Варианты жития, Ways of Life

Река текла — почти в безбрежность.
Оставь тупую к "миру" нежность.
Мирок безумный, потому
Не стоит кланяться Дерьму.




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СЧИТАТЬ, мечтать —
И исчезать.
Очнися, раб, —
Не стоит ждать.



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Верен себе — не верен другим:
Бэкон изрёк в семнадцатый век.
То уважай, стремясь стать ИНЫМ, —
Тьмой изживается человек.



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Ксенобиотик и невротик.
Зомбо-программа, идиотик.
Шизоид, дурень, путиноид.
Понюшки табака мир стоит.



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Одиночество нищего поэта

Хорошо — не на работу!
И стена от идиотов —
Одиночество. Стихи
Для себя — прочь, дураки!




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Варианты жития

Достопочтенный идиот
Тебя в мирке всегда найдёт —
И ничего тебя не ждёт —
Хорошего: в Позор, в расход.




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Мирок летит на всех парах
В Безумье, превращаясь в прах.




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ВЫЖИВАНИЯ проблема —
Нет важней придуркам темы:
Оттого те слепы, немы —
Управляют чернью мемы.




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NOWHERE TO NOWHERE

From Nowhere into Nowhere, 
Marching blind beneath the Lie, 
Shameless, trudging in a row, 
Chasing “Happiness” till they die.

For their toil they hope to gain 
Profit from their endless strain; 
Multiplying, breeding more, 
Betrayal’s guilt ignored once more.

Minds and souls they sell away, 
Just to eat another day. 
Feeding on the counterfeit, 
Swallowing poison, loving it.

Nonsense fed from cradle days, 
Children trapped in its dazed maze. 
No escape from lies’ hypnosis, 
As the monsters spread psychosis.

Through the little world they roam, 
Selling fools their thoughts as “own.” 
“Ideas,” these are proudly named — 
Tools by which the herd is tamed.

Faster than with chains or bars, 
They enslave beneath false stars. 
Old ideas? Just dress them new — 
Change a shade, and push them through.

Millions join the grand charade; 
Thus the perfect slaves are made. 
School and propaganda blend, 
While the gang pulls every string.

Through its programs, orders, cues, 
It dictates what fools shall choose. 
So the evil will stays veiled, 
While the slaves endure, derailed.

How long must they bow to Wrong? 
Till the Great Cataclysm comes? 
Nature holds the rot at bay — 
Fascist filth may have its day.

If the rot is left to grow, 
If the natural forces slow, 
Fascist decay will claim us all, 
As the world descends in thrall.

Ever brighter burns the Sun, 
And the beasts grow more undone; 
Bolder lies and harsher laws — 
They retreat from none of their claws.

All that’s left is time to wait: 
Who will bring down this blind state? 
Soon enough, the truth will show: 
A mad, disgraced world’s final low.



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NOWHERE TO NOWHERE

From Nowhere straight to Nowhere, 
They march beneath the Lie; 
No shame, no doubt, no questions — 
“Be happy!” is their cry.

They toil for empty profit, 
They breed and multiply; 
Betrayal never haunts them, 
Nor ask themselves just why.

They sell their minds and spirits 
For bread to fill the gut; 
They feast on imitation, 
And drink the poison up.

The lies begin in babyhood, 
No child escapes the snare; 
The spell is cast, the mind is dulled, 
The monsters rule the air.

They roam the world, these creatures, 
And sell the fools their thought; 
“Ideas” is the name they give 
To chains that can’t be caught.

They bend the herd far faster 
Than prison bars could do; 
Old lies in fresh disguises — 
And millions swallow new.

The schoolroom and the loudspeakers 
Work hand in hand to mold; 
The gang commands through scripts and cues, 
While minds grow numb and cold.

The will behind the evil 
Stays hidden from the slaves; 
How long will they endure it 
And meekly dig their graves?

Till some Great Cataclysm 
Sweeps all the rot away? 
The filth of Fascism will win 
If Nature’s forces sway.

If Nature falters, slows the cure, 
The rot will spread unchecked; 
The evil will advance once more, 
And all will be wrecked.

The Sun burns ever brighter, 
The beasts grow meaner still; 
Their lies grow bolder by the day, 
Their measures crueller still.

There’s nothing left but waiting 
To see what ends this show: 
Who’ll bring the rabble to its knees? 
Soon all the world will know.

A world gone mad, disgraced, diseased — 
The signs are plain to see. 
The crisis deepens everywhere. 
What will the ending be?


Possible ending:

The Sun burns white. The beasts grow bold. 
Their lies grow vast; their hearts grow cold. 
They tighten chains, they feed the flame — 
And seal their doom in Nature’s name.

No savior comes. No walls endure. 
No throne, no lie, no plague stays pure. 
The rotten world shall reap what’s sown — 
And crumble under weight of its own.

The crash draws near. The end is nigh. 
The mask will fall. The myths will die. 
And when the last foundations go, 
There’s nowhere left to flee — but Nowhere Below.



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WAYS OF LIFE

The venerable fool will find
You in his world, of any kind.
No good awaits you down the road —
Just shame, then slaughter’s final load.



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TRUE TO YOURSELF

True to yourself, but false to the rest —
Bacon declared what time has confessed.
Honor that truth, dare to stand apart:
Darkness devours the human heart.



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DEATH BY CHOICE

This rotten world’s a cesspit, vile;
The REAL one won’t play slave awhile.
Look round — not one untainted day,
No step that doesn’t lead astray.

This world’s hard ground is built on lies,
A slave pen dressed as paradise.
But if you’d live as YOU, be free —
Then fuck them all! Welcome, Death! You see?



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THE SURVIVAL GAME

Survival is their one obsession,
The fools’ supreme and sole possession.
Thus blind and mute, they play their part —
While memes rule minds and herd the heart.



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XENOBIOTIC, NEUROTIC

Xenobiotic, neurotic,
Zombie-programmed, idiotic.
Schizoid, fool, Putin-oid —
The world goes up in smoke, destroyed!



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DREAMS: DARKNESS BAIT

Without a dream, life has no meaning — 
So fools endure their slow declining. 
But every dream’s the first deceiver, 
The madhouse hook that pulls you deeper.

In endless dark, it snares the mind, 
And paints the chains as beauty kind. 
The fool sees loveliness in night, 
And calls his blindness hope and light.

A carrot dangling, dreams lead on, 
The donkey plods till life is gone. 
New toys and trinkets join the show — 
The same old bait, the same old woe.

He drags a cart of filth behind, 
With pretty labels for the blind. 
The rot below wears masks galore; 
The dark sells lies — then sells some more.

Dream not — grow critical, awake! 
See fools uphold the evil’s cycle. 
The age-old sickness grips the whole, 
And dreams betray the captive soul.

Today it’s worse: the modern fool 
Will soon be cattle, tame and ruled. 
Just look at CowID on display — 
A muzzle marks the beast’s new day.

What shame to live inside this madhouse, 
Where human dignity is crushed! 
Turn inward, seek the Quiet Light — 
Not dreams that feed the endless night.

First wake up! Let delusions cease; 
Cast out the lies and fantasies. 
Within, beyond the dark’s control, 
The Silent Light awaits your soul.



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DREAMS: THE BAIT OF NIGHT

Without a dream, life seems in vain; 
So fools embrace their chains and pain. 
But dreams are where delusions start, 
The madhouse hook that snares the heart.

In endless dark, they set the snare, 
Then paint it bright and call it fair. 
The fool sees beauty in the night, 
And worships darkness dressed as light.

A carrot dangles; on they plod, 
The dream-led donkey, whipped by God. 
New toys arrive to feed the game; 
The fool expects his life to change.

He drags a cart of filth and lies, 
With shining labels for the eyes. 
The rot below, concealed from view, 
Wears fancy names and costumes new.

Dream not — wake up! Examine, test! 
See how the fools sustain the pest. 
The ancient plague infects the whole; 
Dreams are its symptoms in the soul.

Today it’s worse: the modern fool 
Will soon become obedient cattle. 
Just look at CowID on display — 
A muzzle marks the beast today.

What shame to dwell in such a sty, 
Where human worth is left to die! 
Turn inward, seek the Quiet Light; 
Cast off the dreams that feed the night.

Wake up! Let all delusions cease; 
Throw out the lies that promise peace. 
Go inward, where the truth shines through — 
The Quiet Light awaits in you.



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The world hurtles, hell-bent, fast —
Into madness, turned to dust at last.



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THE POOR POET’S SOLITUDE

No dreary job to waste the day,
No fools to block my inward way.
Alone, I write my poetry —
Keep out, you fools! Just let me be!



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The river flowed, near endless, free —
Spare this mad world your loyalty.
A world gone mad, sunk deep in grime —
Bow down to shit? Not in my time!



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COUNTING DREAMS

Count, dream, drift out of sight —
Wake up, you slave! Stand up and fight!






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