Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight

Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape

Summer again

I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening

For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….

She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…

     The queen will be safe here
     from the rabble
     The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
     Among these lofty cliffs
     Between the raging circuit of the tide
     Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
     Here lovers learn
     the debt of love’s bad timing
     “Drink ye all of it!”
     --the potion that assigns our sorrow….
     She will not sleep—
     while I chew this gum--  GUM?

Roll down the window!

Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings

As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity

…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly  
Their hands steady the wheel

Strolling along
By the teeming docks,
I watch the ships put out.
Black ships that heave and lunge
And move like mastodons
Arising from lethargic sleep.

The fathomed harbor
Calls them not nor dares
Them to a strain of action,
But outward, on and outward,
Sounding low-reverberating calls,
Shaggy in the half-lit distance,
They pass the pointed headland,
View the wide, far-lifting wilderness
And leap with cumulative speed
To test the challenge of the sea.

Plunging,
Doggedly onward plunging,
Into salt and mist and foam and sun.

We’d known him, back in the day
At dear old Millard Fillmore Elementary,
As Three-Desks Tommy, highly imaginative monicker
Deriving from his decidedly unimaginative first name
And the fact that he, indeed, had three desks,
Each of them stuffed chock-full
With uncounted numbers of pencils and erasers,
Any number of homework papers
(Usually A’s and A-pluses,
Though there were the odd B’s and B-minuses as well,
As he was a bright, in fact inordinately bright, child,
But sometimes given to sloppiness and stray pencil marks
And a predilection for not reading the directions completely)
Eerily accurate renditions of dinosaurs,
Wildly inventive stories featuring rainbow-hued dragons,
Noble and voluble talking bovines,
And knights and knaves of every size, shape, and suzerain,
Stories which resided cheek-to-jowl with some bit of uneaten sandwich
Until such time it made its existence
Abundantly clear to the custodial staff.
We’d never stopped to think much about his miniature Maginot Line;
It was what Tommy did and had always done
For as long as we could remember,
Though there were some teachers and an assistant principal or two
Who thought the whole thing was permissive bordering on coddling
(His teacher was a veteran of the wars, and well-insulated by tenure,
But she had grown weary of over-glasses glares and snide asides
When Tommy’s name came up in the staff room,
A death by a thousand cuts and all that),
And one day, while moving one of his desks
To clear space for Simon Says,
It had caught on a sticky spot,
Overturning onto a soon-to-be-fractured toe.
When he came back to school, accompanied by an ungainly cast
And an equally ungainly pair of crutches, his teacher took him aside.
Tommy, she purred, Maybe someone is trying to tell you something.
The other kids all make due with one desk,
And I’m sure you can find a way to as well, don’t you, Tommy?
So Tommy embarked on a great cleansing of his little fiefdom,
Filling several garbage cans with his collected works,
(Math papers and mastodons, bologna and Brobdingnagians)
And afterward he’d kept himself to one standard desk,
Duly filing, returning, and circular-filing his paperwork
As the occasion demanded
(Though one time Murph Dunkirk
Asked Three-Desks if he minded downsizing;
Tommy just shrugged, and said Well, it’s better than a broken foot)
And maybe in his dreams he had a thousand desks,
A thousand tops to fling open,
A thousand repositories for light and legend
Or perhaps he never gave it so much as a second thought,
No way to know now, one supposes,
Though if anything out of the ordinary had come his way,
We would’ve probably heard.

Around the pool of chandelier light the movers and shakers gathered
in tight knots, unwilling to untangle from the policy books
intent on pushing fences further out into the Caspian Sea
across the Black Sea and encircling the whole Artic Circle
from latitude whatever to wherever.

The chief fence maker arrived with a pair of pliers
and rolls of barbed wire twenty thousand posts
and a battalion of unnamed soldiers all hiding
behind masks of make-up

" Now listen, people, roll out that spikey wire starting from here
to eternity and keep going around the globe until you return
five hundred years to meet the beginning with the end!"

A few bald heads bowed but wary of  cross-hairs
hiding along the ceiling behind sharpshooting
shapeshifters.
They knew instinctively, that unbowed head may be bowled
over and transported to Siberia in a meat wagon
for permanent freezing with the mastodons.

"Go Now, do not turn back, ever, or you will become
a pillar of salt."
The band played The Last Post
as the last post rolled out.

Peace began as soon as the war ended
and the fences were built around the entire
Northern Hemisphere.

Around the pool of chandelier light the movers and shakers gathered
in tight knots, unwilling to untangle from the policy books
intent on pushing fences further out into the Caspian Sea
across the Black Sea and encircling the whole Artic Circle
from latitude whatever to wherever.

The chief fence maker arrived with a pair of pliers
and rolls of barbed wire twenty thousand posts
and a battalion of unnamed soldiers all hiding
behind masks of make-up

" Now listen, people, roll out that spikey wire starting from here
to eternity and keep going around the globe until you return
five hundred years to meet the beginning with the end!"

A few bald heads bowed but wary of  cross-hairs
hiding along the ceiling behind sharpshooting
shapeshifters.
They knew instinctively, that unbowed head may be bowled
over and transported to Siberia in a meat wagon
for permanent freezing with the mastodons.

"Go Now, do not turn back, ever, or you will become
a pillar of salt."
The band played The Last Post
as the last post rolled out.

Peace began as soon as the war ended
and the fences were built around the entire
Northern Hemisphere.  

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

When meteors on dinosaurs
Fall crashing like the Temple of Dagon
And signals beam from ****** Mars
And mastodons make war on dragons

We little ones must run and hide
In rocky cleft and burrowed cave
While monsters in their wars decide
Just whom to **** and whom to save

When dragons make war on mastodons
Let’s disappear like leprechauns

Maybe.

Or not.

all a'swoon in the peptides of our ivory
like mastodons marching delicate
or mountains of mayhem as a virtue.
an undesigned design
etched into the sphere of heaven
at the base of your skull
where the jewels to be found there
yammer the light fantastic
like sheets of chrome foam
through a funnel made of mint mist
and delusions of -
candor.

we mark the cave with our cellphone ping
and reap the things in the dark
that could brighten any room.
we have a knack for the impossible
but seldom sell glass beads to mermaids
we live in the kingdom of bent.
so therefore, the fork in the road is inevitable
and your utter lack of choice
a most universal thing.

songs will be sung about how we lived -
on the head of a pin... mending the fabric
of our isolation, and stitching the seams
of our bold stripes... where the whip cracked
and seared it's angry tongue across the back
of our forward thinking.
too engrossed are we, in the journey itself
to ever regain conscience.
we boil at room temperature. and we buy things -
that eat souls,
and have no word for snow -
that can also mean " cherry blossoms commit suicide"
and we sleep in the barn.

where haystacks bed down with stars
and you can still pick a lock
with a paper clip.
where all applause from the void-
visit like rain, all thunderous and good China
tilting on a blade of hope
in the very wheat fields of our daily bread
in the meadows of our irony.
where we salt the earth and continue to crop stones
in the spirit of our palace
wrought from years in exile
stacked to the roof of God's Mouth.
so He stutters your name
as clear as a bell.

and we shan't be consumed by surprise.

we will beguile.

mastodons roaming
birds tweeting
discordant
kings
in a coinbase
fixing the 22nd century
for feudalism
meta minded
immoral
and then there's the real problems

Hush-hush,
a sentience moves the toy
into a mile long corner
where a door greets the jamb

Sulk,
ignore a pointed finger
weigh down exploration of the boy
this theatre will frown

Secrecy,
you knew it all stood still
before that door stood you up
from feeding your mastodons will

The battleground is macabre with apologetic hypotheticals
Expectation ameliorates grandiose pontification
Prodded mastodons intimidate perplexed chaffers
Proselytization is overarching in prominence
Advantageous reunion is decimated in the promise of levity
Form fitting pylons are erected in the esteem of temporal obfuscation
Taxation is promulgated upon the awareness of scapegoats
A noble pursuit in fruitless reiteration of collapsing bereft ecclesiastic brethren
Spontaneous extemporaneous interim regards effectively rescind upon obstinance
Layman’s rue; a callback to insinuation of separation, wherein all exists in vain
Thereupon the heights of all, those who live above it call for new fruition
Shattered showers of light, as the sky falls and extant darkness envelops

Suppositional wealth exposes the incomparable gap between dire and the unity of ages
All is wrought and guiled from nought but evanescent rot of in between
Die in darkness, or forget that life beckons your actions to be meant in making
Fade, and become what is unbecoming

Movement is learnt
Moving is done and dusted

Bambinos crawl out of the static size
Falls don't stop who moves, but tries who sits
Toddles don't have balance to catch stable pace

Strides reveal the latitude of feline creatures
Lumber perpetuates the weight of herbivorous carnivore possessed with shaggy hair

Gallops don't need a brainstorm to smell the buzz
Running on the spot in pollens of hibiscus grains

Steps choreograph the trudge of mastodons
Trots of poltergeists evade brace of zeitgeist
Linking the pounce to the swoop of avian blacks

The Rapid Fall of Rashism

The vile ones strike Kharkiv again —
Hit the dorms, the towers, the heat.
The RuZZian swarm is drunk on disdain,
But doom crawls in on stealthy feet.

That Pootin, the dwarf full of lies,
With his doubles and rotten parade,
Sent a horde off to slaughter — surprise! —
Just more widows for mass cannonade.

Fools will rot in the soil they defile —
There’s no glory, no righteous fate.
“Poor conscripts,” some say with a sigh...
No! They’re traitors who marched with hate.

Their own land's been crushed by a boot,
By fascists in power — it bleeds!
They should fight for their roots and their truth —
Not commit filthy war crimes and deeds.

The vile ones strike Kharkiv again.
Where are “Nazis”? In power plants, right?!
Let the battlefield settle the claim —
Rashism will drown in the light.



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




They bomb the weak — and boast with pride.
But Death’s already on their side.
Rashism’s hour ticks away —
And Hell prepares a grand buffet.



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



Fascism

A fascist regime —
A monkey’s *******.
The **** rages loud —
Where Reason is cowed.
No lower to fall —
It’s Hell’s very maw.
The idiots reign,
Their nature — pure pain.
And evil’s parade
Becomes the “new grade.”

Is that what you sought?
You waited for what?!
Kept silent, half-dead,
Let lies rot your head.
Your soul’s in your heel,
You forgot how to feel.
The liars, the beasts —
Their falsehoods don’t cease.
To be honest? A fight.
To be wise? Full of fright.
To stare at this plague
Demands nerve, not vague.
But truth has its cost —
Responses get lost,
Or sneak 'neath the skin —
Corruption within.

Then search for a door —
From Hell’s filthy core.
For mind's decomposition
Leads straight to perdition:
To beasts, to submission.



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




When reason is slain and the liars rejoice —
The beast is unleashed, and silence — your choice.
Want out of this hell? Then sharpen your voice.
Or rot with the herd, without will, without voice.



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



Execution

Collective Pootin — the plague,
Cops and doctors turned thugs.
All this filth — the whole brigade —
Drives one mad with rage and shrugs.

But this “people”? They’re not brave —
Just submissive, beaten down.
Those who rise are sent to graves,
While brute force still wears the crown.

Only loss upon the field
Can restore a shred of grace.
Till then, in decay they yield —
Rotting in a sunless place.

Can’t endure this filth and fear —
Pootin, cops, their soulless games.
This is not a life — it’s clear:
EXECUTION cloaked in names,
Turning humans into swine,
Step by step — by grand design.



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




It's not a life — it's slow damnation,
A beast parade, a fake "nation".
To rise, they need a war’s defeat —
Or rot beneath Pootin’s deceit.



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




The Kremlin ****

The Kremlin **** — so vile, so loud —
Mocks the beaten, broken crowd.
Filth on high, and down below —
Half the land’s a madman show.

First — the fake disease parade,
Then — the war, its next charade.
Now the country hits the floor —
Rot, collapse, and nothing more.

It’s them — the **** — or those who bleed.
There’s no third path, no noble creed.
If you bow and call it “fate,” —
You're helping monsters seal the state.



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




The **** still rules, the herd still crawls —
Through lies and war their empire sprawls.
No hope remains while cowards kneel —
Just rot and chains, and “make it real.”



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



Censorship

The "free world" sinks in censorship —
Like filth within a clogged-up drain.
Thick fascist skin — can't take a slip,
Even thought now brings them pain.

A war is raging in the mind,
But Reason’s last stronghold has died.
They dumb us down, they’ve redefined
What’s “sacred” — hollow faith and lies.

Fake virtue floods the public square,
While chains grow tighter on the soul.
True knowledge? Banned. No one dares care —
Just junk that sweetens mind control.

No filter for the mindless trash,
But truth gets gagged without regret.
No art remains — just plastic flash,
And sugar-coated brain-debt.

So seek the answers all alone —
Let sharpness be your inner guide.
This world’s a swamp of fear and drone,
Where chaos rots the soul inside.



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




They ban the truth, but feed you lies —
Sweet poison dressed in moral guise.
So think — or rot beneath the weight
Of fear, control, and fake debate.



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



The Sacred Glue

Obedience — the sacred glue.
All else is mocked, dismissed as fake:
Like honor, truth — outdated too,
In this dumb world the tyrants make.

Their “sacred realm” is off the chart —
A madhouse for the brain-dead mass.
The stench of lies infects the heart,
It’s piled so deep you cannot pass.

No way to climb out from the dump —
Just rot beneath the filth and fog…
Or get detained by beasts who hunt —
The cops, the jailers, savage dogs.

They drag you off to war or cell
If you resist their sacred chain.
The “glue” is just a prison shell
For dimwits who embrace the pain.

To think is now a deadly sin
Inside this world of chains and screams.
Their “glue” — no meaning lies within.
It’s Hell for fools who live on dreams.



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




“Sacred glue” of state? Obey —
Or cops will drag your soul away.
No truth, no honor — just decay,
And herds of fools who call it “way.”



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



FuckYandex and Googlecrap

FuckYandex, Googlecrap — for the fascist crimes
They must be tried with the Putler slime.
Censorship’s rule is far worse than ******:
With poisoned minds, it's easy to **** ’em.

Their bot-boys will “rate” every line you write,
Scan every comment — or bug it at night.
It’s torture by silence, by bans, by distortion —
LIES! now rule Earth like a sick *******.

That’s why FuckYandex and all their spawn,
From lowliest clerk to the top-level pawn,
Are complicit in war — in all that’s been done.
They sell us fake words — and Truth? There is none.

The price they demand? Your freedom, your mind.
Your soul in a cage they gladly will bind.
FuckYandex’s pit — the higher you climb,
The more you shovel: war, plagues, and crime.

For the top — a bullet. For the rest — a cell.
And they all helped build this digital hell.



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




Censorship kills — it sharpens the knife.
Google and Yandex? Co-authors of strife.
They traded the truth for profit and pride —
So jail every bot and let justice decide.



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



The Maestro

A piston ride from Hell to Hell —
This engine roars, it never sleeps.
The longer in it you dwell —
The deeper into filth it seeps.

"Progress"? Just a blot and stain.
No Reason left — just tricks and flair.
Putler's bluff sets the refrain,
A double, too — his hollow stare...

Like mastodons, once strong, extinct,
Truth's bones lie buried in the grime.
Now size means lies, not what you think —
And truth is punished as a crime.

Today’s “maestro”? Brazen fraud —
With horns that grow, if not in flesh.
He lies with confidence, not awe —
And that’s the mark of modern “best.”



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




The modern “great” is proud to bluff,
His lies are bold, his tone is tough.
From Hell to Hell we ride this path —
Where truth is lost, and gods just laugh.



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



Kinda Hell

A screen-made diva —
Then came the “fever.”
Next — monsters rise,
Sharp-tongued with lies.

The diva’s now gone,
Just fake going on.
Fake states, fake names —
And fascist games.

They’ll fake a famine,
Bring frost and cannon.
A lovely war
To lie some more.

Goodwill’s erased,
The world’s disgraced.
Bye, diva, fake spell —
Now welcome to Kinda Hell.



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




Fake queens and fear — then war and fire.
They sell us doom, dressed in desire.
The mask is off, the lies all fell —
What’s left is ****. And kinda Hell.



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



Sociopaths and Degenerates

A hyper-charged
sociopath —
Crawled from the dark
with twisted wrath.

The ****** freak,
the heartless brute —
They run the world,
while the mute,
the dumbed-down herd,
serve on their plate —
A feast of fools
the beasts call fate.

And what’s a feast?
It means: devour.
Degenerates?
They bloom each hour.
The table’s set — the ghouls don’t rest,
There’s endless meat
for endless pests.



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




The freaks now rule, the weak obey —
They feed the beasts and fade away.
A world devoured by soulless rats —
Run by psychos and sociopaths.



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



Arrival and Struggle

Dragging “forward,”
“Hoping for best.”
Arrival — chaos,
No place to rest.

Surrounded tight
From every side.
Like wolves? No — the dog’s
Decay inside.



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




Crawling ahead with hope so thin,
But chaos waits where we begin.
Surrounded, torn — no peace, no throne —
Decay’s the dog, and we’re alone.



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



The Idiots


Idiots,
Existence —
They’ve ****** it all away.
“My own life” —
Nothing but decay,
Dirt, fear, forgetful sway.
And harvest —
Food to prey —
Almost gone... Oh, ****, the fray.



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




Idiots lost what life could be,
Just rot, fear, and obscurity.
The harvest eaten, none remains —
Their world dissolves in filth and chains.



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



Dyrkin

Girkin —
Holes —
Wants to patch them with meat.
Doesn’t care —
**** more to repeat.
To hell with the cost,
The whole Kremlin will hang at the last post.



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




Patch holes with blood, he calls the shots,
Killing more — ignoring costs.
But in the end, the traitors’ fate —
The noose awaits at freedom’s gate.



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



Search Cage — Googlecrap, FuckYandex, and the Rest

Censorship and propaganda —
Nothing more than “search engine” drama.
A startup gang, a worm inside,
That spreads and digs where truths must hide.

It generalizes simple things,
Creates illusions, false beginnings.
Pretends there’s search — but lets decay
All that triggers get swept away.

A “trigger” flags the banned, the banned,
Hides problems, silences the stand.
Excludes, deletes, or sinks it deep —
So no forbidden thought can creep.

“Economic cattle” — prime example.
Research galore, but too much sample
Is banned for old-school pioneers —
Too vile, too harsh for their ears.

So all your queries get reduced
To freak shows in this twisted noose.
Only safe answers come around —
Fed by fools who ask unsound.



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




They censor truth and bury thought,
Their “search” a trap, with lies well wrought.
Ask wrong, you’re lost inside their cage —
A grotesque, rigged digital stage.



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



The Steamroller

Across the land, a steamroller rides —
A beast that crushes all it finds.
Submission’s crown, the ****’s success,
Where fools and liars rule the mess.

They press with fear, with greed, with lies,
A darkness thick as endless skies.
All turns to dust beneath their reign,
The ******* grow more bold again.

A darkness built of traitors’ breath,
Fascism’s shadow, death by death.
Forgetfulness and hopeless cries —
Satan’s hand that rules and lies.

It rots and twists both flesh and bone —
But break the gears, and shake the throne.
The Earth will tremble, blaze the night,
The sun will scorch fascist blight.

With slavery’s chains destroyed at last,
The masters fall — their era passed.
No more to turn the free to beasts —
No more to feed the slaves’ cruel feast.



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




The steamroller crushes lies and fear,
But break its gears — the end is near.
The sun will burn fascist flame —
And free the world from tyrant’s shame.



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



Fascism Cubed

There was the sheep virus,
Now war’s on stage.
Reason takes a hit,
Evil’s cubed in rage.

Souls are the price —
Why cube, you ask?
Hunger grows sharp,
As that oak grows cracked.

A slave-born breed,
Enduring all pain.
Like a flood that sweeps,
Evil breaks the chain.

There was the sheep virus,
Now war’s the game.
Brains are blown out —
Truth’s cheap, with no name.



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




Sheep once infected, now war’s the rule —
Reason crushed, evil’s triple fuel.
Slaves endure while darkness thrives —
The price is souls, the cost: our lives.



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



Fascist Cops

We sow no seeds, build no lands —
We serve as dogs for Kremlin bands.
Armed with fascist ranks and fear,
Cowards crawling, vile and queer.

They strike at students, old and frail —
“Cosmonauts” with brutal hail.
Monsters serving filthy power,
No care for curses in this hour.

Fascism crumbles, history shows —
The fallen reap what evil sows.
The ones who brought the world such pain
Are met with justice, clear and plain.

Punishment fits crimes so dark —
The ice beneath these **** will crack.
Retribution comes in time —
The end of tyranny’s cold crime.



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




Fascist dogs with coward’s bite,
Crushing youth and old alike.
History will make them pay —
Ice grows thin beneath their sway.



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



The Human Edge

There’s a limit to patience —
The edge of a man’s soul.
Cross it — corruption’s
The spirit’s cruel toll.

Decay of the mind
Will surely follow.
The soul’s final fall —
A hollowed shadow.

Satanic filth will rise
To stand before us.
Slave patience ends —
They’ll turn to beasts among us.



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




Patience breaks — corruption spreads,
Minds decay, and souls lie dead.
Satan’s filth will claim the day —
When slaves become the beasts’ prey.



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



...It Creepily Approached

Doom crept up soft and slow —
Critical thought erased,
Sticky fear began to grow,
Long submission traced.

A broken fool emerged —
Logic gone, soul shrunk tight.
Personality diverged,
Fading out of sight.

Decay goes on its way,
Till man dissolves in lies.
Resistance crushed to clay —
Gone, under darkened skies.

Soon slavish beasts appear,
Ready for anything grim.
Brainless creatures ruled by fear,
Lost in endless dim.

And obedient vermin herd
Are driven to the ****.
War and filth — the deadly word,
Burning all with will.



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




Doom sneaks in, thought fades to dust,
Man dissolves in lies and rust.
Slaves become the beast’s own prey —
Burned and lost along the way.



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



First Ones

“Someone’s gone off to a contest in Varna,
While I’m stuck just a block away.
‘Come on, girls!’ ‘Come on, boys!’
They all rush first — it’s madness at play!”
— Vladimir Vysotsky


“Come on, boys” — now locked in the doghouse —
Filthy cops and the prosecutor’s fangs.
“Come on, girls!” at the station's dark corners,
Selling bodies for Kremlin’s gang.

Today, the first is a thief of the worst kind,
Others just grime fit for slaughter’s hand.
A bucket of filth — you have to devour:
That’s fascist war’s vile command.

A few stand firm — the fighters alone.
They’re the last — all pushed down below!
More often they bathe in blood unknown,
While one stinking pile claims the show.



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




The first are thieves and ****** alike,
While few resist the creeping strike.
Blood stains the last who stand their ground —
As filth and lies keep spreading ‘round.



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



Disposal of Bio-Waste

Bio-waste disposer —
Now disputed honor stands
For the Armed Forces’ fight.
****’s forced to crawl from orcish lands.

A normal man won’t bomb or ****
Kids on highways as they ride.
Scoundrels all! They’ll pay the bill —
Justice soon will turn the tide.

A decent soul won’t shell the homes
Of neighbors, hospitals, or towers,
Driven mad by fascist drones,
And lies that poison peaceful hours.

All the fascist “iron tongues”
Spew their lies and sow the strife.
But the Forces will burn their **** —
In Bucha, fury’s come to life.



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




Bio-waste dragged to meet their fate,
**** who bomb and desecrate.
Lies may roar, but truth will rise —
Justice burns in angry eyes.



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



Cops, or The Whip and the Carrot

Twist the screws — everywhere, always —
To please the masters’ cruel game.
Keep the people bound in haze,
The whip’s for those who bear the shame.

But better still — the carrot’s sweet —
Cops get treats by their own code.
Not enough for all to eat —
Some must bear the heavy load.



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




The whip cracks down, the carrot’s given —
To keep the crowd subdued, driven.
Not all get sweets; some take the pain —
The cruel game goes on again.



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



Death to the Rot!

Propagandists to the wall —
The only way to break
The world’s dark prison hall,
This nightmare we must shake.

These fiends feed lies nonstop,
Bold lies that grow and spread.
To let the chaos drop —
Multiply their poison spread.

The sheep virus, plain and clear —
Just lies and lies again.
A mindless flock, gripped by fear,
Junk fills their brains like rain.

The world’s become a madhouse now:
Just howls, and howls, and howls.
Cunning liars take their bow —
Then lead us to the slaughter.

Propagandists to the wall,
Fascists all to the noose.
No mercy for their crawl —
Death to rot — the sole excuse!



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




To the wall, the liars go,
Their lies bred pain and woe.
Fascists fall beneath the rod —
Death to rot, the cleansing sword.



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



Putler and ******

Putler seeks to fulfill
******’s vile plan.
A weak twin — no skill —
What can come from such a man?

Gray ******* stand behind,
They’ll **** themselves in fear.
No jokes now — the time’s aligned —
To purge the fascist smear.

They’ll hunt them down, all ****,
And justice will be served.
But those faces, full of glum,
Lie, and lie, and swerve.

Only here has ******
Been truly surpassed.
But lies won’t save from final
Shots fired fast.

Delirium and chaos spread,
The people torn apart.
Super-lies have done their dread —
Freedom’s fire burns their heart.



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




Putler’s plan is ******’s clone,
A weakling ruling from a throne.
Lies won’t save the fascist breed —
Justice comes with final deed.



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



Super-Duper

Super-ego,
Super-g­reys,
Super-mice —
That’s the craze!
Mice are many,
Brave ones few,
Truth is softer
In Evil’s view.



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




Super-ego, super-grey,
Super-mice that fade away.
Truth is quiet, courage small —
In the world where evils call.



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



Putler’s Speeches

Mad speeches by the caudillo,
Compiled from ******, Goebbels’ scroll.
Kremlin’s roofs all spring a leak —
While sheep are duller than Teutonic folk.

History repeats as farce,
Madness wildly overflows.
The god of war once wore Mars’ scars —
Now Set rules, whose madness grows.



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




Putler rants in twisted play,
Echoes of dark **** ways.
Madness grows, the past returns —
As war’s dark flame still fiercely burns.



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



Let There Be Light?

"Let there be light!" said the old electrician,
And cut the wires with cold precision.
Common folk are just like trash,
In darkness herds keep moving fast.

And growing still this veil of night —
A rising tide of blind despite.
They’ll teach you only filth and lies:
Believe in Evil — then you die.

False religions cloak their sin,
Satan’s mask worn thin within.
False science plants its rotten trees,
Spreading cretinism with ease.

The “tree of knowledge” — all a lie,
Material hell where spirits die.
The fool cries, “Don’t touch my gain!
I gladly serve this twisted reign.”

To multiply “knowledge” when
The Pure Spirit’s wiped from ken —
Breeds only ignorance, and breeds
A flock of Satan’s cursed seeds.

Find your primal, sacred face,
Given before ignorance’s place.
And never yield, nor bow, nor fall —
Or else you lose your soul and all.



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



Nonsense Questions and False Answers

To sort it all on shelves,
To prune it all quite small —
What stops them? Scoundrels lie,
Deceiving one and all.

So-called simplification —
Is worse than theft outright.
Excluding Spirit’s essence —
Denies the core of light.

They crave one single truth —
A fool’s dull final score.
Evil’s many tasks —
Stupidity their core.

To **** the Spirit too —
Just another scheme:
Become a dung-fly’s slave —
Your own executioner’s dream.

If you believe their lies,
Submit to Evil’s call,
You open gates to Satan,
The Horned One’s dark hall.

Falsehood’s vast dominion —
A school for this they build.
Consciousness trampled down —
False answers all fulfilled.

No questions left to ask,
Yet answers stand prepared —
From verbal diarrhea
Comes damage undeclared.

This world, they say, depends
Not on us or our minds.
If brains have gone to mush,
Emotions are their binds.

Fumes and miasmas spread —
A global haze of lies.
All’s gone mad in this world —
Ill minds wear the disguise.

The whole world now’s a target,
Held hostage by deceit.
Step out of line — they’ll shoot —
Their aim cold, sharp, and fleet.

So “unchanging” postulates —
Are but a web of lies.
The sun, a raging force,
Destroys their dark disguise.

Darkness miscalculated —
Light grows beyond their law.
Burning every stump —
Their reign will meet its flaw.

Reason works, like Earth,
Clearing madness from the land.
Insane must leave this world —
Like lice at Earth’s command.

False “laws” built on lies —
This crooked, lying sphere,
For fools and loudmouths alike —
The end of lies is near.

The time of burning’s come —
Beyond deceitful schemes.
Spirit’s decay ends now —
And justice follows dreams.



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




Nonsense questions, false replies,
Lies that blind and truth that dies.
Light breaks through the darkest night —
Justice comes to end the blight.



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



Bread, Spectacles, and… Incantations

Here reign the INCANTATIONS,
The trigger for the dogs’ reactions.
“Attention!” — and straight in line,
All march dumb in dull decline.

Enough experience to see —
You’re trapped inside a hellish spree.
Like test rabbits, we’re all caught,
But rabbits sane, at least, have thought.

The madness vast, if summed and weighed,
Consciousness here’s a beastly shade.
Animal minds rule the day —
Nearly all lost their way.

Don’t listen, don’t respond,
Seek answers deep and far beyond.
Register thoughts, but stay composed —
No twitching saves you from exposed.

It saves your mind and your awareness,
Reactions keep you chained in madness.
Spirit tortured, trapped on hooks,
Escape is light, if you unhook.

Clear your Reason of the heaps
Of brazen lies — poisoned heaps.
The “school’s” aim is all too plain —
To dull the minds and dull the brain.

To sink the spark of the Creator,
Pollute the minds to feed the traitor.
But calling terror by its name
Is banned — they twist the terms and shame.

Where “civilization” howls, beware!
Sharp ears catch the counterfeit air.
Under masks of “good and right,”
Lies and evil cloak their blight.

These are the games they always play
In worlds of “wise” fools led astray,
Where fiends spew lies with cunning skill,
The base of “sound ideas” they ****.

So all “revolutions” fake,
“Reforms” just chains that bind and break.
Constitutions, empty cheer —
Distractions for a duller sphere.

That “bread” is poisoned, shows the state,
And “spectacles” for fools await.
Yet fools devour with eager greed —
Their lies send them to death’s stampede.

And at the core — the incantations,
The master of the fog’s creations.
Awareness minimal, so why
Do fiends hold power, rule, and lie?

Expand your consciousness each day,
Multiply your spirit’s ray.
Or else you’re just a sheep for slaughter,
Or vegetable — their twisted fodder.

Their poisoned crop won’t grace a show:
They’ll burn, trample, feed it low.
The harvest all is tainted, dead —
Consumed by vermin, lies instead.



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




Incantations start the flow,
Lies that chain the mind below.
Grow your spirit, break the cage —
Or fall to darkness, slave of rage.



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



Ceilings

The ceiling presses heavy on your head —
This burden’s always hanging near.
And people soft as molten lead —
That’s why the misery is here.

That ceiling — false “knowledge” forced inside,
Pushed hard into your mind’s dark stall.
Like lambs we march, no place to hide,
Just fodder for the mind’s grim call.

Fears and hatred, vile creations,
Breed darkness, artificial blight.
This world is drunk on lies’ temptations —
Propaganda leaves its blight.

That PRESS will push the ceiling down,
Fascism’s “law” will soon decree
That all will bend beneath the crown,
And poisoned books fill this lunacy.

Dumbing down and schizophrenic haze
Are raised to norms, the chosen way
To drag us to Hell’s stagnant maze.
Few humans left at end of day.

A new breed — servants, dull and bleak,
They’ve taken all the posts and roles.
But lies alone make power peak —
For beasts, we’re cattle, not souls.

This stupid herd is driven to slaughter —
And now it’s started, clear and loud.
We bear the horror — we deserve no other.
The prophet’s words have formed a cloud:

Nine sick have paved the way to health,
They call it CowID — the new stealth.
And creatures craft new false diseases,
Like once again, the “AIDS” thesis.

Nine-tenths are mentally broken,
The last too weak to fight the yoke.
Against the cursed fascist token,
They’re dumb, enslaved, and tightly choked.

They crushed all life beneath the mass.
Only carcasses will pay.
If you don’t fight, life’s chance will pass —
You’re just a broken soul, decayed.

Build your commune, smash the lies,
Seek fresh paths to save your soul.
The beasts have learned old tricks and spies —
So tread new roads, regain control.

The Light is hard — the Hell is near —
That’s why the **** rage so and shout.
Though dark and scary, fight your fear —
With Spirit’s link, you’ll break their rout.

Pure Spirit is our fortress, rock.
The ceilings fall like crumbling floors.
A mighty cataclysm will knock,
And sweep away the rotten sores.

A new world — Spirit’s dimension —
Will come to those who save their soul.
To fools, this’s only rumor’s mention —
Let them laugh: the fool’s Hell’s goal.



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




Ceilings press, false knowledge spreads,
Minds are fodder, Spirit dreads.
Fight the lies and find the Light —
Or fade away in endless night.