Смена Господствующей Чуши, The Changing Reign of N

Иносказанье — наказанье:
Руби стихом как топором,
Иначе ты в Фашисткой Срани
Помрёшь "как все" — тупым рабом.




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Деурбанизация Киева

Из СМРАДа червь вновь срёт в мозги —
Вновь верят тварям дураки:
Им надо только новый термин
Впендюрить — в этом доки черви.



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Живём в НОРМАЛЬНОМ МИРЕ,
А кто трындит о Тире,
Бедламе иль Сортире,
Лишь в прошлом "вольнодумец",
Днесь БОЛЬШИНСТВУ — безумец.



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Среда жестокая, тупая,
Но чурка что-то ожидает —
То ли обещанного рая,
Толь Сатанизма Урожая.




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Шествующий Армагеддец и Служение Музе

Писать стихи под "вечность" —
Кобылы сивой бред:
В исходе человечность —
Осталось мало лет.

А потому Мерзоту
Осталось лишь крушить,
Пусть похуй идиотам
Стихи. Лишь Музе смысл служить.


Вариант. Осталось лишь клеймить




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_Враже в раже => идиоты
Верят _ТВАРЯМ: на работЫ!



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Смена Господствующей Чуши

Не ребёнок — пионер;
Не подросток — комсомолец:
Мерзость ставилась в  пример.
А что ныне? Богомолец.




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Говномёт не огнемёт —
Поражение побольше:
СМРАДам верит идиот,
А прослойка умных тоньше.




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Сезон смертей
Для нелюдей
Когда начнётся? —
Земля очнётся...




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Растворились отношения
В Море Пошлой Суеты...
Лишь Духовные Свершения
Соль не тронет. И "киты"...




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Enraged by foes, the fools obey —
The BEASTS command: “Get to work! Away!”



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Frenzied Foes — What a Sight!
Trust the BEASTS — march off to fight!



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The Bullshit Gun’s no Flamethrower —
Its blast can hit much more:
The IDIOT trusts the media,
While the WISE grow fewer than before.



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De-Urbanizing Kyiv

The media worm once more shits in their brains,
And fools trust the vermin that feed them their claims.
They only need one shiny term to insert —
That’s all that the media worms are expert!

Alternative version of the last line:
New terms are the worms’ only proven expertise.



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We Live in a NORMAL World

We live in a NORMAL world —
So says the crowd, all neatly curled.
Who calls it Bedlam, Hell or Mire
Was once a freethinker — now a liar,
A MADMAN to the MAJORITY entire.



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What a Viable System Needs

_Envy, _stupidity, _greed and _sale —
That’s how the systems thrive.
Add _corruption to the scale:
The _IDIOT must survive.

But let _Honesty and Courage,
Let _Kindness have their say —
Then INCOMPETENCE becomes
A bomb that won’t decay,

Destroying all the “BRIGHT IDEAS”
That dared to cross its way.
The DUMBER and the MEANER —
The more FEAR will make them stay.

A “NEW” system has a chance
To plant itself and grow:
Put “KINDNESS” in the memes,
Then pour the syrup slow.

Pour it on the WORTHLESS —
Everything’s okay:
Just give them “BREAD AND CIRCUSES,”
And dumb them every day.

Each day the world grows DUMBER,
Each day a little MEANER
From attacks like these — but soon
It all will look much CLEANER.

It will all be “STABILIZED,”
Once the lies have reached their peak:
One more avalanche of fiction —
And the SYSTEM’s “strong” and sleek.



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Speak in Plain Blows

A metaphor’s a punishment —
So swing your verse like an axe;
Or in this FASCIST SHITHOLE
You’ll die like all the rest — a slave.



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In the Sea of Vain Affair

Our ties dissolved and drifted
In the Sea of Vain Affair...
Only SPIRITUAL DEEDS endure —
The SALT can't touch them there.
And the “WHALES” still rise from depths
Where lesser things decay...



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Season of Death

Season of death
For the inhuman —
When will it start?
When Earth wakes at last.



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The Changing Reign of Nonsense

No longer a child — a PIONEER;
No longer a teen — a KOMSOMOL;
They held up filth as something dear.
And now? A WORSHIPPER plays the role!



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A Brutal, Stupid World

A brutal world, a stupid place,
Yet some dumb fool still waits in hope —
For promised Heaven’s shining grace,
Or Satan’s harvest at the end of the rope.



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A Brutal, Stupid World

A brutal world, a stupid place,
Yet some dull blockhead waits in vain —
For promised Heaven’s saving grace,
Or Satan’s harvest, black as pain.



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A Brutal, Stupid World

A brutal world, a stupid scene —
Yet some WOODEN FOOL awaits:
A promised Paradise serene,
Or Satan’s harvest at the gates.



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The Marching Armageddon and Service to the Muse

To write your poems for “ETERNITY” —
A gray mare’s madness, sheer and stark:
When HUMANKIND is doomed to fade,
There’s little time left in the dark.

So all that’s left is smashing
The VILENESS in its lair;
Let IDIOTS not give a damn —
The MUSE is what we serve with care.

For poems are not for fools to praise,
Nor made for their delight:
They’re forged to strike the darkness down —
And serve the MUSE through every fight.



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MANIFESTO OF DIFFICULT SKILLS


We live in an age when the right to do something has become more important than the skill to do it.

Everyone has the right to write poetry.

Everyone has the right to paint.

Everyone has the right to compose music.

Everyone has the right to speak.

That is normal.

But it does not follow that all results are equal.

A difficult skill begins where desire stops being enough.

Wanting is not enough.

Feeling is not enough.

Having an opinion is not enough.

You must master the craft.

Rhythm takes work.

Rhyme takes work.

A musical ear takes work.

Composition takes work.

Language takes work.

Years take work.

Democracy gives everyone the right to participate.

But it does not abolish mastery.

A person has the right to play the violin badly.

No one is obliged to call it virtuosity.

A person has the right to write without rhythm.

No one is obliged to call it the summit of poetry.

A person has the right to break the rules.

But breaking a rule means something only when the rule itself exists.

The disappearance of difficult skills never begins with a ban.

It begins with devaluation.

First they say:

“It isn't necessary.”

Then:

“It isn't important.”

Then:

“That is elitist.”

Then:

“That is outdated.”

And finally:

“Why learn it at all?”

After that, the skill begins to disappear by itself.

No culture rests on freedom of expression alone.

Freedom is necessary.

But freedom is not enough.

Culture rests on respect for difficulty.

On respect for what is hard to master.

On respect for mastery itself.

When the difficult and the easy are declared equal, the easy wins.

Not because it is better.

Because it is cheaper.

It requires less time.

Less effort.

Less discipline.

Less responsibility.

Therefore difficult skills do not need privileges.

They need recognition of the fact that they are difficult.

Metrical verse is harder than a random arrangement of lines.

A fugue is harder than a random sequence of sounds.

A realistic drawing is harder than a random brushstroke.

This is not a matter of taste.

It is a matter of how many constraints have been mastered.

Complexity does not guarantee genius.

But the absence of complexity should not automatically receive the status of mastery.

The future of culture does not depend on how many people can do something.

Technology will soon allow almost everyone to do almost anything.

The real question is:

How many people will want to do something well?

How many will want to learn?

How many will want to overcome the resistance of the material?

How many will want to become masters?

Because civilization is not created by the right to create.

Civilization is created by respect for mastery.

Not freedom from demands.

But the ability to meet them.

Not rejection of complexity.

But mastery of it.

Not comfort.

Not status.

Not approval.

Skill.

Work.

Mastery.

And the willingness to devote years of one’s life to them.







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