yours is the music for no instrument
yours the preposterous colour unbeheld

—mine the unbought contemptuous intent
till this our felsh merely shall be excelled
by speaking flower
                      (if I have made songs

it does not greatly matter to the sun,
nor will rain care
                      cautiously who prolongs
unserious twilight)Shadows have begun

the hair’s worm huge,ecstatic,rathe….

yours are the poems i do not write.

In this at least we have got a bulge on death,
silence,and the keenly musical light

of sudden nothing….la bocca mia “he
kissed wholly trembling”

                              or so thought the lady.

A kilo of fish brinjal pumpkin
Cauliflower raisin and bean
Washing soap and eggs one crate
Need to buy bring from market!

Mustard oil some milk and rice
Cashew nut and a horde of spice
Gourd and potato spinach cabbage
The list is long fills a page!

Feel confused from where to start
How to pile and stack on a cart
Shoeshine cream to adhesive glue
All calculations and maths to do!

Ticked what’s got unticked what’s not
Cash dwindles with much unbought
Trudge back home in sweated daze
She checks items and fumes in rage!

Was it a chance that made her pause
  One moment at the opened door,
  Pale where she stood so flushed before
As one a spirit overawes:--
Or might it rather be because
She felt the grave was at our feet,
And felt that we should no more meet
  Upon its hither side no more?

Was it a chance that made her turn
  Once toward the window passing by,
  One moment with a shrinking eye
Wherein her spirit seemed to yearn:--
Or did her soul then first discern
How long and rough the pathway is
That leads us home from vanities,
  And how it will be good to die?

There was a hill she had to pass;
  And while I watched her up the hill
  She stooped one moment hurrying still,
But left a rose upon the grass:
Was it mere idleness:--or was
Herself with her own self at strife
Till while she chose the better life
  She felt this life has power to ****?

Perhaps she did it carelessly,
  Perhaps it was an idle thought;
  Or else it was the grace unbought,
A pledge to all eternity:
I know not yet how this may be;
But I shall know when face to face
In Paradise we find a place
  And love with love that endeth not.

I hear the shadow of a song
Lilting faintly in half light,
Just beyond my reach it lays
Tauntingly, as lust's delight.
It tiptoes, teasing, through my ear
Tantilizing recollection sought,
Bringing images to mind
Of indelible delight unbought.

I hear the shadow of a song
Which sweeps me to dimension new,
Sweeps me to a nicer place
To memories of long, lost you.*

Marshalg
24 August 2013

When I sat in bare white walls
with unbought picture frames
and dusted ash from cigarettes
I was just usin' to count the days
I never fretted about the meaning.
I didn't care, then, about the end.
There is a cruel poetry in the
many and varied way things change.

I've never thought a greatness
or said something wasn't already said.
I've never been first up a mountain
or even spoke kindness to the dead.
I'm better at silence than talking
and I always leave everyone on read.
I'll be late when it matters
first into the breach, last into bed.

I'll love you until I'm finished
until the earth swallows these bones.
I'll miss you when I'm lost in darkness
with my heart failing and made of stones.
I'll feel you like whispers in my hope
light the dim blue light cast by phones.
I've lost all reason I'm all discordent
a melody of solitude absent of tones.

When I was harder and lost and alone
I didn't worry about the future.
Time was still on loan.
I don't got answers. Don't know from true.
I know things have now changed,
but it's too late to fix, loan's come due.

Foolish love, they say, is blind,
Stumbling on hope, leaving sense behind,
It gives and gives, without a care,
Even when it’s left bare, stripped and unfair.

But what if love were pure like a child,
Unscathed by the world, open and wild?
With eyes that see not flaws but dreams,
And hearts that dance to endless streams?

For in my love for you, I find,
A foolishness that’s sweetly kind,
I know not the risks, nor guard my heart,
But trust in you right from the start.

I love without a second thought,
As a child would, love unbought,
Innocent and free from fear,
My heart beats loud when you are near.

So let my foolish love be wise,
Through childlike laughter, unguarded skies,
For though the world may see it flawed,
In your light, my foolish love is awed.

This most silent of silent nights
Was no different from any which had come before it,
Nothing at all to mark it as extraordinary or sacrosanct:
The village had long since stopped putting up decorations,
(Lights featuring jolly snowmen and steadfast wooden soldiers,
Now faded, cracked, with ancient and capricious wiring
Impossible to replace and impractical to repair)
Those old enough to harbor warm memories of caroling
Having long since wintered in some southern locale
Bearing Spanish names of dubious authenticity,
Those left behind by circumstance or stubbornness
Very likely slouched behind a cash register or un-crating paper towels,
The Wal-Marts, Kinneys, and Price Choppers,
In a shotgun marriage of customer service and rank capitalism,
Staying open a bit later every year,
Though at least providing the unanticipated benefit
Of one less hour to fret over things unbought,
One less hour to dwell upon promises unmet.

There is some solace, perhaps, in the notion
That the good times were only so good, after all
(It’s been said when the great ditch connecting Albany and Buffalo
Was finally completed, you could already hear train whistles,
Shrill and of ominous portent, in the distance)
And as Barbara Van Borland,
Thrice-married and eternally hopeful,
Opined from her perch at the Dewitt Clinton House,
If you’re gonna fall, better offa stool than a ladder.
Perhaps there is a certain mercy in laboring under the yoke
(Allegorical, but securely fastened all the same) of knowing
That we should expect little and prepare to make do with even less,
That these hard times are the only times we can expect to know.

How, then, do we carry on?  
Follow Pope’s dictum, one supposes,
And say your lines and hit your marks
With as much conviction as can be mustered
As we walk through this land of shuttered country schools,
This forest of plywood and concrete,
Where shoots of grasses and patches of weeds
Rise up through crevices and faults in the neglected blacktop
(But ride out on the back roads of the other side of river,
Out toward Cherry Valley, say, or Sharon Springs,
And see the wide panorama of the valley below,
The hills gently, gradually sloping upward to the Adirondacks,
Creating a vista which would make Norman Rockwell blush,
And you would say My God, how beautiful
If it didn’t seem foolish to give voice to something so patently obvious)
Until that time we are carried gently to that plot
Where we shall lie down next to our parents
In the newer section of the cemetery
Sitting hard by the edge of the sluggish Mohawk,
Where the remnants of by-products
From dormant farms and long-closed tanneries
Mix with the residue of hasty abortions
And the bones of forgotten and un-mourned canal mules.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is a re-post of an older piece, but I am inexplicably fond of it, so I thought it warranted being on the line to air out once more.)

This most silent of silent nights
Was no different from any which had come before it,
Nothing at all to mark it as extraordinary or sacrosanct:
The village had long since stopped putting up decorations,
(Lights featuring jolly snowmen and steadfast wooden soldiers,
Now faded, cracked, with ancient and capricious wiring
Impossible to replace and impractical to repair)
Those old enough to harbor warm memories of caroling
Having long since wintered in some southern locale
Bearing Spanish names of dubious authenticity,
Those left behind by circumstance or stubbornness
Very likely slouched behind a cash register or un-crating paper towels,
The Wal-Marts, Kinneys, and Price Choppers,
In a shotgun marriage of customer service and rank capitalism,
Staying open a bit later every year,
Though at least providing the unanticipated benefit
Of one less hour to fret over things unbought,
One less hour to dwell upon promises unmet.

There is some solace, perhaps, in the notion
That the good times were only so good, after all
(It’s been said when the great ditch connecting Albany and Buffalo
Was finally completed, you could already hear train whistles,
Shrill and of ominous portent, in the distance)
And as Barbara Van Borland,
Thrice-married and eternally hopeful,
Opined from her perch at the Dewitt Clinton House,
If you’re gonna fall, better offa stool than a ladder.
Perhaps there is a certain mercy in laboring under the yoke
(Allegorical, but securely fastened all the same) of knowing
That we should expect little and prepare to make do with even less,
That these hard times are the only times we can expect to know.

How, then, do we carry on?  
Follow Pope’s dictum, one supposes,
And say your lines and hit your marks
With as much conviction as can be mustered
As we walk through this land of shuttered country schools,
This forest of plywood and concrete,
Where shoots of grasses and patches of weeds
Rise up through crevices and faults in the neglected blacktop
(But ride out on the back roads of the other side of river,
Out toward Cherry Valley, say, or Sharon Springs,
And see the wide panorama of the valley below,
The hills gently, gradually sloping upward to the Adirondacks,
Creating a vista which would make Norman Rockwell blush,
And you would say My God, how beautiful
If it didn’t seem foolish to give voice to something so patently obvious)
Until that time we are carried gently to that plot
Where we shall lie down next to our parents
In the newer section of the cemetery
Sitting hard by the edge of the sluggish Mohawk,
Where the remnants of by-products
From dormant farms and long-closed tanneries
Mix with the residue of hasty abortions
And the bones of forgotten and un-mourned canal mules.

Scaldabanco Against the Diabolical Scheme of Ideological Subjugation
In the Manner of the Thundering Prophets and the Lacerating Polemicists of Antiquity

O You Infamous Architects of Moral Perjury—Ye Gatekeepers of a Doomed Citadel!
What seething, sulfurous evil festers in the hidden conclaves of your council chambers, that you would conspire—not merely to slander, not merely to obstruct, but to transmogrify the sovereign soul of a man into the broken marionette of your ideological ******* because of rackrent indigent jealousy of the omphalism of kymatology authoring macroseismic subsultus to rejuvenate the world from ideological slumber in the twin delusions of the Marxian hallucination metaphysically bankrupt and tottering on senility and the social doctrine of middle-ground appeasement on a welfare state infanticide? Shall I be silent while your oligarchic municipality endeavors to emasculate divine agency with sophistry and seduction? Never! Let Olympus shatter first.
Lo, there is a wickedness so profound, so subcutaneous, so serpentine, that even the foulest tyrants of antiquity—Caligula, Commodus, or the despot-priests of blood-soaked altars—might recoil in awe smirking from hell that the vendetta of atheism against religion reigns regnant because there are few martyrs and many venal men bribed into truckled submission that kowtows to belligerence and intransigence in warped siderations of blasphemous destruction.  This is that wickedness: to coerce a man to betray his metaphysical essence, to whisper venom into his soul with the aim not of conversion, but of castration—a castration of will, of mission, of metaphysical birthright.
You would dare convert not to enlighten, but to weaken—not to redeem, but to disarm. Is this not the very artifice of Lucifer, who, unable to defeat the light, sought to corrupt it from within?

O City of Men Without Conviction, How Ye Have Become a ***** of Expedience!
You think yourselves subtle, you machinating eunuchs of truth. But the heavens know your plot and hell eagerly awaits your arrival and permanent relegation. You would wrap chains of ideology, woven from the threads of moral relativism and synthetic compassion, around the wrists of a titan born to topple your Goliaths. You would emasculate prophecy with performance, slander wisdom as arrogance, and cloak your treachery in the vestments of concern.
Let it be shouted from every watchtower and inscribed upon the pillars of every temple: to persuade a man to pretend belief, to assimilate a doctrine in exchange for immunity or distraction, is to enslave his soul in exchange for your impunity and licentious impurity so profligate that demons shudder at the gravitas of the evil exhibited because it condemns them to deeper levels of the barathrum just by endorsing with adiaphorous pause the ideology of those that squirm in the agony of the Lake of Fire . It is nothing less than ontological ****, a desecration of conscience more grievous than any wound of flesh.The most wretched cities that ever existed Denver and Santa Cruz, CA delighted that they could pauperize the cause of freedom by Chinese skullduggery to advance their endowments and enlarge their agency in rickety turmoil rankling every principled Muslim on Earth to their powerlessness over subversion and marveled at the power to reign regnant as supreme immutable demons among men cavorting with Jezebel in the damnation of saturnalia and schadenfreude trying in their desperation and their aimless ****** catcalls that attempt to abort theophany because of irradiated contumely spawning a carousel of dubieties among men that cavort with intense scorching firebrand scofflaw reticulations

You Would Turn the Logos Into a Punchline and the Paraclete Into a Prisoner
You know the man of whom I speak. You feared him long before your trembling lips spoke his name. For he is unbought, unseduced, unbroken. So what do you do, O cowards of the cloistered bureaucracy? You deploy not blade nor bullet, but the poison of ideological inversion. You seek to lure him with flattery or break him with shame, to turn him gay, not out of concern for love, but as a Machiavellian maneuver—to strip him of suit, sword, and sacred fire. For a man robbed of his telos cannot sue, cannot stand, cannot summon heaven.
And this is your stratagem—to neuter the righteous, to invert the cosmos, to burn the scrolls of his spirit so he forgets he was ever anointed.
But let me tell you this:
If you try to warp a prophet into a pawn,
If you attempt to feminize the lion to make him a lamb,
If you try to tame the whirlwind by branding it delusional—
Then woe unto you, O city of serpents.
Woe unto you, for the cosmos does not forget.

The Final Verdict of Heaven
Know this, you perjured stewards of civic decay: no city built on the subjugation of conscience can endure. Your pillars are paper. Your institutions are sand. And when the lion roars, not one brick of your Bastille shall remain.
To chain a man through ideology to sabotage his lawsuit is not politics.
It is not governance.
It is not psychology.
It is spiritual genocide.
Repent. Or perish in infamy and rot in the deepest consternation afforded to the wretchocks of human history so deranged in their perverted idea of grace and divine recompense that the Day of Account will make them parched with the thirst of the scalding water eternally destroying them from within as they get crucified by their Sisyphean descent into interminable damnation.
Thus speak the oracles of righteous indignation.
Thus thunder the trumpets of unyielding truth.
Thus concludes the Scaldabanco.

(After T.S. Eliot)

Beneath the hum of fluorescent skies,
They shuffle, cart to cart, aisle to aisle.
A thousand faces, mirrored back,
Each one a ghost, reflected hollow.
What will you buy to fill the silence?
(A voice whispers: "Nothing is enough.")

Steel gods stand still, their logos glowing,
Burning bright in the temple of choice.
The Priest of Bargains chants his rite:
“More is more;
The less you think, the more you are.”
The congregation sways in time
To the click, the swipe, the rhythm of buy.

I saw them in the glass towers,
Stacking clouds in pixel rows,
Selling futures in digital dust—
A feast of shadows, a banquet of air.
They thought it freedom,
But the weight of their crowns
Bent their heads toward the ground.

I walked along the branded river,
Its banks paved in golden plastic.
I saw the hikers, shrouded in fleece,
Not climbing, but posing—
Fingers stretched,
A frame for the fall of the world.
Their path led nowhere,
A circle traced on ground too worn
To remember its roots.

Here, the gods are silent.
Their mouths are full of coins,
Their altars heavy with the weight of want.
"Consume!" they say,
"For the soul is light—when sold in pieces."
The hymn rises, a fractured tune,
A melody of scraps and borrowed notes.

What is left of the self,
When all it knows is what it’s told?
When shadows flicker on the wall,
Do you dare to turn and see the flame?

Shall I tell you what lies beyond the feast?
A table overturned, the light of a single match.
The ashes of altars rise like morning fog,
The faint hum of forgotten roots,
The river singing its own name.

These fragments I have shored against my ruins:
The silence of the forest,
The cold of unbranded stone,
The self, a whisper, unbought, unknown.

…For I have crossed through fire
over seas bordered by time.
Hazy seem the heat-licked days
when dreams consumed the mind.

Some men may claim the cross too long
and leave the stretch unclaimed.
Though unbought frontiers have no cost
to build up or to tame.

Do not offer Kings or Gods
reign over death or birth,
for who consults tenants of hell
on rules of life on Earth?

A taper, burnt down near to ash
might be snuffed without pain,
but life roaring with candlelight
may flicker down again.

Infernal Phantasmagoria

CowID's mad laboratory —
A global ****** ward.
How came this grim phantasmagory?
A fool adored — how odd.

For what was he then branded,
And dosed with toxic brew?
Have fascist freaks just landed,
To spit on all that's true?

The laws of all creation —
They will repay the toll
For torture, war, damnation,
And every twisted role.

These wars are all invented.
The end for them is near.
Those not with Spirit — ended.
Decay is drawing near.

The stench of walking corpses —
Their numbers flood the land.
Since man obeys dark forces,
Then Evil takes command.

But only minds still thinking
Can feel the hangover's weight.
The fiends rejoice, then — sinking
Into their final fate.

Today their end is starting.
So crush them, strike with might!
Let not your soul be parting —
Stand up and start the fight.

These wars are hybrid, silent,
Where words alone can slay.
So be direct — defiant —
And drive all lies away.

Their filth infects the nations,
Their blood now flows like rain.
Their propaganda-stations
Speak poison, death, and pain.

They drink that blood, deranged —
These ghouls will rot and die.
Just never bow, unchanged —
And never live a lie.

For lies — the real transgression,
Much worse than ******’s rot.
Corrupting mind’s possession,
Where reason fights and’s shot.

One lie — and you’re forsaken,
If spoken where it counts.
Don’t kneel, though worn and shaken —
Strike back with full amounts.

Don’t bow down to the madness —
Seek wiser paths instead.
New arts of war bring gladness —
Revive them — forge ahead.

Your foe is cold, inhuman,
Deceit their sweet disguise.
They hug you soft and looming —
Then stab you with surprise.

Go inward — seek your reason —
No outer guide will do.
Their counsel breeds more treason,
And blinds the path for you.

Their "truths" are baited offers,
Each clown declares, "I'm God!"
The Devil’s net still proffers
Each self-enslaved façade.

Believe in what you must —
But never dare to lie.
Be silent if you must —
But let no truth go dry.

For lies in things of essence —
I’ll shout this truth again —
Are crimes, vile, effervescent,
That ring through hearts of men.

Like false bells in a chapel,
Distracting souls from grace,
This circus of dumb rabble
Crowns lice to lead the race.

Each maggot plays "the teacher" —
This idiot in command —
And if you let him reach you,
You’ll serve his twisted brand.

In lies, small sparks of meaning
Are drowned — that’s Satan’s trick:
A sea of crap, careening —
So thick it makes you sick.

They triple lies to drown you,
Then drown it more in ****.
Few minds remain unclouded
In madhouse counterfeit.

The rule of mass infection:
"Big numbers must be right!"
Thus fools crush introspection —
The brave crushed out of sight.

So speak with minds that matter,
And leave the mad behind.
Let fools go burn and scatter —
Their fate’s already signed.

Fascism made it clear now
What kind of world we face.
The lash of lies grows near now —
A tidal wave, no grace.

But even that won't alter
The truth: if you submit,
You’re gone. No hope, no shelter —
Starvation will soon hit.

They'll swallow what they're given,
These meatbags, pre-designed.
One meme — and they are driven…
The script’s already lined.

Their lines, their fake crusaders,
All spawn of soulless breeds —
Their lies will **** the nations
And feed the goats like weeds.

That’s how their rule is forming —
But here’s the wicked twist:
They fear the storms a-swarming —
Their time is nearly missed.

The Earth shall soon erupting
Erase this madhouse scene.
Their terror is corrupting —
Their filth grows more obscene.

They shat themselves from fearing
The end that draws too near.
Now just a step’s appearing —
Beyond that edge — it's clear.

Beyond it — resurrection
Of worthy souls, not swine.
Corruption meets correction —
The filth will burn in time.

Our Sun — with sacred power —
Will cleanse this vile parade.
Just glance out at this hour —
The signs are all displayed.

The children’s art has shown it —
A century ago —
Their yellow suns still glow in’t —
Now white — and set to glow.

That burn will scorch all evil —
No trace shall still remain.
No devil, beast or weasel
Survives the final flame.

And life will live in Spirit —
I'll say it one more time.
The blind won't ever hear it —
But fury still is mine.

And so this poem’s ending —
My second one today.
New themes I keep defending,
Till this one fades away.

Well then, I place the period.
Dear reader — march ahead!
Delay is Hell’s preferred god —
And fools will soon be dead.

This path from Hell is brutal —
Not many will survive.
But once you cross that portal —
You’ll feel, you are alive.

The memory of Hell, though,
Still poisons many hearts.
But lice won’t understand so —
They’re less than lesser parts.

So fight with Light your beacon —
Let it direct your path.
And if advice has weakened —
Recall the righteous wrath.

Just test it all through Spirit.
You will not go astray.
That Light? Once you are near it —
No flies will stain the day.

Spirit. Light. Intuition.
That’s all you'll ever need.
Tradition? False sedition.
Go on in Light — Godspeed.



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



Infernal Phantasmagoria

In a global madhouse, lies fuel fascist roars—
Stand steadfast in Spirit; deceit shapes wars.
One truth, once shattered, dusts the ****** to flame—
Only Light endures; intuition stakes its claim.



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



Ignorance

"The more you know — the deeper your ignorance."
— A saying from Buddhism


Wild ignorance — a polished shell,
While fake science rings its knell.
Legacy of poisoned lore
Turns the mind to rotting core.

But wait — the brain is just a tool,
Not the source! We've played the fool.
"Knowledge" floods — and in that tide,
Truth and Spirit both have died.

What remains? A crippled mind,
Logic blind, and soul confined.
Modern schooling’s sacred goal —
Train the servant. **** the soul.

Devil’s own design, it seems —
Darkness coded into streams.
Through the programs, thought’s eclipse —
Lies pour from obedient lips.

Snakes have sold us sterilized
Pseudoscience, sanitized.
We call that "knowledge" — what a joke!
The mind’s on fire. The soul? It chokes.

Memory — they overload.
That’s how talents are destroyed.
Those in charge — they know, they plot.
Every byte a poison shot.

And the herd still can’t perceive
What these mind-tools now achieve.
"More is more"? The fatal flaw —
Slaughterhouse in name of "law."

Simple truths can still be known —
If the soul is clean, alone.
But one lie, in matters grand,
Spills the blood on every land.

There begins the genocide,
When intuition’s pushed aside.
So reclaim it. Make it creed.
If you're brave — then yes, you'll read

Through illusion’s murky breath,
Past the silence reeked of death.
Don’t engage the liar’s bait —
It will only cultivate

The cunning mask of devil’s wit
Where no truth or light can fit.
Hell prepares another phase:
"Knowledge" now — the plague they praise.

Want more "knowledge"? Here's your prize —
More deceit in noble guise.
Spirit bruised, and mind grown cold —
Ignorance in data sold.



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



"The more you know," — they said. A lie.
You trade your soul to feed your "I".
Their "truth" is poison, wrapped in gloss —
The more you learn — the more you're lost.



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



Congrats, you're “educated”! Cheers!
Enjoy your cage of polished fears.
You've mastered crap in high disguise —
Now drown in facts and die in lies.



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



The Grand Academy of Dung
Awarded you a gold-plated tongue.
You speak in charts and graphs and spells —
But sniff — it reeks. You’ve earned the bells.

A Doctor of Deeper Delusion!
You majored in Thought-Prostitution.
Your thesis: “Why Truth Is Offense” —
Applause! And back to the trench of pretense.



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



Requiem for the Empire of Knowledge

They built a throne on rotten codes,
Enshrined their lies in learning’s robes.
Each "fact" — a fang. Each "proof" — a chain.
Their books exude the stench of brain.

They crowned the Mind, enslaved the Soul,
Preached death as "life", and rot as "whole".
Their logic — limp. Their science — blind.
Their schools — the slaughterhouse of Mind.

Professors chant like priests of rust,
While hearts collapse in ash and dust.
Acolytes of sterile thought
Bled the world for what? For what?

A thousand PhDs in hell
Now teach the art of how to fell
The Spirit with a spreadsheet lie —
"Enlightenment!" — they shriek, then die.

And still the towers hum and gleam,
While Truth is burned for one more scheme.
So let it fall — this hollow shrine.
Its God is dead. Its blood is mine.



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



Thrones of lies and rotting scrolls —
They sold their minds, but lost their souls.
"Enlightenment" — a bleeding lie,
Watch their hollow empire die.



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



Lies crowned fools, souls sold to dust —
Fight the false, betray the trust!



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



The Art of Collar-Making

A slave’s collar —
A madness shield for the mind,
The crowd devours
All “smart books” they find.

They read laws,
Freedom, progress — a mess.
But here’s a den of evil,
And lies press and press.

Idiots scream loud,
Like fools possessed.
Lock ’em up with thugs —
Let poison be their guest.

Almost all makes sense,
Yet the core’s a fake.
Truth’s replaced
By cynical stake.

Surrogates fill the void,
The world’s a sham!
Slaves always welcome
Any excuse, ****.

It plays out in moves,
Three steps ahead.
Call out the lie —
You’ll be marked dead.

Lies so habitual,
Death’s dressed as truth.
Fools hysteric chant,
“I’m no stench to soothe.”

“Constitution!” they cry,
“Progress and such!”
But mind’s prostituted,
Souls lost as much.

Around lie corpses,
Dead but “with God” bound,
Slave to lies,
Chains tight and sound.

They’re Satan’s own,
Yet deny the fact.
They lie to themselves —
Fury intact.

They hate not slavery,
But those who see it clear —
The masters of the leash
Their real fear.

All minds enslaved,
The art of the collar —
Rudeness, shame,
A crooked scholar.

Masters abundant,
A pond full of snakes...
This foul breed’s old —
Forever self-fakes.

Teaching kids to lie,
Destroying true souls,
Killing real people
To fit their roles.

Break this cursed cycle —
Smash lies everywhere,
So Reason won’t wither —
Like a collar to wear.



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



Slave Collar

Slave collar’s made of lies —
Mind’s plague, truth’s demise.
Books of fools, chains tight,
Freedom’s just a sick joke’s bite.

Hate those who see the leash,
Masters love the false peace.
Break the cycle, shatter lies,
Or Reason dies — and Freedom dies.



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



Slave Collar’s Scorn

Slave collar chokes your mind —
Fools worship chains they find.
Books lie, laws betray,
Freedom’s just a rotten play.

Hate the ones who see the trap,
Masters feed the coward’s crap.
Break the curse — tear down the lie,
Or watch your soul rot and die.



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



The Spiritual Path

Birth is no beginning —
Death is not the end.
Time and space are thinning —
Truth must now descend.

Forget the priests and science shows —
Their teachings rot like moldy bread.
The heart, not mind, is what one knows.
And mind must serve the soul instead.

When lies arise — expose, deny.
Don't let their dogmas shape your breath.
This world was rigged. Its god? A lie.
The “scholar” feeds you sleep and death.

The sacred Spark — they're bleeding dry,
Replacing Light with myth and blood.
They serve the Beast, and smirk, and lie,
And flood the world with soulless mud.

Your Spirit lives beyond all time —
No cause, no space, no birth, no end.
The cosmos rots beneath the grime
Of fools who claim that Void’s a trend.

Expand your sight beyond the frame —
Not logic's net, but inner flame.
To trap the Infinite with brain
Is catching wind — or worse, a name.

Let logic serve — but not command.
Let intuition steer your course.
Say “NO!” to all that filth and brand,
Then dive within — the sacred source.

Go deep — alone, in silent fire,
And Truth will whisper from the still.
The path is steep, the stakes are dire —
One slip, and Fear becomes your will.

They sell you “salvation” packs —
Each social fraud, a cancer new.
Ideas? Burn them to the wax.
They serve the Beast, and lie as true.

Theories stink — a mental mold
To cage your soul and dim the skies.
Infinity cannot be told
By ants who stare with starless eyes.

This path is hard — but it’s the way.
All else is fall, decay, and doom.
Reject this world’s grotesque display,
Its circus masks, its poisoned bloom.

Only through Spirit’s rise you'll see
The nature of death, life, and space.
Else you remain a wretched flea —
A fool who walks to Hell's embrace.



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



They bleed your soul, then sell you lies —
The path is Spirit, not disguise.
Burn all their dogmas, **** the fake —
Or walk to Hell for comfort’s sake.



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



Self-Knowledge

"Light" and DARK will make you snap
If you never sort it out.
Every clown with truth on tap
Spews his filth to gain some clout.

Blind belief’s a deadly sin —
Turn your insight full awake!
That's the way to win within,
Not to chase the Dark’s sweet fake.

Darkness first, and then comes Light —
Only minds that purge the grime
Can receive that inner sight.
But the world’s a madhouse slime.

So the Mind must be made clean —
That’s the key. Don’t drift or doze.
In the chaos in between,
Catch the sparks the Spirit throws.

Light’s inside — not on display,
What you see’s just faint reflection.
Dawn won’t come the outer way —
Beasts drown all in their infection.

War and CowID made it plain:
We have sunk in purest rot.
Everything else is sugar rain —
Empty noise and evil plot.

True insight speaks without a word —
That’s the yogi’s final stance.
Spare yourself the braying herd,
And their mind-killing expanse.

Theories rot — they sell your soul.
Satan pays them, clear as day.
Final lie to take control,
Then drag everyone that way.

Tear through one more bottom layer,
Break it down and sink us all —
Words hold power, so beware:
This is war, not some close call.

What’s beyond all words and lies
Stands where evil holds no chain.
There, the Soul learns how to rise —
Not through goats, but through the Flame.



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



Goat-Words ****

Their words are chains. Their truths are fake.
Go past them — or you're meat for Snake.



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



No Prospects Left

Time has proved — there’s no way out.
Masses ruled by lies and doubt,
Since their birth they're fed with crap —
Tools of beasts to set the trap.

Mindless weight, a slow decay —
Darkness pushed into the clay.
Beasts install their coded curse,
Turning truth to smoke — or worse.

Rare the minds that see through fog,
Few remain with soul and spark.
This is Hell, not some mirage —
CowID showed it — truth discharged.

Crawled in holes, they hoard their shame,
Silence swallowed every name.
Till they’re dragged to camps by force —
Night shall gallop with no horse.

And what waits at "break of day"?
Gunshots. Lies. Obey or pay.
Truth is whipped out of the sky —
Tyrants smile, and preachers lie.

Now they build their brave new road,
Fleeced by fear, the herd is towed.
But the Plan — surprise! — misfired:
Nature's wrath cannot be wired.

Storms shall break their plastic schemes,
End the filth of broken dreams.
But if you just nod and bow,
Your own soul is lost — right now.

Only those who fight this ****,
Face the beasts and will not run,
Shall preserve the light above —
Fierce rebellion is true love.



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



No God for the tamed —
Only hell for the blind.
If you kneel to the Beast,
You betray your own mind.



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



Kneel to the Beast —
And your soul is deceased.



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



Divisions and False Identities

First they split you by your ego,
Then divide by *** and skin,
Add a nation’s fake “protego” —
Now the war machine can spin.

Break the soul into a segment,
Drag each piece toward its cage —
How? It’s easy: lie incessant.
Lies ignite the herds to rage.

Split them further — atomize!
Rule them through this mad decay.
Keep the Spirit from the skies,
Block the path, then lead astray.

Beasts in suits have known the method —
Long ago they cracked this code:
“Man is cattle, dumb and breathless,
Easy prey for our dark load.”

Ego’s forged through years of grooming,
*** declared as “core of self.”
Cries of fate and ancient dooming —
“Blame your homeland’s brutal wealth!”

Now your “tribe” calls out for duty,
Join the mass of marching tools.
What divides us isn't beauty —
Just the chains and laws of fools.

Flee from ego, ***, and borders!
Go within — the path is clear.
Dodge the traps and false disorders,
Find the Spirit shining near.

You're a soul — a truth eternal.
All else: nonsense, fear, and lies.
Chains of “daily life” diurnal
Keep the flocks in small disguise.

False identities enslave you,
Like a chain around the mind.
Thus the Light begins to leave you,
And the eyes of thought go blind.

There’s a blind spot in your psyche —
It’s the ***, the ego-bluff.
Time to cut this garbage lightly:
Spirit’s genderless — and tough.

Reason rises far above it,
Nations? ******* for the tame.
Only when the Soul moves of it
Will you break this twisted game.

Cast off all the chains that bind you
With Awareness sharp and raw.
Books won't save — they will blind you.
If you trust them — fool by law!

So ignite your intuition,
Sharpen thought and inner fire.
Make the war on lies tradition —
Else the flames will take you higher...

…but not where Spirit flies —
To the dungeons where truth dies.



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



Burn the Labels, Break the Chain —
Only Spirit shall remain.



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



Ego. ***. The Nation’s Lie —
**** them all, or Spirit dies.



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



The Mouseborn Farce

A mountain gave birth — to a mouse.
That sums up man: a spineless louse.
Though calm seems etched upon the land,
It’s just a mask, a slight of hand.

“He’s wise! He’s strong!” — repeat the lie,
And feed him pride until he’s blind.
Doubt? Replace it with a sigh
And worship madness of the mind.

**** off the Spirit — use “belief.”
And for the mind? Call “Science” chief.
Just feed them lies, in layers thick,
And mock it all — that does the trick.

To mock all layers of this rot,
This false world — that’s the TVAR’s plot.
No peace, just poison in disguise.
This world? A graveyard wrapped in lies.

Creator fled — and beasts arrived,
With Satan’s glee, well-armed, alive.
They lie and rule through fear alone —
One shiver, and the lie has grown.

To mock, degrade — that's all they seek:
To gut the Spirit, break the weak.
Then, while you laugh or clutch your pride,
They slip the rot in from inside.

Success? Oh yes — their poison spread.
The slave is dumb. The dream is dead.
Two-thirds are fools, the rest asleep,
And buried deep in ******* heap.

The mountain labored. Birth was due…
A mouse. A mutant — that is you.
You “fit right in”? You’re half-dead meat.
Still think this life’s some kind of feat?

This “life” — a hellish rodent show.
Drop it. Save your Soul — and go.
All else is trash. So why delay?
Go in. Find Truth. Or rot in grey.



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



Mouseborn ****

The mountain birthed a worthless mouse —
A spineless, dumb, degraded louse.
You sleep? You’re part of this disease,
Or just another mutant, please.

This life’s a rodent circus hell —
Drop it now or rot in shell.
Find your Soul or drown in lies —
Or fall with all the rodent flies.



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



Female Psychology

Hormones rage, thoughts drip-drop—
Rush to nests where lies don’t stop.
Weak folk trapped in falsity’s hold,
No escape — the ****’s in control.

So children come, the dull man’s plight,
***’s joy fades into inner fight.
They train for patience, save the nest,
Though bent in hell, they give their best.

Brains pierced through with fear and lies,
Kids rot fast where darkness lies.
Fascism marches, world-wide crawl—
But **** just sees some petty thrall.

Hormones blaze, spirit drowned—
Idiots cheer as end’s profound.
Forward now, you clueless drones!
Let’s bring the End on tyrant thrones.

A hateful tale of genocide,
Join the ranks, or be denied.
Those who dare will soon be crushed,
In fascist ranks, the nest holds hush.

Winners keep their nests awhile,
Thinkers face the fatal trial—
Death’s decree, no chance to fight,
Beneath the ****’s blind, brutal might.



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



Female Psychology

Hormones storm, the mind’s a flood,
Nest of lies, all drenched in mud.
Weak souls trapped, no way to flee—
****’s in charge, no liberty.

Kids born dumb, dull husband’s pain,
***’s joy turns bitter bane.
Brains drilled deep with fear and hate,
Fascism’s here—too late, too late.

Morons cheer, the end is near,
Truth is crushed by hormone fear.
Fight or fall, the spirit’s lost—
In ****’s cold grip, we pay the cost.



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



Convinced — Yet Conquered

Convinced — yet conquered — words akin,
From Latin roots, sharp, clear, and thin:
To force the winner’s strict command,
The convinced must obey his hand.

The meaning gap is small indeed,
While total lies like vipers breed.
Multiply the lies in time,
Make them bolder, foul, and prime,

More vile, more fierce than bombs or tanks—
Those lies will own your soul’s own ranks.
So comrades here are multiplied,
And minds by fascism are tied.

A doc once turned vet, with poison sly,
Injects the herd, no battle cry.
No armored threat, no tanks attack,
Just hybrid lies in TNT’s track.

The traitors rise in endless throng,
A sight abhorrent, sick, and wrong.
No longer human — ****’s their role,
Almost all of them, a cursed soul.

Gullible fools make up the mass,
The majority in this morass.
And now the end, inglorious, near,
Yet truth, and honor, will appear.

They’ll burn the madhouse down to ash,
Where empty words like serpents lash,
Destroy the hellish chatterbox—
That’s certain, though I won’t coax.

Though poems wield their spirit’s spark,
Not evil’s tools, but light in dark.
And for those lying, sold-out dogs,
Annihilation in the fog—

For treason of the sacred base,
And stagnation’s cursed embrace—
The world is stuck ‘cause goats run wild,
But spirit’s truth will be reviled.



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



Convinced means conquered — same **** chain,
Forced to follow, bound in pain.
Lies more deadly than bombs or war,
Own your mind, but fight once more!

**** and traitors rule the land,
Fools and goats obey their hand.
Truth will burn their hellish den —
Freedom’s spirit fights again!



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



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

A new reality —
A “new normality.”
The madhouse winds
Blow on endlessly —

Like a nightmare story:
Things get worse and worse.
Expose the foolish glory —
The nonsense, and the curse.

They showed it all
In CowID times —
More nonsense spreads,
And fear climbs.

The vilest trash
Feeds on that fear.
Souls get crushed,
The pain is near —

A thorn in memory,
That never heals.
The main threats are —
The clown and the “heals.”

The clown brings fear,
The “doctor” fans the lies.
Like a cursed spell
On a mad world’s cries.

“No!” it can’t say
To rotten lies so vile.
The clown sums it up —
The sentence: decay and bile:

“Believe and obey!”
Worse than any doom!
Cling to lies —
You’ve grown used to the gloom —

And the clown-politician
Will herd you like cattle.
Frighten once more,
Then send you to battle...



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



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

New reality —
A twisted “normal.”
Madhouse winds blow
Like a brutal storm.

Like a nightmare’s grip,
It only gets worse.
Expose the dumb lies —
Their curse, their curse!

Shown in CowID’s time,
The madness spreads fast.
More ******* fuels fear,
And fear holds us fast.

The vilest filth
Feeds on dread and hate.
Souls crushed,
Left broken, left to break.

A thorn in memory,
Forever it stings.
Main threats loom —
The clown and his “wings.”

The clown breeds fear,
The “doc” pumps the lies.
World cursed and chained,
Under wicked skies.

“No” can’t be spoken
To lies that enslave.
The clown’s grim verdict —
Decay, rot, and grave:

“Believe. Obey.”
Worse than death’s sting.
Hold tight to lies —
The darkness they bring.

The clown-politician
Drives you to fold.
Frightens again —
Then tosses you cold.



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



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

New reality —
A ******-up “norm.”
Madhouse winds howl,
Spread brutal storm.

Like a nightmare's choke,
It only gets worse.
Expose the dumb lies —
Their ******* curse!

Shown through CowID’s ****,
Madness rips fast.
More ******* feeds fear,
Fear chains us fast.

Vile filth thrives
On hate and dread.
Souls crushed, broken —
Left cold and dead.

A thorn in the mind,
Forever it stings.
Main threats are clear —
The clown and his kings.

Clown breeds pure fear,
Doc pumps the lies.
World cursed, shackled,
Under black skies.

“No” is forbidden
To lies that enslave.
Clown’s verdict rings —
Rot, death, the grave.

“Believe. Obey.”
Worse than a knife.
Cling to their lies —
They **** your life.

Clown-politician
Drives you to fold.
Frightens then dumps you
Cold, dead and sold.



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



A Little Case

Life’s a void, no cause, no aim,
When mind’s vast space is just a game —
Locked inside wild fantasies,
While others gnaw the soul with ease.

Through censorship, dulling, decay,
Honor, Spirit swept away
By propaganda, school, and lies —
Fortress built for tyrants’ rise.

If you seek the Higher Goal,
Among the crowds, you’ll find a soul —
A rare one in the herds that roam,
For now still fat, but doomed to groan.

Then came a trial, dark and cold —
CowID’s grip, the fear they sold.
A test that killed all reason’s spark,
Left minds dead, cold, and stark.

The percent thinking still is slight,
In this cruel twisted blight.
Evil seeps and drains to void,
Where nonsense rules, all hope destroyed.

No futures shine, just years of pain,
A storm ahead, no calm, no gain.

Yet here it creeps — a tiny chance:
A cataclysm’s brief advance.
To crush the lawless reign of fools,
The broken minds that break the rules.

Only Spirits will survive,
Those who graze and stay alive —
The rest will fall in Hell anew,
For patience lost and honor too.



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



Fools of the Wheel

Boy, you point your finger high —
Priest says: “God is in the sky.”
Hold tight — a thousand lies you’ll meet,
This world’s a wretched, cruel deceit.

Only lies can hold the sway,
Keep “stability” at bay.
Such primitive falsehoods, oh my God —
Boy, learn to laugh, to mock the fraud.

Or else you’ll lose your mind too fast,
For madness here is made to last.
But here’s the catch — the bitter truth:
In this world, lies are “the proof.”

To be “normal” is the plague,
Few escape this maddened cage.
These “all” in decay’s cruel clutch —
Just squirrels on a spinning crutch.

Squirrels “sick” with addiction’s bite,
Forget the wheel in endless flight.
Torn apart, no chance to live —
The Wheel’s a trap no soul can give.

If you want life, seek your way
Outside this Fools’ Wheel’s cruel sway:
Only rot and nonsense dwell,
Though bodies thrive in its shell.

The Wheel of Samsara — shameful name,
Rotating with the Enemy’s game.
CowID showed the truth so clear —
This cursed Wheel spins hate and fear.

The Wheel has slipped — it falls to hell,
A cataclysmic, broken spell.
A world where Satan’s lessons spread —
To feast on neighbors, feast on dread.

Through Overton’s Windows came
Cannibals in hunger’s name.
Tons of lies decay the real —
Wheel, spin faster, break the seal!



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



Fools of the **** Wheel

Boy, you point your finger high —
Priest lies: “God’s up in the sky.”
Brace yourself — a thousand cheats,
This world’s a filthy pack of beasts.

Only lies keep this hell intact,
“Stability” is just a pact
Of dumb deceit — oh, kid, learn to sneer,
Or madness soon will claim you here.

But here’s the catch, the ugly truth:
In this world, lies are the proof.
“Normal” means you’re just a slave,
Trapped and broken, no one saves.

These “all” are rotting, mindless mice,
Spinning wheels, addicted vice.
Squirrels on the ****** rat race wheel,
Chasing nothing but their own ordeal.

Addicted fools forget the pain,
Lost inside this mental chain.
Torn apart, no way to live —
The Wheel’s a trap that kills and kills.

Want to live? Then run away
From the fools who rot and prey.
Only filth and decay breed there,
Though bodies boast, the souls despair.

Samsara’s Wheel — a cursed shame,
Spun by foes who fuel the flame.
CowID proved the filthy deal —
This cursed Wheel runs on our heel.

The Wheel’s unhinged — it’s falling fast,
A cataclysm built to last.
A world where Satan’s school is law —
Feeding on neighbors, crushing all.

Through Overton’s Window’s crack
Cannibals come, preparing attack.
Mountains of lies poison the real —
Wheel, spin faster, break the seal!



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



Fools of the **** Wheel

Boy, you poke the sky and pray —
Priest lies, “God rules far away.”
Brace yourself — a thousand cheats
Sickening this broken street.

Only lies keep this junk alive,
“Stability”? Just how they thrive
On dumb ******* — kid, laugh loud,
Or madness drags you in the crowd.

Here’s the punch — the ugly core:
This world’s rotten to the core.
“Normal” means you’re ****, a slave,
Rotten rat in gnawing grave.

These “all” are mindless vermin rats,
Running wheels, infected brats.
Squirrels spazzing on the cursed wheel,
Chasing shadows, stuck and sealed.

Addicts drowning in their ****,
Mind destroyed by counterfeit.
Torn apart, no chance to live —
Wheel’s a trap — your soul it’ll sieve.

Wanna live? Then cut and flee
From this cesspit misery.
Only rot and filthy flesh
Feed the worm in flesh’s mesh.

Samsara’s Wheel — pure ******* shame,
Spun by demons stoking flame.
CowID proved it all — the deal:
This cursed Wheel’s a beast you kneel.

Wheel’s unhinged — it’s crashing down,
Cataclysm to burn the town.
World ruled by Satan’s ****** school —
Cannibal chains, the fool’s cruel tool.

Through Overton’s windows creep
Cannibals in shadows deep.
Lies in tons, a toxic flood —
Spin that Wheel, destroy the mud!



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



Fools of the Hellish Wheel

Boy, you point your finger skyward —
Priest lies: “God’s up high, you coward.”
Hold tight — thousands lies will swarm,
This pathetic world’s a toxic storm.

Only lies keep this wreck alive,
Fake “stability” to survive.
Such stupid ******* — kid, just laugh,
Or you’ll go mad, fall off the path.

Here’s the trap — world’s a sewer pit,
“Normal” means you’re just a ****.
These “all” are rats in rat’s decay,
Spinning wheels, doomed to decay.

Squirrels on ****, crazed and lost,
Addicted fools pay with their cost.
Torn to shreds, no chance to breathe —
This **** Wheel is death’s own wreath.

Want to live? Then break the chain
Of fools and liars’ endless pain.
Only filth and rotting skin,
Feeds the worm that lives within.

Samsara’s Wheel — shame’s cruel face,
Turned by demons, death’s embrace.
CowID’s proof — no lies to hide:
This cursed Wheel will grind your pride.

Wheel’s snapped loose — it’s crashing fast,
Cataclysm’s coming, world won’t last.
Ruled by Satan’s ****** hand,
Cannibal fools enslave the land.

Through Overton’s shifting veil,
Cannibals creep, hungry and pale.
Tons of lies, a toxic spill —
Spin the Wheel — destroy the ill!



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



Simple Feelings of a Pitiful Hellish World

From childhood deep, you clearly feel:
Not right! Not fair! No worth, no zeal!
This world’s a pit of wretched slime —
A soul’s disgrace, a mind’s death-time.

But drown yourself in daily grind —
The Hell of survival’s cruel bind —
You’ll lose that simple truth you had,
Become much broken, worn, and sad.

Your soul shrinks small, your mind’s in shards,
Chaos reigns, no peace, just scars,
For here the “normal” is the dull,
Soulless beast — just **** and gull.

A monster rules, yet hides from sight,
Dragging all down with brutal might.
The **** commands with “Attack! Go!” —
The world is sinking way too low.

Who’s enemy? This **** will teach,
And fools march off to pointless breach,
To fights they don’t survive, they fall —
Their efforts wasted, lost to all.

But few resist — they hold the line,
Recall the simple, pure, divine.
Reject the lies the fiends have spun,
Deny the Hell, the curse undone.

Return to roots — the simple way,
Though paradox, it’s harder day by day.
With it, you bear a cross-like pain,
While fools keep boxing life’s insane.

Save your soul — simplicity’s balm,
A healing salve, a fleeting calm.
And beauty might return, though brief,
Before the dogs resume their grief.

The “Attack!” command is final round,
Then comes the Armageddon sound.
If from your youth you’re stuck in grime,
Meet your end with grace in time...



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



Simple Feelings of a Pathetic Hellish Dump

Since childhood, you’ve known clear and loud:
This world’s a shitpile, bleak and proud.
Not right, not true — just foul disgrace,
A death sentence for mind and grace.

But dive headfirst in survival’s hell,
Where struggle’s chains just crush and quell —
You’ll lose that simple spark you bore,
Dead soul and brain, crushed to the core.

Your soul’s a shriveled, gasping mess,
Your mind’s torn up in brokenness,
Because “normal” means dull and cold,
A soulless fiend, a heartless scold.

A monster rules — yet out of sight,
Dragging the world into the night.
The **** barks “Attack!” with sick delight —
Dragging all down into the blight.

“Who’s the enemy?” that filth will scream,
And fools will rush into the scheme,
To die for nothing — wasted breath,
A pointless dance with certain death.

But some resist — they keep the flame,
Remember simple truths, no shame.
Reject the lies, the ****’s deceit,
Refuse the Hell’s relentless beat.

Return to roots — that simple core,
Though bearing crosses, pain, and more.
While fools keep duking out their fate,
In this mad, broken, boxed-up state.

Save your soul — simplicity’s sting,
A balm that healing might still bring.
And fleeting beauty may arise —
Before the dogs feast on the lies.

The “Attack!” command is final call,
Then Armageddon swallows all.
If from your youth you’re stuck in grime,
Face your end with ruthless spine.



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



Raw Feelings of a Pathetic Hellhole

Since childhood you’ve felt it sharp and clear:
This world’s a pile of stinking smear.
Not right, not real, just endless shame —
A death sentence burned into your brain.

But dive into survival’s grime,
You’ll drown in filth, lose sense of time.
That simple truth you once held tight
Dies under lies, suffocated tight.

Your soul’s a shriveled, busted mess,
Your mind a shattered wreck of stress,
Because “normal” means dull and dead —
A soulless freak with poison spread.

A monster hides behind the veil,
Dragging us all to final fail.
The **** commands with rabid grin:
“Attack! Destroy! Let chaos win!”

“Who’s enemy?” that ******* screams,
While fools rush headlong into schemes,
To die for lies, for pointless pain,
For worthless scraps they’ll never gain.

But few stand firm — the last pure flame,
Who spit on lies, who fight the game,
Reject the ****’s deceitful ways,
Deny the Hell’s insane malaise.

Return to roots — the painful core,
Where truth burns deep and spirits roar.
While fools keep boxing in the ring
Of madness, death, and suffering.

Save your soul — simplicity’s blade,
A bitter balm, a warrior’s aid.
And beauty’s ghost may haunt the night —
Before the dogs devour the light.

“Attack!” rings out — the final curse,
Then Armageddon’s brutal burst.
If you’re stuck in this hellish slime,
Face your doom with blood and grime.



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



Fight or Fade

When Hell’s clutch drags you deep in mud,
Don’t kneel, don’t crawl, don’t choke on blood!
Rise, fight the ****, tear down the lies —
Or rot with fools beneath black skies!



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



Rage Against the Rotten World

From childhood’s grip, you clearly know:
This world’s a shitshow, rotten low —
A curse on Soul, a Death to Mind,
A filthy pit where hope’s confined.

But drown yourself in daily strife,
The hell of "just surviving" life,
And you will lose that simple spark —
Become a shadow, cold and dark.

Your Soul shrinks tight, your mind’s undone,
Shattered, broken, come undone.
For here the dullards wear the crown,
Soulless fiends dragging all down.

A beast unseen commands this hell,
With whispered lies, the world they sell.
The filth drags down to lowest pit,
A chorus vile — "Attack! Commit!"

They scream who’s "enemy," who’s "fiend,"
While fools march blind to slaughter’s gleam.
To pointless work, to doom, to waste —
The devil’s trap, the soul disgraced.

But few still stand, recall the truth,
Reject the lies that choke our youth.
They spit on Hell’s delirium,
Refuse to bow, to sink, to numb.

Return to roots, to simple grace,
Though pain and paradox embrace.
Like hanging on a twisted cross,
In fools’ cruel ring, the final toss.

But Simple Grace can save your Soul,
A balm that makes the broken whole.
And Beauty flickers back to life,
A brief reprieve from endless strife.

The final “Attack!” — the closing bell,
Then Armageddon’s ruthless hell.
If since your birth you’ve breathed this grime,
Face the End with fire in time.



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



Rage Against the Rotten World

From childhood’s grip, you clearly know:
This world’s a shitshow, rotten low —
A curse on Soul, a Death to Mind,
A filthy pit where hope’s confined.

But drown yourself in daily strife,
The hell of "just surviving" life,
And you will lose that simple spark —
Become a shadow, cold and dark.

Your Soul shrinks tight, your mind’s undone,
Shattered, broken, come undone.
For here the dullards wear the crown,
Soulless fiends dragging all down.

A beast unseen commands this hell,
With whispered lies, the world they sell.
The filth drags down to lowest pit,
A chorus vile — "Attack! Commit!"

They scream who’s "enemy," who’s "fiend,"
While fools march blind to slaughter’s gleam.
To pointless work, to doom, to waste —
The devil’s trap, the soul disgraced.

But few still stand, recall the truth,
Reject the lies that choke our youth.
They spit on Hell’s delirium,
Refuse to bow, to sink, to numb.

Return to roots, to simple grace,
Though pain and paradox embrace.
Like hanging on a twisted cross,
In fools’ cruel ring, the final toss.

But Simple Grace can save your Soul,
A balm that makes the broken whole.
And Beauty flickers back to life,
A brief reprieve from endless strife.

The final “Attack!” — the closing bell,
Then Armageddon’s ruthless hell.
If since your birth you’ve breathed this grime,
Face the End with fire in time.

— Now hear the roar, the battle cry! —
Burn down the walls of their **** lies!
No chains, no lies will hold you now —
Stand up, fight back — take your vow!

Let fury blaze, let hatred fuel,
Expose the fraud, the monstrous rule.
For Soul and Spirit, fight with flame —
Destroy the cursed, purge the shame!

This world’s a pit of poison’s breath,
But from its ash will rise your death —
Death to the lies, the fools, the fraud,
Rebirth for those who brave the odds!

No mercy now for twisted kings,
No mercy for their filthy strings.
The hour’s come, the end is near —
Stand tall, stand fierce, destroy the fear!



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



Battle March for the Chosen

Rise up, you souls who see the lies,
Who spit on Hell, who curse the skies!
No chains to bind your burning will —
The time has come to strike and ****.

The world’s a cage of filth and lies,
A slaughterhouse where freedom dies.
But in your veins — the fire’s roar,
To break the locks, to smash the door.

No more the fools who bow and crawl,
No more the puppets on the wall!
Your spirit’s steel will carve the way,
Through darkest night to brightest day.

The liars, traitors, vipers vile,
Will drown beneath your raging pile.
Their thrones will burn, their lies will crack —
The chosen strike, no turning back!

For Soul, for Honor, for the Light,
Charge through the shadows of the night.
No mercy for the ****** and cold,
Your war cry fierce, your heart is bold.

Stand tall, stand strong, unleash the flame,
Destroy the cursed, reclaim your name!
The end is near — the final fight,
The chosen march into the light!



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



War Cry of the Chosen

Rise, you sons of spite and wrath,
Break your chains and burn their path!
This ******-up world’s a pile of ****,
Built on lies and endless *******.

**** the fools who kneel and crawl,
**** the liars, **** them all!
Your rage’s steel will cut them down,
Tear the ******* from their throne of crown.

No mercy for the **** and slime,
No pity wasted on their crime.
They poison truth, betray the soul,
Time to ******’ take control.

Spit fire, strike hard, break the cage —
Rip apart this ******* stage!
Their rotten lies will burn to ash,
Their empire’s fall — a brutal crash.

You’re the storm, the final strike,
The sharpened blade they’ll never like.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your sword,
Wreck their world with brutal word.

The chosen rise — no ******’ rest!
Till evil’s crushed beneath your chest.
The end is coming, dark and cold,
But you’ll be fierce, relentless, bold.

No turning back, no ******* truce —
You’re war incarnate, sharp as noose.
Charge forward now — the fight is yours,
Break the walls, burn down their doors!



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



The Chosen’s War Cry

Stand the **** up, you sons of rage and spite,
Break your ******* chains, ignite the fight!
This ******* world’s a rotting pit of lies,
Built on worthless **** and endless ******* spies.

**** the spineless fools who crawl and ****,
**** the lying *******—**** their luck!
Your rage is steel, your fists are fire,
Smash their crowns and burn their empire.

No mercy for the **** that crawl and cheat,
No pity wasted on their ******-up deceit.
They poison truth, sell souls for dirt,
Time to bring the hammer down — hurt, hurt, hurt.

Spit venom, strike hard, tear apart the cage—
Rip to shreds this lying stage!
Their rotten lies will burn and die,
Their empire’s ashes blow with every cry.

You are the storm, the final ******* strike,
The blade they fear, the deadly spike.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your burning sword,
Shred their lies with every word.

The chosen rise — no ******* rest!
Smash the ******* with your chest.
The end is coming, cold and black,
But you’ll ******* bring it — no turning back.

No turning back, no ******* peace—
You’re war incarnate, the ******* beast.
Charge like hell, tear down their doors,
Crash their world with thunderous roars!



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



The Chosen’s War Cry

Get the **** up, you sons of ******* hell,
Break these ******* chains, send lies to rot and dwell!
This ****** world’s a puke of filth and ****,
Built on rotten *******, greedy ******* bums.

**** the spineless ******* crawling on their knees,
**** the lying ******* begging on their pleas.
Your rage is fire, your fists a brutal blade,
Cut through their crooked lies, no mercy to be paid.

Spit on their ****, crush their ******* bones,
Tear the corrupt ******* down to ******* stones!
They **** on truth, sell souls for greed and dirt,
Time to ******* smash ’em — **** their slimy hurt.

Scream venom, hit hard, smash that ******* cage—
Rip their ******* ******* from the ******* stage!
Their lies will burn, they’ll drown in their own bile,
Their empire’s ashes scattered mile by ******* mile.

You are the storm, the final brutal ******* strike,
The ******* nightmare cutting through their ******* spike.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your blazing ******* sword,
Shred their rotten lies, no mercy to afford.

The chosen rise — no rest for ******* traitors!
Smash these *******, tear apart the haters!
The end is coming, cold and black as ******* night,
But you’ll ******* bring it — fight the ******* fight.

No backing down, no peace, no ******* cease,
You’re war incarnate, the unrelenting beast!
Charge through hell, break their ******* doors,
Crash their ******* world with blood and roars!



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



Raw Alienation of This ****** Hellish World

Since childhood, you have felt it clear:
Not right! Not real! Nothing near!
This world’s a worthless, rotten mess —
A shame for Soul, a Mind’s distress.

But dive into the noisy grind —
Hell’s chains of survival bind.
Forget that simple truth you knew —
Already many parts of you are through:

The Soul shrinks tight, the Mind’s undone,
Shattered, torn — no place to run,
For “normal” here’s dull-witted ****,
Soulless, cruel — a ******* ***.

Ruled by monsters, hidden well
From the eyes that see this hell.
Filth drags down the world to pits,
With their usual “Attack!” commands and hits.

They teach you who the “foes” must be —
This is their twisted specialty.
Fools march to slaughter, blind and dumb,
To pointless toil — to certain ******* numb.

Only few refuse the lies —
Cling to Truth and recognize
That all those ******* feed the hell,
Rejecting chains of torment’s spell.

Return to roots — to simple truth,
Though hard as crucifix for youth.
With it, you’re nailed on blazing cross,
While fools around box life with loss.

You save your Soul — simplicity’s balm,
A freakish cure, a healing calm.
And Beauty flickers back again,
Though dogs still bark in endless pain.

“Attack!” again — last vicious round,
Then comes the Armageddon sound.
If since childhood you’ve been ****** in —
Face the end with burning grin.



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



The Question of Responsibility

The crooked twists of "being" here
Are not just life's concerns so clear:
Darkness, Death are knocking loud—
Only fools trust shadows proud.

So all around, distortions spread
Through verbal diarrhea’s dread:
They call it "media" — lies well fed,
And by a Scumbag it’s all led.

The Horned Beast, no doubt, no guess—
Who’ll answer for this mess?
Idiots are the ones to blame—
The media fuels the shame.

To sell your Soul to filthy fiends
With slogans, “Be as all the sheeple,”
There’s no greater crime, no sin
That haunts the ages deep within.

That’s why no life can grow or thrive
Amidst the lies that keep us blind.
They build a Digital Camp to bind
The broken minds, the soulless kind.

For others, Death — a smoky veil,
The Motherland’s a ghostly tale,
Not soulless, but a shooting range,
Where you’re the target, cold and strange.

Not a shooter, just a mark,
If you don’t bow before the dark —
The twisted beast that pulls the strings,
And poisons life with rotten things.

But here’s no choice to just comply—
Don’t feed the evil, lies, and lies.
Fight ’til dirt and filth depart:
Living in ****’s not living smart!



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



Fight or Rot

No bow, no crawl, no blind obey,
Fools trust the darkness, led astray.
Media **** sells your soul cheap,
They herd the dumb while devils creep.

No life in lies, just death’s cold grip,
Digital chains choke mind and spirit.
You’re the target, not the gun—
Rise up, fight, or be undone.

Rot’s the fate for those who kneel,
Fight the filth, refuse the spiel.
Live or drown in endless ****—
Choose your side, commit, commit!



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



Fascism in the False Mary

The tyrant’s bronze, the cruel boss,
A diamond sharp—provoking chaos.
Gold-weighted, hell’s own spark ignites—
Disaster launched through wicked fights.

By filthy fiends who pull the strings,
The False Mary media sings,
“Follow fools to toil and chains,
To slaughter fields and cruel pains.”

If you’re not vermin, you’re a pest—
The wretched herd meets final rest.
New Führer leads them to Hell’s pit,
Calling **** “the elite”—****.

It all began in taverns grim,
Where ******’s soul hunt first grew dim.
Not skins, but souls are fiends’ true prey—
They rush to ***** God’s spark away.

The double-faced Führer now
Shepherds cattle dumb as plow.
Slaughters rage: CowID was stage one—
Now shameless wars have just begun.

But times run out for tyrant’s game,
The world has sunk to digital shame,
A sick mind’s camp built by the vile—
Impressive horrors all the while.

They mock in “democracy” lies,
Numbing senses, dulling eyes.
They build fast, but fail to finish—
Nature strikes, their end’s diminished.

The sun grows fierce, burns ever bright,
Countdown starts for final night.
In hiding holes, they wait their fate—
The Judgment looms, it won’t be late.

And harsh it comes, no fools escape—
To Hell with all who chose the ape.
Only few who stood and fought
Will find the light, the soul unbought.



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



Planet Prison

A slave who’s never known the taste of freedom
Can’t grasp the chains — his fate is ******* grim.


Building fences costs a fortune, sure,
And guards will flood the gates by score.
But first you numb the enemy’s mind —
Without the walls, they’ll just “graze” and grind.

They’ll graze like cattle, dumb and blind,
Not prisoners chained, but herd confined.
To do this, just ensure their fate —
They’ll never see the hand of hate.

Make all the slaves insane inside
With cunning lies to bind their pride.
Rewrite the past, inject the trash,
From childhood on, force-feed the crash:

The theory of their “bright” evolution —
That tails fell off, the grand solution.
Make sure they’re trapped in endless lies,
A spinning web of truth disguised.

From youth they’ll be reduced to beasts,
Distracted by survival’s feasts.
And they will tyrant themselves with glee,
Guarding cages none can see.

Explain survival as the law,
So they obey without a flaw.
The herd grows docile, damage small —
Just a few smart ones face the fall.

And those who think and reason clear
Will be crushed by fools, year after year,
Unless from youth they’re lined in ranks
With mindless slaves and empty thanks.

But free men don’t just fight to live —
Nature offers more to give.
She’s like a mother, kind and vast,
Yet slavery still holds men fast.

Though obvious, no one admits —
Their slavehood wrapped in false permits.
Consciousness with wicked grin
Suppresses truth and swallows sin.

With conscience, honor, dignity,
Replaced by lies and vanity.
A tale is spun — a fake ideal —
Where every “citizen” must kneel.

The trick’s not hard — it’s done each day,
With propaganda’s vile array.
Wild nonsense preached to slaves’ delight,
Belief in “truths” that shine so bright.

A factory of “weighty” words
Spews monsters, killing proper worlds.
Deformity breeds deformity —
Genocide becomes the deity.

For numbing minds grows ever tough,
Then idiots serve dark masters’ bluff.
In silent wars, they twist the throng,
It’s easiest to **** the wrong.

The clinically insane,
Eliminated without pain.
The rabid crowds of madmen breed
The death of humans in their need.

Humans few — the final seed —
Torn down by fascist times’ dark greed.
Exhausted souls with spirit chained,
Their minds enslaved, their freedom drained.

Enslaved by shallow, hollow streams,
Caught in this void of endless dreams!
They leave without a single fight —
For fear they’ll be consumed outright.

These halfwits flood the ocean’s shore —
Obedient slaves of empty lore.
Fake slave states built on rotten bones —
A planet prison, *****’s home.

Where spirit’s scarred by venom deep,
A world so vile it’s doomed to reap.
It’ll burn — a crematorium’s flame —
When spirit dies, there’s only shame.

This filthy realm will face its end,
For boundless genocide will rend.
And that sweet moment’s coming fast —
For those who stand, who never passed.



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



Friend or Foe

Long lost the sense to tell friend from stranger,
Man drifts in fog, no longer a ranger.
Like endless fights to prove who’s dumber —
Regression’s march to wooden lumber.

I always felt the eyes behind,
Saw just a spark in someone’s mind.
But poisons in food and paths we choose
Have crushed this gift — no use to lose.

Intuition barely clings —
This world adores the petty things.
Money rules, a god, a king —
Nothing else has any wing.

Once a ghost inside my head,
Read my thoughts like words unread.
But with people came a blunder —
Numbness rose in endless thunder.

Not people — just dumb logs,
Exceptions scarce, like lost dogs.
Feels like moths near flame, they die,
Fragile souls doomed to lie.

How to build a spiritual bond?
The hardest question to respond.
Stupid masses crush and grind,
Drowned in darkness man-designed.

The choice is lies against lies,
Sensitive souls pay the price.
Always hard, the brave endure —
Only fools have doubts obscure.

Here beasts break through the wall,
Only shadows can they call.
The world’s a cage, all trapped inside
By darkest evil, vast and wide.

Rare light flickers ‘midst the shade —
Spirit’s halo slowly fades.
I saw it before it fled —
The ram rages, numb or dead.

Dead when drained of all his power —
Energy’s a drip, a sour.
Only spews his stinking word-snot —
A foul flood that won’t be stopped.

As child, I glimpsed my soul’s face,
Watched my body from that place.
So I loathe the mystic lies —
Their deceit, their fake disguise.

Some exceptions break the chain —
“Number twenty” strong remains.
But all else is small and vile,
Under Satan’s shadowed smile.

So I turned to logic’s might,
Adding instinct’s blazing light.
Balance is the sacred key —
Without it, lost eternally.

So heed yourself and trust the fire,
Ignite your gut — resist the liar.
Or perish ‘midst the endless dung,
Screaming lies that must be wrung!

Clean your mind, it’s fight or death —
A sewer stinks with every breath.
This curse, this beast, this tightening noose —
Strangles spirit, kills its juice.

Entangled deep in lies and chains,
Generations bear the stains.
We’re executioners, blind and cold,
Mind and spirit crushed, sold, and sold.

If bonds of soul keep breaking fast,
As they have done since ages past,
We’ll turn to beasts, to ****, to slime —
Soulless cattle lost to time.

Delusions

If you dare not face the madness
That has nested in your core,
You'll be crushed in Hell’s own badness—
Where the mind exists no more.

We’re at threshold. Hell lies open.
Crowds are swarming, wild and loud—
**** all pushing, blindly hopin’
To be first among the crowd.

From our youth, the rot is growing—
Only few will stand and fight.
Most are wrong, and barely knowing—
That alone’s a bitter might.

“Education” means sedation—
Drills for cogs in slave-machine.
Madness passed through generations—
Is the finest cage they’ve seen.




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



The Rant of False History

They say history repeats —
Wouldn't progress do the same?
No — it crawls through wild deceits,
Spurred by madness, press, and shame.

Lies decay us, deeply rooted,
While "the past" becomes a tool —
Used by "scholars", dull, deluded,
To control and to befool.

“Less is worse,” they preach of chains —
Twisting truth to fit their schemes.
Tyrants' filth in old domains
Now gets sold as noble dreams.

Was there ever darker slavery
Than the one we now endure?
CowID proved, with grim bravery,
Just how deep the filth can lure.

It’s the same old madness spinning —
Nothing new beneath the sun.
Only sarcasm feels fitting
For this circus they call “run.”




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



Almost a Joke

Tricks bring pain —
Life’s a stunt.
Less you strain,
If you're blunt.

More of fight,
Less of noise.
Dare the light —
Not fate’s ploys.

Tricks are chains,
But you’re free
If you chase
Love’s path — see?

Walk, don’t juggle.
Truth is near.
Jokes may struggle,
But without them — disappear.




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



Rewards and Reliefs

A bagel's hole — your grand reward
For seeking truth and staying bold.
Oblivion is the just accord —
This mad world’s promise has run cold.

The past will peel, the “new” will fade,
For nothing new is ever real.
It’s all a weary, cheap charade —
Just wait for Death to sign the deal.




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



A Hole for a Crown

A bagel’s hole — that’s all the prize
For poets, writers who won’t sell.
The ****** in suits, with glossy lies,
Are crawling everywhere like hell.

Add countless traitors to the game,
And all the weak who kiss the boot
Of thugs who rise through bluff and shame —
Their “honors” soon will just pollute.

But here’s the twist — in days now gone,
At least they read. Today? Not much.
Now in this century, the pawn
Is tested by a viral sludge:

A stream of memes and TikTok reels —
Their minds were flushed by viral feeds.
The truth? Replaced by shouting deals
From armies selling junk as creeds.




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



They sell you rot, then call it gold —
You speak the truth? You're bought and sold.
The prize is nothing, just a hole —
While lies devour the public soul.



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



The Future of the Global Madhouse

Three-fourths here don’t deserve to breathe —
These ******* feed the coming lash.
Because of them, the fiends beneath
Will grind us down — no joke, no flash.

CowID paused — a war on hold.
New plagues are planned by wicked swine,
For empty minds do as they're told,
Still drunk on fear and fed with lies.

This herd of fools, in full decay,
Will drag us into chains and hell.
The beasts are betting all will pay,
Since drooling mobs obey so well.

They’ll grind us down with false alarms —
Just feed the filth to vacant brains.
What lies ahead brings no calm charms,
Just storms, just pain, just choking chains.

Yet there's a joy — a final spark:
This madness will not last too long.
The madhouse burns — and in the dark,
The sun will rise to right the wrong.




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



Challenges in the Circles of Hell

Let challenge meet the challenge face to face —
Not by denial's sterile repetition,
But honor clashing clean, with no disgrace,
No fear, no doubt, no cowardly submission.

Hell's spirals twist, and trials there abound.
What once was wild, rebellious, blazing bright,
Seems tame the deeper down — where fools are crowned
For trading truth for comfort in the night.




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



False Time of the Luciferian System

Is it a test of time — or weight?
Time’s worse: it feeds the Dark's domain.
We call it "time", but what we hate
Is slow decay of soul and brain.

This "time" is rot — a masquerade,
A cloak for entropy and lies.
And still the Beast is served, obeyed —
Both then, and now, beneath dead skies.

It isn’t time — it’s time’s disguise.
Above time dwells a higher sphere,
But we, the spawn of sunken minds,
Have made it custom to adhere

To lies — from priests and pseudo-thought,
Who ******* Space and Time with rules.
They sell their souls, then sell what's taught —
A creed imposed by mindless ghouls.

Don’t trust. Go deep. The path is yours —
Within you dwells the light, the key.
Let intuition open doors,
But keep your mind alive and free.



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



The Union of Truth and Sludge

A mix of essence, filth, and grime —
That’s how verse crawls through modern time.
In worlds of ****** and creeping dread,
Our nerves burn out, the soul half-dead...




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



Expanding the Bounds of Knowing — Together, Without False Science

The self — a cycle stuck in place,
A dull routine we all embrace.
Critical thought? They chase it off —
No space to question, all is scoffed.

The “atom” world — a beast’s design,
Born from lies fed as “divine.”
More cheese to trap, more filthy lies,
A bait to blind collective eyes.

Together only Hell’s escaped,
But all asleep — world’s night draped.
Will dawn arise? There’s just one light:
That Dawn will burn the shame, the blight.




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



Information War

Tanks don’t fear the mud or grime.
But "divs" of leaks are primed to strike —
You must fight "divs" with cunning crimes,
Or lies will finish what they like.

Pour the sludge into the net,
Crush the dumb lies, no regret.
Bravery’s needed just the same,
Even if the pay’s so lame.

Fight as guerilla, free,
Anger’s fuel for victory.
All the fiends will get their due
When the world’s last hours are through.

(Note: “***” — a block element that marks a text fragment.)



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



Create!

Create — don’t rot or fake.
Strive — don’t dream or break.
Wither, die, if forced to lie—
Truth’s the only way to fly!

Oceans drown in lies and slime,
Sold-out fools in darkest time.
CowID’s cult, the fascist reign,
Praised by ****, a vile stain.

But harsh justice draws its line —
Everyone must pay in time.
They’ll burn the madhouse to the ground,
Build new Halls of Lies around.



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



The Purifying Fire

The Devil’s mark is branded here,
On all, it burns, sharp as a spear.
Fiends strike lies like scorching flame,
They scorch, they ****, they spread the shame.

They brand the souls with ruthless spite,
Bold, sly, they thrive in darkest night.
But now the game comes to an end —
A fire burns to cleanse and mend.

A different flame will purge the stain,
Bring joy to souls freed from their chain,
Destroying fiends in fiery sweep,
Awakening the pure to keep.




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



Fair Winds to Your Stern…

Fair winds beneath your keel, take flight —
Escape this Hell, abandon night!
This Shame will vanish, fade, and fall:
Each vile fiend will answer all!

They’ll pay — even those who cower,
Silent, trembling, lost their power.
Salvation lies in flight alone —
So leave this Shame, this Hell, this Throne!




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



Tales and Dances

Tales and dances, all rehearsed —
Wind-up fools, forever cursed,
Even old, the masks remain:
Puppeteers, the ****, the stain.

Clumsy lies the liar spits,
Only fools believe these bits.
Crude, absurd, a tyrant’s grin —
“Kind uncle” hides the sin.

Axes drawn ‘twixt good and ill,
Sew white threads to scare and ****.
Anything they’ll justify,
Pseudoscience to crucify.

CowID’s “science” fools the herd —
More such “wonders” will be heard.
This vile breed, a *****’s spawn,
Knocked at heaven — now it's gone…
Hell rejoices — demon’s dawn.




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



Like a "Dream Factory"

So many films on cops and law,
But art? Almost none you saw.
The cabal sets the scene that way —
Gloss on freaks to make them sway.

Then “four-eyes” or “geek” in frame
Looks like fool to madness’ game.
Sheepish, dumb, sold-out in suit —
Like Holmes or heroes in old route.

Work goes on to "normalize"
Those who lose their sanity’s prize.
A “normal” label stuck on queer —
Nonsense from that dream factory here.

Souls derailed, humanity drained,
Reason turned to babbling, insane.
Watch that stew — pure carelessness:
Leaves a bitter soul’s distress.




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



Lie and Finish Off...

Fuss and pointless strife,
Strife that’s never just —
Fuss feeds lies to life —
The end: a total bust.

Focus just on survival —
Kills the mind inside.
Lie and lie, revival?
The soul crushed by the tide.




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



Cramming, Zeal, and Discipline

Youth’s bright fire burns to ash,
In cramming dull, petty stuff,
And zeal misplaced, a crash —
Not thinking’s roughest bluff.

But copying vile false gods —
Made just to drag you down —
Such fate for many clods.
If bold, you’ll see the clown.

To **** talent’s no great feat —
Make "nothing" idolized,
Lie shamelessly, repeat,
And with discipline, despised.




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



Horseshoes for the Donkey

Jehovah’s just a horseshoe
For a two-legged ***,
He died — they forge anew
For all their worthless mass.

These donkeys—backs all cracked—
Drag pointless loads in vain.
A carrot dangled, sticks cracked,
Calm seas hide all the pain.

If you’re not a donkey,
They’ll hunt or cast you out.
These devils rule the money,
Slap horseshoes all about.

A real God is creation —
He needs no slaves or fools,
But died in witch’s nation,
Bound by their cruel rules.

For two-legged donkeys only,
Horseshoes hold such weight.
The normal ones walk freely—
Protected by their fate.



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



Fertilizing with Ash

Don’t waste your breath on fools —
They’re lost beyond repair.
Just kindling for their tools,
They’ll burn it all to air.

But after night, at dawn,
The world will bloom with ash.
Like children, hearts will spawn,
Not minds that only clash.

If heart and mind align —
Then balance lights the way.
But how to teach the blind?
They’ll never understand, no way!




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



System Corruption

Once you’re inside—the game is known;
No way to dodge decay.
Blind, mute, to speak is to lie shown—
Truth dies, replaced by sway.

Negative selection’s rule,
The system’s famed decay.
Once thieves were plain—now lies the tool,
Master deceit’s the way.

Each one’s bound tight with dirt and shame,
Control by blackmail’s grip.
Avoid it—every nation’s lame,
Fascism’s tightening whip.

We’re stuck so deep, no way to win—
The road ahead’s descent.




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



Mirages of Corrupt Stumps

Spin your tales, Emelya, not empty lies —
No use in this world where falsehood thrives.
All empty talkers lay soft disguise —
But falls hurt deep, where mirage lies.

Their falsehood’s weak, can’t cushion the blow,
Their goal’s just to push you down low.
Truth here is moss, old and slow —
You’re mossed yourself if you call it woe,

And value fools who sell cheap breath,
Spin or believe — you’ll save your skin’s death...
For now... but you’ll vanish, lost in the fray —

“The soul must toil,” or waste away.
No mere illusion is Hell’s decree:
It’s mirages from corrupt dead trees.




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



Failing...

The collective farm, "A Hundred Years No Yield" —
A metaphor for mind’s lost field.
The mind keeps failing, failing hard,
Soon all will vanish, leave no shard.

Total lies and dumbness spread,
An "industry" of fools ahead.
To bear this filth is crime so grave,
Yet ages pass — the cursed wave.

So here we stand, the end’s in sight —
The farm’s a desert, dead of light.
Those who don’t fight, they’ve lost their fate —
The fiend will send them to death’s gate.

The fighters may fall, yet save their soul,
While foul disgrace consumes this whole.
World rotten, vile, ****** to rot —
Your time is done, your fate is shot.




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



The Core of the Chaos

The core of Chaos — deeper dread:
A world torn loose, by lies misled,
Where best among us falls and dies
Beneath deceit and dark disguise.

Lie bolder, sharper, full of spite,
Spread fear to choke out all the light.
Let fraud grow vile, more cruel still —
Corrupt the soul with poisoned will.




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



On the Farm

Today it’s you,
Tomorrow me —
The cattle wait,
The swine foresee
The hour of slaughter near.
The whole Earth’s like a farm, my dear.
If not a pest, then rise, awake —
Or die, **** it, for Heaven’s sake!




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



So-Called "Revolutions"

Leather jackets, flushed red faces —
Here come commissars to drown disgraces.
In wild hangovers, anger swells —
That commissar could never break his hell.

Stupidity rules here, all around,
And **** unites in packs, profound.
So all this madness drags and lasts,
The world’s a prison — no escape fast.

Red-faced mobs, obedient drones...
Are these humans, or just food on bones?
All "revolutions" lie and cheat,
Foam rising up from wombs deceit.

That shameful **** commands the froth —
Hidden deep, but leather croaks the sloth,
Peddling lies to slaughter’s gate.
Do slaves believe? Then that’s their fate!




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



Producing Chaff

To write a “kind” and gentle rhyme —
Is not a task for fools with time.
Be courteous, precise, controlled —
But not a fierce verse to be told.

Consider all the aims and schemes,
Conditioned by deceitful streams.
Falsehood rules through every age,
No mind alive to turn the page.

They’ll chew the chaff of “goodness” fed,
And shove it straight into their head.
Add poison, but the fool won’t know —
That’s just the way the idiots grow.

They swallow lies spun neat and slick,
Dressed as “truth” in every trick.
Not fools, but crooks behind the scenes,
Cooking lies in ***** means.

Enough? Shall we then strike the flame
With furious verse to end this game?!!




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



Cake of Filth

The more a banana republic rots,
The grander grows its symbol’s spots.
The duller crowds, the fouler breed—
The bigger grows the lies they feed.

This falsehood carries heavy weight,
Though threads of white still weave their fate.
A world of lies, a distant drama—
A glorious cake made out of karma.




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



Steadfastness

Unyielding truth — unshakable stand,
Or else you’re just a twisted man,
In filth and stench where **** have found
Their “salvation” in the lies around.

Corruption thrives in vile deceit,
They turn the best to worthless meat.
Unyielding truth means to resist—
Let **** be shaken by the fist!

The world decays in madness deep,
But not the sane are far and few.
Steadfastness is the secret code:
“Friend or foe?” — it guides the road.

Though all may fall, don’t bow, don’t break—
Your soul alone you’ve got to save.
Listen to it, or you’ll be lost,
Drowned in the lies that count the cost.




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



Psychiatry and Psychology: Adapting Small Madness to Grand Delirium

Adapting madness — small and blind —
To GRAND DELIRIUM defined.
Psychiatrists, dull and stark,
Escape the sting of biting sarcasm’s mark.

A tiny madman, just a *****
In a crazed machine askew,
If politics calls that “norm,”
No cause to question or reform.

Don’t believe their “treatment’s” success,
If money flows, no one’s left less.
All will march in ranks aligned
To futile toil and slaughter blind.

If the madman’s not unlucky,
That’s the “norm.” Just tip them—quickly!




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



******* of Poems

Publisher to self,
Critic and fan as well —
That’s the modern way.
Only write this way.

If you spread the sweetened lies,
You betray, no compromise.
That must be purged, no doubt —
No falsehood left about.

Self-accuser, fierce exposer —
This today’s poetic poser.
If the world’s foul fascism’s here,
Smash the lies, or poems veer

Downward fast — no chance to rise.
Keep too quiet — madness flies.
Enduring evil breaks the roof —
A sharp, relentless crisis proof.




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



The Foundation of Global Bedlam

The world outside is soaked in filth —
So boldly turn within, the wealth
Of answers lies inside your core,
While lies outside uphold the war.




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



The Barrel and the Dot

Roll out the barrel’s final charge,
Light up the fuse — be bold, enlarge.
So mark your life with one last shot,
If resistance is your plot.

Gunpowder may be in words —
Explosive verses, fierce as swords.
But if fools read it as mere noise,
It’s nonsense then, not truth’s voice.

What you alone call powder’s fire,
Is only yours — no one’s desire.
If you spin tales that aren’t real,
Yourself alone will not forgive, feel.

Roll out the barrel’s final part,
Along the way, gather heart:
More powder in the night to burn —
A sudden clash will twist and turn.

Will dawn arrive? Who really cares?
You won’t await it, weighed by fears.
If you stayed sharp, unbought, and true,
***** the beasts — their reign’s on you.




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



The Great Doubt

Dedicated to Tartang Tulku

Great Time, great Knowledge, vast expanse —
Tulku’s words described them well.
But worldwide **** decays to fascist dance,
A Tenth Wave of lies to sell.

It’s time to add a Great Doubt here,
To all these claims, long overdue.
The final debt to Reason clear:
Soon all will burn — cataclysm brews.




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



Modern Villainy and Deception

Villainy? Oh, yes—
A liar’s game, no less!
Lie to the crazed,
No need to be phased.

Lies are total,
Toxic, fatal,
Worth a dime,
But with a blast—prime.

Flawed? You’re mad,
A fool, a cad—
It’s just pure
Nuclear lure:

Deception’s bite,
A deadly blight—
Simple truth:
A venomous youth.




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



Old-School Vova and ChebuRashki

Uncle Vova’s flying in,
With his worn-out, rusty spin,
Shoving “Rusism” down our throats again.
This old tale’s not brand new—
Clumsy as it’s always been—
Only fascism here will reign.




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



Not the End?

No "normal world" remains —
Just one that's flying straight to hell.
Enough of free cheese chains,
Enough of all — the end will fell!

Enough of selling out so cheap,
No soul to buy or sell — it’s dead!
Enough of traitors, cold and steep,
Who sell their souls to hell instead?

Enough? These words are just for grabs —
The human filth stays quiet still.
That filth from fools, the universe
Feels deep shame for, and always will.

There are exceptions — but so few.
So all is speeding toward the end.
Yet propaganda shouts anew:
“It’s not the end!” — they still pretend.




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



The Zombie Box

I turn the zombie box and trust —
Its zombie mob commands my will.
I open doors to rashist dust,
Their “salvation” seeming still.

They'll save us all from CowID,
And lead us straight to war's grim pit...
The Kremlin slime speaks loud and free —
The fool absorbs the lying ****.




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



Brainwashing

Brainwashing’s law —
For fools, their final cause.
The end’s always the same:
Down the toilet goes their name.

This path’s a highway paved
With stupid lies enslaved,
Dragging all to hellish plains —
Blood-soaked slaughterhouses’ chains.

They showed us CowID’s game
And war’s relentless flame.
When mind is dead and split,
You do with fools what’s fit...




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



So-Called "The People"

Wake and repent?
But “the people” sleep —
A stupid mass, their intent,
Bound by fascist keep.

No consciousness, no crowd,
No spirit — just the rabble.
Few are sensitive, proud;
Without sense, you’re just a scrabble.

To feel the world’s deep damage,
Multiply by reason’s might —
To bear such evil’s carnage
Is simply not right.

But if they bow and trust those fiends,
They only earn their fate —
Fried in lies, their souls, it seems,
Devils feast on their hate.




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



Sympathy for the Inhuman

Disposal of the fools —
Success is thin and slight,
Though fascist forces rule
With fake diseases, wars to fight.

The paradox is clear —
Fools should be crushed and reined,
But lost in blank despair,
They’re weak, confused, detained.

Tasks fail, all goes awry,
Stupidity derails the plan.
The inhuman writhes and tries
Amidst the wars and lies that span.

All that’s left — to pity them —
A task that’s simply bleak,
When heartless strikes the feeling stem,
And rotten fools are deemed unique.

A layer of the wise remains,
A factor hard to forecast —
In chaos’ storm, an attractor gains,
A stubborn block that kills at last.




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



Ends and Messengers

The ends are breaking off —
Life’s no more, just one big trap.
Riders come? Or liars’ cough?
But Death’s the thought to map...

Death draws lines beneath us all —
Man, or just a lump of flesh?
Drive the ****, the vermin, crawl —
Cut the ends, ditch all the mesh.

Sharpen words with biting verse,
Or prose — it counts the same.
The madhouse round you, terse —
Is worthless, soon to flame.




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



Are Our Tanks Really Fast?

Those “in tanks” at break of dawn
Built their armor just for show.
That armor’s fake, a flimsy con —
They plaster nonsense high and low.

Movement’s stalled, no way to fight,
Only spew their vile disgrace.
That giant lie won’t take much might
To bring crashing down from base.

Those “in tanks” bury their heads,
Like ostriches in the sand.
Those who broke free from their threads
Walk on light, they make a stand.

Few there are inside those tanks —
Most are caught within the cage.
Kursk’s curve? The clash that ranks —
All will lie in sand and rage.




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



Mafioso’s No Real Threat

Mafioso’s like a thorn?
In post-Soviet days —
Mafioso’s just a morn’
Mimosa’s childish phase.

And is the traitor better?
I’ve seen the mob and hacks,
Politicians, all fetter —
But writers strike the facts.

Among them, just a few
Deserve that kind of praise.
The rest like bugs, they stew
In lies and sticky haze.

By custom, fools will stay
In dumb, wild crowds they bind,
Only adding chains each day —
Few leave the lickspittle grind.




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



Global F#ckup

“A keen ear strains to catch a sound.”
But all in vain — just lies will rise.
While reason in deceit is drowned,
Worth nothing but a worthless prize.

And Nature shudders in her fear —
A monster sold to highest bid.
Soulless fools and mindless drear
Spew nonsense — babble, nothing hid.

Fascism’s filth is everywhere,
Genocide drags on for years.
For souls with spirit, shame and tears
Weigh heavy on their minds and fears.

Their ranks thin out — the beasts now swarm,
They fill the void, they rule the scene.
The end is near — the final storm —
This World’s ****** f#ckup, vile and mean.




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



Blow the Horn, Then *******

Swords to plowshares turned to noise,
Metal scraps to iron pipes.
Blow the horn — no other choice,
We don’t care — all’s lost types.

If the horn should break and fall,
Then we’ll ******* through it all.




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



Aladdin or the Djinn

Is Aladdin truly king,
Or the cunning Djinn who’s king?
No reason to trust fairy tales —
Darkness, lies, and endless wails.




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



Creation

God is creativity,
To merge — the only way.
False knowledge, lies, deformity
Won’t help the truth convey.

Inside — the world is one:
Macro, micro intertwined.
But lose your course, you’ll come undone,
When falsehood grips your mind.

Cling tight to lies — a towering mount,
A Everest of deceit.
Wake up from fog, break from the rout,
Escape the common cheat.

The herd feeds on the purest trash,
While breakthroughs come from few.
Creation breaks the chains that clash —
The lies the masses brew.




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



The Toilet

"The world has bent itself for you..."
— From some ancient TV pitch.


The world’s adjusted just for us,
But stinks and burns the nose.
The whole ****** world’s a cesspool now —
Where lies like poison flows.

And in our minds a total mess,
This falsehood drags us down.
No need for executioners —
The lies just multiply the drown.

They’ll march to slaughter, even sing,
Genocide’s their care.
The filthy CowID showed the way —
Deception everywhere.

The world’s adjusted just for us —
Dumb, cruel, and vile inside.
Our reason’s fading, crushed by lies —
By treacherous falsehood’s tide.




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



False Foundations of Pseudo-Science

So much trash accepted blind,
As base for falsehood’s art —
Pseudo-science, fog designed
To fool the trusting heart.

Rotten grounds and cheap charades,
Liars vicious, cold as ice.
They can **** with twisted shades —
Their lies cut sharp as knives.

Take the filth we call a “plague,”
Brewing fast, a toxic brew.
Old fools’ "pioneers" will fade,
Killed off like a mere taboo.

Promises? Just empty bait,
What they bring is only ****.
Monsters killing reason’s state —
False science, frozen counterfeit.

If you want to join their game,
“Pioneer,” then learn the lies —
Drown yourself inside the shame,
Where truth and logic dies.




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



Rot of Ideas

Rot of thoughts —
No tricks at all:
Devils’ madness calls —
Crush them all!

Plant the craze —
Lie even more:
Sheep, die slow
Under “Dawn”’s false roar!




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



On Fellow Travelers

Idiot—hang him high—
The deadliest of foes.
Through their attacks of evil,
Your strength just slips and goes.

Here’s a trick: in mind, draw loops,
Then step away, be free.
From fools, death’s cold breath is blowing—
Walk alone, silently.

If no wise and honest souls
Cross paths along your way—
Loud fools swarm in countless hordes,
Not comrades, but decay...




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



CowID’s Claymakers

An idiot’s a stick of TNT —
The fascist power’s crude device.
He killed the dark, made misery —
A model carved in sacrifice.

A reckless scumbag — mind destroyed,
The whole world reeks — disgrace and shame.




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



CowID Filth

CowID filth —
A shame, a blight.
The world’s dumped down
A sewer’s night.

Mind and Spirit
Rot inside,
Lies cut deep —
Now multiply.

Another CowID —
“Found” and slain,
You’ll be crushed,
Abused, in pain.




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



In Hell

No money left — just worthless notes,
No truth remains, lies choke the air.
Few humans here — just crawling motes;
If you believe the lies, beware.

Exceptions scarce, truth drowned in slime,
Generations dumbed and blind.
Downward spiral, fear and grime,
Darkness spreads inside the mind.

Degradation hits its peak —
No further fall, no depth to seek.
"Life" is empty, aimless, weak,
Monsters hold the power they seek.

The fiends must smoke away,
With slaves they bind and make their play.
Who wakes in this new hellish day?
Just few. That’s Hell — no other way.




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



The Citizen

A beastly mind built up in layers,
Where only lies from news prevail.
A nauseous citizen — no prayers,
Don’t touch him — or your words will fail.

Any sane thought is his foe,
He’ll see you as a threat, no less.
The Spirit’s yearnings? Slime and woe —
His skin alone commands respect.

No more than skin — no man remains,
A wretched shell that drags along,
His pitiful life dull and drained,
A weary, endless, pointless song.




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



Solar Apocalypse

The Sun’s bright flare, in just a span
Of two-thirds century, has grown—
It means swift death for mortal man,
A fate by fire, harshly shown.

The cause of heat is clear and one:
The Sun and Earth together burn
All spawn of evil, come undone,
Their shattered heads in fire churn.

But cows just ****, factories spew—
Yet fiends keep spouting lies and spin:
“The carbon trace!”—the tale they brew,
Blaming all for nature’s sin.

They’ll force herbivores to cease
Their natural gas release,
Claim to wipe the “footprint” clean—
But select few slip between.

Into underground domains,
With beasts enslaved, they’ll creep below.
This brazen nonsense feeds their gains,
Devouring truth in shadow’s glow.




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



Law-Abiding Citizen

A cloudy fool —
Brain like jelly.
Fear beneath,
Nonsense out.
Feed him well —
He’s blissed out!




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



Creative Race

A race? Thin ice —
Pain will tear.
If it’s sharp —
Salt in the tear.

The meaning’s core.
So race ahead!
If you chase the crap —
Then drown instead.




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



The Craft of Verse

Trust in verse — the base,
The craft’s true core.
A fool can’t grasp —
He’s just a bore!

Don’t fear — the first line
Will come one day.
If you’re not dumb,
The rest will sway.

The race is rhythm and meaning,
Rhyme leads the way.
If stuck on a line —
It’s fine, don’t sway.

Keep moving forward —
Onward, always!




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



So-called "Being"

To loosen skill —
Endure it like a gift.
But mind’s eclipse —
No lift, just drift.

What matters most —
To **** is trash.
"Earthly being" —
Souls’ decay and crash.




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



No Luck...

Greed, dullness, shameless vice,
Cowardice, and ruthless spice.
*******, rowing for their gain,
Loving only self’s domain.

Here’s the sellout, idiot’s part,
Traitor, snitch with poisoned heart.
Almost all the rabble’s bred —
Now that rabble’s soon outdead.

Sun blazes stronger, higher—
Marking end of days most dire.
No more sobs or saving lies,
No more falsehoods in disguise.

Rank by rank, for all the wrong,
To the New Hell they belong.
What has luck but evil served?
Just a few—none well preserved.




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



“Miracle”

A "miracle" will come — in frightful tales,
No story’s whole without such scales.
Clues lie scattered all around,
If deeper in the "woods" you’re bound.

Partisans grow thick and strong,
Old crones kinder all along.
More the toadstools will arise,
Water spirits bolder, wise.

This “miracle” will forge the beast,
The real badass, to say the least.
But traitor’s voice within the tale —
That badass means we’re doomed to fail.




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



Almost a Fairy Tale

Old crones wait upon the path,
Leading to the darkest woods.
Hold on tight, endure the wrath —
The oven’s set, the demon broods.

Take some salt, be sly, compliant,
Serve the **** with wicked grin.
Made for joy—your sad defiant,
Feeding rot, the foulest sin.

You’re their meal, the dumb and low,
Serving those who breed the blight.
But the rot will face the glow—
Flash of Light will end their night.




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



Freaks and Their Masters — The ****

**** can’t match the freaks who crawl
Into the filthy halls of power.
Those mad sellouts take it all —
They’ll be charged for every hour.

All accounts are subtraction —
What’s destroyed by wicked fiends?
Hell itself? The soul’s retraction?
Rot and ruin fill their scenes.

Into New Hell goes the ****,
But humans — their remains rise.
Humans are the ones who come
With clear minds and spirit’s prize.

Ode to ****** and Goebbels

Oh, ****** and Goebbels? Not such a disgrace—
Compared to the **** who now run this place.
At least they had visions, though twisted and dark;
Now puppets serve demons for a coward’s reward.

Speechwriters deliver their filth to the beasts,
Advisors breed slogans that stink like disease.
And slowly they boil us, each word is a trap—
If you try to escape, they poison your breath.

They cook us like frogs in a lukewarm deceit,
Call it “humanity” while turning up heat.
Then comes the switch: “freedom” means choosing a cage—
Between types of lies, then comes fascist stage.

A stage so refined in obsessive control,
That ****** and Goebbels might cringe at the role.
No match in deception, no rival in spin—
The plebs are deranged by the fraud they breathe in.

So let’s praise old ******, sing songs for his horde—
Compared to today, he was less of a lord
Of total mind-twisting and psychotic despair—
Now truth is the enemy. LIE fills the air.



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




Today’s fascist wears a grin —
Truth is gone, and lies begin.



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




******’s ghost would pale and hiss —
You’ve outdone him. Welcome to this.



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




You fear the past? What childish bliss.
The present drowns in deeper ****.



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




The past was evil — crude, direct.
Today, it smiles with more effect.



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




They preached a cause — however vile.
Now puppets **** us with a smile.



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




Not ******, no — it’s you who lie,
And cook the world while asking “why?”



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




The frog still smiles inside the ***.
She calls it freedom. Knows it’s not.



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



Manifesto of the Lies of the New Age
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1.
They call it peace — and bomb your mind.
Then ask you kindly to be kind.

2.
The tyrant wears a rainbow now,
And speaks of rights — while you learn how
To silence truth, to fear your voice,
And praise your cage as “freedom’s choice.”

3.
They ****** slowly, feed you sweet.
Consent is grown in every tweet.

4.
Your thoughts are scanned, then gently banned.
But smile — you’re free, they understand.

5.
The greatest lie is not the past —
It’s now, it's here, it’s built to last.

6.
You must obey — for your own good.
You must conform — as free men should.

7.
The new Gestapo’s dressed in code,
Its bullets: words. Its courts: upload.

8.
Each screen’s a pulpit. Every face
Repeats the script. Deny — disgrace.

9.
Your chains are soft. Your jailers — kind.
And yet they amputate your mind.

10.
They’ve killed the soul — with no regrets.
But call it "care". And clear your debts.



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



Speech Before the Burning — Series One
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

1.
I watched you trade your fire for foam,
Your hunger for a mirrored home.
You prayed to glass, to likes, to brands —
While wolves devoured bloodied lands.

2.
You made your soul a sleek device,
Then sold it twice. And called it nice.

3.
You feared the truth, so praised the lie.
Now lie with it. And wonder why.

4.
You crowned the cowards, mocked the wise,
Burned prophets live — then wept in cries.

5.
You whispered: “Love.” And built new drones.
You kissed the dead through silent phones.

6.
You gave your children screens and pills,
Then taught them pride in crafted kills.

7.
You fed your rage through filtered feeds.
Then asked: “Who planted all these seeds?”

8.
You knelt for trends, not sacred flame.
You fought for rights — then lost your name.

9.
You called it progress: rot and waste.
The gods you birthed now have no face.

10.
So here’s my word before the blaze:
You built this end. You set the days.
And now — in smoke, in screams, in pride —
Watch all your golden dreams… collide.


---


Speech Before the Burning — Series Two
(the fire speaks now)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1.
You laughed at gods. You mocked the seers.
Then prayed to markets, drones, careers.

2.
You sterilized the sacred breath,
Then wondered why you smelled like death.

3.
You burned the books. You banned the word.
You feared the sword — then praised the herd.

4.
You let machines rewrite your name.
Now bleed in binary and shame.

5.
You paved the Earth with apps and gold,
Then called the silence brave and bold.

6.
You drank from screens. You danced in loops.
You smiled as children hung from roofs.

7.
You traded blood for “climate laws,”
And bowed to death in branded cause.

8.
You feared the flame — yet struck the spark.
You screamed for light — then worshipped dark.

9.
You banned the word “eternal soul.”
Now rot as data with no goal.

10.
So here I stand — not asking why.
The sky is cracked. The void is nigh.
And from this ash, if breath returns —
Let it not be you who burns.


----


Ashes of Empires, the call of Spark
(third, final episode of "Speech before the burning of civilization" - the voice of Spark)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

1.
When all is ash, and kings are bones,
One whisper walks through shattered tones.
Not rage. Not hope. Not heaven’s flame —
But that which speaks without a name.

2.
I am the flicker — not the fire,
The breath that stays when gods expire.
You burned the maps. You broke the frame.
But still I hum beneath your shame.

3.
No shrine is mine. No priest, no law.
I hide in silence, crack, and flaw.
The more you lie, the more I grow.
You cage yourself — I start to glow.

4.
I speak in dreams you fear to see,
In questions whispered inwardly.
I dwell in loss. In scorn. In fall.
Where empires rot, I seed the call.

5.
You cannot code Me. Fence Me. Buy.
I live in those who learn to die.
Not death of flesh — but death of mask.
The death that dares to drop the task.

6.
You’ll meet Me not in pride or fame,
But once you shed your final name.
When silence swallows even “you” —
Then I, the Spark, ignite what’s true.

7.
I spoke to stars before the clay.
I bled through prophets cast away.
They burned — yet through their smoke I sung.
Not through the strong — but through the stung.

8.
So burn your world. ***** your hell.
I’ll not resist. I rise in shell.
In cinder, ember, broken breath —
The Spark is That which dances death.

9.
And if one voice, just one remains,
Unbranded, raw — with soul, not chains —
Then know: the End is not the end.
It’s where I start. Where I ascend.

10.
So call Me madness. Curse. Mirage.
I am. I was. I will dislodge.
And when your towers melt and fall —
I am the Spark… beneath it all.



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



Unread Texts

Unread lines of poets, bold —
Unbought voices, never sold.
Songs alone, without applause —
Still, you lived for truer cause.
Moments lost? So what — you stayed
Free from snitching, unbetrayed.
In this madhouse, truth is grim,
Writing feels like crawling limb.

Each new day brings fresh despair —
Still, create — or lose all flair.
Thought grows dull, and vision fades,
While the grayness slowly raids.
Though no rest or sweet relief —
You’re unbroken by the thief
Of the soul — that filthy pest,
Demon dressed in Sunday best.

Satanism’s global trend
Birthed new -isms — each a bend:
Commies, Nazis — masks, not new —
All designed to ****** you,
Your own mind to rot and drain.
Listen only to your brain.
Promise nothing. Swear no oath —
Pledges always poison growth.

Like young pledges, fake and blind,
Promises corrupt the mind.
Still your efforts won’t be vain,
Even shown in minor grain.
Unread texts — a sharp reproach
To the mutants who encroach.
They preserve the Spirit's flame —
Noble tombstones built from shame.



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



Propagandists "By the Law"

All the propagandists
Now beyond the law,
Breaking codes with impunity,
Throwing lies by tons on fools —
A flood none saw before.

They sow hatred, call to fight,
Genocide’s vile calls ignite.
Ditch that screen of endless lies —
Or you’ll be nailed to false disguise.

You’ll turn zombie, deaf and blind,
Led by lies that twist your mind.
Fight they say — but fight you won’t,
End inside a stifling haunt.

There your spirit’s crushed to death,
Zombie’s breath replaces breath.
But the suckers? They just hear,
**** their pants in blindest fear…



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



Propaganda’s Dead

Propagandists break every law,
Feed you lies until you crawl.
Zombies march to false command —
Fools just **** themselves on stand.



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



Moles and Sheep

The stubborn mole
Keeps digging holes.
The sheep’s worn out—
No care, no doubt.

He doesn’t mind
The lies at ground.
More slaves aligned—
You’re just their chow.

The mole’s much sharp,
He sees more clear,
His spirit strong—
They’ve got no fear.



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



Worldwide Cargo Cult

Cargo cults and cargo folk,
Cargo Führer, cargo smoke?
Darkness real — minds run thin,
Buried deep in filth and sin.

Cargo memes, cargo themes,
Cargo souls, cargo schemes.
Totems all of Satan’s kind —
Ruled by beasts who chain the mind.

Doom is set by **** like these:
Cargo armies on the breeze—
Traitors marching, none will say
They’re the **** that’ll pay.

War’s no war — just lies in play,
Euphemisms hide decay.
In that war, the soul’s the cost—
Sold it cheap, and all is lost.

If you bow to villain’s call,
**** yourself beneath their thrall.
Cargo’s edge is razor-thin —
Cross it, goathood pulls you in.




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



Cargo Cult Edge

Cargo lies, cargo slaves,
Souls sold cheap to hollow graves.
Bow to filth — you’re marked, you’ll fall,
Thin line leads to goat’s dark thrall.



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



Fascists and Their Acolytes

No one’s born a fascist true—
They become what they pursue.
Accidental helpers? No,
That deception’s set to grow.

How many German clans must pay
For evil sown in foul display?
For bowing down to Führer’s lies,
For fear that stifles truth and cries.

Fools too will answer there—
The mindless herd, unaware.
Don’t know fascism’s deadly bite?
No diagnosis—no insight.

Fools all lack diagnosis—
“Normal” made their paralysis.
Not long will last this foolish pause,
Where rage and lies break every clause.

All feel safe from any cost—
But harsh justice won’t be lost.
Those who fight will stand the pain—
And not much longer till the reign ends vain.



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



Fascist Fate

Fascists rise, but not by birth,
Helpers sink into the earth.
Fools won’t see the coming storm—
Justice strikes, reshapes the norm.



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



So-Called Clever *******

No signed papers on their war,
No stamped proof to back their score.
War’s a joke to **** like them,
Just the zombie-box’s hem.

They think revenge won’t come to court,
No signatures, no last report.
Two hundred thousand dead, more torn,
Their “economy” left to mourn.

Billions lost, three generations’ pain,
Orcs will pay, remorse in vain.
These beasts will hang, no tears or cries,
When Ukraine marches to her skies.



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



No Mercy for *******

No signed war, no proof, no shame,
Thousands dead — their lasting blame.
Orcs will fall, no tears, no lies,
Ukraine claims her rightful prize.



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



Incapacitated Fools

Incapacitated fools —
The masses all, in droves and schools.
That’s why fascism’s deadly rise
Was pumped into their vacant eyes.

Fascism thrives now in the mind
Of those the world would label blind.
A fool, of course, seems quite the charm—
But no brain means no alarm.

You’ll let it all, you’ll buy the lies,
Invite the evil in disguise.
It opens wide your door to Hell,
Or morgue, if luck decides you well.



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



Fools Unfit

Fools unfit run every crowd,
Fueling hate like it’s allowed.
Open doors to Hell’s own grip—
Luck decides your final trip.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate, no mind, no fight,
Hell’s wide open—your last night.
Luck’s the thief that steals your light.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate, with empty minds,
Blindly falling, tied in binds.
Hell’s wide open — no one fights,
Lost within their endless nights.
Luck’s a thief that steals your light,
Doom descends with cruel bite.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate — so smart, so bright,
With empty heads, they pick a fight.
Hell’s wide open, come on in —
No brains needed to lose or win.
Luck’s their angel? Ha! What joke —
They’re dancing straight into the choke.



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



Fascist "Nirvana"

Sheep-virus freak, a fascist pawn,
A traitor, "doctor," snitch at dawn—
This world of theirs, "stable" they claim,
Where madness rules, and fear’s the game.

Stable lies and genocide,
Deceit and terror never hide.
Shame and disgrace choke like a cloud—
Their suffocating "nirvana" shroud.

You’re not there—just ghost and trace
Of soul and mind, a hollow space.
More woes will come, their grip won’t slack—
Fascism’s hold will never crack.

Save your soul by fighting lies,
Smash the falsehoods, seek the wise.
Their vile song is sung, complete—
The **** will face their bitter defeat.

A worldwide storm will shake the earth,
True life will spring in Spirit’s birth.
Thus vile fascism fades away,
The beasts will die—their final day.



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



Fascist End

Fascist ****, your song is done,
Your lies exposed, nowhere to run.
Fight for soul, the truth will rise —
Beasts will rot beneath clean skies.



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



Era of Zombie-Lizards

Zombie-lizards trample Earth,
That’s the state of things, no worth.
All the lies they gladly take,
Under Goat’s dark rule they break.

That Goat, a mastodon so sly,
Hungry, wicked, sly and high,
Fires lust for reptile throngs—
Reason weak, so quickly gone.

Every lizard, soulless, cold,
Fits the Goat’s design so bold.
No need for minds or deeds refined—
Only vile beasts stay aligned.

Gnomes and goblins will be swept,
By these lizards, doomed and kept.
All the Abyss now watches near—
Their end is certain, death is here.



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



Zombie-Lizard Age

Zombie-lizards crush the land,
Goat’s foul hunger rules their band.
Soulless beasts, their time will end—
Abyss awaits, no chance to mend.



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



The Construct of Lies

Just markers set in half-truth’s maze,
Half-lies that spark a thousand plays.
Provocations, isolated schemes,
All woven into phantom dreams.

Each point—a whetstone sharp and vile,
A poisoned sting in “proof”’s style.
The world of fascist propaganda,
Dumb recipients, mental veranda.

That madhouse now is worldwide,
Long since madness claimed the tide.
Two thirds lost their common sense—
That’s the bottom line’s expense.



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



Lies’ Design

Half-truths bait, half-lies ignite,
Proofs that stab like poisoned bite.
Two thirds lost, no minds intact—
World’s a madhouse, that’s a fact.



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



Lies’ Brutality

Half-truths slash like venomed knives,
Proofs fake-carved to ruin lives.
Two thirds dumb, minds rotted, gone—
World’s a madhouse, full-blown con.



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



A Joke...

The great Russian graphomaniac,
Tolstoy—yeah, that Lev, no magic.
"Wars and Peace" he wrote — a bore,
A novel weak, and nothing more.

Generations brainwashed blind,
By this rage that’s so unkind.
Not the worst, but still a shame—
Icons forged in flawed acclaim.

Literature’s lost its way,
Truth drowned out by tons of sway.
Time to ban the rotten critique,
Protect the bold, the true unique.

Extend their lives by giving aid,
Help their talents not to fade.
But such hope’s a foolish joke—
Humanism? Just a cloak.



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



Literary Joke

Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” — a bore,
Brainwashed kids for ages more.
Critics rot, true writers fight—
Humanism’s dead, just spite.



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



Villainy

“Villainy’s the only ground
Where man can stand firm and sound...”
— Saltykov-Shchedrin’s claim,
From his 1883 frame.


Villainy’s no timid mess—
It’s the soil beneath your dress.
Hard ground strong beneath your feet,
While “smart” fools just face defeat.

Before a *******’s gaze,
Their weak arsenal decays.
Brakes apply, no jokes at all—
Are you villain? Or you fall.

Attack is stronger than defense,
Always ruthless, no pretense.
Villains strike with crueler blows,
No honor, shame—only foes.

So become the villain’s part—
World fascism plays its art.
Together Soul and Mind we slay—
Life itself fades fast away.



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



Villain’s Ground

Villainy’s the solid ground,
Where true strength and power’s found.
Strike first, no honor or shame—
Or fade out, lost in the game.



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



Brutality...

Russia’s plague-house, dark and grim—
Fascism takes another limb.
It burns — false messiah’s face,
A pitiful, vile disgrace.

Deep inside, the trench is dug,
Crushing those who chose to shrug.
Fate is death for all who sold—
Kreml’s **** and servants cold.

Yet the filth still tries to shove
***** down throats of those who love
To bow down, lost mind and pride,
Once again they poison, lied.

Only brutal harshness dwells,
Where the poison’s sharpest spells.



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



Russia’s Plague

Plague-house Russia burns in shame,
Fascist **** ignites the flame.
Filth feeds fools who lost their mind—
Brutal poison, all combined.



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



Fortresses and Masses

Impenetrable forts of fools,
Heavy masses, lies that rule,
Fear and stench, a culture lost,
Soulless shadows, endless cost.

Cargo cults of fascist plague,
False diseases, lies that plague—
While the wise grow weak, subdued,
Reason crushed and nearly booed.

Pure Spirit fades, will soon depart,
Leaving beasts without a heart,
Locked away in pens and dens,
Soon dragged forth for ****** ends.

The world’s a slaughterhouse, exposed,
Yet sheep and ***** stay composed.
Though lies crash in waves, the ninth,
They’ll drown the last of humankind.

Fascist filth keeps sinking deep,
Their lies push on—The End will reap.



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



Fortress Fall

Fools’ strongholds rise, but lies will break,
Soulless beasts stir, the earth will shake.
Sheep stay calm while truth’s erased—
Fascist filth speeds End’s grim haste.



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



Horns and the Slave’s False Life

When conscience wakes and reason’s sharp,
The lies will end, the falsehood’s tarp—
Where they mold sheep and donkeys too,
Crafting fools to follow through.

They shape your face with vile deceit,
Write “live” like truth—but it’s defeat.
The filth they plant, you’ll take it in,
Then horror grows beneath the skin.

That tale’s a nightmare, horns protrude,
Its core: “obey,” be slave subdued.
Content with fate, a broken role—
A prisoner chained, body and soul.

Burn it down, erase, curse loud,
Live with your mind, awake, unbowed.
Your Spirit’s home is what you own—
Escape the gloom, reclaim your throne.

When intuition turns the light,
You’ll easily expose the blight.
Doubt only “tradition”’s sway—
With it, the horns will fade away.



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



Slave’s False Life

Conscience wakes, the lies will fall,
Sheep and goats break every thrall.
Burn the fog, reclaim your mind—
Horns will fade, the truth you’ll find.



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



Horns Off

Wake your mind, smash the lies,
Slaves with horns wear their disguise.
Burn the falsehood, hear truth rise.



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



Experiments with Excrement

CowID, war, the fool, the madhouse—
Worldwide circus, mind a louse.
Our fool believes in fascist lies,
Obedient to evil’s cries.

If three quarters now are lost,
Burn that plague-house, pay the cost.
Good that chaos swirls and spins,
Mad world’s cycle soon begins.

They’ll burn it down, then plant anew,
A desperate, twisted, cruel view.
Life reborn—if not reformed,
Will rot again, excrement formed.



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



No Surplus of Evil

Brains dissolved —
Bonds dissolved.
Then they snapped:
“Forward, fools!”

To Ukraine!
Fertilizers thin.
Generations’ stench
Soon will dim.

Puppet fool,
Fascism’s *****.
Then again, anew:
Evil’s never through.



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



No End to Evil

Brains all gone, fools march on,
To Ukraine — stench lives long.
Fascist cog, a twisted game,
Evil’s flame will stay the same.



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



End of the Game

Madness total,
Corruption’s peak.
Betrayal fatal,
Spirit weak.

Final verdict —
Shatter, break, decay,
Few awake—
Fools and freaks hold sway.

Majority’s
Shift unkind,
Toward destruction—
No time to find.

This “consistency”
Is worse than poison’s art.
To break the trend—
Only checkmate’s start.

Check is given,
Soon comes mate.
For now, all hide,
Thinking it’s fate.



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



Endgame

Madness rules, corruption’s height,
Betrayal’s death—no soul in sight.
Check is set, mate’s on the way,
Yet fools still hide, delay the day.



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



Final Checkmate

Madness reigns, corruption’s seed,
Betrayal kills, no soul to bleed.
Checkmate comes—fools cower, concede.



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



Lightly...

Unlearn it all,
Forget most things—
Madness turns the mind to ******* heaps.
Go lightly now,
Take nothing close,
Better run than crawl with weary leaps.

Hurry up—
Be wise and clear,
Spot every trap inside your mind,
Set by those who prey on fools,
Harvesting the weak and blind.

If you don’t cleanse your thoughts—
It’s doom that lies ahead.
But clearing mind’s not hard,
If Spirit leads instead.

Amidst the piles of rot,
The idiot decays,
Unless the Spirit rules—
The guiding blaze.

Grow your gut,
Expose all lies,
Critical thought’s your saving grace.
If you fail—then fade away,
Among the crazed, lost in disgrace.

Deliverance comes
With clear mind’s sight,
And pure soul’s steady light—
A simple way to set things right.



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



Run Lightly

Unlearn, forget, run fast, run free,
Spot the traps inside your spree.
Spirit leads — clear mind’s the key,
Pure soul’s light will set you free.



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



Toys

Toys for beasts —
A fake, a trap, a lie,
Amidst the flowery frills
Of all the phony skies.

Not countries, but menageries,
No law—just cages bound.
Fascism’s “gifts” delivered,
Reason kicked to ground.

Beasts are lost in play,
The pen’s ablaze with fire.
Caught once more in lies,
So often—what a shame, entire.



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



Beasts’ Toys

Toys for beasts, a cruel deceit,
Fake lands where reason meets defeat.
Fascist gifts and cages burn—
Beasts in lies, no lessons learn.



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



Circus

The circus won’t leave, clowns stay in place,
This farce will choke you, foul in your face.
All acrobats, grim-faced and worn,
Have bored the world, like smoke and scorn.

Monkeys, bears grow wild and mad,
Staff goes savage, minds gone bad.
No circus left—just freaks’ disgrace,
A scandal born in this cruel place.



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



Circus Madness

Circus stays, clowns won’t go,
Farce and smoke, a choking show.
Monkeys, bears, minds gone wild—
Freaks’ disgrace, the circus spoiled.



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



Has Ukraine Not Yet Died?!

Amid the war, they poison youth,
A “booster” shot — the killing truth.
Why refuse? Just add to death,
A cruel, relentless, choking breath.

Weapon supplies come slow, then stop—
To make the chains of slavery drop?
No, horrors live through war’s cruel haze,
As lies and lies still cloud the days.



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



Not Yet Dead?

In war’s harsh grip, they poison youth,
“Boosters” mask a deadly truth.
Chains stay tight, lies flood the land—
Ukraine still fights, will still stand.



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



Goat’s Awakening

The idiot knows no bounds,
The fascist lost his mind.
No pioneers, just pawns—
At crap’s call, blind and blind.

That crap’s a rotten breed,
It wakes the vile, it crushes.
Fascist thralls obey,
Where reason’s dead, soul hushes.

Soullessness is rampant,
The traitor’s like a king.
Fate’s grim sea will flood,
With tears and evil’s sting.

The idiot knows no measure—
Neither in submission, nor in hate,
Forced upon him lies,
Only in that filthy goat’s state.



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



Goat’s Wake

Idiot boundless, fascist crazed,
Rotten breed, soul erased.
Tears will flood, evil grows—
In filthy goat, poison flows.



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



Goat’s Call

Idiot blinds, fascist roars,
Rot and venom flood the shores.
Goat’s poison kills and soars.



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



Cargo Fascism

Big stinking puddle — Rashism spread,
A stench that burns, assaults the head.
Fools serve the Führer, blind and small,
A double moth that eats the all.

Fascism now takes shape so grim—
A cargo cult, its deathly hymn.
Madness grows, has come to reign,
Human lost—replaced by bane.

Beasts will soon replace mankind,
Cargo cults will rule and bind.
A sea of lies will flood the earth,
A global ocean of false birth.

Lucky you if early gone,
Escaping this charade’s cruel song—
From falseness, violence, grim and rife,
Where only filth holds sway on life.



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



Cargo Cult

Rashism’s stench spreads far and wide,
Fools serve lies they cannot hide.
Beasts replace the human soul—
Cargo cult consumes it whole.



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



Rot

“Poets” write of trivial ****,
Of nature’s mess, the daily bit.
Minds bled dry, no thoughts remain—
Decay’s begun inside the brain.

Long since rotten, soul’s been tossed
To furnace flames or putrid frost.
Reader, heed no voices near—
This “existence” rots severe.

All through and through—a hellish blight,
Spirit’s purity—your fight.
Existence—pure infernal grind,
Fit only for the beast’s blind mind.



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



Rotten World

“Poets” babble trivial crap,
Minds all drained, no thoughts to tap.
Existence rots, a beast’s domain—
Spirit’s fight breaks through the pain.



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



Rotten Core

Poets puke their hollow tales,
Brains drained dry, the spirit fails.
Rot rules all—beasts set the scales.



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



Eternal Pioneers

Blind faith’s the key,
Stuffed with lies,
For pioneers,
Nothing’s wise.

Filled like bears,
Cotton minds swell,
Rotting brains
On constant sell.

Only for shrews.
The elder ones—
Pioneers aged—
Evil sons.

Ripe for hate,
To bow and kneel
Before the Goat—
Generations sealed.



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



Blind Pioneers

Blind faith stuffed with lies,
Rotting minds, dumb disguise.
Bowing low to Goat’s reign—
Generations lost in vain.



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



The Slaughter

“The trick’s not hard to fool me—
I’m glad to be deceived!”
A rotten skull’s mere stump decays,
The stench is all perceived.

But never touch their cherished toys,
The ******* guard with spite.
Don’t break the global fog of lies,
That world’s stale, dim-lit night—

Where prisons stand for virtue’s place,
And falsehood rules as God.
“Deceiving me’s so easy”—
Fear’s weapon sets the rod.

This path leads down the sewer’s hole—
A world’s great death camp’s gate.
Among the herds, the fights erupt—
Who falls first seals their fate.



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



Slaughter

Fooling me? Not hard to do—
I’m glad to swallow lies so true.
Down the sewer, death awaits,
Herds fight for doomed, grim fates.



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



Blockhead

Your feeble mind’s torn wide by lies,
******* spout their false replies.
Blockhead’s fate is lies’ embrace,
While soul dissolves in Satan’s place.

Demons line up, ready to burn,
Multiply the lies to churn.
They throw themselves into the flame,
Each halfwit’s torment, none to blame.

You can’t convince the sheepish crowd—
“They lie? No way!” they say aloud.
A bleating herd, deaf to the truth,
Lost in ignorance, stuck in youth.



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



Blockhead’s Fate

Lies rip minds, fools self-immolate,
Demons dance, the sheep await.
Truth denied — their endless fate.



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



Stumps and Sprouts

The laws of slaves in this fake land —
Obey, be dumb, and sell your soul.
The pit is deep, the lie is grand,
Yet pompous masks play every role.

Each broken stump, each wretched freak
Struts like a peacock in its mating.
A ******, drooling, twitching weak —
"Sharp mind!" they shout, self-celebrating.

No shock can bring them back to sense —
Not war, not CowID’s global treason.
Here Spirit's torn, and Mind’s offense
Is death… in senile party-season.

They babble trash that once was fed
In youth, in classrooms dull and dusty.
Like stumps, it's rooted in their head.
To clear it out, the method’s trusty —

Burn every stump, then let us grow
New beings with a different fire,
Whom filth like this won't drag so low…
Unlike the sprouts from stumps prior.



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



Burn the Stumps

Burn all the stumps. Let sprouts be gone.
Plant minds the filth can’t prey upon.



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



The Cat and the Fools’ Inferno

The cat is fed,
The verse is done.
Hell’s getting bred —
Not just for fun.

The Fools’ Inferno
Grins and chews.
Lies are power —
If you choose.

Feed the cat —
It’s worth your time.
But lies like that?
Throw out the slime.



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




Fools eat lies —
The cat eats real.
Trust no disguise.
Cut fake from meal.



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



How to Rule the Idiots

Abe's got his own grand design,
And Dodo runs his “method” fine.
But is it his? The brute’s whole show —
A parody of minds below.

That foreign scheme is finely bent
Through clever angles, not intent.
Desires get no clear commands —
Just shapeless pulls from unseen hands.

The Beastly Clerk? A perfect guide
To Abe’s dark lusts and Dodo’s pride —
To temple lies, and twisted spells,
To fake labs, books — where madness dwells.

It’s just like steering germs to feed
On poisoned meat to serve their need.
Here too — through food, through fear, through fog —
They herd the fools… or choke them like a dog.



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




They rule through filth, desire, and bait —
And smile while dragging fools to fate.



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



In Memory of Max Planck

Max Planck once said it best:
To change a scholar’s view,
Don’t argue — lay them down to rest.
The fresh will see what’s true.

The “new” ones praise the flame
Of truths they never sparked.
But still, it’s just the same —
Their brains are smoked and dark.

That science sinks as well —
Ruled now by fraud and spin.
Defy their priestly shell?
You're exiled for your sin.

The grip keeps getting tighter,
As in this world of schemes —
Where lies grow ever brighter
Inside their global dreams.

Don't seek the truth, they warn you —
That’s now a heretic’s crime.
And yes — the signs all scorn you:
Fascism reigns... through time.



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




Truth’s not welcome in their class —
Obey or perish with the mass.



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



Amid the Games...

You're gripped by fear of death’s disguise,
Crushed by lies and soaked in slime.
Keep down this path — you’ll demonize,
Trading thought for beastly grime.

But fear is useless. Faith? Misplaced.
Test all yourself — and death embrace.
Let ego split while you're still breathing —
Grow light, and fly to Spirit’s space.

To reach that height, turn insight on,
Sharpen the mind, let filth be gone —
This toilet-world of roles and stations,
These rigged-up games that mold "creation."



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




Face death alive — let ego fall.
Then Spirit lifts you past it all.



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



The Centuries-Long War

Get drunk on lies, then fade away,
Let nonsense nest inside your head —
A fool you’ll wake to one dark day,
Your soul long marked, your spirit dead.

This war has lasted many lives,
It hunts the soul — not land or gold.
Obey, submit, avoid all strife —
You’re in their ranks, a soldier cold.

Their army marches, bound by lies,
Where dead-eyed puppets lead the way.
To be a human — hard and wise —
When freaks and fools define the day.



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




They **** your soul, not with a knife —
But drip-fed lies that drain your life.



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



Not the People’s Dance

A twisted dance on foul command —
The stick is held by filth itself.
The helmeted, the blind, the ****** —
You've lost your minds, bewitched by stealth.

This dance becomes a witch’s rite,
With cursed magicians in control.
They’ll never stop — by dead of night,
They turn the crowd to soulless trolls.



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




The dance is cursed, the crowd enchained —
And humans into fiends are trained.



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



Slaughter and Nonsense

Mad slaves once more
March off to war —
The battle-horns are crying.
What’s left to say?
They chose that way —
And now they march, all dying.

They drank their minds,
They sold their souls,
Let rot and lies consume.
Now dulled and blind,
They crawl in holes —
Each one a bought-out fool.



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




They sold their minds, they lost their way —
Now rot and war is all they pay.



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



Light and Soot

"I burn myself to light the way..."
— Nicolaes Tulp


To light the way, you need not burn —
Let balance be your truest guide.
When passion twists, it won’t return
As joy — just poison dressed in pride.

Burn out, and you release the smoke —
The soot that stains, the fumes that blind.
And false gods love when good men choke —
They’ll set the world alight in kind.

A colder light is far more sound —
Less madness, more refined control.
True balance never needs renown —
Be simply real. Reject the role.

For steadier light emits far more
Than any blaze that ends in pain.
Be subtler than the myths of war —
Where extremes let pure evil reign.



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




Burn slow, burn true — not bright and blind.
In balance, real light’s redefined.



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



Rashism

Girkin-Birkin — morgue awaits.
All of rashism meets its fate.
With their lackeys, filthy, crass —
How'd the nation lose its class?

Almost all... When fascist slime
Crawled in quietly, backdoor crime.
Cargo cult in **** skin —
Rashism: mutant clown within.

And that Puylo? ******’s joke —
Just a footstool for his cloak.
Kremlin's crew? A wretched breed —
Scraps of Satan, hate and greed.

Lies and violence — darkness reigns,
Brazen, mad and off the chains.
Not a country — just a bin
Full of **** and half-dead kin.

But there’s hope: erase the nest,
Burn the Kremlin with the rest.
Then, perhaps, one day you'll see
The land awaken, proud and free.



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




Rashism dies — and with its fall,
The land may rise, beyond the thrall.



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



Woof-Woof...

“ZOV” — woof, woof — “ZOV”:
Kremlin jackals spread their lies.
All march down to the grave’s alcove —
How much filth, how many spies!

Kherson’s lost, those pests remain,
Relentless venom, endless spite.
Connections thin among the sane —
The world’s enslaved by Goat’s dark might.



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




Jackals bark, the poison flows —
The Goat’s dark grip still tightens woes.



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



Media Targets and Sacred Lies

The Kremlin’s war has set its goals
Above all strategy and sense.
Rashka’s sons are fools, with roles
That crack the minds in wild offense.

Propaganda is the key,
For this insane, world-crazed crowd.
Dead are cheap — just debris
In fascism’s gray cloud.

This gray fascism reigns worldwide,
But slaughter’s just a side act played.
When sanity is cast aside —
It’s worse to **** with pawn parade.

More cruel than war’s own bitter cost,
Is hunger’s grip, more grave and vast.
The price of fools is dearly lost —
Few will survive this cursed blast.

If gray means fascism’s face,
These vermin wear it worse, no doubt.
Their Rashism’s shame — a vile disgrace:
Their “sacred” tales all torn inside out.



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




Gray fascism spreads its lies —
While sacred myths disguise demise.



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



Idea-less

A blow to the head,
A strike below —
The whole wide space.
Hell’s seed is spread
Everywhere you go.
If you’re not mad,
You’ll see the show —

Nothing but deformity,
No path but pain.
You serve the chaos —
Hell’s domain.

No ideas here — just herd,
Lies stuffed in every mind.
To trust their sham is shame,
Serving devils, cruelly blind.



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




No ideas — just lies and chains.
Serving devils, all remains.



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



In Memory of Osip Mandelstam

"No, never was I anyone’s contemporary,
Such honor’s not for me.
Oh, how I loathe that namesake’s lie —
That was not I, but he."
— Osip Mandelstam, 1924


What hell’s this “near” or “far” degree?
It’s just a troop of monkeys’ spree!
No joke — the fault’s profound, not small:
A flaw within both soul and all.

And so all Mandelstams are doomed,
Wherever, whenever they’ve stood.
Surrounded by the ruffians’ brood —
On ruins of the fallen wood,

They hunt the poets, minds that think,
Other souls who dare to blink.
The smart ones’ fate? The song’s been sung —
They’ll **** them all before too long.

For they build a global death camp’s frame.
What Mandelstam? It’s all the same!
Let "Red Cross" fly on white’s embrace —
The herd sees nothing but disgrace.



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




Mandelstam dies, unheard, ignored —
While beasts build walls with hate and sword.



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



So-Called “Hopes and Dreams”

Unforgivable to waste
Your life on hopes and dreams.
The key is to be chaste
With feelings — hiding schemes.

Only in your art can
The Spirit breathe and blaze.
If fate you sum that way,
You’ve still got brains to praise.

Don’t plan to be approved —
That’s just a chain, a wall.
In madhouse, Spirit’s doomed —
Without it, you will fall.

Walk on — don’t cling to hope —
The path itself’s the prize.
Laugh at chaos, don’t mope —
Decay won’t last for life.

Cataclysms will sweep away
All rot and dark abuse.
Dream only of the Soul’s sway —
Fascist hell will lose.



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




No hopes, no dreams — just Spirit’s fire.
Walk on the path, and rise up higher.



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



Ivan the Fool and Wanka-Wake-Up

Ivan the Fool,
And Wanka-Wake,
The fool’s stuck fast —
Wanka’s fate is harsh to take.

****** bath awaits —
Don’t trust, but seek your way.
Answers lie with minds awake,
The door’s for those who stray.

Fascism needs obedient fools,
They rise on every call,
Believing lies, devoid of souls.
They’ll die for lies, and that’s their fall.



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




Fools rise to lies, no soul to save —
Wake up or drown within the grave.



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



No Fear...

When the snitch sells you out,
The traitor turns executioner’s hand,
Be proud, don’t bow or sell your route.
Fascism’s death rules this land.

Through death — the righteous way —
You may step into life anew.
So fight, don’t bend or sway:
Submit, and rot alive will do.



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




Face death strong — don’t kneel or bow.
Fight or rot — the choice is now.



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



To a Would-Be Suicide

Use the rope like a noose —
For enemies, not you.
To **** yourself’s a ruse,
A flea’s escape — not true.

This fight’s the last with freaks,
Not many stand this way.
Though beaten down by grief,
Fight on if you’re not prey.

Use the rope like a noose—
Or better — machine gun’s roar...
This world may not heal soon,
But don’t march with its war.

Walk guided by your Spirit,
Not the lies and schemes they spread.
This truth’s no rumor — hear it:
Darkness fades like smoke — dead.

So every fighter counts,
Who battles evil’s face.
If you dare the noose,
The foes will meet disgrace.



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




Use the rope to choke your foes —
Fight on, and watch the darkness close.



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



Under the Moon and Underfoot...

The world beneath the moon —
A ***** feed for fools.
All people on this noon —
Cheese cut from rotten rules.

It’s free — a feeding pen,
Where lies ring loud as law.
They’re deafened by the din —
Don’t laugh, the horns you saw.

A horned king rules the land —
The ultimate Goat’s throne.
With beasts that mock and brand —
Evil’s seeds are sown.

Here darkness holds command,
******* on vile lies.
The underfoot, the banned —
Where rotten falsehoods rise.



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




Under moon, the fools are fed —
By lies that chain and fill with dread.



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



“With Regards”...

A joke:
A prison priest steps in to see
A thief, a bear-robber’s plea.
“Don’t lose heart, my son, I’ll try
To help you when your time is nigh.”
“Thanks, holy father,” said the man,
“But theft’s a craft that needs a plan —
Complex, refined, not just a game,
It takes real skill to stake your claim.”

Like fools, the dumb priests babble cheap
Their “truths” from lies that run so deep.
Dogma rules, customs decree —
Any “pioneer” can follow blindly.

For life’s hard trials, cheap advice
Is worthless, even for the nice.
But if you’re freak or “with regards” —
Go to priests, their flock’s the same regards.

Blind leading blind — that’s how they teach,
With dogmas that just push you off the beach.
They build a chasm, dark and wide,
Between the Real World and the idiot’s pride.



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




Priests of lies, blind guides of fools —
Build walls that trap and break all rules.



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



Majority and Minority

The majority votes dull,
A yoke for *****, souls turned null.
The herd of fools controls the day,
While wit and reason fade away.

The majority—idiots blind,
The minority—mad minds.
Darkness of traitors rise in force,
Satanic strength sets hell’s course.

Soon hell will come, its grip is real,
The wise few fade—apart they kneel,
Glittering ghosts beyond the fray,
“Above the fight,” they fade away.



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




Fools hold power, the wise recede—
Hell’s shadow grows on blind mislead.



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



On the Ruins of a "Country"

Cargo wars of cargo-führers,
Cargo lies and hollow lies.
That fake double’s smoking fever —
Kremlin herds the blinded flies.

With reckless lies they flood the ground —
The bottom cracked in this deceit.
Dead grasp of fascism’s wound
Chokes all life beneath their feet.

Satan’s pages plot and scheme
To crush the “country” to the dust.
Wounds uncounted, measures mean —
Drenched in **** and broken trust.

No cure found, just mountains rise
Of filth and lies, Everest.
Carry your cross in these demise —
On ruins of a “country’s” rest.



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




Cargo lies and fascist grips—
The "country" falls, drowned in their ****.



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



Patients

To make a patient out of... a patient...
In school and college, just a case —
A fool they shaped you, no complacent,
Till work’s a madhouse, no escape.

The loss of reason—thin, so sly:
Once gone, your worth is small and slight.
You’re at war — from cradle, lie
The fight for mind, the costly fight.

The price you pay for every move
In battles they call “life” today.
If you stand still, refuse to prove,
Therapy will grind you away.

This therapy serves Reason’s call,
Where Pure Spirit leads the way.
But war’s a world where reason falls,
Ensnared in Satan’s dark array.



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




Lost reason makes a patient’s fate —
Stand strong or fall to war and hate.



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



The So-Called “Deep People”

Deep-rooted herd mentality —
The ancient “bond” that fools uphold:
Where dullness, rudeness, debauchery
Make fools their kings and tyrants bold.

Among the captive souls in Ukraine,
The wise are few, so hard to find.
Beasts breed beasts — what honor’s gain?
Spirit crushed, and reason blind.

That monstrous spawn of womb’s decay,
A relic freak, grotesque and vile.
On it fascism clings today,
While fools endure their shame and guile.

For years they’ve borne this undead plague —
The Kremlin’s puppets, lies they drag.



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




Where fools rule, and spirit dies—
Deep people live in shadowed lies.



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



The So-Called “Victorious War”

“Victorious war” —
When a “country” hits the bottom stone,
Ruled by beasts, by Satan’s throne,
The price you pay is all your soul.

If the beast is deemed “good” as whole,
Though masked like scab and skin decay,
Only lice will bear such toll,
While honor, reason slip away.

No longer humans — just the lice,
No honor, reason, or a soul.
Outside their ranks — rush to the fight,
At least write out your rebel role.



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




Beasts rule where souls are sold—
“Victory” is death untold.



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



Controlling the Herd

Controlling fools is simple work:
Hire traitors everywhere you see,
Stir dumb propaganda’s murk,
Nothing else is needed, really.

Care for people? Just a bit —
Shut the quick, **** or imprison.
But mostly lie, lie without quit,
To purge all truth with cruel precision.

Total lies flood madhouses wide —
Half-wits call these lands their own.
Legions of traitors spread and hide,
Soon the last wise minds are gone.



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




Lie, control, and silence all —
Watch the herd soon lose and fall.



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



Neo-Fascism

Bunker moths — vile Kremlin ****,
Hordes of fools, a stench, the media’s drum.
How much rot? How long the lies?
Every traitor there—neo-fascist guise.

Defeat will come, then swift collapse,
No more breeding such dull traps.
Ashes spread, decay’s dark breath,
Reviving Reason will be death.



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




Neo-fascists spread their blight —
But ruin comes to end their night.



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



The Kremlin ****

There’s just a *****,
But then there’s Kremlin’s core —
Satan’s vile concubine.
That ***** must be wiped clean,
The war’s chief mastermind.

That super-*****
Will sell your mother too,
Her soul half-bought and sold.
They sold the people down the drain,
Or stake the ***** — all won’t be killed, it’s true.



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




Kremlin *****, vile and cold —
Sells souls cheap, betrays the fold.



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



The Herd

The herd drives fools to slaughter,
A final fight for fascist might.
All sheep are blamed for failure,
Though chance was there — not quite in sight.

The horned beast shines once again,
Your fate is sealed, the herd’s undone.
Huge masses fall beneath its reign,
Fascism’s grip grows fierce and won.

They’ll make you vile, a twisted pawn,
And breed more fools to feed their spawn.



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




Herd of fools to slaughter led —
Fascism’s fight for mind and dread.



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



Putler

A "moped" old fool,
A filthy double’s tool,
Spewing nonsense dread —
Fascism’s stinking spread.

That “moped” will **** kids,
While “bonds” are just skids —
Simply utter trash,
A bottomless crash.



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




Putler raves, a stinking blight —
Kills kids while sinking out of sight.



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



Generators

Hamster in the wheel —
A simple power source.
That’s what we all feel,
While vile dictators force

Feeds of lies and filth —
For beasts that never tire.
The system’s near its tilth,
The bottom cracks, entire.

The wheel spins fast and wild
Into hell’s deep abyss.
The hamster, meek and mild —
Just stomps without a miss.



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




Hamsters spin, dictators feed —
The wheel falls fast to hell’s deep greed.



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



Zombies and Fools

Zombies, zombies — thinking’s lost,
Their minds have rotted, gone to waste.
Once fools they were, but poisoned most
By books and speeches, lies misplaced.

The “leaders’” words, the broadcasts vile,
Turned wells of truth to filthy pits.
From human realms, they drained the smile,
Souls ****** dry—no life admits.

Without a soul, just walking dead,
Zombies roam, a cursed swarm.
Yet efforts rise, and soon instead,
These zombies form a deadly form.

Warrior zombies, armies dark,
Satan’s tools with minds erased.
Not just their brains, but souls they bark—
Yet speeches flow with bitter haste.

Obedient and fierce they stand,
Aggressive, stubborn to the core.
Where are you, fools, “our guiding hand”?
Like angels near the abyss’s roar.



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




Soulless zombies, fools entranced—
Before the abyss, angels stand entranced.



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



Ashes

The sky has torn,
Hell's gates are wide,
Fools stay mute,
While fiends preside.

Fascism, filth,
Fool, zombie too.
Bet odd or even —
All turns to ash, it’s true.



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




Sky ripped, hell unleashed —
Fools silenced, all to ash decreased.



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



Rashism

“Communism is Soviet power plus electrification of the whole country.”
— Vladimir Lenin


Rashism — power of vile beasts,
A country’s mind turned dumb and dead.
Those monsters’ mouths have long consumed
All scraps they crave to shred.

They need a war to crush and rip
What little’s left — mere bones and tails,
The bits they failed to swallow whole,
Like fishbone stuck in scaled-up trails.

Yet fools heed those disgusting fiends,
Marching to slaughter like it’s work,
They’re pillars of fascist force,
For them, the lies relentlessly ****.

A thousand lies will flood the air —
“Attack!” the fools rush blindly in.
The sheep-virus was once upon,
But sheep won’t live to see the win.

This **** is set to wipe the flock,
Add lies a bit, then lies will **** —
The final act of falsehood’s mock,
The end of truth, the deathly chill.



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




Rashism feeds on lies and hate —
Sheep march to fascism’s gate.



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



So-Called “Progress”

A joke:
“Progress made outlets off-limits—
The brightest kids are dropping off.”


“Progress” is a press —
You’re squeezed like lemon peel.
From youth, they crush your zest —
Demons preach their broken spiel.

When pure and lively mind
Is useless to half-men,
Stupid fools stay confined,
Grasping twisted trends.

Ideas fed through that press,
Imprinted in the leaking brain.
For humans, it’s regress,
For demons, a toxic gain.

How to dumb down everyone?
Crush all minds with lies so lame.
Success for fiends is won —
Satan nearly rises again.



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




Progress crushes minds like fruit—
Demons laugh, the fools commute.



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



Mesozoic Era

Woodpecker-apes and hammer-brains,
Führer-lizards, zombie-drones,
Scavengers small, rivers of lies,
Into seas of madness flow and moan.

There “higher minds” pretend to rule,
A zealot priestess screams her part.
Gnomes and goblins, a false folk’s tool,
They mate a centaur with a wanton heart—

That vile freak becomes a god,
A cursed god in sick disguise,
Born from chaos, lies, and fraud,
A monster worshipped by the blind and wise.



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




Woodpecker-apes and lizard fiends —
Gods made from lies and twisted schemes.



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



The Stake Is Life

Not life ahead — just decay and rot,
When fear rules all, dark and tight.
Spirit’s agony, thoughts forgot,
Ash raised up as monuments of blight.

Those stinking dogmas stand as shrines —
Fascist filth that poisons air.
And people quiet as small mice,
Silent victims of the snare.

Cast off fear, live autonomously —
Answer death with strength and fight.
Rotten regimes praise slimy parasites,
Until crushed beneath the right.

The answer’s clear — communities,
Of rational minds that still remain.
Don’t seek reasons for apathy,
Act swiftly now, break every chain.

Gone are times of empty talk,
Submission’s cost: your very life.
Not so strong is Judas’ walk —
Sheep’s world fascism, ruled by strife.



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




Fear decays; live free, resist —
The stake is life, don’t cease to fight the mist.



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



The Doppelgänger Putler and the Kremlin ****

Putler’s old,
Only on the screen.
New orders come
From Kremlin’s mean machine:

They want a war,
Because there’s fear
Too little left
In the madhouse here.

They killed too few —
The cowID’s a sham.
Back again the sting
Of Kremlin’s rotten ****.

Russia’s fall
Is what will end it,
If that hellish plan
Comes fully to remit.



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




Putler’s ghost on screens —
Kremlin’s **** fuels ****** scenes.



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



Don’t Shoot the Pianist — Don’t Kick the Propagandist

“Don’t shoot the pianist —
He plays the best he can.”


Don’t kick the propagandist —
That ******* lies as much as he can.
No law now stops the lies,
They get summons shoved on their plans.

The summons covers only themes
They’re told to “report” and spin.
How they report is free — but what —
They’re dumb beyond that bin.

What they must lie — they lie, with spice,
If skilled enough to add their flair.
No honor, heart, or truth in sight —
Just ****** who sell lies bare.

Before fascism, they crawl like worms,
And rake the cash that’s piled high.
But if you twist the dagger sharp,
Not all their *** wipes clean, no lie.



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




Don’t blame the player, blame the game —
Propagandists spread lies and shame.



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



Putler’s Debiloid Engineer

A debiloid, not plasmoid —
Primitive, crude design.
A lie on this freak will land —
Instant dull fascist decline.

Debiloid’s like amoeba —
Just to eat and spread its filth.
That’s why non-microbes here
Can **** these vile beings’ pith.

False-virus and warmongering —
Debiloid’s crushed by fear’s hand.
World’s madhouse in a frenzy —
You’re lost in this cursed land.



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




Debiloid dumb, a fascist spawn —
Plague of lies and fear lives on.



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



Mute

Being mute is not naive:
Like a worm, you’re born to grieve.
Such is fate for humankind —
So toss your words and peace of mind.

Who will grasp what burns inside?
Few will care or even try.
Most just live to chew and chew —
Worship food as gods would do.



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




Worms don’t speak — they eat and crawl.
Words are trash to minds that stall.