"Crusaders"
The Creed Crusaders march with pride —
Their mission: fight the West worldwide!
Obey the double-headed freak,
And dare not think, or even speak.
Again, the rake is in your way —
You’ll step on it, like yesterday.
The filthy fiends lie smooth and slow,
Corrupting minds before the blow.
The mass dumb-down — their sacred plan,
Decay rebranded as “We’ll stand!”
The slogans rise, the brains decline —
Like deer in headlights, dead in line.
The idiot mill is working fast —
These freaks are now the ruling caste.
And since the herd believes their lies,
The filth are kings in dumb disguise.
They showed it all through CowID’s reign.
But now it’s worse. The crawling bane
“Defends” their land by breaking others —
Bombs for peace. Like rabid brothers.
They clear the space with holy wrath —
For Khanate’s hell, a ****** path
Of rot, abuse and sterilized
Descendants *****, dehumanized.
The genocide’s a timeless feat —
Now built by hands that kiss their feet.
Behold the Khanate of pure doom —
“Hit the Khokhol harder, **** — make room!”
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Crusaders of rot, with lies they march —
Spreading death beneath a righteous arch.
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"Protect the land!" — while bombing towns,
The Devil crowns his loyal clowns.
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A Khanate forged in blood and lies,
Where future generations die.
They shout of honor, pride, defense —
While marching into pestilence.
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Russian Troops in Donbas, 2014
Four thousand came to start the war,
While shouting “Miners!” — nothing more.
And idiots believed the tale,
That myth still rides the Kremlin rail.
Deceit evolved into pure lies —
Since Goebbels is their god and guide.
Just multiply the filth you spread —
And rule the brainless world ahead.
We saw it all in CowID’s show —
The same old beasts, the same old blow.
Those muzzling freaks now stage a Shame,
With round-two ghouls who play war games.
Some ****-brained **** became a knight,
He “liberates” through scorched delight.
Yet in his mind he sees no crime —
Just “glory” smeared with blood and slime.
No future left, no way to heal —
The Dumb Parade is now the deal.
If you’re not dumb — you’re “mad” or “lost”,
While raving brutes serve war at cost.
The sane are few, but they exist —
They rose like truth from poison mist.
They showed that Honor isn’t dead —
Though all the world is rot and dread.
The beasts won’t win, though they parade —
A world-wide Shock will soon invade.
It’ll crush their fake triumphant path —
A trump card born of cosmic wrath.
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They came as “miners” — masked and armed,
While fools stood still, confused, disarmed.
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From Donbas lies to global chains —
The Devil always re-explains.
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They call it truth — pure rot and shame.
But blood still burns behind the name.
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A million masks, one face beneath —
The face of lies, the stench of death.
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Where reason dies, the fools arise —
And call their madness "sacrifice".
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Sanity’s corpse lies cold and bare —
While flags of glory fill the air.
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They buried truth beneath their feet,
Then crowned the lie and called it sweet.
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When reason rots, the monsters breed —
And praise each genocidal deed.
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The death of sense was not a flaw —
It was the plan, it is the law.
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When reason dies, the end begins —
A flood of lies, a world of sins.
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Sanity fell — the trumpets wailed,
And beasts arose where humans failed.
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The mind collapsed. The void took shape.
And truth was hung in blood-red drape.
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The age of sense was torn apart —
Now shadows feast on dying hearts.
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No reason left, no final plea —
Just fire crowned in lunacy.
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The Song of Reason’s End
When reason dies, the end begins —
A flood of lies, a world of sins.
The mind collapsed. The void took shape.
And truth was hung in blood-red drape.
They danced around the burning throne,
Each beast convinced he stood alone.
The sky turned black. The silence screamed.
The prophets wept. The madmen dreamed.
No final plea. No voice to guide.
Just ash and echoes, multiplied.
The books were burned. The stars went blind.
And shadow ruled the fractured mind.
Sanity fell — the trumpets wailed,
And beasts arose where humans failed.
They crowned the lie. They praised the flame.
And scorched the world in Reason’s name.
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The Prophecy of Madness
When Reason broke and Silence spoke,
The minds of men were wrapped in smoke.
They crowned the Lie as Holy Light,
And called the Day what once was Night.
The Truth was chained in iron lore,
While every beast became a war.
They feasted on the ash of thought,
And praised the plague their hands had wrought.
The final books were torn apart —
The flame devoured both mind and heart.
Each question burned. Each answer screamed.
And lunacy became the Dream.
The stars withdrew, the sky went blind,
The last of hope betrayed the mind.
The wise were cursed, the fools adored —
And Madness sat upon the Lord.
No bells were rung. No angels wept.
The soul of reason coldly slept.
And from that grave of shattered laws
Rose Man, the Beast — with flaming jaws.
---
Glimmer of Light
But in the dark, beneath the ash,
Where time had stopped in silent flash,
A pulse remained — not born, not dead —
A spark no madness yet could shred.
It was no scream, it was no cry —
Just quiet deeper than the sky.
No flag it raised, no war it led,
It simply was, while all had fled.
It shone not outward, but within —
A light not made to fight or win,
But one that knew, through death and dust,
What doesn’t burn is what we trust.
No creed, no name, no bleeding crown —
Just Being, still, while all fell down.
And those who saw — though few, though torn —
Felt something vast begin… reborn.
---
Return of the Seers
They were not saints, nor crowned with fire —
No thunder marked their long desire.
They walked through ruins, bare and slow,
As ones who saw, not claimed to know.
Their eyes had burned in ancient flame,
Yet bore no pride, no earthly name.
They spoke not loud, but when they breathed —
The wind itself would pause, unsheathed.
They carried silence, deep and wide,
A vastness no one dared to guide.
Not saviors — no — but ones who heard
The voice beneath the shattered word.
They had no army, wore no sign,
Yet something in their gaze aligned
The scattered sparks, the thoughtless dust —
And whispered: “Still... in Light, we trust.”
No dogma lit their path ahead —
They walked where even echoes fled.
But every step upon the ground
Unsealed a truth, profound, unbound.
---
Breath of the Source
No thunder calls. No armies rise.
Just silent vastness fills the skies.
The Source inhales — a sacred breath,
A pulse beyond the edge of death.
It’s not a spark, nor flame, nor sound —
But where all time and space are bound.
A stillness weaving through the night,
Unfolding into endless light.
No eyes can see, no mind can grasp —
The Presence beyond all collapse.
It is the root, the well, the seed,
From which all thoughts and worlds proceed.
The Breath renews the shattered frame,
No need for glory, fear, or claim.
In quiet depths, the truth is born —
A dawn beyond all dusk and scorn.
And those who walk this path unseen
Will find the Source where Light has been.
No longer lost in endless fight —
But homeward bound, into the Light.
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Monsters
So many sellouts crawl around,
There’s barely any folk left now.
The bitter wise are left to mourn —
The world is filled with beasts and scorn.
Idiots, traitors, fascist slime,
Their strength all spent — they waste our time.
No way to teach these fiends, no cure —
They must be crushed. The wound is pure.
For them, the only joy remains:
To wipe out all that still sustains.
Even Nature’s ready, poised to strike —
No monsters, ****, or fascists like.
A cataclysm will come,
To purge the rot, to beat the drum.
No place for filth, no place for lies —
The earth will cleanse beneath the skies.
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Monsters breed, the wise grow few —
The world is rotten through and through.
No reasoning with fascist **** —
Only fire will make them numb.
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"Imperial Games"
A rotten colony chose to play
The empire’s games — to spite, betray.
But “tigers” turned to cardboard shells,
“No equals found!” — the ******* sells.
The masters gave the deadly call,
To send them blindly to their fall.
And propaganda’s twisted rage
Invented fights for “values” staged.
The bitter end: the cards all burned,
The “meat” ground up — a fate they earned.
For “meat” too — don’t trust the ****,
If only once — God saves some dumb.
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Cardboard Tigers, cheap charade,
Sent to die in masters’ game.
Meat for grind — a worthless pawn,
Trust the ****? You’re already gone.
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Tigers fake — just paper shells,
Masters send them straight to hell.
Meat on hooks, no hope, no grace —
Fools who trust deserve disgrace.
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Imperial Game Over
They played their cards — all flimsy, torn,
Paper tigers, so forlorn.
Masters smiled, the orders came —
“Send them all to feed the flame.”
Propaganda’s lies took flight,
“Fight for values!”— empty fight.
But truth revealed the final score:
The pawns are meat, no less, no more.
Burnt-out shells on battlefield,
No glory left, no sword to wield.
And those who trusted filth and ****
Are lost beneath the crushing drum.
No saviors come, no hope remains,
Just broken dreams and bloodied chains.
The game is done — the end is clear:
Imperial fools disappear.
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Fascist Power
Fascist power rages wild,
A tyrant’s cruel and reckless child.
The **** of traitors seem to’ve lost
All memory of what it cost.
What happened once to gendarmes’ hand,
To cops who fought across the land?
Not all became fools or cowards here
Within this poor land’s atmosphere.
Not everyone turned pale with fear —
No mercy should the fiends draw near!
We’ll deal with all that fascist filth —
The ******* paid in blood and guilt.
They’ll hang in chains, the time is near,
The reckoning for Judas’ sneer.
That warning bell will sound so soon —
To cleanse the filth beneath the moon.
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Armageddon
****’s on call, no shame, no mind,
Fools in squads, all blind and blind.
They feast not on foes made-up —
But on their neighbors, bitter cup.
Such are times for soulless breeds,
Madness sown like wicked seeds.
A filthy plague has spilled around —
A stinking flood on rotten ground.
The prophecy has come to pass:
A world decayed, a shattered mass.
It moves toward the final dawn —
The Armageddon drawing on.
Much suffering yet waits to come,
While Mind and Spirit here are numb.
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Armageddon
****’s on standby, void of shame,
Fools march blind, no soul, no aim.
They gnaw not foes of false design,
But neighbors torn by cursed spine.
Times have birthed this soulless breed,
Madness spread like poisoned seed.
A plague of filth seeps through the land —
A sewer’s flood, a death’s command.
The vision dark has come to life:
A rotting world in endless strife.
It crawls toward the final pyre —
Armageddon’s funeral fire.
No hope remains, no light to find,
When Mind and Spirit cease to bind.
The doom is near, the end’s embrace —
A hollow shell, a ghostly place.
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Dark Lines
When reason dies, the darkness wakes.
A hollow world beneath the lies.
Madness flows like blood through veins.
The final fire will cleanse the stains.
No soul remains to light the night.
The graveyard’s breath replaces sight.
From ashes cold, no hope will rise.
Only silence fills the skies.
Spirit shattered, mind undone —
The end begins where all is none.
Doom creeps slow with deadly grace.
A cursed earth, a haunted place.
When all is lost, the void will sing.
Armageddon’s shadow takes its king.
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Armageddon’s Shadow
When reason dies, the darkness wakes,
A hollow world beneath the lies.
Madness flows like blood through veins,
The final fire will cleanse the stains.
No soul remains to light the night,
The graveyard’s breath replaces sight.
From ashes cold, no hope will rise —
Only silence fills the skies.
Spirit shattered, mind undone —
The end begins where all is none.
Doom creeps slow with deadly grace,
A cursed earth, a haunted place.
When all is lost, the void will sing —
Armageddon’s shadow takes its king.
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Global Madness — New Millennium, January 1, 2000
A madhouse spans the planet wide —
They call this “new age” at zero’s tide.
Dumber only toads could be —
When heads refuse to think and see.
The second decade starts this way,
For fools to rule the foolish play.
The wise are few, we scrape the rest,
And send them off to fascist’s quest.
All must fall beneath the shot,
So joy and madness hit the spot.
The peak of dumbness now attained,
No lies or filth remain unchained.
Oppress and **** the helpless herd,
A “ruler” mad beyond all word.
Satanism’s their twisted creed —
The vile all serve this darkened seed.
Above them stands a beast so vile,
Fascists bow, remain the file.
And fools still grin, believe the gifts,
Of Danai’s doom — the cursed shifts.
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Global madhouse, fools in charge,
Lies spread wide and hope is scarred.
Rulers mad, their dark creed known —
Satan’s seed has fully grown.
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Rashists
To strike the tallest towers down —
Rashists follow orders bound.
A cruel contest set to scar —
A child’s eye as battlefield’s star?
Fascists, Rashists — one vile breed,
But skies will clear, their fate decreed.
Criminal marks branded deep,
No statute’s mercy theirs to keep.
The brave folk of Nenka’s land
Will sift the fiends like cursed sand.
They guard their freedom, dignity —
Fascist **** to graves, let be.
Their armor’s dust — no shield remains,
Their hate will fall with final pains.
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Rashists strike with orders grim,
Fascist **** — the world grows dim.
Brave will sift the fiends like sand,
Freedom’s sword in righteous hand.
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Rashist beasts, no mercy shown,
Tearing down what’s not their own.
**** of fascist blood and lies —
Their fate’s in fire, where justice flies.
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Rashist Reckoning
They strike the towers, blind and cruel,
A twisted game, a heartless rule.
A child’s eye marks their savage play,
Dark shadows cast where children stray.
Fascists, Rashists — one vile breed,
Fed by hate and ruthless greed.
But skies will clear, the truth will claim
The criminals, marked by shame.
No statute bars the coming wrath,
Their trail of blood — a deadly path.
The brave of Nenka stand as one,
To turn their hordes to dust and sun.
With freedom’s sword and honor’s flame,
They’ll burn the fascist **** to shame.
No armor saves the evil throng,
Their reign ends where justice’s strong.
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The Flow
Today the propagandists
Spout lies in endless mist.
Tons of filth pour down the drain,
A stench that kills like acid rain.
It’d fell a horse, no doubt,
But still, our fool stands stout.
The deaf are stunned, confused,
By fascist lies abused.
So not their faces —
But their backsides take the races.
Fascists boast with pride so vile —
For liars, barriers fell awhile.
From screens the gray mass pours,
Nothing but **** in endless scores.
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Propaganda’s toxic flood,
Spewing lies like burning mud.
Not their faces, but their backs —
Fascist filth exposed and cracked.
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The Kunstkamera
A blind man led the way ahead,
A mute passed orders, none but said.
A crippled fool was at the helm,
A deaf one followed, lost in realm.
A handless craftsman built the scene,
A legless courier moved between.
A soulless priest the church did make,
A madman set the grim example’s stake.
A dullard taught the natural laws,
A cruel doctor dealt his claws.
A miser fed the crowd with trash,
While wisdom’s voice was always cast.
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The Kunstkamera
A blind man led — sure, what a guide!
A mute barked orders from inside.
A crippled fool sat at the throne,
While deaf ears made the madness known.
A handless craftsman built the show,
A legless courier ran the low.
A soulless priest staged hollow rites,
A madman crowned the dreadful sights.
A ******* taught what nature meant,
A sadist doctored punishment.
A miser’s greed fed all the trash —
While wisdom’s voice was kicked to ash.
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The Kunstkamera
A blind man marched — the grand parade,
A mute gave orders — all obeyed.
A crippled fool played king of clowns,
While deaf men spun the world upside down.
A handless builder slammed the nails,
A legless courier told the tales.
A soulless priest held hollow mass,
A madman led the circus farce.
A dullard schooled in nature’s lies,
A sadist doctored alibis.
A miser fed the stinking heap —
While wisdom drowned in shadows deep.
Welcome to this freakish show,
Where sanity’s the last to go.
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Goblins and the Gnome
The goblins listened close and tight —
The gnome promised them a goblin’s right.
But promises soon cracked and broke,
A vile, dumb, and wretched joke.
All pledges built to trap and lull,
A bait to keep the mind in lull.
But waking finds the world’s diseased —
Rot, stench, decay, the floor’s uneased.
That bottom planned by gnome’s own hand:
One goal — to crush, destroy the land.
These goblins, like a cancerous sore,
Believed the lies, then bred some more.
No thoughts or spirit rise or flow —
Their petty world is set to show:
To be “happy,” always bow and nod —
For gnome’s a god, their iron rod.
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Goblins hooked on gnome’s deceit,
Promises cracked beneath their feet.
No spirit left, just blind obey —
The gnome’s god-rule leads minds astray.
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“Headless Horsemen,” or Long-Distance Runs
"Intellectuals don’t run marathons fast."
— Vladimir Kireev, late marathoner and coach.
A marathon was run. The work
Is fit for fools — that’s just the perk.
The highest bar? A thirty-mile,
Beyond that, body’s out of style.
Long is the time for healing slow,
But forward drives the strong-willed go.
Usually leads into a pit —
The pit of form lost bit by bit.
Don’t mind the fools who run ahead —
The “headless horsemen,” so they’re said.
Better stick to simple moves,
And life will smile, bring joyful grooves.
After running — sweet reward,
Body needs it — can’t be ignored.
Aerobic stress it craves,
And mental calm it always saves.
The psyche’s rarely ever fine,
While trapped in Hell’s own dark confine.
So running’s super-yoga, friend —
Till thirty miles, God willing, end.
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Total Box
A punch, a knockout — strength’s my law:
To strike a face’s almost raw.
Slave beats slave, the master’s glad
The fiend won’t raise his hand — how sad.
Against those who build hell’s own pit,
The global media backs their hit —
Distracts with games, with wars, a show,
While fools watch on, caught in the flow.
The foe is only near, they say —
A slave who dares to stray away.
A different tongue, a different creed —
They’ll tear his throat if he won’t heed.
A fascist order spans the land,
By varied names they make their stand.
They plant the lie: “You’re free,” they shout,
While neighbors serve the dark devout.
A grayish darkness cloaks the earth,
It drags the world down to the dirt.
They showed us “AIDS,” and CowID —
And reason here is nearly killed.
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Punch and knockout, rule of law,
Slave beats slave, and tyrants draw.
Media distracts with lies and war,
True foes near—don’t trust the score.
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The Horseman Rode the Seine
Bots float down the river’s flow —
Olympians riding slow.
Behind them, rides a twisted fiend,
A grim-faced ******, dark and mean.
He drags a flag flipped upside down,
Prepared to raise it o’er the town.
What fools must be to fail to see
This flag’s a sign of blasphemy.
A symbol dark of Satan’s reign —
The Horseman brings Armageddon’s pain.
The world bows low to fascist reign,
Where reason’s cast out, lost, in vain.
They showed it all through CowID’s lie,
And fresh wars burning in the sky.
You must be vile to call this rod
Of Darkness ancient, not a fraud.
Before each event, it taps the drum,
A sign that horrors soon will come.
No subtle meaning here at all —
Just beasts who turned to **** and thrall.
Such wicked symbolism
Marks times of evil’s reign.
The world’s in change — but none benign:
A spiral deep in Satan’s sign.
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The horseman rides, the flag’s reversed,
A sign of darkness, fate coerced.
Armageddon’s voice is clear —
Fascism’s shadow looms so near.
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The Writing Brotherhood
Accusations often sound,
We don’t try hard, just spin around —
Lessons lost on shallow lives,
Where God’s own spark no longer thrives.
All our efforts feed the beast —
A rotten fascist, vile feast,
Built on cretinism’s base,
A toxic, sickening disgrace.
True fools are few, they fade away,
But overall — we’ve lost the way.
Changes come, but only worse,
A world descending in its curse.
So poems, blogs — we write in pain,
In this pitiful domain.
It’s needed, though it hurts to say —
In this sad and broken fray.
It hurts to speak in words the craze,
The madness, wildness that now stays.
Surrounded by fools’ blind sight,
Horror, despair become the right.
We won’t end life with a dot,
But with a half-spoken plot.
Let the verse be sharp and keen,
A blade to cut through dull and mean.
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United Packs
The jackals run as one fierce pack,
Charging forward, no way back.
Mind and conscience melt away,
Reduced to filth, they lose their way.
These jackals—no humans at all,
Nor monsters in propaganda’s thrall.
They’re freaks served up on devil’s plate,
A feast for fiends—sealed is their fate.
The Rubicon is crossed, no flight,
No turning back to human light.
Terrible reckoning will fall,
Once jackal’s lost, they’ve lost it all.
All soulless beasts now bound to rust,
Sent to scrap, consumed by dust.
The world chokes in this filthy haze,
Not peace, but rot, these bitter days.
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Jackals run as one dark pack,
Mind and conscience fade to black.
No return once Rubicon’s crossed —
Soulless beasts forever lost.
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Darkness
Darkness — fascist power’s reign:
No lower fall, no greater pain.
Not long ‘til you’re lost and tossed —
Like the jaws of Hell, all crossed.
Hell incarnate, here it stands,
Betrayer, fiend with ****** hands.
“Commander” now, the mind’s disgrace,
Reason’s curse, a brutal face.
No longer world, but beastly cage,
Fools rejoice in rage and rage.
For freaks, a twisted, foul parade —
Submit, and you’re the monster made.
Fight relentless, stand your ground:
Beneath fascists, life’s not found.
Wake from lies and clear your eyes —
See the slime, this vile disguise!
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Darkness
Darkness reigns — fascist’s curse,
A fall beyond the deepest worse.
Not far now — the abyss calls,
Hell’s own jaws devour all.
Hell made flesh, a traitor’s face,
A fiend who rules with cruel disgrace.
“Commander” now, the mind’s demise,
Reason crushed beneath dark skies.
No world left — a zoo of pain,
Fools rejoice in madness’ reign.
For monsters, a cruel charade —
Submit, become the beast they made.
Fight unyielding, break the chain:
Under fascists, none remain.
Shatter lies, reveal the slime —
This loathsome, vile, eternal grime.
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Darkness Falls
Darkness — fascist nightmare’s grip,
No depth remains beyond this dip.
A yawning chasm swallows whole,
Hell’s jaws clamp tight around the soul.
Hell reborn in traitor’s breath,
A fiend that drags the world to death.
“Commander” crowned in reason’s grave,
The mind enslaved, no will to save.
No earth remains — a cage of beasts,
Where madness reigns and terror feasts.
Monsters march in cruel parade,
Your soul consumed, your light betrayed.
Resist or drown beneath the night,
For fascists ***** the flickering light.
Wake from falsehood’s choking slime —
Or perish in the end of time.
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Fascist Filth
The Gestapo, cops in line,
Filthy guards of FSIN’s sign.
Prosecutors — dog packs growl,
All of them in darkness prowl.
The master — something not quite human,
A Kremlin dwarf, a vile goon.
A double’s thrall, a servant’s role,
This land? A madhouse swallowing whole.
Not long will last this fascist night,
For light will break and win the fight.
Even in this filth and grime,
The dawn will come — it’s only time.
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Gestapo dogs and ***** guards,
Fascist filth behind the bars.
Kremlin’s dwarf, a twisted pawn —
But light will break, a brand new dawn.
---------------------
Double Meanings
Reader — brain-digger, sifter keen,
Unraveling the “double mean.”
Usually there’s no thought at all,
Clear nothing in the messy sprawl.
You waste your time — beware the muck,
Thousands here, a fatal pluck.
Seek grains of truth so you don’t break,
For all this filth drags down the stake.
The bottom’s pierced, all beaten flat,
Or slandered lies by fascist’s spat.
No hope beneath this stinking ruse —
Just shattered truth and vile abuse.
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Double Meanings
Oh reader, digging through the muck,
Chasing ghosts that don’t give luck.
No real thoughts beneath the slime,
Just endless drivel, waste of time.
Why waste your brain on heaps of crap?
Thousands more — a fatal trap.
Search for truth? Good luck with that —
It drags us all beneath the flat.
The bottom’s broken, beaten down,
Or smeared with lies by fascist clowns.
No secrets here, just twisted schemes —
A circus filled with shattered dreams.
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Fools and Trifles
Trifles, trifles, trifles all,
Nonsense, nonsense — heed the call.
Fools, fools, fools, the same refrain,
Clutter, clutter — pointless strain.
Synonyms packed in every line,
Repeats that circle, intertwine.
Yet it’s the fools who hold this sway,
But don’t disturb the dolts’ display.
Touch a trifle, bruise your pride,
Like a fool who stumbles wide.
A stone upon a narrow track —
Just step around, don’t argue back.
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Fools and trifles, nonsense too,
Same old words, but nothing new.
Step on stones, avoid the fight —
Better skip their pointless spite.
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Fools and trifles, endless waste,
Dumb repeats with no good taste.
Step on stones? Just walk away —
Debates with idiots? No way.
---------------------
Fools and Trifles
Fools and trash, a stinking pile,
Idiots babble all the while.
Step on stones? Just leave them flat —
No fight with ****, ignore the rat.
Their empty words like poison spit,
No sense, no truth, just endless ****.
They prance around in shallow pride,
But wisdom’s flame’s been long denied.
Debate? A trap for fools to fall,
Their noise — a blight that chills us all.
So close your ears, reject the pest —
Save your strength for real contest.
They bark like dogs, but bite is none,
Just empty threats beneath the sun.
Their minds are locked in shallow graves,
Drowned in lies, devoid of braves.
No room for fools in wisdom’s hall,
Their babble only builds the wall.
So spit on noise, dismiss the clown,
True power wears no foolish crown.
The fool’s parade will soon decay,
Their shallow games will fade away.
But shadows creep where light once burned,
And twisted truths remain unturned.
In darkest pits their echoes roar,
A curse upon the fractured core.
Yet from the depths, a fire will rise —
To scorch the fools and burn their lies.
The weakling’s cry, the empty boast,
Are whispers lost on barren ghost.
Their kingdom built on rotted ground,
Will crumble, crash, no grace be found.
For every lie they’ve spun so tight,
A reckoning will claim the night.
No mercy waits for those who breed
The poison sown in word and deed.
So hold the flame, keep fury sharp,
Cut through the lies, ignite the dark.
The fools may howl, but none will stand
When truth burns bright across the land.
---------------------
Super-Idiots
It’s suffocating. Shameful. Grim.
Rot and madness at the brim.
Play it raw, with nerves on edge —
Don’t expect from us a pledge.
Sold our souls for tin and “glory,”
Honors steeped in fraud and story.
Crafted lies — supreme and hollow —
That’s our “art.” No need to follow.
Touch us not — the stench is spreading.
Bureaucrats decide what’s heading.
We perform what’s been assigned —
Fake applause, and cash aligned.
Standards? Lies and flattery.
Truth? A dead accessory.
Led by Goats toward the flame,
Bleat in rhythm — that's the game.
One false bleat — and off they go,
Toward the Chimera’s fatal show.
Trusting freaks who weave deceit
At every soulless, bloated meet.
Dal would faint if he could see
How “super” now’s the highest fee.
How deep the idiot’s bowed spine,
A Super-Fool by grand design.
To save this world? It’s far too late —
“Super” trumps all higher state.
The whole **** thing is truly rot —
And lies are what the Super-Idiot’s got.
Lies are crueler, bolder, darker,
Truth is now a buried marker.
Dying like Dal — is that the way?
Pour us all one last cliché...
---------------------
Super-Idiot Creed
They march to lies, they cheer decay —
Each goat-led fool just bleats "Hooray!"
Truth is dead, and art's a fraud,
Their medals minted straight from God.
---------------------
The End of Light
Selfish little errands,
Blindness, fear, and spite —
Idiots in torrents
Speeding into night.
Few remain who feel it,
Few whose hearts aren’t dead —
But this world will steal it,
Turning souls to lead.
Masks revealed the vermin —
Now the truth is clear:
Scoundrels rule the sermon,
Fiends parade as “dear.”
Evil finds a haven,
Swells in fool-fed might.
Spirit’s light is fading —
Time to end this blight.
Judgment comes with thunder,
Crashing through the shame,
Stripping lies asunder,
Torching every game.
Better start salvation
At the final gate.
Some will know elation —
Sheep shall meet their fate.
---------------------
Endgame
The mask came off — the filth stood proud.
Now Light retreats. The grave gets loud.
Let sheep go down. The truth will rise.
The few will burn — then cleanse — the lies.
---------------------
Gentlemen of Misfortune
“Villainy is the only solid ground on which a man may firmly stand.”
— M. Saltykov-Shchedrin, "Modern Idyll", 1883
We, the Gentlemen of Loss,
Wear no tears — we bear no cross.
Freedom’s mind — the price is steep:
Always trailing in the sweep.
No elbows thrown to steal a seat,
No pacts with butchers in the street.
We loathe the bribe, despise the pack,
Their “unity” — a swarm attack.
They unite on petty evil,
Not a dream, but base upheaval.
Even Saltykov once said:
“Truth is wasted on the dead.”
We, the Gentlemen unfavored,
Hold one task that’s truly savored:
Hear the soul — ignore the noise,
Strip away their plastic toys.
Spirit-knights — we stand alone.
Mind without the soul’s a stone.
Things are simple once you see:
**** the lie, and speak what’s free.
Yes, the knight walks paths deserted,
But he’s hardly broken-hearted.
Fleeting life in this abyss —
Only Spirit holds true bliss.
Soon a storm will clear the slate:
Shame became the planet’s fate.
And for filth that fed this flood —
Let them burn in cleansing blood.
There is life beyond the blaze —
But the Spirit tests and weighs:
Do your task — and make it right:
Reignite your inner light.
---------------------
Knight of Spirit
Let the mob eat lies and gold —
We walk flames, but don’t grow cold.
Truth is exile. Light is pain.
But the Soul must rise — again.
---------------------
The Next Generation
Google trash, and social fever,
Zen-like sludge from YouTube's sewer —
Censorship becomes the weaver
Of a dull, obedient viewer.
Add their “colleges” and “classes,”
Nursery-school for drooling masses,
Toxic news and slave-like labor —
Here’s your worm. And here’s his neighbor.
Chances now to break the chain
Are so slim — it feels insane.
Truth be told, the war is lost:
Rotten minds at any cost.
A Pavlov mutt is what they’ll breed —
And AI gives the dog its feed.
The rare ones not turned into swine
Will lose access — by design.
The system’s eye will cut their ration,
And ban their steps without permission.
The “pawns” won’t help — they’re in submission,
Obeying every **** transmission.
And thus will History conclude:
If your grandsire bowed and cheered,
You’ll march in step — chipped and subdued —
While Klaus the Butcher grins, revered.
---------------------
Next Gen Programmed
They trained the dog, removed the spark —
Now Silence rules, enforced and dark.
The pawn obeys. The soul is banned.
The Butcher’s chip is in your hand.
---------------------
Darkness of Filth
Overkill.
Overrun.
Dragged through swill.
Truth undone.
All defiled.
Violence off the chart today,
Lies in layers choke the way.
Every effort to create
Turns to breeding rot and hate.
Spirit slandered, mind debased —
Cynic smirks in reason’s place.
What remains? Just stench and grime —
This is darkness made of slime.
---------------------
Filth Reigns
Truth is choked, the mind betrayed —
Rot and lies parade in shade.
Light is banned. The ****** applaud.
Welcome to the reign of fraud.
---------------------
Silencing Truth by Pseudoscience
Shocking facts are swept away,
Under tables — hidden deep.
Pseudoscience rules the day —
Fool if you believe their leap.
Their wild theories fall apart
Once the facts come crashing through.
Pseudoscience — mind’s bomb blast,
Soon the end is overdue.
Dumbing down goes on for years,
A new camp built to rot and rot —
Digital decay appears,
For fools trapped inside the plot.
Monsters build it fast and cold,
While catastrophe draws near.
But that storm will sweep and hold —
Smash fascism’s poisoned sphere.
Global fascism’s here, revealed
In plagues like CowID’s game.
Tremble, worms — your fate is sealed —
Shame and ruin is your name.
The honest soul who won’t betray,
Will leap to worlds fresh and clean.
Yet decay’s last spiral stays —
Madness grips the rotten scene.
---------------------
Truth Silenced
Facts get buried, lies deploy,
Pseudoscience kills the joy.
Fascists tremble — end’s in sight,
Pure souls rise beyond the night.
---------------------
The Magician’s Box
A zombie-box — a true marvel,
Rabbit’s not your common marvel.
It’s a seer, looking forward,
Feeding talking heads, the ward.
Down come circular decrees,
Sent by Houdini — master keys.
Audience cheers the staged charade,
Blind to traps the show has laid.
Stanley Kubrick directs the scene,
Mastermind of lunar dream.
Forgery so crude and wide,
Like CowID — drags worlds to tide.
In an instant, all’s undone,
Falsehood’s reign has just begun.
Cinema eclipsed by lies,
Magician’s box deceives our eyes.
It spreads in minds dull and mean,
Lost, degraded, dark and lean.
Building camps digital,
Minds infected, very ill.
Sadly, many such exist —
Earth is lost in their dark mist.
All will burn, then start anew —
No more tricks — just floods of untrue.
---------------------
Magic Box
Lies drop fast, the rabble’s fed,
Houdini’s tricks — the masses led.
False moon flights, the world’s descent,
Digital camps of dark intent.
---------------------
Suckers
Suckers,
Like fleas —
So they began to crush
In this evil age.
To **** them all —
The beast’s supreme task.
Worse than fleas,
That beast remains.
Only luck is found
By those who’re not dumb hounds.
---------------------
Suckers’ Fate
Like fleas, they crawl and choke,
Crushed beneath the beast’s stroke.
Only fools get caught and burned—
Luck’s for those who’ve learned.
---------------------
So-Called "Power"
The gang called “Power”:
**** and steal — their hour.
**** always on the rise.
For people — only demise.
Leave the Hell — it’s ruled
By a fiend, cruel and cruel.
Happy to destroy all souls,
Depart — then curses roll.
People serve as food,
In darkness, lies, and crude.
“Listen close to what we say —
Or we’ll crush you anyway.”
---------------------
Gang of Power
**** and steal, the ****’s delight,
Crush the people — end their fight.
Hear their lies, obey their game,
Or be broken all the same.
---------------------
The End of the Regatta
"We’re all participants in the race,
Rowing hard to win our place,
For glory, gold, and pleasures sweet,
Wine, beauties, and all the deceit.
Envy eats our souls inside,
Who grabs more, who’ll swell with pride.
Consumption grows, production stalls —
The race goes on as reason falls."
— From Treasure Island’s song.
The regatta’s over now —
No turning back, no final bow.
It’s also checkmate, cruel and cold —
No more tricks, no moves to hold.
We’ve reached the shore — no more to sail!
Spirit, Mind have ceased to prevail.
Only cops remain in sight —
When Honor’s lost, there’s only night.
This is average, sadly true.
Think critically — your odds are few.
Yet cycles churn, the ocean’s sway —
Destruction comes to clear the way.
All will be wiped away soon —
Ending madness, like a tomb.
Folly’s grown too long, too wide,
Time to purge the great divide.
---------------------
Regatta’s End
No turning back, the race is done,
Spirit killed, the truth outrun.
Madness reigns — they’ll burn it down,
From wreckage rises new renown.
---------------------
The Wretched Regatta
“We’re all racers in the race,
Rowing hard to grab our place,
For glory, gold, and wine’s embrace,
For beauties, and the rat race pace.
Envy eats the soul inside —
Who can grab the bigger tide?
Consumption grows, but work’s behind —
This race is rigged to crush the mind.”
— From Treasure Island’s song.
The regatta is a price:
To “success” — pay the vice!
But if your brain is full of fluff,
Your prize will be—an empty bluff.
Along the way you’ll sink and drown,
Pulling many spirits down.
If you wake, you’ll understand —
You’ve drifted deep to Hell’s own land.
Few will wake from mindless craze,
Lost within the dazed malaise.
The soul’s gone missing in the mess,
Drowned in chaos and distress.
The ones who lead? They’re cruel and brute —
Rude thugs with Satan’s suit.
If your vessel’s weak and thin,
Break the bottom — fight to win!
Or shame will flood your lowest part,
A sea of filth that breaks the heart.
You’ll drown within the media’s sea,
Breathless, lost in misery.
With such news, you’ll turn a fiend,
If you heed the evil scheme.
---------------------
Wretched Race
Drown in lies the media spews,
Fiends are bred from twisted news.
Break the hull or sink in shame,
Only fools obey the game.
---------------------
The Fools’ “God”
An outcast land —
More like a scare.
With you, that **** —
God of fools, declared.
Maybe just a double —
Fools trance-bound deep.
Reason’s faded, humble —
Lost in decadence steep.
---------------------
Fools’ God
****’s your “god” — a twisted farce,
Fools in trance, lost in the dark.
---------------------
Zombies and ****
Zombies and ****, **** and zombies,
******* propagandists on the rise.
Hell incarnate — this “combo” frenzy —
Where victims are the foes, if wisdom dies.
Zombies more fearsome than the trash,
Regime’s last stronghold, fascism’s lash.
It tears apart all that’s “art” —
Hybrid war’s dynamite, fools’ part.
Those zombie armies worse than foes,
Once trampling native lands and homes.
Dark forecasts for the puppeteers,
Spiritual death, a noose appears.
It strangles, kills without return —
Soulless robots, no heart to burn.
Humanity’s scarce in every space —
Thus dawns the age of vile disgrace.
---------------------
Zombies & ****
Zombies crush what’s left of light,
**** fuels lies, sustains the fight.
Soulless bots, no hope remains —
Darkness spreads its cursed chains.
---------------------
Social-Realism’s Curse
"Social-Realism — and what of it... The most hated phrase for me. Social-Realism is art’s death. Social-Realism is art devoured by boors, incompetents, philistines, scoundrels, crooks, fools in high seats. Social-Realism — a term with no true meaning. Social-Realism — nothing, zero, void. Nature abhors a vacuum. So this talentless void called Social-Realism instantly filled with filth and dishonor, **** without conscience or soul. No talent needed to **** this **** called “Social-Realism.” Just know the game, and your bankbooks will grow! Social-Realism means awards and ranks!"
— Oleg Dal, from his diary.
Vysotsky and Dal were crushed
By that nonsense, pure and raw.
Promises of carnal paradise —
Nothing but the vilest law.
A cesspool for the talentless —
A golden breadland’s guise.
But for the folk — the vampires lurk:
First dull the mind’s bright eyes,
Then **** away their honor —
Drain their spirit dry.
Fueled by greed and arrogance,
In devil’s service lie.
Many joined that wretched scheme —
“Cut down, smash, and take!”
Wretched beasts constructing hell,
For creatures made to break.
Built it fast, and just as quick,
To guard their piles of gold —
In savings books and treasures deep —
Their fortunes to uphold.
They crushed the rotten Soviet mess,
That stinking, foul disgrace.
Capitalism reborn anew —
Yet folk sweat in vain’s embrace.
---------------------
Social-Realism’s Hell
Art devoured by **** and greed,
Fools rewarded for the deed.
Vampires **** the people dry,
New chains forged beneath the sky.
---------------------
Changes in the Hellish Spheres
Can Cipollino — just a vegetable —
Defeat the Darkness’ wild assault?
Only demons will be reckoned,
By severing the head’s default.
The former Lord of this cruel world
Will torture, start anew the reign.
The “idols” too will rally fast —
Hell’s reborn to haunt again.
They’ll paint it over swiftly,
Propaganda strong and loud.
Minions sprout up quick as sparks —
“Fatherland’s loyal crowd.”
Claiming worth and iron will,
The farce begins once more.
The sheep will trust these “laws” again —
Blind fools led to the floor.
“New” education dulls the mind,
Turning sheep to empty shells.
Deceit herds all to sacrifice —
A pack of lies compels.
“New” faiths rise with Satan’s base,
Hidden depths of darkest sin.
Only few will pierce the veil —
They’re branded filth within.
Again all sinks to rotten core,
Decay returns to claim the night.
The demon (once a child’s plaything)
Builds his “Super-New” blight.
---------------------
Hell’s New Game
Demon cuts the old king’s head,
New hell’s painted, lies widespread.
Sheep believe the latest scheme,
Darkness fuels the endless dream.
---------------------
A Bad Deal
"A lifebuoy turned a collar tight."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
"Dignity — above all, dignity,
So those who grant the gifts don’t drag you
To the stall and stuff your mouth with hay."
— Yevgeny Yevtushenko
“Saviors,” “rescuers,”
“Givers of gifts,”
Spent great effort —
To turn us all to beasts.
Each put in a collar — from childhood bound,
Only few find strength and means to stand their ground.
But these few can’t shake the herd today:
Reason’s just a mirage — two thirds idiots sway.
Clinical fools, plus a quarter mad,
A rotten deal: devils rule the pad.
A crooked thief just one step below —
This is the state of the world we know.
---------------------
Bad Deal
Lifebuoy turned collar tight,
Saviors drag us into night.
Fools and madmen rule the land,
Devils guide the traitor’s hand.
---------------------
The Land of “Pu-du-gi”
Pu-Pu-Pu — the double’s here, Putler.
Du-Du-Du — a fool who trusts all fear.
Gi-Gi-Gi — but not old ******’s guise:
The Kremlin **** just mocks and lies.
Doors locked tight in “bunker” gloom —
Filming’s canceled, Botox’s doom.
The speechwriter’s lost the knack,
One guard even slipped the track.
Soon the rats will scatter wide —
The ship is sinking, no place to hide.
In Kremlin halls they quake with dread —
All promises are dead and fled.
---------------------
Putler’s Fall
Rats scatter as ship goes down,
Bunker doors and Botox frown.
Kremlin lies have lost their might —
Darkness swallows all their fight.
---------------------
Abomination
Roofs are pierced,
Souls have vanished.
Fainter grows
The Light, now banished.
Crushed from all sides —
No salvation near.
Fascism praised
As if a cure, sincere.
Only fire can burn the pit —
Of fools and fiends that sit
Crooked, spawn of Hell,
In this cursed shell.
Yet the Sun still shines,
Burning filth away.
All this abomination
Will answer one day.
---------------------
Rot Burns
Roofs cracked, souls lost to night,
Light fades under crushing blight.
Fools and fiends, the pit must burn,
Sun will come — their fate will turn.
---------------------
Fight — Don’t Submit!
Don’t trust, don’t bow —
Send fascism to hell somehow.
Build community, unite,
Salvation’s in this fight.
Crush the lies, all lies that spread,
Multiply the truths instead.
Fatal “power” of the herd,
Don’t give them a single word.
Meet force with force — but wise,
Cast off weakness, clear your eyes.
We are nearing final days,
Soul’s salvation in the frays.
Don’t heed **** who preach the dark —
Or you’ll be lost, erased, no mark.
---------------------
Fight Back!
Don’t submit, don’t trust the lies,
Smash the **** before they rise.
Truth’s your weapon, soul your guide,
Stand and fight — don’t step aside!
---------------------
Fascism and Fools
Putler’s old,
But slavery’s new:
The zombie box now rules the crew.
All the fools
Like logs in stacks —
They pile them high, no turning back.
What then? They’ll be laid to rest —
And burned away, if dumb’s the test.
Worldwide fascism’s spread,
The meek fool’s voice is dead.
Lies and hysteria flood the air,
No shore in sight — a sea of despair.
Fools listen, deaf and blind —
Polluted Earth, a world maligned.
The whole world’s lost in sheepish trance —
The herd’s caught in a fatal dance.
---------------------
Global Fascism
Putler rules, the slaves obey,
Zombies march and fade away.
Fools like logs stacked high and deep,
Sheep who follow fall and sleep.
---------------------
Fascist Guts
Fascist guts put on a show:
Bragging, violence, bluff and blow.
Lies — the powder of their hate,
Turning countries into pens of fate.
Donkeys, sheep, and swine abound,
The worst of beasts make up the ground.
Mostly guilty for this shame —
Slaves to belly’s cruel game.
Souls and thoughts sold cheap for swill,
Food and drink their only thrill.
For this, wars sting like poison’s bite —
**** must answer, face the fight.
So few remain with hearts that care,
While beasts grow bolder, thick with snare.
And fascist fools, more cruel, more blind,
Grow darker still, with hate combined.
---------------------
Fascist Guts
Bragging, bluff, and deadly lies,
Beasts that crawl beneath the skies.
Souls sold cheap, the wars ignite,
**** must fall to end the night.
---------------------
Paperwork in the Madhouse
Screen’s black soot,
Easy to *****,
Spews its lies,
“By decree” — rough.
Says only paper,
Without a sign,
Hard to call
A valid line.
These moments show
Madhouse symptoms clear,
That all the world’s
In fascist fear.
Everywhere —
This rotten game,
A global madhouse,
All the same.
---------------------
Paper Lies
Screens spew filth, decree the fake,
Paper’s worthless if no sign they make.
Madhouse grips the world so tight,
Fascism’s shadow blocks the light.
---------------------
“Art”
Lacy husks of second-rate,
All that’s called the “art” we hate.
Nonsense piled to heights absurd,
But when stubborn craftsman’s stirred,
He will raise that nonsense high —
To peaks that scrape the sky.
No middle ground — just good or bad,
A stink, a shoe, a toilet pad,
Can be shown as “art,” you see,
To fools and fools’ society.
Monsters have the orders clear —
“Crush the wise with art’s veneer.”
Flush your strength down porcelain bowls,
Art as valve that drains our souls.
You’ll become a hollow shell,
If in that false hope you dwell.
At first it charms with pretty lies,
Then boredom’s dull, your spirit dies.
Only chaff and fools delight,
The touchy weak cling to the night.
Here the Spirit’s at the core,
No Spirit — just a rotten bore.
Flee the darkness, servants’ schemes,
If you’re yet a wounded dream.
This chaos grinds and grinds you down,
But let them loose — they’ll end the town.
Only Spirit keeps us strong,
Think how to break chains so wrong.
Where’s the spark for Freedom’s flight,
In this half-baked, soulless blight?
It’s a festering sore, a lie,
Feeding rotten hearts nearby.
Hearts that rot as flocks amuse
Their lusts and whims — false comforts’ use.
For fiends the pain is sweet,
Beneath thick fascism’s beat.
Where is fight against that hell?
The shameless art won’t tell.
Shots fired blank, no aim or spark —
All is gloom and bitter dark.
Exceptions? Maybe one or two,
But I ignore the chosen few.
Time for honor, truth to rise —
Yet rot advances, vile lies.
That filth serves fiends on call,
If Spirit’s alive, it must stand tall.
Speak the truth that saves the day,
Sell not your soul or run away.
The world’s in grave, soon cleansed anew —
So cast the thief and lies from view.
Judgment Day will come in time,
Death for servants of the crime.
Only truth will then survive,
While foul art can’t stay alive.
Stench so strong, a butcher’s blade
Could chop this rotten masquerade.
Today through film, the **** convey
Their filthy schemes in foul display.
Reclaim your Spirit, fight the lies —
Too soon to write the Spirit’s demise.
Though in the fight you fall and fade,
Your soul’s saved in the fiery blade.
Say “No!” to fate so dull and cold —
Burn the framed lies you’ve been sold.
If sent by demons’ call,
Stop believing in that thrall.
Mad world’s sailed to Hell’s abyss —
Fight to save your soul in this.
---------------------
Art’s Rot
Second-rate, lace thin and fake,
Craftsmen build the cruelest fake.
Spirit lost — all turns to waste,
Freedom’s spark crushed, dreams displaced.
Fools applaud the hollow show,
Fiends in shadows pull the flow.
Fight the lies, reclaim the flame —
Burn the falsehood, break the shame.
---------------------
Sports on the Zombie Box
"You can easily remove me from the game,
I’m weak before the strong — I shame,
But stop me by force? No, never!
When football calls, I break through clever!"
— Vladimir Vysotsky, 1971
Physical culture — always fine,
Beginner’s sport, a hopeful sign,
Until the Party hack takes seat —
Then sports become a trap and cheat.
In that machine of lies and spin,
The sporting world’s a game to win
By fools whose god is “success” —
A mask to hide the deep distress.
But truth — that “success” is fake,
A curtain drawn for eyes to break.
“Give me a slave of newer breed!” —
The Party hack fulfills the deed.
Energy flushed down the drain,
That’s what this sport will help sustain.
The world’s now in a phase extreme —
Of slavish trance, a dulling dream.
Fools think they’re free to heed
The lies that serve their twisted creed.
With falsehood, one can **** and spite —
While drowning out the inner light.
Distraction’s needed — games are key,
To blind the world we fail to see.
Under fascism’s foul rod,
No country’s free beneath the sod.
Fake countries, fake wins, all bought,
With doping’s poison deeply wrought.
No trace of reason will remain,
Only fear and madness reign.
That Party hack once wore red’s crown,
Now sells his soul, lets freedom down.
He serves fascists with zeal extreme,
Preparing souls for death’s grim scheme.
The goal: to **** the Spirit’s fire,
And wielding lies as dark desire.
Football, archery, fill the mind,
While truth and light fall far behind.
At matches, nations hold their breath —
Blind to the growing shade of death.
The best are killed in darkness deep,
While propaganda’s dung they keep.
The world is one vast lie machine,
Where sport’s the greatest show obscene.
Russia turned to Uganda’s place —
A lost and empty, shameful space.
Even sports are torn apart,
Fascists rule and crush the heart.
One stubborn box of zombie lies
Deludes the herd with empty cries.
The people herd, all over,
Feed them shows and empty cover.
The world has turned to stinking ****,
Where hell’s own “paradise” has come.
Such “sports” reveal the rotten core —
Exposing them leads to Hell’s door.
Only memes remain to spread
The psychic virus — minds are dead.
Seek the Path, build your commune,
Leave this global madhouse soon.
There are still some Men who stand —
Not every soul can be made bland.
---------------------
Zombie Sports
Slaves to screens, the sport’s a trap,
Party hacks run every map.
Fools cheer lies, the Spirit dies,
World’s a stage for twisted lies.
Doping wins and fake acclaim,
Fascist rule, the people’s shame.
Break the herd, reclaim your soul —
Fight the darkness, make it whole.
