86 poems

At the Final Line, or Boiling Out the Lice

The system's old before the Flood—
The Flood itself is drawing near.
Yet other slogans fill the blood:
"The worst is coming!" loud and clear.

To those awake, alert with dread,
No place remains in filth and lies.
A soul in falsehood walks half-dead—
Let Fear consume the fools it buys.

That's how the foul foundations stand,
Of servitude no chains can break.
But speak not of the Sun's command!
Its rays the sleeping spirit wake.

The elder folk recall the dawn—
Its light was brighter, warm and true.
Now CO;'s the sacred song:
"Cut more! Obey! Start life anew!"

No radiant future waits ahead
Where slavery and madness reign.
Their cloak of lies is thickly spread;
Not even wit can pierce the stain.

The honest and the watchful few
Can only wait till darkness ends.
The rare wise soul still struggles through,
Surrounded by well-fed vermin friends.

Consumption, nonsense, moral rot—
The world's prevailing creed today.
Dark laughter is the final lot,
When Hell's last border bars the way.

---

Ending variants.

Consumer lust and crawling vice—
The world's defining marks remain.
One thing is left: to mock the lice
While standing at the Gates of Pain.

--

Consumer cult and filth combined—
The badges of the age we see.
A bitter laugh is all we find
At Hell's last line of destiny.



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System Failure

System failing—
Spirit trailing,
Logic breaks and drifts apart.
Step outside—keep soul and heart.



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System Crash

System broken—
Spirit's token
Lost in logic's hollow art.
Stand outside—stay whole at heart.



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System Fault

System failure.
Spirit's failure.
Logic scatters into night.
Stand outside—and stand upright.



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System Error

System error—
Spirit's terror.
Logic falls and comes apart.
Stand outside—you're not the marred.



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System Failure

The system breaks—
The Spirit wakes.
Logic scatters, torn apart.
Stand outside... and keep your heart.



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System Glitch

System failure—
Spirit's savior.
"Logic" falls in tangled rot.
Step outside—you're not forgot.



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System Crash

System crash—
Spirit's flash.
"Logic" stumbles, lost in fraud.
Stand apart—and stay unmarred.



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System Fault

System fault—
Spirit's vault.
"Reason" wanders, split in two.
Stand outside—and stay true.



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Culture's Cozy Niche

Culture's cozy little trade:
Fools and foolesses parade,
Preaching to the waiting mass
What they're told—through strain and farce.



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Culture's Easy Pay

Culture grants an easy stay:
Fools perform for cushy pay.
To the crowd they loudly preach
What they're ordered all to teach.



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Culture's Sinecure

Culture's sinecure once more:
Fools take up their scripted chore.
To the masses, dull and grim,
They recite the approved hymn.



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Culture's Payroll

Culture keeps them well supplied:
Fools on every platform ride.
To the mob they drone on cue,
Pushing what they're told is true.



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Failure Ends

Failure ends—
Silence bends.
All dissolves; no other way:
Matter's chains have sealed the day.



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The End of Failure

Failure's done.
Silence won.
All must crumble, all must fall—
Matter forged the prison wall.



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Closing Failure

Failure closes.
Silence grows.
Ruin was the only course,
Bound by Matter's prison-force.



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A Final Full Stop

Failure—ended.
Silence blended.
Nothing else could come to be:
Matter forged captivity.



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Erasing Poets for Decades

Mandelstam—
Gone. The sham
Still goes on from age to age:
"Attack!"—the honest, clear-eyed sage.



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Erasing the Memory of Poets

Mandelstam—
Lost. What sham!
Nothing's changed beneath the sun:
Truthful souls are hunted on.



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Poets Erased

Mandelstam—
Silenced. Damn.
History repeats once more:
"Get the honest!"—hear the roar.



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Forgotten Poets

Mandelstam—
Rubbed from time.
Still the same relentless cry:
"Hunt the truthful! Let them die!"



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The Pen

Stalls. Swill. A flock of sheep.
Fear. Madness. Lies run deep.
Their shepherd grips with iron grin:
A vampire, Satanist, cretin.



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Sheepfold

Pen. Slop. A mindless flock.
Fear. Delusion. Fraud. Mock.
Their shepherd rules with grasping hand—
A fiend too vile to rightly stand.



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The Fold

Stall. Swill. Obedient sheep.
Fear. Falsehood. Madness deep.
Their shepherd, eager for command:
Ghoul, Satanist, idiot grand.



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The Sheep Pen

Sheep pen. Swill. A bleating herd.
Fear. Madness. Every word
Serves a shepherd, cold and mean:
Satan's leech. A witless fiend.



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Gangs, fear, and propaganda—
That's the North's own Uganda.
Stagnant minds. Oil. Gas. Deceit.
Beasts give orders—they compete.



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Gangs and fear and propaganda—
Welcome to the Northern Uganda.
Oil and gas, dull minds that cower—
Beasts command with borrowed power.



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Gang and terror. Propaganda—
Northern-style Uganda.
Oil and gas, dull minds obey;
Beasts decide what all must say.



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Gangs. Fear. Endless propaganda—
Turns the North to dark Uganda.
Sluggish minds and fossil gold—
Beasts command, both bought and sold.



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Gangs. Fear. Propaganda's reign—
North becomes Uganda's chain.
Oil and gas. Minds cold as clay.
Beasts command—and all obey.



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Comrade, trust—the price will soar
On food and cheap consumer store.
They drag the world below the Deep:
A war on Mind and Spirit keeps.



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Comrade, have no doubt at all:
Food and bargain goods will climb.
Lower than the lowest fall—
Spirit, Reason: crushed by time.



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Comrade, faith will be repaid—
Higher prices every day!
Food and junk grow ever dear,
While Mind and Spirit disappear.



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Comrade, soon you'll plainly see:
Prices rise triumphantly.
Down beneath the deepest night—
Spirit, Reason—they must fight.



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Comrade, trust—the prices climb:
Food and junk cost more each time.
They drive the world beneath the Deep—
Against the Soul and Mind they keep
A ceaseless war.



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Comrade, trust—the prices climb;
Food and junk cost more each time.
They drag the world below the Deep—
On Soul and Mind they wage their siege.



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Comrade, trust—the prices climb;
Food and junk cost more each time.
They drag the world beneath the mire—
Mind and Spirit under fire.



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Die—and never watch again
This insane and vulgar Hell.
Faith alone condemns you then.
Death's the gate where rebirth dwells.



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




Better die than watch this Hell,
Madness dressed in cheap disguise.
Trust in anything? They tell:
"You're the villain!"—thus they cry.
Rebirth comes through Death alone.



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




Die before your spirit bends;
Spare your eyes this vulgar Hell.
Faith makes outcasts in the end.
Death alone breaks open shells.



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




Die—and never see again
This insane, profane abyss.
If you still believe—you'll gain
Only blame. Through Death comes bliss.



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Die—and never watch this Hell,
Madness clothed in cheap disguise.
Faith brands every soul unwell.
Death lets Life again arise.



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Die—and turn your eyes away
From this mad and vulgar Hell.
Faith makes outcasts every day.
Through Death, rebirth begins to dwell.



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




Facts? Fabrications, fraud and lies,
Tampered truths in neat disguise.
Media gods reshape the sky—
Beasts forge worlds and call them "true."



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Facts? Just fiction, fraud and lies,
Twisted proof in smart disguise.
Media gods create the scene—
Brutish beasts behind the screen.



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Facts? Forgery. Fraud. Deceit.
Truth made false, yet looks complete.
Media gods play God all day—
Brutes invent the world we pay.



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Facts? Fictions. Frauds. Distorted views.
Counterfeits dressed up as news.
Media gods create their scheme—
Creatures manufacture dreams.



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Facts? Fabrications, fraud and lies.
Truth dressed up in false disguise.
Media gods play God anew—
Beasts forge worlds and call them true.



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Fascist Regime

Fascist regime—
They poison the dream.
Their "country" is smoke,
A hollow-made joke.
Down into the abyss
We all plunge like this.



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Fascist State

Fascist regime—
Rot planted from teen.
The "nation" is mist,
A lie tightly kissed.
We fall through the seam—
All lost in the stream.



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The Fascist Machine

Fascist machine—
They rot us unseen.
The "homeland" is smoke,
A poisonous joke.
With lies as our guide,
We fall down the slide.



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Fascist Regime

Fascist regime:
They poison our dream.
The "country" is haze—
A trick and a phrase.
We rush to the rim...
And fall in the dim.

---

Variant of the 2 last lines.

All plunge to the abyss—
No turning from this.



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The Kingdom of Genocide

The Realm of Medicine — a throne
Where Symptoms rule as kings alone.
Fear is the master of the hall,
And side effects? Ignored by all.

The patient is no living soul,
But merely used to serve a goal:
For trials, profit, endless gain —
A numbered object in the chain.

The vermin marched through every stage
Of rot and ruin, age by age;
The final truth their horns unlock:
The Devil reigns above this flock.

In this dark realm, virology
Becomes the peak of demonology.
Once witches were the ones to blame;
Now viruses receive the name.

With noise and panic, fear is spread
Among the weak, the poorly led.
The cruel will always find a way
To make their twisted claims hold sway.

They'll praise the worth of useless things,
Of poisoned gifts with hidden stings —
A slow-made toxin, sweetly sold
To foolish minds and hearts of gold.

A shot — a joke. The cruel ones laugh
At those who question their false path.
The coming horrors mark the road,
Milestones toward the Hell abode.

Drive lies and fear into the crowd,
Wrap false diseases in a shroud;
Convince them masks are less effective
Than doubtful cures made "protective."

The madhouse marches, proud and blind,
Toward Hell — where human souls unwind;
Where, stripped of reason, stripped of grace,
They turn to beasts and lose their face.



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History's Cycle: The Repeating Patterns of Imposed Illusions

Nonlinear history:
Patterns rise and patterns fall,
Artificial misery
Repeats its ancient call.

"Victory!" — the fools proclaim,
Blinded by their empty pride;
Only beasts can win the game,
While the victims multiply wide.

Countless servants of the lie
Sing their propaganda songs:
"Freedom!" "Progress!" — words that fly
From their loud and hollow tongues.

When all scales are truly weighed,
What remains beneath the mask?
Lies and fraud, a grand charade,
Madness answering every task.

Fear spreads everywhere like gas,
Poisoning the human mind,
Driving down the rotten mass
Toward a madness undefined.

Those who pose as sages speak
With a wisdom thin and fake;
Empty voices, hollow, weak,
Wear the crowns they never make.

Like a worm that slowly gnaws,
Hopelessness consumes the few
Who still feel the hidden flaws,
Who still dream and create anew.

What is pushed becomes the prize,
What is marketed must be great;
Yet beneath the glitter lies
Only emptiness and fate.

Then comes the final stage:
No more strength to live or sing.
History's nonlinear age
Turns to a distorted thing.

Into a phantasmagoric night,
Into barriers built of lies,
False diseases, borrowed fright,
Artificial worlds will rise.

Degradation reaches peak,
Everything decays and fails.
What emerges from the bleak,
Rotten foam of poisoned tales?

One conclusion cuts through all:
No exceptions. None remain.
After climbing through the fall —
Everyone is lost again.




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The Reader — The Inner Editor

The Reader — an editor,
If not a betrayer;
He rewrites the trash
With a mind rising higher,
Beyond all the ceiling
Of frauds in the text.
In this broken world,
Where the false is a pretext,

A pretext to sink
To a kingdom below,
Where the "god" wears horns
And the dark currents flow.
Thought turns into curses,
The Spirit in check —
A game lost by silence,
With no way back.



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Reader and Writer

Reader — the writer,
If not the betrayer.
He fixes the nonsense
With thoughts ever higher.

When fraud fills the pages,
And lies wear a mask,
He rebuilds meaning
Beyond the false task.

In this crippled world
Where deception is key,
A lie is a doorway
To worse misery.

Where "God" wears the horns,
Where reason is numb,
Where thought becomes poison,
And Spirit is — checkmate.



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



Game Over

A nomad in a frozen hut,
A fool inside the Parliament,
A tyrant hiding underground,
The herd locked in its fenced enclosure.

"Reason" drowned in evil's stench —
That is the media's great venture.

They believe. They bow. They follow.
Getting dumber, growing hollow,
Driven by fear, by lies surrounded,
Never asking, never doubting.

Thus they slowly turn to cattle,
Raised for slaughter, fit for battle.
Those who sink and lose their way
Sell their Spirit to the grey.

No horizons, no tomorrow —
Only evil's endless sorrow.
Dark days break through every wall,
Though they dream and claim: "All's well."

"Everything is fine," they say,
While the beast grows every day.

Strength is fading, lies are spreading,
Fear is planted, minds are dreading.
Rot consumes and slowly wins,
Crushing what remains within.

Darkness rises. Time is up.
Soon they drink the bitter cup.



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The "Silken" Way

A lone wolf knows
How the path of Death flows.
When a beast clicks the lock —
Blood. Grass feels like silk cloth.

By the "Silken" Way
We shall leave Evil's sway,
Find the light of the day,
Not as cattle decay,
Not as dogs we remain —
That is happiness' claim.

The lies of the vile
Walk with Darkness in style;
A pact with the night,
A marriage with blight.

Better break free,
Even shattered to be.

The question remains:
Through the storms and the chains,
Did you find your own road
To save your soul's load?

Your "Silken" Way lies
Past the horrors and lies.
The wolf's nature is clear:
Death walks always near.



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



School Curricula

School curricula:
To the shallow minds
Seem to be designed
Just for their own kind,

For the "light" of learning,
Not the slow returning
Of the free-born thought,
Bold and brightly wrought.

Faded are the patterns,
Foreign tons of matters —
A tool to make the Mind
Lose itself, confined.

Till a spark of Reason
Buried in the season
Of the endless trash
Turns to dust and ash.

Then the Spirit's throne,
Once above the known,
Falls beneath the brain —
A servant in the chain.

You become a tool,
A number in the school.
Much effort has been spent
On the perfect mechanism:

Plans and manuals sharpened,
Every pathway darkened —
Till the crowd's "mind" flies
Like a bird that never flies.



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



Authorship: Dictatorship

Authorship: dictatorship
Will hollow out all things,
That dare resist its rhythm —
And break them on its wings.

Rot seeks its nourishment,
Its fertile, foul domain:
The Kingdom of Decay
Where nothing blooms again.



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The Author Is the Tyrant

The Author: Tyranny.
It strips away the whole
That moves not in its rhythm,
And mutilates the soul.

The rot demands its soil,
The decay its breeding ground —
The Kingdom of Corruption
Where life is never found.



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Axiom as Sarcoma

An axiom like a cancerous growth
Has eaten deep into the mind;
No escape remains, no path —
No cure, no truth to find.

The madhouse stands upon this base,
While Lies and Madness crown the dome;
If "matter" is the only face
Of all existence known.

Then only Hell can be the end,
A realm of darkness, cold and stark,
Whose final purpose is to send
The Spirit banished into dark.



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The Axiom's Plague

An axiom — a hidden scar,
A cancer rooted in the brain;
The madhouse built upon its core,
With Lies and Madness as its reign.

If Matter becomes the only law,
The only pattern, final frame —
Then Inferno opens its door,
And Spirit vanishes in flame.



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



Alan Shore — Court in Stagnation

Alan Shore — the court stands still,
They announce the final will.
Once again, absurdity reigns,
A "legal mind" more cruel than chains.



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The Verdict

Alan Shore — the courtroom waits,
A verdict echoes through the gates.
Again, the nonsense takes the throne,
A "lawman" worse than thieves unknown.



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



The Archaeologist

An archaeologist — a speleologist
Of caves where Darkness sets the law,
He digs out frauds and falsehoods hidden,
To strengthen myths that minds adore.



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



The Cave Explorer

An archaeologist of the night,
A spelunker of forbidden caves,
Brings up deception from the depths —
To build the phantoms Darkness saves.



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Ballad: "You'll Turn to Filth"

You’ll gain the gold,
Your joys unfold,
So bright the final day.
But you won’t reach
That promised beach —
You’ll vanish on the way.



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Ballad: "The Price of Becoming Vile"

You’ll chase the treasure,
You’ll find your pleasure,
Or so the shadows say.
But when you run
For what you’ve won,
You’ll fade and fall away.



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The Struggle for "Freedom"

The fight for "freedom"
Is bait for the feeble,
Who've lived in their chains
For centuries, in vain.

Thus Darkness commands
With fools in its hands:
A valve is provided —
The pressure divided.



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The "Freedom" Valve

The fight for "freedom" —
A trick for the timid,
For those who for ages
Have bowed to their cages.

So Darkness controls
The broken and dull:
It opens a valve —
Lets steam out of all.



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



Presence in Absence

In absence — Presence appears.
In Presence — nothing remains.
To inner worlds, the pathway steers;
Outside — truth through falsehood drains.



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



Within and Without

In absence — there is Presence.
In Presence — only void.
The inner worlds give guidance;
The outer ones are destroyed.

A sieve for lies is all we see
Beyond the mind's own gate;
While inward paths reveal the key
To what transcends our fate.



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Under Strict Conditions

Under strict conditions,
The foundation is deception.
Liars rise like gods above,
With empty minds and empty love.

Their only skill is endless speech,
A polished mask they always teach.
"Come on — embrace the change!" they cry,
From chains to gallows — march and die.



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The Stage of Change

In rigid times,
The base is lies.
The liars play
As gods in disguise.

With little thought
But endless chatter,
They promise change —
Yet nothing's better.

"Forward!" they shout,
"Break free today!"
From prison's gate
To the block they stray.



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



Classified

The "Classified" mark pecks away
At the corpse of a nation in decay.
The people are spent, their fate concealed —
By hidden genocide, then openly sealed.

The secret vultures strip the bone,
The final blow comes fully shown;
A plague of cruelty, cold and wide —
Like CowID spreading far and wide.



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Top Secret

The "Top Secret" vultures feed
On a country's dying seed.
Hidden slaughter takes its toll,
Open terror claims the whole.

First in shadows, then in sight,
Death advances through the night.
What was hidden breaks the lid —
Like the horrors marked "CowID".



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The Cockroach

The cockroach rushes to the tray,
Where poisoned food is served today.
Everything rests on "two-D" sight —
He gladly avoids the deeper light.

And "happiness" would lose its ease.
The cockroach's joy is simple, small:
To crawl for food throughout it all.

His world is narrowed to the chase:
Consumption, breeding, empty plays.
To rare and sensitive souls appears
A filthy world of dust and fears.

The eyes of the rare ones slowly fade —
No future waits within this shade.
Only breakthroughs of ugliness rise,
While madness wears a normal guise.

The poison gathered through the years,
Through generations, minds and spheres;
In bodies too, decay is grown —
And finer worlds turn into stone.

The cockroach trusts tomorrow's day:
There will be food along the way.
It's plentiful, for all is given —
The war on Spirit has been driven.


---

Variant of the last stanza.

The cockroach smiles: tomorrow's bright,
The feast is ready, day and night.
For all that lives by base desire,
Has drowned the subtle in the mire.



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Children of the School of Arbitrary Rule

Children in the schools of force
Strain themselves beyond all course.
So the hunger for career
Kills the sense that should be clear.

Is this progress? Is this rise?
Or just a mad race in disguise?



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The Career Race

Children in the schools of pressure
Live in constant, harsh displeasure.
Thus the climb for rank and name
Burns the common sense to flame.

Is it growth they chase so fast?
Or a leap into the abyss?



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Dissidents

Dissidents — a part of the scheme,
Of madhouses and camps unseen.
A hundred pages list the themes
That must not ever be touched or seen.



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The Dissident's Place

Dissidents belong to the system's frame,
To prisons, wards, and halls of shame.
A hundred pages mark the lines
Where forbidden thought no longer shines.



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The Dragon "Fearful Fight" and the Fool

"Fearful Fight" — the final war,
Not with enemies anymore,
But with yourself you march alone,
Through fear and lies that you have known.

A restless fool in shadows turns,
Where borrowed darkness slowly burns;
The dragon feeds on hidden fright —
A phantom born of falsehood's night.



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The Dragon "Fear the Fight"

"Fear the Fight" — your final day,
Not against a foe you stray.
You face yourself, your deepest wrath,
With fear absorbed along the path.

Through lies you wander, blind and stark,
A restless fool within the dark.



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Still Waiting

You wait for something, hoping still,
In a world that bares its will;
A world with lies that grin and bite,
That crush the Mind and Spirit's light.

Yet speaks in whispers, day by day,
Of "progress" marching on its way.



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Waiting for Tomorrow

Still you wait, still you believe,
Still some hope you won't leave.
In a world of snarling lies,
Where the Mind and Spirit die,

While they mutter, soft and slow,
"Progress comes" — and onward go.