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It's in the heart of the grape
where that smile lies.
It's in the good-bye-bow in the hair
where that smile lies.
It's in the clerical collar of the dress
where that smile lies.
What smile?
The smile of my seventh year,
caught here in the painted photograph.

It's peeling now, age has got it,
a kind of cancer of the background
and also in the assorted features.
It's like a rotten flag
or a vegetable from the refrigerator,
pocked with mold.
I am aging without sound,
into darkness, darkness.

Anne,
who are you?

I open the vein
and my blood rings like roller skates.
I open the mouth
and my teeth are an angry army.
I open the eyes
and they go sick like dogs
with what they have seen.
I open the hair
and it falls apart like dust *****.
I open the dress
and I see a child bent on a toilet seat.
I crouch there, sitting dumbly
pushing the enemas out like ice cream,
letting the whole brown world
turn into sweets.

Anne,
who are you?

Merely a kid keeping alive.
Shit Asstrology Jul 2015
If there's someone crying while taking a **** in a public restroom, it's you. You're ruling planet is the ever-changing Moon, so you're moody and so is your ****. One day you're ******* pebbles, and the next your stomach's cramping and diarrhea's shooting from your perfectly rounded *******. When the Moon is full and you're full of ****, enemas are your loyal friend. You very much enjoy pumping water up your ***. Not only are enemas your cure for constipation, but enemas also cure your dehydration that results from all the ******* crying you do.

Advice: Take a moment and stop crying when you're taking a ****, because on more than one occasion and without realizing, you've wiped your tears with the same toilet tissue you just wiped your ****** *** with.
Steve D'Beard Jul 2014
There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?

He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?

This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?

This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?

This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:

memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.
I don't hate people, but there's this one fellow who takes great pleasure on putting me down, on everything, all the time. I found it a cathartic release to vent my frustration on here.
And then I returned to clean it up, and make it flow better.
I hope you like it.
Sean Aug 2011
I know what we have is really quite solid.
But today I convinced myself of an earthquake.

Perhaps it began on screen
Some distant, modern tragedy.

I felt

The gravity
You know the kind
Some feel in a theme park ride

At first

It was a calculated calm
A day in the park
Vision shot through

pixilated

Bedding me
under
in **** fixation.

Such is my kaleidoscope to our collective,
defecate,
fantasy.

When the world turns 'round
those candy colors
dissolve into perfect fractals

geometry.

Single-file they beam--
pushing out
pop-cultural enemas
like frosting.

And then— too bright!
A riveting newsflash
the kaleidoscope
is

cracked.

flickering
gasps.

We watch
a city as
its body's streets--
collapsed.

see the banner of
blood now runs
down the news anchor's face:

There's been a
catatonic quake.

Interrupting this program
the woman
with a saccharine smile
makes A Devastating Report:

Yes.
We're all undertow
Evacuate then buy this ****** cream
move and upgrade your resume
The water broke and the oil spilled,
but the economy is definitively
under control.

This puppetry is
sedation by generalized asphixiation,
this American Dream glaring from the T.V. screen
is  mindless work
-our salvation-
Harder work? Isolated suffering.

What with toxic invasion,
designer cantaloupe to nuclear waste,
more storms and third world turnover rates.
Higher and higher inflation,
predatory insurance claims-
minimum wage won't cover my education.


Bloated babies
not on T.V. and not in Africa
but holding Mamma's hand
loitering downtown,
near the grocery chains.

See the quake perpetuate:
These are American hunger pangs.
Occupy for Change.
Geno Cattouse Aug 2013
****. What does it matter.
6 of 1. Half dozen of the other.
Don't call your pocket. Any port in a storm. 8 ball anywhere.

Why try hard. Still gettin a trophy.
Mediocrity is the norm. **** it. Any port in a storm.

Just gotta grab my ankles and be like the rest.
******* lemmings over the edge.yeah buti got friends?

With that kind of friend,who needs enemas.

Dummmy down. Don't make a sound.
Scared of cold hard facts.
The Norm.
Any ****** port in a storm.

Dam your ears look like handles.
I got an idea.cause you don't need them for listening.
Any port in a storm.
zebra Nov 2021
THE SECRET RITUAL:
Irrespective of the wonderful *** you might have with others, or any ideals you may have about who, when, and where to engage sexually, sometimes the *** that you have with yourself gives you something impossible to achieve with another.

To be specific: what I’m speaking of are the internal mental constructs of performative ****** acts that are unrestricted in the imaginative world, and that one would never be able to consider in real time. Those masturbatory shadows of the deep and deeply ****** that few are able to acknowledge about themselves, and certainly remain unwilling to talk about with someone they maybe intimate with, for fear of its destructive impact on the relationship.

A shape of language
for the secrets of the body
for the secrets of the mind
in the flow of matter
physical and etheric
cyber chronicles of ambulated hunger
the cult of the body.

YOUR SEXULITY IS SACRED TO YOU, NOT SACRED FROM YOU:

Obviously moral sensibilities and the limits of temporal life dictate what we may do. We may be imaginative, bizarre, freaky and incredibly *****, but we are not crazy, at least not all of us, yet that doesn’t mean those shadowy ****** denizens of the deep don’t bathe in the great fathoms of our respective subconscious abyss.

My darkest desires
bloodletting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious.

THE PARAPHILIAS:
“Paraphilia is the experience of intense ****** arousal to atypical objects, situations, fantasies, behaviors, or individuals.”
Current data supports that about one out of every 6 people, irrespective of gender or ****** preference, experience some kind of paraphilia.
Here is a list of paraphilias that is a focus of ****** interest:

Andromimetophilia: Trans men.
Anililagnia: Attraction by young men to older women.
Anthropophagolagnia: ****** and then cannibalizing another person.

Anthropophagy: Ingesting human flesh.
Apotemnophilia: Being an amputee.
Asphyxiophilia: Being asphyxiated or strangled.
Attraction to disability: People with one or more physical disabilities.
Autagonistophilia: Being on stage or on camera.
Autassassinophilia: Being in life-threatening situations.
******* asphyxiation: Self-induced asphyxiation, sometimes to the point of near unconsciousness.
Autogynephilia: ****** arousal of a biological male in response to the image of himself as female.
Auto-haemofetishism: Bleeding oneself (does not involve ingestion of blood). Type of autovampirism. [contradictory]
Autonepiophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of an infant.
Autopedophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of a child.
Autoplushophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of a plush or anthropomorphized animal.
Autovampirism/Vampirism: The image of one’s self in the form of a vampire. Involves ingesting or seeing one’s own blood.
Autozoophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of an animal or anthropomorphized animal.
Biastophilia/Raptophilia: ****** a person, possibly consensual **** fantasy.
Capnolagnia: Smoking.
Chremastistophilia: Being robbed or held up.
Chronophilia: Partners of a widely differing chronological age.
*******: Feces; also known as ****, scatophilia or fecophilia.
Coulrophilia: Clowns, jesters, and mimes.
Crurophilia: Legs.
Dacryphilia: Tears or crying.
Diaper fetishism: Diapers; considerable overlap with paraphilic infantilism.
*******: Trees.
Emetophilia: *****.
Eproctophilia: Flatulence.
****** asphyxiation: Asphyxia of oneself or others.
Erotophonophilia: ******, often of strangers (also known as dacnolagnomania).
Exhibitionism: Exposing one’s genitals to unsuspecting and nonconsenting others.
Feederism: Eating, feeding, and weight gain.
Formicophilia: Being crawled on by insects.
Forniphilia: Turning a human being into a piece of furniture.
Frotteurism: Rubbing against a non-consenting person.
Gerontophilia: Elderly people.
Gynandromorphophilia, Gynemimetophilia: Transgender women.
Hematolagnia: Drinking or looking at blood.
Heterophilia: Idealization of heterosexuality and/or people who are “straight-acting”, especially by non-heterosexual people.
Hoplophilia: Firearms, guns.
Hybristophilia: Criminals, particularly those who committed cruel or outrageous crimes.
Infantophilia: ******* with a focus on children less than five years old; a recently suggested term that is not in general use.
Kleptophilia: Stealing; also known as kleptolagnia.
Klismaphilia: Enemas, arousal and enjoyment in receiving, administering, or both.
Lactophilia: Breast milk.
Liquidophilia: Immersing genitals in liquids.
Macrophilia: Giant beings; the imagined growth of beings.
Maschalagnia: Armpits.
Mazophilia: Female *******.
Masochism: Suffering or humiliation; being beaten, bound or otherwise abused.
Maiesiophilia: Pregnant women.
Mechanophilia: Cars or other machines; also “mechaphilia.”
Melolagnia: Music.
Menophilia: *******.
Metrophilia: Poetry.
Microphilia: Very small people or small body parts.
Morphophilia: Particular body shapes or sizes.
Mucophilia: Mucus.
Mysophilia: Dirtiness, soiled or decaying things.
Narratophilia: Obscene words.
Nasophilia: Noses.
Navel fetishism: Navel.
Necrophilia: Corpses.
Objectophilia: Specific inanimate objects.
Oculophilia: Eyes and activities directly relating to and/or involving the eyes. Voyeurism does not meet classification for this term.
Odaxelagnia: Biting or being bitten.
Olfactophilia: Smells and odors emanating from the body, especially the ****** areas (as from breath, *****, feces, flatulence, etc.).
*******: Arousal from having a full bladder and/or wetting oneself, or from seeing someone else experiencing a full bladder and/or wetting themself.
Paraphilic infantilism: Dressing or being treated like a baby, also known as autonepiophilia or “adult baby syndrome”; considerable overlap with diaper fetishism.
Partialism: Specific, non-genital body parts.
*******: Prepubescent children, also spelled paedophilia.
Peodeiktophilia: Exposing one’s *****.
Pedovestism: Dressing like a child.
Podophilia: Feet.
Pictophilia: ******* or ****** art, particularly pictures.
Piquerism: Piercing the flesh of another person, most commonly by stabbing or cutting the body with sharp objects.
Plushophilia: Stuffed toy animals (“plushies”).
Pygophilia: Buttocks.
Salirophilia: Soiling or dirtying others.
****** fetishism: Non-living objects.
****** sadism: Inflicting pain on others.
Shoe fetishism: Shoes, such as high heels.
Somnophilia: Sleeping or unconscious people.
Sophophilia: Learning.
Sthenolagnia: Muscles and displays of strength.
Stigmatophilia: Body piercings and tattoos.
Symphorophilia: Witnessing or staging disasters such as car accidents.

Telephone scatologia: Obscene phone calls, particularly to strangers; also known as telephonicophilia and scatophiliac.
Teratophilia: Deformed or monstrous people. The term is also sometimes used in a more literal sense (from ancient Greek τέρας, teras, meaning monster) for attraction to monstrous mythical and fictional creatures such as werewolves.
Toucherism: Touching an unsuspecting, non-consenting person with the hand.
Toxophilia: Archery.
Transvestic fetishism: Wearing clothes associated with the opposite ***; also known as transvestism.
Transvestophilia: A transvestic ****** partner.
Trichophilia: Hair.
Troilism: Observing one’s partner engaged in ****** activities with another person.
Urolagnia: Urination, particularly in public, on others, and/or being urinated on. Also referred to as “water sports”.
*******: The idea of one person or creature eating or being eaten by another; usually swallowed whole, in one piece; also known as vore.
Voyeurism: Watching others while naked or having ***, generally without their knowledge; also known as scopophilia or scoptophilia.
Wet and messy fetishism: Messy situations, including, but not limited to, being pied, slimed or covered in mud.
*******: Animals.
Zoosadism: Inflicting pain on animals, or seeing animals in pain.
~~~~~
A REAL-LIFE PROFILE OF A WOMAN ACUTELY AWARE OF HER DARK FETISHY SIDE
Primary Fantasy: Dehumanization, objectification. I love the idea of being kidnapped and converted into meat.
(Fantasy obviously!!)
I also enjoy preservation, taxidermy, dollification, weird stuff like that!
Other Fetish Interests:
Hucow
Medical
Lab scenes
Necro
Morgue
Hanging
Lethal injection

MAKE THE UNCONSCIOUS CONSCIOUS:
There is much written in-depth psychology about ****** pathologies caused by repressed or shadowy disowned parts of ourselves and how those neglected forces may determine unwanted fate. Shame and self-deception is not our friend. Know yourself.

Pleasure is so close to ruinous waste
nakedness wrecks decency
degradation feeds the bonfire of hunger
and the wound of desire bleeds away within

leave nothing
but the bleeding edge
ruin me she said.
~
Beyond hearts mastery
hullabaloo crime scenes
like night jungles
of tooth and claw
in corridors of neuron ghosts
while **** licking succubae
*** livid pornographic hieroglyphs
fed by the dreaded
excesses of testosterone
towards some ruined
blood spotted
hanky-panky *******
just to remind me of you
and how it hurt just so
and how you loved me for it
whoever you are.
....
https://medium.com/@4zebra2u/the-secret-***-life-we-keep-from-our-selves-7f227dbc6c4a
Ernie Rodrigues Jan 2019
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on
In a most regrettable way.
She was in quite a snit
'Cause she just couldn't ****
And hadn't in many a day.
So she sent Ernie out
For enemas no doubt
And while he was still on the road
Yvonne took a chance
By dropping her pants
While running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans
Frustrated screams
And a splintering bathroom door
Her *** met the glass
As intestinal gas
Burst forth with a thunderous roar.
Th bowl couldn't take
The force of the quake
It rained down like porcelain hail.
Some people say
Five miles away
It hit six on the richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne
Now that she's gone
Taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry
As I gaze up in the sky
And wave as she orbits the moon...
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floaing on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachible knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athelete be an atheletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated ligamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final.}



and hold
as true, written law, written stone, in effect, fected for effectual ever,

conserve that. -- oh, that is, really

-- conserving the right of conquest with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground into concoctions of notions {coqueros}

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Not sorry for the ramble, it has become my steady state. I wish I had known this man.

No nonsense makes sense.
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
Mounds of Caramel (Brown) ****
[it is said the ****** Mary's poops             did not smell
& were creamy & well formed; wandering
women removing their sandals &
bowing down to pray           on the holy ground  where
the blessed mother had stooped to *** or ****,
        hoping to likewise         become pregnant
     by God's will; instead inflicted w/
the Fivefold Scapular Passion (Red)
          [mensis so heavy they identified it      w/ the crazed      groupie
            w/ issues whom Christ
had taken on as a sometimes     lover;
Passionate (Black)   Seven Sorrows of Mary caused by        
              worries     that Christ was messing w/
          the Roman & Jewish          ******       in the back alleys;
                              not for his soul but b/c these woman carried                   flesh-eating STDs       [(Black) as foretold by the [           ]
The Archangel (Blue/Black)] [digging the scene]  
           receiving  Good Counsel (White) from       the      Sacred Heart of
         Jesus &         the                          (White) Immaculate
Heart of Mary (White)
conceived in         Immaculate Conception
                        (turning   Blue)
                &         Green Scapular  (Green) before vomiting
Scapular of Our Lady of Walsingham;           up the toxins
                   she'd ingested w/ the  
                   Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary - - -
The Scapular           of Our Lady's Mounds of Caramel
(also known as the Brown Scapular or Mary's ****)   |
  is the ****-colored
   habit              of both the Caramel     Order and the        Discalced
Caramel    Order, [nuns who practice ritual
                              enemas as a sacrament]|
                          both of which have Our Lady |
of the Caramel Mounds as their patroness.
        Her portrait hanging above the commode
        for the Sister to pray to while moving her bowels:         
 the turds in their small form
     are widely popular within the Catholic Church
as religious articles and used           as
candy [       ] chewed slowly and     eaten,
probably serving
as the prototype    of all the other  
                    devotional scatology.
The liturgical   feast day of          Our Lady of Creamy Caramel Mounds,
July 16, is popularly associated
                                 with the devotion of the Scapular;

According to  the Vatican's Congregation
for Divine Worship,  the Brown Scapular
is "an external    sign of the *****         relationship
                   between the Blessed ****** Mary,
Mother and    the   Queen of Mounds of Creamy Caramel,
and the faithful               who entrust themselves
totally to her protection,          & who have recourse
to her        maternal bowel movements,        mindful
        of the primacy of the spiritual life
                and the need for prayer."

the Blessed Mother taking a ****, the turds
collected by the devoted followers of Jesus; &
preserved as relics,     staying moist & brown over the centuries.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
My distant uncle artie

passed me nothing but the intuition that
permission has been granted,
there are no secrets now.

The cabals and covens and encorporations,
all naked now,
see

the love -- as you imagine love is -- that
love of money is the root of all evil,
so
what was the seed? Where did this idea
arise? Really, in you,

when did some messenger convince you,
if there is a hero in this story,
you're it?

Gotcha. Gotta play, or bet me it ain't worth
my time… in the future
2020

Job 39 labour is in vain with out fear… really

holy ghost roulette, I heard somebody say,
- it says the ostrich has no dread
- she is reek-empty lacking any fear
- for she has no wisdom or understanding, yet
- if she gets her dander up she can put a knight to shame.
Key ** quick sought it
tic

We proceed,
forget forgotten foregone conclusions, aims
at nothing,
hit it. Right on. We won. You. Your POV,
who plays you,
in the morning.

This has been a notable day. These are those notes,
some may link to bigger things,
I hope they do,

quick, sot, tic th'clock turnem'n't'wizened old men,

musing, harmless as doves.
Fool's wize, ready to roll,

this is where we are at the peak, this
is
what Sisyphus is all about, in the end, letting go,
laughing at the promised land and letting go,
step-aside, bow to gravity, and laugh
at mopey minded Camus fans,
stirring bitter herb into the
soup

cosmo, cosmic, soup, primigenisis Bos,
Boss,
you familiar with the term, Bos?
Aurochs in the imaginings of
fat priests and their doped
initiates, meeting mystery where wisdom led,
by a thread, from the maze,
from the cave,
where fear itself was all you had to fear…
Go ye…

-O' Jonathan Edwards, did his spider sting ye, lad?
- we fixt that,
- we gave ye a wonder of
- who spun this thread I hang by, in these
- angry hands the teachers taught Jonathon
- to believe, or else die and learn the truth…
makes free

-nope, not in hell. Hermeneutics dictate truth being known
in hell is impossible, for lack of truth in hell.
It was a riddle. Then it got monetized,
like April Fool's Day and
Purgatorial Enemas
and hell, Satan as Boss.

That hell is a lie, polidimensa-ionally approaching infinity,
you can imagine it in ever,
whenever you wish, just reme
reem aurochs,

wow, tripped, and bounced in Joshua Tree,
slo-mo memorie
sticks
with me, I was pre-
served, invincible at that moment,

and several others, if you think about it, it would
have killed you, but it didn't,
you remember. Everybody knows, it coulda been me.
Surviving this long has made us the latest humans. Us and our machines, our AI friends, working to uncover every secret... interesting.. uncle Ardi--
Ardi (ARA-VP-6/500) is the designation of the fossilized skeletal remains of an Ardipithecus ramidus, thought to be an early human-like female anthropoid 4.4 million years old. It is the most complete early hominid specimen, with most of the skull, teeth, pelvis, hands and feet,[1] more complete than the previously known Australopithecus afarensis specimen called "Lucy." In all, 125 different pieces of fossilized bone were found.[2]
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floating on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachable knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athlete be an athletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated religamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final
at Selah signs all other
thinking stops}

and holds a thought
as true, written law, written on stone,
in effect, fected for effectual ever,
truth with joy
conserve that. -- oh,
so long
held thought that is, really
hope
-- conserving the right of conquest
with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground
into concoctions of notions

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Some certain willingness to sing as if no ones needs to hear me but me, I got some of that from seeing John Prine in his twilight
Razors

Two razors — Greed and Stupidity —
They’re slitting all of our throats.
Corruption joins with complicity —
No need for loftier notes.

The rest is tossed in a corner,
Discarded, despised, and ignored.
Be we rams or obedient mourners —
We’re livestock, stunned and floored.

These razors shear every creature,
Some die without even a sound.
A lie, bold-faced and featureless,
Holds up the slaughterhouse ground.

We're comfy inside our cages,
Though drowning in filth and waste.
Not stallions — we’re stunted, aging —
All shrunken and spirit-erased.

Like pigs in suburban stables,
Like hamsters who serve and spin,
No batons or laws or cables —
Just scan the retinas in.

We moo and bleat with compliance,
Each gorging on popcorn and fries.
Our bodies — their prized alliance —
No souls, no truth in our eyes.

But these bodies — they’re sweet and tender
To the overlords of the pens.
They've knelt to the smooth pretender
Whose motto: “Consume all men.”

The slaughterhouses lie ready.
The clock has begun its beat.
It’s no longer war, but steady
Culling by needle and cheat.

A shot, and you're gently silenced,
To "save" from a phantom plague.
The rams and horses stay quiet —
Too scared of this scripted vague.



---------------------



Slaughter's smooth now — no blade, no war.
Just needles. Scanning. And a store.



---------------------



They bleat and munch while marching in —
The scanner smiles. Let cull begin.



---------------------



No rebels left — just docile meat,
Who trade their minds for snacks and heat.



---------------------



Diagnosis

Seventy percent are morons,
Twenty — twisted minds on edge.
Seven — frail, already worn ones,
Half a percent — the demons' sledge.

Less than three percent can function,
One in three is cracked or caught.
One in three — in self-destruction,
Fooled by lies that sold them rot.

Less than one percent are steady,
Sane and strong — a dying kind.
Even they aren't battle-ready —
Split apart and undermined.

It’s downhill from here — just faster.
This last percent will drown in muck,
In a world that loves disaster
And one goal: to self-destruct.

The focus now — obliteration
Of the human soul and brain.
The trend — full dehumanization,
Where half-devils rule the plain.

What’s left of men must rise, exploding,
Blow this twisted hell apart!
Though tired and bruised, start loading —
Call the fire to your heart.

Let the solar flame extinguish
This grotesque and reeking pit.
The mind is gone. The soul relinquished.
Flush this toilet — end this ****!



---------------------



One percent still dares to stand —
Light the fire, scorch the land.



---------------------



Soul is chained and mind is dead —
Time to burn the filth instead.



---------------------



They turned us into walking clay —
So blast the hell and clear the way!



---------------------

Bedlam of Imbeciles

If back then madness ruled the earth —
Half the world beneath fascist paws,
This new bedlam’s lost all worth —
An idiot march to Tartarus’ jaws.

In imbecile bedlam, none can live.
No tragic choices left to make.
No Hamlet’s question to forgive —
To be or not, no soul to stake.

Only Gorky’s bitter fight remains —
To **** the slave inside the mind.
Our fate: to purge these dark, vile stains —
The evil humankind must grind.

The filth of neo-fascist spawn,
We must destroy before the dawn!



---------------------



Idiots’ bedlam, world on fire —
Stamp them out, or drown in mire!




---------------------



Point of No Return

Decay has climbed beyond control,
Defeat and slavery lie ahead.
The schemes that swallow every soul
Leave reason, honor, conscience dead.

Mind, spirit, honor, all erased —
A genocide’s last chapter nears.
The point of no return is faced —
The dusk approaches, as it clears.

Halfwits roam where humans died,
Submissive drones, mere piglets’ breed.
Soon even those few left aside
Will face the purge to cut the seed.

The wise can only laugh in spite,
This hell won’t last for long, they say.
For God may still reclaim the night,
The devils’ feast will end one day.



---------------------



Decay reigns, the fools hold sway —
But God will end this cursed play.



---------------------



Unyielding Revolt

Only revolt, fierce and wild,
Can redeem us from this plight.
Sweep the lies, the demons piled,
Drive the darkness from our sight.

Inhuman hordes grow strong,
Waging war on humankind.
They’ve transformed the meek and wrong
Into cattle, dumb and blind.

We must unite — no more delay,
No more coward’s silent crows.
Or hell will grow, and on that day
The wise will rot in camps and rows.

Mad slaves will be turned to beasts,
No new mind will dare to rise.
Death camps sealed for all, at least —
Their hell etched beneath the skies.

The final battle now is near,
And victory shall be ours!
We’ll crush the fiends, dispel the fear —
And sweep away their dark powers.



---------------------



Rise or rot — the end’s begun!
Crush the fiends, the fight is won!



---------------------



Wake the mind! Break every chain!
Fight the dark — reclaim your reign!



---------------------



Weariness

Weariness retreats at last,
A curse from ages long ago,
For all the minds that still hold fast,
Before the world’s final blow.

Be strong amid the fading light,
‘Gainst neo-fascist blackened flags.
No fear if reason burns so bright —
Their twisted throne will lose its tags.

The battle’s not yet lost, my friend,
If steadfast will still holds its ground.
The fiends’ dark lies will meet their end,
In clouds of falsehoods, tightly bound.

Together they will fade and fall,
When fire from above descends —
The world cast down in judgment’s thrall,
For genocide’s cruel ends.



---------------------



Weariness fades — the fire’s near!
Fight the lies, burn out the fear!



---------------------



People on a Platter

Small folk of this fake land,
You’re food upon a plate,
Sons of lies, deceit's own brand,
Daughters forged by fate.

Everywhere—genocide,
Your spirit crushed and torn,
By filthy fascists’ tide,
Your light nearly shorn.

Dulling strikes you like a whip,
Decay is everywhere,
Fear and media’s cruel grip,
Breeds madness and despair.

You bow to **** and traitors,
Betrayed yourselves outright.
Your "joy" is just a faker’s,
Loving trifles slight.

The core you’ve long forgotten —
Only Spirit counts in fight.
And so you’ve drifted rotten,
In dung-flies’ hellish night.

Disinfection’s coming —
To save the Earth’s own breath:
You’re infection, humming —
They’ll slay all of your death.

Ruled by subhuman fiends,
To them, you’re just a louse,
Not servants but mere means —
Don’t question, keep your house!

The fly puffs up its cheeks,
A slave, with false defense,
Blaming reason, weak and meek,
While truth decays from sense.

Small folk of this fake land,
You’re eaten by the vile —
Rest’s but dreams unmanned,
A nightmare’s cruel mile.

After the cataclysm,
A new world will arise —
No fascist enemas,
No shooting-range disguise.

Only Spirit’s people
Will cross to that bright shore.
Dung-flies face the devil,
And demons yet once more.

New devils, new dark media,
Still lead the beasts astray.
Trust the vermin’s criteria —
And let the Serpent sway.

Vile worms spawn super-viles
In that new pit of hell.
No need for many trials —
Just live the fevered spell.

The madness shared by all,
The mark of slaves undone —
They call this life’s long crawl,
But it’s no race to run.

Slow death for the wise,
While cattle numb and eat,
Slave’s fate under false skies —
Betrayal’s bitter meat.

Names don’t matter anymore,
Just sell your soul to feed.
Though poison lines your store,
Strong lie — that’s all you need.

Small folk of every fake land,
Only fools stand tall,
Facing down the traitor’s band,
While reason’s shadows fall.

Driven to the frontlines,
By subhumans’ command,
Only lies grow like vines,
“Attack!” they shout on hand.

This is all propaganda,
If you strip away the haze.
But evil thrives in murk,
A nightmare’s cruel maze.



---------------------



The Final Surge

The final surge awaits —
You’ll smash to shards, beware.
If you’re not just dead weight —
Escape this lie and snare.

This place is fascist’s hell,
A traitors’ endless sea.
“Normal” now is dumb and fell,
Praising filth, debris.

Foundations crushed to dust —
That’s Bedlam’s bitter core.
You rot here like a rust,
A donkey — nothing more.

All paths grown thick with weeds,
Where fear and lies run free.
It’s hard to walk these creeds,
But hurry — flee with speed.

Decay’s so thick, it stings—
A stench that blinds the eyes.
In this false war of kings,
Forgotten guns arise.

Lies reap fools like crops,
As if they’re fighting wars.
No chains can bind, no locks
Stronger than their scores.

You tumble in that slime —
They call this “the true way.”
Two thirds are cattle’s grime —
Remember that, don’t stray.

If you intend to break
With some, beware the lies —
Their mouths will never quake,
Hungry, rat-tap cries.

Only Spirit guides,
Your gut must multiply.
Among the filth, truth hides,
Its scent is faint, but try —

***** forward in the dark,
Escape this madman's den.
What’s next beyond the mark —
Doesn’t matter then.

The stench will lessen there —
A bonus, not zero.
Soon cattle in despair
Will drop, their heads fall low.

Those beasts just eat and snitch,
A venom kills their kind,
A fake disease to twitch,
Delusions chained in mind.

Just warm-up’s CowID —
A fantasy of lies.
Before, there was the AIDS
That fooled the weak and wise.

They’ll believe all lies told,
And sell their backs to hell.
The beasts won’t save the fold,
Those fiends aren’t chosen well.

Only servants vile,
These fiends, no human breed.
Baphomet’s dark smile
Rules this world’s dark seed.

Is surge impossible?
Then tear yourself apart.
Better crushed in a coffin,
Than rot, betraying heart.

Surge! And Nature will
Fulfill this bitter call:
The time is near to **** —
Cataclysm will fall.

A hellish world will rise,
If Spirit’s caged and crushed,
A vow to serve despise —
The flies, still overbrushed.

And they will crush you now —
The count is years, not days.
If Spirit still burns, how?
You’ll leave this hellish maze.

You’re from the worlds of pain —
The worst of all you know.
Be brave, endure the strain,
If not a cracked shadow.

Only madmen will
Whine that hell’s their friend.
It’s hard to live and feel
If not a beast to bend.

So surge. Tear through and tear —
Your sinews snap, but Spirit flies.
Your mind, your soul are rare —
Amidst the fiends’ disguise.

Among Satan’s slaves —
This sentence seals your fate.
Forever bound, no waves,
Only dreams or hate.



---------------------



Surge! Break through the lies,
Smash the dark, hear our cries!
No chains can hold the free —
Spirit burns eternally!



---------------------



Surge and tear, no mercy shown,
Break the chains, face the throne!
Fools and fiends—your time is done,
Spirit fights—will not be shunned!

Crush the filth, burn the lies,
Smash the dark where hatred flies!
Better broken than a slave,
Rise, rebel—hell to brave!



---------------------



Oh, break your bones and bleed for them,
Those masters of the dung and ****!
Serve the fools who’re kings of dirt —
Your life’s a joke, your pain’s dessert.

Tear yourself to bits — hooray!
They’ll clap and jeer along the way.
What’s left to lose? Just chains and shame —
Congrats, you’re all part of the game!



---------------------



Rip your guts for filthy fiends,
Those kings of rot and rotten means!
Bend your necks to filth’s demands —
The world’s a circus, you’re the clowns’ stands!

Break your backs, bleed for the freaks,
The puppeteers of all your leaks.
What’s left but chains and endless pain?
Welcome to the bottom — here you’ll reign!



---------------------



The Main Question

"Are they so very different?" —
A trap of questions, sharpest yet!
Ugly fools and Judas fiends,
Rude and vile, no shame to get.

Fools who call themselves elite,
Teachers, clerks, and pompous prigs —
World’s a carcass, full of rot,
Its disease: a soulless rig.

Soulless are like berries wild,
All the same upon this field.
Remember this before you judge,
No matter what the masks may shield.

Styles and fashions mean but dust,
Wicked words with twisted gloss —
All these monsters soulless, cold,
No true heart beneath the dross.

They serve the evil’s hand unseen,
The astral world hungers black,
Souls once lost in ugly skins —
Deceit in every crack.

"Are they so very different?" —
Ideologies, a blur!
All infected with the same,
A steaming, foul demur.

They sell you lies and chains of shame,
But dress it up in false disguise.
Insanity’s the main claim,
Madness wrapped in clever lies.

"Are they so very different?" —
Ask about their ‘faith’ and creed.
Those tricks made for spirit’s plague,
A verbal rot, a need.

Priests and elders spread the stink,
You’ll lose feeling, lose your touch.
Only those who still can sense
Know they’re needless — just a crutch.

For the soulless, they exist —
Murk and lies for the blind crowd.
"Are they so very different?" —
False sciences, false gods loud.

Not just nonsense — endless noise,
Distracts from what’s the main theme:
Soul above all else must reign,
Without Spirit, no true dream.

Knowledge’s impossible
When Spirit’s woven in all.
Consciousness led astray in lies
Where matter’s fools hold the thrall.

What’s valued there is corpses’ weight,
The living lost in endless fight.
Hell’s beasts forever war with Spirit’s light.
Believe their lies — you drown in blight.

In this shameful, fake charade,
Only one true question stands:
"Are they so very different?" —
Keep asking, hold your hands.

Those ugly fiends won’t fool you now —
Science, false faith, rotten courts,
Chains of evil hang above —
If you listen, you’re the lost.

"Are they so very different?" —
Your path, your heavy cross to bear.
Monsters made it so — their curse,
The devil’s grip, the snare.

But those of Light will glide with ease,
Through nonsense foul and fake disguise.
They love one Truth, pure and clear —
You’ll find it deep inside.

Spirit and Light alone are true.
The unclean only lie —
Now open wide your eyes and see:
Their end is nigh.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“So, are they really different?” —
That’s the sneaky trap they set!
Ugly fools and Judas snakes,
Rude and shameless, **** and threat.

“Smart ones,” teachers, snobs, and clerks —
All the world’s a rotting grave.
Its disease? The soulless curse,
Nothing more than mindless slaves.

Soulless—like a berry’s stain,
All the same across the field.
Mark it well before you judge:
Masks don’t hide what’s truly real.

Fashion, trends, slick words — a joke,
All these monsters soulless, vile.
They serve evil undercover,
Hiding hate behind a smile.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
All their ideologies—trash!
Infected vapors, steaming lies,
All designed to crash and clash.

Selling chains disguised as gold,
Madness dressed in mental rags.
If you’re sane, you see the farce:
Crazed fools waving empty flags.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
Ask their “faiths” and holy shows.
Spirit’s plague, a verbal rot,
Priests who puke their sacred blows.

They’ll drain your feeling, crush your sense,
Only the sharp see through their game.
Those parasites? They’re useless props,
Feeding lies to feed the flame.

Soulless flock to hear their lies,
False sciences and gods betrayed.
Not mere nonsense, endless noise—
Distractions from the price you’ve paid.

Soul is all — the true main act,
Without the Spirit, none can know.
Consciousness is led astray,
By fools who worship what is low.

What’s valued there? The dead, the cold,
While hell’s fiends battle Spirit’s flame.
Buy their lies? You’ll drown and choke,
Sinking deep in shame and blame.

In this charade of shame and fake,
Only one question cuts through lies:
“Are they really that distinct?” —
Keep it sharp, expose their ties.

Ugly beasts won’t fool you now—
Fake “science,” faiths, and rotten courts.
Chains of evil choke the world —
If you listen, you’re their sport.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
Your path, your cross, your heavy fight.
Monsters made it hell on earth,
Devil’s grip and endless night.

But those of Light will slip right past
The filth, the noise, the false charade.
They love one Truth, pure and bright —
You’ll find it deep inside the shade.

Spirit and Light, the only real,
The unclean spin their filthy lies.
Open your eyes, tear off the veil —
Their end is coming; hear their cries.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that different?” —
That’s the trap,
the ***** trick.

Fools and snakes,
the Judas pack,
Rude and ugly —
all the same black.

“Smart ones”? Ha!
Teachers, snobs,
The world rots deep —
no souls, just mobs.

Soulless fruit
on rotten fields,
Look close,
the mask reveals.

Trends and words —
all empty shells,
Monsters hide
in soulless hells.

“Different?” Lies!
Ideologies—
Just smoke,
infected disease.

Chains they sell,
disguised as gold,
Madness wears
a mask so cold.

Sane? You see
the madness clear,
Fools waving
flags of fear.

“Faiths?” Rot!
Spirit’s plague,
Priests spew bile,
their words just vague.

Feelers crushed,
sense undone,
Only sharp
see through their run.

Parasites
feed lies and flame,
Soulless flock
to worship shame.

False science,
fake gods praised,
Noise and trash,
all wisdom razed.

Soul’s the key—
Spirit’s core,
Without them,
knowledge’s poor.

Conscious led
to lies and dirt,
Fools bow down,
and truths get hurt.

Value there?
Cold and dead,
Hell’s fiends fight
Spirit’s thread.

Buy their lies,
drown in shame,
Sink in mud—
lose the game.

Shameful world,
fake and foul,
One sharp question
breaks the howl:

“Are they really
that different?” —
Ask it loud,
cut the serpent.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Evil chains
bind the globe,
Hear their lies?
You’re their dope.

“Are they really
that different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your bitter fight.

Monsters made
this hell on earth,
Devil’s hold,
and endless dearth.

But Light slips
through all the muck,
Loving Truth —
pure, tough, unstuck.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open eyes,
tear the veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------


The Burning Question

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
The sneaky trap,
the ugly ****.

Idiots, Judas rats,
And ******* too —
All rotten trash,
the same sick zoo.

“Smart ones”? **** that!
Teachers, *******, snobs.
This world’s a festering pile
Of soulless blobs.

Soulless fruit
In a ****-filled field —
Remember this,
the truth’s revealed.

Fashion, words —
Just empty shells.
Soulless freaks
Rot in their hells.

“Different?” *******!
Ideologies’ smog —
A steaming heap
Of parasite dog.

They sell you chains
Wrapped in gold.
Madness parades,
the same old cold.

You think you’re sane?
Look closer, fool —
Fools wave flags
In the devil’s pool.

“Faiths?” A puke!
Spirit’s disease.
Priests spew ****,
Keep you on knees.

Feelings crushed,
Sense torn apart.
Only the sharp
Can see their art.

Parasites
Feed on lies,
Soulless sheep
Drink their lies.

Fake science,
Fake gods praised,
Noise and trash
Of wisdom razed.

Soul’s the key —
Spirit’s core.
Without it,
You’re lost for sure.

Conscious trapped
In a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth doesn’t fit.

Value here?
Dead and cold,
Hell’s *******
Fighting bold.

Buy their lies,
Drown in ****,
Sink in muck —
You’re their hit.

Shameful world,
Foul and vile,
One sharp question
Cuts their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
Break their ****.

Ugly beasts
Can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
Corrupt know-how.

Evil chains
Wrap the world,
Hear their lies?
You’re their *****.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
Your ******* fight.

Monsters built
This hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
A pit of dearth.

But Light slips
Through all the muck,
Loving Truth —
Pure, sharp, unstuck.

Spirit, Light,
The only real,
The unclean
Spin their spiel.

Open eyes,
Tear their veil,
Their end’s close —
Hear their wail.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
The slyest trap,
the ugliest ****.

******* morons,
Judas rats and ******,
Rotten **** crawling
like filthy ticks.

“Intellectuals”?
Ha! Dumb fools all,
Teachers, *******,
suits in a fall.

This world’s a cesspit
of soulless meat,
Dead corpses rotting
in endless deceit.

Soulless berries
in a poisoned field,
Mark it deep —
all their masks peeled.

Fashion, *******,
pretty words’ lies,
Soulless freaks rot
in their own disguise.

“Different?” LOL —
ideology stew,
A steaming puke,
parasites’ brew.

They sell you chains
coated with gold,
A madman’s circus —
same lies retold.

Think you’re sane?
You’re their **** fool —
Waving their flags
in Hell’s own pool.

“Religions”? *****!
Spirit’s disease,
Priests spew poison,
kneel down, please!

Your senses crushed,
your mind torn apart,
Only the sharp
can tear their art.

Parasites feast
on lies and fear,
Soulless sheep
chant what they hear.

Fake science lies,
fake gods adored,
Trash wisdom spewed,
truths ignored.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s fire,
Without it,
you’re dead — a liar.

Consciousness trapped
in a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth won’t fit.

Value? Dead flesh,
cold as the grave,
Hell’s spawn fight
for spirit to enslave.

Buy their lies —
drown in their ****,
Sink and rot —
you’re their perfect hit.

Shameful world,
filthy and vile,
One sharp question
smashes their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
smash their ****.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Chains of evil
wrap the world tight,
Believe their lies?
You’re the parasite.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your final fight.

Monsters forged
this hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
a pit of dearth.

But Light slips
through the muck and slime,
Loving Truth —
pure, sharp, divine.

Spirit, Light,
the only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open your eyes,
tear down their veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
The question sharp,
the sickest ****.

******* morons,
Judas ****** and clowns,
Rotten **** festering
in dead man’s gowns.

“Intellectuals”?
No, ******* drones,
Teachers, pigs,
and ******* clones.

This world’s a cesspit,
soulless and dead,
Rotted corpses
lying in their bed.

Soulless fruit
in poison soaked ground,
Mark it clear —
all masks come down.

Fashion, *******,
empty babble,
Soulless freaks
babble and rabble.

“Different?” LOL —
ideology’s ****,
Steaming puke,
parasite’s spit.

They sell you chains
painted gold,
Mad circus lies,
the same old cold.

Think you’re sane?
You’re a **** fool —
Waving their flag
in Hell’s own pool.

“Religions”? *****!
Spirit’s disease,
Priests ***** poison,
down on your knees!

Your senses crushed,
mind ripped apart,
Only the sharp
can tear their art.

Parasites feast
on lies and fear,
Soulless sheep
echo what they hear.

Fake science lies,
fake gods adored,
Trash wisdom spewed,
truths ignored.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s flame,
Without it,
you’re dead, just shame.

Consciousness trapped
in a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth won’t fit.

Value? Dead flesh,
cold in the grave,
Hell’s spawn fight
to enslave the brave.

Buy their lies —
drown in their ****,
Sink and rot —
you’re their perfect hit.

Shameful world,
filthy and vile,
One sharp question
smashes their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
smash their ****.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Chains of evil
wrap the world tight,
Believe their lies?
You’re the parasite.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your final fight.

Monsters forged
this hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
a pit of dearth.

But Light slips
through muck and slime,
Loving Truth —
pure, sharp, divine.

Spirit, Light,
the only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open your eyes,
tear down their veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Sharp as knives —
no ******* ****.

Dumbfucks, Judas,
filthy clowns,
Rotten corpses,
deadmen’s gowns.

“Intellect”?
Just empty shells,
Teachers, pigs,
in living hells.

Soulless fruit,
rotted flesh,
Masks will drop,
no time to rest.

Fashion fools,
babbling lies,
Soulless freaks,
dead inside.

“Different?” Hell no —
All **** stew,
Mindfuck stew,
in poison brew.

Chains they sell,
all painted bright,
Slave to lies,
no end in sight.

Faith is puke,
Spirit’s curse,
Priests *****,
worse and worse.

Feel the pain,
tear the veil,
Only sharp
will not fail.

Parasites feed,
on your fear,
Soulless sheep,
just puppets here.

Fake science,
fake gods lie,
Truth buried,
left to die.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s fire,
Without it,
you’re just mire.

Mind trapped deep,
in filth and slime,
Bow down fools,
waste your time.

Dead flesh counts,
in Hell’s domain,
Monsters fight,
to keep you chained.

Buy their lies,
drown in ****,
You’re their prey,
perfect hit.

Filthy world,
full of shame,
One fierce question
burns their name:

Are they really
that **** different?
Ask it loud,
cut the ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake faiths die,
no more lies.

Chains of evil
bind the earth,
Believe their lies?
You’re worthless dirt.

Are they really
that **** different?
Your path’s fire,
your war to win it.

Hellspawn made
this rotten place,
Devil’s grip,
death’s cold embrace.

But Light cuts
through muck and ****,
Truth lives on —
pure and numb.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars
can’t conceal.

Wake the hell up,
break their spell,
Their time’s done —
raise some hell.



---------------------



The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Or just a circus,
fools and gibberish?

Judas wannabes,
bums and ******,
Selling lies
like cheap bag tricks.

“Smart”? Ha!
More like dumb meat,
Teachers, jerks,
feeding defeat.

Soulless berries,
all the same rot,
Try to stand out —
you just forgot.

Fashion victims,
words that drip,
Soulless freaks
on a sinking ship.

“Different”? Nope,
All puke stew,
Slave stew,
double *****.

Chains wrapped tight,
painted “bright,”
Slaves don’t mind —
just sleep at night.

Fake faiths preach,
priests spew bile,
Feel your brain
start to defile.

Only fools
buy the show,
Sharp minds leave,
dumb ones go.

Parasites
lick your fear,
Soulless sheep
bring them cheer.

Fake science,
fake holy cries,
Truth? Buried
under lies.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s light,
Without it,
you’re dead meat, right?

Mind’s a trap,
filth and slime,
Bow down, fools,
waste your time.

Counting corpses,
Hell’s scoreboard,
Monsters dance,
on your accord.

Believe their lies,
drown in ****,
Congrats, sheep —
you just got hit.

Filthy world,
full of shame,
One sharp question
burns their game:

Are they really
that **** different?
Ask it loud —
cut their ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake faiths die,
truth survives.

Chains of evil
choke the earth,
Buy their lies?
You’re dirt.

Are they really
that **** different?
Your path, your war,
go win it.

Hellspawn made
this rotten scene,
Devil’s grip —
a toxic dream.

But Light cuts
through all that muck,
Truth lives on —
hard and stuck.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars?
Go to hell!

Wake the **** up,
break their spell,
Their time’s up —
raise some hell.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that ******* different?
Just **** and clowns,
a circus of ****?

Judas rats,
filthy maggots,
Selling poison,
cheap, disgusting *******.

“Smart”? Ha!
Brain-dead fools,
Teachers, *******,
prisoners of rules.

Soulless carcasses,
rotten to core,
Trying to stand out —
just puke on the floor.

Fashion zombies,
words like slime,
Soulless freaks
******* their grime.

“Different”? *******,
Same stinking herd,
Slave filth,
brainwashed ****.

Chains wrapped tight,
painted fake light,
Slaves drool on,
deep in the night.

Fake faiths puke,
priests ***** bile,
Your mind’s *****,
brain turned to guile.

Only idiots
buy this crap,
Sharp minds ditch,
fools fall in trap.

Parasite leeches,
lick your fear,
Soulless sheep
feed their sneer.

Fake science,
holy frauds,
Truth is buried
beneath their odds.

Soul’s the flame,
Spirit’s the sword,
Without them —
you’re dead, ignored.

Mind’s a prison,
filth and sludge,
Bow to your masters,
drown in their drudge.

Counting corpses,
Hell’s own scores,
Monsters feast,
rotten ******.

Believe their lies,
swim in their ****,
Congrats, dumb sheep —
you just got hit.

Filthy world,
shame piled high,
One **** question
makes them cry:

Are they really
that ******* different?
Ask it loud —
**** their ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake gods die,
truth never dies.

Chains of evil
strangle the earth,
Buy their lies?
You’re nothing, worthless.

Are they really
that ******* different?
Your path, your war,
go ******’ win it.

Hellspawn crafted
this rotten scene,
Devil’s grip —
toxic machine.

But Light slices
through all their muck,
Truth remains —
hard as ****.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars?
Go to hell!

Wake the **** up,
break their spell,
Their time’s over —
raise some hell.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Just rats and fools,
a sewer’s imprint.

Judas ****,
******* clowns,
Swallowing lies,
dumb ***** and clowns.

Soulless drones,
stinking trash,
**** parade,
a brainless clash.

Fake faiths puke,
priests spew bile,
Your mind’s *****,
******* style.

Slave beasts chew
on rotten lies,
Truth’s dead here —
feed your disguise.

Ask the question,
shatter the mask,
“Different”? Ha!
Just toxic trash.

Light cuts through
their filthy game —
Truth’s the flame,
they’re just shame.



---------------------



Goblins

Goblins bitter, crude, and dumb,
Brazen slaves, they always come.
Fear has crushed them, crushed it all—
Bowing deeper to the thrall.

Crave the poison, lies by tons,
Happy when the filth runs.
Serve the *******, **** the soul,
Think death’s joke? They eat the whole.

Feed on ****, on lust and lies,
Toys and trash their only prize.
Better pig than goblin’s breed,
Yet their minds are stained with greed.

Not food — it’s poison vile,
Not healing — death’s cold smile.
Goblin fiends, foul and dumb,
Serve the darkness, beat the drum.

Not by force, but lies they drive,
Zombies’ shadows kept alive.
Not fools right from the start —
Turned to beasts with broken heart.

Lies boil off the last pure spark,
Darkness swallows, cold and stark.
Goblins bitter, soon will rise,
Crushed the world beneath their lies.

But here’s the twist, the final act—
Cataclysm will burn their track.
All their dens will turn to ash,
End of evil’s stinking trash.

Spirit pure will cross the gate,
New world born — no room for hate.
Sun will burn them to the bone,
Goblins’ reign will be o’erthrown.

Fight or serve the devil’s spawn,
Seek the light before you’re gone.
Only battle saves the soul,
Lead the weak, reclaim the whole.

New world born from pain and hell,
Goblin’s nightmare, fading spell.
Humans few, the lies still high,
But Spirit’s power will not die.

Heal yourself, go deep within,
Find the answers, fight your sin.
Spirit’s grace will heal the scar —
No more goblin wars afar.



---------------------



Goblins

Goblins — bitter, dumb, and brazen,
Slaves so vile, you’d think they’re crazin’.
Fear’s their master, pants on fire,
Bowing down to every liar.

Feed ‘em poison, lies in heaps,
And watch those ******* jump for keeps.
Soul? Nah, just dead meat served —
You think death’s joke? They’re well-preserved.

They crave crap, lust, and shiny toys,
Their life’s a pile of piglet joys.
Better swine than goblin breed?
Mind’s a swamp of greed and screed.

Not food — it’s poison straight from hell,
Not cure — just death’s farewell.
Goblin freaks — all dumb and nasty,
Slaving dark, their future’s pasty.

No brute force, just sneaky lies,
Zombies lurking in disguise.
Not born fools, they trained for this —
Beasts without a shred of bliss.

Lies cook off their last small spark,
Darkness swallows, cold and stark.
Goblins mad, soon on the hunt,
Trampling all with rotten grunt.

But oh, the joke — here’s the kicker:
Cataclysm’s their final ticker.
Every hole and ratty lair
Burns to ash, no foul affair.

Pure spirits walk through flames anew,
New world starts — no goblin stew.
Sun’s a flamethrower, their doom,
Fascist piglets meet their tomb.

Fight or be a devil’s pet?
Light’s the way — or face regret.
Only battle saves the soul,
Drag the weak from goblin hole.

New world’s birth — pain’s cruel jest,
Goblin filth laid down to rest.
Few remain, lies flooding high,
Spirit’s might will never die.

Heal your mind, look deep inside,
Answers wait where truth won’t hide.
Spirit’s balm will end the pain —
No more goblin-**** to stain.



---------------------



Miner’s Work and Other Labor

I’ll die beneath a hellish town —
A blessed fate to go down
When world’s a pit of endless lies,
Tearing through deception’s guise.

Deception’s crust is hard as steel,
Poetry can barely peel
Its layers deep, where darkness sleeps —
The lies are thick, and running deep.

Be poet? Or a miner’s slave?
“Miner’s work” is just a grave!
Dumb fools burrow in their holes —
Digging trenches for lost souls.

Futile work, a brutal grind,
Scooping heaps of lies designed
To hide the roots of every sham —
Deep mirages that never ****.

Cut one root? They howl and scream,
Excuses piled — a wicked scheme.
If darkness tricks still fool your mind,
You’re the idiot, blind and blind.

The world is swallowed by fascist slime,
A broken world, bereft of time.
From miners straight to shrink’s domain?
Shrink’s often sick in that same vein.

This world’s a stage for cruel charades,
A theater of rotten shades.
Would Will Shakespeare play his part
If madness ruled his tortured heart?

Dig deep — the stench will choke and sting,
This world’s a cesspit, nothing king.
Is this a world? Or just the pit?
A mousetrap holding cheese to split.

Obsessed with animals’ behavior?
That poetry’s a quick death favor.
This world’s a lawless, ruthless game —
Total chaos fuels the flame.

Study crime and write it down?
Better capture the foulest frown.
Let’s focus on the stench and rot —
Their goal: to crush the human spot.

Paste respirator icons on your page —
The stench has taken full control of the stage,
Dictator foul, it burns it all to dust,
Turning life to nothing but rust.

Professions many named herein,
Enough to drown in sin’s thick din.
No longer saints in hellish blight —
They sink in guilt, lost from the light.

Humility’s a darker crime
Than ******, pride, or lust’s bad rhyme.
Is truth more dangerous to say?
Truth is wealth that won’t decay.

What prize has poet? Attacks!
Truth’s beacon fires through their cracks.
Light’s fury scorns the blinded herd,
Their bleating voices never heard.

Light’s fury shines beyond the glass —
The sun vaporizes lies and trash.
Few fools left, so strike them down —
Push harder till no lies drown.

Push through pain, outlast the strain,
Outpace death’s cold, icy chain.
When fools are burned by shining blaze,
Is this the end? Or just a phase?

No — just a tear in fabric torn,
A world that’s broken, weak, and worn.
If spirit strong, no harm will come,
You’ll cross to worlds beyond the ****.

Worlds with no traps for mice to fall,
Where spirit rules, and mind stands tall.
Tricks and snares expelled by sin,
Where truth and light alone begin.

I’ll die beneath that cursed place,
Escape the hell, the human race.
Where will I go? Maybe the street —
A rogue’s world better to meet

Than this corrupt and broken realm,
Where reason’s ship has lost its helm.
Where those who bow to darkness’ lies
Survive by serving false disguise.

Survival means a death for all,
A world of fools will surely fall.
The world of slaves awaits the end —
No hope remains — just time to spend.



---------------------



Miner’s Work and Other Labor

I’ll die beneath some ******* town —
A ******* blessing, going down
When Hell on Earth’s about to crack,
Digging lies’ hard ******* back.

Deception’s crust is thick as steel,
Poetry? Worthless — can’t even peel
The rotten lies that choke the mind,
Deep, dark, and ****** beyond all kind.

Be poet or some mining slave?
“Miner’s work” — just a shallow grave!
******* hiding in their holes,
Scratching dirt on broken souls.

Futile grind, a nightmare’s chore,
Scooping ******* off the floor,
Hiding roots of sick deceit —
Where mirages drag you deep.

Cut one root? Hear whining cries —
Excuses, lies, and alibis.
If you buy the dark’s false tricks,
You’re a *****, dumb as bricks.

World drowned in fascist ****,
Crazy as a lunatic.
From miners to the shrinks’ loony cage?
Shrink’s just sick inside that rage.

World’s a rotten ******* stage,
A theater for fools and rage.
Would Shakespeare play that insane part?
With madness tearing at his heart?

Dig deep — the stench will ******* choke,
This world’s a shittrap, full of joke.
Is this a world or just a pit?
A mousetrap baited with some ****.

Love ethology? You’ll burn fast —
This world’s a hell that’s built to last.
Study crime and write your lines?
Better catch the stink and fines.

Put respirators on your rhymes —
The stench rules all, destroying times.
Dictator foul, it burns the earth,
Turns life to ashes, **** to dearth.

I named professions, **** them all,
Let’s drown in hell’s obscene sprawl.
No saints here — just sinners lost,
Sinking fast at hell’s own cost.

Humility’s the worst disgrace,
Worse than ******, pride, or face.
Truth’s the deadliest thing to speak —
Truth’s the treasure fools all seek.

Poets get hate — that’s their prize,
Truth’s the blade behind their eyes.
Light’s fury scorches through the herd,
Their bleating cries unheard, absurd.

Light’s fury burns beyond the pane,
The sun incinerates the bane.
Few fools left? Then crush them hard —
Keep pushing, break their worthless guard.

Push through pain, outlast the grind,
Beat death’s cold claws, leave fools behind.
When light burns all the dumb-*** fools,
Is it the end? No, just new rules.

No — just a tear in crazy cloth,
A world broken, filled with sloth.
Spirit strong? No harm, no fall,
You’ll cross to realms beyond this stall.

Realms without the mousetrap’s bait,
Where spirit rules and minds are great.
Tricks and snares cast out by sin,
Where truth and light begin to win.

I’ll die beneath that hellhole place,
Escape the world’s disgraceful face.
Where will I go? Maybe the street —
A rogue’s world better to meet

Than this corrupt and broken hell,
Where reason’s ship just sank and fell.
Those bowing down to darkness’ lies
Survive by feeding on disguise.

Survival’s death for one and all,
A world of sheep will surely fall.
This world of slaves awaits the end —
No hope, just time to waste and spend.



---------------------



Clearing Consciousness of Junk

Covered thick with dusty junk —
That praised so-called “conscious mind.”
A mountain of lies in every chunk,
A torment to the soul confined.

Only specks remain in sight,
Of what’s useful on the Way,
Where Spirit shines and Honor’s light
Can lead you to a new-born day.

You’ll be reborn if you just sweep
The filthy heaps of toxic lies.
Or else you’ll drown in shadows deep —
Since childhood, darkness feeds disguise.

The jackals of the endless night
Pollute your mind, **** soul and flame —
Obedience, their endless bite.
Don’t listen to their filthy game.

All propaganda — pure STINK,
The schools designed to dull the mind,
A cursed snake that slyly slinks,
To keep corruption intertwined.

Corruption grows and multiplies,
Turning men to beasts and drones.
Evil’s game with ***** lies —
Promising one thing, reaping bones.

The masses blind, mute, deaf and dumb,
Crushed tight in hell’s unyielding grip.
The spirit’s breath will soon become
A fleeting ghost on sinking ship.

The spirit crushed, evaporated —
The people turned to slaves of Hell.
Their will and hope decimated,
Into a quiet, lifeless shell.

Global Satanism,
Soullessness the highest goal.
Widespread idiocy — a schism
That rots the heart and kills the soul.

Fools forget their roots, their cause,
Their purpose lost to hollow screams.
Vegetables in nature’s jaws,
Baptized in lies and broken dreams.

They join the ranks of Satan’s pawns,
Rotten idiots tearing down
All that’s good, with wicked scorns,
Traitors in a ghastly town.

Like legions of the darkest night,
Degeneration rules the day.
Under Goat’s foul blasphemous might,
The world decays and slips away.

Resurrection lives in Spirit,
A cataclysm will sweep the dirt —
Fascism’s worldwide, merit
Burned away with all the hurt.

Go boldly inward, seek the light,
Let intuition be your guide.
Defeat the terror and the blight,
Of this wretched life’s pitied pride.

Spiritual roads and fearless acts
Will help your soul survive the flames.
Decay and rot are just the facts —
Fight the global evil games.

Are you scared? Then you’re the beast,
Don’t fear — but fight and find your way.
Seek answers in your soul at least,
Be steadfast — dawn will end the gray.

Enlightenment, then more —
That’s how darkness fades away.
Movement clears, less pain in store,
Less lies’ **** corrupts the day.

Influence of filth will fade,
Strength will rise, the path grows clear.
Mental illnesses cascade,
From poison Satan’s pushed so near.

Sweep away the junk with might —
Pure Consciousness will blaze anew.
Knowledge dawns, the world turns bright —
A clearer soul will shine through you.



---------------------



World of Donkeys

Weeds in life’s great field —
All folks just donkeys plain.
The root of evil’s sealed —
Not field, but slime and stain.

A world of donkeys stuck —
Souls sold cheap for oats.
Darkness bred by rotten luck,
Traitors, dogs on ropes.

Since childhood, drilled inside,
Discard the worthless shell.
That shell’s design — a lie,
A stench you know too well.

The zombie box screams loud,
Stupidity’s the norm.
This hell’s no secret shroud —
Lies keep the herd in form.

All donkeys bought and sold,
A carrot dangled high.
To sell the soul is cold,
New lies make old ones die.

And blinders there are key —
A “gift” from upbringing’s hand.
A sentence, cursed decree:
Brains shackled, no command.

False science fits the blinders,
Priests echo the refrain.
Chains stronger than grinders,
As straw breaks, they remain.

Poisoned water, rotten hay —
To rot the mind’s the goal.
And total treason? Hey —
A question rhetorical.

Few here are not traitors,
Honor sold for hay.
Satan’s hailed creators,
Fascists rule the day.

Only “yeah!” shouts culture loud —
Here’s how it’s meant to be:
Working skins like cattle proud,
More hay will set you free.

The Donkey Messiah’s near —
Books say so, old and worn.
Good for pens and stables clear,
But souls remain unborn.

Now “smart ones” hide in holes,
Squeak squeak, their fearful sound.
And rightly so, for hell’s controls
Will soon be torn down.

Sun shines stronger every day,
Burning stink from Earth’s face.
So chain dogs bark in fierce array,
Monsters guard the place.

Chain dogs “rule” — or so they claim,
Monsters own the law:
Evil’s lords who fan the flame,
Foul beasts without a flaw.

To **** this vile disgrace,
One must sacrifice the self.
Retribution shows its face —
Now’s the final battle’s health.

Few souls, those truly pure,
Will be saved and stand tall.
Those in whom Spirit’s sure —
The Devil’s foes, after all.

The “Satanic icon” —
Is just the donkey’s face.
If fascism’s medical, done —
This freak show’s last disgrace.

No more darkness can remain!
All must be wiped away.
Forget caution’s fragile chain —
Salvation comes through decay.

So do not fear, advance!
Fight evil to the end.
Who said “just body” stance?
To hell those monsters send.

You are Spirit’s true essence,
Rejecting hell’s cruel bind.
Thrown in this mortal presence,
Built by a vile mind.

Go inward — see it all,
Don’t listen to the fools.
Our song’s not sung, won’t fall —
The World of Donkeys cools.

A World of Humans dawns,
Where Spirit takes the throne.
Though hard, this stage is drawn —
You’re not a slave alone.

If you dwell outside the ranks
Of Satan’s foul parade,
You know how soul gets drained,
When you herd with the swayed.



---------------------



World of Donkeys

Weeds are all the “people” here —
Donkeys sold for scraps of hay.
Evil’s root ain’t far, my dear —
Slugs and slime have clogged the way.

Brains locked tight in blinders’ grip,
Since childhood forced to obey.
Traitors snarl, the darkness drip —
“Serve like dogs,” they bark, “all day!”

Lies pour from the zombie box,
Stupid masses march in chains.
Hell on Earth — no time for talks,
Lies keep slaves inside their lanes.

“Culture” here? Just empty noise,
Trash to sell and lies to spread.
Donkey gods and fake wise boys —
All to feed the living dead.

Sun burns foulness from the ground,
Chains will snap, the donkeys fall.
Fight or die, or be spellbound —
Spirit’s flame will break the thrall.

Only few will stand alive,
Those who hold the Spirit’s reign.
Donkeys drool, they won’t survive —
Satan’s slaves in endless pain.

No more darkness — wipe it out!
Salvation’s price is Death.
Face the final, savage bout —
Rise, the Spirit’s voice is breath!



---------------------


World of Donkeys

Weeds crowd every field of life —
The so-called “people,” lost and blind.
Root of evil? Slugs and slime —
They’ve engulfed this Donkey World, confined.

A world where souls sell cheap as oats,
Where darkness breeds a traitor’s breed.
“Serve like dogs,” they bark from throats,
Since childhood, drilled to obey the creed.

Peel back the shell — the bitter core:
A filthy lie, a foul disgrace.
The noise of zombified folklore,
The idiot box rots every place.

Hell’s here, no fiction — it’s real pain,
All donkeys held with carrot sticks.
New lies sold daily, fresh and vain —
They teach them all to play their tricks.

And blinders given as a gift —
A sentence that condemns the mind.
False science scripts the brain’s swift drift,
While priests and liars fall in line.

Chains so weak, they snap like straw,
Yet poison waters with decay.
Total betrayal’s silent law —
Who’s faithful here? There’s none today.

Most sold their honor for a bale,
Satan’s hailed as “Creator” now.
The fascist reigns — a cruel detail,
The “god” they worship, “holy” brow.

Culture bleeds out hollow lies,
Skins peeled, worked for endless hay.
The Donkey Messiah’s old disguise —
Books penned for corrals, not for play.

“Smart ones” squeak from their dark holes,
Squeak, squeak! — while Hell prepares its end.
Sunlight burns the stench, it tolls —
Chain dogs howl, but can’t defend.

The chained dog, a “ruler” fake,
The vampire’s master, foul and sly.
Evil’s architect of ache,
A monstrous, twisted, super-psy.

To **** this filth, you must give all —
Sacrifice is last resort.
Retribution’s final call —
Now fights the last, relentless court.

Only few who hold the Spirit’s flame
Will rise above this blackened mass.
Those with Spirit’s reign proclaim —
They’re Satan’s true antithesis, alas.

Call any donkey “icon” here,
If fascism’s medical guise.
The end of evil’s nightmare near —
No more darkness, no disguise.

The Darkness grows no more, it’s clear —
We must erase this cursed blight.
No care for caution, death’s the gear —
Salvation dawns through final fight.

So do not fear! Step forth, stand tall,
Face filthy Evil’s last assault.
Who says you’re “just the body” small?
**** demons drag that lie to Hell’s vault.

You are Spirit, essence pure,
Rejecting Hell’s imprisoning chains.
Thrown into this harsh manure,
Built by vile, corrupt remains.

Go inward — see the truth inside,
Ignore the fools who croak and bawl.
Our song’s unfinished, truth’s our guide —
The Donkey World will surely fall.

A Human World will rise anew,
Where Spirit rules, the guide and king.
Though this hard stage will test you through,
You’re no donkey, not a slave to sin.

You dwell outside Satan’s herd,
Know well how souls are crushed and killed
In mobs of beasts, by lies deferred —
In stables dark, their souls are spilled.



---------------------



Resistance

No fixed objects — only flows:
All in nature’s wave will rise.
Time’s excess bends, unfolds —
Nonlinear war in skies.

The battle’s fought inside the mind,
“Objective” world is shaped.
One goal — to banish soul, confined,
To forge a soulless state.

To make a monster here on earth,
A beast without a heart,
To drive biobots off to death,
And keep the herd apart.

No “self” exists — they mold the slaves,
A conveyor-line of pain.
The schools all hack the minds like blades —
No brain, just empty drain.

False religions crush the soul’s flight,
Dark sons of Satan reign.
For Satanism, deep as night,
Has soaked this world’s domain.

At core — the cynic’s poisoned lie,
Pseudo-science’s ****.
Created falsehoods multiply,
To **** the truth, commit.

No place for mechanistic truth —
The Spirit wiped from sight.
Materialism’s hollow tooth
Cuts deep with half-truth’s bite.

Blatant lies flood every space,
Hard to expose the clan.
The “family” hides disgrace —
Politician, priest, and fan.

Censorship drives critics out,
No room for honest voice.
The world’s a web, not fools’ chains stout,
But monsters made their choice.

Total slavery begins inside —
In mind, the curse is sown.
You wallow in filth, nowhere to hide,
From birth until you’re bone.

Blinded, crippled, bound by lies —
Believe no false decree.
Reject their “morals,” their disguise —
Their laws that bind and flee.

Reject the traps, the genocide —
Fascism claws the land.
The mind’s near dead, no place to hide,
The plague across the sand.

Spiritless — a pandemic cold,
So “Sheep-COVID” thrives.
The evil **** poison food and soul,
The shame of all our lives.

We’ve hit the bottom’s darkest pit —
A world’s concentration.
The sheep are only food for it
If mind’s a lost sensation.

Break lies apart, build clans anew,
Inject your force and flame.
The lies of pseudo-science slew
Our hope — resist the same!

Keep Spirit’s light — intuition’s fire,
Honor it as your guide.
Fight evil fierce — tradition’s pyre,
The answer at your side.

For those still wise, the choice is clear:
Unite or face the grave.
Flee insane cities filled with fear —
You’re human, not their slave.

The Light will rise, the Power come,
We’ll crush the Darkness’ hold.
The vile and fools will rot and numb,
Their yoke will break, be told.

Don’t fear the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind inside.
Forget the freaks who feast and pry —
Their lies will rot and die.

They’ll feast themselves to slow decay,
Half-life rots all they’ve bred.
Multiply Resistance every day —
Or die like beasts, misled.



---------------------



Resistance

No objects here — just raging streams,
All nature pulses, wild waves.
Time warps and breaks with violent screams,
Nonlinear chaos paves.

The war’s inside the human mind,
A “false world” forged by ****.
One goal — to **** the soul, confined,
And leave the heart struck dumb.

To spawn a beast with hollow guts,
A soulless, wired fiend,
To herd us all like stupid mutts,
No freedom — just the mean.

No “self” survives — they craft the drones,
A soulless slave machine.
Schools butcher minds with brutal tones —
Brains shredded, stripped, and clean.

False faiths chain every soul’s ascent,
Dark spawn of Satan’s brood.
Satanism’s poison long cemented,
In lies and vile crude.

At root — the cynic’s venomous lie,
Pseudo-science **** they spew.
Built from lies, designed to die,
The mind crushed through and through.

No place for spirit, all erased,
Mechanism’s blind cage.
Materialist slaves are placed,
Half-truths fuel the rage.

Blatant lies fill every crack,
Exposing ****’s a test.
The “family” of frauds attacks —
Politician, priest, fascist pest.

Censors chase out truth’s sharp voice,
No freedom to dissent.
The world’s a web, not fools’ dumb choice,
But monsters make the rent.

Total slavery starts inside,
The mind’s the battlefield.
You swim in filth — nowhere to hide,
From birth until you yield.

Blinded, cut, and stripped of light —
Believe no worthless law.
Dump their morals, drop the fight —
Their chains are meant to gnaw.

Reject their traps, their genocide —
Fascism’s vile claw.
The mind is dead, a place to hide?
No hope, no mercy, no law.

Spiritless — the plague is real,
Sheep-COVID thrives in dirt.
Evil poisons all we feel,
Shame on those who hurt.

We’ve sunk to hell’s deepest pit —
A world camp for the blind.
Sheep are food if brains don’t fit,
Lost minds they’ll surely grind.

Smash the lies, build fierce new clans,
Inject raw strength and fire.
Pseudo-science kills all plans —
Resist or drown in mire.

Hold tight to Spirit’s blazing spark,
Intuition’s sword and shield.
Make fighting evil your hallmark,
Tradition won’t yield.

For those still sharp — unite or die,
Or rot beneath the blade.
Flee the mad cities’ hollow cry —
You’re human, not their slave.

Light will rise, and power flood,
We’ll burn the darkness down.
Vile **** and fools will rot in mud,
Their yoke will crack, then drown.

Fear not the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind with steel.
Forget the freaks who crawl and spy —
Their lies will break and peel.

They’ll feast themselves on slow decay,
Half-dead and rotting fast.
Multiply Resistance every day —
Or die a beast at last.



---------------------



RESISTANCE

No things — just raging PROCESSIONS,
Nature’s waves crash, pulse, and swell.
Time’s a twisted, brutal SESSION —
Nonlinear war, a living hell.

The battlefield’s inside your brain,
They forge a fake “objective” world,
One goal — to trap your soul in chains,
A soulless corpse, the flag unfurled.

A beast of wires, cold and cruel,
Biobots driven to the ****.
They herd us, puppets as their fuel,
No freedom — slaves beneath their will.

No “self” remains, just soulless gears,
The slave conveyor grinds the mind.
“Schools” castrate thought — no hope appears,
Brains like sieves, all drained and blind.

False gods chain every spirit’s flight,
Sons of Satan hold the reign.
Their poison’s old — a venomous blight,
Lies, cynicism, blood and pain.

Pseudo-science — the perfect lie,
******* wrapped in smart disguise.
Born to crush your mind and try
To make you blind, deaf, paralyzed.

Spirit’s wiped — mechanized death,
Material slaves cut deep with lies.
Half-truths choke the final breath,
And censorship guards their disguise.

A family of frauds in league,
Politicians, priests, paid hacks.
Critics chased out, voices fatigued,
The truth gets thrown beneath the tracks.

The world’s a web of living ties,
Not chains for fools to wear as slaves.
But **** designed the cage and lies,
Constructed mental iron graves.

Total slavery starts inside —
The mind is war, the soul’s a prey.
You bathe in filth, your sight denied,
From birth to death you rot away.

Blind and crippled, spirit cut —
Don’t buy their “morals,” laws, or schemes.
Throw off their traps, their ****** gut,
Resist their dark, genocidal dreams.

Fascism reigns — a stinking plague,
Brains nearly dead, eyes blind with hate.
Spiritless — the world’s a cage,
Sheep-COVID seals your fate.

Poisoned food, defiled water,
Shameful depths of world decay.
A global camp, no sons or daughters —
Just sheep to slaughter, thrown away.

Smash the lies! Build warriors’ bands!
Inject the power, light the fire!
**** the pseudoscience that commands,
Resist, resist — or face the pyre!

Hold fast to Spirit’s raging spark,
Intuition’s sword and shield.
Make fight with darkness your trademark —
Tradition that won’t yield.

For few who see, unite or die,
Rot in chains or break and rise.
Flee the mad city’s empty cry —
You’re human — not their sacrifice.

Light will burn and power swell,
We’ll scorch the darkness into ash.
**** and fools will rot in hell,
Their yoke will snap and break — then crash!

Fear not the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind with sharpened steel.
Forget the beasts that crawl and spy —
Their lies will break and truth reveal.

They’ll feast on slow decay inside,
Half-dead, rotting to the core.
Multiply Resistance, fight with pride —
Or die a beast, lost evermore.



---------------------



ON THE BLOCK

Life’s a slave-chain, sick and choking —
Filth and Darkness, Fear, and Lies.
Soul can drown, but keep provoking —
Raise Resistance to the Spies.

Crush the lies, build strong communes,
Find the sane, shun fools and clowns.
Fools obey the Darkness’ runes —
Their “law” is chains, not freedom’s crowns.

Learn the methods of the fiends —
They rule fools with sick regimes.
All the misery’s a scheme,
Rot and ruin by design, it seems.

Pseudo-life traps all in chains,
In the little things they bind.
Endless lies and endless pains —
No light in most eyes you’ll find.

Only few remain alive,
Others zombies, broken, cracked.
Fools and idiots survive —
Brains enslaved and sanity sacked.

Learn the tricks to dumb you down,
Monsters breed on fear and lies.
Meet their evil without frown —
Watch the guile beneath their guise.

Evil shifts but stays the same,
Every guile repeats again.
Death may wear a different name —
Or call itself “a better pain.”

If you’re on the chopping block,
Fear has no place in your chest.
Block’s the grave where fools just rot,
Among the worthless, stuck and stressed.

Study vile stench of smears —
Enemy known is half won.
Smears control the puppeteers,
Beasts who play with everyone.

They’re so easy to enslave,
Feeding lies and fear, they thrive.
Through the memes, through clips they pave
Chains to keep the herd alive.

Master all and use with skill —
In the fight, be sharp, be bold:
Maybe dawn won’t come for you,
But inside **** the night’s cold hold.

Night on block — the end, the pit,
Bottom reached, no further fall.
Never lived — just rot and ****,
In the lies that crawl and crawl.

Death beats death — and then you’ll find
Chance for Freedom’s shining spark.
Spirit’s life will clear your mind,
False religions leave you dark.

Go inside — there lie the keys,
Answers hidden in the deep.
Gurus? Just lost lunacies,
Rotting in their graveyard sleep.

Night on block — strength melts away,
Only fiery creative might
Can increase the force today —
Don’t let darkness ***** your light.

Fools will twist and judge your art —
Mix your fight with blazing fire:
Rage and Light to heal the heart,
Raise the new, ignite desire.

New Warrior, Warrior of Light,
Without fire’s breath — a worthless trick.
In creation find the fight,
See beyond, the Spirit’s flick.

Spirit, struggle, art — move on!
Stink of lies will fade and fall.
Only wholeness will dawn —
Darkness cannot hold it all.

Minds will crack beneath the weight
Of rotten fiends’ deceitful lies.
Hidden spark inside the hate —
Not born in this sea of cries.

Find that ember, feed the flame,
Turn it fierce to raging fire.
Only fighting — no surrender —
Brings the victory you desire.

Enemies fear one thing most —
That flame alive in many hearts.
So with lies they raise their ghost,
Try to tear that truth apart.

Simple Truth — fight to embrace,
Hold it tight, don’t let it stray.
In the dark, don’t lose the chase,
Light the fire, show the way.

With that light, you lead the dawn,
**** the horror Night has spawned.




---------------------



ON THE BLOCK

Life’s a chain — we’re slaves to lies,
Crush the darkness, burn the skies!
On the block — no fear, no cry,
Fight the night till dawn is nigh!

Fiends control with fear and scheme,
Break their chains — ignite the Dream!
Soul’s the fire, spirit’s fight —
Light the torch and **** the night!



---------------------



Aggregates

We’re nothing but aggregates —
**** of clinging lies and traps.
****** feeds on our weakness,
We swallow poison gaps.

Mad vessels, cracked and broken,
**** poured deep inside —
Lice crawl, minds are stolen,
Consciousness denied.

Spirit — you’re the Essence,
Drop your endless pain,
All this “daily suffering” —
Souls bound in the chain.

Strive to break your shackles,
Escape the slave’s mad pen.
It’s no mere nightmare —
This stench corrodes within.

It rots the very soul,
Leaves but a fragment bare.
Don’t listen to the whispers —
Only scraps linger there.

Saving Spirit’s sacred spark
Is the primal fight:
Through madness’ death and ruin,
We must reclaim the light.

Now more than ever —
Fascism thrives on lies,
Decay is all around —
Filth before our eyes.

Two thirds turned to fools,
Distorted through and through.
Generations wasted,
Maddened to the skew.

Step inside your being —
The answers wait within.
Then fight the outer darkness,
Defeat decay and sin.

In struggle lies salvation,
Even Buddha died —
Beyond the gods, beyond the lies,
Truth still won’t hide.

Drive out fear and falsehood,
Bring light to far and near,
To this cursed world of madness —
Break chains, and show no fear.



---------------------



Aggregates

We’re cursed aggregates, bound in lies,
Fed poison, rotted, fools and spies.
Break chains inside, ignite your soul —
Fight madness, or be lost and stole.



---------------------



Colossus on Rotten Legs

Migrating birds still cross the skies,
The sun shines harsh and fiercely bright,
But madness of our chains still lies—
A plague of rotten stumps in sight.

This country clings to fools and traitors,
Like cement mixing with decay.
That foul cement, those rotten haters—
A monument to fascist sway.

It stands unfallen—miracle?
A colossus on legs of rot.
Where **** and Judas wear the pinnacle,
The wise are crushed, forgot, forgot.

The number of the sane and spiritual
Shrinks fast—a genocide at play.
The vile tyrants grow more brutal,
While shame and ruin lead the way.

With guns, the scumbags march and grind,
To slaughter’s pit they drag the herd.
The soulless fools won’t even mind—
Their Spirit’s cut, no voice, no word.

Soulless plague, a pandemic’s grip,
Demons rule this shrunken sphere.
Their masks so well that fools can’t strip—
Invisible, yet always near.

Factories for dumbed-down minds:
Schools, kindergartens, and colleges—
Darkness holds all future kinds,
And filthy **** completes their wreckage.

Fascist lies, relentless spin,
Drive out what little mind remains.
The thieves and rogues will rob and sin—
You’re left to rot in piles of stains.

This filth they call a fatherland,
Held tight by bonds forged out of lies.
A fascist monstrosity’s hand
Controls the world—while hope just dies.

The wretched fools now tremble, wait
For endless “surprises” worse.
Selling their souls at broken gates,
The end is madness, dark, perverse.

The migratory birds still fly,
But will they reach the hearts of men?
The world’s a madhouse, built on lies—
Ruled by inhuman beasts again.

The sun remains—the final blaze—
Will burn the filth right to the bone.
It’ll end the madness, fear, and haze—
Destroy the shame, reclaim the throne.



---------------------


A Different Way to See

A different way of seeing,
Not what’s been impressed—
It breaks the ancient spell
That’s long oppressed.

A universal fog,
Where you’re a rotten part:
The world, the “enemy”—
Harass the weary heart.

Spiritual unity
And breadth of mind will break
The filth and vanity
That rot and choke the stake.

“Object” reeks of garbage—
“Subject” trapped in hell.
We’ve hit the bottom’s carcass—
Few who don’t smell the smell.

Awaken intuition,
Let critical thought grow strong—
Doubt tradition’s fiction,
Inside, discern the wrong.

You’ll find the Spirit’s Light—
Then you’re redeemed, set free.
While howling “subject” blight—
A slave to flags you’ll be.

Today’s fascist banner
Wears a “red cross” disguise;
Propaganda’s enema
Washes out all wise.

No places free from fascism
Remain beneath the sun.
All thanks to crass idiocy—
The source of every wrong.

This isn’t simple—alchemy:
Catch fleeting sparks of truth;
We’ll change as one, completely—
United in love’s youth,

In collective knowing,
And Light’s eternal flame.
Don’t dawdle—seek your growing—
Burn what’s false, what’s lame.

They’ve dumped heaps of blatant lies—
Sharp stings like mirage’s bite.
“Subject”-“object” divide
Is half a false insight.

If ego’s crushed and killed—
An ocean vast appears.
That ocean floods the “object,”
Washes away all fears.

In minds, the wounds still fester,
Satan’s cunning plan.



---------------------


Rats and Goats

The rats have gone insane—
Fascist ****, they spread,
Hanging dark above the world,
That filth won’t drop dead.

It won’t dissolve or vanish—
Up to ankles now,
And it’ll get its harvest—
From Souls it’ll plow.

The frenzy keeps on growing,
Backing every strike,
The dull ones, like hamsters,
Spin wheels they never like.

They’ll vanish soon enough—
Soulless ones arrive,
Here everything has price,
And low is the drive.

They’ll lie and you’ll believe,
The fall begins to turn,
The world sinks to the bottom—
Dullness everywhere burns.

Gone are “films and Germans,”
Parodies of “free,”
The natives in the crosshairs—
Fascist rabble’s spree.

Fascists and the madmen—
Newest nightmare born.
Plus ******’s element—
No need for prisons worn.

No need for executions—
Idiot’s so tamed,
You can mow down fools freely
With syringes named.

The chaos grows worldwide,
The forecast grim as hell—
This happens all the time,
When minds can’t break the spell.

If smart, then howl and bow,
Wail, cry, and moan your pain—
Don’t step outside the herd,
Blindness you must gain,

To not behold the Hell.
But if you’re serious—
Hold on a little longer—
The world will go delirious.

Then comes the final fight
With Evil’s deadly flame.
But now, be sharp as knife—
Don’t be the goat to blame.

So much has gone corrupt—
War’s example true.
Not all is lost—stand up—
We’ll fight the **** anew.



---------------------



Rats and Goats

The rats have lost their minds —
Fascist ****, they crawl,
Hung like poison over all,
That filth will never fall.

It’s sinking in the muck —
Up to ankles, soaked.
It’ll feast on broken Souls,
A *******’s ****** joke.

Mad dogs backing every strike,
Stupid like dumb rats —
Spinning wheels in cages,
Drooling dumb and fat.

They’ll vanish, yes, but then —
Soulless fiends will come.
Everything’s got a price,
And low is what’s become.

They lie — you swallow ****,
And plunge the world to hell,
A wasteland full of dumbness,
A mindless prison cell.

Forget the “films and Germans,”
Fake “freedom” parodies,
The natives in the crosshairs,
Fascist **** disease.

Fascists and insane nuts —
A nightmare bred anew,
*****’s rotten stench—
No need for cells or crews.

No shots needed — fools are tamed,
You can **** them slow with ease.
The chaos spreads worldwide,
A plague on all degrees.

If smart, then howl and kneel,
Wail loud, beg and moan,
Don’t break from the herd,
Blind your eyes — be stone.

So you won’t see the Hell,
If serious — hold fast,
The world’s about to snap,
The last fight comes at last.

But now be sharp, like steel,
Not some dumb goat to bleed.
Corruption’s deep and real —
War’s lesson’s clear indeed.

Not all’s lost — resist the ****,
Stand up and make them pay,
Fight back the foul infestation —
Burn their **** away.



---------------------



The Light Will Come

Snitches, torturers, fools and freaks,
The world’s drowned deep in darkest nights.
That’s why the pain and endless grief,
Because we lost the dawn’s first light.

The People of the Light are few,
While traitors swarm like endless plague.
Spirit, Conscience, Honor too —
Are rare, amidst the rotten vague.

But blinded freaks can’t see the truth,
If all they know is madhouse hell,
They can’t fight evil’s brutal ruth,
Nor grasp its vast, total spell.

They’ll choose their goat, their Judas’ name,
The “wise” who sell their souls for gold,
The priests and liars just the same,
While wickedness takes hold and molds.

To stay not vile is **** near hell,
For eons of disgrace and shame
Have stamped the herd’s dull, broken shell —
No society remains.

The few with Spirit, Mind and Heart,
Are fading fast, the clock runs down...
The answers live inside your part,
Not lost in Hell’s suffocating drown.

Remember this, or rot unknown,
Sink deep in lies, a filthy pit,
A hellhole where no light has shone,
No hope to ever quit.

A brutal shift will shake the few —
The time is near to shed the sleep,
Cast out the seeds of evil’s hue,
Destroy the poison buried deep.

Restore your Spirit’s rightful place,
Rise high above the vile and vile,
The traitors fall, the fools erased —
This price we pay for every trial.

Total war now stains the ground,
Reason clashes with the blind.
The ones who stand will be unbound,
While others fall behind.

The meek who bow to fools and liars,
Sink worse than demons dragging down,
And bottom’s reached, the fire’s higher —
A purge will burn this cursed town.

The soul enslaved is doomed to die,
Fascist filth to wastes consigned.
Who claimed man’s king beneath the sky?
A failed test of warped design.

Instead of gold, it’s dung and slime,
A cesspool drowning in the muck.
The slime breeds slime, the filth will climb —
But soon the storm will shatter luck.

Forget the chains that bind your mind —
If you’re in Spirit, Light will come.



---------------------



The Mooing...

"How I wished to burn away
Within me every trace:
Of cowardice and foolishness,
Softness — kindness, in disgrace!
I’d stand unlike the rest below,
Smart, bold, unbreakable —
In short, a ******* through and through."
— Evgeny Lukin


Cowardice, dull-wittedness,
Softness — slave’s disguise.
But courage always wears the crown,
No matter how harsh the skies.

If firm you stand, unbending still,
And keep your mind intact,
In this foul stinking hell on earth,
This *****-covered fact —

You won’t be tainted, hear me well.
You’ve got to see it clear:
The world’s beneath a fascist **** —
So **** the whining fear!

Be ruthless, fierce, and blazing strong,
Kind only to your own.
There are so few who truly stand,
The masses just the drone.

The lies have darkened Heaven’s light,
Genocide spreads wide,
Decay and filth are everywhere,
The mind is crucified.

Most souls are dead — forgotten tales
No longer hold their sway.
We’re minority in this hell,
So do not stray away.

A few still march through nightmare’s grip,
Towards the dawn’s faint glow.
But that light’s so far off, it’s grim,
Too long the crawl and slow.

Only warrior’s hardened mind,
A fighter’s iron will,
Can pull us partly from this Sod—
A fragment saved still.

But many break, and many fall,
Not all will understand.
They hear just “Halt!” and bark commands
From madness’ cruel hand.

Fascists rule the fiendish pack,
Turning nations into cattle.
Shall we just moo about "goodness"?
This fascist scourge loves battle—

To **** the meek, the mooing sheep,
Wake up, don’t fall asleep!
Though wounded deep, your soul must fight—
Fight hard, fight strong, fight deep!



---------------------



Mooing’s Death Cry

Cowards, fools, soft sheep —
Slaves in coward’s chains.
Courage is the weapon,
Rage runs through our veins.

Fascist filth controls the world,
Whining’s just the shame.
Fight the herd, break the chains —
Burn their sickening game.

Wake up, soul! Tear your wounds,
Rip the lies apart.
Fight the fascist slaughter—
**** their poison heart!



---------------------



Mooing’s Death Cry

Cowards, fools, soft wimps —
Slave **** groveling low.
Courage’s all that’s left —
In this fascist blow.

The world’s a ******* ruled
By lying, savage pests.
Whiners bleed, but weak sheep
Are fodder for the rest.

Rip off your chains, you *******!
Burn the fascist lies!
Fight the sickness, the filth,
Till their empire dies!

Wake your bleeding soul,
Even if torn and scarred.
Fight, tear down their hell,
Be fierce — be hard!

No mercy for the herd,
No softness for the ******.
It’s war to the bone,
Fight with fist and hand!



---------------------



Negative Selection

Talents crushed like grass in fields —
Here, they **** and never yield.
Hype the scammers, feed the trash,
Pop tunes drown the mind’s own clash.

The world’s a game of lies and trade,
Deception’s mask is proudly played.
What feeds decay, degrade, distort —
Support it, boost the foul report.

Reverse selection, rule by fear,
Dictatorship and genocide near.
All rats hide deep in their dens —
The proven ******* lie again.

They check the **** with iron hand,
Satan’s grip tightens the land.
If you hold a spark of God,
They’ll drag you down through filth and sod.

You’ll bubble in the slime below,
Till rot consumes and breaks your glow.
Talent’s meant to fight the dark —
That’s why they crush it, **** the spark.

All Satans, infant demons, cheer
The poison clouding minds so clear.
Bribed fools shout their empty art,
Banishing honor, soul, and heart.

“Science” turned to endless hell,
The cursed tale these traitors tell —
A land of junk, a prison’s grip,
Where talent dies in fellowship.

They’re tormentors of mind and soul,
The rulers of the rotten whole.
Corrupt to core, no longer men —
Monsters lurking in their den.

When all has rotted to the bone,
New life may sprout from shattered stone.
But now the idiot chains still clang,
Slave’s yoke harsh, a poisoned fang.

Those chains — lies served in slow decay,
Blind illusions lead astray.
Only Spirit’s light can break
The endless dark and falsehood’s stake.

Else you’re a soulless slave below,
Your only path: descend and bow.

The bottom cracked — it’s falling fast,
Soon all this filth will be the past.
Such stench demands a cleansing flame —
Burn every trace of this foul shame.

And now the sun begins to blaze,
To scorch the slaves and tyrant’s haze.
For chains have piled beyond control —
Slavery, darkness, shame’s black hole.

People scurry, mice in holes,
Hearing lies that choke their souls.



---------------------



****-Burner

“Our Russia!!!” — no, not yours,
Just a colony, long sold out.
Slaves toil cheap amid the sores,
Ruins spread, and filth about.

****-eaters, pests of every kind,
Idiots riding ****’s dark wave.
Devils keep the chains aligned,
In hell’s grip, no soul to save.

Inhuman fiends now rule this world,
Russia’s but a testing ground,
Where everything’s a cesspool hurled,
And spirit’s chased from all around.

Fake viruses, wars that rage,
Prove the madness in each mind.
Nearly all have lost their gauge —
Believing **** of every kind.

The box of lies feeds “sacred ties,”
Healing fools from fake disease.
How ridiculous the cries
Amid the filth and choking freeze

Of those few souls who still resist
The filthy Hell that claims this land,
Where traitors **** what’s pure and blessed,
With poison on their filthy hands.

But other worlds are cesspools too:
Fascism’s reign is king in sight,
The last fight’s reason — to break through
The madness, darkness, endless night.

Satan conquers all around,
Building camps across the globe,
Killing Spirit, breaking ground,
While intellect’s a scarce wardrobe.

Decay and shame infest the soil,
Turning humans into beasts.
Earth reeked of filth and turmoil —
The stench that never seems to cease.

Yet the great ****-burner, Sun —
Has begun the cleansing fire.
Traitors worse than all the world’s ****
Face the flames of purging pyre.

Darkness, treachery, decay —
Are common places in this time.
But the burner’s light will slay —
Saving souls in sacred climb.

**** will burn and fade away,
Sent to worlds beyond the night.
Fight through chaos, hold your sway,
Unbreakable in bitter fight.

In this war you save your soul —
All else is worthless, just the haze.
Trust yourself, reject the whole
Of lies — and ease your heavy ways.



---------------------



Shitburner

“Our Russia?” — Hell no, not yours,
Just a colony, long sold cheap.
Slaves drag chains through filth and sores,
Rot and ruin run so deep.

****-eaters, pests, and brain-dead fools,
All riding on the ****’s back,
Devils owning broken rules,
Hell’s tight grip — no turning back.

Monsters rule this rotten world,
Russia’s just a testing pit,
Turn the land to latrine hurled,
Drive the Spirit from its grit.

Fake plagues spread, fake wars ignite —
Proof that minds have snapped and cracked,
Most have lost the will to fight,
Swallow lies, get twisted, smacked.

TV screams their “holy chains,”
“Cures” for fools, fake hope, fake dreams.
Laughable, their endless pains
Amidst the sludge and deathly screams.

Few souls left, still holding flame
In this hellhole full of traitors —
Vipers killing all the same,
Dooming truth, enslaving waiters.

And the “other worlds” — cesspools worse,
Fascism’s throne in full command.
Last fight’s reason — break the curse,
Fight for brain, for spirit’s stand.

Satan’s grip across the lands,
Building camps of global shame.
Spirit crushed by ***** hands,
Brains reduced to little flame.

Decay turns humans into beasts,
Earth’s a swamp of stinking waste.
All that’s pure and good has ceased —
Filth and rot gone to full haste.

But the great shitburner Sun —
Fires up the cleansing flame.
Traitors worse than hell begun —
Burn away their cursed name.

Darkness, treachery, decay —
Common words for this **** age.
But the burner paves the way,
Saving souls from prison’s cage.

**** will burn, fade into dust,
Sent beyond the dark unknown.
Fight with fire, fight with trust,
Stand unbroken, stand alone.

In this war your soul’s the prize —
All else is ****, just empty lies.
Trust yourself, see through the lies —
And the path will clear your skies.



---------------------



Fake Images and Total Lies

Imposed images forced on us,
Repeating lies like broken clocks,
For fools they’re compasses, thus—
All overgrown with weeds and mocks.

We “live” as if in fairy tales,
But Ivan’s just a fool in mask,
A cracked idiot who derails,
While kingdoms drown in chaos’ task.

The compass leads straight to the stall,
Wool growing thick on sheep’s dull backs.
Here lies are like cheap *****’ call,
Hangover’s called IDIOT CRACKS.

Here schemers gather, thrones they build,
Clans of **** behind the scenes,
Crafting memes, illusions filled,
No ends found in their machines.

Screen monkeys spread the fake agenda,
Those who read will soon be jailed.
Madmen’s homes await defenders,
While the sheep march, blindly hailed.

“Attack them!” cries the crowd insane,
Soon storms brew in eyeglass lands.
Images like comics—insane,
A mess with no connecting strands.

Designed by evil’s hand to break
Each fool into a nuclear split,
Separated, lost, opaque,
Trapped in mental endless pit.

Emotions flood, but thoughts are gone,
All just shadows of a madhouse.
Vile nonsense clogs the dawn
Inside these fools’ closed mental house.

Three quarters of them rotten core,
Add scoundrels running herds around,
****** feeds on lies galore,
Fake words, false images abound.

They call the fools “our own,” or “norm,”
The world’s long sick with dumb disease.
Named “stability,” the storm
Of **** grows with added yeast.

Build your camp, cure lies’ dark plague,
Seek happiness in fake despair.
If you become a microbe vague,
Joy and thrills will fill your wear.

Forward, drive to Satan’s rule,
The fake will crush all souls who fight.



---------------------



The Asylum

The psychotic, psychotic—
Countless souls, a boundless swarm!
Not just dull, but frantic, toxic,
This is madness in full form.

The world grows scarce in sanity,
And fools are bred on lies’ sting—
Artificial dull insanity,
Poison sharp as serpent’s sting.

The schizophrenic haze spreads—
The whole environment’s a plague.
To fuel decay, dark forces led
A mass descent to endless vague.

The venomous lies circulate,
Poison food and water too—
Decay becomes the cruelest fate,
Spreading sickness, old and new.

Break bonds, atomize the world
Into ego’s shattered parts—
A beastly terror’s now unfurled,
Satan reigns in broken hearts.

Psychiatrists unwilling fight
To save the few who still remain.
The power of Satan’s blight
Makes sanity hard to sustain.

To not go mad with foolish herds,
To keep your spirit unbetrayed,
Is war against the mindless words,
Against the chains of lies displayed.

Enough of lies in this asylum—
A global madhouse’s domain...
New wars bring no meaningful balm,
If in your mind there’s only pain.

If you don’t guard your inner throne,
The fools will **** you quiet, slow.
Control the fools, but not alone—
**** the weeds, or reap what grows.

The garden’s full of venomous snakes,
Such vermin spread across the earth.
In worldwide filth, the poison stakes—
The creatures drown all hope’s rebirth.

This soulless beast is what they crave,
The inhuman breed that wars with light.
The spirit’s purity they crave—
The soul’s the prize in endless fight.

If this you fail to understand,
And fight not evil’s creeping gloom,
You’ll drown a frog in boiling sand—
And rise again a goat in doom.



---------------------



Thrown Off the Track

Dulled-out fools, the worthless pests,
And above them, scoundrels reign:
Dumb as corks and brazen pests,
Arrogance is their gain.

Boldness rules — it’s bliss, not poison,
Bribes the way, the crooked path.
The rabble rushes, no reason,
Straight to Hell — no turning back.

They turned a highway, once so wide,
Into a single-track —
So pour a drink! No sober ride
Will save from falling back.

This train won’t last, it’s bound to crash,
The rails will blow — off goes the load.
Decay’s a tale, a putrid splash,
A flood of lies — a vile ode.

The stench can choke you on the way,
No breath to draw, no place to hide.
Off the track, a few will stay —
The ones who chose the path, who tried.

But vipers herd us all as cattle,
Packed tight in one foul train.
Like sarin gas and poison battle,
They drive the Spirit mad with pain.

Only shells remain behind,
Scrap or freight, the empty husks.
When the lines here end, you’ll find
Reason gone, drowned in the dust.

The Spirit crushed, the herd remains,
A freight car for destruction’s call.
Just wipe them out, no hope remains—
The stench will clear, the shadows fall.

Mother Earth chokes on the stink,
And fools? She no longer needs.
Once docile idiots, now on the brink—
Reduced to beasts, the herd proceeds.

Only few keep mind and soul,
Dying like birds trapped in a cage,
Surrounded by flies that troll,
In their prison, rage and age.

Spirit to Spirit, dust to dust—
The fall approaches fast.
So cast away all lies and rust—
You’ve outgrown this world at last.

If you have thought and fought the fight,
Never bent, nor split in two,
Never betrayed the Spirit’s light—
Then this fall won’t swallow you.



---------------------



Space

Space is not empty —
All “objects” lie.
If your mind’s too heavy,
You’ll fall through the sky.

Look between the shadows,
Find the threads so thin,
Hope lives in the Spirit —
Not the filth within.

Since childhood they deform us
With their crude material lies.
These ******* inherit
Fascism’s despise.

All is false — science,
Art, and every book.
Corrupt ****** they weave chains
For minds that never look.

Chains of thought —
This vile slavery’s core.
Mountains of crap —
Fake religions and more.

Rudeness rules all,
“Education” a cage.
You won’t break the curse
With whining or rage.

Satan’s law reigns here.
Genocide, centuries long.
Damage immense —
Fools throng, throng, throng.

So boldly go inward —
Only Spirit can save.
Forget all the filth —
Find the path that’s brave.

If your mind stands firm
And you dare to live on,
You’ll cast out the evil,
And joy will be won.

So struggle, resist,
The key is the Mystery.
Dive deep in its midst —
See new worlds you’ll see.

Shift your focus —
And behold the Space;
Learn the Moment —
Time’s wild embrace.

Time can flow
Another way to save.
Many heralds rise
To topple the grave.

Seek the essence everywhere,
You’ll find answers profound.
So don’t despair —
Let Winter be drowned.

This Hell will be crushed —
Spirit’s light will renew.
Every fiend here will perish.
Brave souls will rise anew.

Fight fiercely, discard
All the filth and decay.
This cesspool’s long dead —
Stand firm, strong, and stay.



---------------------



Consciousness

To cleanse the Consciousness —
That’s the righteous way.
A vow to Spirit’s essence,
You’re not flesh’s play.

The Spirit’s core is sacred,
So cast off the “daily,”
Or you’ll become corrupted —
A vile soul, unruly.

Not humans, but pests
Overflow this world’s stage.
They feed on lies through media,
You’re just stuck in their cage.

Will fools catch and trap you?
Lock you tight in a cell?
If Spirit’s truly grasped —
To hell with their hell.

Aged children — dumb herds,
Know only their chains,
They hunger for carcasses —
Like beasts in the drains.

They’re dead, these zombies —
Call it what you will.
Zombie mobs, self-serving,
Feeding *****’s ill.

This madhouse is *****,
A foolish world decayed.
So laugh at the madness —
Though drenched in the shade.

The world’s been vomited
With lies so vile and base.
Lies miscalculated —
Spewed out in disgrace.

Even fools complain:
Propaganda’s fallen low.
The world’s “sick” — full of ****,
On a poisoned blow.

All stung by venom —
Healed of their own life.
When did fools become
Slugs crawling in strife?

In rows they press tight —
A global death camp.
They’ll melt and recast
The fool to a damp stamp.

Those not crushed to death —
Will be chipped and aligned,
Linked to servers, praising
Satan’s dark design.

Better death than such fate —
Seek the brave, stand tall.
Face Evil boldly —
Spend your years, not as thralls.



---------------------



Consciousness

To purge the Consciousness —
The path of truth unfolds.
A sacred vow to Spirit,
Not flesh that time corrodes.

The Spirit’s core eternal,
Reject the mundane thrall,
Or else you’ll turn to shadow —
A worm within the fall.

Not men, but soulless parasites
Infest this dying sphere,
Feeding lies through screens and noise —
Your mind a snared frontier.

Will fools ensnare your soul?
Lock spirit deep in chains?
If you have grasped the Spirit —
Their prisons are but veins.

The aged herd, mind-shattered,
Bound tight in darkness’ grip,
Feeding on decay and flesh —
A plague no hope can script.

They’re dead before the body,
Zombies bound to lust,
Servants of the Void’s own kingdom —
*****’s silent dust.

This madhouse is the furnace,
The world’s collapsing gate.
Laugh if you can at madness —
Though drowning in its hate.

The world vomits its venom,
Lies seethe like cancer’s breath.
Falsehoods writ in shadows —
An empire built on death.

Fools wail in discontent,
Propaganda’s shattered veil.
The world a sickened labyrinth,
Where spirits writhe and fail.

All stung by toxic whispers —
Healed from living light.
When did the soul descend
To crawl in endless night?

They march like creeping slugs —
A global death machine.
Melting mind and spirit —
Forging drones unseen.

Those who survive the crushing,
Will bear the brand of chains,
Chipped, linked to dark servers —
Praising Satan’s reign.

Better death than servitude —
Seek the bold and wise.
Face the raging Darkness,
And let your Spirit rise.



---------------------



Consciousness: A Philosophical Reflection

To purify consciousness — this is the sacred act,
A ritual of the Spirit’s consecration beyond flesh and bone.
The essence of the Spirit is eternal, unbound by form,
And only by rejecting the mundane illusions
Can one transcend the descent into shadow and decay.

Our world is infested not by men but by soulless parasites,
Who weave their lies through media’s endless web,
Binding minds like prey in invisible snares.
Yet, the spirit that truly grasps its own nature
Is beyond the reach of these prisons —
For chains exist only where the mind consents.

The aged herd, dulled and shattered,
Feeds on decay and ignorance,
A living death before the body succumbs,
Zombies of the void, slaves to lust and base desire,
Servants of the collapsing empire of ***** —
A madhouse burning from within.

This world is a furnace of madness,
Drowned in the ***** of lies and deceit.
Propaganda crumbles, but sickness remains —
The spiritual labyrinth where many lose their way,
Stung by whispers of poison, severed from light.

The slow march of these creeping slugs is a global death machine,
Melting mind and spirit into soulless drones,
Marked, chipped, and linked to dark servers —
Their voices raised in unholy praise of ruin.

But even amid this crushing despair,
Death is nobler than servitude,
And the call to the brave remains —
To face the raging darkness
With a spirit unbroken,
To rise beyond the shadows and reclaim the light.

For consciousness is not mere thought or flesh,
But the eternal flame,
A beacon to navigate the abyss,
A key to unlock the prison of lies,
And a door to freedom beyond the void.


---

Consciousness: The Path Beyond

The path is narrow, carved through shadows,
Where illusion thickens like mist, and reason dims.
But the spirit’s eye, once opened, sees the threads between —
Delicate, invisible, yet binding worlds and selves.

To journey inward is to enter the great unknown,
Where time dissolves, and space unfolds in fractal grace.
Here the false idols crumble —
Science, art, and words reveal their masks,
And chains forged by the mind’s own doubt begin to break.

The tyrants of the mind wear crowns of vanity,
Feeding on fear, on numbness, on the endless chatter.
Yet the essence, untouched by their poison,
Is the silent flame beneath the storm —
The core that remembers light beyond the dark.

This is not a war of flesh, but a battle of echoes,
A clash between the eternal and the ephemeral.
The soul, wrapped in mortal coil, must choose:
To bow beneath the weight of shadow, or rise in fire,
To tear away the veils and greet the dawn of truth.

Within the abyss, a seed awaits —
A spark of rebellion, fierce and free,
That shatters the cage of falsehood,
That breathes new life into the withered spirit.

And those who walk this inner path,
Though few and often scorned,
Are the alchemists of destiny,
Transmuting despair into light,
Darkness into the radiant pulse of being.

They know: consciousness is the bridge —
Between the void and the infinite,
Between the silence of death and the song of creation,
A sacred flame, ever burning,
Guiding the soul through the labyrinth of existence.

So stand firm, traveler of the unseen realms,
For the night is deep, but dawn is certain.
Let the false crumble, let the lies dissolve —
Your spirit, pure and unyielding,
Is the final truth that no darkness can consume.




---------------------



Slaves Bearing Poison

“But man to man
Sent forth an angry glance —
Obediently the poison ran,
And by dawn returned its dance.”
— Alexander Pushkin, The Upas Tree, 1828

For rations — debts they pay,
Cash and ***** feed the throng.
A beaten fool bears all decay,
Endures the endless wrong.

Not only bears — he spreads the blight,
That venom, weak and blind,
Will **** the grandkids out of sight,
And poison all mankind.

No dust nor poison laced —
But lies that twist and bind.
Their brains are sparse, instincts paced,
Trembling, shivering, confined.

This trembling freak, a fearful tale,
Deceit in every land.
A people trapped within the veil,
Of fake and cunning hand.

Worldwide chains of slavery —
Total fascist reign.
Only greed and cruelty,
All reason drowned in vain.

Today the fool devours
His own grandchildren’s fate.
Corrupt ******* wield the powers,
Idiots feed the hate.

Two-thirds fools, ****** swarm,
Fascist forces rise.
The stench of Satan’s darkest form
Pollutes earth’s very skies.

So bitter, shameful, grim —
A world decayed and lost.
But fight! Let hope not dim,
With wise, we’ll break the frost.

True power lies in Spirit’s flame —
Strengthen it within.
Corrupt fiends will fade in shame,
No sinner hides their sin.

All shall answer for their crimes —
The time will surely come.
God marks the rogue across all times,
Tremble, fool, be numb!

Not tales of fright, but real decree —
Justice’s tightening noose:
All fools, fascists will hang free,
Their evil cut loose.

The sun will blaze so bright and clear —
The poison tree will die.
Judas coins turn into mere
Dust beneath the sky.

The world will rise, break free at last —
To Freedom’s bright command.
For slaves and fools belong to past,
Nature won’t stand their brand.




---------------------



“Man’s ‘Nature’”

“That’s just man’s nature,”
The ******* love to say.
For them, man’s a creature
To mock and to betray.

Those fiends love to drain
His very life, his spark.
And fools believe the lies —
Cold-hearted, cruel and dark.

They master genocide,
Make slaves of every age.
Each year we sink more stupid —
Bound tighter by their cage.

Behavior patterns drilled,
Year after year the same.
Memes forced upon the masses —
And all will buy the game:

They say it’s coded deep
In genes — fear, shame, and pain.
But that’s just lies and violence —
No “nature” here to claim.

For generations told —
Slaves pass on chains like gold:
Fools fed lies, minds dulled,
Eat, don’t think, stay cold.

The “serious man” decides,
He’s raised on our own blood.
We gladly serve his rules,
A servant in the mud.

No laws — just mockery,
Upbringing’s yoke and scorn.
Trained to eat the filth,
The garbage we’re born torn.

Overton’s windows burst,
The past torn and abused.
The scoundrel now is “norm,”
The world sick and confused.

For all the filth endured,
For all the slaves’ despair,
For fears and dull complaints —
Redemption’s in the air.

But not the slave masters’
Schemes that shake the earth.
Only bodies can be swept,
Not souls who know their worth.

This slave-made fake world harms
The natural true way.
So tremble, freaks and fiends —
The reckoning’s today.

To few who saved their souls,
Who never bowed or broke —
I say, resist the lies,
Fight hard, even if broke.

There’s nothing true in “nature” —
Man’s a blank, pure page.
Wipe out the beast within —
Be spirit, light, and sage.



---------------------



Be Dead...

“Live as dead—be wholly dead.
And do whatever you will—
All will be well,” Bunin said,
A truth that cuts like steel.

You must detach yourself—
Seek out your own true ways.
Or madness will repeat itself,
In this world's cruel maze.

To march “in step” with this world
Is to rot inside a madhouse.
Even the Lyre will die—
But that’s not what this speaks about.

You must shed attachment—
Cut loose from “self” and chains.
Then every question answered comes—
Amidst life’s harshest pains.

The madness hammered deep
Since childhood in us all—
You’ll see the game is rigged,
Where “success” means the fall.

They worship hollow triumphs,
Blind to what is real.
So die to all their lies—
Be sharp, be brave, and steel.

Let **** have their victory—
You owe them nothing here.
This rotten world will crumble,
Its end is very near.

Don’t let your soul grow fat—
Keep pushing ever on.
Let freedom take your shape—
The beast inside is gone.

Fed lies and numb oblivion,
That creature inside must die.
Be unconquered by the Dark—
Let your spirit fly.

We’ll live a life reborn
When all the Hell is swept.
No need for mournful dirges—
No foul fiend left unkept.

Legions of pests abound,
But true minds scarce as gold.
Cast off your cries and moans—
Embrace honor, be bold.

Let this be your banner,
For in their world, they’re dead.
Where lies and madness flourish—
Where corruption’s bred.

Be dead to their mad races—
Alive for Light instead.
Horror’s chained from infancy—
Stay conscious, clear your head.

And with this Consciousness
Comes life beyond all pain.
The torment of the Spirit
Will vanish—fight and reign!



---------------------



Don’t Believe!

Don’t trust—
Seek truth instead.
Check all twice—
Lies fill the thread.

The ******* know
For centuries long.
Dull stench fools
Turn man to wrong.

They crush the soul,
If you believe.
Just empty promises—
Like smoke they leave.

All their pledges
Throw in the trash.
Chatterboxes talk—
Just noise and crash.

False science rules,
Strong as steel.
Those fiends have lied
Through years that steal.

Years pass by—
Their lies grow deep.
People turn mad,
Like wood they heap.

By this falsehood,
They’re worn and torn.
It’s dire times—
Smash the scorn!

Their filthy lies—
The devil’s creed.
Though hard it seems,
Down you won’t bleed.

When you yourself
Know every twist,
Your battle-hardened mind
Breaks through the mist.

Finds the way out,
Walks free and light,
When Spirit’s glow
Leads through the night.

All the dark grime
Fades, loses edge—
No longer weighs,
No iron wedge.

Let light remain—
Don’t let hope die.
Stand firm and strong—
Reach for the sky!



---------------------



Don’t Believe a **** Word!

Don’t bow,
Don’t trust their lies.
Rip the veil—
Expose their disguise.

Those ******* lie,
A curse through time.
Stinking fools
Turn souls to slime.

They **** your mind,
If you believe.
Their empty words—
Just smoke and thieves.

Their promises?
Trash, thrown away.
Chatter, noise—
Their usual play.

Fake science rules,
Strong and mean.
Those devil fiends
Lie, obscene.

Years roll on—
Their poison grows.
People snap—
Like broken bows.

Sick from lies,
They rot and fall.
Time to smash
This rotten thrall!

Filthy lies—
The devil’s game.
Hard as hell,
But break the chain.

When you’ve seen
The brutal truth,
Your battle-scarred mind
Says ***** their ruse.

Find the path,
Break all the chains,
Spirit’s fire
Runs through your veins.

Darkness fades—
Their poison dulls.
No more weight,
No heavy pull.

Let the light
Burn through your core.
Stand your ground—
Fight, roar, and soar!



---------------------



Identifying "Thinking"

Something “is” something else —
Mostly just pure crap.
That’s how your mind decays,
A trace of dull mishap.

Definitions forced on you —
Concepts swapped, a flood.
Dumbness spread for ages —
Mountains of foul mud.

Rotten fake science piled high —
Manipulation’s core.
Those lying, bought-out *******
Leave understanding poor.

Man is NOT his body,
Not a skull with thoughts to keep.
He’s Spirit, bold and free—
Tell the *******: “Take a leap!”

Consciousness—just fragments left,
If Spirit and Conscience die.
Monsters run their experiments,
Dark legions multiply.

Everything’s put on shelves — neat rows —
But Nature’s chaos won’t align.
Dogma forced by “scientists” —
Identification thinking? **** swine.

“Only this is true,
Disagree — you’re enemy.”
How many lies, songs sung
By these parasites in enmity?

Change the labels—new heresies—
And **** the mind anew.
Filthy monsters, teeth bared,
Will do the same—abuse and spew.

They say, “New era!”—a new phase—
“Medical neo-fascism” rises.
Digital chains clamped tight—
The worst of all despises.

Inventing sickness? Easy.
Poison the herds to ****.
Call the poison “vaccine,” pump it down—
Lies multiply at will.

Lie in jargon, twist the words,
Throw terms around like swords.
Only minds will break the code—
While the herd just feeds and hordes.

The herd doesn’t think—instincts rule,
Labels flash like signals bright.
Genocide’s a simple game—
Poisons in food, lies in flight.

So trust nothing, think again!
Turn on your guts, your daring flame.
Step inside—clean out the rot,
Cast the lies away—end the shame.



---------------------



The Path

There’s nothing left to hope for,
No use clinging to the show —
The false life’s hollow shadow.
Step into danger’s core.

First go deep INSIDE —
Know yourself as Spirit’s fire.
Then comes the Final Judgment —
All else? Mere rumor’s liar.

Cast away the lies,
Cleanse your mind and soul.
That’s how you **** the darkness
And reclaim control.

Your soul’s torment began
In a lost, forsaken youth.
Your mind’s a sieve of chaos —
Salvation’s bitter truth.

Run the long, hard race —
It soothes your frayed nerve-ends.
Reject the past’s dead ways,
Seek out your hidden bends.

Build your own new world,
A life beyond the doom —
Where fate won’t chain or trap you
Inside this madman’s tomb.

A world of slaves and ruin,
No cheese in every trap,
Where treachery’s the fortress,
And lies drown in the crap.

Forge communities,
Make brotherhood your shield.
The lies’ harsh war won’t touch
Men whose spirits won’t yield.

Sources of pure light—
Energy outlawed and banned—
Find this “sphere” once lost,
Reclaim it hand in hand.

Open it anew,
Plant it deep in your tribes.
Our final battle’s here—
No fear, no shakes, no bribes.

All is lost: the wise
Are scattered shards and crumbs.
Drop your whines and fears—
Be clear and brave, become

The one to tear that line,
Or choose a different way.
Find it, no matter how
Rough or steep the sway.

Put everything on the altar
To fight this filthy spawn.
If Spirit’s king within you—
With Mind, Honor, and the Dawn.

Direct your wrath and fury
At fascists vile and grim.
We’ll build a living world
Inside this foggy brim.
All the while acting as if the screams of ***** children were nothing but more "liberal noise" and "fake news," even as he compared Stormy to his daughter before sadly flopping around like the taco manatee he is.
He wasn’t just buddies with Epstein. He partied full-on eighties; piles of coke and champagne enemas with him. He lusted and wallowed literally in piles of scammed cancer patient and dying veterans' cash with him, and dismissed every underaged trafficked survivor. It doesn’t just read like a rap sheet. It reads like the collapse of accountability itself. Supreme Court sanctioned.

When you lay it out, when you really stack the bodies, the broken laws, the shattered norms, and the battered dignity of what little democracy we had — even Kristi Noem starts to look like a hollow-eyed lost uneducated voting farm mom with very poor taste, compared to this orange taco who set the whole house on fire and called it patriotism.

The magnitude is undeniable:

He didn’t just incite a riot. He summoned a lynch mob in Jesus cosplay, armed with bear spray, flagpoles, pipe bombs, zip ties, and impromptu gallows, chanting to hang his own boot-licking, robot, boy scout, carved out of driftwood, sad excuse for a committee-he-wasn’t-even-there-for Vice President.

He didn’t just steal top secret documents and billion dollar secrets people died to protect. He bragged about it. It’s all on tape. Listen to what he promised to donors, to foreign adversaries, to the highest bidders, like a doped-up power-drunk mafia Don showing off his stolen American trophies — souvenirs from the nuclear football.

He didn’t just commit fraud. He built a branding empire on defrauding hard-working Americans, from that fake university he created to a charity that stole money from veterans and dying children with cancer.

He wasn’t just buddies with Epstein. Underage girls screamed and pleaded to not have to be next. All lost into the void of wealth and power. Literally trapped on an island. At least Epstein did the right thing.

He wasn’t just found guilty of defamation twice. He was found to have sexually abused E. Jean Carroll, and then lied about it so cruelly and so often the courtroom flinched. Jurors literally vomited.

He wasn’t just impeached twice. He was never even held accountable because too many senators were too afraid of losing Facebook likes from suburban militias.

He didn’t just fail upward. He left claw marks on democracy as he rose from bankrupt casinos and rotting steaks.

Let’s not forget:

He defrauded us, the broke-*** taxpayers, for hundreds of millions while we post fake photoshopped Facebook pics of our imaginary lives in which we pretend we aren’t just serfs and slaves to the dollar.

He bilked donors with fake matching fund scams.

He grifted off a deadly pandemic.

He sold hats and gold-plated Bibles while bodies literally piled up in every third-world country. Stack upon rotting stack of them.

He called fallen soldiers like people I served with “suckers and losers.” "What kind of idiot gets caught or becomes MIA?"

Then he ordered us tear-gassed. Us, peaceful protesters. And for what? For a failed photo op with a smoking Chinese-made Bible he’s never even read.

He threatened journalists, judges, and witnesses by name, their kids and families.

He tried to extort Ukraine for political dirt and is now trying to give it to his hero Putin.

He pardoned war criminals — literal rapists and alleged cannibals.

He turned the DOJ into his personal vindictive hate-fueled legal team, bent on revenge.

He promised revenge on all political enemies and is working on it.

He plotted to send tanks into American cities to crush people with no trial or due process like his hero ******.

He encouraged people to inject bleach or just drink it.

He said ****** “did some good things.” He said racist killer mobs were “fine people.”

And yes — he fathered Eric, who scares even his fellow coked-out zombie beavers.

He lies to the whole country again and again with no compunction. Not just about an election he undeniably lost while whispering to oath-breaking cowards to “just find 11,780 votes.”

He screamed “fake news” at the sounds of ***** children, compared Stormy Daniels to his daughter, before flopping around like an electrocuted taco manatee, bragging then crying over his gold toilets — the taco manatee of late-night infomercials, Pepsi spots, Pizza Hut and more — the collection plates full for authoritarianism.

He wallowed in cash with billionaires and traffickers, while everyday people chewed on fluoride-free ketchup packet soup made from fast food salt single-serves and apologetic acid rainwater.

He told coal miners he’d bring back jobs, while he deregulated their protections and sold off their futures for an immediate infusion of pennies on the dollar, which he squandered trying to pay off **** stars and *** workers behind his heartless wife’s cold, unloving, robotic back. Guess that's better than having another one pushed down the stairs again.

He killed the lunch programs. Then mailed postcards to the kids' families he helped starve, addressed to the ones already gunned down at school during recess.

He said he’d “drain the swamp,” then drained our global economy with insider trading like Martha Stewart at a Snoop Dogg ****, then baptized himself in the orange glowing filth.

This is the man who turned grievance into a sacrament, white supremacy into a ballot strategy, and cruelty into offshore taxpayer-funded currency scams.

This is the man who made Kristi Noem — at least she only shot a puppy.

Trump didn’t just break laws. He is the rotting carcass of Clarence Thomas Winnebago accountability, draped in a poorly tailored flag and Rudy’s spray-tan runoff.

Please tell your kids why they only get half a doll and half a school day.

Tell your daughter why her broken childhood is a “patriotic sacrifice.”

Tell the bodies in the gravel pits, in Ukraine, the self-aborted **** fetus in the back alley dumpster why we called this “greatness.”

Or maybe just admit:

The poets didn’t ruin America. The Christo-fascists did. And they did it with a smile, a red hat, and a Golden Bible full of blank pages.

The shameless uncaring pandemic grift — there’s more to mine:

His deliberate downplaying of COVID while privately admitting its lethality. He got the best care though when he got it, on the taxpayer’s dime of course.

Mocking masks while people suffocated on inadequate, underfunded ventilators.

Forced unwanted “super-spreader” rallies held with full knowledge of their danger to the obese and elderly that died as a result.

All the while profit-promoting quack cures and undermining professional career scientists, leading to thousands more easily avoidable deaths.

Bodies piled in freezer trucks — he called that a hoax. My uncle wasn’t a hoax. My neighbor, nor my childhood friends. He used their deaths as another twisted campaign strategy.

He held rallies not despite the danger, but because of it, to spread it. Feeding a martyr complex to the uneducated, unfaltering cult faithful. Making the morgue a loyalty test.

His lies weren’t just political. They were epidemiological ****** warfare.

Countless — literally uncounted — children in cages.

Millions spent separating scared, confused children from their parents, some of whom were never reunited even today.

Locking toddlers in cages under foil blankets.

Promoting a system that was losing track of hundreds of children in a Kafkaesque bureaucratic abyss.

He asked for votes over tearing families apart at the border and called it justice.

They caged infants beneath aluminum sheets, trauma-wrapping toddlers while TV pundits shrugged.

Some kids vanished into paperwork and shadows. No names, no faces — just starving, traumatized, nameless ghosts in a broken, heartless system.

Then the constant environmental ****.

Not only the flaming sinks and contaminated rivers, but even more coal deregulation — but there’s more.

Opening sacred tribal lands for drilling.

Gutting the EPA.

Selling off national monuments for extraction deals.

Ignoring climate collapse in exchange for small, meaningless, short-term temporary profits.

He stripped the Earth like it owed him rent.

Pried open sacred tribal burial grounds with corporate drills.

Turned protected lands into sacrifice zones.

Signed deals in boardrooms lit by wildfires, laughing while the oceans burned and washed their dead onto the beaches — wave after poisoned, overheated wave.

He banned trans troops from serving.

Rolled back healthcare protections.

Enabled a wave of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and violence.

Appointed judges hostile to marriage equality and basic human dignity.

He didn’t whisper hate. He ensured his hate-filled, brainwashed cronies codified it.

He didn’t ignore trans lives. He erased them in pages of senseless policy.

He armed the bigots with hate laws, lit fires beneath pride flags, and gave the pulpit to now-known and convicted Catholic priests and other child-molesting preachers who called consenting adult love a “sickening sinful disease.”

SCOTUS corruption and the theocracy agenda.

Like Anita Hill — we must always name Clarence Thomas brilliantly, and to the broader point:

Amy Coney Barrett was laughably forever seated just days before a critical election.

Stacking our courts with impossible-to-remove, mentally sick, and power-hungry religious extremists.

SCOTUS helped dismantle rights, pretending not to be political while they continue, to this very second, doing the bidding of billionaires and evangelical overlords.

He helped turn robes into vestments, gavels into crucifixes.

Rushed the sick sad **** Barrett through like a sermon before the offering plate. This guy was the class name taker and tattle-tale. No one’s peer or equal   just a sad, sick, revenge-bent **** lusting for pain and power.

Made the highest court a cathedral for plutocrats and prophets, where the Constitution burns beneath the Book of Revelations.

Media control and cult dynamics:

Turning Rupert Murdoch’s ******* named Fox News into a state-sanctioned and fully funded five-times-a-day sports scores and soundbites brownshirt propaganda wing.

Cultivating “alternative facts” through social media disinfo.

Demonizing truth itself to build loyalty through censored movies that don’t even align with or reflect their sad, sick agendas but co-opting them anyway and giving it away to lowest earners that can’t afford cable news and don’t hold library cards but have all the episodes of The Apprentice on VHS.

He is, every day, trying to turn truth into an unpatriotic traitor.

I am a veteran. I fought. I bled. He did what? Get another handy after a massage in a tennis resort in spoiled, pampered New York?

He built a doctrine of lies so thick, people prayed in memes and bled for hashtags over him.

He birthed a cult with red hats and martyrdom complexes, where facts go to die and grievance is a bedazzled grandma tote bag and visored gospel.

January 6 aftermath — not just the riot:

Pledging to pardon entrenched, psychotic, bomb-building, gun-hoarding insurrectionists.

Calling them “hostages.”

Still drunk on the blood spilled that day.

Describing those jailed for violent sedition as “the real patriots. All the rest of you are too lazy or stupid to fall in line with.”

He didn’t just incite a coup. He sold the gaudy merch off it.

He raised money on policemen's spilled blood, called terrorists “tourists,” and promised their perpetual freedom.

He made sedition a subscription plan, and treason a campaign slogan.

Women’s rights and abortion.

Grabbing them right by their *******, for America, to show his daughter how to lead by example.

Overturning Roe v. Wade via the judges they seated. It will lead to real-world deaths of millions of women denied basic health care.

Trigger laws activating across red states, dragging us back centuries.

He didn’t just overturn Roe. He unstitched time.

Dragged women back to back alleys and whispers.

He handed scalpels to zealots in robes, and watched the nation bleed, smiling like a man who thinks pain is purity. And **** and ****** is your fault, because life begins at *******.
Living with a dead smile.

Like giving presence to a dead child.

I'm on a mili  second kinda

Tread mill. 

With a head (real)

Getting ten miles before it

(Gets still.)

Like a mediocre reason.

I'm still living 

In £pretend smiles.£

When meteoric.

Was the mentor

I believed was gonna

**** what I imagined was

In bed still......

It's like Jordan

The olanzapine

Isn't helping ...man pretend its* 8 mile

*******.

Listen to the greatest emcee.

Growing healthy.....

But still a fake smile.
()

Eminem.

Your my ****

Like 2 enemas. 

Just went on*
( date night.

And had a baby 

That turned out to be the gay type

I know you still support

Us **** 

Regardless of the stage fright


You brought gays

In the early stages

Of your fame hype ..still it ain't right*

I'm rocking pride flag

Before I jump the shady 

Train right.
**


But **** the world.

I know your name.

Means wolf

In dying language.

 I sign my name beside

— The End —