Clear to Hedgehogs, Not to Men
Clear to hedgehogs, not to men —
A mockery of life again.
We bow to scum on every side,
While lies and fears like slime abide.
They coat the world in filth and dread,
Till every spark of truth seems dead.
The exit waits in Death alone —
No other road has yet been shown.
But trust the BEASTS once more instead,
Hoard fear and grudges in your head.
Collect delusions, nurse the lies,
And sink where all illusion dies.
---------------------
Obvious to Hedgehogs
Obvious to hedgehogs — not to men:
Life's just a rotten cage again.
Scum rule all, and crowds obey;
Lies and terror block the way.
Slime has drowned the world in dread,
Truth is buried, nearly dead.
Death's the doorway, plain and clear —
There is no other exit here.
Yet trust the BEASTS and crawl once more,
Hoard your fears and wounds galore.
Feed your madness, praise the fraud —
March obedient to the rod.
---------------------
To the Painter
Boundless vulgarity and fools —
Forget soft pastels, break the rules.
Paint in darkness, grim and stark:
You won't find Heaven in this dark.
And if you do — you're mad, my friend.
The Light approaches to the End.
Even Bosch now seems na;ve,
Compared to lies that beasts conceive.
This crippled world has lost its way,
A madhouse rotting day by day.
Be your harshest judge and guide...
Though words now scatter far and wide.
They fade into the poisoned air,
Where filth and nonsense rule despair.
The old vocabulary's gone —
Just one vast cesspool lingers on.
---------------------
Advice to a Painter
Stupidity knows not a bound;
Use darker shades the world around.
Forget the pastel, soft and bright —
No paradise exists in Night.
And if you find one, you're insane.
The Final Light is near again.
Bosch looks like comics, mild and tame,
Beside the beasts and all their shame.
The world is mad, corrupt, debased,
In lies and ugliness encased.
Be your own critic, stern and vast —
Yet words themselves are fading fast.
They drift through emptiness in vain;
Old meanings rot, no truths remain.
Language decays, and what is left?
One giant dump of souls bereft.
---------------------
Reducing Threats Through “Education”
The choice of prose and verse they teach
To shape the mind and narrow reach
Is guarded well — a threat appears
If someone thinks beyond his peers.
So endlessly they preach and praise
“Great Shakespeare” through the schoolhouse days,
While making certain cattle learn
Whose names they're ordered to discern.
Each nation has its “genius” grand,
Its sacred idol close at hand;
For every fresh succeeding breed —
A hero from the past they need.
And if one can't be found, they'll fake
A legend for the fools' own sake.
The simpletons will bow and read,
And worship phantoms they don't need.
What dullards read is censored still,
In every age, by every will.
So long as hides remain unflayed,
No war with Evil need be made.
They fight their mirrors, not the cause,
Then glorify it all in verse.
Thus womb-bound minds became our lot —
By fear and fraud of Evil caught.
---------------------
Education as Population Control
They filter every book and rhyme
To mold the mind from childhood's time.
A thinking man becomes a threat —
That's something rulers don't forget.
So Shakespeare's dragged through every class,
While favorites of the system pass
As sacred names the herd must know,
Obediently, row by row.
Each tribe requires a saintly fraud,
A painted idol, praised and awed.
And if none lives within the past,
They'll build one up — and build him fast.
The fools will kneel before the shade,
A ghost by propaganda made.
They'll read what censors deem benign,
And call the prisoner's chain divine.
Through every age the rule stays clear:
Control the books, manufacture fear.
Protect your skin, avoid the fight —
Let Evil flourish out of sight.
They battle copies, not the source,
Then glorify the fatal course.
So now the herd crawls, blind with dread,
While lies and fear reign overhead.
---------------------
My Country, Tolerastia!
Tolerastia, state-run fright —
What a grim and wretched sight!
Sentence passed on heart and mind:
Reason's end is close behind.
First they tested, then they tried;
With CowID they forced mankind.
If you won't bow down and crawl,
Worship Uniform and all,
If you dare refuse commands,
You're unfit for these fair lands.
False contagions, false alarms
Leave their scars and brands and harms
On this foolish, dying sphere
Till the final ending nears.
Hurry, join the traitors' choir,
Serve the Lie that they admire.
Traitors feast beside the trough,
Others drink the cheapened slop.
The Obedient Madhouse waits
For new "viral" fear campaigns.
---------------------
Welcome to Tolerastia
Tolerastia — terror's throne,
State-run madness fully grown.
Judgment passed: the mind must die,
Reason's final days draw nigh.
Trial run? A grand success.
CowID brought world-wide stress.
Those who would not kneel and pray
To the Uniform's display,
Those who questioned, those who saw
Past the fraud and past the law,
Found no place within the pen —
Only marks to brand free men.
False plagues flourish, never cease,
Poisoning the world's disease.
Join the Judas ranks today,
Sell your soul and earn your pay.
Traitors crowd the feeding stall,
For the rest — cheap swill for all.
The Obedient Asylum waits,
Dreaming up new viral fates.
---------------------
Bow to fear or be erased,
That's the creed they've now embraced.
Traitors dine and fools comply —
Thus free minds are taught to die.
---------------------
School Plays in the West
Children act out Macbeth at school—
Training future tyrants' rule?
If they're fed with endless loads
Of boring texts and worn-out codes,
Nonsense, drudgery and rot,
What result can they have got?
Need we thousands more Pol Pots,
Slowly losing all their thoughts?
Step by step and out of sight,
Madness dressed as "learning's light"
Takes its place in every plan,
Shaping thus the modern man.
Graduate with top-notch grades?
Book an analyst these days.
Damage done is deep and vast—
Yet parents cheer the process fast.
Sick's the world, and getting worse;
Here's a project for the curse:
Write a fairy tale of Pol Pot,
Stage it in the kindergarten lot.
---------------------
Educational Theatre
Kids perform Macbeth in school.
Is that where tyrants learn to rule?
Stuff them full of tedious trash,
Dead ideas and culture's ash,
Then act shocked when minds decay
And common sense just melts away.
Need more Pol Pots? That's the scheme:
Turn insanity mainstream.
Slowly, subtly, year by year,
Make confusion seem sincere.
That's the purpose, that's the game
Of "education" in its name.
Straight-A student? Splendid feat.
Now go find a therapist.
Mental scars are guaranteed,
Yet parents urge them to proceed.
This world's sick beyond repair,
Madness lingers everywhere.
Let's make Pol Pot's life a tale
For preschool story hour's scale.
---------------------
Fill their heads with lifeless lore,
Then demand they think no more.
Raise them well in folly's plot —
Every age can breed a Pol Pot.
---------------------
The Global Bottom
Sex obsessions fill the air,
Breeding's treated as life's care.
Step by step they wear away
Life till lust becomes the way.
Then survival, raised as fright,
Dominates both day and night.
Driven hard, it leaves at last
Only emptiness amassed.
Nothing higher may remain,
Nothing noble can sustain.
Even love for all mankind,
True and selfless, goes blind
In corruption, lies and rot.
The patient of the Madhouse Lot
Is deemed "normal" by the crowd,
Since the same delusions shroud
All around him. Perfect stock
For the rulers of the flock.
They call weakness "peace of mind"—
Lies have made the masses blind.
Everywhere decay expands,
Yet the herd still understands
Next to nothing. Few can know
Just how deep the currents flow.
Exceptions? Far too rare to save
This descent into the grave.
Thus the Global Bottom's fate:
Further rot and slow collapse await.
---------------------
The World's Lowest Point
Sex and breeding, breeding, sex—
That's the cage around their necks.
Life is narrowed, year by year,
Till desire alone stays near.
Then comes survival, sold as law,
Used to keep the herd in awe.
Push it hard and, in the end,
Nothing higher can transcend.
Love for all? A foolish dream.
Truth? A faint forgotten gleam.
Everything that's bright and true
Drowns in poison seeping through.
The Great Madhouse calls him sane,
Since the others are the same.
Ideal cattle, meek and blind,
For the masters of mankind.
Even weakness earns applause;
Submission masquerades as cause.
Lies have gnawed through every brain,
Rot spreads wide across the plain.
Few exceptions still remain,
Far too few to break the chain.
So the Worldly Bottom crawls,
Deeper as corruption sprawls.
---------------------
Lust below and fear above,
Thus they bury higher love.
Herds obey and rulers grin —
That's how slow collapse begins.
---------------------
The Thin Skin of False Religions
The Higher Powers left this place,
No sign remains, no living trace.
The world sinks deep in easy lies,
In false religions' paradise.
Crucify the mind with dreams,
Flood it with prophetic schemes.
That's the Cross of Falsehood's art:
Fantasy instead of heart.
Fear is what the traders sell,
Fear of death and fear of hell.
"Just believe," the preachers say,
"And your sins will fade away.
Allah, God, or some bright throne,
Clouds and harps you'll call your own."
Fear is ruthless, fear is king —
Thus the rotten churches cling.
Simple is the whole design:
Keep repeating it in rhyme.
Mock the promised courts above,
Expose the fraud they call "true love."
Yet the zealots will complain,
Brand you heretic again.
Most are dull as cork and stone —
Thus the inner Light has flown.
Everything repeats the same.
Seeking God? Then change the aim.
Look within, not overhead,
If your mind is not yet dead.
Face your fears and do not hide,
Do not let yourself be lied to.
Every foolish claim survives
Because slaves prefer their lies.
First the beasts inflate the fear,
Then the harvest season's near.
Before that they numb the brain
Through the schools' obedient chain.
Universities as well
Teach the lessons of the cell.
Patient ready, meek and tame,
Waiting for salvation's game.
In "heaven" non-men thrive with ease;
For dissenters — police and keys.
Yet there's never enough control
To imprison every soul.
False religions, through the years,
Guard the herd with chains of fears.
Wake at last and you will see
Misery on every street.
Then the resurrected mind
Leaves those childish dreams behind.
Yet the fool still trusts the beasts,
Feeds on promises and myths.
False science helps play its part,
Marching hand in hand with dark.
From both sides they press and grind,
Crippling every searching mind.
Schooling mandatory still,
Dogmas spread with iron will.
Lies attack from every side:
"Make peace with Evil — Heaven's nigh."
---------------------
Fear is planted, fear is grown,
Then they sell a gilded throne.
Bow to Evil, don't resist —
Heaven waits, the liars insist.
Search for God beyond the sky?
Better ask the question: why?
Wake the Light that's locked within —
That's where journeys should begin.
---------------------
The Super-Medicine
Garlic heals the kidneys well —
Then why say "like"? Who can tell?
Everywhere corruption thrives;
Rare's the doctor who thinks and strives.
In the pharmacy you'll find
Little help for heart or mind.
Though exceptions still exist,
Ancient remedies persist.
Thousands of them, tried and true —
Use your brain and look them through.
Modern medicine's become
Poison, only slower-acting some.
Marching onward, cold and grim,
Power crushes to the brim.
Leading experts in the charge
Played their roles and lived large.
The false doctor showed his face
During CowID's embrace.
Little sense in wrecking health
Just to help some fraud gain wealth.
Drop the "like" and add instead
"Super" to the word you've said!
Beccuzin's a super-doc —
Or die writhing from the shock.
---------------------
Super Cure
Garlic heals — that's plain enough.
Why the cautious "acts like" stuff?
Lies infest the world so deep,
Honest doctors are hard to keep.
Search the drugstores shelf by shelf —
You may harm more than yourself.
Real cures still exist, though few;
Old folk wisdom may guide you.
Think for yourself, discard conceit.
Many answers lie off the street.
Medicine and poison blend;
That's the nightmare of the trend.
Power marches, step by step,
Never pausing for regret.
And the grand "experts" led the way,
As the madness had its day.
CowID stripped masks aside;
Charlatans had nowhere to hide.
Why destroy your health and hope
Helping crooks extend their rope?
Take out "like" and make it clear:
"Super-medicine" belongs here.
Beccuzin — miracle supreme...
Or perish while the quacks still scheme.
---------------------
Garlic grows, the wisdom stays;
Experts shift with fashion's ways.
Think for yourself, don't rent your mind —
Truth is rare, but still you'll find.
---------------------
A Red Cross on a White Flag
Great progress we're achieving —
Minds are full of leaking.
Under iron order's reign
We howl together, all the same.
And those who will not join the cry
Can dream of freedoms by and by,
Indulge in myths and fantasies —
Just keep it quiet, if you please.
The Leader brings our happiness;
We'll bark ourselves to breathlessness.
Once we reach the Camp at last,
The future's welded to the past.
One giant camp from coast to coast,
A red cross on the banner posts.
Crosshairs cut the heavens wide —
Everyone is marked inside.
Together we shall stain the white
With blood beneath the sacred light.
And proudly praise the newborn way —
A little Soviet, some might say.
---------------------
The Banner
Splendid progress! Can't you tell?
Every mind's a leaking shell.
Under orders, row by row,
We are taught to bark and bow.
If you will not join the pack,
Go chase freedom's phantom track.
Worship myths if that's your role —
Just don't do it loud, control.
The Great Leader knows the way,
Marching us to brighter days.
Soon we'll reach the blessed Camp,
Howling praises, rank by rank.
Endless Camp from sea to sea,
Marked by one red emblem's gleam.
Not a symbol — crosshairs spread:
Every soul is in the sightline set.
We'll dye the banner deep in red,
With blood where blind obedience led.
Then salute the "newborn" state —
Old chains forged in a newer shape.
---------------------
One vast camp and one command,
One red mark above the land.
Crosshair, banner — hard to tell:
Freedom's myth is caged as well.
---------------------
Herbicides for Fast Food
Herbicides for fast-food fare —
Drop your outrage, don't you dare.
Praise the scoundrels poisoning fields,
While disease becomes the yield.
Greatest harvest? Minds grown weak.
DDT helped pave the streak.
More and more the schools appeared,
Training fools from year to year.
Last century began the trend
In a world that won't amend,
Where chemical wars still rage on,
Till the last clear thought is gone.
Only few can think today,
Yet they never find a way
To unite against the tide —
Each remains alone, aside.
Thus the forecast's dark indeed:
An infernal world will bleed.
Poison, nonsense, lies and fear
Finish what they started here.
All will slowly be brought low,
Like condemned beneath the blow.
Step by step the toxins reign —
Rot without and rot in brain.
---------------------
Fast Food Harvest
Spray the fields and praise the fraud;
Bow before the poison god.
Every crop comes pre-approved,
Every illness gently moved.
DDT and kindred schemes
Fed the century's dark dreams.
More fake schools and fewer minds —
That's the progress mankind finds.
Chemical war never ceased;
It just changed its name at least.
Now it seeps through food and air,
Through the products everywhere.
Thinking people? Very few.
Joining forces? Hardly do.
Thus the outcome's plain to see:
Rot disguised as destiny.
Poison, panic, lies and dread —
That's the feast on which we're fed.
Slowly all are marched along,
Till corruption stands too strong.
---------------------
Poison fields and poison thought,
That's the future planners bought.
Lies and fear complete the chain —
Rot outside and rot in brain.
---------------------
Lemon Leaves a Bitter Taste
A lemon leaves a bitter taste,
And "life" itself can do the same.
Awake before your years are waste,
Look round — Death's crone has learned your name.
Your truest friend is found within;
To find another, sharp and wise,
Not broken by the world's mad spin,
Is harder than it first implies.
Amid the global heap of lies,
The task grows steeper every day.
A kindred soul? A rarer prize —
Most seem to drift the other way.
To find a love that's deep and real,
You'd sooner find one among beasts.
No vulgar urge is meant — but feel
A warmer heart than mankind keeps.
Too many walk with empty eyes,
Their spirits absent, cold and numb.
Leave this mad world of thin disguise —
In solitude, true shelters come.
For harsh indeed the two-legged race,
And cruel often its domain.
Alone, one sometimes finds a place
Beyond the noise, deceit, and pain.
---------------------
The Nausea Called Life
A lemon stings the tongue a while;
This "life" breeds nausea in the soul.
Wake up and look beyond the smile —
Old Death already claims her toll.
Your best ally is still yourself.
To find another who can see,
Not one more lunatic on the shelf,
Is near impossibility.
Within this global swamp of waste,
True minds are rare as desert rain.
A kindred heart? Don't be in haste —
The search is mostly loss and pain.
A faithful love? You'd sooner find
More warmth among the beasts that roam.
Not lust — but spirits of a kind,
More real than crowds that call this home.
The soulless sea of human clay
Expands with every passing year.
Leave this deranged world if you may —
In solitude there's less to fear.
For two-legged kingdoms, proud and grim,
Run harsh and cold from end to end.
When all the lights grow dark and dim,
Yourself remains your steadiest friend.
---------------------
Seek a mind that's still awake —
Harder than a chain to break.
In a world grown cold and wild,
Solitude may prove less vile.
---------------------
Away with Delusion!
Yoko Ono stands as proof enough
Of hurdles art must struggle through.
Creation's law is hard and rough:
Be the lone madman, stay true.
The stranger that you seem to men,
The deeper truths you come to know.
Beware of book-fed wisdom then —
Your finest works from that may grow.
The mad slave passes here for sane;
Acceptance serves the lash's role.
They mock dissenters yet again,
While lies pour forth to mask control.
They lie in books, they lie on screens,
They lie in every news parade.
Internet fame by countless means
Becomes another captive's chain.
To live with madness day by day
Can drain the spirit to the bone.
Exceptions are too rare to stay —
Thus many kneel before the throne
Of mediocrity and dust.
Submission runs through culture's veins.
Stand by yourself. In Light and trust
Your work transcends the common chains.
Let Inspiration be your guide;
Create, and make the vision live.
Or join the herd that bleats with pride,
With counterfeit art to give.
So many end in inner strain,
Their souls exhausted by the show.
Cast off Delusion's heavy chain —
It breeds clich;s, and little more.
---------------------
Drive Out the Delusion
Every age erects its walls,
Art collides with them and falls.
Creation's law is cold and plain:
Walk alone, embrace the stain.
The more insane you seem to crowds,
The more you pierce illusion's shrouds.
Distrust the truths that books proclaim —
Discovery lights a brighter flame.
In this world the slave is "wise",
And normality's disguise
Serves as whip and iron rein,
Keeping thought inside the chain.
Lies in media, lies in print,
Lies with every polished hint.
Internet applause as well
Builds another private cell.
Stand apart. Remain alone.
Let the inner fire be shown.
Only then can Light take form
Instead of art that's stillborn, worn.
Otherwise you'll strain and bleed,
Manufacturing what others need.
Many break beneath that yoke,
Souls consumed by empty smoke.
So tear Delusion from your sight.
Choose the solitary fight.
For where Delusion holds command,
Only clich;s fill the land.
---------------------
Walk alone and guard the flame;
Crowds demand you play their game.
Trust the spark, not borrowed lore —
Delusion breeds clich;s and more.
---------------------
Pale Horse and Courtesans
Corrupted cops for sale,
Officials fat and pale,
The puppets of the "great,"
Political coquettes,
The masses, dulled and blind —
Two thirds have lost their mind.
And waiting at the end,
Where all these pathways tend,
The Pale Horse rides at last,
Born from assaults long past
On Reason's fading light,
On conscience, truth, and right,
From promises betrayed,
From debts to Spirit unpaid.
The reckoning draws near —
Its hoofbeats all can hear.
---------------------
The Pale Horse
Bought cops.
Fat grubs.
Elite-made puppets.
Political strumpets.
A people half-asleep,
Their thoughts no longer deep.
The Pale Horse waits ahead —
The harvest of the dead.
The fruit of mocking thought,
Of every lesson bought,
Of souls betrayed for gain,
Of cowardice and chain.
Forget the soul? Then see:
The rider's coming free.
---------------------
Puppets dance and liars reign,
Reason falls beneath the chain.
Mock the soul and truth's remorse —
Soon arrives the Pale Horse.
---------------------
The Mask Test
Off to shop? Then don't forget:
Sell your soul to beasts you've met.
CowID made plain to all
How absurd the masker's call.
Bit by bit the pressure grows,
That's the way oppression flows.
First obedience is tried —
Then coercion swells with pride.
The test succeeded, loud and clear;
Submission conquered doubt and fear.
Thus the beasts could plainly see
How to tighten tyranny.
Every rule became a chain,
Every slogan fed the reign.
What was sold as "common good"
Masked a darker servitude.
---------------------
The Compliance Test
Going shopping? That's the price:
Sell your soul and think it nice.
CowID revealed the scheme —
Masks became the loyalty screen.
Little by little, squeeze by squeeze,
Power spreads its slow disease.
First a test: "Will they obey?"
Then the arbiters have their way.
The trial passed beyond all hope —
Crowds accepted every rope.
Once submission proved its worth,
Arbitrariness ruled the earth.
The lesson tyrants learned was plain:
Fear can forge the strongest chain.
Teach the herd to bow on cue —
Then they'll do what you tell them to.
---------------------
First the mask and then the chain,
First the fear and then the reign.
Test complete — the rulers grin:
That's how larger games begin.
---------------------
The Old Cat Came to Eat
The old cat came to have his meal,
Still knows, in ways he cannot tell,
What honor means, however dim,
It has not vanished yet from him.
But two-legged folk have lost their way;
Some demon led their minds astray.
So little honor now remains,
So little wisdom fills their brains.
And Nature herself begins to smile
At human folly, rank and vile.
One day the reckoning will come —
A cataclysm clears the slum.
---------------------
Old Tomcat
An old tomcat arrived to dine,
Still keeps a code of sorts in mind.
Though simple are the thoughts he knows,
A spark of honor in him glows.
But mankind's lost that ancient thread;
Some darker guide has forged ahead.
Few scraps of honor still survive,
And fewer minds remain alive.
Even Nature laughs today
At all the fools who've lost their way.
The final broom is yet to sweep —
And wipe the slate in one great sweep.
---------------------
The old cat knows what honor means,
Though wrapped in instinct's humble dreams.
Men forgot what beasts recall —
Nature waits to judge them all.
---------------------
The Young Pioneer’s Death, or Never Trust the Beasts Again
"Youth once led us proudly on
To the sabres and the fight;
Youth once drove us onward still
Onto Kronstadt's frozen ice."
Youth once led us onward too,
Onto ridges cold with lies.
Soviet dreams dissolved from view —
Then came harsher, clearer skies.
All the swagger disappeared;
After "reforms" came the dump.
Those who once were most revered
Found themselves among the lump.
Former commissars, overnight,
Turned to businessmen instead.
Gangsters landed out of sight —
New Chekists rose up in their stead.
Fresh-born bastards took control,
Building yet another cage.
Open fascism took its toll;
Mock it not — incur their rage.
Make a joke and pay the price,
Soon you're branded criminal.
Terrified, the fools think twice,
Back to servants, dutiful.
Trust the beasts, and this is all
History will grant in turn:
One more camp behind the wall,
One more lesson left to learn.
In the Kingdom Built on Lies,
Life terms wait from cradle day.
Youth will lead beneath new skies —
Straight to Nothingness again.
---------------------
Youth was taught to trust the throne,
Then discovered it was stone.
Flags may change and slogans shift —
Chains remain the ruler's gift.
Trust the beasts and, soon enough,
New bars rise where old ones stood.
Youth marches once again ahead —
Toward another dream gone dead.
---------------------
A Colony of Bacteria
A colony of bacteria,
Living by reaction's law.
Fools who trust the beasts too much
March through lies toward ruin's maw.
Sameness grows beyond all bounds —
Where's the thinking man to be?
Reason is a patch of thawing ground
In a frozen, mindless sea.
For centuries the ice has spread,
Layer after layer laid.
Sense survives in scattered spots,
While folly rules the grand parade.
The crowd repeats, obeys, conforms,
And calls the habit "common sense."
Meanwhile thought, a fragile spring,
Struggles for existence.
---------------------
Frozen Minds
A colony of germs at best,
Driven by external stress.
Trust the beasts and play your role —
Lies consume both mind and soul.
Copies breeding copies still,
Thought replaced by herd and will.
A thinking human? Rare indeed —
Like a thaw where ice recedes.
Reason flickers here and there,
Tiny clearings in despair.
Age on age the frost has grown,
Turning living minds to stone.
The ice remains. The centuries pass.
The herd still marches, packed en masse.
And every thaw that dares appear
Must battle oceans made of fear.
---------------------
Reason is a patch of spring
In a world of frozen things.
Centuries of ice remain —
Herds obey, repeat, sustain.
---------------------
Trifles of a Pseudo-Life
They wear you down with little things,
A slow-built scaffold suffering brings.
This wretched life became a block,
A gradual and grinding shock.
The freaks seem harmless at first sight,
Polite and delicate and bright.
Yet there are countless of their kind —
A thousand cuts can break the mind.
To fight such trifles day by day
Is harder than it seems, they say.
Each petty jab, each mean disguise,
Mocks the spirit as it dies.
---------------------
Death by Trifles
They torture you with trivialities,
A slow execution by degrees.
Pseudo-life became the blade,
Not in one stroke, but delayed.
On the surface, mild and neat,
The little monsters seem quite sweet.
Yet they're everywhere you turn —
A lesson difficult to learn.
Not one great blow, but endless dust,
A thousand nuisances and rust.
The soul is mocked from dawn till night,
By petty tyrants, small and slight.
---------------------
No single axe, no fatal knife —
Just endless trifles carving life.
Death arrives by grains, not blows;
That's the way pseudo-living goes.
---------------------
Madness
Madness is repeating still
The selfsame act, the selfsame will,
Yet hoping for a different prize —
An idiot's idea of paradise.
Decay is everywhere in sight,
Mistakes parade both day and night.
The daily world stands as the proof:
A rotting, barren, joyless truth.
Routine itself becomes the case,
A monument to slow disgrace.
Each day repeats the last one's role,
While emptiness consumes the whole.
---------------------
The Definition
Madness is to do once more
What failed a thousand times before,
Yet dream the outcome will be new —
A paradise for fools to view.
Around us spreads a deeper rot;
Almost everyone has lost the plot.
The evidence is plain enough:
Daily life and all its stuff.
The same mistakes, the same old lies,
The same dull hopes in new disguise.
A world decaying inch by inch,
Too numb to stop, too weak to flinch.
---------------------
Repeat the lie, expect the sun —
That's how madness gets things done.
Rot surrounds us, plain to see;
Daily life's the proof for me.
---------------------
The Six-Winged Grey Imp
“By spiritual thirst tormented,
Through a bleak desert I was led,
And a six-winged seraph shining
On the crossroads met me there.”
— A. Pushkin, The Prophet (1826)
Six-winged seraph? That’s a trick —
Sasha, come on, it’s just a fiend.
Since the dawn, the world’s been sick,
By evil ruled and purged of “God” unseen.
No divine trace left behind,
Wiped away from earth and mind.
---------------------
Grey Seraph or Devil?
Six-winged seraph? Don’t pretend —
That’s a devil in the end.
Pushkin, Sasha, you were wrong:
Evil’s ruled the world for long.
From the start, it’s all been dark,
No divine or sacred spark.
Every trace of God erased,
Only rot remains in place.
---------------------
Seraph? No — don’t play along.
That’s the devil all along.
God is gone, erased from sight —
Only darkness claims the light.
---------------------
“The Russian World”
“The Russian World” is one vast sewer,
If you’re not broken, leave it sooner.
For filth will drag you down below,
And pull you to its rotten flow.
---------------------
A Domostroy Hero
A Domostroy-style “hero” stands,
Defending “order” with both hands.
And sometimes it feels surreal —
As if all slaves is what we feel.
---------------------
The Order’s Champion
A Domostroy-made hero cries
For “order” under watchful skies.
And it is hard to quite believe
We’re not in chains we can’t perceive.
---------------------
He worships “order,” loud and proud —
A slave’s dream dressed as a crowd.
Hard to believe, when all you see,
Is freedom’s mask on slavery.
---------------------
Prosecutors into Politics
Prosecutors — march to power,
Into politics they flow.
They already know the hour,
How the system works below.
No room there for whining voices,
Only steel and firm command.
In this “order” there are choices —
Stand for Fascism, take your stand.
---------------------
From Courtroom to the Throne
Prosecutors — into power!
March to politics with pride.
They know well each turning hour,
Know the system deep inside.
No place there for weak dissenters,
No “complaints” in governance.
Only iron-hearted entrants
Guard the new authoritarian stance.
---------------------
From courts to power — straight they go,
They know the system, how it flows.
No room for doubt, no room for plea —
Just firm command and hierarchy.
---------------------
Stupidity Is Not Severity
Stupidity is not the same as stern —
A “news” from beasts has come in turn.
Ears flared wide like an elephant’s span,
Mouths now hanging, all according plan.
They follow Evil’s rule and creed,
Performing every twisted deed.
But stern ones, firm and hard as stone,
Drive the beasts into a rage unknown…
---------------------
Not Severity, Just Foolishness
Foolishness is not severity:
Beasts deliver “news” with glee.
Ears stretched wide, they drink it in,
Lips unrolled in vacant grin.
They enact the Evil’s code,
Marching blindly down that road.
And the strict ones — calm and cold —
Make the beasts lose all control.
---------------------
Foolishness, not strength or law —
Just the beasts and jaws agape.
Follow lies and play your role —
Stern minds make the monsters rage.
---------------------
Short Bursts
A machine gun set to verse so tight,
“Strike and smash” is its delight.
If you’re a meek and foolish soul,
Just scribble verses for your soul.
---------------------
Fog of Lies
A hedgehog lost within the haze —
Once wounded by the lie’s dull glaze.
That was before, in days gone past…
Now reason’s axe is hung on farce.
You may as well hang truth on air,
On nonsense drifting everywhere.
And further on — the final stage:
The canonizing of the fake as sage.
---------------------
God Forbid I Ever Unwind It All
God forbid I ever lay it bare,
All I’ve written through the years laid there.
For fools would swarm in endless tide —
And that alone would be my guide…
I’d rather stay unknown, unseen,
In quiet, just myself, serene.
---------------------
Let It Stay Unopened
God forbid I ever start
To unwind my written art.
Idiots would flood the door —
And that would be my end, for sure.
Better to remain unknown,
Live in silence, all alone,
Simply be myself, unbent,
In quiet life and content.
---------------------
Let it stay unturned, unknown —
Too many fools would claim the throne.
Better silence, clean and free,
Than crowds devouring what I be.
---------------------
C’est la vie
C’est la vie — in lies and blood,
the dull, dim world sinks in a flood,
if judged with truth, in strictest mood.
---------------------
The Blabbermouth and the Base Boor
Blabbermouth and base-born brute,
Best to steer a safer route,
Save your nerves a little bit,
Or end in grave or furnace pit.
---------------------
Partisans in the Forest Thickets
In forest thickets, partisans
are few who still maintain their stands.
That filthy fascist, stripped of soul,
to Evil bends and thus takes toll.
---------------------
Forest Partisans
In forest thickets, partisans
are rare who guard their inner stands.
That rotten fascist, base and blind,
to Evil bows—corrupt in mind.
---------------------
Deep in woods, a few remain—
Mind and soul against the stain.
Fascism, vile and led astray,
Kneels to Evil every day.
---------------------
Rus’, I’ll Reach You
Rus’, I’ll reach you yet one day,
and plunge into your filth and clay.
War has shown your deepest ground,
CowID’s voice: be lost or drowned.
If you’re a fool, then hymn and sing
to neo-fascist reckoning.
If sense still flickers in your eye —
you weep, you howl, you ask just “why”.
And still the grinding iron will
of marching order drives you still.
No matter where you try to hide —
the battle-storm will reach your side.
---------------------
Will Rus’ Reach Me Too?
Will Rus’ come find me in exile too,
and drag me down into the view
of bottom depths where all may go,
if one has spat upon the soul below?
In “emigration” — still no peace,
no way to buy yourself release.
For all are tempted, sooner, late,
to taste the world’s corrupting state.
---------------------
“Bonds of ‘Health’”
“The Caucasus is sealed, Aeroflot burns,
In Astrakhan, the watermelons blaze —
Yet workers do not leave their turns,
And ‘health bonds’ grow stronger in all ways.”
— Vladimir Vysotsky, Cholera (1970)
The world is tied in “health” restraints,
Far worse than plague in all its traits.
A mental sickness cuts and spreads —
Obedience quietly in threads.
The mask was fitted to the earth,
And all endured its hollow worth.
No protest rose against the game —
They swallowed every act of shame.
And still these “bonds” grow tight and cold,
As reason itself is bought and sold.
For beasts, intelligence becomes
A burden beating like dull drums.
---------------------
Skewed Lines Like Scythes
Distortions, like scythes in a swing,
Slice through the spirit, mind, and spring.
And cursed questions start to rise,
Though never voiced beneath the skies.
The Regime aloud allows its praise
For various beasts in warlike ways,
“For education,” twisted, worn —
While freaks like blemishes are born.
A “country” like a fading smoke,
Where sight itself begins to choke.
---------------------
Boredom Everywhere, All Is Bottom
Boredom everywhere — the lowest ground,
Don’t come telling me around
That there’s still some light that glows…
Even thousands, as it goes,
Of the sane, won’t break the chain —
Fascist order still remains
Stronger than those scattered few:
Idiots stick like glue.
Betrayal now is daily work,
While honest souls in silence lurk —
Poor and lonely, pushed aside,
In a world that rots inside.
---------------------
All Is Rotting Low
Boredom spreads — the lowest tier,
Don’t pretend that light is near.
Even thousands cannot bend
A fascist order without end.
Idiots, tightly joined as one,
Outweigh the sane when all is done.
Betrayal is the daily trade,
While honest men are starved and laid.
---------------------
All is low and sinking fast —
fools together, built to last.
Truth is poor and scattered thin,
while betrayal thickens skin.
---------------------
Elusive Jack named Pot
Jack Pot?
Jack Pox!
“Success” here never really clocks
the effort wasted on the soul—
for Evil has another goal.
So learn the rotten scheme in haste,
through “Pot” — stay conscious, don’t be waste,
don’t fall for trickster’s shining bait
of prize and chain that decorate.
A slave-world — what are “pots” in there?
Just gather insight, strip the snare.
They’ll tap their heads, those hollow crowds—
their nonsense breathes like poisoned clouds.
But not for them your striving turns,
nor for their “salvation” burns.
The world has sunk to lowest grade—
a herd that cannot be remade.
---------------------
Arrival
Through a dark and broken land
Pseudo-life drags on unmanned.
Through the rabble you must crawl,
Fear and slime have drowned it all.
Fear and fraud spread far and wide,
No horizon to provide.
Filthy fascism is everywhere,
Madness thickens in the air.
That worldwide insanity
Showed its face for all to see.
Meek deformities obey,
Half-alive in lies each day.
Yet they'll finish what they start —
Overton windows play their part.
Darkness rules with iron grin,
Conscience soured, reason thin.
Soullessness on every side,
Hell itself made worldwide.
Souls are traded from the start —
Childhood is the market's mart.
"Keep them all contained," they cry,
But Cataclysm draws nearby.
We'll arrive in Hell anew...
Well then — fascism, farewell to you.
---------------------
Destination
Life limps on through muck and rot,
Among the herd that questions not.
Fear and lies coat every stone,
Leaving no path of one's own.
The future's gone. The madness spreads.
Propaganda fills all heads.
The global farce was plain to see,
Yet meekness passed for sanity.
Window after window slides,
Darkness swells and truth subsides.
Reason fades, while conscience dies,
Poisoned by a billion lies.
Soulless crowds and hollow schemes,
Markets trading human dreams.
From the cradle souls are sold,
Measured, numbered, bought for gold.
Soon the cataclysm's due,
And another hell comes into view.
One last wave, one last goodbye —
Farewell, fascism. Live or die.
---------------------
Fear and lies have paved the way,
Darkness crowns another day.
Cataclysm nears the gate —
Farewell, tyrants. Seal your fate.
---------------------
Beds of Lies
Life grows narrow through the lies
Of hidden clans and mafias.
Lies are everywhere — and now
A Procrustean bed somehow
Has become our pseudo-life,
Forged by beasts through fraud and strife.
Friend, awaken from the haze!
Fight deception's twisting maze.
Lodges, lies — resistance grows;
Rot will deal the final blows
If the mindful fail to stand,
Fail to join both heart and hand.
Time is racing, swift and grim,
Hope grows faint, the future dim.
Reason melts and fades away —
Faster with each passing day.
---------------------
The Lodges of Lies
Life is narrowed by the lies
Of secret circles in disguise.
Everywhere deception spreads;
Now our world's a Procrustean bed.
Beasts keep talking, fraud keeps growing,
Pseudo-life is all they're sowing.
Wake up, friend, shake off the spell —
Murk and madness weave this hell.
Lies and lodges multiply,
While resistance learns to rise.
Rot will finish off the game
If the wakeful fail to claim
Common ground and common cause.
Time accelerates without pause.
Chances vanish, one by one,
Reason melts beneath the sun.
---------------------
Lies make life a narrowing cage,
Rot now dominates the age.
Wake, unite, resist the tide —
Reason dies if truth can't guide.
---------------------
The Path
Do not drive your mind too hard;
Many walked that road and marred
Their own course, for blind they spun
Through endless cycles, one by one.
What helps upon the Path are gleams
Beyond the mind's revolving schemes —
The Heart's own sight, a deeper view,
Revealing what the mind can't do.
When Spirit guides, the mind becomes
Both horse and rider as it runs.
Then every question, knot, and snare
Can be resolved with greater care.
---------------------
The Way
Press not your mind beyond its measure;
Many sought in thought their treasure,
Only to be trapped and lost
In circles paid at far too high a cost.
Insight helps along the Way —
A light beyond the mind's array.
The Heart perceives what thought can't see;
Its vision moves more silently.
With Spirit reigning from above,
The mind serves wisdom, not self-love.
Horse and rider joined as one,
The hardest journey can be done.
---------------------
Mind alone will walk in rings,
Blind to deeper reckonings.
Heart sees farther, Spirit leads —
Thus the soul transcends its needs.
---------------------
The Dawn of Communism
“The Seventh of November’s day —
A red date on the calendar...”
All the efforts went astray;
That “red dawn” turned black with decay.
Ah, a dawn? It means sunset too —
Both are hidden in the view.
And the Beast remains in charge,
Every day writ large and harsh.
Every page upon the wall
Marks the fear of servitude for all.
Burning in this hellish pyre,
We salute the one they hire
On the grandstand, raised on high,
For the triumph of the lie.
Boundless, militant deceit —
With consent, the chains complete.
---------------------
Red Dawn, Black Shadow
“Red Day” printed on the page —
Yet it darkened with the age.
All the striving, all the cries,
Ended under blackened skies.
Dawn and sunset share one face;
Tyrants simply change their place.
Every day the calendar keeps
Fear alive while reason sleeps.
From the platform, loud and proud,
Falsehood speaks before the crowd.
Cheered by those who bend and bow,
Strengthening the system now.
---------------------
Red dawn, blackened by the years,
Built on obedience and fears.
Every day the same refrain:
Different banners, same old chain.
---------------------
Tolerastia
Tolerance comes, then beastly blight,
Yet first comes atomized delight:
Greed and folly, trust misplaced —
Fear and falsehood fill the waste.
Corruption spreads from street to street,
Darkness walks on eager feet.
Everywhere decay is cast,
Vice and vileness gathering fast.
---------------------
Tolerastia
Tolerance becomes decay,
Beastliness is next in play.
First comes atomized retreat —
Greed and gullibility meet.
Fear and fraud are everywhere,
Rotting minds beyond repair.
Vice and darkness, foul and vast,
Mark the age from first to last.
---------------------
Atomized, afraid, deceived,
Greedy, foolish, misbelieved.
Tolerance turns into blight —
Everywhere, corruption's night.
---------------------
YouTube’s Algorithms
YouTube’s algorithms are crude,
And so is all that other brood.
Yet rough as they may seem to be,
They work quite well selectively:
Truth is buried, held below,
While watered gruel is made to grow.
The higher up the channels climb,
The thinner grows the truth with time.
---------------------
The Algorithms
YouTube’s algorithms are rough,
And all the rest are bad enough.
But they suffice to block the way
Whenever Truth would seize the day.
Truth stays buried out of sight,
While slop is boosted to the height.
The system knows just what to do:
Promote the mush, suppress the true.
---------------------
Algorithms guard the gate —
Truth arrives a little late.
Gruel rises, thought sinks low;
That's the way the rankings go.
---------------------
A Trick Question
The farther from the crook you stay,
The harder gets your life each day.
How do you fill your pockets high
Without deceit, without a lie?
I made good money years ago —
Though all around was want and woe.
I lived in butter, rich and slick;
The fool knows not the system's trick.
He knows nothing of this vile design,
And so stays poor his whole lifetime.
The ones on top are rogues and cheats;
To them I was a thorn that pricked.
To snatch a morsel from the swarm
Of parasites is far from warm.
Relax one minute, lose your guard —
And life turns ugly, cold, and hard.
Today I write my verses still,
Yet empty pockets mock my will.
Those scoundrels vanished from my way
Who once kept cash and work in play.
We hauled fuel once; on papers filed
I skimmed a little, fate's own child.
Now for a joke in verse I earn
A feast of zeroes in return.
---------------------
Stay far from crooks — you'll pay the cost;
In rotten systems, truth gets lost.
Once cash flowed in, now poems remain —
And zeroes are the poet's gain.
---------------------
Armed Up...
Stocked up on grenades—
Straight into my gut!
Kefir and kvass fade,
No joke, they’re outstrut
By that ruby fruit—
A treasure chest of health.
Garlic joins the route,
A weapon born of stealth.
Beyond the ugly ways
Of this stress-ridden sphere,
I gather strength for days,
For themes yet to appear.
Come on, plow ahead!
Let fury rise and bloom.
For souls, it's medicine instead
Of sinking into gloom.
The time to meekly moo
Has long since passed away.
To wait for mercy, too,
Is folly in this day.
So I armed myself at last,
And forged my strength in rhyme.
The power held fast—
And saved my soul in time.
---------------------
Fully Armed
Pomegranates in store—
Ammunition for the core.
Kvass and kefir lose the fight;
That fruit keeps the engine bright.
Garlic too is in the kit,
Simple tools, but all legit.
Against a world of stress and noise,
Health becomes a poet’s choice.
Plow the field and let rage grow,
Turn it into verse and throw
Every spark into the flame—
Silence never wins the game.
Time for cattle-calls is gone;
Fascism marches on and on.
Waiting mercy from the strong
Is the fool’s refrain and song.
Armed at last with words and will,
I shaped them on the anvil still.
Strength became a living psalm—
And poetry became my arm.
---------------------
The Path
Along the Greater Path I stride,
Losing all I held with pride.
Only thus, while moving on,
Can one endure till night is gone.
The price is vast, the toll is steep,
No treasure may a traveler keep.
To leave Hell’s deepest floor behind,
You shed what shackles heart and mind.
---------------------
Walking the Great Way
I walk the Great Way, stripped and bare,
Leaving all possessions there.
Only thus can one proceed,
Freed from every binding need.
Great the cost that must be paid
To leave the depths where Hell is laid.
All is lost, yet something true
Waits beyond the darkened view.
---------------------
On the Great Path I advance,
Losing all with every chance.
Hell demands a fearful price —
Freedom rarely comes for nice.
---------------------
The Global Soviet
Rare's the film without the trend —
Propaganda without end.
Only rivers running back
Could surpass this mental track.
In the mind, the rule is set,
Order forged through fear and threat.
CowID showed how the game
Wrapped control in virtue's name.
If you never sold your soul,
Still the system keeps patrol.
Watching, tracking, day and night,
Keeping every target tight.
Surveillance now has grown far past
What the Soviets held at last.
And the honest, left alone,
May soon find the noose their own.
---------------------
World Soviet
Everywhere the same refrain,
Propaganda dressed again.
To reverse the rivers' flow
Would be easier than this show.
Order built by fear and lies,
Dark control in new disguise.
CowID exposed the trend:
Obey, conform, submit, pretend.
If you would not sell your name,
You remain within the frame.
Every movement, every look,
Quietly enters the book.
The watchers now surpass by far
Old regimes in what they are.
Truth stands lonely, unsupported —
Soon enough, it may be cornered.
---------------------
Rivers might reverse their course,
Yet propaganda runs its course.
Watchers thrive while truth stands lone —
A global Soviet overgrown.
---------------------
Sick with Repetition
Gravely sick with repetition,
Is the world in its condition.
Generation after generation pays the fee—
The final product: slavery.
Everywhere the lies are said,
Drummed into each waiting head.
Scoundrels worked with practiced art
To tear Truth's remnants all apart.
Truth is Spirit. You're a spark
Of that flame beyond the dark.
Yet if survival fills your sight,
You're trapped in shadows, robbed of light.
The Darkness wants just that from you:
To chase the trivial, miss the true.
And while the soul is left ignored,
The obedient servant is restored.
---------------------
The Plague of Repetition
The world is sick with old refrains,
And every age inherits chains.
The outcome, forged through fear and lies:
A docile slave who never tries.
Falsehood echoes coast to coast;
The parasites repeat it most.
Truth is scrubbed from every wall,
Until deception governs all.
Truth is Spirit—living flame.
You partake of it the same.
But if survival is your creed,
Darkness finds exactly what it needs.
---------------------
Lies repeated, year by year,
Forge obedience out of fear.
Truth is Spirit—seek its light,
Or serve the darkness of the night.
---------------------
The Essence of Universal Madness
Repeating the same old thing,
Waiting for new fruits to spring—
That’s the mark of crippled thought,
Common where the fools are caught.
Repeating patterns, worn and stale,
Forced by beasts that still prevail;
Breaking barriers they designed,
Built from lies to trap the mind.
Mass confusion, mass decline—
In every age the grand design.
Fools complain and sink below,
Yet repeat the selfsame show.
Such repetition drags them down,
Still they cling to folly’s crown.
Signs of rot are plain to see:
False diseases endlessly.
Those who rule repeat them well;
That’s the law by which they dwell.
Madness thrives on endless loops,
Driving fools through lower hoops.
Overton windows, pushed once more,
Break through every former floor.
Damage comes as planned and due—
Madness claims its dreadful due.
Repetition of dull days
Forms your private hellish maze.
Creative fire, though rare indeed,
Shows a path for those who heed.
Yet beware repeating there—
Even art conceals a snare.
In a realm of rot and haze,
It's hard to avoid the muddy maze.
Intuition lights the track;
Practice that, and don’t look back.
Though hell multiplies its schemes,
Save your soul through living dreams.
Let creation be your fight,
Better still—a yogi’s light.
Only thus can you remain
True to self in Falsehood’s reign.
---------------------
Madness Defined
To do the same and still expect
A different end is intellect
Turned against itself by force—
The common fool’s unchanging course.
The world repeats what it is taught,
By powers feeding borrowed thought.
Each age refines the ancient art
Of dulling mind and numbing heart.
The daily grind, the endless wheel,
The wounds that never truly heal—
All are signs of deep decay
That steals the soul a bit each day.
Yet creativity can be
A path toward inner liberty.
And intuition, quiet and bright,
May guide you through the longest night.
Create, resist, transcend the lie;
Let spirit teach the mind to fly.
Only then can one remain
Untouched by falsehood’s dark domain.
---------------------
Repeat the lie, expect the new—
That's what madness trains you to do.
Create instead, let insight lead;
The soul survives through living deed.
---------------------
Guppies
Something vast swept over my soul today—
Perhaps “love,” perhaps deception’s play.
So many fools in ignorance were lost,
Never seeing Evil’s hidden cost.
Tend your little world with “love” and care,
Strengthen “friendship,” build your circle there.
Yet overall, things “improve,” we're told—
As minds and souls grow smaller, duller, cold.
The guppy never notices the water round;
Glass walls define its world, profound.
Likewise, total lies remain unseen
When you're fed, secure, and living clean.
Prison walls enclosing all mankind
Seem fantasies to the imbecile mind.
Like guppies, all drift to the settling tank—
Too weak to see the chains, too drained to think.
---------------------
The Guppies' World
A mighty wave rolled through my soul—
Was it love, or another trick to control?
Many vanished into ignorance deep,
Blind to the harvest that Evil would reap.
“Love your corner, cherish your friends,”
So goes the tale that never ends.
Meanwhile the world moves “for the best,”
By shrinking the spirit within every chest.
A guppy sees no water at all;
Glass becomes nature, wall after wall.
So too deception fades from sight
When comfort survives another night.
If the prison is wide as the world itself,
The fool mistakes chains for wealth.
Like guppies gathered in a stagnant pen,
Most lack the strength to see beyond it then.
---------------------
The guppy sees no water there,
The captive thinks the cage is fair.
Fed and safe, the blind comply—
Thus unnoticed thrives the lie.
---------------------
The Mob's Miracle
Nonsense, gloom, and blackened lies—
The harder these vermin try,
The viler and the more obscene
Their propaganda grows, unseen.
The beasts keep hammering at the crowd,
With foolishness proclaimed aloud.
They finish off the minds they've bent—
Submission is the argument.
Believe the Evil that they sell,
Indulge their frauds, and all is well.
Thus marches on the blind parade,
In lies and darkness neatly laid.
---------------------
A Wonder of the Herd
Trash and terror, murk and lies—
The fouler grows the grand disguise,
The more devoted are the curs
Who spread the poison line by verse.
The Beastly gang keeps feeding swill
To numb the crowd and break its will.
The herd obeys, accepts the chain—
And Evil profits from the gain.
---------------------
Nonsense, darkness, foul deceit—
Propaganda grows complete.
Feed the herd another lie,
Watch it nod and shuffle by.
---------------------
Laziness Is Not Stupidity
Laziness does not imply
That you're a stump too dull to try.
Luck and “success” so often mean
You're serving some corrupt machine.
For those who won't themselves betray,
There's slander, boredom, in the way.
So back off, leave me be, and fend—
These trials too will meet their end.
Nonsense, tedium, wasted days,
Inaction's fog and sluggish haze—
They're merely shadows that I cast,
Not chains to bind me fast at last.
---------------------
Not a Fool Because I'm Idle
Laziness is not the same
As being stupid, dull, or tame.
“Success” and fortune often smile
On those who sell themselves for guile.
The honest gain a different prize:
False blame beneath unfriendly skies.
So leave me be—your noise won't stay;
It too will fade and drift away.
Boredom, nonsense, doing naught—
They're lesser foes than being bought.
At worst they're shadows on the wall,
Not masters of my rise or fall.
---------------------
Lazy? Maybe. Fool? Not yet.
“Success” is often stained with debt.
Better shadows, boredom, doubt
Than sell your soul and cash out.
---------------------
Until They Burst, or An Escape Valve for Slaves
“We give the tired, poor, suffocating masses two whole hours to escape the harsh realities of the world, plus popcorn and Coca-Cola. We do what others cannot—we entertain them, we give them shelter. We'll keep feeding their souls until they burst.”
— The Offer (2022)
The soul has shrunk and cracked with strain,
Its seams give way from constant pain.
One little puff, one final shove—
And it will burst. Such is the lot thereof.
Life deals blows from every side:
Deceit, futile labor, fear as guide.
So for the slaves they forged relief—
A vulgar show to dull their grief.
As an instrument to rule the mind,
They spread it wide among mankind.
Sweet little lies seem fresh and bright,
As though they healed the soul outright.
Yet here as elsewhere lurks deceit:
The trick inflates what was depleted.
Like a balloon pumped far too tight,
Swollen beyond its natural right.
Like helium forced through a broken valve,
With pressure no restraint can halve,
The thing will burst—and what's left then?
A hollow shell among hollow men.
And worse: the hollow are the norm.
The internet refines the form.
The souls of crowds are filled and fed
With stronger dreams and thicker dread.
Overton windows swing with ease,
Opened by professional sleaze.
Replace one mouthpiece, hire two more,
And march the herd where planned before.
The forecast darkens year by year:
The pumping grows more severe.
The membrane thins, stretched frail and slight—
Enough to tear the world outright.
The trial run of fabricated scares
Already showed how power fares:
The duller, weaker grows the crowd,
The easier it's erased and bowed.
---------------------
Feed the crowd with dreams and lies,
Watch the swollen spirit rise.
Stretch it thin and fill it fast—
Hollow souls are made to last.
Until they burst.
---------------------
ADD, or Homo CowIDus
Homo sapiens? Before came
Homo sovieticus by name.
Then Evil left its branded scar—
Now herds are shaped for where they are.
The mark of darkness stains the mind;
War and CowID made it plain to find.
A competition now is run:
Whose “nation” reaches Bottom first, and won?
The progress there is quite immense—
In few places survives good sense.
The rule of madness climbs so high,
It keeps the world in line thereby.
And CowID gave a fitting clue
To the term this poem points us to.
No longer sapiens, proud and wise—
Homo CowIDus now survives.
Through thorns of nonsense we are led,
By endless waves of fear and dread.
The road ahead is dark and broad—
Straight to the Fool's Infernal Sod.
---------------------
Homo CowIDus
Homo sapiens? That's old news.
First came Soviet man to lose.
Then Evil stamped its final brand—
And turned the masses into bland
Obedient cattle. War revealed
What propaganda long concealed.
CowID too exposed the race:
Whose country falls with greatest grace?
The victories are hard to miss—
Madness reigns in abyss after abyss.
Reason shrinks while nonsense thrives,
And fear directs obedient lives.
Thus a new species takes the stage,
The product of a darker age:
Homo CowIDus—trained to nod,
Marching through folly toward the sod.
---------------------
Sapiens fades, the label's gone,
A newer breed is marching on.
Branded minds and managed fear—
Homo CowIDus is here.
---------------------
To Wake, First Tremble
To wake, you first must feel the dread—
There is no other road ahead.
Plunge in headfirst, deep and whole,
To purge the poison from the soul.
Face the horror, face the lie,
See the darkness eye to eye.
Only then can madness fade,
And all its rotten debts be paid.
---------------------
Awakening
Be shaken if you would awake—
No gentler path can mortals take.
Immerse yourself, from head to toe,
In truths most people fear to know.
The fevered nonsense, dark and deep,
Will lose its hold, its poisoned keep.
Through seeing clearly, through the pain,
The mind may find itself again.
---------------------
Wake through terror, not through sleep;
Truth is often dark and deep.
Face the madness, brave the night—
Thus the soul returns to light.
---------------------
A Slender Chance
When doubts begin to multiply,
Born from wounds that do not die,
From labor of the mind and soul,
Refine them, make them part of a whole.
Forge them into your own creed,
For you are in a war indeed.
A battle rages against the mind,
And fools now form the bulk of humankind.
The Beast succeeds when thought grows weak;
Through crowds of drones its aims they seek.
The docile madman, trained to bend,
Becomes the weapon they extend.
The Horde advances, day by day,
While truth and reason fade away.
The world is bound by webs of lies,
And fear before all else now flies.
That sticky fear, that sickly dread,
From endless falsehoods widely spread—
CowID revealed the pattern clear,
How easily they rule through fear.
If Reason is not to be slain,
Pass insight on through loss and pain
To those who still refuse to sleep,
Whose care for truth runs strong and deep.
The world is racing toward collapse,
Toward Armageddon's waiting traps.
If present currents hold their course,
The end arrives with gathering force.
Yet still one fragile hope survives,
A spark that through the darkness strives:
A slender chance.
---------------------
The Horde moves on, the liars cheer,
The world is governed now by fear.
Share your insight while there's time—
Hope survives by threads sublime.
---------------------
The Nation's Body
Gangrene of betrayal spreads,
Through the nation's veins it treads.
The next generation's poisoned too—
And fascism thrives the whole world through.
---------------------
Our Successors
Gangrene of treason
Has entered the frame;
The young have been poisoned—
Fascism's the game.
---------------------
The Body Politic
Corruption's gangrene now has spread
Through the body, vein by vein.
The rising generation's fed
On poison, fear, and chains again.
The sickness deepens day by day,
Its symptoms plain for all to see:
Where minds are trained to kneel and obey,
Tyranny grows naturally.
---------------------
Gangrene of treason, spreading fast;
The future's poisoned at the last.
A sickened age, a darkened prism—
Everywhere the growth of fascism.
---------------------
The Chatterbox
You’re a rattling chatterbox—
My poor head is full of knocks.
Before the wedding, sweet and mild,
Now a witch half-wild, beguiled.
---------------------
Rattle and Hex
Chatter, chatter—what a racket,
Head is cracking like a packet.
Once a darling, soft and true,
Now a witch in sheerest view.
---------------------
The Rattler
You’re a noisy rattling spell,
Headache ringing like a bell.
Before the vow, a gentle charm—
Now a witch without alarm.
---------------------
Once a dream, now noise and crack—
Witch beneath the wedding track.
---------------------
Don’t See the Elephant
We’ll miss the elephant, that’s clear—
Slavery, lies are drawing near.
Sticky fear will crowd it out,
Smother thought and twist it about.
This is how the blind are led,
With reason dulled and poisoned head.
The Beast now rules through hollow minds—
Ashes of Hell in human kind.
---------------------
Blind to the Beast
We won’t see the elephant in the room—
Slavery, lies, the creeping doom.
Sticky fear will take its place,
Erase all thought, erase all trace.
That’s how control is deeply done:
Truth is buried, war is won.
The Beast now rules through empty minds—
Hell’s own dust in human kind.
---------------------
We miss the truth, accept the lie—
Fear replaces reason why.
Slaves don’t see what stands in sight—
Hell’s own shadow calls it “right.”
---------------------
This Weariness Is No Accident
This weariness is not by chance—
It’s staged by beasts in vile alliance.
Like parasites that worm and feed,
They drain the life from every need.
They eat the strength that keeps us whole,
Feeding directly on the soul.
What looks like random strain and pain
Is their design, their grip, their chain.
---------------------
Engineered Exhaustion
This heaviness is not by fate—
It’s planned by beasts that dominate.
Like parasites that cling and thrive,
They feed on what keeps us alive.
They chew through will, they sap the core,
And leave us weaker than before.
What seems like chaos, stress, and grime
Is simply power’s hidden crime.
---------------------
No accident—this drain we feel:
Parasites make living steal.
They feed on strength, they feed on flame—
And call it life, and call it “game.”
---------------------
Gentleman’s Kit
Bribes and lust and “honour” too—
(What fools call respect and virtue’s view)—
A gentleman’s standard, tried-and-fit,
Made only for the ones who sell a bit.
For the skin-deep trader, this is charm;
For the thinking mind—pure shame and harm.
---------------------
The Kit of “Respectability”
Bribes and lust and “honour” sold,
Fools applauding, brave and bold.
A gentleman’s kit—corrupt, well-worn,
For those who trade themselves with scorn.
Only for the sellout breed—
For the lucid mind: pure need to leave.
No dignity in this disguise,
Just shame dressed up in social lies.
---------------------
Bribes and lust and “honour” play—
The fool’s respect in rot and sway.
For the thinking mind, it’s clear:
A gentleman’s kit is shame and smear.
---------------------
Priests and “Doctors”
Priests and “doctors”—what a pair,
So alike in tricks they wear.
Lies dressed up, refined and clean,
Masking what their hands have been.
Speech alike—euphemist guise,
Sugar-coating all their lies.
Sickened by their hollow face,
Strongholds of a darker place.
---------------------
Priests and “Doctors”
Priests and “doctors”—strange the match,
Same disguise, the same old catch.
Silence truth, then dress it bright—
Selfish gain behind the light.
Language wrapped in velvet spin,
Softened words to hide the sin.
Nausea rises at their art—
Fascism made from speech and heart.
---------------------
Priests and “doctors” speak the same—
Lies with polish, truth with shame.
Different robes, one rotten core—
Power dressed as care and more.
---------------------
On the Paths of Evil, Under the Goat’s Dominion
Leap a pit—don’t think that straight
Means your path is free of fate.
Evil never sleeps or tires,
Digging traps and twisting wires.
Forks are laid in every way,
Choices set to make you pay:
What you lose, and what you keep,
If you walk the road so deep.
Follow not the worn-out track,
Heavy with fear’s crushing sack.
Leave the path that’s known to all—
Rise above or rise not at all.
Becoming half-divine is goal,
The task that shapes the waking soul.
To “go to work” is fools’ design—
Death of spirit in the line.
---------------------
Paths of Evil, Rule of the Goat
Jump the pit—don’t be misled,
Think the danger’s past and dead.
Evil never rests or fades—
It builds new traps, new masquerades.
Every road becomes a snare,
Every choice is loss laid bare.
Stay the same and you will find
Chains already on your mind.
Leave the road of fear and norm,
Rise beyond the human form.
Half-divine—that’s what you must be,
Not the slave of industry.
Work is for the numbed and blind,
Spirit dies in that design.
In the crowd, the soul decays—
That is how the darkness plays.
---------------------
Every road is wired with lies—
Evil builds where safety dies.
Rise above or fall in line:
Spirit lost in daily grind.
---------------------
The Work Continues
Each passing year grows heavier still,
With deeper storms upon the will.
Fewer days that bear their fruit,
More that drag the spirit mute.
Find the balance, calm and true,
In all the strain you’re passing through.
Even if your back is bent,
Cast off doubt—be forward-bent.
Go ahead, don’t turn away,
Through the blur of every day.
Though the effort seems in vain,
Keep on moving through the pain.
---------------------
Continuation of Work
With every year, the burden grows,
And darker weather in us flows.
The fruitful hours slip and fade,
While heavier grows the debt we’ve paid.
Seek the middle path instead,
Where effort’s neither lost nor dead.
Though your labor bends you low,
Release your doubt—continue to go.
---------------------
Each year grows harder than before,
Fewer sparks, more grinding chore.
Find your center, walk ahead—
Doubt behind, and fear long dead.
---------------------
The Golden Mean in Poetry
The weightiest thoughts, the deepest sight,
Are born in nakedness of light—
Without a worded cloak or frame,
Bare revelation, pure of name.
To find the speech that gives them form
Is struggle—hard, precise, and long.
A craft that few can truly hold,
Where silence turns itself to gold.
Yet foolishness, so light of birth,
Comes dressed in bright and gaudy mirth.
In worn-out rags it proudly stands—
And easily slips through every hand.
So when you shape the line and rhyme,
Respect the rhythm, sense of time.
But stay between the two extremes—
The golden path is what redeems.
---------------------
On the Golden Mean in Verse
Great thoughts are born without a word,
Unclothed, unshaped, almost unheard.
To dress them right in speech and sound
Is hardest art the mind has found.
Yet nonsense comes in costume bright,
In borrowed colors, false but light.
It walks unasked into the crowd—
And speaks the loudest, most allowed.
So in your verse, seek middle ground,
Where sense and music both are found.
Avoid the void, avoid the show—
And let the balanced currents flow.
---------------------
Truth is born without a name,
Words must earn their place in flame.
Foolishness wears costume bright—
Easy speech, but empty light.
Walk the middle, hold it true—
That’s the art worth passing through.
---------------------
Two State Languages in Ukraine as a Way to Avoid War
Two languages—calm, persistent, clear—
Could’ve eased the growing fear,
Softly reducing influence and flame,
So war might never come again.
It was obvious, not hard to see,
A simple path to harmony.
But madness chose another role—
And pushed the world toward losing soul.
They paid the bought and bribed MPs,
Who shaped the war behind the scenes.
Corruption rules where honor dies—
And truth is drowned in endless lies.
So now prepare, without surprise,
For new forms rising in disguise.
When honor falls and greed takes place,
Another fascism shows its face.
---------------------
Two Languages and a Missed Peace
Two languages could gently steer
Away the path that leads to fear.
Reduce the weight, defuse the strain—
And maybe stop the march to pain.
It wasn’t complex, plain to see—
A chance to choose stability.
But hidden hands and bought consent
Pulled history toward its darker bent.
They paid the deputies to bend,
And shaped the war they meant to send.
When honor dies and cash is law,
Fascism waits behind the door.
---------------------
Two languages—one simple key
To stop a war that was to be.
But greed was stronger than the truth—
And sold the future of the youth.
---------------------
Pseudo-Illnesses in a Foolish World
They did not forgive, did not forget
How the foolish world was set
To bend beneath the CowID lie—
Where shame and madness multiply.
A handful only stood apart
From those who bowed with broken heart—
The rarest threat the system fears,
The clearest mind it interferes.
The darkest diagnosis known
To power that sits on a throne—
And symptom of this age’s ill:
A flood of words, unmoored from will.
---------------------
Fake Diseases in a Broken World
They neither forgive nor let it fade,
How a world of fools was made
To kneel beneath the CowID spell—
Where nonsense spreads and all is hell.
A few alone refused to bend
While masses chose an easier end.
The worst prognosis power knows—
When clear perception starts to close.
And symptom of this deeper rot:
A stream of words that mean them not—
Noise replacing thought and sight,
Mistaking darkness for the light.
---------------------
CowID bent the world in line,
Shame and folly intertwined.
Few stood still, the rest obeyed—
Truth became a word delayed.
---------------------
Greed
My weariness—
no small disease—
is wholly mine,
through all my time.
To share it? No.
I let it grow.
And in my last,
final breath—at last—
you may compute
what I produced,
with strictest line,
cold and precise design.
My toil is cost,
my gain is bought—
and recompense
is silent rot.
The docile fool,
in “success” school,
seeking delight,
calls evil right,
and gladly plays
its hollow praise.
---------------------
Greed
My exhaustion is my own,
not to share, nor to be loaned.
Every day I guard it tight—
it is mine by day and night.
Only at the final breath
you may measure life and death:
count the work, the cost, the gain—
cold accounting born of pain.
Toil becomes the price I pay,
while reward just fades away.
And repayment comes in kind:
a hollow, servile, broken mind.
The fool who chased his “success dream,”
addicted to the shallow gleam,
helps evil sing its tune instead—
and calls it life until he’s dead.
---------------------
My fatigue—I keep it whole,
no division of the soul.
In the end, you’ll measure me—
cold results, not memory.
Greed is work that eats the flame,
and calls destruction “the game.”
---------------------
“War Hero” — Priceless, if You Trust in Dreams
A “war hero” — worth a lot,
If you believe the dreams they’ve got.
But in real life, beasts of war
Keep building slaughter evermore.
Like squirrels inside a spinning wheel,
They burn ahead, they do not feel.
The “heroes” run their endless track—
While lies are pumped to feed them back.
The beasts proclaim the “noble fight,”
And name the foes to blacken light,
Turning the world to ash and dust—
A hell of fraud, a world grown crust.
---------------------
War Hero (The Machine’s Version)
A “war hero”—priced and praised,
If in dreamlands you are dazed.
But in truth, the non-human breed
Keeps slaughter running, feeding greed.
Like wheels that turn without release,
They run in loops that never cease.
The “heroes” march their scripted role
While lies are drilled into the soul.
They sell the cause, they sell the fight,
Define the “enemy” and “right,”
And grind the world to cinder ash—
A manufactured, endless crash.
---------------------
Heroes priced on dreamer’s breath,
Real world ruled by loops of death.
Running circles, blind and fast—
Lies define what doesn’t last.
---------------------
Power Lies in Deception
“Eggplant caviar!”—a shining trick,
A perfect mask, a polished shtick.
The world’s a rabbit hole of haze,
Where only liars earn their praise.
Power lies in false design,
And guns become the final line.
Wherever you may turn or go,
Distorted truths continue flow.
They turn belief to filth and waste,
Corrupting minds with studied haste.
And those who trust the lies they hear—
Are always far too many here.
From waste to void, from blur to night,
The soul dissolves from truth and light.
And in that fog of endless spin,
The self is lost, consumed within.
---------------------
Strength in Lies
“Eggplant caviar”—a staged illusion,
World of rabbits, mass confusion.
Down the hole, the liars reign,
Calling falsehood truth again.
Force is built on lies and fear,
With guns as final argument here.
Everywhere distortion grows,
Turning thought to rotten flows.
Belief decays to waste and dust,
For many still believe they must.
From waste to silence, mind decays—
And soul is lost in liar’s haze.
---------------------
Power grows on lies alone,
Truth reduced to broken bone.
Guns complete the final thread—
And the soul is lost and dead.
---------------------
The Triumph of Mediocrity
We plunder, break, and press the weak—
That’s how we stretch the final peak
Of a decaying empire’s breath,
Where effort feels like certain death.
To work is hard, but war feels right—
So cruelty becomes our light.
And evil finds its natural home
In every land it learns to roam.
It spreads its banner, grim and vast,
And turns the axe into a mask—
A symbol feared in every place,
Of power stripped of any grace.
---------------------
Victory of the Base
We loot and break and hold them down,
To slow the fall of what we crown.
An empire rotting from within—
Too lazy for reform or spin.
To fight is easy, work is not—
So war becomes the only thought.
And filth rides out across the earth,
Proclaiming ruin as its worth.
The axe is raised, a sacred fear,
Where nothing human grows near.
Mediocrity takes the throne—
And calls the ruins all its own.
---------------------
We break and loot to mask decay,
And stretch the end one more short day.
War is easy, work is pain—
So ruin wears the world’s domain.
---------------------
The Cuckoo Jammed
The cuckoo’s stuck—it calls the same,
A fool believes life is a game
That must be stretched, without an end,
To let all vulgar things extend.
To keep the trivial, dull, and base
Forever fixed in time and space—
To stretch decay until it swells,
And drown what human feeling tells.
---------------------
Broken Cuckoo
The cuckoo’s jammed in endless tone—
A fool believes he won’t be thrown
Too soon into the final night,
So drags the dullness into spite.
He stretches filth to infinity,
Kills off all humanity.
A world of rot, prolonged by will—
Until the soul is standing still.
---------------------
The cuckoo stuck in endless sound—
A fool extends decay around.
Prolong the vile, the dull, the grim—
And human light is slowly dim.
---------------------
“Education Is Light?”
“Education is light,” they say—
Then light turns into workday gray:
At dawn you rise, you’re sent away,
To jobs where thoughts are taught to stay.
During this grand “processing” stage,
They build your mind into a cage—
A plug, a stopper, fit to block
The cracks in every crumbling rock.
A broken world is patched and sewn
With obedient flesh and bone—
Where thinking fades and slowly dies,
And empty memory complies.
They overload the fragile mind,
Till thought itself is left behind—
And sinks into the rotting deep
Where dullness and decay will keep.
For many, schooling is the forge
Where human spirit learns to gorge
On emptiness, refined and cold—
And loses everything once told.
---------------------
Education as Light?
“Education is light,” they claim—
Then work begins, the same old game.
At dawn you go, you fall in line,
And learn to serve the dull design.
A system built to re-arrange
The mind until it stops to change—
To make a plug, a useful tool
For sealing cracks in broken rule.
The world is patched with willing flesh,
While thought is crushed, controlled, made fresh—
Not fresh with life, but blank and still,
A silent, programmable will.
And when the pressure reaches peak,
Even thought forgets to speak—
And falls into a void so deep
Where hollow minds no longer keep.
---------------------
“Light of learning”—then you go
Into the grind, the endless flow.
They shape you into useful tools
To plug the cracks of broken rules.
And thought dissolves in dull decay—
The school that takes your mind away.
---------------------
March into Nothing
From fascism to fascism still,
Through softer masks that hide the will,
Beneath a shadowed, false divine,
The world is led toward a final line.
Genocide and slow decay,
And deeper bending every day—
The spirit breaks, the mind grows numb,
In lies where all false visions come.
To fear and blind obedience chained,
In dreams of fathers long disdained,
The march proceeds from blade and guill—
To sickness dressed as destiny’s will.
Reprocessing the human herd—
Where thought itself is deemed absurd.
The Darkness wants not minds, but mass,
Where skin and shine replace the class.
And where do we go? Where is the door?
Hell is no symbol anymore—
It lives right here, in plain disguise,
Where servants rule in demon’s guise.
The politician—clown in shade,
Spreading the filth his hands have made.
And lies return in endless form,
While dullness takes it all as norm.
An endless loop of foolish night,
Where blindness learns to call it “right”—
To bow to Evil, call it grace,
And worship ruin as its place.
---------------------
March into Nothingness
From fascism to fascism’s chain,
Through softer masks that hide the stain—
Beneath a false and darker creed,
The world is driven to its need.
Decay and genocide expand,
As tighter grips take all the land.
The mind and spirit fade to void,
By lies and madness overjoyed.
In fear and servitude they fall,
In dreams of ancestors long gone—all
Forgotten now, the march goes on
From slaughter’s edge to deeper con.
The system breaks the human core,
No need for thought or truth anymore.
It wants a herd, not thinking minds,
Where skin alone the value finds.
And where to turn? There is no way—
Hell is no myth, it’s here to stay.
Its servants wear both crown and face,
While ruin spreads through every place.
The clown-politic paints the scene,
With filth that turns the world obscene.
And lies repeat their empty art,
While ignorance plays its part.
A cycle sealed in endless dread,
Where blindness bows and calls it “bread”—
To serve the void, embrace the fall,
And worship nothingness as all.
---------------------
From fascist form to fascist chain—
The world repeats its loss and pain.
Blind minds obey, forget, decay—
And call the ruin “better way.”
---------------------
Top Officials Behind Bars
Top-ranking officials now fall,
A blockbuster—tears from all.
The crowd goes wild, the verdict’s cast—
At small-time prey they shout “At last!”
But truth runs deeper, cold and grim:
The small are baited, crushed for him—
While one fat “untouchable” stands,
Still floating free through all the lands.
---------------------
Selective Justice
High officials are being brought to trial—
And crowds like in a movie weep and brood.
“Catch the small fry!”—loud they scream,
As justice plays a staged routine.
But all the noise is just a screen:
One bloated beast stays unforeseen—
Unsinkable, too fat to sink,
Still laughing at the system’s brink.
---------------------
Big names fall for public show,
Tears and cameras overflow.
Small ones chased—but truth is stark:
One fat monster swims in dark.
---------------------
Bare Ass
Bare ass on a hedgehog—better by far
Than drowning in bullshit where fake-news stars
Make you shit yourself quietly, smile on your face,
While media circus rewrites the place.
Then slowly you bend to the system of spite,
Train yourself never to hear inner light—
So the soul gets muted, erased from within,
And you learn to obey where the darkness has been.
---------------------
Bare Ass on a Hedgehog
Better to sit on a hedgehog’s spine
Than rot in the noise of the media line,
To shit yourself silently, numbly, and then
Adjust to the rule of the lie-written pen.
They train you to bend, to forget what you feel,
To kill off the voice that once told you what’s real—
Till you fit the machine, calm, obedient, tame,
And never again hear your soul call your name.
---------------------
Bare ass on thorns is cleaner pain
Than media lies inside the brain.
Bend to the system, lose your soul—
And learn to call corruption “whole.”
---------------------
“What people—no guards around!”
“What people—no protection found!”—
A goat among the sheep around.
Not poverty made them this way—
They bent to Evil, lost the day.
Or to put it simply, it’s plain:
They just went totally insane…
---------------------
No Guards Needed
“What people—walking free, unbound!”
A goat is lost among the crowd.
Not hunger broke them, not despair—
They bowed to Evil, didn’t care.
In simpler truth, stripped of disguise—
They cracked inside and lost their minds.
---------------------
No guards—what people, what a scene:
A goat among the herd of sheep.
Not poor—just bent to darkness’ will,
Or simply broken, dumb and still.
201 poems
© Copyright: Èãîðü Âûõîâàíåö, 2026
Ñâèäåòåëüñòâî î ïóáëèêàöèè ¹226061600258
Ñâèäåòåëüñòâî î ïóáëèêàöèè ¹226061600258
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