Изучение, Researches

"Законы", правозахоронители и чиновничья сволочь

Трусы сидят,
"Нормы" не бдят =>
И "конституция"
Как ПРОСТИТУЦИЯ.




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"И вновь продолжается бой" —
За "славу", бабло и "успехи".
В нём трудно остаться собой,
Но ЗНАТНЫЕ все... пустобрехи.




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"Изучение"

"Изучают глубину, кидая в неё камни".
Станислав Ежи Лец.

"Изучая" Глубину,
Тралы устремят ко дну,
И проложат субмарины
Путь доставки бомб, зарина.




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"Единая Россия":
"Единства" закуток —
Продажные-тупые.
ВСЕ отбывают срок...




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"Выживания" программу
Запускаю, вот дела!
Нужно быть прожжённым хамом,
Чтоб не сдохнуть в Мире Зла. 




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Идиоты — на работЫ.
В напряжении сексоты.
А продажные уроды
Типа правят, бдя расходы.
Сокращаются подачки
Для рабов — нельзя иначе.
Быть вне тварей днесь удача.




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Мои "други" — сволочуги:
Непрерывные потуги
Поиметь бабло, стараясь
Неприметным быть, не каясь.
Каяться в ТЕРПЕНЬИ мало —
Нужно ДЕЛО, не пропала
Чтоб душа через продажность,
Ум не впал в маразм. Ничтожность
"Отношений" очевидна:
Одиночкой будь — так ВИДНО
Много больше, также тоньше
Ум, а Дух — вне ТВАРЕЙ слуг.




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Наступление рашизма

"Санитарная зона" —
На концерте Кобзона.
А "победа" — фантазмом:
Обернётся МАРАЗМОМ.




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Ушёл в раскрутку, стих похерив,
Открывши ОДИЧАНЬЮ двери:
Ты дик, когда в тебя проник
"Успеха" вирус. Стих же — пшик.



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Какая логика?!
Лишь "педагогика"!!!
Подлог — "реальность":
Сплошь ИНФЕРНАЛЬНОСТЬ,




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Нет Крика...

Удавка жизДни плотно сжала
Больное горло — только сип
Заместо Крика, а Душа пропала,
Когда в МОЛЧАНИЕ ты влип.



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Гоголь-моголь из Маразма,
Страхов, Лжи, Тьмы Вековой,
Исполнения приказов —
Мир не дружит с головой...




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Обосралась Тьма —
Сплошь напор Дерьма;
Нет почти "ума":
Это жизДнь сама...




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Survival mode — here we go!
What a life, what things to do!
You must turn into a scoundrel
Just to make it through the Evil World.



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I launch my “Survival” program —
Here’s the deal, and here’s the law:
You must be a ruthless bastard
Not to perish in this world of flaw.



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“Survival” mode — I’m switching on;
That’s the rule I must obey:
Be a bastard, cold and shameless,
Or be crushed by Evil’s way.



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A noggin-noggin made of madness,
Fear and lies and ancient night,
Blind obedience to orders —
What a world that’s lost its mind...



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Eggnog brewed from sheer dementia,
Fear and darkness, lies of old,
Blindly carrying out commands —
What a world gone mad and cold...



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Eggnog stirred from mass delusion,
Fear and lies and age-old gloom,
Orders followed without question —
Madness fills the world’s great room.



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“United Russia”:
A “Unity” prison block —
The stupid and the crooked,
All serving out their term...



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“United Russia”:
A “Unity” little cell —
Where fools and crooks dwell,
All serving out their sentence
In this peculiar hell.



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“Laws,” Rights-Buriers, Bureaucratic Scum

Cowards sit still,
While “norms” go downhill —
And the “Constitution”
Turns into Prostitution.



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“Laws,” Rights-Buriers, Bureaucratic Scum

Cowards just sit,
While “norms” give up the bit —
And the “Constitution”
Is merely Prostitution.



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“And still the battle rages on” —
For “glory,” riches, “success” and fame.
It’s hard to stay the self you were,
Yet all the “great” are fools in name.



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“And still the battle carries on” —
For “glory,” cash and “great success.”
It’s hard to keep your soul intact,
While “nobles” babble emptiness.



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“And still the battle carries on” —
For “glory,” bucks and “great acclaim.”
It’s hard to stay yourself at all —
Yet “noble” fools all play the game.



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Idiots — off to work they go.
Snitches sweat in tension’s glow.
And the filthy, bought-out freaks
“Rule” the realm and count the leaks.
Handouts shrink for slaves below —
There’s no other way to go.
Lucky those who stand apart
From the beasts that rule the chart.



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Idiots — go to work today!
Snitches sweat the hours away.
And the bought and rotten lot
“Rule” the realm and guard the pot.
Handouts shrink for slaves in need —
There is no escape, indeed.
Lucky those who still can flee
The beasts of this society.



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"Researches"

“They study depth by casting stones
Into its dark and silent zones.”
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


To “study” Depth, they probe below,
With trawlers dragging to and fro;
Then submarines descend unseen
To pave a path for bombs — and sarin.



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"Researches"

“They study depth by throwing stones
Into its dark and silent zones.”
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


To “study” Depth, they scrape the floor,
While submarines prepare for war;
They chart a route beneath the brine
For bombs — and deadly sarin.



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What logic?!
Just “pedagogy”!!!
A forged “reality”:
Pure INFERNALITY!



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What logic?!
“Pedagogy”!!!
A fake “reality” —
Pure INFERNALITY!



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The Advance of Rashism

A “Sanitary Zone” —
At the Kobzon concert.
And “victory”? Just a phantasm —
Soon to rot into MADNESS.



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Rashism on the March

A “Sanitary Zone” —
Kobzon’s concert, set in stone.
And “victory” — a fantasy,
That ends in sheer INSANITY.



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No Scream...

Life’s noose has tightened hard
Around a throat already sore —
No cry escapes, just one hoarse breath,
For when Silence traps the Soul, there’s nothing more.



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There Is No Cry...

Life’s noose is squeezing tight,
A sickened throat can only wheeze;
The Soul has vanished into night
When Silence brings you to your knees.



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Darkness has shat itself —
A flood of shit, shelf by shelf;
Hardly any wit in sight:
That’s what passes for Life tonight...



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Darkness has shat itself:
Shit pours down from every shelf.
There’s no “reason” left in sight —
This is "Life" itself, all right...



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My “friends” are scoundrels, every one,
Forever scheming, never done,
Chasing cash while trying hard
To pass unnoticed, play their part.
Repentance? Patience? Not enough —
You need ACTION, not mere bluff,
Lest through corruption, bought and sold,
Your Soul should die, your Mind grow old.

The worth of “friendships” soon is clear:
Walk alone — and you can hear
A sharper Mind, a finer view,
While Spirit stays beyond the crew.



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My “friends” are bastards, every one,
Their endless schemes are never done:
They chase the cash, yet hide away,
Pretending innocence each day.
Patience and repentance? Small —
You need ACTION, or you fall!
Save your Soul from being sold,
Keep your Mind from turning cold.

The “bond” between us? Plain to see:
Better to walk alone and free.
The Mind grows sharper, deeper too,
And Spirit leaves the beasts behind —
and breaks right through.



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You chased promotion, wrecked the verse,
And opened doors to something worse:
You’re wild once that virus gets in —
The “success” bug makes poetry thin.



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You hyped yourself — the verse was lost,
And let pure madness bear the cost.
You’re wild when “Success” gets its kick —
The poem fades to nothing: click!



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You chased the hype and killed the rhyme,
And opened doors to madness prime:
You’re wild when “Success” infects your brain —
The poem? Just a puff of air again.







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