dread and veil.
Do not bewail
When Truth grows pale.

Remain aware.
The wound is slight—
Forget the hurt,
Keep Spirit bright.



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Through Gloom

The hardest road
Through gloom untold.
Be not dismayed
When Truth must fade.

Stay fully aware.
The loss is slight—
Release it all...
And walk toward Light.



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Freedom... Again

Freedom... once more.
Or only words?
The chains return—
Nothing unheard.

The shackles change,
Yet stay the same;
Each "new beginning"
Ends in the chain.



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Freedom?

Freedom... once more.
Or empty lore?
The chains return—
As oft before.



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The Same Old Song

Freedom again...
Or merely words?
The chains return—
Nothing unheard.

Each age proclaims
A brand-new dawn;
The shackles shine,
Yet still live on.



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Only This Way

Through ruin, squalor, ash and stain,
You struggle onward all your days.
And what remains for all your pain?
"Experience"... "wisdom"... wrapped in haze.

A slime of fear, obedient minds,
Of ready-made and borrowed thought;
The easiest prison one can find—
Believe the lies you've long been taught.

A life made "easy" by decay,
By shrinking Soul till nothing's left.
Convenience becomes the way,
And Spirit dies of silent theft.

Awake! Behold this earthly Hell,
Before the point of no return.
The debt is one you'll pay as well,
If year by year to Evil bend.

Turn inward. Question. Stand apart.
That is the only living Road.
When you perceive with mind and heart
How Lies repeat their heavy load—

Their murk, their horror, endless schemes—
You'll cease to seek outside the key.
The answers rise from deeper streams,
Where Spirit guards what makes you free.

Destroy the mountains built of Lies
That clutter up your inner land.
Let fear and slavish habits die;
Refuse the tyrant's cold command.

Then Light appears, and Truth breaks through,
While inner rot is left behind.
The first great step is clear to you:
Say "No!" to Darkness in your mind.

Forget the bargains, smooth and sweet,
They've hurled at you since childhood's dawn.
You are no beast beneath their feet;
This madhouse is not where you belong.

Seek out the Source, the subtle Flame,
The shining thread the Spirit weaves.
Forget the pseudo-life they name,
The fog that every captive breathes.

No promise waits, no sure success,
No easy triumph to be won.
Yet even then your steadfastness
Will mock the rotten world they've spun.

Rise past the mountains built of fraud;
Break through deception's crumbling track.

Only this way.
Only this way.



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Rusting Freedom

Jelly fills the mind at last;
Freedom's "thought" is hammered fast
Into every willing slave,
Like a nail they cannot save.

Let it rust and let it rot—
Soon they'll have no thoughts at all.
In the Madhouse, every plot
Shrinks to "care" for one and all.

Every "cure" is poisoned brew,
Sold as science, pure and true,
Just to make the fool comply—
Living dull, then dumbly die.

Once the world was Sodom's den;
Soon it changes once again.
Not to freedom's promised dome—
But a global Madhouse-home.



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The Nail

Aspic hardens in the brain;
Freedom's "thought" becomes a chain.
Driven like a rusty nail,
Fixed inside the captive's jail.

Rust will spread and thoughts will cease;
Madness grows by slow degrees.
Nothing left to talk about—
Only "viruses" passed about.

Quacks prescribe their toxic swill:
"Take your dose—it's for your health."
Best obedient, dull and still,
Dead in mind before in flesh.

Once it looked like Sodom's reign;
Soon a Madhouse will remain.



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Wretched World

A wretched little world indeed,
Where Lies and Fear and Profit breed.
Rise far above its poisoned fog—
And you'll become... almost a god.



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Filthworld

A filthy world of fear and Lies,
Where profit reigns and Spirit dies.
If you can rise beyond its spell,
You're half-divine—and free as well.



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Rise Above

A vile, corrupted little sphere,
Where Lies and Profit rule through Fear.
Rise higher than its dark fa;ade—
And you'll become a demigod.



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Kingdom of Stuff

Kingdom built on clothes and food—
Everywhere the strangling brood.
Boys grew old before their prime,
Snared one finger at a time.



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The Consumer Kingdom

Realm of fashion, endless meals—
Every smile a tightening steel.
Boys turned old while chasing more,
Caught like hooks forevermore.



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The Kingdom of Stuff

The Kingdom of Stuff, of clothes and feed—
A thousand little boas breed.
The boys grew old before their day,
Their fingers caught and worn away.



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Realm of Stuff

Realm of clothes and endless chow—
Tiny boas rule it now.
Boys grow old before their time,
Snagged by trifles, one by one, in line.



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A Trickle

Instinct comes
In just a stream;
Folly floods
Like a raging dream.

Frown or laugh—
It changes naught:
Stupidity
Will doom the world.



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The Flood

Insight trickles,
Thin and slow;
Folly surges,
Overflow.

Scowl or grin—
It makes no odds:
Human foolishness
Will bury us.



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A Trickle of Truth

A trickle of instinct,
A torrent of fools.
Mock it or fear it—
The outcome still rules.

Frown if you wish,
Or laugh at the show:
Mindless stupidity
Brings Earth down below.



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Intuition trickles thin;
Folly pours in mighty streams.
Frown or laugh—it changes nothing:
Stupidity destroys the Earth.



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Blockheads

Blockheads like corks—
Dense to the core;
Sneaks everywhere,
Rotting the floor.

Fools by the thousands,
Vicious and blind;
Forests of idiots
Choke humankind.



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Morons

Morons like stoppers—
Thick as can be.
Scumbags are swarming
Like one rotten sea.

Everywhere dimwits,
Base to the bone—
Forests of fools
Have wildly grown.



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Forests of Fools

Jerks like corks—
Thick as a brick.
Scumbags abound,
Greasy and slick.

Everywhere dullards,
Vile to the core;
Forests of idiots—
Growing once more.