Никуда я не иду, Degradation

Подлогов много: ерунда
Так проникает без труда.



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Духа Сфера не химера,
Только не для пионера.




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Позабыв былые склоки,
Новые затеем мы:
Вновь дела из рук вон плохи
Средь Безумной Кутерьмы.




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Никуда я не иду:
Славу рабскому труду
Никогда не пел. Терпел
Мерзость, Тупость как умел,
Быв в Бедламе не у дел.




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Сволочуга не подруга —
Клещ, что впился и сосёт
Деньги, силы. Узы туго
ЖизДнь стянули. Счастье ждёт
В браке только идиот.



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— Что есть искусство?
— Гнилые чувства:
Изъятья — редко;
Бьют ЧУШЬЮ метко.



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Кот — тьма хлопот:
Достал урод!
Во двор идёт.
В дом — хавчик ждёт.
Не идиот —
Пускай живёт:
Двуногий сброд
С ума сведёт...




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Чудо-юдо,
Не паскуда,
Чернью правит.
Дурень славит
Строй любой:
СМРАДов вой
Помогает —
Оглупляет,
Разлагает,
Опускает.
Разум тает...




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— What is art?
— Rotten emotion,
With rare exceptions —
Pure trash, delivered with precision.



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Degradation

We grow more stupid, day by day —
Or is that how the BEASTS hold sway?
We dare not probe, descend, explore;
Fake culture stamps out thought once more.
“Progress” — the name they give the press
Of pseudo-science, pseudo-art;
Sweet nothings smother all distress,
And dull the mind and deaden heart.
They drown the urge to question things,
Intuition, distance from the slime;
The ostrich creed its madness brings —
And rules the world from age to time.
“Progress” finishes what remains
Of thought and Soul, already torn;
The fool in lies and falsehood reigns,
A weapon Darkness wields with scorn.
Wake up! Strip off the world's disguise,
Tear every ornament away!
They turn the mob to cattle — wise
In meek submission, day by day.
The Mind beneath the Spirit's reign —
That is the only way to cease
Degradation's long, relentless chain.
Yet lies and madness never cease:
Perhaps only a final crash
Can save the Spirit from the rot —
A Pyrrhic triumph in the ash,
A price no victory can blot.
Armageddon's march began long ago;
The Sun shines brighter, kills the night.
Each soul must answer for the show —
No slick excuse can dodge the light.
For lies, all-reaching, sickening, old,
Have held this world for centuries,
To breed obedient slaves, controlled
By fear — the fool's own shackled knees.
We grow more stupid, blind to see
How lies and fear, year after year,
Consume the world relentlessly,
And turn to dust what once was here.
Mind UNDER Spirit — seek your shore;
No other refuge can remain.
At times, it slows the rot's grim course,
While herds march blind through Hell again.
The Spirit's world is for the few,
When BEASTS have passed their age of pain.
The herds believe salvation's due —
Yet Hell will be their home to reign.



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The Spirit's Realm is no chimera —
Just not for every young pioneer!



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A Cat — All That Fuss!

That cat’s a pain —
That little bane!
Out in the yard,
Back in for chow.
Not dumb at all —
Let the beast prowl!
Two-legged fools
Would drive him mad!



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I go nowhere — I refuse
To sing the glory of slave-work's dues.
I never praised that servile grind;
I bore the filth, the fools, resigned,
In Bedlam, useless to their kind.



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Doom as the Basis of Long-Term Planning and the Ultimate Goal of Rule

“Man’s anthropomorphic imagination makes him think of his oppressors as human beings.”
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


God’s an old man, enthroned on high;
The ruler’s just a bastard sly.
For centuries, they’ve blurred our sight —
And DOOM’s the goal that crowns their might!

Man cannot make the truth his guide,
So tyrants flourish, fat with pride.
The greater lawless power they wield,
The more their “glory” stands revealed.

The DEMIURGE spawned filth and blight;
The inhuman fiend’s the Devil’s site foreman.
Fools trust myths, though time has shown
How feeble thought has steadily grown—

No! Thought has withered, Spirit’s suppressed,
While EVIL hunts it without rest.
The mass media spew their lies —
The BEASTS’ eternal triumph cries!



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Frauds abound, and fools abound —
So nonsense slips in, safe and sound.



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Forget the quarrels of the past —
New ones are brewing, unsurpassed!
Once more, all’s going down the drain,
Amid this mad, chaotic game!



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A snake in love is no true friend —
A bloodsucking tick that will not end!
It drains your cash, your strength, your breath,
And binds your life in knots of death.
Only fools wed bliss till death!



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A Sort of Flood

The dam will break —
The herd will wake
To doom, to fate,
Too little, too late!

For now, the fool
Is trained like a mule,
Turned into cattle,
Unfit for battle.

Yet fools still dream,
Still trust the scheme,
Still stumble in lies,
And summon the skies
To drown them all —
A flood, a downfall!

Not by thought, no —
Their essence says so.
When the pen gets tight,
Seek refuge inside!
Don't blame me, don't cry:
Turn outward — and die
As a lesser breed,
A slave to its need.

The subtypes of Reason,
In a world gone insane,
All march in one season
To slaughter, to pain.

CowID has shown
The Darkness enthroned.
You're lost if you fail
To find your own trail
Of Light within —
Or darkness will win.

Arbitrary power
Grows stronger each hour;
The BEASTS grow bolder,
More vicious, more colder.

So venture within,
While the candle burns thin.
Dig deep in your soul —
Before darkness takes all!



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Monster-Miracle

Wonder-beast,
Not the least
Of scum, yet rules
The witless fools.

Fools applaud
Any fraud;
Media cries
Hypnotize,

Rot the brain,
Feed the stain,
Drag us low —
Thoughts melt like snow...







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