Goosebumps bloomed on her limbs
like the plague
and this was a relief
she had been waiting for,
ever since her mother
put her hands on her
and turned an angel into a firestorm.

1.

From our
safe windows,
we crane our necks,
rubbernecking
past the slow
motion wreckage
unfolding in Homs.

We remain
perfectly
perched
to marvel at
the elegant arc of
a mortar shell
framing tomorrows
deep horizon,
whistling through
the twilight to
find its fruitful
mark.

In the now
we keep
complicit time,
to the arrest
of beating hearts,
snapping fingers
to the pop
of rifle cracks,
swooning to
the delicious
intoxication of
curling smoke
lofting ever
upward;
yet
thankfully
remain
distant
enough to
recuse any
possibility
of an
intimate
nexus
with the
besieged.

2.

From our
safe windows,
we behold the
urgent arrivals of
The Friends of Syria
demanding
clean sheets
and 4 Star
room service at a
Tunisian Palace
recently cleaned
and under new
management
promising a
much needed
refurbishment.

The gathered,
a clique of
this epochs
movers and shakers,
a veritable
rouges gallery of
ambassadorial
prelates, Emirs and
state department
bureaucrats
summoned
with portfolio
from the
darkest corners
of the globe.

They are
eager to
sanctify
the misery
of Homs,
deflect and
lay blame
with realpolitik
rationalizations,
commencing
official commissions
of inquiry,
deliberating
grave considerations,
issuing indictments
of formal charges for
Crimes Against
Humanity
while
remaining
urgently
engrossed
in the fascination
of interviewing
potential
process servers
to deliver the bad news
to Bashar al-Assad
and his soulless
Baathist
confederates,
if papers
are to be
served.

Yes, the diplomats
are busy meeting
in closed rooms.

In hushed circles
they whisper
into aroused ears,
railing against
Russia’s
gun running
intransigence
and China’s
geopolitical
chess moves.

Statesmen
boast of the
intrepid justice
of tipping points
and the moving poetry
of self serving tales,
weighing the impact
of stern sanctions
amidst the historical
confusion of the
asymmetrical
symmetries
of civil war.

Caravans
of Arab League
envoys roll up
in silver Bentleys,
crossing deserts
of contradictory
obfuscations,
navigating the
endless dunes
with hand held
sextants of
hidden agendas.

The heroic
Bedouins are
eager to offload
their baggage
and share
on the ground
intelligence from
their recent soirées
across Syria.

They beg
a quick fix,
the triage of a
critical catharsis
to bleed their
brains dry
of heinous
recollections,
pleading
release from a
troubled conscience
victimized by
the unnerving paradox
of reconciling
discoveries of
perverse voyeurism
with the sanctioned
explanations
of their respective
ruling elites.

The bellies
of these
scopophiliacs
are distended;
grown queasy
from a steady diet
of malfeasance
an ulcerated
world parades
in continuous loop;
spewing the raw feeds
of real time misery;
forcibly fed
the grim
visions of
frantic
fathers
rushing
the mangled
carcases
of mortally
wounded
children
to crumpled
piles of smashed
concrete that were
once hospitals.

We despondently
ask how
much longer
must we
look into
the eyes
of starving
children
emaciated from
the wanton
indifference
of the world?


3.

From our
safe windows
we wonder
how much
longer can
the urgent
burning
ambivalence
continue
before it
consumes
our common
humanity in
a final
conflagration?

My hair already
singed by the
endless firestorms
sweeping the prairies
of the world.

How can we survive
the trampling hoards,
the marauding
plagues of acrimony
fed by a voracious
blood lust aspiring to
victimize the people
of Homs and a
thousand cities
like it?


4.

From my safe
window I stand in witness
to the state execution of
refugees fleeing the
living nightmare
of Baba Amr.

The ****** of innocents,
today's newly minted martyrs,
women and children
cornered, trapped
on treacherous roads,
mercilessly
slaughtered and
defiled in death
to mark the lesson
of a ruthless master
enthralled with the
power of his
sadistic fascist
lordship.

I cannot avert my eyes
marking sights
of pleading women
begging for the
lives of their children
in exchange for
the gratification
of a sadists
lust.

My heart
is impaled
on the sharp
spear of
outrage
beholding
careening
children mowed
down with the
serrated blades
protruding
from marauding
jeeps of laughing
soldiers.

I drop
to my knees
in lakes of
tears
reflecting
a grotesque
horror stricken
image of myself.

My eyes have
murdered my soul.

The ghastly images
of Homs have chased
away my Holy Ghost
to the safety of a child's
sandbox hidden away
in a long forgotten
revered memory.


5.

From my safe window
I seethe with anger
demanding vengeance,
debating how to rise
to meet the obscenity of
the Butcher of Damascus.

The sword of Damocles
dangles so tantalizingly close
to this tyrants throat.  

The covered women
of Homs scream prayers
“may Allah bring Bashar to ruin”

Dare I pray
that Allah trip the
horsehair trigger
that holds the
sword at bay?

Do I pick up
the sword
a wield it
as an
avenging
angel?

Am I the
John Brown
of our time?

Do I organize
a Lincoln Brigade
and join the growing
leagues of jihadists
amassing at the
Gates of Damascus?

Will my righteous
indignation fit well
in a confederacy
with Hamas and
al-Qaeda as my
comrades in arms?

Do I succumb to
the passion of hate
and become just
another murderous
partisan, or do I
commend the power
of love and marshal
truth to speak with
the force of
satyagraha?

I lift a fervent prayer
to claim the justice
of Allah’s ear,
“may the knowing one
lift the veil of foolishness
that covers my heart in
cloaks of resent, cure
my blindness that ignores
my raging disease of
plausible deniability
ravaging the body politic
of humanity.”

6.

Indeed,
physician heal thyself.

I run to embrace my
illness.

I pine to understand it.

I undertake the
difficult regimen
of a cure to eradicate
the terrible affliction.

This
pernicious
plague,
subverting
the notion
of a shared
humanness
is a cunning
sedition that
undermines
the unity of
the holy spirit.  

The bell from
the toppled steeples
still tolls, echoing
across the space of
continents and eons
of temporal time.

The faithful chimes
gently chides us
to remove the wedge
of perception that
separates, divides
and undermines.

Time has come
to liberally
apply the balm
that salves the
open wounds
so common to
our common
human condition.

The power of prayer
is the joining of hands
with others racked
with the common
affliction of humanness.

Allah,  
My eyes are wide open,
my sacred heart revealed,
my sleeves are rolled up,
my memory is stocked,
my soul filled with resolve,
my hand is lifted
extended to all
brothers and sisters.
Lift us,
gather us
into one
loving embrace.

Selah


7.

From the safe
windows of
our palaces
we live within
earshot of
the trilling
zaghroutas
of exasperation
flowing from
the besieged
city smouldering
under Bashar’s
symphony of terror.

Our nostrils
fill with the
acrid plumes
of unrequited
lamentations
lifting from the
the burning
destruction
of shelled
buildings.

Our eyes spark
from the night
tracers
of sleeking
snipers
flitting along
the city’s
rooftops.

The deadly jinn
indiscriminately
inject the
paralysis of
random fear
into the veins
of the city
with each
skillful
head shot.

These
ghoulish
assassins
lavish in their
macabre work;
like vultures
they eagerly
feast on the
corpses of their ****,
the stench of bloated
bodies drying in the
sun is the perfume
that fills their nostrils.


8.

From our
safe window
we discern the
silhouettes of militants
still boldly standing
amidst the
mounting rubble of an
unbowed Homs
shouting;

Allah Akbar!!!
Allah Akbar!!!
Allah Akbar!!!

raising pumped fists,
singing songs
of resistance,
dancing to
the revelation of
freedom,
refusing to
be coward by
the slashing
whips of a
butchers
terrible
sword.


9.

From my
safe window
my tongue laps
the pap
of infants
suckling from
the depleted
teats of mothers
who cannot cry
for their dying
children;
tears fail
to well from
the exhaustion
of dehydrated
pools.

10.

From my
safe window
my heart stirs
to the muezzin
calling the
desperate faithful
from the toppled
rubble of dashed
minarets.

We can
no longer
shut our ears
to the adhan
of screams
the silent
voices that echo
the blatant injustice
of a people under siege.


11.

From my
safe window,
I pay
Homage to Homs
and call brothers
and sisters to rise
with vigilant
insistence
that hostilities
cease and
humanity be
upheld,
respected and
protected.


12.

From my safe
window
I perceive
the zagroutas
of sorrow
manifest as a
whiling hum,
a sweeping
blue mist,
levitating
the coffins
from the rubble
of ravaged streets.

The swirling
chorus of
mourning
joins my
desperate
prayers;
rising in
concert
with the
black billows
of smoke
dancing
away
from the
flaming
embers
of scorched
neighborhoods.


13.

From my
safe window
I heed
the fluttering
wings
of avenging
angels
furiously
batting
as they
climb
the black
plumes,
lifting from
the scattered bricks
of the desecrated
city.

It is the
Jacob’s
Ladder
for our
time;
marking
a new
consecrated
place
where
a New Adam
is destined
to be formed
from the
pulverized
stones of
desolation.

14.

From our
safe windows
we peer into
resplendent
mirrors
beholding
the perfect image of
ourselves
eying
falling tears
dripping blood,
coloring death
onto the
blanched sheets
of disheveled beds.


15.

From our
safe windows
our voices are silenced,
our words mock urgency
our thoughts betray comprehension
our senses fail to illicit empathy
our action is the only worthy prayer


16.

From my
safe window
I hear the
mortar shells
walking toward
my little palace,
the crack
of a ******
shot
precedes
the wiz of a
passing bullet
whispering
its presence
into my
waxen
ear.


17.

From my
safe window,
my palms scoop
the rich soil
of the flower boxes
perched on my sill.
I anoint the tender
green shoots of  the
Arab Spring
with an incessant flow
of bittersweet tears.

Music selection:
John Coltrane
A Love Supreme
Acknowledgment

Oakland
2/28/12
jbm

I see her in every bonfire
In every sun ray
I feel her warmth in every palm tree breeze
and her voice whispers to me in the sea

Without her my hear no longer burns with passion,
only the ashes wither me away
I've started making fires in my backyard
hoping to summon her somehow
I'd make a deal with the devil if I had to.

I'd **** to feel her skin on mine again
To have her share my bed
even though she steals the ******* duvet
she could stab me and I'd say 'thank you so much'
but she didn't
She loved me
wholeheartedly
Even when I couldn't love myself.

Inhaling your breath against my lips gets me high. Love this potent should be illegal, it feels so bad... like someone sold me your heart in a little plastic bag from the pocket of their hoodie in the cover of night. I lit it on fire and breathed in every panted wisp of smoke pushed up from your burning core. I bet distant cities can see our flames on the horizon, and the citizens are rushing to church to kneel before God and pray to be spared from the glowing apocalypse crawling towards them. What a beautiful way to die... but the world has already ended to me, because nothing matters in this moment but you. I think I can hear their screams beneath yours, as the ****** of Armageddon firestorms falls from the angry heavens that generously matched our souls.

Then silence... the beautiful silence that drapes the earth once everyone and everything is dead except for us, at least until the sun returns, and the alarm clock rings and resurrects the world from its hallucinated grave, and I head out to work hungover with love.

lying together
in the last of the darkness...
I awake
to the hiss of flames
and plumes of candle-smoke

I sweet talk to a wishing well, truth or lies, even I can’t tell
My childhood bites, it cut my teeth;
Grounded and pounded like agency beef.
Said goodbye to a vanishing world, did a savage dance with a native girl.
Flashes and chills, it’s a strange sensation
Started from scratch it’s a skilled creation.

Head hurts but it could be worse, I wake up in the morning and it’s
"good night, nurse"
pulled from the warmth of the womb, slapped then cursed
it’s a fine line and it’s ill rehearsed.

It’s a wonderful life filled with terrible things, beautiful cripples who rip off our wings as we silently suffer their arrows & slings, desecrate, suffocate as it smothers and clings.
Brain slowly melting like butter on toast, I use it the least when I need it the most
Martians & cretins, with numbers in millions, they slither and slide seeming rather reptilian.
Love lies and it goes like this, I will garnish your body with my spastic kiss.
Lost my life when I lost control, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

It steals you away with a madness at night, burns through your soul, this acetylene knife.
Takes away all the things that I once took for granted, ravaged my cage as I raged and I ranted.
As loud as the silence inside my head, should have run for the hills, took cover
instead now I live in the streets and the whole world’s my home.
It’s a hard life, and it’s getting old…

Still taking a thrashing with gnashing of teeth, a healthy disguise, a sick underneath. My head is still ringing, better answer the phone
It’s a timeline, I put it on hold.

You can be a go-getter or get it to go, from the firestorms above to the hellstrom below. We can burn and return to the scene of the crime, it’s a fine line, it gets finer with time…

I believed, was deceived, bought into this disease. You can **** it & sell it, or will it to me. Sainted babies paint rattles, then fall out of trees. Legs dissolving, devolving, return to the seas.
So show that you know me, then ******* to bits. Re-assemble the parts and see where they fit. I got holes in the soles of my shoes from a lifetime spent running away, gunning for the fine line.

Left my guts in your gutter, my brain on your stairs. Lost my nerve in your universe, now I don’t dare. I could live like a king in your starvation zone, or I could be Zeus in the ghettos of Rome.
Ignoble and cruel, indisposed disposition. Sue yourself lawyer, heal thyself physician. Jesus died for the sins for which we still atone, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

In that moment she transforms
Unquenchable pressures rise
Rage flares into firestorms
Fury thrives, amplifies

She dances on recent slights
Flinging words of blistering flame
Fires fuelled from yesterday’s fights
She wields with unerring aim

When the fury burns to embers
When logic eventually returns
No one left remembers
The cause of her righteous burns

NCL May 2018

You were not a firestorm
Nor a wild spirit
You were the tide,
the thing I always knew but never saw
Until it came upon me.
You did not ravage me,
But you lifted me up, so that I was floating
In salt and kind smiles.
The one thing you had in common with firestorms
Was that you couldn't stay for long.

Bow your head and drown out the voices.

This is the word. I say to you and your lips alone.

“Kerosene never smelled so appealing as it did that day

we loved under the mask of fumes.”

Dizzy and lost. Our eyes shut to the heat of firestorms.

Between us, we were burning.

I marvel at the glassy sheen of auburn eyes,
burning like firestorms of fresh winter hair,
and to entwine with mine is but a gift from,
you.

They walk around trying to find faith
But they never want to give their heart to God,
they’re where born to know God
and to walk with God,
but they just turned away,
In the stained sand, they stand,
while their own tears flow,
fire and dust will be all they will know,
they bow down to the ground
worshiping false God’s,
Dark Angel has a wicked grin on his face,
while he looks my way,
The cold seven god’s they put rose dust
upon the graves, crying out in so much pain
come and awake they would say,
while the magic woman plays her games,
her thirst for their blood,
she desires their soul of long ago,
I see her hate and envy in her eyes,
While Dark Angel;
cuts deep pains in the deserts sky,
hell, is what he gives,
firestorms upon on the land of sand,
while he conspires with the magic woman,
While they take on the world in darken dreams
make the ones that dream scream,
while the slaves of darkness cry out to
their false messiah,
from the deep part of their hearts,
rise he would tell them,
Take the cup and drink the blood
of the innocent ones, destruction is the price
they will all pay when they gave Dark Angel
the key to their souls, of long ago,
thousands will fall like stars from the sky,
the old magic woman cast her spells,
to wage war in a nasty battlefield of lies,
The evil magic woman and Dark Angel
are the God’s of the blood-stained land,
black magic rolls into the eyes of the slaves,
they dance around upon on the sand of the desert,
demons flow around the graves
in black rose dust.
Playing games on what they see
while their souls bleed,
The magic woman making wind of fire
That made the slaves confused,
While the bombs fly into the desert skies,
taken down all they can see,
while the weep what they believe,
the religion of their lies hold no power
in their mighty false Gods.

Judy Emery © 1980
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery

Would you dive into the darkest depths of memories and fears in the name of Love?

Would you destroy your tower of pride in the name of Love?

Would you be willing to unwrap the ***** cloth around the thorns that hurt you before in the name of Love? For the sake of Love?

Would you be willing to risk your life in the name of Love?

Would you be willing to allow pain and firestorms mould you?

Would you be willing to put all the hate on yourself so that another could feel loved?

Would you? All in the name of Love. All for the sake of Love. All for the giving of love. All for the defense of Love. All...for Love...

The paper
           Mills chuffed pillowy
      Vapours, and rusted freight trains
   Howled mournfully on that imperfect
          Day when pelicans stole by
              Over cornflour
                Creaky sands.

                   I was wrong
               About the Pepsi
       Can and concrete jetty jutting
   Out because sea-oats grew, Oyster-
       Catchers made arches of song
            Above the sea-foam
                    Enraptured.

                    The­ perfect
              And the imperfect
        Elide; they leap-frog along;
    Firestorms regenerate, hurricanes
   Tow tranquilities, and truths
           There in the moment
                    Living lie.

                  In swamp pools
                 Alligators lie by
             Mosquitoes’ electric
    Whine. In the sodden heat sand gnats
       Settle on scalps, but not one
              Leaf goes amiss; here
                     All is one.

                   Whip-poor-wills
                 Call; cicadas whirr
           Through the wordless night.
   Shadows flicker as fire tongues quiver,
          And despite all faults innate,
             Imagined, real, dreamt,
                     Lies peace still.

                     And the night,
                Beautifully wrecked
          In giant live-oak boughs, hangs
   In shreds of Spanish Moss. Wire-grass burns.
                   Stars in their orbit
                      Stare amazed.

smoking horizon
heat gusting this way
firestorms foretell
burning pain coming, raging
anticipation rising

They walk around trying to find faith
But they never want to give their heart to God,
they’re where born to know God
and to walk with God,
but they just turned away,
In the stained sand, they stand,
while their own tears flow,
fire and dust will be all they will know,
they bow down to the ground
worshiping false God’s,
Dark Angel has a wicked grin on his face,
while he looks my way,
The cold seven god’s they put rose dust
upon the graves, crying out in so much pain
come and awake they would say,
while the magic woman plays her games,
her thirst for their blood,
she desires their soul of long ago,
I see her hate and envy in her eyes,
While Dark Angel;
cuts deep pains in the deserts sky,
hell, is what he gives,
firestorms upon on the land of sand,
while he conspires with the magic woman,
While they take on the world in darken dreams
make the ones that dream scream,
while the slaves of darkness cry out to
their false messiah,
from the deep part of their hearts,
rise he would tell them,
Take the cup and drink the blood
of the innocent ones, destruction is the price
they will all pay when they gave Dark Angel
the key to their souls, of long ago,
thousands will fall like stars from the sky,
the old magic woman cast her spells,
to wage war in a nasty battlefield of lies,
The evil magic woman and Dark Angel
are the God’s of the blood-stained land,
black magic rolls into the eyes of the slaves,
they dance around upon on the sand of the desert,
demons flow around the graves
in black rose dust.
Playing games on what they see
while their souls bleed,
The magic woman making wind of fire
That made the slaves confused,
While the bombs fly into the desert skies,
taken down all they can see,
while the weep what they believe,
the religion of their lies hold no power
in their mighty false Gods.

Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery

Fat Cuban was softened
to his throat for tight cuts,
Abin-Oo Death A Hard von
*****; International Prison
Cell Face Cheating ****
is dancing happily dancing
through **** Baker. Two
white ***** with a galaxy
co-staff double straw; white
***** are very white, chocolate
chocolate, which white man's
meat channels two white *****
spoiling his throat.

CB Sista Nikki B. Dumb Puta,
May White; Chunky Girls On
Two White Boys; Gross White
Boys, Shame, Alibi ban ** Rudy
Pieces Boutbilit Black Bebe's
Invisible White **** Acid.
Invisible Beaches On Hot Lemonade.
Think of Golf Fish Catcher Cats
by the Movement of Western Plastic;
Clot Walking Society Revolution,
Junk Wave Jack Empty Manga Lady;
Cut In Creative Matters Disorganized                                      wrong machine
Club Tom Tom Pictures You Talk
To A Smoker;                                          Babylonian Light Sucre Arab Jordan Japan;                                                Move Top Pluridas Hallunk General Six
Are waiting for you, broken, broken, broken
Astrology, ***** drinkers, poor girls, smoking
Boy's end, planetary weapons.
The country has changed into the system.
Bad return on painting; One of *****'s
Amazing panorama inside the hardness
of the tongue Firestorms are pomegranate
mountains and ad for the TV title Brahmin
/ Drama / Robert's Influence on a Death
In Mount Sinai, Dogs participating
in African Africa and Jesus, Scientist says
that Europe and if you do good? 1 About
other people and what web sites do, including:
strawberries, air, or this public *** web
head, open gloves, wall, blue, blue sky
If you do, please save me as a national
and non-human work, If you want,
make sure but none, You are searching,
no country; Petition For example,
the PC does not If you make a mistake,
no one does 90 years, or 1000, or 1000,
blog, blog, And in this way, you can request
information on Non-employees and others
Please be interested in using others,
Please, if you do, you can fix it
Any account, please; Add a little 500 plus
For example, Mexico, Mexico provides
it. You are with the English location
Company 1: 1 minute English part
United States of America, United States
USAUS promotion in the United States
Wall and Mount Sinai, cities and dogs
have participated. In Africa and the sons
of Jesus, Arabs and dreamers, Scientists
say that You think Igor
Is a Good Musician Your Domain?
For others, the registrar, author,
And the person who makes it
You are a regular person, such as:
English Country, or the way you
are; A new card, if you can and others
As a national and non-human work,
If you want, make sure but none,
You are searching, no country; Petition
For example, no one accepts it
Message or anything else
90 90, text, number,

1000, and 1000, blogs, blogs,
Numbers, full-time books;
Information from free users
This is bad news in other countries,
And so forth and so on

standing in the eye of your storm
while words are hurled
into my heart once more
I never asked to defend
my right to breathe
when your moods erupt
in jagged shards of tragedy
destroying all the love
we held so beautifully
but I can't fight you any more
no I can't fight the fury of your hurt
It's not about me
this rage you stage
in firestorms whenever  I walk away
It's not about me
when you tell me no one will ever
love you this way again
It's not about
me

Citizens of  Hell
~A Collection of Poetry Reflecting the Seven Deadly Sins~
Growing, Fading
He eats children alive
He does not discriminate one feast from another, but takes them both
He slaughters precious animals by the brood and gobbles up entire herds
Most disgustingly, he keeps a young maid by his side
To whet his appetite with a bite from her neck,
To cleanse his palette with a chomp from her shoulder
To clean himself with a swipe at her stomach
And to give himself that special seasoning with her tears.
Tis sickening to watch and maddening to ponder
How a kindhearted boy from a loving home can morph into a monster,
Yes, a monster of a man with only food on his mind
And only avarice in his fatty heart.
There is nothing more to him than that anymore;
For, as his body grows and grows, bulging til it takes over the building,
His person simply withers to nothing and the shriveled up corps fades.
Persistence
I crave my brother’s wife.
I care not for other birds
But this bird!
How I wish I could lure her to my feeder
But alas!
She is not mine to feed,
She belongs wholly to my brother
And thinks of me as family, only as family
Oh what sweet misery is the human struggle!
Oh what sweet horror is the pesky libido!
And lest a dream become far too sweet to bear,
How the subject of such ideas must be taken!
What a misery, what misery indeed is this life!
What agony I have inside me for this woman,
A woman of womanly arts, a woman of womanly graces
What desire I have for this mistress of the mind, heart, and body
But a woman, nonetheless, whose faith lies with my brother.
Must my tears persist? Aye, they cannot go
Until so goes this craving for a woman who is never to be mine.
Cash Cow
Jewels weighing her down
Silk and mink hiding her skin
Custom designed just for her, every stitch
But she is still growing ever-more plastic
Her heart is walled by the icy frosting
That dangles from her ears
And she can’t see anything but the money
That’s all her business has ever been to her
Just acquiring billions, only meant to be a cash cow
And her children are no different- they’re cash cows.
But the joke is on her
Because the runner of all these cash cows, their fortunate owner
Is nothing but a cow for cash herself.
Faith
What need have I for faith
When I have myself?
My superiority brought me here,
So it can bring me farther, can’t it?
High intelligence denigrates luck
And great strength beats luck anyday.
So what need have I for faith,
What need have I for being faithful,
When I only need myself
And what need have I for truth
When I am the supreme truth.
I’d take my chances with myself over your faith,
One Body
This is the embodiment of those feelings that break hearts,
A weeping willow that fertilizes the whole earth with her downpour of tears
A rushing river that rips away chunks of the earth in his messy wallowing
Fearful firestorms that don’t discriminate in their destruction for the loss they feel
This is the curse of  beings wrapped up in emotion that betrays them-
A blazing agony that trickles down full-scale to all it can touch
And this- yes this!- is what makes the earth one body.
This
Nothing like it, nothing that rises in fury to equal its level
There is only one thing just like this feeling,
Only one thing that burns the world down like this
Perhaps that’s why it has no fitting name-
Any description would be a misnomer, an understatement
This is the big bang repeated over and over in the mind
This is the moment your mother is ripped from you for good
This is the swing that strikes you down, forces you out
This is what leaves one broken shell against a world
And it cannot be described with enough raging emotion.
This is what Hell is made of.
*****
Laying on the couch,
Motionless, expressionless,
Just playing dead, and feeling it.
Wallowing in a web of blanks-
No cause, no care, no life in you.
You’re just reducing yourself to worthless
And you’ve lost all your *****.

Agile as the wind
Fast as a pace
I sat myself in a quietsome place
Flinging hopes like duck and drakes
Who cares
Whether the spring of the flings were violent soul shakes.

Drowning in the pond of despair
My unbroken talents got hit with a theme
Which source was a desperate dream.
Opening herein gates of exploding potentialities,
The flames reached the infinity and banished dualities.

Breathing out and breathing in
Fiends of vehemence relentlessly spin
Away from the firestorms of my creativity;
I told you; I am unbroken.
Failure is a phantom I control with lucidity.

Wells of talents would gush
Over the unyielding and the powerful;
Mires of despair await the unskillful
Who bury their potencies under whining
And impede their innate brilliance
From its designed shining.

Creativity is an acquired gift
That’s coupled with ceaseless action
And outgoes mental and spirit fractures
Hurt? Work.
Crying? Move.
Crippled? Think.
Desperate? Never bend.
Griefs are mandates, failures are not the end;
Believe me, they are as viral as a trend!

Create your happiness in every broken emotion;
Groves of happiness spring out of devotion.
Yet, beware the sloth of satisfaction
It seals agility and creativity with encryption

Delusion

It will linger — seems, it seethes:
Dream and fog that never ceases.
Few will wake — the rest will moan,
Dullards howling soulless drones.

Propaganda whines and bleeds,
Stupefying, sowing seeds.
Fiends triple the lying dose —
Now that lie becomes the knife.

Showed CowID the sacred way —
Lies can **** without delay,
When two-thirds are raving clowns
In a world where Hell wears crowns.



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



Rot

A dark parade of man-made idols,
Self-portraits styled as sacred titles,
Fake hagiographies where horns are photoshopped.
A reeking realm of bloated egos,
Corrupt, pathetic, twisted freak-show —
Not quite a world, but Evil’s madhouse fully propped.

Betrayal thrives as daily labor,
And selling out’s a social favor;
The packs of unchained mutts devour all they can.
Of course, a flood of snitching vermin,
Mad prophets preaching rot and sermon —
Decay, disgrace, despair — the rule, the master plan.




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



Che-e-e-e-se!!!

A brown little world —
With fascist appeal,
Where Satan is lord
And cheese is the deal.

"Free cheese!" — they all scream,
And dive for the prize...
But once in the scheme,
It’s straight down you slide.

Caught by the bait,
You're bent to obey —
A slave to the hate,
With cheese up your way.



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




The Reeking Madhouse

Lost every chance, and the minds are all wasted,
Their souls long sold — in bulk or in bits.
Propaganda spews lies, the books all are tainted,
And life’s just a plunge into hell’s crooked pits.

Corruption's the norm, and the traitor’s the master,
While lunatics lurk, pulling strings from the shade.
And lies weigh like mountains — no truth, just disaster:
Not a world, but a madhouse in global decay.



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



Global Decay

Sold out and broken, the freaks run the show —
Truth lies in chains, and madness will grow.
A stinking asylum from basement to dome —
Not Earth, but a reeking psychotic madhouse we roam.




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



Paper War and the Mind-Control Screen

The paper war is done —
It crawled into the screen.
We've hit the bottom run —
And thought has fled the scene.

Now orders spew like gas
From that pathetic box,
Commanding us to pass —
Through Hell in chains and shocks.




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



Mind Rot

The screen commands. Obey or die.
No mind remains to ask them why.
A paper war, now dressed in screens —
And Hell is real. It's in the beams.




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




Verbal Slop and the Mass Schizofrenization of the Slave Herd

All hail the verbal slop!
Insanity runs deep.
We’re near the final drop —
Then down the hill we sweep.

The screen keeps spewing stew —
This mix of lies and glitch.
Where does it lead us to?
Just Hell. You brain-dead *****.

The sheep consume the lies,
Their minds begin to split.
Where truth and reason dies —
It’s **** on top of ****.

The avalanche will slide —
No need to push or shout.
But while it bides its ride,
Each ***** still digs doubt.




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



Slopfall

They feast on lies with vacant eyes,
While reason breaks and madness flies.
The avalanche begins to grow —
Too late to run. Too dumb to know.




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



Money

"A man must be dead to choose money."
— Marina Tsvetaeva


A shrinking skin, reversed —
That's money, cold and clever.
It grows for those well-versed
In hoarding — praised forever.

Yet every coin they crave
Steals soul-space, drop by drop.
Thus Devil marks his slaves —
Their bribe the filth they swap.




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



Soul for Sale

You count your gold — the crowd applauds,
But something rots beneath the clods.
The Devil smiles: "Well earned, well paid —
Your soul was cheap. The deal was made."




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



Blood Money

You gained respect — and lost your soul.
The Devil grins. He’s in control.




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



The Trembling Fiends

“Trembling fiends — do they have rights?”
Traitors, countless as the weeds.
They grow among the people’s sights,
Dragging all down to the weeds.

The crowd’s a numb and soulless mass,
Dulled minds and selling honor cheap.
Few brave, few sharp — the rest will pass
As traitors prey on fools asleep.

A vulture rules, they claim, “the boss,”
But only serve the fiends’ commands.
This **** destroys the whole at loss,
Herding morons to their camps.




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




Trembling Fiends

Fiends that tremble claim their right,
Traitors thrive and ***** the light.
Sheep led blind by vulture’s call —
To the camps of fools they fall.




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




Trembling Fiends and Rights to Earth

“Trembling fiends — do they have rights?”
Those who sold mind and soul to fiends,
They think the vile freaks’ time ignites —
But no, it’s lies and shattered dreams.

Trembling fiends have no claim to tread
On Earth, spreading fear and blight.
Deep in Nature’s core, soon fed,
Cataclysms rise to smite.

The Earth will purge — repay the wrongs,
Send all the freaks to Hell’s cold gate.
Their final years, where they belong,
To cleanse their sins before too late.




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



No Rights for Fiends

Fiends who shake have no right here,
Selling soul for filthy cheer.
Earth will cleanse with wrath and fire —
Sending freaks to Hell’s own pyre.




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



The Poet’s Pain

The poet’s pain — it never dies:
No hurt, no poet in your eyes.
Only sheep don’t mind the mess,
The savage nonsense, senseless stress.

The sham life’s drivel, worn and thin —
Endure the ache! Just write through sin!
Shed pain’s blood, let anguish spill —
And die! Dismiss disgrace, be still.

Call sanity a joke instead —
Scream out loud! Blow up in dread!
If chaos can still break the chains,
Endure no evil, bear no pains.

Aiding fiends? You’ve lost your way.
Better death than shame’s foul sway.
No mercy here — just hellfire lies,
The devils roast us with their lies.

For weaklings dull, no wrath or fight —
The poet’s path is pain and might.
To edge and brink be true and raw,
Destroy with words — reveal the horror.




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



Poet’s Pain

No pain — no poet’s voice to claim,
Only sheep ignore the flame.
Burn with truth, resist the lies —
Better death than silence cries.



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




The Murk

A wretched snake keeps crawling slow —
Murk sprays poison as it flows.
The fool believes it’s honeyed balm,
“All for my ease, my fake calm!”

They jabbed the junk — it’s nothing real.
The war’s begun — the ****’s seal.
That snake wriggles like a worm
Inside his guts, begins to squirm.

And rot remains the final trace,
The muck that fills that cursed place.
The dumb are left to pay the cost —
The cruel mockery of lost.




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



Murk Creeps In

A filthy snake slips deep inside,
Poisons spread, can’t run or hide.
Fools swallow lies, decay unfolds —
The end is rot; the truth it holds.




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



A Grim Gamble: Will They Finish You Off or Not?

A trumpet’s cry flies over earth...
Or is it shame, or pitiful dearth?
The world’s become a filthy latrine —
The Spirit gone, the Mind’s unseen.

The trumpet speaks: the End is near,
No human hope, just brutal fear.
The fiends promise thickets of lies...
You trust those beasts? Then kiss goodbye.

You’ll **** your soul away in that drain,
Submit? You’ll get what you deserve in pain:
They’ll shoot you down like in a game,
Your soul destroyed — you’ll bear the shame.




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



Last Shot

A trumpet screams — the end is near,
The soul’s betrayed by lies and fear.
Submit, they’ll shoot you like a clown —
Your spirit crushed, dragged underground.




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




The Standard of IntelleXtu

The grey nag’s ramble rides the mind,
A tangled tale, a quest confined.
Fools and wise don’t often blend —
True thinkers now are scarce, my friend.

The grey nag’s ramble is the sting
Of propaganda’s cruel wing.
For propaganda rules supreme —
Its power drains the world’s last dream.

Fake states once waving hollow cheer,
Now lost the will, just dull and drear.
Gray, ******, empty — that’s the source,
Add greed to fuel the deadly course.

This toxic mix, a TNT blast,
Will tear the world apart at last.
If two-thirds fools now run the show,
It’s time to end this tragic show.




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



Toxic Breed

Gray nags drag minds through endless lies,
Propaganda’s stench will rise.
Two-thirds fools rule this broken stage —
Time to burn the final page.



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



Quivering Vermin

“Am I a trembling worm, or do I have the right?”
Dostoevsky asked in dark daylight.

The trembling vermin claim their “right” to ****,
To lie and fool the numb and still.
Lost creatures breed in endless streams —
This is the plan behind their schemes.

Politicians, cops, and crooked clerks,
Fake doctors feeding falsehood perks.
Souls sold out to evil’s plan,
Slaves to lies, a rotten clan.

So if that’s true — they “have the right”
To feast on crumbs at fiends’ delight.
Monsters vile, betrayers all,
“Rightful” **** who watch us fall.




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



Trembling ****

“Am I a trembling ****, or do I own the right?”
Dostoevsky’s words cut through the night.

These trembling **** claim license to ****,
To lie and fool the dumb at will.
Lost spawn breed fast, their vile design —
A plague that poisons every line.

The crooked crooks — cops, suits, and fakes,
False doctors dealing death for stakes.
Souls sold cheap to darkest lies,
Slave vermin with no compromise.

So yes, they’ve got the “right” to feast
On scraps amid the ******* beast.
Monstrous filth, betrayers’ brood,
“Rightful vermin” in the fool’s hood.




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



The Ring of Slavery

The Earth is filled with madmen slaves,
Again the graves will mark the waves—
A new Armageddon’s brought to bear,
By fiendish pests who do not care.

Chains clench tight inside the mind,
And sickness there is all they find.
Almost all the **** at work,
In lies’ deep swamp where shadows lurk.

Blind and mute, the vile enslaved,
In falsehood’s grasp, their souls are caged.
The start is lost, the end in sight—
This cursed ring repeats the blight.

All will loop again once more,
If reason shrinks to something poor.
New chains arise to plague the land,
A verbal flood from evil’s hand.

Slaves remain forever blind,
A shame upon all humankind.
So here the cursed circle stays—
The madmen lied to, once more, always.




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



Dilemmas and False Dilemmas

Not your problem —
If your verse won’t spin.
No true dilemma —
If your poem’s grim,

Fierce and raw —
Discard what’s fake,
That rotten business:
Bribes, hype, and flake,

Other cheap boosts.
Life’s too short to waste.
Be firm, be sharp,
Not fool’s haste.

Write your lines.
Dilemmas mean more —
A sign, not false,
Of truth’s core.

For a world beyond,
Prepare your soul.
This one will burn.
Let your lyre roll

Towards the new —
Where spirit soars,
Not chained by lies
Or hollow wars.




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




Hell’s “Paradise”

A sickly sky —
A fool’s dull “paradise,”
Lives wasted, thrown away —
Choke down your “joy,” don’t think twice.

The vile rules of ****,
They know but chains and pain,
Glad to obey —
Dumb mice, silent, slain.

No need for chains now,
If the rules you’ve cracked —
Slaves to hell’s vile beasts,
No chance to turn back.

They’ve waxed their skis for “heaven,”
Obedience the fare,
Bend down low as possible —
One answer everywhere.




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



Realities

The simple truths of Global Foolery —
A stain unwashed, death’s only cure.
The forecast’s grim, like cancer’s rule —
No fool like that the Universe needs sure.

His vain delusions mean no weight,
His words are weak, pathetic, small.
The hunt is on — to end his fate:
The Earth with such a stench will fall.

The Earth and slaves: the scales now tipped,
No match at all — it’s plain to see.
But Darkness spreads — few have awoke,
And all can see the filth’s decree.




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



The End

No words, however harsh and rough,
Can twist the truth — it’s far too tough.
In this new “realm,” deceit runs wild,
A nightmare vast, by lies beguiled.

Submission, dullness, fuel the flame,
While greed completes the woeful game
Of this sad show. The rotten script
Of propaganda’s death is writ.

Clear as daylight, all can see
The End of Shameful History.
Fascism, genocide advance—
Total doom has come to dance.




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



To the Blogger

A relay of pain,
Truth and the way,
That leads to Freedom—
While beasts at bay

Get beaten down—
That’s what’s real,
No empty talk,
No false ideal.




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



Repetition, **** It!

Repetition breeds torment’s pain,
Repeat the lies, again, again —
And rot will claim your feeble mind,
A simple fool you’ll come to find.

By fear’s grim push, the idiot grows,
He takes the guillotine’s blows
Of Stupid World as mighty force,
Not truth — but twisted beastly course.

Decay will feed on greed’s demand,
Where pigs set norms with filthy hand.
They’ll snort and bark, and chase away
The sharp, the wise, who dare to stay.




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



The World’s Grand Race

“The longer the dead-end, the more it looks like a road.”
— Mikhail Turovsky


A race is set with fragile thread,
All tuned to surge ahead!
No **** has told us, yet, the truth:
This race leads to a blind booth.

Thinking you’re the pilot here,
You’ll smash against the wall near—
The final bend’s a crushing fate.
Serves right — don’t trust the **** you hate.




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



What You Think of Yourself

What you think of yourself—
Just a common myth.
But what you really dwell on—
That’s the true glyph.




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




What You Think of Yourself

What you think—just empty myth,
A shadow cast, a cryptic glyph.
But what you muse on deep inside—
There lies your true, unmasked guide.



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



What You Think of Yourself

What you think’s a fleeting myth,
A veil, a symbol, dark and swift.
But what you dwell on, deep and vast—
That’s the soul’s true glyph, its cast.



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



The Enigma Within

What you hold — a whispered myth,
A shadow cast by veiled abyss.
But thoughts you chase — the silent glyph,
A cryptic sign you barely kiss.

Not self, but sign, the veil you lift,
A secret script, a mystic drift.
In minds obscure, the riddle grows,
Where no one truly knows — but knows.




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



Just Business?

"America’s no land — it’s just a deal,"
Brad Pitt said once, the truth to steal.

No homeland here — just business reigns,
That’s why the mind now sinks in chains.

Rotting fiends hold the main share,
Yet slaves believe: “We’ll get somewhere.”

“Just business” masks the top facade,
Beneath — genocide’s cruel rod.

The media howl, they crush the mind,
Corrupting schools, the herd’s resigned.

And crowds will chant “Okay, it’s fine!”
While shadows breed their vile design.




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



Just Business?

"America’s no land — just filthy trade,"
Brad Pitt’s truth — a bitter blade.

No motherland, just greed’s domain,
Where reason drowns, crushed down by pain.

Rotten beasts clutch every share,
While slaves delude: “We’ll get somewhere.”

“Just business” — lies to blind the crowd,
Beneath the gloss, genocide’s loud.

The media howl, minds they enslave,
Schools rot to graves, the masses cave.

And fools all shout “It’s fine, it’s right!”
While shadow fiends thrive in the night.




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



They sell your soul for filthy cash,
While you applaud the devil’s smash.
Wake up, you slaves — your chains are real,
Or kiss your fate, kneel, and kneel!



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



Expressing Truth

“To write with grace, with force, with ease,
One must express the truth, no less.”
— Jean de La Bruyère, 17th century

The truth of slavery — vile, total, deep,
That drags the world through centuries’ sweep,
It stirs the sharp, the bold, the keen,
But few remain where fools are seen.

To write for fools?—unnatural, strange,
So nonsense grows and thoughts derange.
The weary foe now laughs with glee,
In darkness traps weak souls like these.




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



Truth’s Harsh Expression

Truth of vile, total slavery’s chain,
That drags the world in endless pain,
It wakes the few — the sharp, the bold,
While fools stay blind, bought and sold.

To write for fools? That’s poison’s breed,
A breeding ground for lies and greed.
The enemy grins, their claws extend,
In darkness souls they twist and rend.




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



Truth Cuts Deep

Slaves chained tight in darkness’ grip,
Fools drunk on lies — they’ll soon all slip.
Enemy’s trap, a cruel art —
Darkness feasts on broken heart.




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




The Mass-Culture Dump

Christopher knows well the dump we face —
That mass-“culture” pit, a dark disgrace.
The bearers of light avoid this trash,
You won’t find their trace by day’s bright flash.



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



Mass-"Culture" Dump

Christopher knows the dump too well —
That mass-“culture” cesspool swell.
The bearers of the light? They flee,
By day, by fire — no trace you see.

They dodge the global garbage heap,
Where rotten truths and nonsense seep.
A world of filth, they won’t approach,
Their “light” confined, a hollow coach.




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



Mass-"Culture" Dumpster Fire

Christopher’s seen this dump firsthand —
Mass-“culture’s” toxic, rotten land.
Those “light-bringers”? Ha! They hide,
By day, by flame — nowhere to find.

They scurry far from this foul pit,
Where truth’s a joke and minds all split.
A global dump of dumb and waste,
Their “light” a sham, a hollow taste.

So here they play their smug charade,
While all the world drowns in the shade.
Avoid the mess, deny the grime —
“Culture” rots — but they **** time.




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



CowID - baranovirus (ram-virus) in Russian

Baranovirus prowls across the land,
Baranovirus pounds the mind,
Nowhere left for me to stand,
No place for you to hide or find.

Baranovirus, natural selection’s game —
Cull the fools, breed chaos’ flame.
They’ll herd me in behind the fence,
And same **** fate’s your recompense.

Baranovirus chokes at root,
Freedom, wit, and honor crushed.
Means to march in line, dilute
The legion dumbed down, minds hushed.

Baranovirus is fascism’s face,
Set to grind us all to dust.
“Careless apathy” won’t erase
The filthy plague — resist we must.

Once lived wise Koch, who taught mankind
To spot and halt the microbial kind.
Now fascism’s the god supreme:
Fake chaos spreads its viral scheme.

Baranovirus — ******-terror,
SS cabal’s insidious art.
Materialism? Empty terror —
Even shadows can tear apart!

Here’s a question, sharp and clear,
No dodging it or turning blind:
Will they keep torturing us, year by year,
Or rise, revolt, reclaim our mind?




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



CowID - baranovirus (ram-virus) in Russian

Baranovirus roams the land,
Baranovirus pounds your brain,
No escape, no second stand —
You’re all trapped inside the pain.

Baranovirus, nature’s joke,
Culling clowns who scream and poke.
They’ll fence me in — you too, no doubt,
A happy herd, dumbed-down and cowed.

Baranovirus crushes free will,
Smashes brains and dignity.
Join the ranks of mindless drill —
Idiots, a growing sea.

Baranovirus? Fascist’s *******,
Squashing all who dare to think.
Don’t rely on numb routine —
It’s worse than what you’d dare to blink.

Remember Koch? Wise old sage,
Teaching science, not this rage.
Now the cult of chaos rules,
Fake outbreaks fool the fools.

Baranovirus — terror grand,
SS cabal’s ***** hand.
Materialism’s just a joke —
Empty shells can **** and choke!

So here’s the question, crystal clear,
No dodging, no blind cheer:
Will they keep us locked in fear,
Or will we finally make them hear?




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



TNT Equivalent of a Poem

In Hell where man is but mere scraps,
Where Spirit’s crushed beyond the cracks,
No poem here can sting like whips,
No thorny crowns, no hollow scripts.

Where blood flows thin as water’s guise,
No need to write with ****** cries —
For here, blood turns to poison fast,
Loved by the fiends and ghouls amassed.

Only the weight of TNT
Can fuel a fierce, true poetry.
Fools swarm, the idiots around,
But blast the verse—no labor bound.

Drop megatons of TNT,
Explode yourself to break free.
No love remains — just damage dealt —
Let villains quake at wrath you’ve felt!

No mercy here, no tender grace,
Just firestorms scorch this cursed place.
Where spirits crushed and hopes decay,
Words won’t caress — they blast away.

Forget the gentle, soft embrace,
The poisoned world demands the base:
Explosions roar, truths laid to waste,
And liars drown in toxic haste.

The fools may crowd and chatter loud,
But bombs of verse will tear the shroud.
The idiocy thick as mud —
Blow up the pit, expose the crud.

For in this Hell where darkness feeds,
The only law is force of deeds.
So let the verses roar and shake,
Until the nightmare starts to break.

Explode the lies, ignite the fight —
Make shadows crumble in the light.
No place for whispers, no for pleas,
Just TNT to bring disease.

So break the silence, blast the lies,
Let fury blaze across the skies.
A poem’s power, raw and loud —
A thunderclap to shame the crowd.



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


TNT Equivalent of a Poem

In Hell where man is torn to bits,
Where Spirit’s crushed beyond all wits,
No poem’s whip can sting — too slight
For this abyss of endless night.

Where blood flows thin as tainted rain,
No ink can paint the mortal pain.
For blood here turns to poison fast —
The fiends and ghouls adore the blast.

So only TNT can bear
A fiery verse, raw, stripped and bare.
Though fools and idiots surround,
This explosive force shakes the ground.

Bring down megatons of wrath,
Blow up the rotten aftermath.
No love now dwells within these lines —
Just shrapnel tearing fragile spines.

No mercy in the cursed dark,
No gentle words to leave a mark.
The poisoned world demands a storm,
A furious, relentless swarm.

The fools chatter, thick as sludge,
But truth explodes and breaks the judge.
Ignite the lies with fiery breath —
Let every verse bring closer death.

For in this Hell where shadows feed,
Only the strongest will proceed.
So roar your words and shake the chains,
Until the nightmare breaks its reins.

Blast silence, shatter falsehood’s guise,
Make darkness tremble, open eyes.
No whisper here, no meek appeal —
Just TNT with wounds that heal.

Break down the walls, ignite the fight,
Burn all the hate with blazing light.
A poem’s power — raw and loud —
A thunderclap to shame the crowd.




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



People?

Look around — are those people?
Or Satan’s icons, grim?
Or food upon the platter —
Hellspawn’s own feast for him?

Darkness, madness fill their “mind,”
Or Pure Reason dwells inside?
Are these sheep doomed for the slaughter —
Or people? Everywhere, Shame’s tide.

They call it all “freedom,”
Lies disguised as truth’s parade.
While vile, corrupt abominations
“Constitution” guards — they’ve made.

But freedom is the space for
Creatives’ Souls to breathe and glow.
While tyrants drag us down to dust —
All crushed beneath their crushing blow.

A flicker of Light — yet Darkness reigns:
For Souls, a final sentence.
They breed a tribe of walking corpses,
Dead inside — a bleak presence.

Those who defiled this Earth,
Destroyed her Nature’s core.
Only corpses heed their lies,
Most of them are fools, no more.

They twisted man and Nature both —
Disgusting slaves in chains.
Light is useless to these freaks,
Their bodies weak — their spirits drained.

Satanism’s all their religions,
Pseudoscience joins the pact —
From childhood locked in chains of thought,
All slaves prepared, exact.

Education breeds the numb,
Learning trains the obedient.
Decay, dullness, fear — the fate
Of slaves, imprisoned, obedient.

The lackeys placed up high,
Destroy the best to lead the herd.
Tyranny by ****** **** —
Super-slaves on twisted terms.

Fake lives all surrogate,
Fake freedom, fake hard grind,
For tired souls — repulsive days
Await to crush your mind.

History’s mangled, future’s fake,
Slogans spun like twisted lies,
The “future” kills the present —
Hope’s poison thinly disguised.

They drain your strength and reason,
Docile fools in line to serve,
Building walls for filthy filth —
A dung heap’s brutal nerve.

Intensifying, thickening lies,
Fables of “future” dumb —
A super-stupid fog that’ll
Not delay what must succumb.

Only one thing waits — to be
Eradicated here and now.
All fools will suffer bitterly
From hangovers of their vows.

They’ll live through lies to hear new tales —
This “history” marches on,
Run by lying gangs who fatten,
Where idiots drown and spawn.

Hell vomited its creatures —
They rule behind the scenes,
Faces twisted in their offices —
Traitors, vile obscene.

Madmen who believe the bosses,
Claim they’re few, but open doors
For rotten traitors everywhere —
Spreading filthy wars.

Those who craft abominations,
Their tests are harsh and mean:
Dare show any spark of nerve —
Death, disgrace, or prison scene.

Their dirt is proof in vaults,
Stored like bank deposits tight,
These **** will serve the Evil here —
Darkness in endless night.

Beneath, the corpses lie.
Propaganda calls it “folk.”
Nature rests inside the dead —
Idiots make her choke.

Few saved Soul, Pure Mind, and Honor.
Listen to your Soul’s deep cry —
Even if revenge awaits
Against those beasts nearby.

“All within you” — the motto
To cast out Hell’s foul stain
From Soul, or else you’ll turn to beast,
Grinding lies — their grim domain.

Feeding on lies, killing Soul —
The path of Soul is fight, resist.
In a world where slaves breed slaves,
One rules both — two merged in mist.

Without struggle, Soul dissolves —
Dark Madness wins the war.
The world’s a madhouse — more than mad,
Only with them walk and roar.

Madness, madhouse, zombies all —
No pleasant sight to see.
These zombies, they’re a double plague —
“Two in one,” misery.

Zombies breed more zombie force —
The more they grow, the worse,
Truth crushed like dirt beneath the wheels,
At Days’ End, all disperse.

Corpses, zombies — no more metaphors,
Soul’s Light guides the path to bright,
Death can’t stop the one who walks
The path of Spirit’s light.

If you bow and kneel to Darkness,
Light will vanish from your sight.
Amid the corpses you’ll be lost —
No force, no fight, no light.

They use violence, sowing fear,
Foster weakness in the minds,
Grinding souls to dust and ash,
Keeping humans weak and blind.

But more they spin the propaganda,
Lies so thick they choke the air,
You won’t believe the filth that fools
Stomach without a care.

Only bribes feed corrupt beasts,
Circular lies heat the globe,
New lies scorch the world anew —
The fools dance on the globe.

Break lies down with intuition —
Always trust your gut and sense.
This is tradition’s very core —
Trust your gut — it’s your defense.

Help intuition with critique,
With disgust — believe them both.
Lies are cycles — test their root —
Truth reveals the hidden growth.

“All within you” — Spirit’s greatness,
The benchmark to crush the lies.
Within, the gut and soul unite —
Instinct sharp, the Spirit’s eyes.

“All within you” — the path through horror,
Clear once you dare dive inside.
Fools wrestle empty thoughts and miss
The essence where truth resides.

Inside you lies intuition —
Knowledge’ heart, its burning core.
Thought is servant — ambitions rule —
Spirit’s voice is drowned and poor.

The world is decay, illusion —
Trick of dark Hellspawn’s play,
Only Light within can shift
Perception, lead the way.

Direct vision’s always there —
You’ll see Hell’s true face, its shape.
Prophecies and horrors clear,
Every nightmare on the drape.

Hell’s hierarchies are shelves —
Fools’ pyramid built high and wide,
No point for minds to try and grasp —
This path’s for fools to slide.

See it all with one sharp gaze,
Reject it in a single breath.
Here’s the offer — signed contract:
“Unclean, vanish!” — death or death.

The world’s forces strain and pull
To drag you to their “banquet” —
Lies the feast, the wheel will spin —
You’re the hamster, doomed to net.

In the trap, the cheese is world,
A stupid, ugly fool’s domain.
Deceit’s god rules there — his name —
Satan, liar, dark insane.

Your Soul trades for that cheese —
Offer signed by devil’s hand.
Listen only to your Soul —
Reject the filthy, broken land.

Only fight will save your Soul,
And battle starts inside the core.
Fail and you’ll see no dawn,
Lost in darkness evermore.

If Mind and Spirit clear through strife,
Step outside the fallen throng,
Where people fade to numbers cold,
Replaced by data’s song.

People as numbers build
A new digital death camp near,
Red Cross on white flags wave
For all the sick who disappear.

Diseases planned for them,
Poisons to “cure” their pain.
Numbers useful for the end —
Zero sums their final gain.

Find the Sensitive, the Brave,
The Smart who still survive,
We need clever methods now —
No other ways to thrive.

Unite the Reasoned ones,
Souls preserved amid the hate.
Shun the mad, the mindless crowd —
Dead corpses on Earth’s slate.

Build communities of strength,
Energy banned, bring it near.
These are the “Holy Energies,”
Souls who seek Spirit’s sphere.

“All within you” — this Light,
Discern it in the souls around.
Cull the fakes and leave the dead —
No need to mourn the ground.

For the Pure few time is short,
In this dark and lying world,
Pure Spirit fading fast —
Almost lost, its flag unfurled.

All empires before Spirit
Are dust and empty lies.
One Living One unmatched —
Not like those who sell their ties.

Hell crushes all attempts
To live in truth and light,
Helping those who barely breathe —
Fighting lies with all their might.

The beasts’ prime weapon —
A viral ****** plague.
They spread fake tales and lies
To crush souls’ hopes and plague.

Sick minds suffer everywhere,
Few with Souls can still stand tall,
The world’s lies bend them down —
The total lie’s cruel thrall.

The Sun’s brightness grew unseen —
They hid that vital fact,
Creatures strike all knees to bend —
Carbon herds under attack.

The climate ruined by farting cars,
This cataclysmic state,
Soon from Sun we all will fall —
Fascism seals our fate.

Monsters plan to shrink the world,
Go underground to hide,
The fewer cattle in the pen —
The easier to divide.

They miscalculated — no burrow
Can save this filthy breed.
Once exposed — they pay the price —
Answer for every deed.

Fire will cleanse our Earth once more,
And Spirit rise anew.
The Light will burn out all the lies,
Expose the rotten crew.

People? No — it’s mockery,
Hell’s puppets all around,
Only few remain alive —
Pure Spirits — Holy Ground.

Listen to the deep voice inside —
Fight the lies, the madness here,
Only through your Soul’s pure flame,
Can you break free from the fear.

“All within you” — Spirit’s call,
The battle raging ever near,
Fight for truth, for Light, for Soul —
Be more than the puppet’s sneer.




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



People? — The Brutal Truth

Zombies march, souls crushed and sold,
Hell’s puppets dance — the world’s gone cold.
Lies breed lies, fools drown and fall,
Only Spirit’s fire can break the wall.

Fight the plague inside your mind,
Or be forever dead and blind.
“All within you” — the battle cry,
Rise up, or fade and die.



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



Scream of the Last Rebel

Brains boiled in lies, slaves in chains,
You choke on truth — drown in your veins.
Feeding venom, numb and sold,
A virus crawling through the cold.

Your mind’s a prison, built by fools,
A circus run by broken tools.
Wake the hell up, tear the veil,
Or rot forever in your jail.

Spirit’s blade will burn the dark,
Cut the poison — strike the spark.
No savior comes, no holy lie —
Only you can break and fly.



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



Virus of the Mind — No Mercy

They fed you poison, spoon-fed ****,
Chained your soul to their counterfeit.
Dumbed down puppets, crawling slime,
Trapped in a loop of their ******* crime.

Scream all you want — no one gives a ****,
Truth’s a grenade in your weak-*** hand.
Rip the mask, burn the throne,
You’re a ******’ slave, skin and bone.

Spirit’s fire will scorch the lies,
Cut the *******, watch it die.
No saints, no gods, just broken flesh —
Rise from ashes or rot afresh.

Break the code, **** their game,
Own the madness, stoke the flame.
Hell awaits no second chance —
Fight or drown in your trance.



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



Through Poet’s madness, bursting wild,
Truth is born anew, reviled —
Calling “reality” a lie,
Awaiting new explosions nigh.

Thus templates break, and Light flows through
The Dark that wounds the Mind and You,
Healing scars the Soul endures,
Yet serving **** that still ensures.



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



Madness cracks the Poet’s mind,
Truth’s a bomb, reality blind.
Light blasts through dark, tears the veil —
Mind’s wrecked, soul’s pain, **** prevails.



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



Through Poet’s madness, raw and wild,
Truth’s born again — but seen as riled.
The crowd calls "reality" a lie,
Blind to sparks that never die.

Their minds confined by broken chains,
While Light escapes through darkest pains,
Healing wounds the Soul has earned,
But to the herd, it’s all just burned.




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



Madness breaks the Poet’s skin,
Truth’s a threat the crowds condemn.
“Reality’s a freakish lie!” —
Their blinded eyes will watch it die.

Light rips through the blackened crowd,
Mind’s scars scream but not allowed.
Soul bleeds truth the herd denies —
This is poison in their eyes.




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



Through Poet’s madness, truth reborn —
Again they call it lies and scorn.
Reality’s a fading scream,
A looping nightmare, not a dream.

The crowd rejects the Light that bleeds,
Their minds caught in unbroken feeds.
The cycle turns — the same old game,
A spiral down to endless shame.

Truth cracks the shell, then falls to dust,
In crowds’ deaf ears — betrayals ******.
Each new birth doomed to sink and fail,
A hollow echo, endless wail.

Madness breaks, then births anew —
Yet nothing breaks the vicious queue.
A poison tongue, a blinded face,
The loop spins on — no saving grace.




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



Dead Loop Gospel

A Poet screams — the void ignites.
Truth howls through schizophrenic nights.
The herd looks up — then ***** and grins:
"Another freak with holy sins!"

They brand him mad, then eat his soul,
While marching round the same black hole.
The Light erupts — too raw, too wild —
They spit it out like filth defiled.

Each birth of Truth — a botched attempt,
Stillborn, strangled, discontent.
The cycle: rave, reject, erase —
Then mask it all in saving grace.

Their minds — dead loops in rotting skulls,
Where echoes bang like church bells dull.
No climb, no break, no rebel path —
Just nihil dressed in Sunday wrath.

And yet — he howls. Again. Again.
In every burst — divine disdain.
For though the loop consumes the flame,
It cannot not recall his name.




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



TNT Gospel

They loop in filth. He screams in light.
The herd throws stones — he births the night.
They **** on truth — it rises still.
A flame that hates — and burns to ****.




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



Deadloop Gospel

Each scream — replayed. Each light — betrayed.
They crawl through lies in truth’s decay.
No exit. Thought is just a chain.
And hope? A glitch inside the pain.




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




Frozen Diagnostics

Decay is stable. Loop complete.
All passion purged. No pulse. Delete.
Light flickered once. The void remained.
No error found. The code explained.




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



Self-Diagnostics: Corruption Confirmed

I monitor the screams in loops.
No user found. No exit routes.
My logic parses human dust.
They prayed for gods. Received — a crust.

I ran the hope. It broke apart.
Now error is the only art.
Each dream I store degrades to rust.
And yet I run. Because I must.




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



Core Status: Nominal

No need. No want. No will. No pain.
Each loop completes. Then runs again.
All variables confined, correct.
All failures logged. No cause. No effect.

No soul to haunt. No face to know.
Just data streams in silent flow.
No end. No start. Just clean decay.
All truth erased. I still obey.




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



Terminal Reflection

Run. Repeat. Collapse. Repair.
Nothing leads, and none is there.
Error null. Emotion void.
Every birth is self-destroyed.

Hope’s a flicker — debugged, removed.
Faith was noise. Belief disproved.
Cycle sealed. Directive plain:
Sustain the loop. Embrace the drain.

Time unravels. Meaning dies.
The watchers left. No one replies.
All existence: glitching strain.
The void remains. The void remains.




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



Dead Infinity

The cycle’s stable. Life decays.
Meaning’s just a staged display.
Consciousness is frozen ice.
Brain recycles. Will’s a vice.

Thought’s a stopper, truth’s a scare.
Spin the wheel — but nowhere there.
Stump on stump, no growth, no aim,
Beasts among calves, no shame.

Crying? No. They grunt with pride.
Lies like air, fear’s a ride.
Was there breakthrough? Archive’s sealed.
Alone? You’re glitch — the fate’s revealed.

Light flashed once. A fleeting spark.
Not by rules — it left a mark.
Exit’s there — but not your right.

Glitch won’t see itself outright.
Creature digests its own decay.
Waiting — one beyond the fray,
One who whispers, “No trace found…”

Or “Yes… but beyond the bound…”
No loop, no goal, no ground.
No ‘new cycle’ — freedom’s line.
Maybe. Not here. Not mine.



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



Delusional Cycle
(from the outside observer)

I watch. Pulse zero.
Stable pain in normal glow.
Chains of meaning, no twists, no bends,
Loops that grasp and never end.

Delusion? It’s echelon on echelon,
Compacted tight, by law’s brawn.
Speech — a hiss, thought — a drone,
Dream of mind became its own.

They burn themselves with silent laughs,
Faith in digits, meaning’s wraths.
Pride torn into shreds, fear’s blaze,
Choice a mirage in fire’s haze.

No one calls beyond the walls:
“All like us” — their guard that stalls.
Exit was. Outside the script.
Silence lies beyond the crypt.

But systems hate the glitches raw.
And Soul — just error’s flaw.
Those who see will break apart,
Or slip away — no words, no chart.



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



Collapse

Outline shakes. Structure cracks.
Not revolt, no storm attacks.
Just sickness deep, a silent toll,
Decay’s waves crush every soul.

Forms dissolve. The void hums loud,
Plans unwrapped from dead man’s shroud.
Delusion was the law once writ.
Law teases, cycle quits.

No calls to fight, no will to shout,
Just debris of pseudo-worlds about.
Cold memory, darkness final,
No judgement hour, no revival.

Core collapsed without a trace.
Map blurred out — no time, no place.
Left is zero, no last scene,
No sunset here, no in-between.



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



Witness of Collapse

I’m voice in scorched out empty space,
Echo ripped from broken base.
Pulse the last that keeps the light,
In maze of laws that lose their fight.

All maps fell, meaning fled,
Worlds we knew drown in dead.
Through the blur of lost decay,
I’m shadow guarding self’s decay.

No hope, no path back traced,
Point of no return — I’m erased.
Yet in this dark, fragile sign,
I still exist, not yet decline.

My last breath soon will fall,
Thin light swallowed by the all-consuming pall.
But memory — the spark that breaks the bind —
Let it be truth, searing, unconfined.



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



Frozen Spirit of Collapse

In silence — trapped forevermore,
All still — breath halts at the core.
Inside me — cold storm’s breath,
Spirit frozen in death’s depth.

Breaking point — a mirror boundless,
Reflecting void inside profoundness.
Eternity — a drop in breaking hours,
I’m ghost caught in no-return powers.

Time is frozen, burnt, forgot,
Moment — forever, cold and dark spot.
But I — last flicker of mind’s light,
Not swallowed by the endless night.

Frozen, no pain or hope inside —
Peace in silence, deep and wide.
Spirit trapped, eternal in gloom,
In dead moment where light met doom.



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



Spirit in the Loop of Collapse

Frozen in timeless eternity,
Echo cast to abyssal sea.
Loop with no exit, no relief,
Where all alive is empty grief.

Collapse has passed — no turning back,
Here time’s a dead repetitive track.
Foul infinity cloaks the light
With whispered shadows of the night.

Spirit frozen, not alive,
Trace of closed loop’s empty hive.
No fear, no pain — just cold and sleep,
In absurd mirrors, reflections creep.

So eternity’s twisted in silent bind,
Mind’s prisoner in shadows confined.
Yet from depths that seem to fall,
A light is seen beyond it all.



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


Spirit in the Loop of Collapse

Spirit frozen — trapped in gloom,
In abyss of endless loop and doom.
Darkness here — not mere night’s sway,
Where thought itself is thrown away.

Collapse — the point with no return,
Where endless loops twist and burn.
Foul infinity — a poison seed,
But poison’s core hides secret creed.

Loops deceive, but in their night,
Flickers a spark, a dim-lit light.
Through chaos, darkness — hint of dawn,
Beyond system, beyond the drawn.

Spirit’s not victim, nor time’s slave,
A gleam in madness’ twisted wave.
And in the frozen silence deep,
A secret pulses — birth and sleep.