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Norbert Tasev Jan 24
Now it is resounding again, the spit-out, wild brutal romanticism, which is what many brainwashed, nameless persona-CDs, pay-as-you-go kurafi call it, is distasteful. How the hell the distressing self-consciousness spews itself out into the world. "because everything is in vain!" – his basic feeling. The disgraced, poisoned saliva lips of prostitutes cite everyone to the meat processor of slaughterhouses.

No one wants to raise their defenseless head from the row of the yellow earth, where they have sinned with zeal, lying to the stars?!

In this upset, grotesque old world, where the insidious herd-herd spirit, arrogant, self-righteous, sole-licking idiots and party-faces sizzle with unanimity, the air hisses ferociously. – They are dishonored, destroyed, just like benevolent vagabonds; fake card holders rob each other if they really have to.

Even unarmed, the soul-flame burning on your tender body is more and more ominous and dangerous. Waving shadows strangle each other to their liking in the syrupy darkness. It is still permissible for ecstasy-intoxicated party-celebs who are dully recovering, if destruction builds a permanent nest among the ruins of their existence

The split schizophrenic ego disintegrates into its **** like layers of shells. – The extended waves of murderous silence blur the complexity of self-evident essences. The cosmic Janus face of murderer or victim is already going on. The long-term, general deprivation of the same goals is already the cherished dream-desire at all levels.

The tempers of the Cain brothers are now straining against each other. All of them are lone criminals still hunting themselves in their No Man's Land!
Norbert Tasev Jan 23
When the restlessness is also difficult to calm down inside, one day it may even happen that you will finally be able to make peace with yourself; when you will be soothed and comforted by the truer, more angelic being of your Beloved, who first gently bends over you like a sleeping birch branch, then hugs you, cradles you, like an orphaned child, maybe then you yourself can understand the complexity of the choice, it was always in you alone.

When Being weaves new ulterior motives and nefarious plans against you, you will easily find out that in this great, infinitely fattened, manipulable game of chance, which is now being played for the pleasure of the Galad World, you will feel that you can find your own lesson-witnesses even in your fall.

Even now, still sleepily, a little comatose, the small Odyssey-like readiness of homesickness hums and hums in your heart; you want to go, set off on a journey as if it were a continuous eternity, because you are unable to lose the weight of your precious, tiny life, thought to be shipwrecked, in one place, and you can feel as if the no-man's-day sin of everyday life would immediately crush the seeds of your as-yet-undiscovered creativity.

Take good care of yourself, because you yourself can face it every day and you can see it: the average person is regularly cheated and deceived by the harlots, bloodthirsty sensationalists, celebratory, pitiful scumbags, and greedy, unquenchable longing for a more luxuriously arranged lifestyle, which you have nothing to do with, since you always wanted to be yourself.

When you feel that others can pull you around as they please, you will need a gentle nickname and some truer words of friendship cut from honesty.
Norbert Tasev Jan 22
How many more wasted, pitiful, nightmare-filled, futile vigils are needed for a moment that was said to be eternal, to let not only the lack that is said to be permanent, but also the emptiness to leak out once and for all?! Despite the deliberately diverted parts, it seems as if the pitifully structured scenario could have always remained the same.

Sooner or later, someone will really get to know someone, and what's more, on an instinctive, visceral level, they will unexpectedly throw them away, saying; he delved too much into the other's more personal, more modest, lyrical self, which is like a thick, unbreakable walnut gut, and it's a tough job to even break it open, especially when someone tries to protect and protect his soul with doubled spiral walls.

Then comes another love that flirts with the Universe, but is still trite, which may seem to totally replace, change, and convert the person in question, until finally, one fine day, it ends in a painful breakup simply because the secret gigantic weight, the outbursts of honest, lying emotions are no longer they can be enough to make everything right, or just make up for it.

Questions, new illusions, and insecurities surround the individual day by day, and when the registrar's finale comes, instead of the obligatory yeses, nos are heard, because material well-being is still worth more than a paltry, life-smelling petty emotion. But the long-awaited solid and eternal snail-house happiness just can't come, since both parties made a petty, calculated deal in their own way, so they bargained at the same time. It's a shame to put the apparent oiliness in yet another set of question marks.

The current social conventions, which can be chosen on purpose, are still deliberately imposed on each individual and try to regulate the life of the traditional average, while, condensed into a single minute, the given life will soon fly away, and there will not be a single witness left who knows who was, or could have been, the another?!
Norbert Tasev Jan 21
Everyone knows by now: Mouse nibbling pulverizes the brain, reason, and culture, and every shrill, shrill sneaking around becomes unfathomable in the cauldron of souls. Everyone gets a vigilant donkey's head, and more and more often the simple court fool can only be absolutely right.

Stuttering in the soothing sheep choir is now becoming more and more popular. Minutes's field of vision is getting narrower and narrower, the superficial success of minute-man blue. Discounted autographs and superficial gestures are handed out by the privileged and the deserving. Even sweet mistakes lose themselves on purpose. More and more people are claiming that they have the right to be successful or to earn a lot of money as an influencer. In a black-and-white world, simplified things can easily become complicated.

Now, foolish brutes and wild animals enjoy themselves and parade in abundance. The embittered odious words that once spiced up the cozy night with an idyllic, sweet romance - now, in bitter, stripped-down habit, they are deepening further and further in their own, selfish underworld. That a real lady could so easily succumb to the sight of a macho testosterone Titan after a single candlelit dinner. He can't give a compliment yet, but he drives a Porsche or even a Ferrari if he feels like it; and the soul-seeing willow poet may fall on his face sooner.

Now fewer and fewer people can climb to the heights of the Heaven of emerging Being; fewer and fewer soul-seeers could remain on their feet, just like the truer, more immortal believers in Allness, who could still feel the vulnerable joys of Being in the midst of the materialized world!
Norbert Tasev Jan 20
The flickering sliver of night light now encloses the pitch black like a looming, cracked lampshade. Outside, the brutal cold of winter, which wants to gnash its teeth, bends icicles, even though it is only minus two at the moment. "That's plenty too!" - you think, while a lost yellow-cheese taxi carelessly passes in front of your house.

Something has stopped again and disappeared from this World that is now starting the new year. You can't be 100% certain that you've actually just become a tolerated, transiting guest, who is asked to go to hell behind your back with the very first elegant gesture, or is pestered for a while with wait-and-see, honey-glazed tactics. - A surprising number of people flounder through their own ****** lives, as if everything and everyone is already spiraling towards the great common debtor, from which there is neither escape nor return.

The fake passwords that also attack the other worlds in the form of belated rescuers rarely, if ever, arrive on time; an elderly mother collapses on the open street corner, while curious, naive, almost childlike onlookers rush around her, while her carefree and worn-out body sighs out its thought-to-be-immortal soul as the last unfinished chapter.

The wretched shell-loneliness, and rather the increased avoidance of redundancy, increasingly tempts the still-stuck living. - The fate of the lost often scares even those who are only now trying to learn and teach the acid and pepper of the capitalized but lying Life. The projected vision of the future is now even more glaring, and even more conspicuous. The beginning and end are often barely recognizable!
Norbert Tasev Jan 20
Who is hard at heart, or never at peace in the name of compulsive games as the whispers of the left index finger, like the convict, the son of man has been branded, except that the fussy, ragged life is still a serious matter. Man's compromised hope was also lied to from the heavens, like the diamond-bright stars, in order to somehow fill the emptiness of the great lack at any cost.

Because somehow all of them have been forced to hide the deep abyss intentions of their own selfish and greedy plunder in secret and perhaps under me. some of them are even capable of squealing out of their own skin at any time and pretending to be something other than what they really are. They are the total opposites of a relatively impracticable, agreed-upon lifestyle and social arrangement.

Only the long-lasting loneliness could not ask for absolving grace from the agonizing, mind-blowing solitude; even among the memories of the past that open wounds, a lasting, agreed reconciliation can now seem more and more difficult. - With unreserved half-solutions - he is afraid - it is difficult to cross the dimensional gates of the inner soul, which do not just open to anyone.

With interchangeable Janus faces - in many cases - like sheep led to the slaughterhouse, snarling beasts stare at each other, worms and traitors at the same time, because they could hardly do anything else. In the shelters of sleepless nights, it would be nice to have a predictable, protective hug that is unique and inimitable. Everything seems to sink relatively uselessly into the squinting silence...
rick Jan 18
this is it, man
the last stop before hell
the final chapter before knowing the unknown
I prayed this day would never come
and I have feared it more than death itself
but now that it has arrived, I can’t move,
I’m paralyzed, comatose,
almost vegetable-like
too many nights were spent
laughing with diesel-powered killers,
singing with mop-haired lepers
in monotone slate
& dancing with minotaurs around
the open flame of age
it’s all behind me now
my days roll through soft and fuzzy
like peaches in the August heat
a cozy bed, comfy pillows, secure blankets
and yet, I felt safer in more dangerous places
(I always preferred the acid rain dripping from the mossy underpass over the holy water bubbling in the Vatican jacuzzi,
yeah dig?)
but now that I’m surrounded by all this
security, comfort and warmth
I feel less alive, almost finished,
when I’ve got so much more to unleash
like a mad dog, old and vicious and untrained by its master with enough bite
to inflame your wrists with rabies.
it’s been one hell of a picnic, lemme tell ya:
kissing death under the ring of vultures
loving women like a broken bear trap
delivering music like an olive branch
cleansing myself from these filthy poems
it’s time to turn it over to someone else
let them abuse the night
and listen to it scream
me? my nights weep themselves to sleep
and I join in on their sorrow.
rick Jan 12
looking around this empty room right now,
I’ve come to accept that the gig is up;
the party’s over, the lights are off
and everyone’s gone home:
the music here is quiet and tame
the basement echoes in phantom laughter
the window panes are no longer broken
the pyramids of beer cans have crumbled
the late nights have turned into early mornings
the dancing girls have turned into career women
and I had it good for a while, maybe too good;
shooting dice and rolling sevens and elevens
but now everything comes up snake-eyes.
I finally understood that the foundations of people
were more unstable than water and
less faithful than a Rush St. ******.
friendships and other relationships
sank faster than a mafia ****** weapon
(maybe that’s why they call them “ships”)
but as the aging hours of time came
crashing through like lightning:
I found love when love was unkind
I found hate when hate was merciless
I found people and stubbed them out like cigarettes
where by and by, it all turns to ash,
just mounds and mounds of ash,
windswept by gentle persuasion
and now they’re buried in their shrink-wrapped lives;
dropping kids off at soccer practice, attending PTA meetings,
hosting chili cook-offs, yelling at football games,
disgusted with Tuesday’s, bowling on Wednesdays,
pretending everyone’s doing fine and living quite well
while I am left here with myself
and this eerie moment
of reflection, now realizing:
it’s all gone.
TR3F1LD Jan 12
It's not that humans are inherently evil, it's more like that each & every person, even the most virtuous one, has the potential of backsliding into being evil. Take a look into your mind's corrupt part. What is it that you really desire or get thrilled by? Imagine: regularly having entertainments & pleasures of whatever types you dig; having a wealth amounting to hundreds millions (or even billions) of dollars at your disposal; being in the position of giving requests & orders, having those around you who'd obediently satisfy them, having loyalists who'd put those disobeying or rebelling in their place by either legal means or forcible ones; being in the position of projecting & enforcing your will, views, ideas upon masses.

Imagined? Now say neither of the mentioned sounds tempting to you, that you aren't interested in any of such stuff. I wouldn't believe a person rejecting those temptations wholly [holy] or claiming they aren't interested in any of those. Such a person is either an ashamed liar or out of their mind. I, as well as some other individuals thinking alike, believe each & every human is corruptible, hence, keeping in mind that appetite comes during the consumption process, each & everyone has the potential of turning into an archvillain, under circumstances being favorable to that, of course.
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Не то чтобы люди злы по своей природе, скорее каждый без исключения человек, даже самый добродетельный, имеет потенциал скатиться до злого. Загляните в порочную часть своего сознания. Что это, что вы действительно желаете или что приводит вас в восторг? Представьте: регулярное наличие развлечений и удовольствий любых нравящихся вам типов; наличие богатства, составляющего сотни миллионов (или же и вовсе миллиарды) долларов, в вашем распоряжении; пребывание в позиции, чтобы отдавать запросы и приказы, наличие вокруг вас тех, кто покорно удовлетворит оные, наличие лоялистов, что поставят неповинующихся или же бунтующих на место либо законными средствами, либо силовыми; пребывание в позиции, чтобы проецировать и насаждать свои волю, взгляды, идеи массам.

Представили? А теперь скажите, что ничего из упомянутого не звучит соблазнительно для вас, что вы не заинтересованы ни в чём из подобного. Я бы не поверил человеку, отвергающему оные соблазны полностью или же утверждающему, что не заинтересован ни в чём из оного. Такой человек есть либо стыдящийся лжец, либо безумец. Я, как и другие похоже мыслящие люди, убеждён, что каждый без исключения человек подвержен моральному разложению, следовательно, помня, что аппетит приходит в ходе процесса потребления, каждый без исключения имеет потенциал, чтобы превратиться в архизлодея, при способствующих оному обстоятельствах, разумеется.
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rick Jan 6
I don’t know how it happens
but every nut job you meet in a bar
has a story they’d like to share with you
about their wild days of youth
or about how things and people were
decades ago without the usage
of what we have now.
they seem to be unstoppable,
their mouths are like pistons
running on an everlasting engine
pumping out these useless words,
these agonizing words that don’t
amount to anything
and the crazy part that blows my mind is
I continue to listen with great anguish
I am their ear, their therapy
I am the light to a handful of moths,
an oddity freely roving amongst them
these people were once people
a long time ago
fulfilling fantasies
they could never imagine
and now they have found me and latched on
as if anything had to do with anything
but I need them though, I need their agony
I need their glory and their damnation
because without their uselessness
how would I ever continue pumping out
these meaningless poems?
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