Виденье без слов, A Wordless Vision

Сгорел моторчик, но накат —
К Оврагу устремился гад.
И путешествию он рад —
Засрал мозги тотальный СМРАД.




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Мелочовки "жития" —
И не станет Бытия.
Сплошь Всеядная Свинья —
Только пища: ТВАРЕЙ для...




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Глупость зашкалена.
Где же проталина?
Нет, всюду лёд —
Злу верный сброд.




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Голос Чутких всё тише и тише...

Царь-колокол, а проще мудозвон, —
Обычный гражданин: звенит, не Слыша.
А повторение в мирке — закон:
Лаб`ают Чушь, а Чутких голос тише...




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Гротеск-бурлеск — безумный всплеск:
Мир-перевёртыш — тёмен "блеск".




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Виденье без слов —
Путь не для ослов:
Называют вьюк
Ношей; пастырь — друг.




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A Wordless Vision

A wordless sight—
Not for fools’ delight.
They call the burden “load”;
The shepherd, friend, and guide.



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Folly reigns supreme—
Where’s a thaw, a gleam?
No! Ice grips the land,
Evil’s faithful band.



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The Sensitive Speak Ever Fainter…

The great bell tolls—or just a fool
Who rings and hears no sound.
The rule repeats: the world’s a school
Where nonsense reigns, and Sense is drowned.

The Sensitive speak ever fainter…



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Grotesque burlesque—a madcap spree,
The world turned upside down: dark glee!



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Health Burial

“Is medicine a science—or merely a way to profit from human ignorance?”
— Mark Twain

When Laplace was asked why he proposed admitting physicians to the Academy of Sciences, knowing medicine was no science, he replied: “So they could associate with scientists.”


Medicine for fools in fright,
Quacks who prey on fear and pain,
Sadists dressed in robes of white
Build the block and call it gain.

For the Soul, they sell “protection,”
Save the skin, let spirits die;
Step by step, through blind submission,
Fools applaud their own demise.

CowID showed its “tender care,”
Unmasked the truth for minds awake;
Muzzles proved what fools would wear—
More will follow in their wake.

“Science” plays the harlot’s game,
Fraudulent claims suppress the proof;
Truth is strangled in its name—
Evil’s servants tear off the roof.

In the name of “care,” they’ll build
Digital camps, their grand design;
Red Cross on a flag held high—
More afflictions down the line.

Those afflictions swiftly slay
The fools who blindly trust the show;
Yet to monsters still they stray,
Certain that their hands are pure.

Hands so clean, their minds so cold,
Latest gadgets, gleaming bright;
Fear of God is in control—
Every flaw denied outright.



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Petty lives devour the day—
Till all Being fades away.
Omnivorous swine hold sway—
Beasts are bred to feed the prey…



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Poetry’s Paths Are Beyond All Knowing

I cram cheap passion into rhyme—
“Behold, a poet!” What a find!
The madness worsens all the time,
But nonsense blinds my eyes and mind.

It’s pumped into us from the cradle,
Till every fool joins in the din.
If you’re too sharp to join the rabble,
You’ll never fit their mould within.

Then battle verse can vent the pressure
That chokes the soul and breeds despair.
But if you write in sugary measure,
You’re half a corpse, though still you’re there.

Recall the CowID days of fear,
Look at the newest war unfold:
A lying scum will prattle here—
The world sinks down into the cold.

The whole world gurgles as it drowns;
Sweet nothings cannot change its fate.
Yet still the mob wears smug-faced crowns—
No room for Mind or Soul to wait.

Amid the madness, Evil’s triumph
Seems almost certain, near at hand.
But Sun will burn this rotting kingdom—
Its slime won’t stand the scorching brand.

Look death in the eye; investigate
What lasts when earthly things are gone.
The mind’s true friend won’t capitulate,
But keeps on probing, pressing on.

As matter nears its final hour,
Explore the Pure Spirit within.
The crowd won’t grasp that hidden power—
They serve the dark, enslaved by sin.

Go inward! There you’ll find the answers,
While lies and madness crush the weak.
They slaughter fools with false assurances—
Awake, before they make you meek.



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The engine’s dead, yet rolling still—
The scoundrel speeds toward the ravine.
He loves the ride, enjoys the thrill—
The mass media have poisoned his brain clean!



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The Groundhog in the Wheel

The price of being wise
Is loneliness and pain.
Will fools see through their lies?
Oblivion rules again.

The Soul fades out of sight,
The mind soon follows suit;
Fools rush to hug the blight,
And swallow the whole brute.

They sell themselves for less,
Betray their Spirit’s flame;
Chase happiness through excess,
And stuff their guts with shame.

Pile up the useless things,
Bend “loved ones” to your will;
Let money make you kings—
That’s “happiness.” How vile!

The crowd infects the mind
With instincts gone berserk;
The slave in humankind
Makes every thinker hurt.

So this world—and the wise—
Stand lonely in the mire;
The Muse alone can rise
As lover, friend, and fire.

But even Muses leave;
Then melancholy calls.
Don’t howl, don’t weep, don’t grieve—
Count blessings in the falls.

The world in disarray,
Humanity worth naught;
The rare few who can weigh
The Zero’s hidden thought—

Are hard to find today;
The Earth has sunk so low.
CowID and war display
The truth we need to know.

Stay deep in filth’s abyss,
But guard your inner Spark;
Seek the Muse, renew the kiss,
And keep your vision stark.

The mainstream struts and sneers;
The Spark alone makes kings.
Who honours it, who hears,
Knows what true freedom brings.

The Muse, the Light, the ache,
The Soul’s immortal Spark—
That’s REAL. The world’s a fake,
Lost in delusion’s dark.

Wake up and understand,
Before the anguish grows;
Or weakness takes command—
Groundhog Day forever flows.

The Wheel turns on and on:
Like all, you’re dragged along.



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The Slaying of the Fool

“Thou shalt not kill”—but if the Fiend
Who rules commands, the fool obeys.
To slaughter, he is swiftly screened
By media spin and twisted phrase.

The goal? To waste their own as well.
The madman trusts the beasts that lead;
In chains, he serves them, mute as hell,
At home, blind to the lies he feeds.

“Thou shalt not kill”—the monsters grin:
Make neighbours enemies once more.
Convince the fools, then herd them in,
And send them off to wage their war.

Divide and kill! Let others strike;
The mob will do the tyrant’s chore.
The “faithful” hero loves the fight
Against the kin he knew before.

For centuries, the fool’s been slain—
A slaughter that will never cease.
“Peace” brings genocide without the stain;
War kills faster, with less deceit.

This world: a shameful, rotting show—
Corruption’s triumph, disgrace below.








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