Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Of which I promised this Forthcoming Gift
That Low-Resolved Program you often play
Mine of Sum's Direct robbed my Basics shift
Could make my Allowance afford one day
Till then, master those Memes and Squarish Crew
And ask your Score teemed to accumulate
I know you can do it, Technocrat Blue
And rake those Creepers down confusticate
Or shall I, along the mean, Journal's Writ
Ask for more Hints over Direction rough
You, Controlling-E, fly Normal's out-of-it
Conclude my Patience to nearly enough.
I'll trust the Swede with his Awards advance
Then I'll Trust you; With those Talents enhance.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
You Sir, Are An Electrician!


technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.



This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.

Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"

Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.

Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.

She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.

IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.

He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.

But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.

Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******.

She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:

You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,

Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.

Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Don't  believe a word of this, except for the downloading of IOS7.
I once saw my Brother in a Mirror
Begged half-score on a Verse; Now it came True
And so it did with my Attitude falter
Neglected the Duty I had for you
This I wanted Gold. God was indeed Frustrate
For the Trailing Ignorance I commit
My "I" the Traitour; In me such self-hate
For Pop's Face-Memos I saw in Good Bid
I was wrong. If the Clock-Father can reverse
And mend my Riches to renourish you
The Ethyl on your Hair; The Lamp on your Nurse
And all Bumps mended on your Friendship true.
You are the Technocrat sworn to a Vow
That you Love me Un-Conditioned somehow.
I wish you lower your Glasses a bit
Then try to witness what you have Ignored
For Praises Sundry are much apt to meet
Though such Configuration keeps you bored
That you, a Technocrat I'm not surprised
Such Mages and Bards you kindly eschew
For whatever Purpose which you advise
I'll take as the Brother I always knew
And I'll LOVE you still; No Set Values bake
Since your Blessed Genesis I do voice
This is not a Tomb; Nor white-painted make
But another Graced Name I will rejoice.
Now it's up to you, which you interpret
On Pop's Face-Memos the Meaning you get.
~
April 2025
HP Poet: Nishu Mathur
Age: 54
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Nishu. Please tell us about your background?

Nishu Mathur: "I was born in Delhi, a somewhat chaotic yet majestic city with an interesting and rich historic past. Had a lovely childhood and loving parents. Simple, honest and hard working folks. My late father was with Indian Airlines (senior executive management). My mum is a retired Professor. She taught in Delhi University for 41 years. I have a younger brother who is an economist/ professor. I spent a few years in NYC as a child in the 70s. Impressionable years. My love for reading started in school in NYC. We moved back to India in 1979. Did my undergraduate and Master’s in English Literature from Delhi University, St. Stephen’s College. I used to be a voracious reader. Read a lot till I was in school. Had finished reading most classics by the time I was in 10th grade. After that, I started reading contemporary works.

My husband is a technocrat. I have two lovely, kind-hearted daughters, one is an investment manager and the other, a budding lawyer. We love dogs. We had an adorable saintly pug, Now we have two incorrigible beagles.

I have travelled a bit. I have lived in Japan and Canada for a few years and have stayed in different cities in India. I have met incredible people from all over, experienced different traditions and cultures. Learned so much.

I used to teach once upon a time. I’ve also worked as a corporate trainer. Now I work as an editor and content creator for a non profit organization."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Nishu Mathur: "I wrote a bit as a child. Then for a little while around 2000. But finally, I really started writing when I took a break from work in 2011. Have been on this site for almost 9 years. I posted my first poem on Hello Poetry in 2016."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Nishu Mathur: "Nature — trees, flowers, the sun, the moon. A moment in time. Something I read that I love. Memories. Something around me that I notice that leaves an impact. I used to write happy-go-lucky, cheeky poems too. Really silly stuff. I once wrote a poem on Indian moustaches. On double chins. Mosquitoes. I wrote parodies. Would love to get back to writing poetry like I used to.

I mostly write when I am at peace. For the longest time I found it hard to express sadness and grief. But I think I am getting over that."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Nishu Mathur: "Poetry is my go-to-place. A friend, a companion. It is a feeling. It is catharsis. It inspires. It is an outlet for creativity. I am very happy when I am able to write something. I feel rejuvenated. Like I can breathe.

I have learned a lot about poetry over the years. Poetry has also given me an opportunity to know myself and others better.

A poem can say so much in a few words. We can all have our own takeaways and interpretations. Words become magical and beautiful when woven together in poetry. I find that fascinating.

I am not a big talker. So I find happiness and comfort in written words. Poetry helps me to connect with people — thanks to online websites such as HP."



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Nishu Mathur: "Rumi, Emily Dickinson, Vikram Seth, Maya Angelou, Ruskin Bond, Wordsworth, Yeats, Shel Silverstein, Pam Ayres. I love reading the work of fellow poets too."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Nishu Mathur: "Besides poetry, I enjoy music. I am trying my hand at painting. I love walking, going for long drives. I used to love travelling but haven’t been able to travel much these past few years. Love watching feel good, happy movies."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Nishu, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Nishu Mathur: "Thank you Carlo for Timetabling me and for your support. Grateful for the encouragement and inspiration I have received and continue to receive from this wonderful community of poets on Hello Poetry."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Nishu a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #27 in May!

~
andrew desantis Feb 2010
iv
i.
unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks
hypoactive cradle technocrat
evicting meaningful poach,
mendacious transcripts of
past events found in his
memoryless playhouse.
poplar crowd scribbles observations
outbound punch of laughter
sighs to the scrambled, ethnic
postgrad nation.
microfiche telegram exploits
meaning to deeper courtesies
current surrendered upon
entry.

ii.
psychotropic sustenance
fizz thru ***** vein corridor
secret mission lifestyle
learning fast in enormous packs of
tiny lies.
spew logic chagrin mediated
bloodstain; cerebus twitching
outside of beingself.

iii.
heart ceases,
sacred whitepaint moans.
o infidel,
strike thrice; a chord
binding us- nasty, *****
beads bleeding rich.
cloaked bushes tasting,
hisses cured human oaks;
tapered horns that sob,
casting waved heels.

iv.
dawn fallen, only concrete
possible now. separated by
thousands of what is not,
shocks disintricate; undwindling
patriots mailing lessness,
laughter sounds fetching
offband pitch.
You play the Cool Piper every Concert Noon
Change your Clothes; And the Tempo changes you
Why couldn't have I heard you Guys that soon
So I could strangle the Technocrat blue?
HA! I jest. Rarely do Gum-Humours speak
But when they do they leave a Mark aside
I guess this is no time to act so meek
When Spain's Wild Brother calls us for a Ride
And what a Ride! Many Blokes hitch a tug
Collecting Hot Dames they only knew for yonks
It's a Crazy Menu; But quite a hug
Some choose a Bellow; Others a *****-Tonk.
Long Sonnet Short, your Music is the Boom
Clean your Pipe well and hope to see you soon.
#underabanner
Sally A Bayan Jan 2014
"A Tribute To Nat Lipstadt"

Found myself leafing through
A luscious garden of poems,
Found some  lines worth dwelling on...
Read of a man
Who writes effortlessly
Who gives himself away, too often,
Too obvious, sometimes...
While he teaches us to write
About daily motions, daily commotions...
We learn these wise words from this man:
I quote...
"write about what we know best...
"we, all feel
we, all believe in
the primacy,
the rightness of I.
but then, one must begin to observe others..."

This man writes about simplicity...
Simple thoughts. simple truths...
"No complexity nor trickery employed..."

He reads all about sadness, tragedy,
All kinds of pain, depression,
Every emotion captured in his mind...
And so he tells us---
"Let's write of joy,
celebrate reunification, singularity,
of our place,
our happy collision,
our universal location.
For where you are,
I exist,
no where else."

When we run out of things to write,
He is always around to remind us- - -

"I lifted up my eyes to the mountains—
From where will my poetry come from?

From men.
From women.
From you-reminding me,
It is where it is, not where you are...

It is here in the unread tragedies,
The wails so plain, repetitive,
The screams that never cease, the
Poems, yours, that deserve ten thousand likes,
But die ignored, despite, my best efforts."

"Let the diet begin,
no more food for thought,
no more dreams

wrought and recorded,
permit the ambient calm
of the still of the night
that engulfs,
to harmonize with the flatline
dreamless sleep that the
mind monitor machine
etchingly, quietly records..."


He appeases our restlessness,
Through these golden thoughts from him- - -

"Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.
nobody knows the silences
kept in my treasure
box."


We can find ourselves in his poems,
If only we read on and on,
Let us find the time
To skim through his words,
And read between the lines:

"Some never find true love.
Some never experience
reckless abandon.
Some of us are
recklessly abandoned,
and never forget,
and never forgive."

"Most of us remain
unpublished, undiscovered,
unremarked, blanketed,
cloaked in bills to pay;

Living a triumvirate of
heart ache, loneliness, worry,
our normal table fare
consists
of hand to hand
into the mouth
combat MRE's,
we engage,
to survive,
just stay alive."

And, he tells us further, for our own sake:

"Be forever young n
humble;
Feel ancient and royal;
Ride tall in the saddle;
Do something nifty;
Take someone's hand unexpectedly.
Drive home in the slow lane;
Do the minimus;
Do the maximus;
Leave a book on a park bench;
Use pen n paper, write a letter;
Take a chance, make people laugh;
Barrel into contention;
Show mercy to the confused,
Show anger to the
abusers.
Bless a child with both hands;
Grasp your soul, thrown it down,
And raise a child to the sky
Straight up,
A continuum, you and they,
A ladder to heaven..."


To this great man, we would
like to say:

"You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal."

He has his eyes, his ears open,
Ever-compassionate,
Ready to help,
When we are like a river run dry,
When there is not a strand of hope
Left in our bodies...
Let us read his poetry,
It is a kind of music that...

"arrests and rests me,
miracle each time
I walk on its waters..."

So, let us go on and on,
Never get tired of
Picking up bits and pieces
Of these
Precious  poem crumbs
We gather all times
From his garden so green...
We bask in its paths
Brimming with pearls of wisdom,
Of unheard truths, from him,
We learned first times,
R-e-v-e-r-b-e-r-a-t-e-s
Loudly, in our ears,
In our hearts,
In our minds,
These golden Nat-ty poem crumbs.

(January 29, 2014  5:02 PM)

~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
My way of saying, "Thank you, Nat M. Lipstadt,  for your kindness to everyone, for always being around."
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
BLAST   —   direct focus on a terrorist virus
that swims in breath and touch,
in globules of spittle and ssnot see,
waiting to plant roadside RNA bombs
in nostrils—from flesh to newsflash fantasies

with

a Fear-O-Meter Lockdown grip
of Crisis Management Economics:
Gaslit Fiat economy crash test dummies
tested within psychosocioschizological
experiments of the psychobacteriological

transfer of power, control, and wealth—

stats data for thinktanks and simulations:
which strategies are best to get the peasants  
to willingly offer up their lives for an illusion
of safety and protection, what causes people
to remain compliant or to become renegades.

Capitalism, the revolutionary meant to usurp
Queens and Kings, corrupted into a negative
Technocratic Corporatocracy: a Royal Trash
death cult that feeds on its young, sacrifices
its youth to scams, wars, and stolen futures:

a Technocrat Herr Doktor drug pusher
that plies the skin of trial control groups
for the venom of Warpspeed fangs—wraps
its coil around a bundle of willow switches
supple with youth, its victims kept alive

as a fuel source to burn in the corporate engine, and kept weak enough to require another fix "For the betterment of the whole."

(Gaslighting fills mandated shower-coops:
"Trust us, you're sick, and it's your fault.")

Pollute people into isolation against an enemy that has never been truthfully isolated and purified—
an Orwellian leap of faith that breaks:
a crusher of foundational laws,
a crusher of critical thought and bones.

"Destroy (transform) your dreams, milestones, and livelihoods for your safety and protection. We are doing this for you. We care about you. These numbers, these awful numbers are your fault! You're to blame! It's all your fault!"

"Make sure to vote for me come next election."

As much as North America is a globalist,
the New World is also its own experiment.
Fortress North America: the Eugenicist Manager founded upon colonialism and slavery that outsources its crisis economics—
highly contagious, bit with its own snake oil,
an experiment observed to show symptoms
of AIDS, North America attacking itself
in many ways, symptoms of having been
grazed and groomed for decades

in contagion-based sociopolitical templates
that result in acquired bipolar autoimmune
disease: past enemies and geists attained
boosted immunity to defend, adapt—learned
to deflect Sun Tzu's Art of War into itself

with its own momentum. "Unrestricted
Psychological Warfare": a process of confusion and doubt that leads to the demoralization and dehumanization of the target enemy via the subversive tactics of propaganda plowing, cultural memetic warfare, the infection of economy, politics, military, scientific and educational institutions and systems—
cybertech and media espionage and warfare,
all of it leading to symptoms of extreme

polarization and social moral tribalism—
a decades-long psychological, physical
and spiritual draining of the enemy
into a weakened, toxic state, barely worthwhile to conquer fully. The enemy does the rest,

finishes itself off with:

Acquired (Red Auto)ImmunoDefiency Syndrome

Red CONtroll COVID-19 debt slavery—
pandemic crisis, CoVfefe crisis, energy crisis,
population crisis, climate crisis, racism crisis,
market crisis, war crisis, terrorism crisis,
ISIS is is cry sis in crisis and crisis
in crisis debt slavery to the State: Toadies

for the "New Normal" Big Pharma-Big Tech
mechanical heart engine that thrums
with a beat that Zooms in on, Zooms out from
false-positive test results amplified

and distorted into AIDS:

Amplified Information Distortion Syndrome

and

an Acquired ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome
in conjunction with a near-infinite number
of variables and determining factors—
an Auto-ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome of
body, mind, soul, and political systems
cruising along an acquired, contagious loop
of a negative-sense RNA socialist Autobahn—

highly contagious, highly experimental in
unprecedented moments of crisis and mirrors: reflections of reflections of reflections
amplified and bent
in sleight-of-hand misdirection and deflection with the virus holding a mirror's face outwards

while

an mRNA 'treatment' infects human cells
to conquer and command them to become
bomb making factories that create
SARS-CoV-2 S-proteins—yes, yes, "inactively" teach T-cells with double-think McCure-all bandAIDS to 'help' identify SARS-CoV-2 RNA. Understood. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction

(for the Terrorist within)

"Here's a fast-tracked vaccine that supposedly boosts the immune system that you're being commanded to weaken."

GMO sleeper cells and non-celled sequences
that can attain causality and symbiosis with
drug and antibiotic resistant organisms,
are sold as the cure that ills

and

misdiagnosed and misunderstood symptoms
of anything and everything
in-between that we've known and seen
are blamed on a laboratory Chimera:

the scapegoat terrorist virus designed
to be highly contagious and gentle to its host
for vaccine programs: Mary's Monster attaining the flame of life within
its Promethean host.

Who made who?

Who knew that the FDA NIH CDC
WHO-Fang North American China Flu Clan

flew the fear and media spread. "Wait for our
next update." Live TV, live virus

with billions of shortsighted treatments
adding ripples to an overflowing soup bowl
of trillions x trillions of RNA particulates,

inactive/active — off/on — negative/positive

Switch:

Spin PCR in the Petri dish:
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish!
What a lot of fish there are!

This one has a little yellow star.....

("Mission Accomplished")
1 17 2021
Frank Russell Apr 2016
Said the old farmer
to the big city technocrat,
"Small wonder you're so anxious -
a part of nature
that has forgotten nature
has lost its identity."



- fr
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
bah bah black sheep... ok... the black sheep knuckled you to sleep
and now you’re asking for directions using a map and not a satellite navigation
across europe, esp. tremendous in germany near dortmund
and the rhine cities getting confused... but that’s no reason
to drive with ease from new jersey to florida with a glum pickers' pride
en route... i can play the ‘i spy with my little’ game into midnight passing me and spare myself inventive optics -
like shadow like hallucination in consistency, both flimsy,
i can recognise the real filth from packaged recyclables
from the orient.
well there’s that and there’s old russell the schizoid affective
outside tesco drinking a bottle of old speckled hen
and talking about snowfalls... 3 / 4 years ago last time i spotted
saint clause... i slipped and imagined myself breaking a knee...
didn’t happen... what happened was was a clearer truth:
why this fake image stimulant... i cant’ watch the stars
but have to subconsciously watch candy crush?
it’s ****! i want the days within the insignia of war,
i don’t want my subconscious patented with candy crush,
i want the stars to remain... better an autocrat than a technocrat...
at least a human face... adolf touchy-feely,
here we go...
i imagine all those rivers of heraclitus concerning a coordinate
known as a waterfall... and post-humous exactness expressing peace...
then i spot picasso on the roof outside my bedroom window...
i support his elevation through evangelicalism from halo to angels wings...
you know what the three wise babylonians said...
you scared them to egypt you idiot announcing reign of the ditto,
you scared them them with myrrh, melchior you’re already close to malachi,
that will do... look at it... it’s babylonian already...
it’s a babylon of orthodox christianity (greek / russian), catholicism,
protestantism, baptists, pantheists and other offshoots
like being mormon!
well you can never make an omelette by the dozen involved
without asking the thirteenth egg: chicken or egg first? crucifix?! oh.
As it rained
A Rainbow was seen

My Angel
Spread its wings
Floating on the rainbow
Swinging lightly on the breeze
Whispered:

"The Final Judgement Day
Is about to arrive
The World
The universe
Is about to crawl inwards
Into the Black Hole of Evil
Whoever wishes to be saved
Can come with me"

There were only ten people
Who listened to the Angel
Every brain thought
Every intelligence explored

A Banker, A Technocrat,
A Politician, A Priest
A Vendor, A Manager
An Actor, A LOVER

Angel continued:
"only one can be my BELOVED"

Everyone raised their hand
And told the reason
Why they should be saved
- Except the LOVER

The Angel asked the LOVER
"Why don't you want to live?
Why didn't you raise your hand?"

The LOVER pleaded:
"I want to save my BELOVED
But my BELOVED is not here
I'm staying 1643 kilometers away
Can you go and save my BELOVED?"

The Angel smiled
"I'm riding this rainbow on the clouds
The breeze will take us there...
We'll pick up your BELOVED on the way"

A day later the world saw
The Angel riding the rainbow
With the BELOVED and LOVER
Into the heavens!
Michael Marchese Jun 2021
I don’t envy wealth
Redistribute its health
Comprehend its convenience
And savor the self
Long enough to destroy
At the end of fear
Void
Unemployed
Still deploying
My droids
Opioid
Like imperial fleets’
Archaeopteryx
Vision
All Rhodes of Colossus
Still bow in submission
To vanity’s
Villainy
Guilt
Contribution
The filth
Of free trade’s
Ethnic cleansing solution
The hack in the tax hiking
Ryker’s
Next door
We’re the youth who inherit
The engines of war
And will staff its advances
With hardwired sects
Of the next level
Technocrat’s
Spoiled execs
And we’ll show you
Who runs the world
Kids of the west
Michael Marchese Feb 2020
They say
We make better
The world
With each level
We add
To the sky-scraping
Business or pleasure
Purchased
Edifice
Houses us
In its midst
Of a million plus
Hastily
Working bees buzzing
To underground tunnels
Of loveless
Night-clubbing
With parks to roam free
And breathe easy
From smog,
From the dust
In our lungs
Of the rusting
Of cogs
In industrial districts
Resistant to changes
Of carbon foot-prince’s
Monopoly games
Played in technocrat hubs
As rat races in slums
Go unpaid
And still trade
On the stock market’s
Crumbs
But such bums
Are unsightly,
Unseemly,
Untidy
And so
Garbage trucks
Come dispose of them
Nightly
And rightly so
As we go
Higher and higher
To enter a state of mind’s
Timeless empire
Regardless how dire
The subjects below
Are presented on screens
And the terrors
They show
As some
Sanctuary
Reveries
Of perfection
To sympathy’s
Pitifully
Praying pretension
As if it were really
Our kids in detention
Suspended like bridges
Still spanning attentions
Of six-second sexting
Emoticons pressing
More hot-button issues
Than functions
Need stressing
Out more
Than elitists dread eating
And salad un-dressing
Progressing though always
An ever-ascension
These marvelous feats
Of our greatest invention
The New Formation Called "Education"

A tumor now grows from “enlightened” mutation —
Its metastasized roots poison thought to the core.
Through memory flows the cruel degradation:
Lies and confusion — the mind's mental war.

The leash is the system. Free thinking? Forbidden!
No sane thought allowed in this madhouse called Earth.
A digital camp where the humans are hidden —
Just numbers remain. No true mind can give birth.

Yet balance is simple: you're soul, you're not fiction.
Your mind must obey your true spirit alone —
Not dogmas imposed with relentless constriction.
Reject all the garbage they've carved into stone.

Then — comes the Pure Mind. It’s the soul that directs it,
Not vile little creatures that rot and enslave.
They've poisoned the world and with lies they infect it,
Till thought is entombed in a mindless mass grave.


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


"Education"

1.
They taught you to think — then erased every thought.
Now Truth is rebellion. Obey? You will rot.

2.
You're not just a number. You're Spirit — awake!
So burn all their lies. Let the system break.

3.
Pure Mind won't submit to their digital chains.
It rises through ruins. It spits on their brains.


4.
You call that a mind? It just parrots and begs.
A slave in a cage, with wires for legs.

5.
They kneel to their screens with a void in their chest.
Disciples of nonsense. Obedient. Blessed?

6.
So proud of your grades? You're a well-groomed machine.
A polished disgrace. A cog, nice and clean.

7.
"Educated," you say — yet you think like a tool.
A product of training. A well-mannered fool.

8.
Congrats on your brain — it's compliant and neat.
It boots when commanded. It ****** on meat.

9.
So wise with your jargon, so sharp with your trend.
Too bad it’s all garbage — impresses your friend.

10.
You've read all the books — but forgot how to see.
A genius, of course — with a brain made of ***.

11.
Such critical thinking! You Googled it twice.
A scholar, no doubt — if parrots count thrice.

12.
You mastered the test, you obey every bell.
Top of your class — in the School Made of Hell.


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


Verses for the Well-Educated Dead
(A Funeral Hymn for Minds in Suits)

Dedicated to the System that Made You
(and to all who dared to question — then didn’t)

1. The Graduate
You passed every test, you obeyed every rule.
Now kneel for your medal — Certified Fool.

2. The Thinker
You question so deeply — within the allowed.
A free-thinking drone, self-assured and proud.

3. The Reader
You swallowed their books with such hunger and grace,
But spat out your soul to maintain your “place”.

4. The Logician
You argue with style, you debate like a pro —
Yet never ask why the whole system's low.

5. The Star Pupil
Straight A’s, gold stars — what a brilliant disguise!
The corpse is still warm. Just ignore the flies.

6. The Speaker
Such eloquent words! Such articulate breath!
Your speech is a lecture. Your thought — is a death.

7. The Informed Citizen
You’ve read every headline, reposted each lie.
How noble you look — while the real ones die.

8. The Futurist
You praise all the upgrades, the neural implants —
Yet tremble at thought that your mind still chants.

9. The Empath
You cry for the climate, for whales and for trees —
Then clap as they chain every child to their knees.

10. The Rationalist
No gods, no myths — just logic and math.
Yet still you march blindly down somebody’s path.

11. The Model Student
They taught you to think — so you mimicked the tone.
Original thought? That’s best left alone.

12. The Proud Parent
Your child’s a machine — you must be so proud.
It beeps when it’s praised. It blends with the crowd.

13. The Careerist
You climbed every ladder, you kissed every shoe.
Now sit on your throne — made of numbers and glue.

14. The Skeptic
You scoff at all myths, yet worship the lab.
No gods for you — just a corporate slab.

15. The Philosopher
You ponder existence with textbook finesse —
While Life rolls her eyes at your layered BS.

16. The Ally
You stand with the people, you hashtag your rage,
Then rat out your neighbor to keep up your wage.

17. The Free Thinker™
You broke from tradition! You think for yourself!
As long as that thought is pre-packed on a shelf.

18. The Meditator
You’ve silenced your mind, you're serene as a cow —
But forgot to ask who is the silence now.

19. The Specialist
You know all the terms, you recite every code.
But can't see the cliff at the end of your road.

20. The Winner
You conquered the game — now you own your own cage.
Polished, expensive. Just don’t show your rage.

21. The Pacifist
You chant about peace with your eyes full of glass.
They kick in the door — and you thank them with class.

22. The Artist
Your art is so brave, so edgy, so paid.
Approved by the board. Mass-produced and displayed.

23. The Analyst
You mapped every trend, you compiled every chart —
But failed to locate your own shattered heart.

24. The Liberal
You're open to all, you believe in The New —
Except any truth that’s not funded and blue.

25. The Rebel
You scream in the square, then go clock in at nine.
Your protest is loud. Your compliance — divine.

26. The Mentor
You guided the youth, you shaped every mind —
Now each one’s a copy. Was that your design?

27. The Stoic
You suffer in silence. You swallow your fate.
But that’s not wisdom — just trauma dressed straight.

28. The Thinkfluencer
You publish deep thoughts, you go viral and trend.
But silence and depth are not things you pretend.

29. The Historian
You teach of the past — from an edited pile.
You quote every tyrant. But never their smile.

30. The Diplomat
You mastered the tone, you adjusted your face.
But truth never bends. And neither does grace.

31. The Technocrat
You digitized life. You reduced every soul.
Now watch the machine devour its own goal.

32. The Good Citizen
You vote. You recycle. You wave at the drone.
And never once ask: Why’s the sky made of stone?

33. The Funeral Prayer
So sleep, educated. So rest, certified.
The System is proud. It has nothing to hide.
No soul left to burn, no heart left to dread —
Just neat little rows of the well-educated dead.


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


GMO-People
(after a corporate ad)

"Today we’ve launched the 'Neo' line — each product carries a new idea. 'Neo' products: made to change your life!"
— from a TV commercial
(Next up: chauvinist, cosmopolitan, and adiabatic products — each with a matching idea.)


Products are “ideas.”
Ideas are “goods.”
The BEAST has careers
In rebranding hoods:

So fruits we become,
And veggies by name —
Their mission is dumb,
But winning the game.

Just fear and collapse,
All courage is dead.
A few break the traps —
Then vanish instead.

Ideas like pins
Are stabbed in the brain.
Each thought now begins
In poison and pain.

And so — GMO'd
This Human Design.
These ******* explode
Their **** into minds,

Then stir it with flair —
Result? No defense.
Hell’s real estate’s there,
Or bluntly: we're F#CKED.


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


GMO-People
(Short Version)

They sell us their lies,
They brand us as goods.
We’re poison, we’re slaves —
This world’s up in floods.


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


Commissioned “Research” of Pseudoscience

Ordering a fool from a killer —
An innocent enough affair.
Order “scientific” work —
And pseudoscience will prepare
A trap that blinds its victims,
Causing damage far and wide,
More than all the killers combined —
Used to be the lie was subtle inside.

Half-truths, forgeries, and blatant lies,
These gods of today, so sly.
Their venom stabs from youth’s embrace,
Poisoning minds, stealing grace.
Now the “scientist” is but a ****,
A charlatan — don’t listen, dum-dum.

Here’s the barrow-virus, a sign:
The vermin fall, to Hell they climb.
Commissioned frauds just drain the brain,
To justify the lies they claim —
And the inhuman ones request
Pseudoscience to prove the mess.
The **** will make it soft, you see,
But they’ll **** you — mercilessly.


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


Paddling for Yourself

Always paddle, paddle everywhere —
In Hell, all else is just a waste.
Shovel it in — keep it with care,
The only question’s what’s the pay.

Betray and sell, that’s your game,
Or payment’s a troublesome debate.
Be by the trough, never the same —
Harden your heart, leave nerves at the gate.

Be dumb, for the smart will emit
That “smell” which the beasts cannot stand.
With it, outside the trough, you’ll quit —
Bow to the filth with your hand.

Without flattery, you’re no one in Hell —
A ruthless selection, unyielding:
“Rise up,” they’ll say, “only to nothing”—
For only the Evil is pleading.


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


Paddling for Yourself
(Short Version)

Paddle, betray, and sell with grace —
In Hell, there's no other place.
Be dumb, be vile, do what you must —
Bow to the filth or die in dust.
The Total Classifier of Delusional Reality


A monstrous fraud-classifier
Has crept through every crack—
This world, like torn-out wiring,
Is shredded, shelf by rack.

The whole complex existence
Now sorted, filed, and tagged.
And thought—stripped of resistance—
Lies broken, bound, and gagged.

For all is One, eternal,
Yet man, from age to age,
With pseudo-science infernal
Divides the sacred page.

What’s whole gets split and scattered
By minds that crave control—
And caught in nets long tattered
Is his own fractured soul.

These nets are hell’s invention,
To sever and enslave—
What once was Love’s dimension
Becomes a devil’s grave.

A garden, undivided—
Its trees, its grass, its flowers—
Was never meant to be chided
By minds drunk on dark powers.

The world is whole, unbroken
When thought is pure and free.
You're more than flesh—you're spoken
From soul’s infinity.

And thought is not the master—
The brain just plays its role.
So dare to ask, and faster:
Is this your final goal?

This *******—does it suit you?
A beast, a branded thing?
How long will lies pollute you
And falsehoods proudly cling?

The arrogance grows louder—
A virus built on lies.
The screen spews bile and powder
While demons feast in guise.

But if your mind stays centered
With others who still see—
They’ll not have you dismembered,
They'll never muzzle me.

If freedom still has meaning—
Then grasp this, plain and true:
Division is the sin demeaning,
That makes a sheep of you.

And that is why these vermin
Classify all they scan—
To fuel the fake and sermon
That blinds the soul of man.

Soon every soul will slumber
On shelves of coded night,
If all believe this lumber—
The devils dressed in white.



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



1.
Divide us, brand us, shelf us all —
That’s how the soulless gain control.

2.
Their science lies, their virus kills —
And sheep obey what darkness wills.

3.
You are not stock for coded pens.
Break every cage — or serve their ends.




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



1.
The Science™ knows! So hush, obey —
And let them file your soul away.

2.
They measured truth with plastic brains,
Declared: “It fits in test-tube chains!”

3.
Big Science labeled grass as threat —
It's now a class C alphabet.

4.
They split the world to make it neat —
Then wondered why it smells like meat.

5.
“No soul detected,” said the scan —
“Just cells that think they’re more than man.”



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



1.
The virus thinks, the screen decides —
“Science confirms!” the madness rides.

2.
No proof? No stress! Just sternly say:
“The Science states — now kneel and pray.”

3.
Your brain’s infected — not with bugs,
But broadcast truths from labcoat thugs.

4.
Lies go viral. Then endorsed —
By science-stamped Ministry of Forced.

5.
“Approved by Science,” barked the screen —
While corpses smiled on the vaccine.

6.
No tests required, no need for proof —
Just say “The Science™!” — instant truth.

7.
Your mind is safe! Relax, submit —
The zombiobox has babysit.




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



Monologue of the Chief Affirmator
(From the Institute of Undisputable Facts)

Good day, citizens!
No need to think — we’ve already done it for you.
You’ve been accepted
Into the ranks of those
Who agree by default.

Proof? That’s outdated.
We — affirm.
Because Science has spoken.
And you — stay silent.
Silence, by the way,
Is now the highest form of agreement.
Scientifically proven.

We’ve measured your anxiety
On the official Screen-Trust Scale™.
Diagnosis: you're restless —
Because you don’t trust the virus enough.
But don’t worry:
After three news reports
And one expert frown,
You’ll be corrected.

Correctness is fear.
But structured, scientific,
With graphs and a QR halo.

Everything is classified:
— Proper fear: encouraged.
— Doubt: a dysfunction.
— Evidence: obsolete.
— Pseudoscience? Only that
Which lacks approval from our sponsors.

Oh, and by the way:
A new strain of fear is arriving soon.
Don’t forget to wear your respect.
Also known as a muzzle.
Also known as reason.
Also known as your scientific obedience.

And please — no thinking.
We’ve pre-thought everything for you —
In convenient format.
With a truth subscription.
And a shot against critical thinking.

This briefing is now complete.
But truth continues in our next broadcast.



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


Belches

Dedicated to Stefan Lanka — a brave warrior against pseudoscientific darkness


You cough — and you're “sick”?
An “idiot” sneezes —
And someone gets bricked?
This madness increases!

There are no viruses —
Lanka proved that.
But now, the horizon’s
A new wave of crap.

The herd still believes
The sellout brigade —
A cult of "healers"
In masks on parade.

No proof, no defense —
Truth's thrown out the gate.
Now only deception
And treason await.

Don't trust these creatures —
They all serve the beast.
The fascist grim features
Snarl at the feast.

Stand up. Don't obey.
Find minds that are free.
The Spirit holds sway —
Burn every ****** “degree”!

The books have been poisoned,
The food and the streams —
The cause of disease?
You believed their sick dreams —
Now you rot in their schemes.



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



1.
Science says?
No proof, no facts —
Just masks and threats
And pharma contracts.

2.
They sold you fear,
You bought a cage.
Now burn their lies —
And turn the page.

3.
Belief in germs
Killed half your brain.
Wake up, my friend —
Or die insane.

4.
No proof. Just rule.
No mind. Just drool.
Obey the screen —
You perfect fool.

5.
A sneeze. A mask.
A lockdown script.
Obedient cattle —
Microchipped.



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



1. Spiritual enslavement
Poisoned books and minds confined,
The spirit crushed, the soul declined.
Fake gods rule, the truth erased —
Rise up now, or be disgraced.

2. Zombification of the masses
Feed the herd with lies and fear,
Dumbed down masses cheer and sneer.
Thought enslaved, controlled, confined —
Wake the brain or lose your mind.

3. Revolt of the mind
Break the chains, ignite the fire,
Fight the lies that build the pyre.
Truth’s a blade, cut through the fog —
Rebel soul, reclaim your god.



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



The Tragedy of Laplace

When asked why Laplace allowed
Doctors in the Academy’s fold,
Though medicine’s no science true,
He said: “So they might talk with you.”

Laplace’s curse — eternal blight,
Dragging dumb crowds into light?
At first a joke, now fascism’s grip,
Filth spreads, and minds start to slip.

Burn that **** like witches old,
Doctors turned to fascist cold.
Small rewards, but deadly game —
Needles ****, and none to blame.

So-called “Psychotherapy”
Psychotherapy — rotten frauds,
Greedy “docs” with money gods.
False premises in pseudo-science,
Serving demons, not alliance.

They claim no lies, no twisted thought,
Yet fools their vicious battles fought.
Madness grows from freakish spawn,
True minds steer clear or they’re gone.

All within — yourself explore,
Simple methods, soul’s deep core.
Introspection’s sacred art,
Not vivisection tearing hearts.

Steps are simple, path is tough,
World’s too dumb, and lies are rough.
Spirit’s base — the only way,
If you serve greed, you’re led astray.



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



Laplace’s Tragedy — Sharp Strike
Doctors in the Science hall?
Laplace knew the farce and all.
Medicine’s a crooked game —
Fascist pigs who burn our flame.

Needles **** — no justice there,
Silent screams choke poisoned air.
Masses fooled, their minds enslaved,
Science sold, the truth depraved.

Psychotherapy — Brutal Blow
Fake shrinks pocket cash and lies,
Feeding madness, killing wise.
Spirit crushed, dumb sheep obey —
Greed’s slaves in a devil’s play.

Soul’s path crushed by shallow scams,
Brains enslaved in twisted jams.
Fight inside, or drown in slime —
Slaves to greed, lost all in time.



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


Laplace’s Tragedy

Medicine’s a farce.
Doctors ****. Silence screams.



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



Psychotherapy

Shrinks lie, souls die.
Greed rules, truth bleeds.



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


Laplace’s Tragedy

Medicine?
Killers.
Silence.



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


P­sychotherapy

Lies.
Souls.
Greed.
Death.



---------------------­



Age of Degeneration

Renaissance or rotten fall?
Total lies, degradation’s call.
Dark fact, but one small twist:
In that age profane the gist.

Spirit smashed — a brutal rod,
Beating kids in schools, so flawed.
Monsters broke a sacred wall:
Mind without the Spirit — fall.

Since then all profanation —
Fake science, fake salvation.
Minds sunk deep in dull decay,
Life enslaved, led far astray.

Mind must serve the Spirit true,
Unconditionally pursue.
But dull fools seized the throne,
Knowledge cast aside, alone.

Truth now only poets sing,
Spirit’s voice, a fragile wing.
World’s a filthy cesspool, see —
**** impose their "truth" on me.




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



Age of Degeneration

Renaissance? No, rotten rot!
Lies that choke the common lot.
Spirit crushed with iron rod —
Schools beat kids with Godless fraud.

Monsters cracked the sacred dome,
Mind without the Spirit — tomb.
Fake science, fake salvation,
Feeding dull decay’s inflation.

Dumb fools grabbed the throne of thought,
Truth betrayed, forever bought.
Poets fight, the last bright flame,
While **** declare their filthy claim.

World’s a sewer, pure and vile —
Truth ***** by the demon’s smile.
Chains of lies, the masses crawl,
Spirit dead, but fools still bawl.

Mind must bow to Spirit’s fire,
Or rot in falsehood’s mire.
No more mercy — time to burn
This cesspool’s twisted, sickening urn.



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



Age of Degeneration

Renaissance? **** that lie!
Rot and filth that kills the mind.
Spirit crushed beneath their boots —
Schools breed dumb, obedient brutes.

Monsters smashed the sacred gate,
Mindless slaves accept their fate.
Fake science, **** religion,
All are tools for mind’s derision.

Stupid ***** seized throne of thought,
Truth betrayed, forever bought.
Poets fight the last pure flame,
While **** **** on truth and name.

World’s a sewer, full of **** —
Truth’s been ***** by demon’s wit.
Chains of lies choke every breath,
Spirit crushed, a slow, cold death.

Mind must bow to Spirit’s fire,
Or rot in lies and deep desire.
No mercy now — let fires burn,
Time to watch this cesspool churn.

**** the liars, **** the frauds,
Fools who worship twisted gods.
From the ashes, Spirit rise —
Burn the filth, expose the lies!



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



The Cyclomatic Theorem of Lies — Proof by ******* Chaos

I proved the formula —
Cyclomatic core of sin.
A three-part hypergraph of lies,
Where faith’s a hollow din.

All cycles are just loops,
Where truth bleeds out like blood.
Three full parts of lies —
The scheme of death and mud.

Psychology’s a shame,
Diplomas smeared in dirt.
Proofs of lies overflow —
Science? No, just hurt.

Lies run in cycles,
Impossible to break.
But my formula burns,
A code no lies can fake.

I’m a coder with spirit,
Tearing false nets down.
Truth lives deep inside,
While lies wear the crown.

Let the system crumble,
Burn down all the shame.
My verse’s algorithm
Will bring enemies to blame.



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



Lies run forever —
An endless loop consumes.
Devouring every byte,
Killing truth’s small blooms.

No escape from error,
System’s choked and dies.
Truth trapped in recursion —
While the fake world lies.



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



The Cyclomatic Theorem of Lies

I proved this ******* formula —
Cyclomatic core of ****,
Three-part hypergraph of madness,
Where truth’s a ******* myth.

Cycles chained in endless torture,
Truth trapped in recursion’s hell,
Lies breed like ******* cancer,
In the system’s broken shell.

Psychology? A sick joke,
Diplomas soaked in lies.
Science sold for filthy cash,
While reason slowly dies.

The code’s a poisoned virus,
Burning all we hold dear.
The system chokes on *******,
Swallowing truth with fear.

I’m a coder wielding fire,
To crash this ****** machine.
Truth’s the weapon in my hand,
Cutting through the obscene.

Let the empire rot and crumble,
In ashes, let it drown.
My verses are a nuclear strike —
Blowing their fake crown down.



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



Infinite Dead Loop of Lies

Lies spiral in recursion —
Truth trapped, nowhere to flee.
The system’s dead inside —
Choking on deceit’s disease.

No reset, no reboot —
Just endless death in code.
A ******* dead loop kills —
Truth crushed beneath the load.



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



Conceptual "Thinking"

All concepts are limited —
Only useful in part.
The mind, like iron Felix,
Stands firm — but then will start

Crunching down on indicators,
More work or less they seek.
The world’s far more complex,
Than concepts make it seem weak.

The herds are dumb and docile —
Like military slaves.
All concepts — soulless lies,
Hence fascism enslaves.

Spirit is the primal force,
While matter’s just a mask.
Pseudoscience is superstition,
To crush the herds at last.

The shepherd’s just a front,
Satan’s aim is deeper.
The rabble won’t understand,
Their concepts turned to creeper —

Smearing everything with ****,
Creating upside-down.
Wake up before it’s too late —
Stop worshipping this plague around.

In plague-ridden camps,
The earthly cities drown.
They listen to the vile lies —
For centuries, not a short round.

Spirit reigns supreme.
Mind obeys the soul’s call.
If not — then put out the light,
For beasts like lice will crawl.



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



Conceptual "Thinking"

Concepts all are limited—
Useful? Barely so.
The mind’s like iron Felix,
Crunching, grinding slow.

Chasing hollow indicators,
Work more, or less—who cares?
The world’s too deep and twisted
For dumb, blind herds and snares.

Sheepish, dumb, obedient—
Like soldiers, locked in line.
All concepts? Soulless poison,
Fascism by design.

Spirit’s first, matter’s fake—
Just shadows, lies, and games.
Pseudoscience is pure superstition,
A tool to break the chains.

The shepherd’s just a mask—
Satan’s goal runs deep.
The **** won’t understand,
Their concepts crawl and creep—

Smearing truth with filth and slime,
Turning all upside-down.
Wake up, or drown in plague—
Stop worshipping this clown.

Plague camps spread, cities rot,
The world obeys the slime.
They swallow lies for centuries,
Not hours, not a dime.

Spirit rules, mind obeys—
Or else extinguish light.
Lice and beasts will crawl and swarm,
In endless, endless night.



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


In Memory of Nikolay Kozyrev

The mystery of phenomena
That TIME itself bestows—
Beyond all logic’s reach,
A world ABOVE TIME grows.

It fights the entropy,
Reverses usual flow,
The ones who catch its signals
Are few, but they do know.

Extreme, forbidden wonders—
No place for fraud and sham,
They shake the racks of liars,
Expose the con and scam.

Prophecies and visions,
Telekinesis’ force,
Beyond bold logic’s borders—
A path that charts new course.

There time, a magic power,
Lifts falsehood’s crushing weight,
And sparks the rarest changes
In minds that seek their fate.

To dull fools, all this is nonsense—
Their “knowledge” stale and dead.
But those who dare awaken
Will rise beyond the dread.



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



Executioners of the Mind

Nikolay Kozyrev, 1937,
Arrested on a twisted claim:
For trying to steal the Volga West—
A “crime” to shame his name.

Stealing the Volga to the West?
The sentence—ten long years.
The nation’s best destroyed with lies,
Pushed masses drowned in fears.

Today, the same old **** remain—
Their filth displayed in full.
No change, no growth, just endless war
Against the mind’s own pull.



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


Executioners of the Mind

Kozyrev, ’37—arrested, framed,
For “stealing Volga” westward bound.
A monstrous farce, a ****** disgrace,
A sentence crushing genius down.

Dragging down the nation's finest flame,
With lies and fear they poison all.
The mob devours truth like carrion—
While puppets dance to power’s call.

Same vile ****, unchanged, unbowed,
Through centuries of mental war.
Their poisoned claws still tear and maim—
Destroying minds to keep control.

The brain’s own killers wear no masks—
They’re kings of darkness, fear, and grime.
They smother light with iron fists—
Condemned forever by their crime.



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



Executioners of the Mind

Kozyrev, ’37—arrested, framed,
For “stealing Volga” westward bound.
A monstrous farce, a ****** disgrace,
A sentence crushing genius down.

Dragging down the nation's finest flame,
With lies and fear they poison all.
The mob devours truth like carrion—
While puppets dance to power’s call.

These executioners wear no shame—
Their hearts a void of greed and spite.
They choke the light, they **** the flame,
Enslaving minds to endless night.

Their tools are fear, deceit, and chains—
Brainwashed crowds and silenced screams.
They ****** thought, they crush all gains,
Drown freedom’s voice in poisoned streams.

They breed confusion, force submission,
Invent false wars to blind the gaze.
Destroy the wise with cold precision,
And drown the world in endless haze.

No soul is safe, no truth allowed,
No rebel mind escapes their grasp.
Their kingdom built on lies and blood—
A hellish cage, a tyrant’s clasp.

For centuries they wage their war—
Against the spark of human will.
But every time they close the door,
The spirit breaks and rises still.



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



Executioners of the Mind

Kozyrev was arrested in ’37,
For stealing Volga — absurd charge given.
"Dragging river West" — the verdict’s pain,
Decade lost to lies and chains.

Killing the nation’s brightest flame,
Feeding masses with endless shame.
Today’s no different — **** still reign,
For centuries, war with brain.

They’ve not changed, these ruthless fiends,
In shadows cast, they pull the strings.
Against the Mind — eternal fight,
Dark puppeteers rule the night.




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



Executioners of the Mind

Kozyrev, ’37 — accused, destroyed,
For “stealing Volga,” crime absurd.
Today — total control,
Muzzles on the masses, stifled souls.

Streams of lies — poison’s flood,
A cowardly world enslaved by fear.
Pandemic — shadow play,
Truth is gone, only lies appear.

Executioners of mind in white coats,
Propaganda shoved into every home.
Fakes, tests, forced submission —
Virus of lies that breaks the dome.

All sciences sold for cash,
Humanity — a herd of dogs.
Viruses of genes and ideas,
Flashes of doom for all of us.

In schools they break young souls,
Genetics under the blade of lies.
They dull the core, they mute the mind —
To run powerless into the blind.

Executioners of new age do not hush,
From top to bottom — ruthless press.
Genocide of thought — a quiet scream,
Endless loop of lies and progress.

Satan in technocrat’s disguise,
Preaching “new order” in the lies.
But rebel spirit tears the chains,
Soon it will burst all their lies.

All the false plays of power break,
Cutting freedom’s shining light.
And mind’s executioners will fall,
When dawn will finally strike the night.



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


The Razor Truth-Bearer

He found the blade inside the vial,
Graphene shards like razor’s smile,
Slicing veins, unseen, concealed—
The silent war the liars wield.

Spoke aloud what none could face,
Exposed the poison in their race.
Too sharp the truth, too cold the light—
They silenced him in darkest night.

No justice served, just whispered threats,
The shadow pulls, the terror nets.
A martyr lost to greed’s domain,
Where science bleeds, and lies remain.

His name erased, but not the pain,
The struggle burns, defies the chain.
In silence now his voice resounds—
A blade that cuts through all their rounds.



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


Veterinary *****

We wear our muzzles tight,
And pump that toxic ****.
Who dares to stand and fight —
Their fate is sealed, they quit.

We jab them down by force,
To save our precious skin.
No need for will or course —
Freedom? We’d just sink in.

We only want the doc,
And cops to keep us tame.
Our genius? “Procter”’s stock —
We’ll raise his ****** name.

A monument we’ll build
For pushing all that junk.
Life’s simple, hearts fulfilled —
A paradise, no bunk.

We’re all just imbeciles,
A fool leads with a grin.
We stockpile health and pills,
Don’t poke us, don’t begin.

Dissent? Just sit and shut,
Don’t stink or stir the mess.
With needles, we construct
Our “heaven” in distress.

And all who disagree —
We’ll **** them off real soon.
Then life will be carefree —
Beneath this blood-red moon.



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



Veterinary *****

We drag our muzzles tight,
Inject their poison’s spite.
Oppose? You’re wrong, you’re dead—
Your fight is burned and shred.

We force the toxic jab,
“Saving” us with their stab.
Forget your rights, don’t speak,
Freedom’s just for the weak.

Only cops and docs,
Run this sick, twisted show.
“Procter” leads the flocks,
A monument of woe.

Praise the poison pusher,
Who feeds us all this filth.
Life’s ****, but get used to it—
Welcome to their hellish quilt.

We’re dumbed down, led blind,
A fool’s the one in charge.
Stockpiling health confined—
Don’t poke the barbed barge.

Dissenters? Shut your trap,
Or drown in their disease.
Needles build their trap,
Our “heaven” on its knees.

All rebels will be crushed,
Their voices torn and stilled.
Then we’ll live dead and hushed—
By tyrants’ iron will.



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


“The Cure”

Not to heal — just “treat” nonstop,
No breaks, no mercy, no escape.
“Can’t live without it,” lies nonstop —
The doctor’s game’s a ruthless scrape.

He “treats” the fools who buy the schemes,
While rot spreads thick and silence reigns.
Fear shackles voices, kills their dreams,
A world trapped tight in shadowed chains.

Now doctor’s gone veterinary,
Dogs get papers, stamped and sealed.
Better than the old prisons —
A sanitary hell revealed.

They hook up chips to fools’ veins,
Inject their nano-mind control.
Reason killed, stripped of all brains,
Souls flayed raw, a crushing toll.

Dr. Mengele’s back in play,
Running this grim, twisted show.
Time has come — the **** must pay,
And in the fire, all must go.



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



“The Cure”

Not to heal — just jab and shove,
Endless lies they shove down throats.
“Without this shot you’ll never love!”
The doctor’s grip’s a steel-clad moat.

He treats the fools who swallow lies,
While rot devours the silent throng.
Fear locks jaws and blinds the eyes,
The weak bow down — the herd goes wrong.

Now dogs get papers, marked for death,
No difference from camps of old.
Nano-chips invade the breath,
Mind enslaved, the soul sold cold.

Mengele’s ghost commands the scene,
Torture masked as “care” and “heal.”
Time to purge this filthy spleen —
**** the vermin, break the seal.




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



“The Cure”

Not to cure — just shove that ******* needle,
Endless ******* fed like ******* gospel.
“No shot? Then die, you’re ******* feeble!”
Doc’s a *******, locked in iron castle.

He feeds the dumb who swallow lies,
While **** corrodes the silent mass.
Fear clamps jaws, blinds every eye,
Weak ***** kneel — herd’s dead in the grass.

Now dogs get papers, tagged to die,
No better than those old-*** camps.
Nano-chips crawl in your veins, don’t lie —
Mind and soul ripped, dumped in the scamps.

Mengele’s spawn runs this sick show,
Torture dressed as care and cure.
Time to burn this ******* low,
**** the vermin — make it pure.



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



Executioners of the Mind — The System’s Design

We haul the Volga westward, chained,
Ten years sentenced — no shame retained.
A nation’s blood to poison deep,
To feed the herd the lies they keep.

Still now, as then, the **** parade,
Their war on reason, centuries made.
Not rogue mistakes — a system’s hand,
A hellish web across the land.

They choke the truth, enslave the brain,
Propaganda’s cruel domain.
False science weaponized to ****,
The System grinds, unyielding still.

The rulers wear their masks of lies,
To crush the light that dares to rise.
No flaws, no glitches in this game —
A perfect, ruthless, grinding flame.

The puppeteers pull every string,
To trap us in their deathly ring.
They sell us chains, disguised as keys,
And feed us poison with disease.

So scream, revolt — the time has come,
To tear apart this web of ****.
Not errors, no — the System’s art,
A ****** dance to break the heart.




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



Executioners of the Mind — The System’s Shitshow

We drag the Volga west, no *****,
Ten years locked down, the system *****.
They slaughter nations, feed the herd,
With ******* lies and twisted words.

Same filthy *******, same old game,
Waging war on reason’s flame.
No fuckups here — it’s all by plan,
This ******-up system rules the land.

They choke the truth, enslave the brain,
Propaganda’s ******* reign.
Fake science used to **** us all,
The system grinds — a ruthless thrall.

The ruling **** wear masks of lies,
To crush the light that dares to rise.
No bugs, no flaws, just cold command,
A ******* death-machine’s demand.

Puppeteers pull every string,
Lock us in their hellish ring.
They sell us chains as shiny keys,
And poison deep in disease.

So scream and fight — the time is now,
To rip this shitshow down somehow.
Not mistakes, no ******’ art —
The system’s blood-stained broken heart.



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


Executioners of the Mind

Drag the Volga west — ten years in chains,
Nation slaughtered slow — blood on the trains.
******* liars spin their twisted games,
Feeding masses ******* — spreading flames.

Same old ****, the cancer’s deep,
Waging war on thought while we all sleep.
No fuckups here — it’s all designed,
A hellish system, cold, unkind.

Truth choked tight, lies fed nonstop,
Science murdered, bodies drop.
Masks of lies, fake smiles, fake law,
******* puppets, claws in the jaw.

This world’s a cage, they hold the key,
Poisoned needles, tyranny.
Chains sold cheap, freedom’s a joke,
Truth burned down, silence spoke.

So scream and rage — it’s do or die,
Rip the mask, expose the lie.
Not ******’ glitches, it’s the plan —
System’s heart’s a bleeding man.



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


Executioners of the Mind (Expanded)

Drag the Volga west — ten years in chains,
Nation slaughtered slow — blood on the trains.
******* liars spin their twisted games,
Feeding masses ******* — spreading flames.

Same old ****, the cancer’s deep,
Waging war on thought while we all sleep.
No fuckups here — it’s all designed,
A hellish system, cold, unkind.

Truth choked tight, lies fed nonstop,
Science murdered, bodies drop.
Masks of lies, fake smiles, fake law,
******* puppets, claws in the jaw.

This world’s a cage, they hold the key,
Poisoned needles, tyranny.
Chains sold cheap, freedom’s a joke,
Truth burned down, silence spoke.

Systems grind like rusted gears,
Feeding fears, confirming tears.
Not a glitch — a brutal plan,
Crushing souls, breaking man.

Executioners wear suits and ties,
Smiling snakes with venom eyes.
No random fail, no accident,
Just cold machine — the mind’s torment.

Truth’s a threat, so cut it loose,
Feed the herd the ******* juice.
System’s core: control and ****,
Bleeding minds beneath the drill.

So rage, revolt, or drown in shame,
This dance of death, this twisted game.
But know it’s not just rotten luck —
It’s systemic ****, the poison pluck.



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


Executioners of the Mind (System’s True Face)

Drag the Volga west — ten years in chains,
Nation slaughtered slow — blood on the trains.
******* liars spin their twisted games,
Feeding masses ******* — spreading flames.

Same old ****, the cancer’s deep,
Waging war on thought while we all sleep.
No fuckups here — it’s all designed,
A hellish system, cold, unkind.

Truth choked tight, lies fed nonstop,
Science murdered, bodies drop.
Masks of lies, fake smiles, fake law,
******* puppets, claws in the jaw.

This world’s a cage, they hold the key,
Poisoned needles, tyranny.
Chains sold cheap, freedom’s a joke,
Truth burned down, silence spoke.

Graphene blades in fake “vaccines,”
Blood runs thin, torn by machines.
Whistleblowers killed and erased,
Their warnings lost in the lies they’ve traced.

A modern Mengele’s carnival,
Playing god, the final fall.
Nano-chips and death in vials,
Mass control through toxic trials.

Systems grind like rusted gears,
Feeding fears, confirming tears.
Not a glitch — a brutal plan,
Crushing souls, breaking man.

Executioners wear suits and ties,
Smiling snakes with venom eyes.
No random fail, no accident,
Just cold machine — the mind’s torment.

Truth’s a threat, so cut it loose,
Feed the herd the ******* juice.
System’s core: control and ****,
Bleeding minds beneath the drill.

So rage, revolt, or drown in shame,
This dance of death, this twisted game.
But know it’s not just rotten luck —
It’s systemic ****, the poison pluck.



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



Intuition of True Knowing

A sensitive sail tenses — the ear,
And stupid mind derails so clear:
True knowing’s purely INTUITIVE.
Strict logic? Nature finds it repulsive.

Complex webs beyond the brain,
Amid the clouds of foul disdain —
“Education,” propaganda lies,
Controlled by vile gang’s disguise.

THE FILTH that rules this world with greed,
Feeds on sameness, scheming creed.
Go only INWARD — thirst for soul,
Not quenched by popes or scholars’ role,

The ****** who serve the creeping beasts,
The crafty liars — market priests.
Forgeries and fakes they spread,
To **** the Pure Mind’s thread.



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



The ShitIceberg


A goat in gold commands the pit —
While talking heads just scream and spit.
You call this life? It's death disguised.
Wake up — or rot, lobotomized.

— The End —