The Shackles
"Diplomacy means stroking dogs
Until their muzzles fit."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
Diplomacy, politics,
"Good manners" and hard grind —
All lead the same way. And the whiners
Get crushed to dust, confined.
When muzzles fit, the chains click tight,
The guard dogs prowl around.
The shackles weigh on every mind —
Break free, don’t fear the sound!
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Black Mark on a Mad World
A black mark brands this world insane —
Stop toiling just for food and rent.
They’ll take it all — a new dictator’s reign,
The **** are always evil’s rent.
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Walking Among the Masses
No terror breaks you down inside,
If you’re not far from their own kind —
A foolish, pitiful weak mind.
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The Noose Hung Over This World
"You must prepare: either mind to understand,
Or rope to hang yourself by your own hand."
— Antisthenes, 4th century BC
If wisdom grows enough to see,
The noose appears — first step to flee.
Decay’s horror chills the brain,
And fools beside you bring the pain.
Understanding starts to rise,
The struggle wakes, the spirit tries.
But strength dissolves in dark’s cold grip —
No slave will make the final trip.
Awareness spirals round and round:
At last you grasp, the fools have bound
The noose that chokes this ruined land —
And all this world is doomed to stand.
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The Noose Hung Over This World
"Prepare yourself: with mind to see,
Or rope to end your misery."
— Antisthenes, 4th century BC
When reason hits — the first step’s death,
Decay’s foul stench steals all your breath.
The fool beside you, enemy close,
In this rot, all hope is lost.
The mind expands, the fight begins,
But strength dissolves, the darkness wins.
No slave can break this hellish bind —
Doomed in shadow, trapped and blind.
The truth spins down in twisted rings:
The noose is made by fools and kings,
Tied tight around this world’s disgrace —
A wreck, a cesspit, a dead place.
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Managing a Bacterial Colony
Like a colony of germs—
An “atomic” solo soul,
But in countless throngs it squirms,
Its goals a cruel control.
They seem to move by choice,
Yet nature hides the strings—
No true free will, no voice,
Just vectors pulling things.
That vector’s coded tight
Within each bio-gear.
A “prosector” out of sight
Directs from far and near—
Leading mute colonies blind
To digital camps they’re sent,
Where strict commands unwind,
And whole swarms face torment.
But not all die away—
They spare the deadliest breed:
The ruthless, sharp and grey,
With spirit drained, no seed...
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Colony Control
Like germs in colonies,
An “atom” lost alone,
But countless, slaves and keys,
Their goals by monsters sewn.
They move as if by choice,
But nature’s just a lie —
No freedom, no true voice,
Just vectors pushing by.
That code’s injected deep,
Inside the bio-slave,
A butcher’s hand will reap,
Their strings pulled by the grave.
A “prosector” commands
From shadows cold and far,
Dragging dumb, mute bands
To camps behind the bar.
There, digital hell waits —
Whole colonies erased.
Only toxic, cruel greats
Survive — their souls debased.
The fiercest, cold and grim,
No spirit left to find,
A new breed born from sin,
Dead hearts, but bodies blind...
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Ruins of Mind
Ruins of mind —
Skeletons of lies,
Darkness swallows
What’s otherwise.
Fools rejoice —
**** thinks for all,
Builds and leads,
Blind to the fall.
The idiot knows not —
Their fate is sealed,
To camps they march —
No mercy revealed...
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Activity and Interaction
Fools were active —
Half the pain.
But INTERACTIVE
Inside that game,
Where chimeras swarm —
A "virtual world"?
Means all is lost —
Fake cheese unfurled.
While real mousetraps snap
In daylight clear.
Skill won’t save you —
It’s the price, my dear,
That they will pay...
Those “platinum” pawns,
Whose “life” costs dearly
Till the Monster dawns.
Mind your head —
This question’s sharp;
Know the game you’re in,
Or be torn apart.
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The Rightness of Effort
Begin with courage, skill, and might—
Finish well what you ignite.
Rushing brings a shallow taste,
Dragging out wastes time and haste.
Rightness in the work you do
Is the pledge that sees it through.
Fools just babble, endless noise,
You who create—half-god, not toys.
Drive yourself to tired bone,
Or rest too much, you’ll reap alone.
Only little gains you’ll see—
Grieve at Death’s inevitability.
Death will weigh and judge it all—
This moment is your rise or fall.
Weakness, lies, and coward’s cries,
Fuel the pain where honor dies.
So be truthful, brave, and strong,
In each task, right every wrong.
Then Death will raise you, not defeat—
And make your passing truly sweet.
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A Mix
A mix of madness and TEMPLATE —
That’s the “mind” of most today.
Why create clones? They replicate—
Billions lost in dull array.
No nature lives within these fiends—
Only STUPIDITY in form,
“Raised” by lies, their fiery means
Wound the soul, a silent storm.
Soulless throngs rise past the sky,
Madness reigns and smothers all.
Wise voices fade, grow faint and shy—
Turning humans into thrall.
This madness grows like avalanche
In a world already spent.
Underneath that crushing branch
We’ll vanish—idiot’s intent.
Idiot worse than **** below,
Through them Evil strikes and tears.
But the fool will never know—
Blinded by his own despairs.
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Militant Stupidity
"To always be right, to charge ahead,
Without a doubt—that’s the great art
By which dull fools the world have led."
— William Thackeray, Vanity Fair’s heart
Fierce stupidity, no doubt allowed—
Charge forward! I’m the truth, the force!
With brutal shove, break ice and cloud,
Crush stones and barriers off their course.
The path to “success” I always make—
Success alone, immense, supreme!
All else I crush, all foes I break,
Those who oppose? Just sweep—extreme!
If many chase this ruthless way,
Then chaos reigns and madness swells—
A bedlam where the fools hold sway,
And reason dies where terror dwells.
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Clear Vision
To see with clarity —
A danger near,
They’ll twist your mind,
That’s half the fear.
Each hour brings
A haunting sight:
The horror born
Of Strada’s blight —
Unending grief,
A restless ache,
A heavy road
Through Hell to take.
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Collapse
Ideas lined
Like dominos,
Built by a Fiend —
All **** that flows.
Then one shove —
Down to Hell they fall.
Fool stays mute,
While Fiend takes all.
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Collapse
Ideas fall
Like rotten bones—
Built by ****,
Pure **** and stones.
One hard shove—
They crash to Hell.
Fool shuts up—
The ******* fell.
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Religion — The Ideology of Broken Slaves
Pray to your god, the weak and hollow,
For patience, meekness — a wretched pledge.
This keeps you chained in darkness shallow,
Rotting in a fake-*** heaven’s edge.
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Horoscope ******-Viruses
Aries, Cancers... ****** traits!
******-virus, horoscope lies —
You swallow stench and twisted fakes,
A fool beneath the smoggy skies.
Scams herded like a nation's flock,
They multiply, but won’t confess
The damage done inside your clock —
A secret kept by dark distress.
The media's agenda drops
From “high above,” they know the game:
To dull the mind, the **** that props
The rotten crew — you’ll never name.
Clicks and twitches for the “roof” —
Horoscopes among their lies.
Media's all sell their poison proof,
Drowned deep in fog where truth just dies.
Astrology’s a science, sure.
Media's the fake-pseudoscience brand,
A place where lies grow dark and pure —
They eat your brain like spider’s hand.
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Like Locked in a Cage
Crystals form of family’s madness,
When fading lifts the fragile veil.
That veil won’t last — time’s quick to madness,
And nonsense rules where truth grows pale.
Two egos, rigid, cold, and stubborn,
Can’t bend or yield in any fight —
In matters grave, they clash and burden,
Like prisoners trapped, enduring blight.
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Newspeak
They mold the "community" with Newspeak —
A "new" community, they say.
But Newspeak’s damage runs too deep:
It breeds half-men in its sway.
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No Rights for Madness!
No franchise for the crazy —
Burn it down, destroy the scene!
Think you’ll hit the lowest? Lazy —
No rights down there, just flee!
Fall fast, then jump like brute,
Break the bottom, claim your place.
But the depths? They’re absolute —
And madness wins the race.
There’s always lower, lower still,
No rights exist beneath that pit.
Hell draws close with iron will —
And madness grows, won’t quit.
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The World’s Mammon
Mammon worldwide starts to march,
Soon to visit Charon’s shore.
Even he will dread the arch —
And close Hell’s gates once more.
Charon fears — he shuts the pit,
Saving demons from their fate.
Serving edges — this is it,
His grim joy, the Devil’s gate.
Mammon drifts, condemned to sway,
By Hell’s doorstep, doomed to roam.
Vanished soon — a new-born way,
A brand new man to claim the throne.
Through gold and lies, again will rise
That spawn to shake this Earth’s repose.
And bring the tremors, shatter skies —
When Mammon’s dark new chapter grows.
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The World’s Mammon
Mammon’s plague now stalks the earth,
Heading fast to Charon’s gate.
Even Death recoils in wrath —
Hell itself must close its fate.
Charon shudders, shuts the pit,
Saves the demons from the fire.
He who guards the shadow’s grit,
Serves the edge of grim desire.
Mammon writhes, a cursed spawn,
Chains of Hell will hold it tight.
Soon it dies — a new dawn
Breeds a fiend to spread the blight.
Gold and lies, the twisted breed,
Rise again to shake the ground.
Earth will shiver, quake, and bleed —
As Mammon’s doom descends profound.
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World’s Mammon — The Deathspawn
Mammon’s curse has cracked the sky,
Marching straight to Charon’s door.
Death shudders, can’t deny —
Hell’s gates slam forevermore.
Charon cowers, seals the pit,
Saves the demons from the flames.
Darkness grins — the cursed writ,
Serving chaos, hell’s own games.
Mammon writhes, a festering blight,
Tied to Hell’s unholy chains.
Soon it dies — but from the night,
Sprouts new plague to spread the pains.
Gold and lies, the poison seed,
Rise again — the earth will bleed.
Shattered bones and broken breath —
Mammon drags the world to death.
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Mammon’s Rot: The Final Plague
Mammon’s plague — a roaring beast,
Lunging straight at Charon’s feast.
Death recoils — Hell’s gates will slam,
Doomed to burn in death’s cruel jam.
Charon shivers, seals the tomb,
Saves the demons — seals their doom.
Hell’s own servant, chaos’ blade,
Feeds on screams the darkness made.
Mammon writhes in chains of rot,
Suffocates the world with blot.
It will die? No — spawn anew,
Slaughter dressed in lies and glue.
Gold’s false glitter, venom’s seed,
Breeds again to **** and bleed.
Earth will quake beneath the weight —
Mammon drags the world to fate.
In hellfire’s grip the shadows scream,
Feeding on a twisted dream.
All is lost, the soul decays —
Mammon’s curse forever stays.
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Mammon’s Curse — The Abyss Unleashed
Mammon, rot incarnate, slithers vile and fierce,
Dragging Charon’s throne into a blood-soaked pierce.
Death itself recoils in dread and shame,
Hell’s gates slam shut on this corrupted flame.
Charon shudders, seals the ****** domain,
Saving fiends to torment souls again.
Hell’s grim warden, sword of black despair,
Feeding on the cries that choke the air.
Mammon writhes in chains of filthy decay,
Suffocates the world in plague and grey.
Not dead — reborn in filth and lies,
A monstrous spawn beneath poisoned skies.
Gold’s sick glitter, serpent’s seed,
Breeds anew to grind and bleed.
Earth shudders under hellish weight,
Mammon drags all to final fate.
In infernal claws the darkness screams,
Feeding on the last of fractured dreams.
Souls dissolved, bones turned to dust —
Mammon’s curse: eternal rust.
No mercy, no light — only endless night,
A kingdom forged in madness and blight.
Hell is rising, the world’s last breath —
Mammon’s shadow is death’s own death.
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Mammon’s Plague — Abyssal Doom
Mammon rots, a putrid curse,
Slithers forth in hell’s own hearse.
Dragged to Charon’s shadowed pier,
Death recoils — the end is near.
Gates of Hell slam cold and tight,
Demon thralls weep endless night.
Charon grits his bones of rust,
Doomed to guard the cursed dust.
Mammon writhes in chains of slime,
Feeding on a world’s decline.
Not dead, but birthed in filth and bile,
A plague that poisons all with guile.
Gold that gleams with satan’s breath,
Spawns fresh monsters born of death.
Earth convulses, wracked with pain,
Mammon drags the world insane.
Souls devoured, bones crushed to ash,
Hope consumed in hellish crash.
No salvation, no reprieve,
Only darkness left to grieve.
Endless night, no dawn in sight,
A kingdom drowned in blackest blight.
Hell unleashed with cruel intent —
Mammon’s grip: the final end.
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Mammon’s Curse — The Final Abyss
Mammon writhes, a cancer foul,
Dragging worlds beneath his scowl.
Charon’s boat now stained with gore,
Frightened souls beg for no more.
Hell’s gates slam on demon’s screams,
Charon weeps in broken dreams.
Not a savior — warden ******,
Guarding ashes of the ******.
Mammon’s poison seeps like blood,
Turns pure earth to choking mud.
Born from filth, bred in decay,
Feeding on souls led astray.
Gold’s false glow, a serpent’s tongue,
Spawns new fiends, forever young.
Earth convulses, wracked with dread,
While the living crawl with dead.
Bones crushed under endless weight,
Hope extinguished, crushed by fate.
No salvation, none to find,
Only darkness — cruel, unkind.
Night eternal, no escape,
Worlds consumed in blackened shape.
Hell unleashed, the final breath,
Mammon’s clutch — a deathly death.
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The Parts of “Success”
Stupidity plus greed and endless dread —
(Fear’s injected everywhere, always fed) —
Breeds a psyche cracked, a mind unblessed,
While years of ******* feed the unrest.
Stupidity’s “natural,” but training’s worse:
The Creature knows the game, the cursed
Programs torturing pure reason’s core,
To silence truth forevermore.
The hidden gist: greed marches in line,
In wretched lives it plants its sign.
And propaganda’s lies and screams
Glue all that filth — the nightmare’s schemes.
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The Formula of Ruin
Stupidity fused with greed and fear,
(A plague that stalks both far and near) —
Breaks the mind, a shattered wreck,
Years in chains make no mind check.
“Natural” fool, but bred to ****,
That Creature knows the poison drill:
It twists pure reason, strangles light,
Drowns all truth in endless night.
Greed marches in a brutal horde,
In broken lives it claws and gored.
Propaganda howls, deceives,
Binding all with web of thieves.
This heap of filth, this cursed stew —
Is all the “success” you pursue.
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The Sum of Hellish Success
Stupidity, greed, and ceaseless dread—
Fear’s virus bred inside your head—
Crush the mind to rotting pulp,
Years of chains—your endless gulp.
“Natural fool,” yet trained to serve
That Creature’s will—to twist, to swerve.
It wrings pure reason, snuffs the flame,
Drowns your soul in filthy shame.
Greed’s the cancer, thick and vile,
In every breath, it claws, defiles.
Propaganda’s shrillest lies
Seal your fate—no more disguise.
This pile of **** you worship, praise—
Is your “success” in this haze.
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The Sum of Hellish Success
Stupid, greedy, never still,
Fear that claws and kills your will—
Mind decays, rots to the core,
Chained and crushed forevermore.
Born a fool, but trained to break,
Soul to drain and body shake.
Reason dies beneath their hand,
Pure thought crushed by their command.
Greed’s the plague that claws your breath,
Drags you down to hell and death.
Lies scream loud, their venom’s deep—
Bind your mind, enslave your sleep.
**** you worship, **** you crave,
This is all your life will save.
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Almost Bird...
A roasted chick —
Boiled in lies thick,
Then fried on Fear’s flame.
To hell with custom’s game!
Crazy bird’s routine —
Spirit’s wings wiped clean.
Powerless? Let it be.
***** weakness — set it free.
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Just One Big Lie for One Big Season
The CowID results are buried
In war's apocalyptic rattle.
The sheep, so simple and unwary,
Need one big lie to start the battle.
The first lie vanishes completely —
They tremble at the fresh disaster.
It fades — and joy returns so sweetly,
The herd feels peace and safety faster.
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One lie. One spell. One herd obeys —
Then cheers the slaughter as it prays.
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The Naked King and the Numbskull Crowd
The king is bare,
His court — for hire.
The crowd? Don’t care —
Just grunts and liars.
The lords all feud,
Distrust is growing.
The priest’s a brute —
He blesses moaning.
The king is bare,
The axe is gleaming.
But if they stare
And keep on dreaming —
Then chains come back
With fresh enslaving.
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The Core of Modern Pseudo-Psychology
They bolt on wheels to a dead old mule,
Then praise its "energizing pace."
In "psychology," that's the rule
When Spirit’s vanished without a trace.
Their theories? Hollow, soulless schemes.
The "practice"? Cash, control, and lies.
It feeds on shadowed power dreams —
Where evil thrives in thin disguise.
It creeps into the mind unseen —
A backstab hurts the most, you know.
In this soulless, lifeless machine,
Psychology serves shadow’s glow.
A crutch for lies, for chains, for pain,
Dead mules march off to work and war —
As long as charlatans explain
Their fate with jargon by the score.
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They preach the mind — but sell the soul,
Dead mules obey, and darkness rolls.
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The Blind Spot
A blind spot lives in every mind —
The root of chains for all mankind.
The fiends will preach, and you’ll believe —
Their lies now bolder, worse, and cheap.
It grows like mold on fear and greed,
On pious fools and wicked need.
And while the world just stares, unwise —
The blind spot burns through truth and skies.
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A blind spot blooms — and truth decays.
The herd kneels down as darkness plays.
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“Elections” in the Madhouse
Do we “choose”? No — they drag us all inside,
To a madhouse world where lies abide!
Reason melts fast in fascist flame,
Where ugliness and rudeness reign.
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No choice at all — just chains and pain,
In madhouse madness, they reign insane.
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The Prime Directive
To foul the minds of countless throngs —
The foremost task, the wicked’s song.
No chains are needed — that’s their luck —
For beasts who spread their poison muck.
They cut expenses to the bone —
Executioners, metal zones.
We’ll spin three crates of blatant lies...
If crates run short, no compromise.
It’s not like concrete — solid, tight —
From garbage heaps will burst a fight:
The media dumps forty megatons
Of falsehoods — “Our brave soldier runs!”
Now evil’s mouthpiece, loud and grim,
Is hope and fortress for the sin.
It drives the Mind and Spirit out
From submissive fools, lost in doubt.
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Foul minds are their first command—
Lies pour out, a deadly brand.
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Trash
Stupid faces multiply everywhere,
Spreading fear, betrayal, shame, despair.
They crush the last of reason’s spark —
The trash of Earth, a world so dark.
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To Account!
To bear one hundredth part
Of all this shame — a stain on heart!
To craft one hundredth share
Of all this vile, deceitful snare —
Deserves but death’s unyielding hand,
For treasons vile, unhuman stand.
The prologue’s clear — we watch it rise:
The beasts will answer, no disguise.
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One hundredth of this vile sin —
Deserves death’s verdict, sharp and thin.
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Anger
A cauldron boils of dark desires,
In hellish flames, the mind expires.
The Spirit’s trapped among the bones,
Worn flesh its cold, forsaken throne.
So rare a guest, it fades to dust —
All seems in vain, but still—there’s lust:
Anger left as last defense,
A bitter shield, no recompense.
Be fierce — keep weak and swine away,
From hell’s grip strive to break away.
Reach out to Light — it lives inside —
No other truth: don’t run, don’t hide.
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Burn with rage, but guard your soul —
Push the swine, reclaim control.
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Filth of Lies
Trust betrayed beyond the brink —
Total lies make darkness sink!
So the forecast’s grim and stark —
All will drown in filth and dark.
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The “Science” of Deceitful Beasts
Beasts adore their “science” talk,
Euphemisms that slyly stalk,
Latin words to blind and bind,
Enemas for the human mind.
An enema — a false pretense,
Torturing Spirit’s innocence,
Trampling reason, truth betrayed,
Slaughtered by the lies they’ve made.
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Their “science” reeks of lies and pain,
Mind’s enema, a poisoned drain.
---------------------
“Napoleon? No, It’s Me!”
A mission? Firm’s messiah, you say?
Ego’s gone wild — clinical dismay.
Marketing sharks, PR’s sharp knights —
Napoleons of sales and fights!
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Employers, Consumers, and the Rest
...-ers and -brethren,
Only SEEKERS count,
All else is fading dust.
Brethren—gluttons,
Souls defiled and crushed
By food and blind submission.
False givers,
With free cheese gifts,
Enslave all who feed their lust.
A world drowned in foolishness—
Decay and endless rust.
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False givers feed the herd,
Cheap cheese traps every bird.
Only seekers hold the key —
All else rots in misery.
---------------------
Slime
Permissions to live—
Licenses, papers, all contrived.
This world’s ruled by slime,
Greedy for our very life’s drive.
They ban all that they can,
Then sell a paper—“control,” they plan.
A feeble grip that fails to heal,
Real harm ignored—the CowID ordeal.
The herd’s fed poison, vile and slick,
Shame dies in officials—only bribes stick.
Beasts now rule, the lords of scorn,
The world sickened by their brazen scorn.
Permissions to live—
Means life itself’s a lie.
For everywhere lies and slime
Are sources where all horrors lie.
---------------------
Slime rules life with poison lies—
Paper chains, control’s disguise.
Bribed beasts breed decay and dread—
Truth is dead, the herd is led.
---------------------
Constant Madness of the Mind
The Rubik’s Cube of heads
Spins wildly on all sides,
So fools won’t find their peace —
No rest to seek or hide.
Tugging, pulling everywhere—
The mind’s roof blows away.
They need a traitor’s sneer,
A filthy fool’s display.
Trash will flood the whole “house” —
This global madhouse grim,
In artificial haze,
The goal: reduce us dim.
Through nonsense, they succeed—
Few minds remain alive,
And even fewer keep
The Flame of Souls to thrive.
---------------------
Brains twisted like a Rubik’s Cube,
Fools kept spinning—no escape, no truce.
Trash and traitors flood the global hive,
Soul’s flame dying, barely alive.
---------------------
The Curtain
A curtain’s fallen — thick and low,
The game of ostriches laid bare.
This wretched world has turned to hell,
A lair of fiends beyond repair.
Beneath the veil, the ***** show—
Heads buried deep in desert sand.
They’ve gone feral, lost all shame—
Satan rules this cursed land.
Feathers plucked, their pride destroyed,
Heads stuck deep, no truth to find.
Bowing falsehood, faith betrayed,
To light they turn their fear and bind.
Light’s unseen if viewed by ***—
A chasm wide from truth and grace.
To suffer fiends who breed such spite
Is doom for all the human race.
---------------------
Curtain falls — no light, just shame,
***** buried, heads to blame.
Satan rules the wild decay,
Fiends feast while souls give way.
Look with *** — you see no sun,
End is near if evil’s won.
---------------------
******* hide, heads in sand,
Ruled by fiends, a cursed land.
Satan’s throne, their shame’s embrace —
Humanity’s disgrace.
Look with *** — you’re blind and lost,
Evil’s toll is total cost.
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The Endless Game of Echoes
Play the game of echoes — try,
If your partner’s dumb and sly.
If that fool’s also proud and mean —
You’ll be drained before you’ve seen.
Shun the fools and all the fools,
Shun the knaves and rotten tools,
Or you’ll turn to filthy ash,
Wake from sleep — break free, don’t crash.
Fools abound — the numbers grow,
Solitude’s the shield you know,
To stay whole and not become
Trash with them — the sorting’s done.
Here they cull the foolish throng,
Fascism’s grip is harsh and strong,
Where their strength turns dark and grim —
Only madmen play that hymn.
Echoing insults, they fight,
Wounding Spirit, dimming light,
Killing Soul in evil’s clutch,
Servants of the weak and such.
---------------------
Fatigue and Death
Fury, weariness, despair —
A scourge that strikes the stagnant air.
Rot and stench spread far and wide,
Fascism’s war-cry, raw and plied.
Everywhere, fools crowd the land,
Few the wise who still can stand.
Drained of strength, no will to fight —
Why protect yourself from blight?
Honor, shame are locked away,
Treachery’s the daily play.
In this filth and putrid reek,
Brains like flies fall weak and meek.
Where conscience fades, a relic lost,
Sensitivity’s the cost,
In this hell beneath the rule,
Leaving early’s fortune’s jewel.
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Mental Overstrain
Fatigue’s no trivial thing —
You’ll lose what matters most,
Though only dullness clings,
Apathy’s quiet ghost.
It seems not so severe,
But weariness will grow,
And suddenly, it’s clear —
Your light begins to slow.
Then comes the darkened drift,
Your will begins to break,
Lies, fears, the nagging rift —
A painful, sharp heartbreak.
Yet pain, in its own way,
Thanks for the warning sign —
It wakes your mind today,
Or you’ll fade out like a shrine —
A ghost drained of all power,
Lost deep in shadow’s bower.
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"Adaptations" — Profanations
They twist and spoil it all,
Distort the core and soul.
In wretched fights where lies prevail,
Truth’s crumbs drown in the stale.
Fools and fiends of every kind
Turn meaning blind and blind.
Half-truths mix with lies to bind —
No vision left to find.
---------------------
Stupid Zoo
The cops have gone feral, wild,
Doctors sold their minds, defiled.
Books they poison, pages spun,
Feeding kids till thought is done.
The world drowns deep in lies,
Screens spew nonsense, truth just dies.
All officials bought and sold,
Fake “scientists” lost control.
But that’s no longer the main fight —
Genocide, fascism’s blight.
And in this slaughter, who will shield
The Reason’s flame, the truths revealed?
Only Fire can cleanse the stains,
Break the cursed cycle’s chains.
It’s happened once, will come again,
While Spirit’s trapped in Hell’s domain,
While drowning in the fearful fraud,
In this Stupid Zoo of God.
---------------------
Against the Grain
Everything’s set against your way—
Maybe you’re more right each day:
Obstacles that block your path
Mark the truth beneath the wrath.
Going against the grain, you’ll shed
That old fur that drags you dead.
When comfort lives in pain and strife,
That comfort’s death—end of your life.
---------------------
Mad Rashism
“Liberators” blew the dam—
In Kahovka, chaos ran.
Down below the Dnipro’s line,
Foul beasts fell—a twisted sign.
Their howl’s a dumb and senseless scream,
Propaganda’s sickest scheme.
Dostoevsky? Just soulless lies!
Fascists herd their slaves and spies!
---------------------
******* of a Phantom Chance
Chance! Chance!! Chance!!!
They **** to that trance...
World’s decay, a bleak advance —
People dumb, mute, in a trance.
So the chance is just a ghost,
Forward—beasts scream “Attack!” the most.
Fools march to pointless fight,
To “healing” death in blinding light.
Chasing chance inside the void,
All drowned in darkness, all destroyed.
Hamsters spinning wheels so fast —
Your chances? Dead, they’re in the past!
---------------------
Phantom Chance *******
Chance! Chance!! Chance!!!
They’re jerking off to nonsense, man...
World’s a cesspit, full decay —
Dumb, deaf, blind, the sheeple sway.
Chance? A ghost, a cruel lie.
“Attack!” beasts howl, and fools comply.
They march to pointless, toxic pain,
Where poison kills and hope’s in vain.
Chasing chances in their hole,
All drowned in dark, no saving soul.
Hamsters trapped on endless wheels —
Your “chance” is dead. That’s how it feels.
---------------------
Phantom Chance — a twisted lie,
They ******* while the world will die.
Beasts scream “Attack!” — the fools obey,
Your hope’s a ghost that fades away.
---------------------
Chance? A ghost they ******* —
While world decays, they seal their fate.
Beasts roar orders, sheep comply —
Your hope’s just poison, doomed to die.
---------------------
Thought Diverter
A lightning rod for interests, hobbies,
False spirits, all that ****** stuff —
A Thought Diverter traps dumb zombies
In nonsense thick and ever rough.
They’re too lazy just to think,
So we digest and "adapt" the core,
Twisting truth until it sinks —
Their idol’s need, their only law.
---------------------
Thought Diverter
A lightning rod for fake pursuits,
For phony faith and all their trash —
A Thought Diverter drags recruits,
Dumb zombies stuck in lies that thrash.
Too lazy even just to think,
We chew and twist their empty soul,
Expelling truth, corrupting ink —
Their only god: the grind and toll.
---------------------
Nonsense and Carcass
World’s lefties’ day arrives,
And pointless labor’s praise —
Drive nonsense from our lives!
The herds still graze and laze.
They feast on lies and trash,
Content with shallow noise,
Unaware their funeral crash
Is hymn of useless toil.
---------------------
Slaves’ Hatred for Their “Neighbors”
Slaves hate freedom’s smallest spark,
When close at hand — those fiends foresee
The reckoning that comes so dark,
The Soul’s last toll — if it will be.
That slave’s order is absurd —
Dull fools believe they’ll still be fed.
But creatures have a darker word:
They’ll grind them down — hate’s wasted thread.
---------------------
Slave Hate’s a Fool’s Trap
Slaves despise the taste of free,
But payback’s near — just wait and see.
They’ll crush the weak, erase the trace,
Your hate’s a lie, a lost disgrace.
---------------------
The Bottom
Rashism — that’s the bottom.
Is that what you sought?
Around is all rotten,
Trapped in this squalor caught.
How did we sink so low?
Fear’s the root, the cause.
The end’s fire will glow —
All beasts burn without pause.
---------------------
Madness of Computer Games
For a “griffon” I’ll surrender,
For a “shield” I’ll **** with pride.
Never will I lose or render,
Family left far behind.
If it takes—this madness sweeter
Than the sweetest candy’s taste.
So we’ll hit the lowest meter,
Final chapter’s bitter waste.
When the whole virtual land
Leads us to the digital camp,
Where “new normal” rules the stand—
Idiot’s the stamp and stamp.
---------------------
Batteries
Games, no-nets, and mobiles,
All those endless time-thieves —
Run on batteries, feeding
Warmth of souls that grieve.
Like watering cans, they pour
That warmth down Evil’s drain.
Real charge? Face-to-face — for sure.
Drop that dull habit’s chain!
They **** us one by one,
Silent signals gone astray.
Fools don’t know what’s done —
Turning wholly into nothing gray.
---------------------
Batteries
Games, phones, all those time-licks —
Running dry on dead-*** tricks.
Soul’s warm juice? Flushed down the drain,
Feeding Evil’s filthy reign.
Real charge comes face-to-face,
Not through screens that numb and waste.
Ditch the dumb, robotic fuss —
They **** us all, one by one, thus.
Fools don’t grasp the silent theft:
Turned to nothing — spirit left.
---------------------
Putinoids
Putinoid — a dumb fool’s breed,
Not just dumb, but pure disease.
Like Chikatilo’s cruel creed,
Or Mengele’s mad expertise.
Ruled by Kremlin’s twisted fiend,
Betrayal killed his mind and soul.
Since his youth, no thoughts convened —
Propaganda’s poisoned toll.
How long can such filth survive,
Feeding lies that sickly spread?
Hardly long — they’ll pay the price
For fascist horrors, tears, and dread.
---------------------
A Different Collective Vision
A different way of seeing —
The Path’s good goal in sight.
What now means disbelieving —
One answer: walk the fight.
That goal’s a hard ascension,
Alone, few reach its height.
No crowds, no great convention —
Just silence, almost white.
All this seems far, ungrasped —
So Death soon spreads its breath:
A world of lies collapsed —
Wipe all away — erase death.
Fascism and falsehood here —
Is that what folks had planned?
If so, the song’s all done —
Pour one last drink, my friend.
---------------------
Election Farce
Counting the useless, the fake —
A sham election, just a joke.
Through these womb-born fiends, the plague
Of fascism's vile choke.
Those beasts, with their approving nods,
Cast shadows of false legit.
For craven, sold-out worthless clods,
They grant a rotten writ.
They’re clueless — wasted all their chance,
Drank away what brains remained.
From those with heart and true stance,
Stole freedom — bound and chained.
---------------------
Election Farce — The Beast’s Game
Counting fools, a sham parade,
False elections, rotten trade.
Womb-spawned monsters fuel the flame,
Fascism’s filth — the Beast’s name.
With their nods, they give a mask,
Legitimacy’s dead task.
Filthy traitors, sold-out ****,
Feed the poison, beat the drum.
Brains all drained, they lost the fight,
Drunk on lies, lost all their light.
From the pure and true they steal
Every chance to break the seal.
---------------------
Election Farce — The Beast’s ****
Counting dead, dumb zombies crawl,
Fake elections, circus brawl.
Womb-born filth spreads fascist stain,
Fascism’s **** — the Beast’s domain.
With their nods, they fake the law,
Give the slime a cloak to draw.
Trash and traitors, puking lies,
Feed the poison, burn the skies.
Brains all wasted, sold, and spent,
Drunk on hate, all judgment bent.
From the pure, they steal the light,
Snuffing hope, chaining tight.
---------------------
Election Farce
Counting corpses, dumb and blind,
Fake votes breed the fascist kind.
Filth gives lies a mask to wear —
Brains sold out, no hope, despair.
---------------------
Rashists
At checkpoints let the car pass through—
Kids inside, then shoot them too.
Such vile beasts claim to “free” the land,
Ukraine’s fate crushed by their hand.
Spawned from Rashism’s darkest grime,
Fascists echo ******’s time.
But this monster, soulless, grim,
Is worse than all the fiends of him.
---------------------
Traitors and the Media
Pseudo-presidents impotent,
They rule this stale, foul cesspool.
Just the filth of lies ferment—
Propaganda makes the fool.
Through the media, they brazenly reign,
Vile monsters, **** and grime.
Dumb masses drowned in their domain,
Sneaky traitors in their crime.
With “orders from above” they steer,
Propaganda's brutal whip.
They won't leave fools in peace, I fear—
The beast commands: “Attack, don’t slip!”
---------------------
Traitors and the Media
Impotent pseudo-leaders rule this stinking pit—
Nothing but ****, propaganda’*****.
Brazen fiends pull strings behind the screen,
Swarming fools drown in their obscene machine.
Traitors sneak, they crawl and scheme,
Slaves to lies, obeying the regime.
“From above” the orders drop like knives,
Propaganda’s lash kills freeborn lives.
No rest for fools, no mercy shown—
The beast commands: “Strike hard, strike bone!”
Rot and venom in every breath,
Traitors and media dance with death.
---------------------
All Is Lost!!!
Mayors dull —
“Peers” push the pull,
Serving Evil’s twisted goal.
Pseudo-presidents, goat-like fools,
Lead the sheep to fight the fight.
******* fascism wins the day
With howls of hate that never sway—
Propaganda, wild and vile,
Would make Goebbels cringe a while.
Those attacks so sharp and fierce,
Loaded lies like bombs that pierce—
Hiroshima’s just a sneeze.
All is lost! All’s disease!
Three-quarters mad — this world’s a joke,
In psychosis deep we choke.
---------------------
The Only Mask
The world’s a masquerade,
One mask worn tight—
Its name is Fear,
Worth not a mite.
If it should cling,
A grafted shell,
Then you’re a ****,
Your life—pure hell.
