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Heirlooms

Jun 2017

One day, parkouring through my uncles two story apartment,

I was drawn naturally to his desktop computer

upon which I found his OkCupid Dating profile.

I don't remember his username, Or anything about the site really,

But I remember the head-shot of a beautiful woman

framed above the desk

the sterile grey Rubbermaid totes behind me like caskets, 

How they made even the hardwood floors

look like they were holding in the dead.

For my Grandmothers birthday

my family gathered at Captain Newicks

her favorite seafood restaurant.

My uncle flirted with the waitress.

I don't think I've ever gone to a restaurant with my uncle where he

didn't flirt with the waitress.

Captain Newicks went out of business shortly after that dinner

followed shortly by my grandmothers life.

the relationship between my uncle and that waitress expired well

before both my Grandmother or Captain Newicks.

I remember asking my grandmother about my Uncle.

Tarots Fool would have predicted

my grandmothers eyelids

a silent prayer before her words.

He had two children by his first wife,

keeps a portrait of her above his desk.

She was a blessing on the family

Selfless amd loved by every one.

She took her own life

Spread her wings to break free from the cage He kept her locked in.

He buried his heart in her casket,

motorcycles, empty bottles

had a third child by a second wife

who buried her heart in drugs and strangers.

Amanda was 6 years old when her mother died.

my uncles wife. Her brother josh was 3

when she died my uncle wanted to put them both up for adoption

he didn't.

Their mother died on the 20th of September

a week after her 25th birthday.

their mother once bought a bunch of carnations

with a dead rose in the middle

and said "it looks like I'm dead".

she took a bottle of pills before going to a chinese restaurant

went out as a family

and collapsed at the table.

she was rushed to the hospital

she didn't make it.

their mother wasn't happy

her and my uncle were getting divorced at the time

lived in the same house that I grew up in.

when my uncle told the kids mommy wasn't coming home

my mother was 17 

and there to see all of it.

When my mother was 17 

she had to watch her baby cousins be told their mother had died.

When my grandmother passed.

grief bounced off of my uncles callouses

ricocheted to my cousins, robbed 

twice now of a selfless mother.

The tragedies in my family

have always enthralled me.

like shakespeare sonnets

I breath them into my faithless nights

tap an extra dream-catcher on my bedpost

in space of a prayer.

When The hearth-fire of our family dimmed 

a tealight in my grandmothers eyes.

grayed, Glossed.

she could no longer crochet 

one big dysfunctional quilt, 

together from our families yarn.

without her needle, 

I was determined to watch how our life spun forward.

The next time I saw my uncle,

He offered me a job.

Thick mosquito blinded us as we carried our sweat 

with Rubbermaid totes into a blue two story home 

deep in the evergreen thickets of Maine.

a tall white fan rotated slowly back and fourth 

Cooling the wet patches on our T-shirts while my Uncle 

flirted with the landlord

I still remember when my uncle tossed me the truck keys

the look of terror I gave him

How easy it was for him to trust

I guess when your heart is buried in a casket 

you stop worrying who has your keys.

It makes me remember

when my daughter asked for my keys 

I would sit her in the drivers seat

watch her pretend to drive.

I loved imagining her free

living how she wanted.

I still wouldn't give her my keys.

she would turn my car into a casket.

It makes me remember

when that little girls mother asked me to drive

My words spun portcullises

prison bars forged in anxiety

scaffolding out of latex secrets

Glued with siren smiles, pacifier kisses

denying cigarette smoke on her breath

fueling infernos in my head.

when my uncle handed me his keys without hesitation.

my religion was insulted by his tough skin.

I felt his simple kindness 

like a splash of holy water. 

saw in me, the devil 

caging a woman like property

holding her hostage 

out of fear.

And yes 

when She could drive she left me

And yes 

when she left me she took her daughter.

every morning 

cereal bowl of pills, I **** myself

keep a poster of my mothers face 

covered in bruises 

behind the tiny orange bottles 

to remind me why I do it.

wake up twice, 

first as Phoenix, dying

second as a watcher, writer and admirer.

callouses are not to protect us from the outside at all.

Callouses harden our bodies into caskets.

Hold in all our dead.
Hex Jan 2021
Autumn's eve, tinting leaves, the breeze creates a gentle hiss,
     A sun shining bright, wooded air
     that bites,
     Would meet to kiss, rebirthing night.
A hunter trawled through forest sprawled,
it flowed and rose before him,
     With him came prose he must
     prepose the winter snows that awaited,
     The winter snows, would end his hunt,
     and so off he set with a subtle grunt,
     To complete his latest autumn hunt,
     a stunt raught with err.

A fortnight prior, the hunter slept in a spire, a vision came as he did tire,
     A shimmering gold figure, whose shape
     bent and flickered,
     With haunting words it smiled and
     snickered;
     "On a jaunt to forest haunts, not an
     arrow shall be nocked--
           --lest all effort be for naught."
The hunter gave the lot no thought,
     An archer, he is, a prophet, he is not,
     And so was his steed set off on a trot--
           "--Lest all effort be for naught."

A hare was eyed, time now nigh, prey and predator had arrived,
     Hunter prepping a bow draw, as hare
     gingerly awed and gnawed,
     As hare gnawed, a warning walked, out
     to the hunter's mind,
     Reminding him, to his chagrin--
"Not an arrow shall be nocked," inside his mind it ticked and tocked,
     Words flicking like hands on clocks, the
     ticking clock, he cleared with knocks,
     And so he returned to his stalk, but once
     an arrow then did nock--
           --Alas, all effort was for naught.

The ground caved in, his head spins, as his punishment begins,
     Take from the forest, and the forest
     takes back,
     Our hunter grasped, as he fell to black,
     his dream was no dream, but real life,
     He strifed over omens, regret that stung
     like a knife,
     But descent had already begun, with
     darkness endlessly growing rife.
He had spent his whole life gloating,
     now he felt as though he's floating,
     floating deep to an abyss,--
     Nay, not safety, nay, much darker, nay,
     unnatural-- nay, remiss.

Body meets tension, and blood meets a flood,
     A splash, and a crash, as the hunter fell
     with a thud,
     He had berthed on a river, clothing and
     blood curdled with mud.
Awoken from slumber, skull pounding like thunder, his mind felt asunder,
     Rolling over a flower, he climbed
     from the river,
     Perverse cold forcing a shiver, as he
     looked to the sky, and began to quiver,
Onyx above, with a moon shining three, scouting around, he shan't find many a tree,
     Or any sign that from this hell, he'll be
     freed--
            --Lest he notice the shimmer,
              approaching with speed.

The shimmer approached, the hunter recognized he,
     The shape from the vision, that whom
     warned thee,
"I see that my warning, thou did not heed, now thou must travel, if thou wished to leave,"
     The words strengthened the thunder
     inside the head of our hunter,
     But then he spoke, with an intrigue of
     wonder,
"Where must I go, with my head pounding like thunder, and self so asunder?"
     The shimmer glared, its gilded eyes
     flared, freezing the hunter like snares,
"Voyage to the Druid, speak to thee, ask for relief, and thou shall be free, but when the deal has ended, have not a spare thought--
            --Lest all effort be for naught."

And so the hunter travelled endless night,
     Bulbous purple pods glowing on the
     ground, providing light,
     As giggles from around echoed, causing
     fright.
Our archer saw faeries, goblins and elves, hiding in the shadows, deep they'd delve,
     Child's fairytales, nay, did not match
     the whelm,
     He felt as if in his own mind he'd lost
     the helm,
     In the so unknown, yet familiar realm.
At last up ahead he saw a light, the shine of a lantern, a beacon in the night,

Ahead lie a hut, a small abode, he set for the door and trekked the road,
     He made it to the home, hoping for
     luck,
     He grabbed the doorknocker, adorned
     with a buck, and rapped three times,--
--"My door you've struck, and summoned me, state your name, or propose a plea."
     A frazzled voice from the other side, so
     quickly, the hunter knew he had little
     time,
     His thoughts, a clogged drain, but finally
     became fluid,--
            --"I, the hunter, wish to speak to the
              Druid!"

Inside the shack, the two had talked, after the knocked door was locked,
     The hunter had the holder chalked, the
     Druid she was, and so he hawked,
     Asking, pleading, and begging for help,
     until she finally talked,
"I can read your future, boy, I'll call upon my Tarot, but in exchange, when comes the First of Snows, you must not lie low."
     The hunter was perplexed, reluctantly
     he agreed not to cower,
     The Druid then laid out all three,--
            --The Fool, Eight Swords, The Tower.

"Before I explain the Tarot to you, I must ask a question too,"
     The Druid spoke with wretched ardor,
     But as she hissed, our hunter had to
     listen harder,
"Do you know, the shimmering glow? It's the one who shares your fate,
     But beware its trap, within a snap,--
            --You could both open the gate."

The Tarots meant only one thing each, Naive, Hopeless, Doomed,
     Shocked by landing on The Tower
     locked the hunter into gloom,
     Then the Druid had one last warning,
     a mourning that froze the room,
"You will find that Tower, boy, and you must hold our deal,
     Resort to zeal, and turn your heel,--
            --And The Tower will be your tomb."

The hunter tripped and left the Druid, rushing back on trail,
     His spirit felt as though a fawn, frail,
     and his path like a train, on rails,
     But he knew as the wind did gale, and
     freezing rain began to hail,--
            --Traveling the veil, he mustn't fail.
Then he sauntered off to wander, not a stretch away, he sensed a haunter,
     He saw a damsel, through rain's silky
     curtain,
     Looming, deep within the black, a
     vermin frame which flowed as glass,--
            --To persist, to leave, that which
              he must pass.

A serpent, it slithered, our hunter shivered,
     A feminine side revealed, as it got closer,
     a familiar poseur,
     Our hunter had to steel,
     But as the ghastly creature neared,
     his composure wept with yield.
Half-snake, half-woman, it spoke soft and slow,
     "You're brave to show, you're weak here,
     useless I'd say-- the Tarot told, I heard, I
     know!"
     As it spoke, its tail flickered, eyes alight
     with rosette glimmer,--
            --Our hunter knew, he'd met a
              trickster.

This snake, it claimed it was part of the hunter,
     Part of the hunter, surely a blunder, he
     was no viper,
     But the snake became hyper, its voice
     high like the shrill of a piper,
"I know you and you know me, but your feeble mind, it cannot see!
     I would say to look within, but you're
     powerless, you couldn't even begin!"
     The snake had spoke with a giggle and a
     grin, and quickly turned sour,--
            --"My name is not snake, please, call
              me Flower!"

Flower ended up a consort, nary a slithering foe to thwart,
     They'd walk and they'd chatter,
     The soothing rain's patter, appended by
     small creatures scatter,
     But before long, Flower had stopped,
     with something the matter,
"A mirage, I've sensed, do you feel it, the air ever so dense?"
     The thought forced the hunter to tense,
     he felt the air, ever so dense indeed,
     But Flower he could read, her face
     screamed with plead,

"The Tower, it's here. The one from the Tarot,"
     Flower spoke slow, speech reaching a
     crawl,
     "I can bring the Tower, it will use all of
     my power,
     But you must keep your deal, you
     mustn't cower!
     Within you will always be a friendly
     little Flower,"
Her tail flicked, she smiled, "Close your eyes, archer," and so our hunter did,
     Alas, when he opened his lids, his only
     ally was rid,--
           --A Flower replaced, by a tower.

He took a moment to reflect, upon the roads that he had trekked,
     The warm river, the safest he'd felt,
     before he was shook by a jolting, cold
     shiver,
     The druid, the scholar of fate, the
     friendly mystery from whom he hid,
     Yet Flower, the extension of him, a
     snake he'd judged and wished he'd
     forbid,
All assistance lost, warmth had turned to frost, as he looked to the tower, he did fraught, but he must begin,--
            --Lest all effort be for naught.

He entered the spire, and his soul felt dire,
     As he seeked up to see stairs seemingly
     spun by a spider,
     The climb felt wholly bleak, but he
     summited the peak,
To the top suite he'd sneak, and look in with a peek,
     To see a familiar physique, shimmering
     and sleek,
     As he scouted the room, lost in ornate
     mystique,
     His legs felt swiftly weak, a lavish floor
     creaked,--
            --And this piqued the figure,
              who began to speak.
    
"Thou hast found the Tower, the Druid, and the Flower. Yet the taste, it still seems sour?
     Worry not my hunter, ye need not scour,
     your hunt has reached its final hour."
     As peril did flow, our hunter did know,
     and reached for his sidearm,
     His trusted bow.
"Sheathe thy fury, and do not worry, just enjoy my show,
     Set down thy bow, and peer the window,
     But surely, thou already knows--
             --Thou hast reached the First of
              Snows."

The light had lingered into night, soil stifled by ivory plight,
     As the hunter twisted back, he heard a
     composed crack,
     The figure had snapped, and the walls,
     collapsed,
     Then they were out in the sleet, the
     frigid air a silky sheet,
The indigo sky danced like a marionette
of winter,
     A violet aurora, sliced through like a
     splinter,
     Iris flowers in the wind, shuddering
     with a shiver.

"Thou art getting what thou desired, dear hunter,
     Or doth thou wish to wait and wither?"
     The voice of the shimmer, it spoke with
     a chill,
     As if the snow had forced it to a shrill,
     The hunter felt a thrill, as in a glance,
     the shimmer's intentions would spill
     from its stance,
"Thou knew this would come, I know thou hast great skill,
     Alas, thou art a hunter, now come
     for the k*ll."

The hunter drew his bow, and an arrow he nocked,
     He could feel his heart ticking, counting
     down like a clock,
     The shimmer turned pink and purple,
     with eyes black, like a portal.
"I never craved to hurt thou, yet thou broke thy own law,"
     The shimmer had said, but yet it stood
     still in awe,
     The hunter thought he was ready, he
     locked on, then draw,--
          --Then he felt a pain, a thrash, and
            his heart began to thaw.

He looked down and saw crimson, a **** let loose velvet ribbon,
     He fell back to the snow, and as he
     gazed skyward,
     Up stepped a purple glow, to look at the
     hunter below,
Their eyes met, and at last, true nature would show,
     The hunter's woe, he'd finally know,--
          --Was the furthest thing from a foe.

Behind the figure a gateway, a gateway of silver,
     Then the figure turned grey, his
     shimmering grew dimmer,
     Defeat still boiled in the heart of the
     hunter,
     It was met with ease, and the two
     would melt and simmer,
"Our bond is obvious, certainly, dear hunter, just as our dreams melt in snow,--
           --My heart ignites, infernally."

It was then the hunter noticed the arrow,
     His shot had hit, but the shimmer shook
     it off, unevenly harrowed,
     Then the hunter's vision narrowed,
     and he realized his last arrow, he'd split,
"I didn't want thy death, or mine along with it,"
     It spoke as if for two, and open the gate
     flew,
     "We're connected, me and you, I need
     not be blunt,
     I loathe to see the river dry, alas, there's
     an end to every flow,
     But blood in the snow, under a
     violet glow,--
          --Befit to end our hunt."
A long tale of naivete and peril, set in the universe of my first ever poem, Iris and Brunnera; https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3873475/iris-and-brunnera/
One cries from a foxhole
A tear splashes an urn
Some dance laced in bootstraps
Many diminished returns
Two shuffle tarots
“All in!” Shouts a third
Homesteads brandish wind chimes
Infant dreams lay deferred
A quiet malarkey
As hunger pangs ring
Piled high, bullion
Cages hearts and clips wings
SassyJ Apr 2016
As the night shifts, the glass prints
The universe retorts and restores
Connective strands pulls from dark
Exposed from the rumbled tosses

Mosses generate, diversified integration
Masses inaugurated in magical reality
Electrified from the syndical sorrows
Tarots of the forgiven, sad sung songs

The tree branches held strong as I slid
The town halls illuminated to capture
A magnificence of a nature umbilical
Enclosed in the warmth of the placenta

My centre cored on the base of the earth
A need to belong on grounded dense soil
Calm tornados and typhoons unheated
Treated in fountained grace of existence
Harry J Baxter Feb 2014
The kids are in the backroom
trying their hands at whiskey and ****
and lung cancer
with one too many ideas of glorification
but look at them -
watch them all try to be mean, hurt souls -
they all sound the same
the same post-rockstar lamentations
of the “Oh-so-cruel-world”
they’re fine with playing the victim
Now watch them cut horizons across forearms and thighs
This cry for help isn’t quite loud enough
to drown out the laughtrack soundtrack coming from my TV
I’m slow dancing with the Devil
in a candle lit room
romantic as all hell
I think I should lunge in for the fiery kiss
the Devil is one pretty *** chick
her belly full with all the reckless children
but I am wary -
I’ve always had issues with intimacy
and the great temptress is no different
we played a game of cards and became fast friends
as her tarots told me everything I wanted to hear
I asked her if she wouldn’t mind keeping my angst for safe keeping
so I can dip my pen in on occasion
but she jet set for the back door with my ego
and left me, Screaming through the night sky
back across the river of souls
Standing me up for the big dance number
the Devil is one mean *****
alex Feb 2018
the e m p r e s s ordered
the commencement of building a house
out of hearts
a member of the roundtable
mere a f o o l
damnations
& agreements
blasphemy is law, fingers sew
whatever
ears hear
mouths out
the k n i g h t is at most a j a c k
ripping off ****** organs, blood-pumpers
the snow-clad land is tainted in crimson
hands are dripping scarlet
just a matter of tarots
nailed onto the town hall's board
and j o k e r s are us
this comedy show
logic rusting in the mind's attic
lambs and inanimate s h e p e r d s
for we are blind
for we believe
Things are not the same. Retrograde.  Time to take control of this play.

As your mom alternates the waves, rivers and death's signal.  I recognize the elements  in all of you.

Ascension is the lesson. 'Good' & Bad' are perspective control definitions,  even in TAROTS

Words can be disruptive rather then constructive.

     Opportunity, shows it's face as ambiguity.

                    who said you ACTUALLY Knew me?

These Triggers towards your conscious connection

The things your uncomfortable talking about will always be protected. (Here)

Disruptive...

Protect yourself make sure everything is the way it should be. 

 The TRIGGER IS  to not be conservative, DON'T miss out on a opportunity, don't fall for the fake fantasy success in your head.


Opportunity...

really be aware who you're associated with, It's tough to make a Conscious connection


Change has to happen !!!


The power of this reading, yes these words are truly alive and breathing.

Be a rock this month this also resets the next month you read this....bless.
Akashbeer Jan 2020
I feel the devil sitting on my shoulder,
Whom every man considers an ill omen.
I feel my house is burning in a fire,
And all I can do is write a poem.

I feel the devil's whisper in my ear,
Which tells me to do something bad.
I feel the darkness coming closer,
And I don’t even know how to be mad.

I feel the devil's spear pricking my neck,
Punishing me for all my sins.
I feel the tarots torn on the deck,
And all I can do is grin.

I feel his presence growing,
The hope in me has started to melt.
I feel my freedom ending,
And I can't even cry for help.
This is the first in my collection 'A Balled of Heart and soul'

This is on emotion hopelessness
amanda lees Jul 2024
I used to have such love for you,
Such compassion.

Resent fills the cracks in my heart
That you left.

I need to forgive
For you
For me
The tarots told me so

But I don’t know how to
Not yet
Not now.
True Clarity

To keep the mind unclouded,
No chatter, no deceit —
Perceive this world as shrouded
In filth beneath its sheet.

Observe — but stay unshaken,
Seek out your primal face,
And when the Light has wakened
One moment of its grace —

Don't cling! Or else illusion
Will fake that Light again.
Thus every foul delusion
Is dressed in holy names:

"Enlightenment", "Nirvana"...
The ****** will always fall
For trash dressed as banana
Peels in their monkey squall.

The fakes of evil linger —
They flood the world, they hum.
The Soul has guiding fingers,
While lies will lead to ****.

This madhouse of deception —
It’s global. Time to wake!
This coma-like reception
Of dreams you must forsake.

To intuition turning —
Forget tradition’s cage!
A dogma merely burning
With ego’s rotting rage.

So many preach like parrots,
So few are truly pure.
Your Soul may rot in tarots
If dogma is your cure.

The world is run by vermin —
Religions packed with brutes.
Their festivals determine
How Satan prosecutes.

Reject their pomp and poison!
Their “science” just as fake —
Corrupted and exploitive,
A war for spirit's sake.

A war against all Meaning —
The frontlines are your mind.
Be strong, refuse their scheming,
No peace with those aligned.

Not humans — just abusers,
The herd is mostly dead.
No place left now for losers
If demons rule instead.

So keep your mind untainted —
Let this your protest be.
Stand tall, though darkness's painted
The world — and fight to see.



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




1.
Keep your mind a blazing blade —
The world is filth in holy shade.

2.
Clarity's revolt begins
Where lies wear halos on their sins.

3.
Don't kneel to beasts in sacred dress —
Their dogma leads to mind's regress.

4.
The soul won't shine in demon schools —
Reject their gods. Defy their rules.



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



The Deadlings

A tangled mess of empty schemes —
Deceit, delusion, fruitless fear.
This world’s dementia kills our dreams —
And turns our lives to ash down here.

Not ash alone — the walking dead
Surround the few who still can think.
To call them fools won’t clear your head —
Their souls are gone. They rot. They stink.

Soulless, mindless, they are many,
Yet preach of “God” with vacant grin.
That’s just the mark — the dark uncanny
Of filth the propaganda’s in.

Fascism rules the global madhouse,
A circus soaked in fear and shame.
The Spirit fades. We drift in blackout,
While Reason’s near-extinguished flame.

This is the frame — you’ve seen it clearly
In lines above, without a mask.
And each bears blame. If you act merely
By silence — you betray the task.

Your soul will shrink in meek submission,
Your mind will rot and fall apart.
You’ll join the ranks of Death’s procession —
Unless you burn this madhouse start!

The choice is made — on high, it's spoken:
The Sun ignites — no shade, no shield.
It burns this world of minds all broken —
This hell, where Satan’s crown is sealed.

A tangled mess of hollow chatter,
Of fear and fraud and empty pride —
Yet if you’re free from all this clatter,
You just might not be cast aside.

So slam the door — let truth come roaring!
Create, expose, reveal, defy!
Let no one see you kneel, imploring —
But watch the Beast with open eye.

Few hear — propaganda's swelling,
It blinds, it numbs, it calls the shots.
This rotting world’s controlled by felons,
Who herd the meek in stinking lots.

They herd. They “heal.” They called it CowID,
A circus trick for global fools.
But retribution's coming — how it’d
Scorch those who claimed they made the rules!

The Reaper’s near — from higher stations.
He’ll reap the wise and burn the weeds.
So rise — in strength and revelation:
The weak stay mute when evil feeds.



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




1.
The deadlings preach while Reason dies —
Burn down their madhouse, tear the lies!

2.
Don't beg the Beast, don't kiss its claw —
Expose the filth, become the Law.

3.
The Sun is lit. The weeds will burn.
Now is the time — refuse to turn.

4.
A soul that kneels is dead already.
Stand tall. Be fierce. Be sharp. Be steady.



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



Take the Blow

Take the blow of fate, degraded —
You're not the judge of mortal things.
Satan, godlike simulated,
Strikes those who won’t bow down to kings.

So few refuse to bow or grovel —
Through crowds, his vengeance finds its prey.
If you endure too long, you’ll swallow
Your soul — in Hell. And honor? Stray.

And Reason sinks as well, discarded —
They stir all minds into decay.
This mix must rot — dark, foul, unguarded —
The Beast demands it be that way.

They call it "thought", this mass infection —
A groupthink brain, half-dead, half-blind.
But you — the one who shows defection —
They’ll break you down with all their kind.

The parents first, the school, the leaders,
The crowd — they’ll come in one tight wave.
They’ll train you fast — not as a thinker,
But as a servant. As a slave.

It’s hard to take those blows, unbending,
Alone — but if you still resist
The world of fakes and false pretending,
You’ll glimpse the Spirit’s shining mist.

Soullessness is all around you.
The halfwits want to teach you how
To crawl, submit, and let them hound you —
In Hell, that’s what they nurture now.

So go within — where intuition
Can guide you through the darkest hour.
Don’t count on rituals or traditions —
They're masks for greed, control, and power.

Religious “gods” are fed and bloated,
While truth is smothered under gold.
And science too is weak and hopeless
If Spirit there is bought and sold.

Lies hit much harder than injections
Of fear and filth from soulless swarms.
The media breeds mass infections —
Through lies they rule, through lies they form.

For centuries the beasts have guided
This world through fear, deceit, and pain.
And now, the rot can’t be divided —
It burns. It breaks. And none remain.

The purge begins through great collisions —
Disasters come to clear the air.
This world, that drowned in fascist visions,
Will reap the doom it chose to bear.

But if you took the blow — and stayed there,
And didn’t break — then you may rise.
Fight back. Don't beg. Let truth invade there —
Within are all the clear replies.



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




1.
The blow of lies? Take it and stand.
Truth strikes within — not by command.

2.
They train you soft. You fight alone.
But Spirit shines when masks are gone.

3.
Bow down — you're dead. Resist — you rise.
The war is won through inner eyes.

4.
The Beast breeds fear. The herd obeys.
You burn it down — or rot in haze.



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



Pseudo-Science, or The CowID Test


“There is only as much truth in science as there is math in it.”
— Immanuel Kant

When Laplace was asked why he admitted physicians to the Academy,
though medicine isn’t a science, he said:
“So they can speak with scientists.”


Mathematics can’t describe
Even particles with grace —
And the “sciences” contrive
Pure lies to hide their hollow face.

But none have lied so deep, so wide
As medicine in modern dress.
(That Laplace did not foresee —
What filth would flourish from that mess.)

CowID proved it. Take a glance:
The herd is real — the mask, their brand.
A leash for minds that stand no chance,
With swine and vultures in command.

Those who launched that filthy fable
Are too many to be named.
Now we sit at death’s own table —
Where Reason’s final breath is claimed.

The test is failed. The cage is rising.
Digital, cold, and brightly lit.
No escape for those still trying
To think — they’re first to be “unfit.”

The “uninfected” will be hunted.
One by one, they’ll disappear.
All your hopes are now confronted —
For there’s no shelter left for clear.

Degeneration’s law is binding —
This whole dumb world, a broken pact.
And the verdict is defining:
Poisoned cheese. A fatal trap.



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




1.
A mask for truth, a leash for thought —
The CowID test? You failed. You’re caught.

2.
Not science — just a slaughterhouse.
The mind is dead. Long live the mouse.

3.
The trap was baited, cheese was sweet —
Now Reason rots beneath their feet.

4.
They called it “care”. It stank of fear.
The herd obeyed — now death is near.



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



Stanisław Jerzy Lec


“The ones who’ve made this world grotesque
Are always first to ask me:
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’”
— S. J. Lec


Oh, such a beautiful world — hooray!
Liars take aim at truth each day.
Their bullets? Stupidity, proudly worn,
Growing in caliber since I was born.

He died in Poland — Stanisław L.
Did he foresee this corporate Hell?
The rise of CowID, the AIDS parade,
A fascist plague in TV-grade.

This filth — “so beautiful”, beasts proclaim.
They rule this globe through blood and shame.
To walk through lies and stay awake
Without becoming just another fake —

That’s not just luck. That’s strength and pain.
And still they scream, with ghoulish grin:
“It’s better now! The world is grand!”
While filth pours out from every hand.

They’ll lie and lie till lies wear gold —
The herd believes what it is told.
“No horror here!” — they chant, amazed.
But is it “people”… or just “grazed”?



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




1.
“It’s beautiful!” — the demons shout,
While torching truth and wiping out.

2.
They beg for praise, these beasts in power —
Who ****** on beauty every hour.

3.
You call it “peace”? You call it “grace”?
Then wipe the blood off your own face.

4.
The world’s not vile? Then take a look —
They’ve hung the truth on every hook.



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



Approach of the Sheepish Hell

Darkness thickens, rabble turns to sheep,
Bowed beneath the weight of fear and lies
That pour in torrents from the screens — so deep
Mirages spawn, the life they disguise.

A life that serves the Evil’s throne,
But twisted back against the homeland’s core.

We inch toward Sheep Hell — obedience the key.
Within the New Stable ends the road we roam.
It started in chains, beneath fascist debris,
They turn us all to sheep — and little’s left to go.

CowID revealed it all — a muzzle was the test.
Three quarters lost in madness’ grip — no hope, no rest.
For those poor souls, no return to human light.
Room six is sorrow’s ward — a hopeless night.

But fear and bowing down have all been wasted now —
No saving grace in chains, for “evil” cataclysm nears.
It’ll crush the Sheepish World — that filth, that falsehood’s vow.
CowID showed the truth: fascism reigns in all frontiers.



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




1.
Sheep herd bound in lies and fear —
Hell draws near, the end is clear.

2.
CowID’s muzzle marks the sheep —
No escape, the fall is deep.

3.
Fascism’s shadow rules the fold —
Burn the lies, reclaim the soul.

4.
Obedience leads straight to Hell —
Break the chains, refuse the spell.



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



The Sieve in "Science"

“If facts don’t back the theory —
They must be swept away.”
— Arthur Bloch, “Murphy’s Law”


They sift out all the facts they hate —
The base of science sold and sold.
Few strange attractors here, just bait
Of false docs forged, the lies retold.

With doctored proofs, the **** create
The “evidence” they’re paid to spin.
The media then broadcasts fate —
A poison drip that dulls within.

But facts that would expose the fraud —
A growing heap they bury deep.
All that’s left heard is the nod
Of rot that in their minds will creep.

For orders come from Satan’s throne —
Their masters set the lies to flow.
Hence all around the fake has grown:
Fake AIDS, CowID — fascism’s show.

They think a needle kills more than bombs,
And honest scientists grow scarce.
Instead, they smother colleagues’ qualms —
Destroying truth with subtle farce.

Theories brewed on ***** deals —
“Proofs” whipped up before you blink.
Betrayal rules from peaks to seals —
This world is poison, on the brink.

Theories bought and sold at will,
They play the world like puppets’ strings.
All traitors marching, sharp and shrill —
Attacking fools on broken wings.

The fool surrenders, soon will fall
Darkness’ triumph, cold and grim.
The few who fight stand lone, small,
Bright minds trapped in shadows dim.

Only few resist the evil —
So odds are thin, but still alive.
If you don’t bow, that cursed upheaval
Will falter — madness won’t survive.

That madness bred by false science,
By religion steeped in lies —
A world of torment and compliance,
Where fascism rules and multiplies.

“Science” as a fascist creed:
“Proven!” cries the zombie herd,
Drowned in idiocy, they feed
The slave’s dull, never-ending word.

The mad slaves churned out on demand —
A scientific assembly line.
What comes next? The beast’s command:
To turn us all to cattle, fine.

Just look at Russia’s “Putin” show —
A world beneath, a hellish draft.
But there’s a twist: the warm winds blow —
“Science” means cows that ****, not craft.

My gut whispers now: “Redemption’s near —
Through Death — if that foul world will fall,
By venom’s hand, the truth is clear,
The beast that breaks will break it all.”



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




1.
Facts be ****** — the lies take root,
Science sold to fascist brute.

2.
Proofs are forged, the fools comply,
Slaves in chains, no reason’s sky.

3.
CowID’s stink, the herd’s disgrace —
Science turned a slaughterplace.

4.
Madness churns on factory lines,
Turning minds to cattle fines.



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



The Path of Knowing

“He who ignores the question of existence
suffers from weak-mindedness.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer


A world of fools — prepare for noise,
But not for true existence’ voice.
To fools, this torment is denied —
They clutch the lies, their senses tied.

Look ‘round — it’s cash, not quests or books,
That keeps the vile machine’s strong hooks.
A propaganda war so mean,
To keep the masses dull and keen.

From childhood on, they teach the throng:
“Obey! Dream small, don’t think too long —
About your cottage, car, your toys...”
And thus are made the brainless boys.

Exceptions vanish, birds extinct,
Their voices lost — no time to think.
Idiots rise to fill the space,
As reason dies without a trace.

CowID’s bottom showed the truth —
Reason crushed, no mental ruth.
Digital camps loom close ahead,
Decay spreads fast — the dead will tread.

Artificial dumbing down —
Pressured by lies and false renown.
False science chains, fake faith controls,
Fear and nerves enslave the souls.

The masses dumb, wild, crazed, profane —
They only know to chase the gain.
And here’s the test, the question true:
Will you break free, or join the crew?

Will you reject the herd’s dumb lies,
Seek truth alone, be clear and wise —
Or fall with three quarters of the herd,
Their minds as deaf as any bird?

Grow sharp and fine — embrace your gut,
Let critical mind not shut.
Remember: mind beneath the Spirit,
Belly’s just the noisy merit.

Stock patience well — the Path is hard.
To know the Spirit — not by cards.
Spirit through Spirit comes to light,
Mind’s just tool to hold it right.

The moment comes — a sudden gleam —
When clarity breaks logic’s scheme.
Connected to the all, the whole —
It halts the rot that kills the soul.

Without this direct, clear sight,
Decay is law — your fading light.
This is the core of Spirit’s road.
So rise — begin your heavy load!



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




1.
Break free from herd, awake your mind —
True Spirit’s path is hard to find.

2.
Mind serves Spirit — gut just noise,
Walk the path, reclaim your poise.

3.
Clarity bursts beyond the scheme —
Stop decay, ignite the dream.

4.
Three quarters lost — don’t be their prey,
Rise up, and walk the Spirit’s way.



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



Fascist States and Their Pocket Terrorism

Terrorism bows to idiocy —
A tool that fools embrace with glee.
**** serving fascism’s throne —
The states that own the terror’s bone.

They must create the very mess,
To sell “solutions” — more distress.
Strengthening chains, deepening the cage —
We’ll rot in camps, the modern stage.

They blew the towers — CIA’s hand —
So Sovok’s ghosts could still command.
To keep the eagle’s head bowed down,
Suppressing any rising crown.

No future here — just idiotic norm,
CowID revealed the storm.
Beasts lie brazen, vile, and stark,
With every year they darken dark.

Lawlessness spreads like poison’s flame —
Fascism worse than ******’s name.
Executions swapped for needles’ sting,
A new war masked with suffering.

The tightening grip drags us deep,
This world descends, no chance for sleep.



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




1.
Fascist states breed terror’s breed —
Control by fear, obey, concede.

2.
Towers fall, lies rise in smoke —
Needles replace the gun’s cold stroke.

3.
CowID’s reign, the darkest hour —
Chains grow tight, they **** the power.

4.
No future left — the cage is set,
Fight or drown in their cold net.



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



Independent Thinking

“Humanity — or most of it — hates to think alone.
It takes as insult even the faintest call
To leave the beaten path and walk a new,
Different road by its own judgment.”
— Helena Blavatsky


To think is hard. To think is fear:
A world dissolves, once held so near.
No help from thought you’ll ever find —
It fails to save the common mind.

The meek fool mocks, “What a dunce!”
The tyrant’s wrath will soon pronounce:
If quick, it’s death or prison’s chain —
For thinking frees — they fear the brain.

Dumbing down and spirit’s death —
The “path” all generations take.
They march to Hell’s advancing breath,
Dragging souls beneath the break.

CowID showed how close the gate —
Three quarters lost to mindless state.
The herd believes and blindly obeys —
Genocide speeds through fatal haze.

Soulless fools are worse than Hell,
For fascism’s roots grow strong and swell.
The world resembles filth and slime,
As darkness thrives and kills all time.

From filth to Hell’s dark road extends,
When Mind and Spirit slip to end.
Just wait a while — hear tyrants knock —
Their servants come to seal the lock.



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




1.
To think alone? They’ll call you fool —
But freedom’s spark breaks every rule.

2.
Three quarters lost — the herd obeys,
While tyrants set the world ablaze.

3.
Mind dulled to dust, the soul decayed —
The path to Hell is self-made.

4.
Stand firm, resist, or be the pawn —
The tyrant’s grip will crush the dawn.



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



"Rising from the Knees"...

Chains have sunk into my knees.
I try to rise, but cannot break.
This is fate for all degrees —
The rotten fool believes in hate.

Decay has eaten through the soul —
Worse than CowID’s dark toll.
The further on, the more insane
The wicked breed their creeping bane.

False diseases — test balloons,
Then Digital Camps’ cruel run.
**** disposed of free and loose —
War on beasts, a deadly ruse.

Each day grows the tyrant’s sway,
Building ranks through media’s play.
If you refuse to sell your soul,
You’ll greet death as final goal.

A “reward” of darker night —
The gloom compresses ever tight.
Yet one comfort still remains:
Counting down the end of chains.

Cataclysm will disrupt
The plans of filthy, cruel ****.
Back to Hell they all will go —
With sheep beside them, lost below.

Count the days — the hour’s near.



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




1.
Chains dig deep, we try to rise —
Fools trust lies, the darkness flies.

2.
False plagues spread, the camps prepare —
Only fools will face despair.

3.
Media builds the tyrant’s throne —
Refuse to bow, or die alone.

4.
Countdown ticks — the end will come,
Filth and sheep will burn as one.



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



The Flow Is No Good

It’s far more vital to observe
The flow’s dynamics — not preserve
Some frozen, torn-out fragment’s part,
Ripped from the stream’s continuous heart.

The flow’s alive — not just a flash.
To study that — a pointless clash.
Give me an experiment,
Simple yet elegant, well meant.

Nature flows, a ruthless stream —
Rip out a shred? It kills the dream.
Dissect it raw — that’s how you gain
All trophies, but it’s all in vain.

Divide it down, cell by cell,
You build a cruel classifier’s hell.
This twisted work they’ll all applaud —
A beast who serves the devil’s fraud.

For beasts alone, false science reigns,
For centuries it feeds their chains.
Darkness thickens — vile ******* crave
To drive the sane into the grave.

CowID revealed the score —
False science wages war.
Spirit wiped from theory’s frame —
Life’s foundation lost to shame.

Not at head, but all in pain —
The world herded, locked in chain.
Spirit rules above the mind,
Flow of nature’s grand design.

They want to banish it outright,
Cast the people into night.
Worse than cattle, worse than slime —
Soulless nothing, clay to grime.

Beasts mold monsters vile and dark,
While lies keep fueling world’s bark.
Corrupt “science” — brazen lies,
Mirages fed to duller minds.

Since childhood’s cruel deceit,
Fools are torn by false conceit.
All means used to dumb and blind —
Hell’s order, ruthless and unkind.

“Culture” — a dulling plague,
Polluted by the beastly plague.
Decay spreads everywhere —
We don’t live — we rot in despair.

For Spirit’s scarce among the throng,
Oppressed by fiends for far too long.
The last hope fades — the end is near,
But fools and beasts shall also fear.

Their end will come — no doubt, no jest —
Justice burns away the rest.



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




1.
False science feeds the beasts’ vile game,
Dulling minds, destroying flame.

2.
Spirit crushed, the herd’s controlled,
Soulless clay, the lies unfold.

3.
Culture rots, the darkness grows —
We don’t live, we’re buried foes.

4.
Last hope fades, but beasts will fall —
Justice comes to cleanse it all.



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



The Wheel of Ages

Putin will perish —
A new fiend will rise,
Spreading his filth
Through media lies:

Perestroika
And all that trash —
Thrown to the dumps,
No cash, no cash.

Worse awaits —
That’s the law’s decree.
Spirit weakens,
Reason flees.

By their deeds
And profits’ greed:
Fake diseases,
Horrors breed.

Wars and famine —
We deserve these fates,
If we endure,
Bound by Satan’s hates.

Putin’s just a minor spawn.
Too late to weep —
The nightmare’s drawn:

World Armageddon,
Specialists for mindless slaves.
Waiting for their end,
The world unravels in waves.

Filth spews from vile Schwab’s mouth,
Instead of Freedom —
The “Swab Zone” drouth.

The **** amuses the crowd,
Awaiting the next attack —
False plagues, poison’s sting,
Completing Evil’s track.

Putin will vanish.
All will fade.
Ashes cool down.
In the wheel’s shade —

The new hellish “new” world
Will choose its tyrant still.
Only a cigarette ****,
Or a ****’s will.

The world’s a camp, though called “social” —
The wheel of ages spins so cold.
Only down into abyss,
New CowID’s hold.

Reason killed once more —
Shame repeats its core.



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




1.
Putin falls — new beast will rise,
Spreading lies to blind our eyes.

2.
Fake plagues strike, the tyrants grin —
The wheel turns — the end begins.

3.
Reason dies, the shame returns,
Into abyss the whole world burns.

4.
New hell’s throne will claim its king —
Social camp or cursed ring.



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



Unlimited Power of the Inhuman


"All your dreams, desires, your animal lust,
Boil only ’round one thing — your food and dust.
Your envy, greed, and mindless, endless blight —
A colossal weapon wielded with cruel might."
— From a ruling inhuman’s confession, Moscow, 1991


Boundless stupidity,
Filth with no escape —
Fools kneel broken
Beneath the freaks’ cruel shape.

Envy, greed, and fear —
They pull the strings,
Racing fast full gear,
Directing everything.

Beasts drive us straight to Hell —
New Hell, old and vile,
A corrupt fiend leads well,
Ruling in ruthless style.

No pure souls stand among,
Unyielding and upright.
We wait the signal, “Hunt!”
In cities penned so tight.

CowID revealed it all —
They obey with zeal.
War — the new disgrace,
Souls crushed beneath the heel.

Through stupidity and fear,
This hell’s foundation laid.
A world turned to rotten dust —
Only lies are freshly made.

Total media reigns,
True power cloaked and sly.
The fiend receives the crown
From caste that rules on high.

The beast’s domain,
A box of zombie dung.
Servants of the stench
Where lies are proudly sung.

Dumbing down named “school,”
Equated to the herd.
How low we’ve fallen —
Mindless, deaf, unheard.

“Medicine” — a darkness spread,
In ages bleak and cursed,
The world’s chaotic mess
Into ruin coerced.

Those with minds grow fewer still,
Madness thrives, genocide’s will.

There’s hope — a cataclysm comes,
For souls with honor’s drum.
Surpassing fascist Hell’s domain,
Quick retreat to Spirit’s plane.

Fools and idiots march ahead —
To new false dreams they’re led.



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




1.
Stupidity boundless, filth supreme,
Fools bow down beneath the scheme.

2.
Envy, greed, and fear command —
Beasts drag souls to Hell’s dark land.

3.
Media’s poison, lies on blast,
Truth is dying — cursed and cast.

4.
Cataclysm waits — the end is near,
Spirit rises — fiends will fear.



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




1.
Shadow beasts weave fate’s cruel thread,
But Spirit wakes where angels tread.

2.
In darkest pits, the truth lies hid,
A flame unborn, yet never rid.

3.
Souls enslaved by lies and fear,
But ancient light draws ever near.

4.
Cataclysm’s roar shakes the veil,
New dawn breaks — the spirits hail.



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




1. Shadow beasts weave fate’s cruel thread,
But Spirit wakes where angels tread.
In veils of night, the darkness calls,
Yet deeper still, the silence falls.
Through shattered dreams and broken skies,
A whispered truth begins to rise.

2. In darkest pits, the truth lies hid,
A flame unborn, yet never rid.
Beneath the rot and veils of lies,
A seed of light prepares to rise.
Though shadows bind and chains confine,
The soul’s bright spark will yet outshine.

3. Souls enslaved by lies and fear,
But ancient light draws ever near.
Behind the veil of cruel disguise,
The phoenix waits to claim the skies.
When chaos rages, fierce and wild,
The spirit frees the inner child.

4. Cataclysm’s roar shakes the veil,
New dawn breaks — the spirits hail.
From ashes black, the truth will soar,
Unlocking every guarded door.
Though tyrants reign and darkness breeds,
The dawn is born from desperate deeds.



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



Whispers Beyond the Veil

Shadow beasts weave fate’s cruel thread,
Yet Spirit wakes where angels tread.
In veils of night, the darkness calls,
But deeper still, the silence falls.

Through shattered dreams and broken skies,
A whispered truth begins to rise.
Beneath the rot and veils of lies,
A seed of light prepares to rise.

Though shadows bind and chains confine,
The soul’s bright spark will yet outshine.
Souls enslaved by lies and fear,
But ancient light draws ever near.

Behind the veil of cruel disguise,
The phoenix waits to claim the skies.
When chaos rages, fierce and wild,
The spirit frees the inner child.

Cataclysm’s roar shakes the veil,
New dawn breaks — the spirits hail.
From ashes black, the truth will soar,
Unlocking every guarded door.

Though tyrants reign and darkness breeds,
The dawn is born from desperate deeds.
The wheel of ages spins with strife,
Yet light endures — eternal life.

So hold the flame within your chest,
Through storm and night, endure the test.
For in the depths where shadows play,
The Spirit finds a brighter way.



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



So-Called "Culture"

Clipped culture’s flashing light,
Comic-book minds in flight,
Vile lies and censored views,
Corruption, dulling the muse.

Madness sweeping all around,
Fear in every soul is found.
Evil’s patience spreads its field,
Betrayal’s work — vast and sealed.

It’s become the daily grind,
Fools by lies are led, confined.
Last traces of the sane erased,
These are times where beasts have paced.

Final days, the truth is shown —
For most, the herd’s a mindless drone.



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



Parasites and Parasite-Images

Parasite-images
Forever dwell in mind:
Many “cracked” all around —
Like guns, they mow the blind.

Lies and counterfeit visions,
Manipulation’s thread —
No end in sight; again demons
Mock the maddened herd.

Mass-produced for the crowd
Are tools to dumb, not build,
A new wave — these pillars
Of camps to trap the wild.

A world “two-in-one,” where goal
Is also means — insane.
The curtain’s fallen, truth unfolds —
Those images remain:

A filthy plague you cannot shed —
Hold on to them, and you’re as good as dead.



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




1.
Parasite images haunt the mind,
Dumbing crowds, enslaved and blind.

2.
Lies spin webs that never cease,
Madness thrives — no hope, no peace.

3.
Mass-produced chains for souls confined,
Trap the herd — enslave the mind.

4.
Can’t shake the filth inside your head?
Hold tight — you’re as good as dead.



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



Finishing the Task

I’m in the game, I’m in the fight — no need to ponder,
The choice is clear; there’s only one true wonder:
To marshal strength, cut mental noise to less,
Master of self, no need to second-guess.

I’ve always been my own command,
On this path I came to understand:
The past is dust, layer upon layer falls,
Into the abyss when the moment calls.

Experience sharp and fierce I gain —
Needed well to master the game.
The act is done, the stage well-played,
Now all that’s left is the final shade.

That final mark — it’s death’s release,
Enduring shame, finding peace.
Complete the task — embrace the close,
Meet death with joy, in light transpose.



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




Finish the fight — no time to stall,
One path, one choice — must risk it all.
Cut the noise, command your mind,
Death’s the gate — leave shame behind.

Task complete, the curtain falls,
Face the end — hear freedom’s calls.



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



So-Called "Civilization"

A fragile layer, thin and weak —
Scratch beneath that hollow streak,
This pathetic masquerade
Hides much filth in its charade.

Sensitive souls will quake in fright,
When spirit wakes to see the blight,
Decay is total, minds have died,
Souls consumed, nowhere to hide.

They hang their lies and laugh aloud,
Chanting spells to fool the crowd:
“This is civilization!” they say —
A march to slaughter on display.



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




Thin the veil, decay within,
Civilization’s hollow sin.
Souls are lost, the mind is dead,
Led to slaughter, blind and led.



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




A fragile mask of “civilized” decay,
Beneath it rot and filth hold sway.
Souls consumed in infernal night,
Minds extinguished, snuffed out light.

They string their lies, mock and sneer,
“Civilization” — a death march clear.
A herd led blind to slaughter’s den,
No hope, no mercy — just beasts, not men.



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




A fragile veil — “civilization” thin,
Beneath, the shadows creep within.
Decay, a dark and silent hymn,
Where souls are lost, and lights grow dim.

Infernal whispers claw the night,
Minds consumed by endless blight.
They weave their spells, a cursed thread,
Binding the living to the dead.

A death march cloaked in hollow guise,
The spirit’s flame, it slowly dies.
Led blindfolded through the veil,
To endless dark — no holy grail.



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




Beneath the fragile skin of “civilization’s” guise,
A hidden void where shadowed essence lies.
Decay seeps slow through cosmic veins,
Where spirit wrestles ancient chains.

Silent chants from realms unseen,
Bind the soul in webs between —
The waking world and depths below,
Where light and darkness ebb and flow.

A spiral dance of death and birth,
Unseen forces shape the earth.
Blind we march, the veils descend,
Toward the void where cycles end.



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



The End...

Tolerance turned twisted vice,
Perverse “norms” that spread like lice.
Fools enslaved by evil’s might,
******* breathing lies, not light.

No more bounds to sell-out’s reign —
Hell unleashed in dark domain.
Betrayal cloaked in “science”’s veil,
Spewing madness, wild and frail.

Half-truths passed, the rotten phase,
Gone beyond in insane haze.
The crowd whipped up — wild, unwise,
Sheep led blind with vacant eyes.

A virus of the sheep’s brigade,
War games played by Swab’s charade —
From the box, a rotten seal,
Final stage begins to peel.

The end is here — to purge the blight,
Of evil’s spawn and slaves of night.
Earth shall cleanse its tainted shore,
Lies will drown and plague no more.



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



The Pasture

In a world so bleak, the ties are weak —
Family, dens, friends doomed to shriek.
Yet ruling all are **** elite,
Who tell the odd to just endure defeat.

They bear it all with dull obedience,
Chains disguised as trivial needs' convenience.
Became the sheep, without a fight,
Marching to slaughter — no more light.

No need for weapons — screens command,
Driving herds with fear and lies at hand.
Enclosures turn to camps of dread,
Souls turned to dust — the pasture's spread.



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


The Talker

The Talker’s twin — a rare bird seen,
Unknown in history’s grim machine.
To guard the **** — the world’s demand,
Lest awful fiends retake the land.

A filthy actor in a cage,
Brought out to mouth his scripted rage.
The people — children craving lies,
Who choose to drown in fairy-tale skies.

That filthy pack decreed their fate,
The Kremlin’s brood, a cruel state.
Lies grow louder, bold and vile,
This clown just laughs, a sickening bile.



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



Schematic Minds and Critical Sight

The schematics of the mind cry out so loud,
Few paths remain to truths beyond the cloud.
It builds just “heavenly groves” so falsely bright
In this Inferno of the insane’s blight.

A mass of lies as “foundation” set—
These demons fool us, trap us in their net.
We stand upon the edge of spirit’s death,
Where worldwide fascism draws its breath.

But this global fascism’s not a fiend with guns,
It’s neighbors, coworkers—madman runs,
Brewing slow in crooked worlds that spin,
Where “facts” come from a **** of sin.

Propaganda, “science,” schooling’s lie,
A fist that strikes, and all comply.
Like sheep we march to slaughter’s call,
While running hamster wheels, trapped in the thrall.

So boldly trust your gut, be sharp, be wise,
Or in these falsehoods your spirit dies.
A pitiful self shaped by the lies’ embrace,
For everywhere reigns deceit’s cold face.



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



Self-Knowing

“Light” and DARKNESS drive one mad,
If you don’t see through on your own:
So much crap that’s been writ bad
By a ******* all alone.

Gullibility’s a heavy sin—
Turn your gut sense on to win!
Success will come if you don’t bite
Darkness’ “heaven” in the night.

That success is knowing dark—
Then LIGHT will find your searching heart.
Only minds that stay pristine
Let the Light break through the screen.

Madness reigns all round about,
So cleanse your mind—there’s no doubt.
Don’t drift off midst anxious thought—
Spot the sparks that Light has brought.

This Light lives always deep inside,
Outside, just its fleeting tide.
The world won’t wait for dawn to rise—
Beasts drown all truth in lies.

War and CowID have shown
How low this filth has grown.
They’ve reached the very bottom pit—
All else is oily worded grit.

But Knowledge is beyond mere speech—
Super-yoga’s goal to reach.
Avoid the fools and their lore,
Their theories **** the mind’s core.

These theories come from Hell,
Paid by Satan’s crafty spell.
They’ll lie more to break the floor,
Drag us all down to the core.

For words are beasts’ mighty power—
With them they wage the darkest war.

But what’s beyond the spoken spell
Is where the Soul’s true Alchemy dwells.
Don’t walk the Goat’s dark, crooked road—
Rush instead to Spirit’s abode!



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



The Path of Inner Knowing

Light and Darkness weave their snare,
Madness lurks if you don’t dare
Pierce the veil alone, to see
Truth beyond what’s forced to be.

Innocence is shattered sin—
Trust your pulse, the spark within!
Only those who don’t succumb
Will escape the shadow’s drum.

Darkness first must be embraced,
Only then is Light traced.
Pure minds open gates unseen,
Where Spirit dwells — eternal, keen.

Mad worlds howl with fractured cries,
Cleanse your mind, strip off the lies.
Amidst the chaos, still discern
Flashing sparks where soul can burn.

This Light, a fire deep inside,
Flickers past the worldly tide.
No dawn waits for those who drown
In the mud where fiends wear crowns.

War and plague have stripped the skin,
Revealing depths of shadow’s grin.
The abyss, where words run dry,
Speaks the truth that cannot lie.

True Knowing moves beyond the speech,
Yogic realms within your reach.
Turn away from hollow sheep,
Their lore is death; the mind, a heap.

These whispers come from darkest pits,
Paid by those who conjure myths.
Their lies crack worlds, and pull us down,
Dragging all to fate’s dark crown.

For words are chains, the tyrant’s tools,
Binding souls, creating fools.

But beyond that silent throne
Dwells the alchemy unknown.
Shun the goat’s crooked, cursed way—
Seek the Spirit’s light, the Day.



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



Self-Knowing

Light and Darkness twist the mind astray,
Unless you pierce their veils alone, you’ll stray:
The world is writ with lies—a venomed tome,
By hands corrupt, who claim to guide you home.

Gullibility — a sin that chains the soul;
Ignite your inner spark, reclaim control!
Success awaits not in the darkened snare,
But where the purest minds embrace the flare.

This Light resides within, a sacred fire,
Though shadows dance and tempt with false desire.
The world awaits no dawn — beasts drown in grime,
Yet war and plague have marked this cursed time.

In filth profound, the bottom’s cold and bare,
All else is gilded words — a hollow snare.
True Knowing lies beyond the tongue and speech —
A yogic path where mortal bounds beseech.

Beware the fools and prophets bought with gold,
Their twisted tales leave Wisdom cold and old.
Their words, a shroud to hide the deepest pit,
To drag the souls who seek beyond their writ.

Beyond all words — beyond the tyrant’s reign,
Awaits the alchemy of soul’s domain.
Forsake the goat’s dark path, ascend in grace —
To Spirit’s spheres — the sacred, boundless space!



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



The Path of Self-Knowing

Light and Darkness — twin serpents coiled within the mind,
Their hiss entwines the seeker lost, who fails to find
The thread of truth amid the endless, shadowed maze,
Where lies like poison drip and twist through endless days.

From ancient halls of wisdom’s crypt, the heralds speak:
“Beware the guile that softens hearts and makes them weak.
Ignite the flame — the sacred spark of inner sight,
Lest blinded souls embrace the darkness as their light.”

The sin of trust — a heavy chain that binds the soul,
But intuition’s voice can break the tyrant’s hold.
To walk the night is not to fall, but to ascend,
Where minds as pure as crystal through the dark transcend.

The Light dwells deep — a flame beyond the mortal veil,
Though outer worlds be drowned in chaos, lies, and pale
Reflections of the truth, corrupted, stained by strife,
The cosmos waits for those who seek the inner life.

War’s smoke and plague’s cold breath have marked the cursed age,
The filth beneath the surface hides the prophet’s cage.
Words empty as the wind — they haunt the halls of men,
Yet true enlightenment lies far beyond their ken.

The sacred path — a yogic flight beyond the tongue,
Where silence sings and boundless mysteries are sung.
Beware the charlatans who trade in false disguise,
Their silver tongues conceal the pit beneath the skies.

Their tales a shroud, their lies a veil to hide the deep,
They seek to drag the earnest down where shadows creep.
But those who dare to pierce the veil and walk alone,
Shall find the soul’s true flame — a light forever known.

Beyond all words, beyond the grasp of tyrant’s chain,
There lies the alchemy where spirit shall regain
Its throne — a realm where time dissolves in endless space,
And every soul returns to its eternal place.

Forsake the goat’s dark path of chaos and despair,
Ascend the sacred spheres, the boundless realms of air.
The Spirit calls beyond the veil of mortal strife,
To dance in cosmic fires and know eternal life.

So heed the call, brave seeker, cast aside the night,
Embrace the dawn within — the pure, transcendent light.
For only those who walk the lonely, winding way
Can pierce the veil and bring the light to endless day.

— The End —