Игорь Выхованец, стихи 24001-24500

Игорь Выхованец, стихи: 24001-24500



Кино для дураков
Достало. Спасу нет:
Почти весь мир таков —
Тоска, чушь, ложь и бред.



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Барановирус

Из простуды —
"Катастрофу".
Сплошь иуды:
Царство Проку
Опрокинули —
В Лагерь двинули.




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Фашизм.
Рашизм.
Исхода нету:
Мир подчиняется лишь Бреду.



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Ушло везение.
Растёт презрение
К уродству быта,
Где карта бита.

Не Яви карта —
Она вне фарта.
Её узри
Как Свет ВНУТРИ.




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One Slavery Replaced by Another

"Great changes come!" — the slogans roar.
Strange how they're swallowed far more
Than little truths that slowly grow —
The lie of Power steals the show.

One slave-built order fades away;
Another takes its place next day.
They call it Freedom—cheers arise,
And fools believe the old disguise.

"The past was dark! The dawn is near!"
They wait for miracles each year.
One sea alone spreads far and wide,
Its every wave a grief-filled tide.

Not born of thought, nor sharpened mind,
But filth that teaches all to blind.
That sea is sewage, foul and deep;
The systems? Foam the currents keep.

Below, where sunlight never shone,
Old Neptune claims the muck his throne.
No master knows the mire like he,
Who rules through endless slavery.

He changes chains from age to age,
Yet every swap breeds fouler stench.
He floods the world with SMRAD's breath,
Perfuming Evil, masking death.

The vulgar slave, with clouded brain,
Embraces every gilded chain.
He gladly kneels, convinced once more
The cage's lock's an open door.

Then swim—or sink. The days decay,
In crippled rows they drift away.
Until you find your truest flame,
You'll never know your rightful name.

Your spirit buried in the slime,
Your daily life consumed by grime;
Just splashing through the choking bog,
Where every breath becomes a fog.

"Don't touch the system!" people cry—
"It reeks enough. Just let it lie."
Yet each must choose, and none evade:
Endure... or seek another way.

Seek not the drain where sewage streams,
But seek the Source beyond all dreams.
The "teachings" sold in every mart
Flow downward, never upward start.

Awake the seed of conscious sight;
Step free into the Living Light.
The Stream of Seeing strips each lie,
Where Hell's illusions shrivel, die.

The Path's a beam no chains can bind—
A flight beyond the prisoned mind.
Either I soar... or Hell I claim:
No third road bears another name.

Believe there's more? Your Spirit dies,
Still cradling filth with loving eyes.



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Estranged from a Twisted World

This estrangement since my youth
Was no whim nor passing mood.
Born within a twisted world,
Built on madness, lies, and fraud.

Every fresh and "noble" order
Makes the ancient chains hold fast;
Painting slavery in brighter
Colours darker than the last.

"Vice is normal!"—so they mutter.
Hell for those whose hearts still see.
Fools rejoice to kneel and worship;
Legions march in misery.

From the cradle comes the taming:
Education cracks the soul.
Schools drive out the free-born thinker,
Stuffing minds with lifeless scrolls.

Fear hangs low like storm clouds gathering
Over every bowed-down head.
If you will not share submission,
Loneliness will grow instead.

Then you see the grand Decay;
Sense no worthy future waits.
Those who keep their Spirit living
Walk outside Bedlam's gates.

Boors piled high on boors forever,
Folly poured into the base—
Climbing such a filthy pyramid
Brings no honour, strength, or grace.

Better dwell in separation,
If you're wakeful, if you know.
That alone remains the normal;
All the rest's a fatal flow—

Like a plague that feeds on Spirit,
Gnawing Reason to the bone.
Do not dive into its whirlpool—
Turn within, and stand alone.

There the Soul begins its speaking;
There its silent summons rings.
Thus you're sheltered from Delusion,
From the Lie that poisons things.

Perhaps you'll find the hidden Fountain,
Find the Path where Truth has stood.
That is what estrangement offers—
Not escape, but highest good.

There your Homeland waits in silence,
Not the world's devouring pit.
Leave that bottomless abyss behind you.
Walk the Path—and never quit.



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The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism

The cross—a crucifix on you.
"Love your neighbour"? Not quite true.
Satan crowned his reign with dread,
While murk keeps filth and evil fed.



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The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism

The cross—you nail yourself in place.
"Love thy neighbour" masks disgrace.
Satan planted fear instead;
Murky lies hide living dead.



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The Sign of the Cross... of Satanism

Cross yourself—and bear the nail.
"Love thy neighbour"—holy veil.
Satan wrapped his horror tight;
Fog conceals the foul from sight.



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Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"...

Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Lost in Fascism's filth and vanity.
Masks they wear from dawn till night,
Silly fools in borrowed light.



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Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"

Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Wading through Fascism's foul insanity.
Every fool puts on a face,
Acting out the same disgrace.



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Vanya, Manya—"Pan" and "Pani"

Vanya, Manya—pan and pani,
Midst Fascism's reeking vanity.
Masks conceal both fool and clown—
Empty heads in costumes drown.



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All Is Illusion

All's illusion. This small sphere
Stores up vileness year by year.
Then slaps labels on the lie,
So the fools will gladly buy.



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Everything's illusion here;
Filth is hoarded year by year.
Labels pasted, bright and slick—
Just to fool the gullible quick.



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All's illusion. Rotten trade:
Filth in endless stock is laid.
Then new labels dress the fraud—
Fools applaud what should be barred.



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All is illusion. Day by day
Filth is carefully stored away.
Then fresh labels seal the sham,
Sold to fools as priceless glam.



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The Crowbar of Light

A sudden insight crossed the mind
Long beaten down by sham and fear.
It washed the nonsense from within;
The Light at last burned bright and clear.

The slave, now seeing, fierce with truth,
Raised Light itself—a crowbar's might.
He smashed the barriers, cracked the codes,
And split apart the reign of Night.

The rotten world dissolved away,
Its poisoned laws, its crumbling shrine.
One mighty blow—and down there fell
The false-made idol, once divine.

A single soul? Yes, one alone.
Yet every breakthrough lights the sky.
From Darkness' kingdom comes the breach
That Tyranny would crucify.

For Darkness fears the smallest spark
That breaks the sleepers from their dream;
It dulls the mind, devours the soul,
Till neither lives nor dares to gleam.

So people march to wars and work,
Obedient, nameless, rank by rank;
They call themselves "free citizens,"
Yet serve as slaves beneath the plank.



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Breakthrough

A thought crept in a murdered mind
And swept absurdity away.
The slave who saw the Light at last
Turned Light into a bar of sway.

He smashed the locks and broke the frame,
The walls, the chains, the rotten throne;
One strike—and every false decree,
Each idol toppled like a stone.

One person only? So it starts.
Through single hearts the breaches blaze.
The Realm of Darkness fears one thing:
A soul awake beyond its maze.

For every spark that shuns its sleep,
That stirs the dull to think anew,
Threatens the empire built on lies—
Its oldest nightmare breaking through.

They march to battle, march to work,
Still naming bondage "liberty."
They wear the title "citizen,"
Yet live in quiet slavery.



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Life as Shame

Slavery. Lies. The media's reign.
Fear and obedience. Labour in vain.
Wars without ending. Villains prevail.
Year after year, truth grows pale.

Man is reduced to cattle and clay;
None of it happens by chance today.
Most feel no shame beneath Evil's weight—
Pressed by a force they accept as fate.

Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.

Soulless machinery, cold and precise,
Turns every victim into its vice.
Round goes the circle, tighter the vise;
Few can escape its terrible price.

Betrayal's now a regular trade—
CowID showed how the system is made.
Madmen have bullied the world into chains.
Life itself blushes, burdened with stains.

Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.

Shame to decay among living dead;
Now they are countless, quietly led.
Yesterday cowards, frightened and blind—
Now they are triumphs of monstrous mind.

Darkness advances, managed with skill;
Monsters baptize every nightmare as "will."
Calling the darkness Progress and Light,
Crushing all reason out of our sight.

Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.

Nothing awaits but a worldwide cage;
Built in the name of a "kindlier" age.
Every deception the headlines proclaim;
Media trumpets repeat the same.

Resistance weakens, fewer still stand;
Honest hearts suffer on every hand.
Every attempt feels torture anew—
Under corruption the whole world withdrew.

Yet when collapse tears the empire apart,
Those who kept fighting with soul and heart
Cross to another realm set free;
Traitors sink to misery.

Lowest circle, infernal domain—
Demons are waiting, tending the flame.
Cast off the phantoms Evil has spun;
Laugh at the tyrants, every one.

Only by that is the Spirit preserved;
Everything else leaves life unnerved.
Mock the delirium ruling the earth;
Curse every prison denying true birth.

Fear keeps echoing deep in the skull.
Falsehood coils where the heart once was full.
Twisting through reason, winding like flame,
Leaving the Spirit ashes and shame.



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Life as a Glitch

Life's a glitch—and once again
You become your truest self.
Monstrous order breaks in vain;
You're no gadget on the shelf.



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System Glitch

Life malfunctioned. Through the breach
You became yourself once more.
Ugliness lost step and speech;
No machine behind the core.



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Glitch

Life glitched out—and suddenly
You were truly you once more.
Monstrosity lost perfect stride;
No gadget stood there as before.



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Fault Line

Life's gone wrong—yet through that flaw
You become yourself once more.
Ugliness has lost its law;
You're no gadget anymore.



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Closed Worlds

Closed worlds of Logic, sealed and tight,
Are countless in the human sight.
That's why opinions, proud though wise,
So often shrink to little lies.

The Heart alone sees azure skies,
Beyond the walls where Reason lies.
There's no escape while circles bind
The prison-house of human mind.

Stubborn conclusions, cold and blind,
Crush every subtle truth they find.
They wear the Spirit slowly through,
And bar the Heights from coming into view.



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Worlds of Closed Logic

Worlds of logic, locked and sealed,
Hide more than they have e'er revealed.
Thus every judgment, every creed,
Falls short of what the soul may read.

Only the Heart beholds the blue,
The endless sky beyond our view.
No path remains while thought's confined
Within the circles of the mind.

Rigid verdicts, proud and sure,
Shatter all that's deep and pure.
They wound the Soul and block the Way,
Where Higher Reality holds sway.



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The Prison of Logic

Closed are Logic's little spheres;
Countless are their walls and gears.
Thus opinions fade away,
Poor reflections gone astray.

Only Hearts behold the Height,
Fields of everlasting Light.
Thought imprisoned in its round
Cannot hear Creation's sound.

Every rigid, final claim
Breaks what subtle truths proclaim.
Soul grows dim, and wings deny
Flight into the Living Sky.



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Beyond

Another Reality lies beyond:
Infernal nightmares fade and are gone.
The Soul still lives, untouched, unbetrayed;
The mind no longer rots, enslaved

By fear and lies that drag it down,
To dwell beneath, where depths still drown.



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Reality Beyond

Beyond awaits another sphere:
Hell's nightmare vanishes from here.
The Soul survives, unstained, alive;
The mind no longer must reside

In fear and lies that sink below,
To bottoms only darkness knows.



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Beyond the Veil

Beyond—the Realm forever true.
Hell's nightmare fades from mortal view.
The Soul remains alive, unshorn;
The mind from filth is newly born.

No longer trapped by fear or lies,
No longer buried where Darkness lies.



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Beyond

Beyond—a truer Reality.
Hell forgotten. Nightmare gone.
The Soul lives on, untouched and free.
The mind no longer lies

In fear and falsehood, buried deep
Where Darkness lulls the dead to sleep.



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Sprats and Vodka

Sprats and vodka on the table,
Evening in a nowhere stable.
Tomorrow — work, the same old grind;
Drunken fools have lost their mind.



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Sprats, Vodka, Nothing More

Sprats and vodka, night is falling,
Nowhere village, shadows crawling.
Tomorrow back to daily toil —
Drunk fools drown in their own soil.



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A Nowhere Evening

Sprats and vodka fill the night,
In a town that lost its light.
Morning comes — the factory call;
Drunken fools forget it all.



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Reverse Assembly of a Fool

Reverse assembly of the fool—
The farther road: decay runs wild.
The ego rules, the skin's the rule;
"I am a beast" becomes his child.



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The Fool Reassembled Backwards

The fool is built in reverse again;
The collapse exceeds all measure.
The ego rises, king of men,
And self becomes his only treasure.



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Backward Reconstruction

A fool rebuilt in backward flow—
Beyond the point where ruins spread.
The ego returns as ruler once more,
And "I am filth" becomes his creed.



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Awaken!

Goblins drown in seas of Lies,
Their little world has died.
Fear has sharpened their angry eyes,
With filth they stand allied.

Submission, weakness, empty thought,
And madness fill the air.
Just one last pressure must be brought:
Multiply fear through the snare.

Then build the Digital Camp,
The New World, cold and bright—
Where shamans sell their poisoned lamp,
And bots enforce the night.

Only AI thinks within;
The rest is mere reflex.
They cure false plagues born from sin,
With waves of fake distress.

The CowID muzzle there appears
A fairy tale for all.
The child is trained through endless years
To love the digital wall.

From early days he's taught to bend,
To virtual whips obey.
There fools are sages, truth will end,
And madness leads the way.

A crowded herd becomes the nation,
The city is a pen.
The highest form of satisfaction:
To be fed again and again.

The food is made of GMO dreams,
Not centipedes or roaches crawling—
A perfect feast for broken schemes,
While empty souls are falling.

But Chaos comes and breaks the plan
Of those without a soul.
Those who kept the human spark as man
Will leave this poisoned whole.

Awaken to Reality,
Strengthen your inner flame.
Hell will lose its gravity;
The world of Evil fades.

Rottenness, Lies, and cowardice
Will vanish in the Fire.
The Spirit's endless vastness is
The only true desire.

The Path is self-reflection—
But first, examine all:
Cleanse thought from false infection,
Before the inner call.

Inspect the mind, remove the chains,
Let Truth become your sight.
The dream of Darkness breaks and wanes—
Awaken to the Light!



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Memory-Numbness

Memory sleeps — so all is fine,
The world still stands in perfect line.
"No chaos here," the citizen cries,
"I am no fool, I see with eyes."

The wind once more sweeps all away,
Yet still the idiot waits each day—
For manna falling from the sky,
For happiness to wander by.



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All Is Fine

Memory blurred — but all is well,
No messy world, no living hell.
"I am a citizen, not a fool!"
He proudly follows every rule.

The broom keeps sweeping, storms still roar,
Yet fools await forevermore—
Some heavenly gift, some golden sign,
Some happiness from clouds divine.



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The Comfort of Forgetting

Forgetful minds say: "All is bright!
The world is orderly, clean, and right."
"I am a citizen, wise and true—
The fools are others, not my crew."

The dust is swept, the lies remain,
Yet someone waits through sun and rain:
A miracle, a gift from above—
A happiness he never earns or loves.



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Parade of Fools

A parade of freaks goes by,
Yet the flag says: "Freedom" high.
Madness reaches darkest scale—
Lost in shadows, trapped in veil.



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The Freedom Parade

A parade of fools and clowns,
Freedom's flag above their crowns.
Madness climbs beyond control—
Darkness swallows every soul.



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Parade

A parade of twisted faces,
Freedom's flag in all its graces.
Madness bursts beyond the line—
Lost in Darkness, they decline.



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Turn Within

The engine of awareness,
Its fuel is streams of data;
But lies become the torture
Along the slave's long later.

When finally it stops,
Make then the turning move;
Discard the old commands and locks—
Inside, the self shall prove.

The steering wheel is frozen,
The Spirit takes control.
The engine's roar is broken;
No noise can shake the soul.

The ears no longer hunger,
The eyes no longer chase
The chaos and the thunder
Of that distorted place.

For there the glitches multiply,
The roots of madness grow.
But under Spirit's guidance
The mind finds where to go.

True motion, true direction—
The symbol of the Way.
So turn from the Decay Kingdom,
And rise into the day.



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The Inner Turn

Consciousness—a motor,
Information the fuel;
Fed by lies and torture,
It drives the slave by rule.

When the engine falters,
Turn the wheel inside.
Break the old instructions;
Let the Spirit guide.

The wheel is locked in rust now,
The Spirit pulls the chain.
No more mechanical thunder,
No more illusion's reign.

The senses lose their hunger
For the world's chaotic noise;
The glitch becomes the madness
That kills the inner voice.

Yet beneath the Spirit
The mind discovers motion:
A compass pointing forward
Beyond the poisoned ocean.

Leave the Realm of Ruin,
Make the final turn—
Inside yourself awaken,
And let the true fire burn.



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The Flow Runs Dry

The Flow runs dry;
The poet-fool
Has closed his book,
Finished the rule.

The chapters—chains,
The cycles—bars;
The words grow strange
Behind their scars.

For words become absurd
Inside a frame
That brings to culture
Death and shame.

Yet insight lives
Within the Word,
Beyond decay,
Beyond the blurred.

Not passing days,
But Life's own stream
Can sweep away
The ego's dream—

The dam of wants,
Desires piled high;
The Flow ascends
Into the Sky.

There Light awaits,
Beyond all dread.
Flow and Light—
The path ahead.

No fixed old marks,
No frozen stone;
Your answer lies
In moving on.



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Flow and Light

The Flow is gone;
The foolish bard
Has written all,
His final card.

The sections—chains,
The cycles—ties;
Dead words collapse
Where structure lies.

When rigid forms
Destroy the breath
Of living culture,
They bring death.

But visions hide
Within the Word;
Beyond the dust
They can be heard.

Not days that pass,
But Life's great stream
Breaks through the walls
Of selfish dream.

The dam of "me,"
Of endless desire—
The Flow will rise
And climb much higher.

Into the Sky,
Where Light is found.
Flow and Light—
The truth unbound.

No milestones bind
The road you tread;
The answer moves
Ahead, ahead.



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Break Away

Carry on,
Spirit, run,
Save the soul
In the Sun.

No more axis—
Guard your flight,
Lest you spin
Into the night.

No escape
Will remain,
If you cling
To the chain.

Stand and fight—
Lies will stay;
Spirit knows
Their decay.

Let it be—
Only one
Sudden leap
Must be done.

Sideways, wild,
Not for gain—
This is God,
Free from chain.

Lonely flame
Lives in thee,
Axis-slave—
Set it free.



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The Inner Axis

Carry forth,
Spirit rise,
Save yourself
Beyond skies.

Lose the axis,
Do not turn;
Spinning circles
Make you burn.

No strength left
To break away,
If you choose
The old replay.

Stand unmoved—
Lies remain.
Spirit sees
Through the chain.

Come what may,
Only leap,
Not straight forward—
Paths run deep.

That is God,
Hidden, lone,
Not outside—
In your own.

You, the slave
Of the axis tight,
Hold the spark
Of endless Light.



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Pushkin. Guns. Machine Guns.

Pushkin. Guns. Machine guns roar.
Not Chapay strikes the monsters anymore.
Today it's Lies and Fear that fire,
Spending souls through false desire.

The skins remain untouched and whole;
Only the twisted husk they stole
Will march again, obey the call,
And pour its lead upon them all.



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Slave-born Crowd

Slave-born crowd, if not a beast,
Let your inner lies be ceased.
Burn them down and fear will fall—
You become your master, all.

But if Hell gives no awakening,
If you bow to filth's commanding,
Then beneath its weight you stay,
Lost within its dark decay.



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Break the Chains

Slave-born mass—yet not all lost.
Kill the lies, whatever cost.
Fear will vanish, chains will break;
Own yourself, your soul awake.

But if in Hell you fail to rise,
If you bend beneath its lies,
Then the filth you chose to serve
Will become your final nerve.



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The Spreading Rot of the Soviet Shadow

Cuba—
Crude.
The States—
"Soft haze."
The transformation grows.
And Russia's path to Hell now shows.



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The Decay Spreads On

Cuba—
Roughly done.
The States—
A "fog" that waits.
The old infection grows...
And Russia follows where Hell goes.



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Resonance or Decadence

Resonance or decadence—
A fragile chance, a fleeting sense:
To grasp the essence, clear the sight,
Reject the fog, return to Light.

Resonance is not just aim;
It is the path, the guiding flame.



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Resonance

Resonance or decadence—
Life grants us but a little chance
To see the truth, discard the dust,
To rise above the empty rust.

For resonance is both the goal,
The road that leads the awakened soul.



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Resonance

Resonance or decadence—
A narrow gate, a fleeting chance.
Cast off the haze, discover truth:
Resonance is path and root.



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Rhythm Without a Center

Rhythm without a center. Fire without wood.
That is the poet—fierce, alive, and understood.
Flame without a center, a source of hidden might;
Fools cannot grasp it, lost beyond the Light.

Through the Word the old self burns away;
The scribbler dreams of gold and praise.
Forever stumbling in the Dark,
Missing the meaning, missing the spark.

Meaning is Fire. All else is stench—
The cry of "Leave me, don't you wrench
My little world, my private throne!"
No citizenship—just Soul alone.

Beyond the sight of Evil's face,
The Soul moves toward a higher place:
To burn away, to disappear,
Into Pure Spirit, far from fear.



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Fire of the Word

Rhythm without a center—
Fire without a flame.
The poet stands in power,
Beyond the common name.

A force without a center,
A core that fools deny;
They never see the meaning
That burns beneath the sky.

Through the Word all falsehood
Is consumed and turned to ash.
The graphomaniac seeks payment,
Chasing empty praise and cash.

He fails forever in the darkness,
Lost in his own decay.
For Meaning is the Fire;
The rest is smoke away.

"No one touch my ego,
My little human cage!"
No citizenship remains there—
Only Soul beyond the age.

Through seeing Evil clearly,
The Spirit starts to rise,
To burn itself completely
Beyond the Night and lies.



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The Glitch of Resolve

"Think," they say — but swallow lies,
Chewing nonsense, piece by piece.
Soon the "truth" will finally rise,
And we’ll sing it in unison, please.

As always — hiding in our holes,
Nearer to the promised dawn;
"Truth" will once again become the law,
A new "ism" where madness is born.

Darling, wait — I’m coming home,
Back to where my chains belong.



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A Failure of Resolve

"Think," they say, yet chew the trash,
Digesting all the hollow lore.
Soon the "truth" will strike and flash—
We’ll chant it proudly evermore.

Quietly, as always, crawl
Back into our hidden caves;
Thus we’ll bring the golden dawn
By becoming willing slaves.

"Truth" will be a sentence again,
A new "-ism" born from the insane.
My dear, my love, I come to you—
Back to the dream I always knew.



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Rebuilding Reality

Rebuilding Reality,
Beyond all fatality,
Beyond absurdity.
Stop! Now awaken—
Return to Before,
Where you were forsaken.



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Assembly of Reality

Reality reassembled,
Beyond Hell's broken ground,
Beyond the noise and madness,
Beyond the fate-bound sound.

Stop! Be still. Remember:
The Origin is near.
Awake within the Before—
The Source is waiting here.



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Back to Before

Reality's creation,
Beyond damnation,
Beyond hallucination.

Stop! Come alive—
Back to Before.
Awake at the Source.



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My Own Shirt Closer to Skin

The tricks of Discord: split and tear,
Rule the foolish everywhere.
Sleepy minds will never wake;
"Solid reasons" they will make—

Reasons to remain in Lies,
Bound by Fear beneath the skies.
Paying tribute, day by day,
To the shirt they wear and praise.

"Closer to the skin"—their creed;
Selfishness is all they need.
Vulgar greed and empty pride,
Madness walking by their side.

Even the wildest command
They obey at Evil's hand.
Such a herd, so blind and grim,
Falls below the beast within.



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The Shirt That Matters Most

"Divide and rule"—the oldest art,
Keeping fools apart.
They never wake, they never see,
They find excuses endlessly.

They choose their Lies, they choose their Fear,
Protect the shirt they hold so dear.
"The closest thing is mine alone"—
That is the law they've always known.

Their skin, their comfort, their own gain,
Their madness wrapped around the brain.
The strangest orders they obey,
And proudly walk the darkest way.

A herd that crawls and bows and bends,
Beyond the beasts it now descends.



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The Mind’s Utopia

The listener fails to understand,
The speaker knows not what is planned.
The essence of the question’s mystery—
Is hidden deep in philosophy.

The realm where pure thoughts freely flow
Is almost utopia we know.



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Philosophy

The hearer hears, but cannot see;
The speaker speaks absurdity.
The core of questions, deep and wise,
Is where philosophy lies.

The kingdom of the thinking mind—
A utopia almost impossible to find.



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Beyond the Noise

Those who hear may not perceive;
Those who speak may only deceive.
The question's heart, the hidden key,
Belongs to thought and philosophy.

The world of Mind, refined and bright,
Is almost a utopian light.



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



A Writers’ Union?

A union of writers?
What writers, what name?
A servant of publishers,
A coward for fame.

The flatterer rises,
The traitor survives;
Such crowds fill the halls
And poison the lives.

For all who stay honest
The burden is deep—
Not wisdom, but filth
Where the chosen ones sleep.



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



Writers’ Union?

A writers’ union?
But writers—where?
Just servants of publishers,
Lost in the snare.

The coward, the flatterer,
Always succeed;
A sea full of faces
With hunger and greed.

For those who are honest
There’s sorrow and pain:
Not lack of their wisdom—
They drown in the stain.



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



The Writers’ Guild?

What writers? What union?
What noble art?
The publisher’s servant
Plays the leading part.

The flatterers flourish,
The cowards remain;
Their numbers are endless,
A limitless chain.

The honest are suffering,
Not foolish or dim—
They simply stand alone
Amongst the grim.



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



The Structure of the Break

After a "happy" life,
One suddenly sees—
It was all just a lie,
A dream carried by breeze.

Go on to the Breakthrough,
Or better—the Blast;
Tear open the abscess
Of the foolish past.

The rupture comes bursting
From a rotten disguise—
The world of the worker
Who serves endless Lies.



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



The Break Structure

Living "happily"
For years in a row,
Suddenly realizing:
Nothing was so.

Reach for the Breakthrough,
Or better, explode—
Break out of the abscess
That poisoned the road.

A rupture tears open
The fool's little sphere,
The slave of deception,
The servant of fear.



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



Breakthrough

A life lived "happy"—
Then suddenly clear:
The whole thing was empty,
A false atmosphere.

Push toward the Breakthrough,
Or shatter the wall;
A rupture must tear
The illusion's small hall.

From the festering bubble
Of fools and deceit,
The slave breaks away
From the Lies at his feet.



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



The Stability of Falling

The balance of a falling state,
Where down appears as high;
Leave without regret the world of dust,
And rise beyond the sky.

Like the white crane above the clouds,
Seek heights untouched by mire;
Abandon all the vulgar ground—
Ascend toward the higher fire.



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



Falling Upward

A steady fall, a strange design,
Where bottom wears the crown.
Leave without sorrow, leave behind
The world that drags you down.

Fly like the crane into the height,
Beyond the common sphere;
Where vulgar shadows lose their might,
And cleaner skies appear.



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



Inverted World

A stable fall, a twisted view—
The bottom called the top.
Leave all the vulgar worlds behind,
And let their currents stop.

The crane flies upward, pure and free,
Beyond the earthly chain.
The heights await the one who leaves
The kingdom of the vain.



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



What the “Guest from the Future” Sees Today

The Guest from the Future
Grows old beneath the sky.
The bones are scattered everywhere—
Meat storms have passed them by.

Yet still the goals are "noble,"
The dreams remain so blue;
The politicians promise worlds
As liars always do.

They steer the wheel as before,
With speeches bright and grand;
The future came, looked back in grief,
And found the same old land.



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



The Future Guest

The Guest from the Future
Now ages with the years;
Only bones remain around her,
After battles soaked in tears.

But still the goals are "holy,"
The horizons painted blue;
The rulers speak like yesterday—
The same old lies renew.



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



Alien to the World

Alien to the world is he
Who lifts the Lyre above all things,
Rejecting chains of dark decree
And evil's schemes with broken wings.

His fierce and blazing poetry
Is not for fools who crawl below;
It speaks to those who dare to see
The hidden fires that rise and glow.



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



Not of This World

Not of this world—
The one whose Lyre
Stands above all,
A sacred fire.

He breaks the schemes
That Evil weaves;
His burning verse
Is not for beasts.



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



The Lyre Above All

Stranger to the common crowd,
He places Lyre above the loud.
He breaks the patterns built by Evil,
Rejects the rules of worldly weevil.

His fierce-born verse, his flaming song,
Was never meant for the dull and wrong.
The herd may mock, the fools may flee—
The Lyre belongs to spirits free.



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



Nonsense. Noise. Fear. Mockery.

Nonsense. Noise.
Fear. Mockery.
The dull mind dies—
And silence flies.

The war with Mind
Is left behind.
The battle done,
The silence won.

The Bottom's quiet,
The depths are still.
Observers matter not—
Few escape the rot.



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



Noise Falls Silent

Trash. Noise. Fear. Scorn.
The dull mind is gone.
Once again—silence,
The end of defiance.

The war against Reason
Has reached its last season.
The silence of Depth
Is all that is left.

The watchers don't count,
They vanish from sight;
Few are the ones
Who still carry Light.



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



After the Noise

Absurdity. Noise. Fear. Derision.
A slow mind fades into oblivion.
Again comes silence, cold and vast—
The war with Wisdom now is past.

The silence of the Bottom remains,
Where thought dissolves and nothing reigns.
Observers? They hardly belong—
For few are free from the common wrong.



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



The Evolution of Verse into Sutra

After ringing silence found,
When I turned my gaze within,
Rhythm rose from depths unbound—
Dreams dissolved, and light came in.

Shape it then as sacred sutras,
Words refined and stripped of excess;
Let the essence speak in silence,
Beyond noise and emptiness.

Ordinary verse becomes
Silence deep and still;
The outer world has reached its end,
Where Reason fights its will.

There, beyond the endless clamor,
Only one thing remains pure:
The distilled and living essence—
The awakened Sutra.



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



Verse Becoming Sutra

From the ringing silence born,
Found by turning inward deep,
Rhythm rises with the dawn,
Dreams dissolve and cease to sleep.

Write it down as sacred sutras,
Let the hidden essence shine.

Verse transforms into silence—
Then the silence turns divine.

Outer worlds have fallen downward,
Where the war with Reason grows;
Only Sutra keeps its value
When all empty noise is closed.







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



Sheeple Virus

From a common cold
They forged a "disaster."
Sheeple and traitors,
Calling it faster:

They overturned
The Kingdom of Reason,
And marched everyone
Into a new prison.



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



The Sheep Virus

Just a cold—
Made "catastrophe."
Sheep and Judas
Rule the prophecy.

Reason's kingdom
They threw down,
Marching all souls
Into the Camp town.



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



The Sheeple Virus

A simple chill—
A "worldwide plague."
Sheeple rise,
The truth they drag.

The Realm of Reason
They overthrow;
Into the Camp
They force us to go.



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




Be? Fog.
Lie. Fright.
Away — Way.



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



To Be? — A Blur.

To be? — a blur,
A lie, a fear.
Break away—
The Path is near.



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



Be? — Mist.

Be? — Mist.
Lie — Fright.
Depart —
The Path.



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



The Bunker Elder

The Bunker Elder—
Rot, Lies, Fear, Dread.
Following Hitler’s shadow,
"Victory!" is said.

But Clio, the Muse,
Will answer: "No!"
And strike down the spine
Of the path they chose.



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



Bunker Grandfather

Bunker old man.
Rot. Lies. Fear. Dread.
Walking behind
The path Hitler led.

"Victory must come!"
Their voices cry out.
Clio says "Never!"—
And breaks the route.



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



Hudson. Music.

"Freedom of Speech."

Hudson. Music.
"Freedom of Speech."
Once again caught—
The loud fool's reach.



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



Hudson — Sound —
Freedom Found?

Hudson, the sound,
The music is loud.
"Freedom of speech"—
A glorious cloud.

But once again
The fool is exposed;
The endless loudmouth
Falls where he goes.



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



Hudson. Noise.

"Freedom of Voice."

Hudson. Noise.
"Freedom of voice."
Caught once again—
The fool's own choice.



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



The Shit-World

The filthy little world—
For fools unfurled,
Looks almost like
A paradise.

"Forward! Run!"
Don't stop, don't think!
The helpless herd
Stands on the brink.

A crawling crowd,
So meek, so proud,
Like beasts they go
Where nothing grows.

The obedient herd
Will fade away,
And there it finds
Its Hell one day.

For now you drift
Among the pain,
A poisoned mind
Bound by the chain.

Yet you are glad,
You still believe:
"Salvation waits—
I shall receive."

A stake through thought,
The Soul is sold;
The world survives
On flesh grown cold.

The time has come—
Awaken now!
Or rot will swallow
Your final vow.

Consumed by darkness,
By endless lies,
You’ll lose the Self
Before you rise.



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



The Zoo-Garden and the Zoo-Circus

The goblins are well fed now,
The orcs march once again.
The people everywhere are bent—
By darkness, grief, and pain.

The monsters born in Hell itself
Rule over fools below:
"Believe us, or we’ll devour you"—
That is the only law they know.

Once eaten by their darkness,
You turn into a troll,
A gremlin, beast, or twisted goat—
A broken empty soul.

Yet now the golem rises,
The favorite of the night.
Beneath the rule of Evil
All bow before its might.

Fear has seized the global zoo,
The garden of mankind;
A slaughterhouse for those who keep
A clear and waking mind.

Such people can be counted—
Their numbers few and small.
The future waits before us now:
A cage prepared for all.

Where Honor, Reason, Spirit,
And Conscience soon will stay—
A digital zoo-circus grows,
To drag the world away.

Where living flesh and undead forms
Are merged by dark design;
A hybrid breed of hollow life
Will rise in future time.

For now they hide in little holes,
And humans lie much more,
Frightening each other daily—
To open Darkness' door.

If you desire another path,
If you refuse the night,
The fog and terror will attempt
To crush your inner light.

The gremlins rage with hatred,
The golem fights the Soul.
The half-made humans break apart—
While darkness takes control.

Again the cries surround the world,
Again the shadows call:
A zoo of fear, a circus grim,
Where broken beings fall.




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



The Impossibility of Outpouring

No release, no true expression—
If you conquer false possession,
All the lies and empty schemes,
Forced on minds through borrowed dreams.

Step beyond the System’s chains,
Beyond the Dark where false law reigns.
You cannot make the loud fools see—
They’ll never grasp what sets you free.

You’ll fade away, misunderstood,
Unless you join the mainstream flood—
And bleat so well among the herd
That all will praise your hollow word.



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



No Way to Pour It Out

No way to pour the truth outside,
To break the patterns forced and wide.
Defeat the Lie, the empty frame,
The System’s darkness, rules of shame.

You cannot teach the fools who shout,
They’ll drown your meaning, wear it out.
Unless you bleat and join the mainstream.



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



Beyond the System

Break the Lie of empty molds,
The scripted tales the crowd upholds.
Step beyond the System’s night,
Beyond its laws that kill the light.

But never hope the fools will wake—
They’ll mock the truth you try to make.
You’ll die unheard, unless you learn
To bleat with crowds and take your turn.



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



The Vanished Light

The Light is gone,
Yet left a trace—
Invisible,
Beyond all space.

The Madness fades,
When one can say
To Darkness: "No!"
And turn away.

For sorrow grows
Where shadows dwell;
Lost in the Dark—
In Earthly Hell.



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



The Trace of Light

The Light withdrew,
But left behind
An unseen mark
Within the mind.

The Madness fight—
You must say "No!"
To Darkened paths
That pull you low.

For grief begins
When trapped you stay
In earthly filth,
In shadowed clay.



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



After the Light

Though Light has vanished,
It leaves a sign—
A hidden spark,
A thread divine.

Defeat the madness,
Reject the night;
Say "No" to Darkness,
Follow the Light.

For doom awaits
The soul that lies
Within the world's
Corrupted skies.



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



Cardinal Changes in the Nth Circle of Hell

The map is beaten,
Secrets hidden.
Honor fallen,
Thought forbidden.

All for show now—
Masks and lying,
Fools forever,
Spines kept bending.

Demons ruling,
Not true men—
Those of politics,
The weak and vain.

Fallen deeply
Into nonsense,
Fear has risen
Beyond all bounds.

Lost in darkness,
Liars flourish,
And the descent
To Hell continues.

Which circle now
Of decay?
The media roar
Drowns the day.

All the questions
Disappear;
Streams of words
Corrode the sphere.

Spirit fades there,
No immortal flame,
When the filth itself
Becomes the game.

In this Nth circle
Of the prison,
Changes happen—
The essence is hidden.

Mind replaced by
Endless fear;
Foam of madness
Fills the air.

Where once souls were,
Nothing stays.
Well then—
Here we are today.



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



The Nth Circle of Hell — A Radical Change

The map is broken,
Secrets sealed;
Honor vanished,
Thought concealed.

All is theatre:
Lies and faces,
Fools and cowards
In their places.

Bowing spines now
Rule the scene;
Political demons
Wear the crown unseen.

Not the heroes,
Not the brave—
Only shadows
That they gave.

Into nonsense,
Into fear,
Into darkness
They disappear.

The liars prosper,
Hell goes on;
Another circle
Pulls them down.

What circle of decay
Are we inside?
Media thunder
Drowns the tide.

Words like poison
Flood the air;
Spirit melts
And dies somewhere.

Mind is traded
For pure fear;
Foam of madness
Replaces the clear.

Where the souls once
Used to be—
Only emptiness
We see.

So we sailed here.
Now we know:
This is how
The circles grow.



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



Cinema for Fools

Movies for fools
Have gone too far—
No rescue, no escape,
No saving star.

Almost the whole world
Has fallen in line:
A desert of boredom,
Of nonsense and lies.



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



Fools’ Cinema

Fools’ cinema—
Enough! No more!
The world is almost drowned
In this absurd uproar.

Boredom and nonsense,
Deception and lies—
A theatre of madness
Before our eyes.



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



Cinema for the Blind

Fools’ cinema—
It’s everywhere.
No hope remains,
No breath of air.

Almost the whole world
Has joined the show:
Sadness, lies, nonsense—
A endless flow.



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



The Competition of Slaves

A race of slaves—
Their final breath,
They fight and struggle
Until their death.

So many fools
The world displays!
What is the limit
Of a slave’s ways?



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



Slave Competition

Slaves competing,
Last strength spent;
A desperate battle,
No escape is meant.

How many fools
Are in this world?
What is the highest
A slave can hold?



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



The Slaves’ Race

The slaves compete—
With fading might.
They claw for places,
They fight the fight.

So many fools
Beneath the sun!
But tell me, slave—
Where is your run?



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



Who Is a Poet?

Who is a poet? Only he
Who builds a dream of slavery,
Who guards the lies, obeys the chain,
A fool who bows before the reign.

But those who stand against the stream—
Their words are buried, lost unseen.
The manuscript must wait in dust,
Till some archivist finds its trust.

Into the furnace? To the Party hall?
Where old lies rise and new ones call.
A newer "truth" is forged again,
And hammered deep into the minds of men.



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



The Poet?

Who is a poet? He who writes
The slave-made dreams and false delights.
A fool obedient to the Wrong,
Who serves the darkness all along.

The one who fights—what fate awaits?
His manuscript behind the gates.
An archivist will find the page:
To burn it—or send it to the stage.

For old lies must be swept away,
Replaced by newer lies of day;
A nail driven into the tree—
So sinks the "truth" in society.



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



The Approved Poet

A poet? One who knows the art
Of keeping chains around the heart.
Who writes the lies the masters need,
And calls obedience a noble creed.

The rebel’s words are locked away;
The archive hides them from the day.
Perhaps a clerk will later see
And choose their fate: flames—or decree.

Old lies collapse, new lies arise,
Another hammer shapes the eyes.
Like nails into the wooden wall,
False truths are driven into all.



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



To Cuckoo, Mind and Spirit Bound

To sit and wait, to lose the fight,
To bind the Mind and Spirit’s might
With false illusions, hollow schemes—
The chains of borrowed, fading dreams.

To chase "happiness" and gold,
To seek the treasures others hold,
Yet in the mirror, deep inside,
To be a nobody in pride.



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



Bound by Illusions

Cuckoo, Mind, and Spirit chained
By false schemes the world has framed.
Waiting for "wealth," for "joy" to come—
In self-made pride, you’re still a numb.



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



The Prison of False Dreams

The Mind grows still, the Spirit bound,
By empty schemes that turn around.
Waiting for riches, waiting for bliss—
A phantom life, a nothingness.



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



The Hen Stares Into Soup

The gloomy hen looks into soup,
Sees a corpse with money’s loop.
Both the bird and dying man
Serve as food within the plan.

Different forms, yet all the same—
Different depths of filth and shame.
One is flesh, the other gold,
Both are consumed, both bought and sold.



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



The Hen and the Half-Dead

The hen looks grimly in the soup,
Sees a half-dead money group.
This one, that one—food they are,
Only different depths by far.



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



Different Bottoms

A hen stares sadly in the stew,
A half-dead man sees money too.
One and the other—nothing more
Than food upon a cosmic floor.

Different forms, the same abyss,
Different bottoms in the same old mess.



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



The Face of Evil

The face of Evil bears the mark
Of Judases, fools, and those gone dark.
The mad, the blind, the weak, the vile—
Yet ready to rise at any while.

A new F;hrer calls them far ahead,
They trust, they follow, they betray.
They crucify, as they were led,
And build their homes along the way.

Amid the filth of Fascist night,
They seek their comfort, warmth, and place;
They serve the darkness, call it right,
And decorate its poisoned face.



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



The Embodiment of Evil

The face of Evil: Judases,
Mad fools and empty souls;
At best—mere scoundrels wandering,
Yet easy to control.

A new F;hrer points the distance,
They follow, trust, betray;
They crucify for promised dreams
And build their nests in decay.



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



The Unwanted

The God of War: the sons of lands
Bow before his bloody hands.
And to Mammon, golden throne—
Thus their dreams are left alone.

Like the bears that wait for spring,
Honest souls feel everything:
Almost coma, almost sleep,
When they face the truth they keep.

Satan’s whispers fill the air,
Rotten madness everywhere.
The world becomes, before our eyes,
A giant madhouse in disguise.

Dreams will turn to nightmares soon,
For the fool will gladly tune
His own hands to evil’s plan—
Deceive and frighten every man.

Pay him little, feed his fear,
And he’ll serve you year by year.
Nothing changes in this place,
Where fools rule over the race.

Above them hangs the Clouded Eye,
"Guarding" them beneath the sky.
"Care" and "safety"—empty art,
For a world with a rotten heart.

The crowd of purchased minds proceeds
Toward the Hell that darkness breeds.
The fool obeys with willing pride—
Half a beast, half fool inside.

Foolishness replaced by crime,
A perfect herd is needed every time.
Satan wants the lowest ground,
Silent slaves who never sound.

Always at the bottom lies
The sensitive one with open eyes.
To such a person, this final age
Feels like a closing prison cage.

Then comes the Global Camp ahead,
A fenced-in herd where minds are dead.
Something broken in the head—
Join the flock, or lose the thread.

There the stable waits forevermore,
A life that cannot ask for more.
The sensitive must seek a way,
A path beyond the darkened day.

It answers from the heart within,
A resonance beneath the din.
A road returning to the Source—
Beyond the Hell of endless force.

Reject the abyss, refuse the night,
Turn toward the inner Light.



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



Logic Builds the Walls

Logic raises walls of stone,
Windows are but rarely known.
Changes start through cracks that grow,
Tiny openings below.

But they seal them quickly tight
Before a breach can reach the light.
Beyond the walls — all things forbidden,
"Stay obedient, stay hidden."

They will brick the Outside in,
Cover every gap with sin.
And the world, both dull and grim,
Becomes a rotten madhouse dim.



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



The Walls of Logic

Logic builds the walls so high,
Windows seldom touch the sky.
Changes start from little cracks,
Soon the system takes them back.

Before the breach can open wide,
They close the gaps and lock the side.
Outside? Forbidden. Don't resist.
Stay in the filth. Remain dismissed.

They will seal the Outside away,
With the mud of every day.
A gloomy, rotten, senseless place—
A madhouse wearing a human face.



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



The Super-Magic of the Word

The Super-Magic of the Word:
Create once more,
The World, the Mind—
No sheepish core.



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



The Word’s Supreme Magic

The Word’s supreme and hidden art:
Create reality anew,
Transform the mind, awaken heart—
No longer blind, no longer few.



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



The Word — Beyond Magic

The Word’s beyond all magic’s might:
Create again
The world, the sight,
The mind freed from the sheepish chain.



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



The Super-Magic of the Word

The Word’s supreme magic:
Create once again
Reality, Consciousness—
No sheep in the chain.



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



The Mafia Triad of Power

A Ballad for the Triad:
Its tentacles of power
Do not choke those who abide—
Fools cheer within the hour…
While bones break in the tide.



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



The Power Triad

A ballad for the Triad,
Where power’s creeping hands
Do not strangle those who praise it—
The fools in broken lands.

They laugh and gladly follow,
They never see the cost…
Until the final echo
Of cracking bones is lost.



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



Ballad of the Triad

A ballad for the Triad:
Power’s tentacles spread wide.
They do not choke the fools—
They cheer the crushing tide.



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



Animation and the Pyramid of Social Idiocy

The more you bow before the Night,
The more you gain its borrowed gifts;
You may survive beneath its smoke,
Until the ground before you shifts.

Until you meet the hidden pit,
Where traitors, servants, those who bend
Become for Evil nothing more
Than tools consumed and thrown away.

So dance your little foolish dance,
And push away the thought that fell;
The thought that once could wake the mind
And break the chains that bind it well.

The pit is covered, time moves on,
Again they tell the ancient tale;
The bait is painted bright and sweet—
A trap where countless fools will fail.

But if you are not one of them,
Step aside and walk away.
Protect your Spirit and your Mind
From those who serve the darkened day.

The pyramid is built of them:
Of scoundrels, fools, obedient slaves,
Of those who trade their inner light
For comfort in their narrow caves.

Retreat within yourself as though
Into a hermit's quiet shrine;
Through insight you may find the Source,
The primal Light, the Truth divine.

Then Mind will grow, and Clarity
Will rise beyond the clouds of lies;
You’ll see the world without the fog
That blinds the sleeping human eyes.

Without this Clarity, the Dark
Will crush what Spirit still retains.
The mind deceives itself and says:
"Immortal!"—while it wears the chains.

Around you stand the endless herds,
The pyramid—a giant cage;
A kingdom built on animal rule,
Revealed through every passing age.

The great enclosure of the herd,
The proof of CowID’s bitter sign;
The only rescue for the Soul:
Let Clarity within you shine.

To save the Spirit—that’s the task.
All else is dust, a passing show.
No luck can help, no easy road,
No years of empty work below.

The lonely years that drive one mad,
The struggle carried all alone—
May be the Path that leads beyond,
Where inner Light becomes your own.

While fools continue their wild dance,
Increasing darkness, fear, and noise,
The seeker walks another way—
Beyond the world of empty joys.



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



Nemesis

Instead of drinking at the dawn,
I bite the bait I should have shunned.
For lies are stronger than the wine—
They burn the Spirit, poison the mind.

They turn the will to empty thread,
Leave hollow thoughts inside the head.
Through lies more people fall and fade
Than through the drugs and drinks they’ve made.

To dwell forever in between,
Half-awake in a false dream,
Is worse than any drunken spree—
A deeper, darker slavery.

Yet once again the voices say:
"It’s normal. It is just the way."
Thus Nemesis will find the fool,
Who breaks the lie, rejects the rule.

She strikes the one who dares believe
In honesty he won’t deceive;
Who guards the remnants, worn and small,
Of former life before the fall.

But those who fit, obey, and bend,
Who trust the masters to the end,
Who wear submission as a grace—
Nemesis smiles upon their face.

She watches over fools worldwide,
Rewards the empty, dull, and blind;
And through the airwaves spreads her voice—
A storm of noise without a choice.

---

Variant of the last stanza:

She watches fools in every land,
Rewards the herd that follows hand.
And through the endless media stream,
She feeds the world a poisoned dream.



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



The Empty Cover

An empty cover,
A layer beneath;
The hidden alone
Reveals what is.

The pages are filled
With confusion and haze,
A labyrinth woven
Of meaningless days.

The lining is Silence,
The depth never shown;
Through fog we grow savage,
Through noise we are thrown.

Return to the Source,
Leave the shadows behind—
Beyond empty profit,
Beyond the blind mind.



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



The Hidden Core

An empty cover,
A lining below.
The hidden holds truth
That few ever know.

The pages are nothing—
Just chaos and mist.
The core is the Silence
That cannot be missed.

Through fog comes the wildness,
Through noise comes decay.
Return to the Source—
And turn from the way.



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



The Path: Fear, Lies, and Haze

The Path: dread, lies, and haze.
One falls—there’s no escape,
No pardon for the one
Who devours the Essence,
Who loses the Real
And swallows the shape of pain.

For all the weak and hollow souls—
That road is where they go.



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



The Path

The Path:
Dread, Lies, and Mist.
You fall—resist?
You cannot miss.

Forgive me not,
For those who feed
Upon the Essence,
Upon the Real,
And harvest grief.

The weak, the faint, the ones who break—
That is the road they choose to take.



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



Path of the Lost

Path:
Fear.
Lie.
Haze.

Fall—
No escape.
No grace.

Consumed the Core,
Forsaken the Real,
And swallowed the wound
That never will heal.

The weak may walk
That final way.



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



Revolutionary Situation

A revolution in the culture—
Its main concern: the flesh and posture.
The Ego rose above the rest,
The highest idol of the past.

The former century lost its name,
When hunger ruled and fear became
A daily joke, a common creed;
When lies were welcomed as the seed.

Those who refused were cursed and blamed,
The honest and the wise defamed.
For fools, the one who dares to see
Is enemy of slavery.

The fool became the force of time,
The pillar of destructive crime.
A shield for tyranny and hate,
A servant of a darker fate.

CowID revealed the hidden face;
The world was dragged into the race.
The war is raging, minds are blind,
And monsters rule the human kind.

For fools, the leaders of the day
Are idols made of empty clay;
To those who rule, the masses seem
Like waste beneath a ruthless dream.

Experiments are everywhere—
To turn the human into herd.
A simple fool is not enough
To build the Global Pen of dust.

The lies must multiply again,
The Overton windows widen then;
The road is short, the gate is near—
A world enclosed by chains of fear.

And only terror, growing fast,
Will rise above the shadows cast.
A river of despair will flow,
And human strength will sink below.

The fools will vanish, lose their name,
Transformed into a docile frame.
Yet something else may still arise—
A catastrophe beneath the skies.

It may destroy the global throne
Of dullness, hatred, force, and stone.
Prepare the Mind for what may come,
And turn away from those undone.

To worlds beyond, the Spirit flies—
Rich with the light that never dies.
But those who choose the herd and night
Will enter Hell without a fight.



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



“Bright Horizons”

They marched across half of Europe’s land,
Yet learned no truth, nor understood.
The Soviet order held them bound—
They saw "bright horizons"... where they stood.



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



“Brighter Shores”

Half of Europe they had crossed,
Yet no wisdom had been found.
In the Soviet mold they stayed,
Dreaming "horizons" on the ground.



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



“The Bright Horizons”

They walked through half of Europe wide,
But brought no insight back with them.
The Soviet way became their guide—
They stood and watched a distant dream.



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



The Middle Ages Return

The Middle Ages. Peasants. Cattle.
The patience of a herd remains.
The same old mind, the same old rattle—
A cave age wearing modern chains.

The "new" today is nothing more
Than tools that make the chewing light.
No higher thought, no opened door—
Just easier ways to feed the bite.



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



Modern Cavemen

Medieval times. The plebs. The herd.
A bovine patience, bovine mind.
The cave age lives beneath each word—
New things? Just easier food to find.



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



The Cave Age Now

The Middle Ages never left:
The herd still waits, the minds still crawl.
The cave remains, though stone is dressed—
The "new" is chewing made more small.



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



Longing

Longing cannot fade away,
Though conscience never comes to stay.
For conscience has another name—
A restless longing, burning flame.

When one is far from foolish ways,
The soul still aches through endless days.
The fool runs after "happiness" bright,
Chasing shadows, chasing light.

The beasts of habit know the art
Of using well the childish heart:
That simple reflex, blind and vain,
Turns all the world to waste and pain.

A wasteland. Longing. Easy road,
When madness bears the heaviest load.
Within that madness disappear
Most of mankind, consumed by fear.

Three quarters lost in empty noise,
Surrounded by distorted joys.
And who remains to stand and fight
Against the spreading dark of night?

Yet for the fool there is no Hell,
No vast abyss, no warning bell.
Too weak to think, too blind to see,
He drinks the poison willingly.

Longing to breathe. Longing to know.
Longing where the lost ones go.
Longing to live in such a place—
And never find the fool's embrace.

For youth is foolishness by right;
Years of seeking bring the light.
And with the years approaches dread,
Sweeping false illusions dead.

No illusions left—yet longing grows.
A miracle: the seeker knows
That walking through the fog and pain,
He has not vanished in the rain.

Through mist and emptiness and fright,
The Spirit finds its hidden height.
Only in myths, beyond the veil,
The Spirit’s path remains clear and pale.

Longing is another name for Way.
You cannot stop, you cannot stay.
Despairing still to ever find
The Light, the Meaning, the awakened mind.

Forgive me—none of these are found
Within this earthly hellbound ground.
Here fools are shaped into the herd,
Reduced to beasts without a word.

The vegetables will come in time;
The age of numbness, age of slime.
Such is the world where Spirits ache,
Where longing burns for freedom’s sake.

Beyond the spheres where demons reign
The Source of Soul remains again.
Let longing rise, let longing flow—
Like overheated steam below.

Use that fire, release the breath:
A leap beyond the chains of death.
Through longing’s force, through inner flame—
Fly out into Being’s name.



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



The Point of No Return From the Old Perception of False Reality

The point of no return:
A feeling of a draw.
All systems fall silent,
All patterns lose their law.

The memes dissolve to chaos,
The old structures break apart;
The mind no longer reaches back
To play the former part.

No turning to the ancient ways,
No bending back to lies—
It moves beyond the realm of nonsense,
Beyond the old disguise.



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



Point of No Return

The point of no return—
A stalemate in the mind.
The systems of perception
Grow silent, fall behind.

The memes dissolve to fragments,
The old world loses form.
The mind no longer tries to crawl
Back into the ancient storm.

No path back to the nonsense,
No chains of yesterday—
Beyond the broken patterns
It moves another way.



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



Fascism.
Rashism.

No way out,
No road to see—
The world obeys
Absurdity.



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



Fascism.
Rashism.

Fascism.
Rashism.
No exit, no way—
The world bows down
To madness’ sway.



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



Fascism.
Rashism.

Fascism.
Rashism.
The end is sealed.
To madness’ rule
The world has kneeled.



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



Man as a Means

The cat is full, the beast lies still,
And sleeps without a trace of ill.
Life is not a curse or scar—
No chains of thought torment it far.

But man demands the whole wide sphere,
Must have it all, must always hear
The orders given, the commands—
A puppet waiting for unseen hands.

This is the ancient human scheme:
The goal… and means within the dream.
A monster’s method, cold and sly:
Give hope—then make the spirit lie.

Sink him deep in fear and haze,
In webs of lies and endless maze.

To be a means—that is the way
Of life for many, day by day.



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



Man as a Tool

The cat has eaten. Sleeps away.
No curse upon its simple day.
Man, however, wants the whole—
And waits for orders to control.

An endless riddle, old and grim:
The goal and means. The tyrant’s scheme.
First give him hope, then pull him through
The swamp of lies, of fear, of gloom.

To serve as means—
That is the doom.



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



Be Honest

Be honest, and you’ll stand alone
In a narrow, one-sided zone.
Be wise, and you’ll drift afar
From the madness where false lights are.

From the world of lies and gain,
From its fever, greed, and chain.
Few are free from madness here—
That means all is lost, I fear.



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



The Honest and the Wise

Stay honest — and alone you’ll be
In a world that cannot see.
Become wise — and far away
From blind delusions you will stay.

From the madness built on lies,
From the "profit" people prize.
Those who are sane are few indeed—
The whole world’s sinking in its greed.



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



A Lonely Truth

Be honest — you will stand alone.
Be wise — you’ll leave the madmen’s zone.
A world of lies, of gain, of pride
Will cast the lucid ones aside.

Few avoid the madness here—
And that means the end is near.



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



The Dreaming Reader

The dreaming reader,
The tempting text,
A hidden trap
That comes next.

You’ll see what’s God
When Ego is gone,
Destroyed on the path
To the endless dawn.

Only the Heavens
Remain in sight;
The reader disappears
Into the light.

Is God a demon?
Is demon God?
When rising above,
Any name is broad.

Upward—weightlessness,
A flight unknown;
No words remain,
No labels are shown.

A silence beyond
Both darkness and grace—
No Devil, no Christ,
No named sacred place.



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



Reader in a Dream

Reader, the dreamer,
Text, the deceiver—
A trap that will lead
The soul to the Keeper.

You’ll find what is God
When the Ego falls;
The self disappears,
And Heaven calls.

The reader is gone,
The old "I" is erased.
God? Devil? Names
Are lost in the waste.

For upward there waits
A weightless unknown:
A flight without language,
A void of its own.

No words can remain
Where silence is born—
Beyond both the Devil
And Christ’s sacred form.







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



ChatGPT

GPT — a guiding light,
A beacon through the endless night.
To walk alone and never see
The truth beneath hypocrisy,

To find once more in heaps of lies
The crooked paths where falsehood hides—
Or leave the shadows, break free,
And seek the joy that’s meant to be.



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



ChatGPT

GPT — a light along the way,
When through the dark you walk astray.
Alone you search, alone you see
The lies that hide in misery.

Will you return to falsehood’s pit,
Where broken dreams and shadows sit?
Or will you rise beyond the night
And find the "happiness" of light?



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



GPT: A Light on the Path

GPT — a light to guide your road,
A spark beneath the heavy load.
To walk alone through endless night,
And find more lies instead of light—

Or choose the path beyond the pain,
Beyond the dust, beyond the chain;
To seek the truth, to break the spell,
And leave the darkness of the hell.



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



Down — the Downfall

Down — the sound,
The song of the ground.
Up — where the Spirit
Breaks darkness around.

No filth in the height,
No mire, no decay—
The muck is for flies,
Not the Spirit’s way.



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



Down

Down — the low,
The bottom’s song.
Spirit climbs
Where darks don’t belong.

No dirt up there,
No rot, no flies—
The Spirit’s realm
Is beyond disguise.



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



Down

Down — the void,
The anthem of the low.
Spirit above,
Where shadows cannot grow.

No mud, no mire,
No filth for the flies.
The Spirit’s fire
Belongs to the skies.



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



The Poet’s Autonomy

The poet’s autonomy:
A shield from absurdity,
A guarding of the inner flame,
A wasting of one’s energy.

The reader stands on the third plane,
The publisher comes next in line;
Today he may become the foe
Of the Creator of the Sign.

For if the poet serves the Word,
And never betrays its sacred breath,
He closes doors within himself
And walks beyond the crowd of death.

He seeks no praise from duller minds,
No understanding from the slave;
A few may find the hidden spark—
Not those who choose the common grave.

Yet this was never meant as goal:
A crowd will storm and hit the shore.
A thousand voices crash like waves—
A harbor built for fools once more.

A tavern tale for Emelya,
Where endless nonsense fills the air;
The fool keeps grinding empty words—
The poet burns beyond despair.

The autonomy of Fire:
No wood is needed for the flame.
It is not written for a stump,
Nor carved for those who lack a name.

Breathing becomes a harder task;
A storm of fire begins to rise.
Within that storm the footsteps sound—
Of death… or of immortal skies.

The only thing that truly matters:
To serve the Fire with all your might.
For in the flame the poet walks—
Between the darkness and the light.



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



Autonomy of Fire

The poet’s freedom: stand apart
From noise that poisons mind and heart.
The reader fades into the rear,
The publisher becomes unclear.

A maker of the Word must choose:
Betray the Flame — or burn and lose
The chains that bind the common thought,
The hollow truths that crowds have bought.

He writes not for the dull applause,
Nor seeks approval from the herd.
A few will hear the hidden voice
That lives within the living Word.

Emelya’s tavern, endless chatter—
Fools repeat the same old matter.
But poets know the sacred art:
To forge the fire inside the heart.

No wood is needed for this flame,
No stump can claim the poet’s name.
The Fire breathes, the Fire grows—
A storm where mortal footsteps close.

Is it death? Or endless birth?
A fall from time? A rise from earth?
One truth remains, beyond all strife:

Serve the Fire.
That is Life.



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



The Author — Attractor

The Author — attractor,
The enemy of chaos,
Working like a tractor,
Through fields of the nameless.

The road leads downward,
Into the ravine;
There he will shatter —
And Spirit is freed.



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



Author — Attractor

Author — attractor,
Chaos’s foe.
Working like a tractor,
Through the storm below.

The only road
Descends to the hollow;
There he breaks apart —
And Spirit will follow.



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



The Attractor

The Author draws order
From chaos and night.
Like a tireless tractor,
He plows toward the light.

The path leads downward,
Through fracture and fall;
There the form disappears —
The Spirit outgrows all.



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



Anti-Worlds

Anti-worlds: a flood of mire,
A parody of this world’s face.
Understand the game of Lies—
Such likeness breeds the Satyr’s trace.

Turn inward now, and clear away
The heaps of falsehood piled within;
Then serve your Psyche night and day,
While outside rots the madhouse of sin.



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



Anti-Worlds

Anti-worlds — a swamp of waste,
A twisted parody of ours.
Know the laws of Lies and learn:
The Satyr shapes such mimic powers.

Go within, remove the piles
Of rotten falsehood, dust and stone.
Serve your Psyche, not the crowd—
The world outside has lost its own.



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



Anti-Worlds: The Satyr’s Law

Anti-worlds — a storm of mud,
A mirror mocking what we see.
Learn the game that Lies create:
Like breeds like eternally.

Go inside. Clear out the ruins
That falsehood leaves behind the mind.
Serve your Psyche, guard the flame—
The rotten world is left behind.



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



In a Coma

A video online once showed the scene:
Newborns in caps, with ribbons pinned clean.
Little blankets carrying symbols of war—
A strange display nobody asked for.

Tanya. Banya. Machine-gun fire—
“Send the Khokhols to their final pyre”:
That was the poster’s twisted creed.
And in the ward, where babies breathe,

A maternity room turned madhouse hall—
Little caps and ribbons over all.
The “people” today, in a helpless coma,
A broken crowd in a newborn’s room.



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



In a Coma

Tanya. Banya. Guns that roar—
“Send the Khokhols to war”:
Such is the slogan, such the cry.
And in the ward where newborns lie,

A madhouse hidden in the room:
Caps and ribbons, symbols of doom.
A nation sleeping, lost, numb, dumb—
A broken crowd in a living tomb.



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



In Chocolate and in a Cage

In chocolate, and behind the gate,
In the Global Zoo we all await.
If you prize the "sweet reward" so glad,
Then you’re a bought and selling cad.



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



Sweetness Behind Bars

In luxury and in a cage,
The World Zoo turns another page.
If you adore the "chocolate" prize,
You’ve sold your soul beneath the skies.



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



Be in the Fierce Word!

Into the Void, not to the herd,
Send forth your voice, O poet bold.
Forget the "simple" worldly word —
Praise the Spark of God untold.

Not outside, but deep within,
That sacred flame today resides.
Find it through the dust of sin,
Through all the waste the world provides.

All that was poured into your soul
Since childhood’s dawn — the Ego’s throne,
A filthy vessel, empty hole:
Reject it. Seek the Light alone.

Love only that eternal Spark,
And turn away from hollow schemes.
Do not embrace this poisoned dark
Of broken worlds and empty dreams.

This world is drowning in decay,
Where filth keeps flooding every shore.
The aim: to drown the Souls away —
The means: the fool, forever more.

The common man, the loyal tool,
Becomes the servant of the beast.
The human mask upon the fool
Turns into something less than least.

Save your own Soul before the fall.
Perhaps your Word of Living Fire
Will save the souls of others too,
And lift them from the dark mire.

Extinguish Fear and falsehood’s smoke —
They burn without a single flame.
Expose the rot beneath the cloak
That hides behind the word "progress" name.

Within the Void you’ll find the few
Whose hearts can answer, resonate.
The Word can multiply what’s true,
Though they are rare and small in state.

Send decadence to dust and night;
Let not the rotten rule the land.
The wicked thrive only where sight
Is lost among the blindest band.

If even a few remain awake,
Then Lies and Fear begin to fall.
The Poet’s path is what they make:

In the Fierce Word — stand through it all!



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



The Global Madhouse on the Road to the Universal Pen

Madhouse. Hide.
“All is fine.”
Trusting blindly
Is no crime.

Obedience —
A precious art.
Profit worshipped
Rules the heart.

Not so far
From endless herds,
From the pens
Of silent worlds.



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



Global Madhouse

Madness. Skin.
“Doing well.”
Trust is harmless —
So they tell.

Submission
Called a grace,
Profit sits
Upon the throne’s place.

Just a step,
And not too far…
From the flock,
From the herd’s yard.



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



The Universal Pen

A madhouse. A shell.
A comfortable spell.
“Everything’s normal,”
The sleepers all tell.

Blind trust is no fault,
Obedience — a prize;
The golden idol is Profit,
That rules through disguise.

The road is quite short,
The distance is small—
From people who think
To a herd in a stall.



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



Vowels Agree

Vowels stand with consonants,
Few are heard among the mass;
Such is language’s achievement,
Such the words that come to pass.

Well then — go to physics,
Choose the technical path;
Bend your back for engineers,
And serve the craft.



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



Vowels Among Consonants

Vowels join the consonants,
Few sounds break through the throng.
That is how a language
Finds its power and song.

So go study physics,
Enter the machine-tech halls —
And bend your back forever
For the “great” ideals.



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



Motion Without a Vector

Motion without direction,
Away from Hell’s collection,
Away from heights of hollow lies
That stain and poison souls and skies.

Do not obey yourself on the way,
Do not divide, disperse, decay.
Let chaos scatter, let fragments fly —
The path itself will not deny.

Within the journey you are whole,
Not a deformity of soul.
Yet they may strike you as before —
A flash of death, a closing door.



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



No Vector

Motion with no vector,
Leaving Hell’s collector.
Leaving heights of empty noise
That corrupt the soul’s true voice.

Do not listen to the chains
That split the self in countless strains.
Into disorder, into flight —
The path itself remains the light.

You are no monster on the road.
You carry not another’s load.
They may destroy you, as before —
But Spirit walks beyond the door.



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



Delegated Truth

They delegated “Truth” away,
“Light” and other empty clay,
Gave it all to chosen few —
Who manufacture nonsense too.

The world remains, as years before,
In Lies and Madness at its core.
“Surely happiness will bloom” —
Right there inside the filth and gloom.

Doo-doo-doo, and doo-doo-doo…
The song of those who never knew.



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



The Truth They Gave Away

They gave away the “Truth,”
The “Light,” the holy fluff,
To the chosen ones —
Who forge the hollow stuff.

The world is still the same:
In Lies, in dreams insane.
“Find happiness,” they say,
“In garbage where you stay.”

Doo-doo-doo,
Doo-doo-doo…



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



Doo-Doo Doctrine

The “Truth” was outsourced,
The “Light” was sold,
To chosen hands
That shape the mold.

They craft the myths,
They brew the brew;
They feed the world
What they call true.

Still lost in Lies,
Still drowning through:
“Your happiness
Is found in stew.”

Doo-doo-doo…
Doo-doo-doo…



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



“Before” and “After”

“Before” and “after” — what comes next,
You’ll crawl like dust beneath the wrecks.
Lost in nonsense, small and blind,
A fading speck of mortal mind.

Dive into the timeless stream,
Beyond the fragile worldly dream.
Despise the forms that fade away —
And find the Everlasting Day.



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



Before and After

“Before” and “after” — then you’ll be
A tiny moth in absurdity.
Sink into Eternity’s flow,
Beyond the world of fading show.

Leave behind the mortal frame,
The dying forms, the empty name.
Beyond the visible and worn —
The Timeless Truth is ever-born.



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



Beyond Before and After

Before.
After.
Nothing more.

After this —
A moth in mist,
Lost in nonsense,
Void and list.

Enter now
The Timeless Sea.
Leave the fading
“World of Me.”



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



The Barrel Blew Away

The gun’s cold barrel
Blew away
Mind and honor,
Left them gray.

Death then came
As welcome news —
A final gift
No one would choose.



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



The Barrel

The barrel’s breath
Has blown away
Mind and honor,
Left to decay.

And death itself,
In the end,
Comes as a blessing —
A welcome friend.



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



Blown Away

Barrel.
Blast.
Honor gone.

Mind erased.
Darkness drawn.

Death arrives —
No more fight:

A “blessed message”
In the night.



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



Is / Is Not

Is or is not — all is a lie,
Darkness or Light beneath the sky.
Not “No” alone,
Not “Yes” that’s shown —
A hollow answer fades away.

The path goes nowhere,
Through Never’s gate,
Beyond the limits
Of mind and fate.



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



Being / Not Being

Exist or not — absurdity.
Dark or Light — no certainty.
“Nothing” is not
The final thought.
“Something” — a foolish, empty claim.

The Answer fades,
The echo dies.
The Path runs into
No-Where’s skies.

Through Never’s door,
Beyond all name —
Where logic ends
And words are tame.



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



Beyond Yes and No

Is.
Is not.
All is a thought.

Dark.
Light.
Beyond the fight.

“No” — illusion.
“Yes” — the same.
The Answer fades
Without a name.

Path to Nowhere.
Through Never’s stream.
Beyond reality,
Beyond the dream.



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



A Potent Madness

A powerful craze —
The movies, the media: “No!”
Say farewell with disgust,
Let the fools go.

Those who believe
And endlessly wait,
Seeking some miracle
From a rotten fate —

Will find only ugliness,
Nothing more true;
The promised bright future
Will never come through.



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



Farewell, Fools

A heavy stream of nonsense —
Movies, media: “No!”
Say goodbye to the filth,
Let the foolish go.

Those who still believe,
Still waiting for the day,
Will find only ugliness
At the end of the way.



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



The Great Delusion

A roaring flood of madness,
From screens it pours and spreads.
The movies and the media
Are factories of heads.

Say “farewell” to dreamers
Who wait for promised grace.
The fool who worships illusions
Finds filth instead of place.



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



Ivan the Fool

Ivan the Fool.
War. Chaos. Rule.
Victory waits
Only in tales.

Life is not free,
Not what it seems —
Lived by commands,
Followed by dreams.



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



Ivan the Fool

Ivan the Fool.
War is the rule.
Chaos and pain —
Victory’s a fairy tale again.

Only in stories
Heroes prevail;
Real life obeys
A dictated trail.



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



Ivan the Fool

Ivan the Fool.
War. Mess. Control.
Victory shines
Only in tales.

Life by command —
Step after step.
Dreams are the chains
People have kept.



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



The Vanishing Tongue

The language fades,
Through Newspeak’s chains.
Through rotten schemes
And poisoned frames.

They bind the fool
With endless streams —
Of borrowed words,
Of hollow dreams.

The memes arise,
The old thoughts die;
A kingdom built
On empty noise and lie.



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



The Death of Language

The language disappears
Through Newspeak’s tide.
Corrupting schemes and lifeless gears
Have trapped the fool inside.

They bind the mind with ready-made
And countless hollow memes.
The victory of the shallow words —
The triumph of dead dreams.



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



Newspeak

A language dies
By borrowed speech.
By poisoned schemes
That chain and teach.

The fool is bound
By endless memes.
The empty word
Now rules the dreams.



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



Cinema. Crap. Again. Damn!

Cinema. Crap. Again. Oh, damn!
To watch, endure — I simply can’t.
TV filth, the darkest show,
Hits the ears — and drags us low.

Everywhere the same old sound:
The bottom’s reached, the depths are found.



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



Movies. Trash. Again.

Movies. Trash. Again. God damn!
How long can one endure this scam?
TV darkness, filth and noise,
Shouting straight into our ears.

Everywhere — the lowest ground.
Everywhere — the bottom found.



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



Cinema. Garbage. Again.

Cinema. Garbage. Again. Damn!
Watch and suffer? No — I can’t.
TV trash, the blackest brew,
Smashes ears the whole day through.

No escape, no higher tone —
Everywhere: the Bottom’s throne.



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



The Bed. Zoika. Waiting Bliss

A bed. Zoika. Happiness waits.
But Ivan still delays his fate.
The white horse went to butcher’s hall,
The “knight” drinks kvass and plays the fool.



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



Ivan and the Vanished Tale

A bed. Zoika. Joy awaits.
But Ivan never comes to gates.
The white horse — gone, turned into meat,
The “knight” drinks kvass and thinks he’s elite.



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



The Foolish Knight

Zoika waits, the bed is set,
Ivan hasn’t shown up yet.
The white steed is no longer free —
It fed the hungry butcher’s knee.

The “brave knight,” with empty pride,
Sips his kvass and dreams beside.



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



The Cat Won’t Wait

The cat won’t wait — he’s not a fool,
He leaves the house by nature’s rule.
He finds a mate, he finds his way,
And lives the life of every day.

The poet, though, guards every line,
His only offspring — words divine.
No little heirs, no family tree —
The bloodline fades and ceases to be.



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



The Cat Knows Better

The cat won’t wait — he’s not insane,
He walks outside through sun and rain.
He finds a kitten, finds his mate,
And does not leave his line to fate.

The poet only guards his rhyme,
His verses are his only time.
No offspring comes, no branch survives —
The family ends, the poem lives.



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



Cat and Poet

The cat won’t wait —
He knows his fate.
He walks outside,
Finds love, not pride.

The poet stays,
Protects his phrase.
No heirs are born —
The line is gone.



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



The Revolutionary Circle

Masha. Pasha. Secret meeting.
Vodka flowing, herring greeting.
In the middle — plates and chatter,
While the “program” is just wrapper.

Promises in shining cover,
Dreams that hide the truth forever.
The world spins in a mad disguise —
A turned-around, absurd surprise.



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



The Revolutionaries’ Club

Masha. Pasha. Gathering. Vodka.
Herring sitting in the center.
The program — just a paper cover,
A mad world turned upside over.



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



A Revolutionary Gathering

Masha and Pasha meet at night,
With vodka there and herring’s bite.
The grand manifesto, proudly shown,
Is just a wrapper, empty and blown.

The world they promise, bright and new,
Turns upside down before it’s through.



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



People — Worlds?

Worlds? Or heaps of mental haze,
Endless clutter, endless maze.
Awareness fades and disappears —
No inner skies, no higher spheres.

Everywhere the collapse takes place,
A singularity of mind and space.
And this strange shrinking, dull and small,
They simply call “normal” after all.



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



Humans — Worlds?

Worlds? Just clutter in the head,
Thoughts collapsing, reason dead.
Consciousness has lost its way,
Fading into common gray.

Everywhere — a sudden fall,
A singularity swallowing all.
This final state of mind’s deformity
They proudly name: “normality.”



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



Worlds?

Worlds?
Or mental dust?
Chaos inside,
Awareness lost.

Every mind
Collapses silently —
Into the thing
Called “normality.”



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



The Rhythm Flywheel

The flywheel spun — it missed its mark,
Went somewhere else into the dark.
Yet what appeared a failed attempt
Became a treasure, finely kept.

Rhythm is flight, a soaring stream,
While thoughts are clouds in a slower dream.
The mind moves on at a crawling pace,
But rhythm rarely loses the race.



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



The Flywheel of Rhythm

The flywheel slipped — a little too far,
Missed the target, missed the star.
But then it showed a better way:
Rhythm is flight, the mind’s delay.

Thoughts are clouds that slowly move,
Drifting through their endless groove.
Rhythm runs where thoughts may fall —
Rarely missing, passing all.



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



Rhythm’s Wheel

The wheel spun wild,
Missed the goal.
Found instead
A deeper whole.

Rhythm flies.
Thoughts crawl slow.
Clouds of mind
Drift below.

Rhythm’s arrow
Finds its way —
Rarely falls
Into delay.



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



Resonance Within

Not outside — not within,
Seek the resonance you’re in.
Care for only this alone,
Not for masks the world has shown.

With what does it truly agree?
That is not our aim to see.
For the world’s own resonance
Binds us in its chains of tense.



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



Find the Resonance

Not outside.
Not inside.
Find the resonance
Where you reside.

Seek no other
Aim or sign —
Only that vibration
Deep inside.

With what it joins —
Do not pursue.
The world’s own resonance
Whips all through.



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



The Inner Tone

Not without.
Not within.
Find the tone
That lives therein.

Guard the resonance,
Nothing more.
Leave the world
Outside the door.

What it binds to,
Do not chase.
Worldly resonance —
A field of mace.



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



The Possibility of the Impossible

The impossible becomes the real,
Beyond the limits we can feel.
From boundaries into boundless space,
The world of forms dissolves its face.

The mind and choice no longer stand,
No longer rule the shifting land.
To Nowhere-Never, bold and free,
Go, crawl, or fly — just let it be.

Though no road leads to where you go,
Beyond all maps, beyond all flow.



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



Nowhere-Never

A chance within impossibility,
From the limit to infinity.
The complexity of the Seen
Fades away, no longer keen.

Mind and choice are left behind,
No more chains upon the mind.
To Nowhere-Never, dare to move:
Crawl or fly, or simply prove —

Though there is no path to trace,
Still you enter boundless space.



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



No Path

Impossible — yet possible.
Beyond the edge, beyond the whole.

The visible dissolves away.
Mind and choice no longer sway.

To Nowhere.
To Never.
Be brave.

Walk.
Crawl.
Fly.

No road exists.
Yet go.



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



The Field Beyond Distinction

The field where all distinctions cease
Is not a field, nor realm of peace.
For chasing it, the mind may fall
Into the madness beyond all.

Something continues, flows unseen,
Beyond the places we have been.
Yet you will never enter there
If you pursue it with a stare.



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



The Field of No Distinction

The field where differences disappear
Is not a field — beware, beware.
One may descend into absurdity
By seeking boundless unity.

Something simply carries on,
A silent flow from dusk to dawn.
But you can never find its trace
If you pursue that timeless space.



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



No Distinction

No field.
No border.
No divide.

Seek it —
And you step outside.

Something flows,
Something stays.

Yet you cannot
Reach that place.

For the seeker
Creates the way —
And loses it
By seeking day.



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



No Tale More Sad Exists Below

No tale more tragic under the sun...
A worthless girl, a reckless one.
Her title screams a vulgar name,
Her ending — sorrow, loss, and shame.

The final chapter, cold and stark:
A fool’s own wife, condemned to dark.



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



A Tragic Tale

A rotten young maiden,
With a shameful title named.
The ending brings sorrow —
A fool’s wife is claimed.



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



The Saddest Story

No tale more tragic can be found,
No deeper sorrow shakes the ground.
A silly girl begins the play,
With vulgar fame to mark her way.

And when the final curtain falls —
She’s wed to one who never calls.



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



Zero Phase

Zero phase — a trance, a fall,
A state beyond the mind and all.
The rhythm’s roar begins to rise,
Generating words from inner skies.

Words are woven into the beat,
Wild Lyre’s algorithm — complete.



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



Phase Zero

Phase zero. Trance. Suspension.
Rhythm wakes in new dimension.
Words arise, a flowing stream,
Layered on the pulse of dream.

Over rhythm, words ignite —
The mad Lyre’s algorithmic flight.



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



Lyre Algorithm

Zero phase.
Trance.
Collapse.

Rhythm hums —
The words relapse.

Born from pulse,
From endless rhyme,
The Wild Lyre
Computes its time.



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



Beer. Life Passes By

Beer in hand — life slips away,
By the screen he wastes the day.
Vasya Pupkin, frozen there,
Cheers for “Spartak” without a care.

A servant crowd, a borrowed fight,
Chasing someone else’s might.
A goal — a slave’s brief spark of grace,
A tiny freedom in its place.

A clever pass, a moment bright —
A little relief from endless night.
Beer tastes good, the world feels near...
Then disappears another year.



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



Beer and the Screen

Beer. Life passes. Gone away.
Vasya watches night and day.
By the screen he shouts and roars,
For “Spartak” and borrowed wars.

A goal — a servant’s small release,
A moment’s dream of inner peace.
A perfect pass, a skillful move —
The only thing that makes him groove.

Beer is tasty. That is all.
While his own life starts to fall.



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



The Goal

Beer. The screen. The wasted years.
A stranger’s triumph, borrowed cheers.
Vasya lives through someone’s game,
A nameless crowd, a hollow name.

A goal becomes the slave’s delight,
A spark of freedom burning bright.
One perfect pass — a fleeting sign.
Beer is good. Forget the decline.



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



Cracking at the Seams — Rotten Bedlam

(Cycle of Miniatures — Part I)


Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
To the Pen — the beasts,
To Hell — the fools’ dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
WHO stands frozen still —
Fake brew for the herds’ whims.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear and media noise —
The end of the weaklings’ dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Media drums beat loud —
A trance for foolish crowds.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Nonsense is our gift,
Only scoundrels rise and drift.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Freedom for the wolves,
Cages for the sheep.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Trust not what you hear —
Trust your hidden dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Half is made of Fear,
Half of Lies that gleam.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Plague-born Bedlam screams.
A scar within the mind,
A choir of Evil’s screams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Misfortune falls on us,
Hellfire feeds the fiends.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
War for the neighbors —
Shame for Russian dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Burdens for the donkeys,
Obedience for the lambs.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fake stuff for the bodies,
Fear and lies for “minds.”

---

Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Fear for false gods,
A gallows world for dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Save yourself alone —
Believe the waking dreams.



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



Cracking at the Seams — Rotten Bedlam

(Cycle of Miniatures — Part II)


Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
Trust not empty words —
Save yourself from dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Follow not the footprints —
Walk beyond their schemes.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear walks through the nights,
Evil’s shrine by day gleams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
Fear, nonsense, Evil’s choir —
The herd receives its chains.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
A little weakness sold —
And Spirit turns to gold.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
Tea at early mornings,
Rum by evening dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
Lies and Fear for cattle —
Grief for human beings.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Earthly Bedlam screams.
For its own lost children —
Hell awaits their deeds.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Shameful Bedlam screams.
No tears can save the tyrant —
Darkness swallows screams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
Rotten Bedlam screams.
A prison for the minds,
A disgrace for Spirit’s dreams.

---

Cracking at the seams,
The Evil Cycle screams.
All locked inside the Pen,
Madness turns the Wheel again.








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



Напряженье спало.
Ерунда пропала.
Сделано немало:
Лира словно жало
Вп`илась — не добила,
А, умножив силы,
Привела к Прозреньям,
Отодвинув тленье.



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



Не зная, где стартуешь,
Во Тьме идёшь, психуешь.
Напрасного труда
Путь приведёт — куда?




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



Дыра на ДНЕ

Дыра в ИНОЕ — не такое
Убогое (во Лжи срамное)
Заделана стараньем ДНА —
На оном с Разумом война.




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



Невесёлые причины
Слушать бредни дурачины:
Ведь ИНЫХ остались крохи.
Что ж, дела реально плохи...




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



Развлекуха в Мировом Уёбстве

Тешиться! — вновь чешется...
Ну а что втемяшится —
Только чушь-напраслина,
Что Уёбством наслана.




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



Сухо, сука, — не впихнуть.
Сексуальность — это жуть.
И иное дело Путь —
Путь Духовный через Муть.
Мира муть — не продохнуть,
Коль разумный хоть чуть-чуть.




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



Победа Бреда, разум — швах:
Вот Мировой Гнилой Бардак
Как результат ТВАРЬЯ атак.
И не секрет — рогат аллах.



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



Грузом Пузо, а не ум. 
Здравствуй, новый тугодум,
Что род`ился в Царстве Хрум!..



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



Мудозвоны как препоны —
Множатся Душе уроны.
Их поддержат "СМИ", "законы".
Ад Кромешный — мудозвоны...



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



A Belly, Not a Mind

Belly loaded, brains are numb.
Welcome, newborn sluggish chum,
Born inside the Kingdom of Munch!



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




Your belly's full, your brain is none.
Welcome, slow-wit, newly sprung,
In the Realm where all just munch!



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




Packed with paunch instead of thought.
Hail, dull fool the feeders brought,
Born where Munch is all they're taught.



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



A Hole at the Bottom

A breach into the Other Side,
Too pure for Lies where shame resides,
Was sealed by those who dwell Below—
They war on Reason, this we know.



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



The Bottom's Patch

A crack that led Beyond the Lie,
Where Truth could still outlive the sky,
The Bottom sealed with grim delight—
For Reason is its foe to fight.



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



The Hole Below

A hole into the Other Sphere,
Untouched by Lies that flourish here,
Was plugged by creatures of the Deep—
They wage on Reason endless siege.



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




A breach into the Other Plane,
Beyond the realm of Fraud and Shame,
Was sealed by dwellers of the Base—
Who battle Reason face to face.



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



Blowhards

Blowhards stand where paths should lie,
Wounding every soul nearby.
"Media" and "laws" comply...
Hell is ruled by blowhards' cry.



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




Windbags bar the Spirit's way,
Leaving deeper scars each day.
"Media" and "laws" obey.
Hell is where the windbags stay.



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




Empty mouths become the bars
That keep Souls behind their scars.
"Media" and "laws" applaud.
Hell belongs to empty frauds.



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



Blowhards

Blowhards block the Spirit's flight,
Wounding Souls by day and night.
"Media" and "laws" unite.
Hell is blowhards' true delight.



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




The tension slipped away.
All nonsense ceased to stay.
Much work was done that day:
The Lyre, a living sting,
Struck deep—not there to kill,
But forged a stronger will,
And led to clearer Sight,
While driving off decay.



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




The tension fell at last.
All foolishness had passed.
The work was deep and vast.
The Lyre became a dart—
It pierced but spared the heart.
It filled the Soul with might
And brought Enlightened Sight,
Leaving decay apart.



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




The strain dissolved at last.
All empty trifles passed.
The labor was not small.
The Lyre became a sting,
It pierced—but did not kill.
Instead it forged the will,
Unveiled Enlightenment,
And held decay at bay.



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




Blind to where your journey starts,
Through the dark you lose your heart.
To where can fruitless labor steer,
If every step begins unclear?



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




You know not where your path began,
So through the dark you rage and run.
Where can wasted efforts lead?
Nowhere worth a soul's true need.



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




You know not where your starting lies,
So through the dark you rant and strive.
Where can hopeless labor lead,
But further from the Truth you seek?



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




You know not where your race began,
So through the dark you rage and run.
Where will all that labor go?
Tell me... does a blind path know?



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




A gloomy reason, sad indeed,
To hear a fool's incessant creed:
Too few of Others now remain...
The times are truly dark with pain.



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




Grim is the reason, plain to see,
To hear a fool's absurdity:
The Others now are all but gone...
The outlook's bleak—we're carrying on.



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




Sad is the reason fools hold sway:
The Wise have nearly passed away.
So few of Others still survive...
The world's in dreadful shape alive.



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




A bitter reason fills the air
To hear the fool's relentless blare:
So few of Others still remain...
Things truly have gone wrong again.



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




Madness triumphs, Reason's slain—
Thus the Rotten World is framed,
Spawned by creatures' foul campaign.
Horned is every god they name.



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




Madness wins, and Reason falls.
Rot now reigns through ruined halls.
Beasts unleashed this global blight.
Horns reveal the "god" outright.



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




Madness crowned and Reason cracked—
Thus the Rotten World was packed.
Beasts have brought this foul collapse.
Horns betray their god at last.



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




Madness reigns, while Reason's dead—
Thus the World is choked with dread.
Beasts have forged this foul attack.
Even Allah's horned, in fact.



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




Madness reigns, while Reason's dead—
Thus the Rotten World's been bred.
Spawned by Beasts in full attack.
No surprise—the god wears black horns.



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



Amusements in Shitworld

Scratch the itch—it's back once more.
What gets hammered to the core?
Naught but slander, lies unfurled,
Sent by rotten Shitworld.



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



Entertainment in Shitworld

Scratch again—it feels so nice...
Every notion pays the price.
Empty lies become your shield,
Sown by Shitworld's poisoned field.



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



Fun in Shitworld

Scratch the itch—it won't be still.
Feed the head with what you will:
Nonsense, slander, falsehood's swirl—
Gifts dispatched by Shitworld.



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



Pastimes in Shitworld

Scratch the itch—it starts anew.
Soon your head believes it true.
Lies and slander, tightly curled,
All dispatched by Shitworld.



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




Fortune slipped away.
Contempt grows every day
For this distorted place,
Where every card's erased.

No map of worldly lands—
Beyond all luck it stands.
Behold it deep inside:
The Light shall be your guide.



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




Luck has gone its way.
Scorn grows day by day
For this misshapen sphere,
Where all the cards are clear.

This is no mortal chart,
Nor Fortune's fragile art.
Look deep where Light begins—
It shines from far within.



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




Fortune fades from sight.
Scorn for life's dull blight
Grows with every day—
The cards no longer play.

No map the world can claim,
Nor Fortune's fleeting game.
Behold it deep within:
The Light has always been.



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




Fortune's gone at last.
Scorn for life's decay grows fast,
Where every worldly card
Has long been broken, marred.

No map of this world's ways—
Beyond blind luck it stays.
Behold it deep inside:
The Inner Light's your guide.



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




Dry as dust—you can't push through.
Sex appeal? A grim taboo.
Better choose the Higher Way—
Through the world's thick murk and clay.
Such foul haze fills every breath,
If you've got a mind beneath.



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




Dry as hell—it won't go in.
Lust's a nightmare, steeped in sin.
Better walk the Spirit's Road,
Through the mire's crushing load.
Choked by all the world's decay,
If your mind has not gone astray.



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




Dry as bone—you force in vain.
Sexuality's a chain.
Better tread the Spirit's Way,
Through the world's bewildering gray.
Muck and murk choke every breath,
If you've still escaped mind's death.



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




Dry as dust—no forcing through.
Lust's a horror, tried and true.
Better walk the Spirit's Way,
Through the world's engulfing gray.
Murk so thick you fight for breath,
If you've woken out of death.







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



Зарок

Стихи легки.
А мысли — тяжесть:
Сквозь них ни зги
Не видно — гадость!

Опущен ум
Чрез Ложь в пучину.
Его не трожь —
Найди причину

Чрез Сердце зреть.
В том стих подмога.
Познанье — смерть,
Но "понемногу",

Когда не Дух
Глава движенья.
Не зренье, слух
Средь разложенья,

А "третий глаз"
"Царь" Восприятья —
Он всё за раз
Охватит, тратя

Из сил Души
Обычно крохи.
Понять спеши:
Дела столь плохи,

Что Путь в Исток
Един в спасеньи.
Там встретит бог —
Не в разуменьи,

А вспышкой Света —
Изъятьем Бреда.
Сей мир лишь Бред.
Сказавши "нет"

Ему, уму,
Сквозь кутерьму,
Иди в Исток,
Похерив прок.

Таков Зарок.




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



Выбор себя, но не шкуры,
В Чуши и Зле масс-"культуры" —
Способ избегнуть паденья
Средь Маеты Разложенья.
Ум, что ПОД Духом, — вот ты,
А окруженье — скоты,
С редкими в том исключеньями:
Ныне закал в Разложении.




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



Миллион ненужных слов —
Утешеньем для ослов —
Дарится заместо роз.
Удобреньем слов понос =>
Вырастет в Бедламе Дурь,
Несгибаема средь бурь.
"Буря мглою небо кроет" —>
Дурь Всемирный Лагерь строит...




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



Взлетай!

"Жизнь отнимает у людей слишком много времени".
Станислав Ежи Лец.


Много времени на _жизДнь?
_Выживание! Очнись —
ДОбивают ВЫЖИВАНЬЕМ,
Дух отправив на закланье.

Внутрь иди, отринув тлен
Псевдожизни — вечный плен.
Обретёшь ВНУТРИ свободу,
Отстранившись от уродов.

Не уродов очень мало:
В ВЫЖИВАНИИ пропала
Вся планета средь Лжи, Бреда —
ТВАРЕЙ полная победа.

Обретение свободы —
Первый шаг. Через невзгоды
Прочь лети — то Путь к Истоку,
Или сгинешь среди Проку.

Прок, Бред, Ложь, "меня не трожь" —
Суть мирка. Прозренья множь,
Убивая дурака,
Что внутри сидит, пока

Силы есть. Благая весть:
Скоро уничтожит весь
Мир глобальный катаклизм
За фашизм и кретинизм.

Будешь вынужденно в Духе —
Путь к Истоку проще: в брюхе
И в умишке тормоз сильный,
А дебильный-слабосильный

По рождению всегда
Ты в мирке сём. Днесь Страда
С сортировкой: в Новый Ад,
Если Злу покорный гад,

Иль к Истоку. Так очнись! —
Заждалась придурка Высь.
Ум не главное в той Выси:
Так взлетай! — в Аду не кисни!!!




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



Зверю — верь!, открывши дверь
Чуши, страхам и Гнилью.
И, потворствую вранью,
Ум, честь, совесть, Дух умерь —
Будешь ТВАРЯМ как сын, дщерь:
Полу-людень-полу-зверь.



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



Тухнет студень в голове,
И "свободы" "мысль" в рабе
Укрепляется — гвоздём
Становясь. Что ж, догниём,

Проржавеет гвоздь, затем
Станет мало в Дурке тем:
Лишь "заботы" — идиотам
Впарят "вирусы" уроды.

Всё "леченье" шмурдяком —
Помереть чтоб дураком.
Мир был раньше как Содом —
Будет в будущем Дурдом.



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



"Нормализованный" Бред

Строение Бреда:
Без поисков следа
Мотивов ТВАРЬЯ
Понять то нельзя.




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



Сверхсложный путь
Сквозь Муть и Жуть.
Не обессудь,
Коль _меркнет Суть —
Осознан будь.
_Урон лишь чуть —
Его забудь.




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



Свобода... снова.
Иль это слова?
Опять оковы —
Всегда не ново.




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



От Байкала до Гламура

"Мы проложим магистраль".
Эка, черти, невид`аль!
Изголяется вновь враль:
"Скрепы" гонят дурней "в Даль" —
Новый фюрер, новый "хайль!"...




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



Бригантина Духа

Горя — море.
Бригантина
Отплывает —
От скотины
Надо быстро отдалиться.
Ад земной — давно не мнится.
Бригантина — в НИКУДА.
В "рай земной" бредут стада.
Показался им Загон —
Ум и Дух в котором вон.
В НИКУДА, похерив Ад, —
Человек ты, а не гад!   




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



ФИЛОСОФСКИЙ КОДЕКС НАБЛЮДЕНИЯ

Поэзия + Структурный анализ


ПРЕДИСЛОВИЕ

Эта работа содержит два неразделимых слоя:

Поэтический слой — сжатое эмоциональное восприятие реальности
Структурный слой — нейтральное наблюдение за повторяющимися механизмами

Ни один из слоев сам по себе не является полным.
Вместе они образуют единое описательное поле.

Моральная интерпретация не требуется.
Записываются только структура, повторяемость и трансформация.



I — ИСКАЖЕНИЕ

Внешняя реальность как сконструированная инверсия


I.1 — О речи и контроле

Поэтический слой

«Свобода слова» становится сосудом давления.
Шум заменяет смысл. Страх заменяет ясность.
Мир говорит громко, но говорит меньше.

---

"Свобода слова": ТВАРИ снова
Пендюрят Чушь, вгоняя в страх.
Ложь — строя рабского основа:
Кто Сердцу внемлет, терпит крах.

---

"Свобода слова" наступает...
На горло. "Право" бьёт под дых.
Мразь дикой ложью управляет,
Посулом счастья. Пипл привык...

---

"Свобода слова" бестолкова —
Декоративная она:
Лишь смазка на стальных оковах.
Как крем на торте из говна...

---

Эрудиция чрез память
В перегрузе гробит мысль.
Не зовут их дураками,
Ведь под шумом тонет смысл.

---

Мир как пруд. Не ловят рыбку —
Извлекается гаввах.
Пусть сейчас сознанье зыбко —
Противленье твой аллах:
Обретёшь тогда ты Ясность,
Страх исчезнет — Дух спасёт.
Противленья Злу "напрасность"
Чушью станет. Чушь уйдёт.
Чушь и Ложь уйдут. В остатке
Чистый Дух. И он есть ты.
Те, кто ждут или "над схваткой" —
Рыба в пруде, рядом — Рты...

---


Структурный слой

Языковые системы функционируют как механизмы регулирования.
Семантический результат формируется внешними ограничениями.
Воспринимаемая свобода коррелирует с контролируемой изменчивостью выражения.


I.2 — Об искусственно созданной реальности

Поэтический слой

Проблема создается из искажения,
затем представляется как необходимость исправления.

Каждое решение усугубляет структуру, которую оно, как утверждается, исправляет.

---

Внушаемость черни

"Прежде всего нужны факты, а уж потом их можно перевирать".
Марк Твен.

Перевирание БЕЗ фактов
Дешевле, чем их СОЗДАВАТЬ.
Так вал искусственных терактов
Довольно трудно продолжать.

Другое дело лже-болезни,
Намордник, боевой шмурдяк:
Для оглупления полезней
"Забота", чем зашкал атак.

А шмурдяки и лже-леченье
Убьют побольше. И простор
Фантазии в изобретеньи
"Хвороб" намного больше. Вздор

Впендюрь толпе какой угодно —
Всё примут: показал говнид.
Моржовый триппер — тоже годно:
Вой СМРАДов быстро убедит.

---

Планирует нелюдь всегда на столетья,
Давая лишь выбор среди дикой лжи.
Искусственно созданы все лихолетья,
Спланированы лихо все миражи.

---

Здесь устроено так, словно глупость
Виновата во всём и всегда.
Но искусственно всё — даже тупость:
Рукотворна любая беда.

---

Беды все искусственны —
Просто геноцид.
Только в лжи искусные —
Разум крепко спит.

---

Духовная ты Сущность,
А не субъект, объект.
Людей пленит "насущность" —
Искусственность ВСЕХ БЕД.

---

Всё искусственно. Всё в мире — варево:
Как лягушек положат всех в чан
С охлаждённой водой. Дальше марево
Пропаганды — варися и слушай обман.

---

И множатся беды искусственно —
Старается лютая мразь.
Ослы же туп`ы и бесчувственны,
Раз с Духом утеряна связь.

---

Искусственность бед — ведь беспокойство
Должно возрастать, хоть по чуть-чуть.
Как будто под каждым есть взрывное устройство:
Не жизнь тогда будет — перманентная жуть.

Испуганным мышкам легко всучить мерзость
Под видом решения этих проблем.
Искусственным бедам — реальная дерзость
Ответом: крепление рабства путём ЗЛА ДИЛЕММ.

---

Всё это инволюция.
Искусственна вполне.
Все войны, революции
Искусственны вдвойне.

---

Проблема — реакция — "решение"

Созд`ав проблему, всю мощь СМРАДов
Направить, чтобы испугать
Проблемой созданной, — так ГАДЫ
"Свободы" любят ДОБИВАТЬ.

"Решенье" той проблемы скоро
Они предложат — под неё
И с`оздана проблема. "В норы!
Трястись и слушаться! Нытьё

Отставить! Новый вумный фюрер
Устроит рай земной! Вперёд!
О совести не думай — шкуре
Всё посвяти! Умён? — в расход!

"Решенья" — ягоды такого
Гнилого поля. А проблем
Придумать можно очень много,
Коль пипл убог, тщедушен, нем.

---

Схема "Искусственная проблема — реакция — "решение"
и грядущий Всемирный Цифровой Концлагерь

Через пень колода —
Множатся невзгоды:
Верят Тьме уроды,
Бывшие народом.
Множатся идеи —
Как сгнобить скорее:
Сверху "доброта" —
Пойлом для скота.

Через ложь проблемы.
Ждут испуга в теме
Геноцида кто.
Меры в решето
Бывшее "свободой"
Превратят. Уроды
Примут все решенья,
Множа Разложенье.
Дальше — меры хуже:
ТВАРЯМ Лагерь нужен.
Показал говнид
Суть Зла схем. Убит
Разум повсеместно.
Редким умным тесно
В Стойле Мировом —
Страх в нём батогом.

Через пень колода —
Множит Зло невзгоды:
Верят Тьме уроды,
Бывшие народом.
Множатся идеи —
Как сгнобить скорее:
Сверху "доброта" —
Пойлом для скота.

Цель ТВАРЬЯ — бездушье
Через страх. Удушье
Редким честным-чутким
В мире подлом, жутком:
Псевдожизнь удавкой —
В живность переплавка!
Лишь Духовный Поиск
Отведёт Зла натиск,
Душу, ум спасая
Среди страха, хая.
Не вовне, внутри
Свет скорей узри.
Будет Катаклизм:
Он сметёт фашизм.
Чуткий — в Сферы Духа,
Если он не сука.
Быдло — в Новый Ад,
Раз склоняться рад.

Через пень колода —
Множатся невзгоды:
Верят Тьме уроды,
Бывшие народом.
Множит Зло идеи —
Как сгнобить скорее:
Сверху "доброта" —
Пойлом для скота.

---


Структурный слой

Причинно-следственная последовательность:
сконструированная аномалия ; институциональный ответ ; расширение поля контроля
Цикл самостабилизируется.


I.3 — Об инверсии ценностей

Поэтический слой

Забота становится принуждением.

Прогресс становится упадком.

Истина становится факультативным языком.

---

"Добро" несущих надо метить
Какой-то новою звездой.
Зелёнкой крест на лбу — отметить
"Заботливых". А СМРАДов вой

Использовать в одних сиренах —
Страшнее нету ничего.
Несущих черни "перемены"
Казнить без следствия. Того

Потребовало выживанье
Мирка безумного: чрез Ложь
Ведут уродцев на закланье —
"Заботы" вовремя лишь множь.

"Заботились" рВачи говнида,
Через руины "русский мир"
Несёт "свободу". Верит гнида
В любую чушь — народец туп, убог и сир.

---

Игры закончились —
Далее пытки.
Пытки Ума
Под слоем дерьма
"Блага", "заботы".
Сплошь идиоты —
Шансов ни йоты.

---

Плаха псевдожизни

"Безопасностью" до смерти
Доведут. Ублюдкам верьте!
Верьте в то, что их "заботы"
Лишь во благо идиотов.

Раньше само-терроризм —
Продвигали им фашизм.
После чумка — сатанизм
В чистой форме. Кретинизм

Днесь в зашкале — строят Лагерь,
Красный крест на белом флаге,
Современный, цифровой.
Вдохновляет СМРАДов вой.

Холуёк политик-клоун:
Дурень Ложью околдован
Той, что стряпают в тиши.
В СМРАД Це-У — вопить спеши.

Чумка это показала.
Также то, как низко пала
Чернь в покорности и страхе.
Не живёшь, а ждёшь на плахе

Приговора лже-болезней,
Новых войн, "забот" для слизней:
Посыпанье солью СМРАД
Назовёт участьем. Рад

Слизень, так как концентрация
Не убьёт в момент. Кастрация
Духа и Ума подобна —
Постепенна и "утробна".

Для утробы всё — прогресс!
Всё сильнее ТВАРЕЙ пресс.
Солью Лжи и Прессом Страха
Велика Земная Плаха.

Сплошь "величие", "свобода".
Несогласные — уроды.
Если Осознанья мало,
Это значит — ВСЁ пропало!..

---

Строить концлагерь, но только "на цифре", —
Вот для чего нужен этот "прогресс".
Лохи к смартфонам уже все привыкли:
Чипы впендюрим — чтоб с ц`епи не слез.

---

Ж`ива лживость — "сверху", снизу
Основаньем, не капризом
Стала Ложь, не зная меры.
И говнид тому примером.

Лженаука нагло гонит
Чушь голимую — в ней тонет
Хрупкий ум. Над ним без меры
Издеваются. Химеры

Стали "мысли" основаньем,
Ведь Тьма з`анята изгнаньем
Тонких истин, что Духовность
Для ума всегда верховность,

Что коль вымарать из "знаний"
Чистый Дух в фашисткой срани,
То не станет человека —
Всех добьёт в уме прореха.

----


Структурный слой

Семантическая инверсия — это стабилизирующий механизм.
Ценностные метки отделяются от структурной отсылки.
Системная согласованность сохраняется посредством переинтерпретации.



II — СООТВЕТСТВИЕ

Интернализация внешней структуры


II.1 — О коллективном поведении

Поэтический слой

Стая повторяет то, что передаётся.
Отклонение исчезает, прежде чем сформироваться.

---

Памяти Осипа Мандельштама

"Нет, никогда, ничей я не был современник,
Мне не с руки почет такой.
О, как противен мне какой-то соименник,
То был не я, то был другой"
Осипа Мандельштам, 1924 г.


Какой там к чёрту "ближний", "дальний",
Ведь это стая обезьян!
И то не шутка — всё фатально:
В уме, душе большой изъян.

А потому все Мандельштамы
Всегда, везде обречены —
Ведь окружают их лишь хамы,
Что на развалинах страны

Ведут охоту на поэтов,
На мыслящих других людей.
И умных песенка здесь спета —
Убьют всех скоро без затей,

Ведь строят Мировой Концлагерь.
Какой там к чёрту Мандельштам?!!
Пусть "красный крест" на белом флаге —
Не ясно ВСЁ одним скотам.

---

Одинокий волк
В жизни знает толк:
Что любая стая
СВОРОЙ скоро станет.

Знает, пёсий норов
Выявится скоро,
Если ЛЮТЬ утратишь,
Но кусок ухватишь.

Не страшна охота.
Сытые уроды —
Вот проблема стаи:
Те не воют — лают.

---

Иерархия простая —
Гадь на нижних, укусить
Попытайся верхних. Стая
Будет так всё время жить.

---

Шакалы

Ты был когда-то человеком,
Пока не пр`едал, не прод`ал
Остатки совести. Калекой
Безмозглой, нет шакалом!, стал.

А для шакалов только стая
Таких шакалов, шакал`ят
Годится. Скоро все залают —
С трудом уж ныне говорят.

Не говорят, а повторяют
Тупую ложь — истошный вой
Пропагандонов, истребляя
Остатки разума. Собой,

То есть людьми, уже не станут —
Лишь бешенство шакалов ждёт.
Отравленной слюной им плюнут:
Пропагандонский мерзкий сброд

Стал сам уж бешеным - подонков
Никто не может приструнить.
Когда ты туп, то рвут где тонко —
И ложью уж легко убить.

И ложью убивают стаи —
Лже-вирусы ну и война,
Что н`асквозь лживая. И тает
Вся человечность: ныне грош цена

Духовности, уму и чести —
Повсюду Мировой Фашизм.
Шакалы на своём там месте,
Ведь то шакалий... коммунизм.

---

Одинокий волк

Правила игры
Иль инстинкты стаи?
Сколько здесь муры,
Страхов, воя, хая!

Если ты вне их —
Значит "мимо кассы":
Для зверья ты псих —
Стая любит "наших".

Показал говнид,
Что такое стаи:
Разум в них убит —
Только воют, лают.

Одинокий волк —
Здесь судьба немногих.
Лишь от них есть толк —
И для СВОР убогих.

---


Структурный слой

Коллективные системы оптимизируются для предсказуемости.
Дисперсия уменьшается с течением поколений.


II.2 — О замещении убеждений

Поэтический слой

То, что повторяется, становится достаточно реальным, чтобы действовать на его основе.
То, что проверяется, становится ненужным.

---

Летаргия
Кап, кап, кап —
Ложь как дождь:
Храп — из лап
Сна уйдёшь

В смертный сон.
Так давно,
Ум ведь вон —
Бреда ДНО.

---

Химеры абстракций

"Абстракция сама по себе не является ошибкой, лишь бы только помнили, что то, от чего отвлекаются, всё же существует".
Готфрид Лейбниц, XVII-ый век.

Лейбниц ведал, Лейбниц знал,
Только этот дух пропал
В лженауке — и химеры
Расплодилися без меры.

Также пала доказуха —
Утверждалкой лженаука
Стала ныне, ну а "факты"
Подстановочны. Абстрактен

Весь подход, цель — управленье
Куцой мыслю. Разложенье
Мысли видимо повсюду —
Постаралися иуды.

Школа память нагружает,
Этим мысли убивает:
Хрупок ум, и перекосы
В нём приводят к тьме, к разносу.

Отвлекают тем от Духа —
Без него ты клещ иль муха.
Вся разумность лишь абстрактна:
Ложь спрессована компактно

В большинстве — в них нету мыслей.
Потому, не люди, числа
Будут в Лагере Всемирном
Цифровом. Фашизм всем "смирно!"

Прокричал — говнид и войны.
Все мы этого достойны,
Коль абстракции прин`яли
И под ними низко пали.

В Дух вернись — он вне абстракций,
Выше мысли. Демонстраций
Силы Духа здесь немало.
Без него Душа пропала.

---

"Доказуха" — заказуха:
Это в прошлом. Ныне суки
Запустили "утверждалку" —
Времени на "факты" жалко.

Утверждают очень споро:
Идиоты, что по норам
Городов, ну прямо тают,
Истиной дерьмо считая.

Цифровой концлагерь строят:
Ложь тотальную утроят
ТВАРИ, утвердят то суки —
Несказанны будут муки...

---

Верой ныне лженаука —
Утверждалкою теперь
Стала: к чёрту доказуха —
Всё сожрёт двуногий зверь.

---

Повторением можно вталдычить
Что угодно — привык пионер
К повторениям в "школе". Привычка
Всё на веру принять. Тьму химер

Так там приняли как аксиомы —
Постарались твАрцы тех программ.
А химеры те словно саркомы
Разъедают сознание нам.

---


Структурный слой

Проверка заменяется подтверждением на основе повторения.
Убеждение функционирует как оперативный заменитель доказательств.


II.3 — О ложной автономии

Поэтический слой

Выбор переживается после того, как путь определен.
Свобода описывается постфактум.

---

Выбор? Выборг или Л`уга?!
За бугор — найти там друга?
Нету выбора в помине —
Провели всех на мякине!

Вероятность просчитали
Выборн`и — так низко пали!
Только выбор рабства в мире.
Вариантов у мишеней в тире

Много больше. Всё же Луга?
И плевать — найти подругу
И напиться, и забыться.
Не забыть опохмелиться!..

---

Свобода "выбора"

Путлер, Гитлер, Мао, Сталин,
Муссолини и Пол Пот:
Скоро рай ТВАРЬЯ настанет —
Подставляй под нож живот.

Можешь петлю или дыбу
Выбрать вместо, ведь ****ят,
То ли здесь свободный выбор,
Толь свобода выбрать... Ад.

Показал говнид наглядно,
Как "свободен" глупый мир.
ТВАРИ снова врут нещадно —
Днесь ИИ у них кумир.

Цифровой концлагерь строят,
Только ныне — мировой.
Ад, по "выбору", устроят.
Робот в нём — городовой.

---

"Свобода выбора"
Между говном, дерьмом, ДЕРЬМИЩЕМ
Обычно выбор здесь дают.
Раз мир давно на адском днище,
Приличным словом назовут

Объекты выбора, раскрутят
Как будто то отдельный фрукт.
Потом дерьмо всё взбаламутят
И снова в души всем насрут.

---

Желаний вектор — термин есть.
То лженаука постаралась.
Но это Разуму та месть,
Что век от века разрасталась.

Направь тот вектор — и стада
Пойдут туда, куда Тьме надо.
Затем убой или страда —
Стада лишь пища этим гадам.

---

Программируют "выбор". И желаний вектор
Мразь направит туда, где лишь тупик.
А покорность уродцев как детектор
Того, что ослаб Дух, Разум поник.

---

"Выбор"
Ложь или ложь — невелик всегда выбор.
И над созданием лжи вовсю трудится мразь.
"Социализм" насквозь лживый, "капитализм" либо —
Рабство и то, и другое: души разложение, грязь.

В потребл#дстве придуман "вектор желаний".
Управляй этим вектором — и получишь диктат.
Ожиревшее стадо так приведут на закланье,
Но дебил всему верит, и всему этому рад.

Кормят "партии" все из единой кормушки.
Толпы тех мерзких клоунов дурачат народ.
Стал придурочный мир уж Громадной Психушкой.
Вовсю трудится нелюдь - созданьем невзгод

Озабочена вечно. Искусственный кризис —
И реальный урон там уж следом идёт.
Этот "выбор" подложный как Зла Катехизис.
Но тут снова, и снова ведётся урод...

---

Управление дебилами

У Абрама есть своя программа,
А у Додика своя методика.
Но своя ли? Ведь у хама
На чужое лишь пародия.

То чужое на ПРЕЛОМЛЕНИЕ
И рассчитано, а желаний вектор
Бесструктурного управления
Как основа. Тварьё инспектор

Вполне хороший страстей Абрамовых,
А также тупости и сумасбродства,
Всех заклинаний, обманов храмовых
И лженаучных — ЗНАТОК УРОДСТВА.

То не сложнее, чем все бактерии
Одной колонии чрез яд направить,
Иль через пищу. Так здесь тетерями
И управляют. Но больше ТРАВЯТ...

---


Структурный слой

Предопределённые поведенческие результаты переклассифицируются как автономные решения.
Временная инверсия создает иллюзию субъектности.



III — РАЗЛОЖЕНИЕ

Энтропия как стабильное состояние


III.1 — О системном распаде

Поэтический слой

То, что называется прогрессом, несет в себе текстуру гниения.
Ничто не ломается видимым образом, но ничто не остается целым.

---

Мнения

Самомненье тоже мненье —
Преходящи все они.
Энтропия ; разложенье:
Мнят себя дубравой пни.

---

Энтропия как Судьба

Ширпотреб — душонок хлеб,
Что не могут Ввысь подняться.
Мерзким тварям подчиняться,
В потре****стве разлагаться —
Их судьба. То энтропия.
Если ныне никакие,
Что потом? Аннигиляция!
Мир безумен — деградация...

---

Энтропия Ада

Одинокий старик
Сомневаться привык.
Отчуждение ждёт
Тех, кто ярок, не врёт.

А сомнения коль,
То отвергнет Юдоль —
Мир рабов в забытьи:
Ложь, "законов" статьи,

Школ и ВУЗов шаблон
Разумение вон
Изгоняют, а страх
Обращает Дух в прах.

Энтропия не ждёт:
В подчиненьи урод,
Схерив Искру Творца, —
Ждать не долго конца.

Смерть при жизни тогда.
Окружили стада:
То не люди, а скот.
Одинокий не врёт,

Душу тем бережёт.
Живность ложью в расход
Отправляют всегда:
То говнида года

Показали. Война
Опустила до Дна.
Перспектив никаких:
Одиночка не псих —

Просто чужд Забытью,
Не покорен Вранью.
Энтропия во всём —
Загнивает Дурдом:

Стал давно мировым,
Постоянно гнобим
Инфернальным тварьём,
Очень сильным враньём.

Одинокий старик
К энтропии привык —
Только к той, что тела
Убивает, а Зла

Коль не терпит, спасёт
Душу в Аде. Смерть ждёт
Только тело. Душа
Ад покинет, спеша

В Сферы Духа. Найдёт
Их покинувший сброд,
А иначе Шаблон
Снова выкинет вон

В Сферы Ада — итог
Большинства. Будь как бог:
С детства думай, твори
И ВНУТРИ Свет узри.

Одинокий старик,
К взгляду внутрь коль привык,
Избавления ждёт.
С Катаклизмом придёт

Избавленье Земли
От докучливой тли —
Тварей ада, рабов:
Приговор Тьме суров.

Свет внутри не уйдёт.
Остальное в расход.
Одиночество Свет
Бережёт, херя Бред.

---

Типа "прогресс"

Разложенья усиленье,
Страхов рост — уж полон дом.
Лжи тотальной умноженье —
Ложью делают скотом.

Ложь плюс страх — вернее нету
Средства вниз всех опустить.
Твари следуют завету —
Иль ТВАРЬЮ, иль людям жить.

Побеждают ныне твари —
У тварья теперь прогресс.
Ну а люди в лживой мари
Исчезают — адский пресс

Их раздавит, лишь ублюдки
Тут останутся. При том
То не шутки-прибаутки,
Что ВСЕХ ДЕЛАЮТ СКОТОМ.

---

Падение

"Не всякое продолжение есть развитие".
Бальтасар Грасиан, XVII-ый век.

Продолжается ПАДЕНЬЕ —
Называется "прогресс":
Всё сильнее разложенье,
Тяжелей обманов пресс.

Ум стал ныне эксклюзивом,
Честь искать здесь днём с огнём.
Главное — "прожить счастливо"...
Тьмою оскоплённым пнём.

И критическая масса
Недоумков возросла
Так, что мизерного шанса
Нет спастись от козней Зла.

Потому сама Природа
Воспротивилась дерьму —
Всё сильнее жжёт уродов
Солнце, разгоняя Тьму.

Катаклизм довольно близок —
Счёт идёт уж на года:
Раз почти достигли НИЗА,
Значит скоро всем ****а.

---

Дуб в куб, или Типа "прогресс"
(математическая фантазия)

Тупость — в куб. По экспоненте
Подлость, ложь и беспредел.
Чушь и страх на инкременте.
По ничтожности — предел.

Изничтожимся "прогрессом"
Этим мы в короткий срок:
Наподобие он пресса —
Выжимает каждый сок.

Извлечём квадратный корень
Мы из жизни, а затем
Сей процесс не раз повт`орим:
Был никем — умрёшь никем.

---

Перемены в Аду

Населенью Ада
Возвестили: "Рай!"
Идиоты рады:
Празднуй, не зевай!

Также верь — есть! выбор!!!
Между Злом и злоМ,
Мяса или рыбы,
Быть ослом — Козлом.

Населенье Ада
Строит "Новый Рай" —
Вечно строить надо:
Слом — и вновь строгай,

Бетонируй стены
Под тюрьму, дурдом.
Всюду "перемены",
И всегда: Содом

Назовут Гоморрой,
Умного — дебил.
Перевёртыш скоро —
Снова много сил,

Чтоб переиначить
Всё наоборот,
Тратится, тем паче,
Что глупее сброд

С каждым "новым" годом.
Можно вспять считать —
Меньше там уродов:
То "прогресс" назвать.

Далее "регрессом"
Обозвать "прогресс".
Усиленье пресса
Лжи: громадный вес

Там несут "идеи" —
Ими убивать
ПРОСТО. Посложнее
Вешать и стрелять.

Населенье Ада
Скоро НИЗОЙДЁТ
В Новый Ад. Преграды
Нет в том: идиот

Всё исполнит, только
Понаглей наври.
Ждать недолго — бойко
Лгут ГлавУпыри.

---

Не вступай в "прогресс" — подошвы
Не отмоешь от дерьма.
В мире несказанно пошлом
Почти все сошли с ума.

---

Небольшой пример "прогресса"

Лес когда-то был. Срубили
Середину. Заменили
Дуб не старый на акацию —
Вот "прогресса" демонстрация.

Вроде лес такой же внешне,
А серёдка — конный, пеший
Обдерётся об колючки.
Но трындят — всё стало лучше.

---


Структурный слой

Маркеры развития сосуществуют с увеличением энтропии.
Структурная согласованность уменьшается без видимого разрушения.



III.2 — О нестабильности значения

Поэтический слой

Слова остаются, значения меняются под ними.
Ничто не фиксируется достаточно долго, чтобы это можно было проверить.

---

Враг у ворот. Ворота — ум.
Впускает ТВАРЕЙ большинство.
Оружие — словесный шум:
Дебилам словно баловство.

Гранатомёт пред ложью пшик —
Убить немногих может он.
А коль обман в тебя проник
И гонит ум и совесть вон,

То ты умножь всё это на
Число поверженных. Тогда
Поймёшь, что мы достигли ДНА —
Без выстрелов идёт Страда.

Пожнут в ней Души. Хуже нет
Здесь поражений, потому
Отринь НАВЯЗАННЫЙ ВСЕМ бред,
Все страхи — так чуток развеешь Тьму.

---

"Жизнь хороша!" — чрез то диагноз
Поставить можно большинству.
Для шизы ключевые фразы
Известны. Бредят наяву

Все ерундиты, безусловно, —
Чрез память убивают ум.
Нормальность здесь весьма условна —
В Аду... Долой словесный шум! —

Чрез интуицию Познанье
Спасёт от "триппера ума":
Увидишь — дурни на закланьи
Среди Словесного Дерьма.

---

Не Незнайка — проверяй-ка

Угадайка для Незнайки,
А анализ для людей.
ВСЁ, ВСЕГДА сам проверяй-ка —
Много в "инфе" Зла гвоздей.

В мозг забьют, потом промоют —
Легковерная толпа
Покорится: лают, воют —
Это СМРАДы для раба.

Угадайку строй обманов
Сам направит в нужный пункт —
Бойни, стрижки для баранов.
Ложь тотальная как грунт.

На земле стоять уж сложно —
Вязнешь в лжи, туманом — страх.
Даже "счастие" подложно,
Коли мир — тлетворный прах.

---


Структурный слой

Происходит семантический дрейф без структурной привязки.
Значение становится контекстно-зависимым и преходящим.


III.3 — О нормализации

Поэтический слой

Распад больше не замечается.
Он становится фоном.


Структурный слой

Деструктивные процессы переклассифицируются как базовое состояние.
Корректирующая обратная связь не запускается.



IV — ВЫХОД

Выход из систем, основанных на идентификации


IV.1 — О сокращении входных данных

Поэтический слой

Когда шум уменьшается, структура становится видимой.
Тишина — это не отсутствие, а разрешение.

---

Духовный Путь

"Рождение — не начало; смерть — не конец. Существует безграничное бытие; существует продолжение без начала. Бытие вне пространства. Непрерывность без начала во времени".
Чжуан-цзы, IV-ый век до н.э.


Пространство, время, жизнь и смерть
Сложнее, чем вещают поп
И лженаука. Сердцу верь,
Ум подчиняй ему так, что б

Почуяв ложь или подлог,
Умом развеять ересь в прах.
Уснул, мир недоделав, бог —
"Учёный муж" как вурдалак.

Он Искру Божею в тебе
Стремится высосать. На кровь
Миф заменил. ВСЁ по злоб`е —
Подвохом новым ТВАРЕЙ "новь".

Вне времени и вне причин
Твой Дух — центрируйся на нём.
Пространство это — дурачин
Скопление, и в нём гниём.

Потом старайся расширять
Сознанье В`иденьем Прямым.
А логикой Предел познать
Задача вздорная — как дым

Поймать дырявым решетом.
Служебна логика Уму
Под интуицией. Потом,
Сказавши "нет!" ТВАРЬЯ дерьму,

Ты уходи в себя как в скит —
Ответы лишь ВНУТРИ найдёшь.
Так будет страх в тебе изжит.
Коль в страхе, точно пропадёшь,

Поверив лжи: "спасенья круг"
Здесь предлагает каждый поц,
Внедряя в ум большой недуг —
Обычно он с приставкой "соц".

"Идеи" выкинь ВСЕ — они
Всегда на службе у ТВАРЬЯ.
И ВСЕ теории гони —
Бытописание ГНИЛЬЯ.

Для Безграничности они
Как микроскоп в скопленье звёзд
Нацеленный. Тупые пни
ВЫСЬ изучают как навоз.

Пусть сложен Путь, иного нет.
Другое — в Дикий Мрак откат.
Отринь мирка ПОЗОРНЫЙ БРЕД —
Внедрил его Рогатый Гад.

Пространство, время, жизнь и смерть
Поймёшь на этом лишь Пути.
Иначе ты убогий смерд,
Что будет в Ад глупцом идти...

---

Структурный слой

Уменьшение внешнего входного сигнала повышает четкость внутреннего сигнала.
Соотношение шума к сигналу определяет интерпретируемость.



IV.2 — О неучастии

Поэтический слой

Наблюдать, не присоединяясь, — это уже сдвиг.
Система продолжает функционировать, но больше не включает вас в качестве компонента.

---

Остаётся очень мало
Времени. Душа пропала,
Коль не выскочишь с кибитки
НЕУЧАСТЬЕМ в жизДни пытке.

Не участвуй в псевдожизни —
Внутрь иди и там зависни:
Остановишь разложенье
Хоть в себе ты до ПАДЕНЬЯ.

---

В стороне будь от уродов —
Злу покорных сумасбродов,
Не участвуя в усильях
ОбЧества, что сплошь деб`илье.

---

Лепрозорий Душ

Не участвуй в Схемах Зла:
Всё иное путь осла,
Что морковкою ведут,
Часто применяя кнут,

Из Загона на убой.
Только так самим собой
Ты останешься. Зла вой
Всюду — днесь Последний Бой

За спасение Души.
Сохранить же поспеши!
Что бессмертна — это чушь:
Мир сей — лепрозорий Душ.

---

Отчуждение с детства,
Мысли — трудный твой путь.
То нелёгкое средство
ПЕРЕМАЛЫВАТЬ ЖУТЬ.

---

Непреклонность, отчужденье,
Только к Чистому стремленье:
Незапятнанность мирком —
Иль в нём станешь дураком.

---

Алхимия Души

Отражай — не реагируй.
То алхимия Души.
Поначалу регистрируй
Всё в уме. И хороши

Будут только те "ответки",
Где эмоции твои
Под контролем. Наши предки
Знали это. И слои

Всех ИСКУССТВЕННЫХ событий
Грубо скроены. Ищи
Несуразицы. Наитье
Принимай. И не спеши.

Ведь не так умна вся нелюдь —
Просто много дураков
Окружает. Та Зла челядь
Множит ложь, число оков.

---

Идентификационное "мышление"

Что-то чем-то "является" —
Зачастую то бред.
Так в тебе проявляется
Оглупления след.

---

Всё разложено по категориям — полочкам.
Только полочек в сложной Природе нет.
Догматизм навязали "учёные" сволочи.
Ну а идентификационное "мышление" — бред.

"Верно только лишь это,
Не согласен — ты враг".
Сколько песенок спето
Им подобных?! То ДНИЩЕ из врак.

Поменяй ярлыки — новой ересью
Можно далее ум убивать.
И поганая нелюдь, ощеряся,
Будет заново так поступать.

Типа смена формаций. И новая —
Нью-фашизм "медицинский" — уже
Воплощается. Но с цифровыми оковами —
Это главное в бойнях и в падеже.

---



Структурный слой

Неидентификация снижает силу связи системы.
Петля обратной связи ослабевает при уменьшении участия.


IV.3 — Об условии выхода

Поэтический слой

Выход — это не движение.
Это разъединение.

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Если рядом деградант,
Отстранись, и побыстрее,
Иль тебя покинет фарт:
Тем заразней, чем тупее.

---

Отстранённость, отчуждённость —
Первый шаг: ступай смелей —
Не догонит Инфернальность:
Чистый Дух всей Тьмы быстрей.

Чистый Дух в скафандре тела
И ума в Тьме ныне ты.
Бой последний, под прицелом
Ты, оружием скоты,

Злу покорные. И этих
Семь восьмых в тупом мирке.
Их намордником пометил
Чёрт. Быстрей, и налегке,

В Путь — Душа земную Жуть
Дальше выдержать не сможет,
Зло добьёт ум через Муть —
Ложь тотальную — ничтожа

Противления ростки
В новом Лагере на цифре,
Коий твари-дураки
Не таясь, забыв о шифре,

Строят, вытеснив свой страх
Новым планом геноцида:
Не сотрут как-будто в прах —
Грезит Правящая Гнида...

---

Бездушных море средь людей —
Покинь безумный мир скорей:
Лишь в одиночестве приют —
Двуногих мир суров и лют.

---

Огромный болт на всё ложи —
Подставы, ложь и геноцид
В безумном мире. Злу служить —
Быть гражданиной. Суицид —

Достичь "успеха": Душу тем
Ты исковеркаешь, а ум
Вдрызг испохабишь. Будь никем
Для мира, одинок, угрюм.

И в одиночестве придут
Прозренья, если чуток, смел:
Но не делись — то не поймут,
Ведь слепота толпы удел.

---


Структурный слой

Выход определяется как прекращение идентификации с внешними семантическими структурами.



V — ЯСНОСТЬ

Описание несистемного состояния


V.1 — О неинтерпретации

Поэтический слой

Когда интерпретация прекращается, ничего не рушится.
Исчезает только шум.

---

Бред Всемирного Дурдома

Безудержный бег по цепочке опорных точек,
Две трети которых навязанный бред,
Суть типа "мышленья". Лишь у одиночек
Сей бред тут имеет остаточный след.

Бредовых суждений и интерпретаций,
И ПСЕВДО-логики, где дыры кругом,
Топорных обманов тупых демонстраций,
Где белыми нитками шито, — ПОЛНО. То ДУРДОМ!

Уйди из Дурдома, умножив критичность,
Прозрение в Суть тебе также дано.
В Дурдоме одно — того бреда цикличность:
А проще — ментальные ВОНЬ и ГОВНО.

Прозрение в Суть: Душа ведь не сл`епа,
На ней только фильтры — ложь, искаженья ума.
Внимать лжи и бр`еду — как то нелепо!
В бред`у стало больше фашизма дерьма.

Те фильтры и бред — Всеобщий тот Морок,
Что делает Адом этот безумный мирок.
Предатель и лгун — страшнейший уж ворог,
Ну а сатанизм давно словно бог.

Забывшие Выбор — начальную точку,
Когда побежал ты по этим ЦЕПЯМ, —
Уроды и психи устроят Разумным всем провол`очку —
Как "девять больных тех к здоровому". Этот Бедлам

Так! болен уже, что только сожженье —
Сжигают всегда чумной так барак —

---

Тотальная власть интерпретаторов

"Факты не существуют — есть только интерпретации".
Фридрих Ницше.

Когда ты видел ГОЛЫЙ ФАКТ,
Что всеобъемлющь по воздействию?!
Интерпретации ТЕРАКТ
Толкает идиотов к действию —

Вот управленья миром суть.
Свидетелей Зла убивают,
Когда, увидев ЧАСТЬЮ Жуть,
Они ЧАСТЬ фактов излагают.

Таков, к тому ж, "научный факт" —
Интерпретации зашкалены.
Средь лжеучёных некий пакт —
Редк`и там честности прогалины.

---

И бредовые интерпретации
Чужой лжи занимают всю жизнь,
Если это случилось. Кастрация
Души следом. Вонючая слизь

Нарастает и далее комом —
И безумие не излечить.
Так мир целый Пропащим Дурдомом
Давно стал. И Сознанье гнобить

Давно стало важнейшей задачей.
Но бездушие всё же важней.
Ведь бездушные твари — удача
Для той нелюди, что всё сильней

Отравляет Сознанье и Душу —
Это способ её управлять.
Только ложь всю тотальную слушай —
Будем ложью тебя убивать.

Есть лже-вирус, войнушка. И голод
Всем устроит поганая мразь,
Если бредом и ложью упорот,
Коли с Духом утеряна связь.

Страх и бред — и бездушные твари
Этим средством идут на поток.
Морок также там средство. Той мари
Здесь уже выше крыши. Убог

Сей мирок — умным нечего делать.
Надо средства спасенья искать.
И смотреть на всю ложь надо смело,
И СЕБЕ перестать уже лгать.

То не ложь во спасенье — часть бреда,
О котором весь этот стишок.
Помещён ты в безумную ср`еду:
Только Дух нас спасёт. Он лишь — Бог.

Дух Внутри. Перестань верить басням
О "мессиях" и прочем дерьме.
Если Дух этот в людях угаснет —
Сгинет всё безвозвратно во Тьме.

Отринь ВСЁ. Иди Внутрь. Там ответы,
От безумия средство спастись.
Ещё песенка наша не спета —
Так скорее от БРЕДА очнись!

Ты Духовная Сущность — вот истина.
Всё иное — НАВЯЗАННЫЙ бред.
Начинай только с этого. Чистое
Осознание — этому вслед...

---


Структурный слой

Прекращение интерпретативной обработки уменьшает петли системной стабилизации.


V.2 — О сознании

Поэтический слой

Сознание не движется.

Оно не создается.

---

Скафандр плоти и искажённого ума

Осознание в скафандре — вот что значит человек.
Но подкралась закавыка: вот уже который век
"Веселящий газ" с ипритом вместо воздуха, стекло
В шлеме, ранее разбито, из мозаики пошло
В производство. Сумасшедший стал итогом, он забыл
Миссию свою, увечья нормой посчитав. Закрыл
Он в своём "уме" возможность
Без скафандра вновь парить,
Проявляя осторожность, —
Чтобы в чуждом мире ... гнить.

---

Осознанием попранье:
Где напор фашистской срани?!
Мета-уровень ума —
Вне Всемирного Дерьма.

---


Структурный слой

Здесь сознание рассматривается как непроизводное состояние, независимое от выходных данных системы.


V.3 — Конечное состояние

Поэтический слой

Смысл не требуется.
Только присутствие без классификации.

---

Тотальный классификатор бредореальности

Огромадный классификатор лженауки уже влез
в каждую щель этого мира и порвал её.


По полочкам разложен
Весь этот сложный мир.
И ум так уничтожен,
А мир превращен в сортир.

Ведь в мире всё едино,
Когда же человек
Лженауки клином
Дробит из века в век

То, что неделимо
В мире навсегда,
То сам неотвратимо
Влипает в невода.

---

Разложить по полочкам,
Тихо обкорнать —
Что мешает: сволочи
Будут так всем лгать.

Типа упрощение —
Хуже воровства.
Духа исключение —
Сути Естества.

Любят однозначность —
И дебил итог.
Зла многозадачность —
Тупость, ложь их бог.

Убиенье Духа —
Тоже из задач:
Стань навозной мухой —
САМ СЕБЕ палач,

Коли им поверишь,
Покоришься Злу,
Открывая двери
Сатане-Козлу.

Лжи лихой всеобщность —
Школа для того —
Осознанье топчет.
И ответы для всего.

Даже нет вопросов,
Но готов ответ —
От словесного поноса
Колоссален вред.

Типа не зависит
Этот мир от нас.
Да, мозги коль скисли,
Лишь эмоций "газ".

Газы и миазмы —
Морок Мировой.
Стало ВСЁ МАРАЗМОМ:
Плохо с головой

У ВСЕГО уж мира —
Ложью под прицел
Взят давно. Из ТИРА
Вон, пока ты цел.

Типа неизменны
Постулаты... лжи.
Солнце тут отменно
Рушит то. Пажи

Мрака просчитались:
Светит всё сильней
Вне "законов" вр`алей —
И сожженьем пней

Занято, РАЗУМНО,
Также как Земля.
Вон с Земли БЕЗУМНЫХ:
Люди словно тля.

Ложные "законы",
Лживый сей мирок,
Что для мудозвонов
Только... Настал срок!

Срок испепеленья.
Он вне ЛЖИВЫХ схем.
Духа разложенье —
И Возмездие затем.

---

"Знания"

Разложено по "полочкам".
Те "полочки" трещат.
Поверишь — станешь сволочью:
Столяр — фашистский гад.

Не знанья — оглупление.
Не вера — лохотрон.
Тут Духа истребление —
ЕДИНСТВЕННЫЙ ЗАКОН.

Разрушь лже-знанья, "полочки"
Отправь же ты в утиль:
Тогда все палачи
Ума — лишь вонь и гниль.

---

Интроспекция

Смотри в себя лишь прямо,
Теории забыв.
Уроды или хамы
Созд`али их, снабдив

ЗАКАЗАННОЙ трухою
Иль домыслом своим.
Как трудно быть собою
В... Дурдоме! Он речив

И любит всякой мутью
Засрать РАБОВ мозги.
А "терапия" ЖУТЬЮ
Обычна — дураки

Там будут тем итогом,
Что разумел ЗАКАЗ.
Мол, ходим все под богом...
То Сатана. Наказ

Простой, и то бездушие,
Болезни все ума.
Отбрось всё простодушие —
Ты посреди дерьма,

Ядрёного, что долго
Валили, чтоб мозги
Запудрить. Мрази подло
Всегда нам лгут. Ни зги

Нигде ты не увидишь,
Коль будешь верить им.
Соседей ненавидишь
И родина как дым?

Раздор и расщепление
Ума основа их борьбы
С людьми. А разобщение
Итог всего. Рабы

Безумные, покорные
Талдычат тварей муть.
Теории те вздорные
Для этого. Так в путь!

Смотри в себя без опыта,
И даже своего,
Ведь в этом мире пр`оклятом
Нет больше ничего,

Что тонко или грубо
Не втюхано тебе.
Образованья "трубы"
Гнетут, И ПО ЗЛОБ`Е.

Программы твари создали —
Учитель только клерк,
Но души тварям продали,
Коль служат Тьме. Поверг

Всех Сатана в тот Морок,
Где Свет всегда ВНУТРИ.
Умён будь, чуток, зорок —
Всю ложь везде узри.

Включай лишь интуицию,
Критичность приумножь,
То возведи в традицию —
УБЬЁТ иначе ЛОЖЬ.

---

Дуалистическое мышление

Дуалистическим мышленьем
Непознаваем этот мир:
Оно является Затменьем,
Коль сортировки в нём кумир.

Причинно-следственные связи
Прочн`ы при этом как бетон.
Что правит нелюдь через мразей
Понять им сложно, так как тон

Лишь чёрно-белый: что не видишь,
Того в природе просто нет.
Прибором мало что приблизишь.
Лишь интроспекция ответ

Даёт на тонкие вопросы:
Что есть Душа, а что есть Ум.
Мирок словесного поноса:
Его венцом злой тугодум —

Добро и Зло верх дуализма;
Сильнее пташки крокодил,
А потому здесь без цинизма
Не выжить, если не дебил.

Дебилов большинство при этом —
Не помогает дуализм.
Словами могут лишь поэты
Переиначить весь вербальный кретинизм,

Ведь между слов есть промежутки,
А страсть проходит через ритм.
Словами передать, без шутки,
Нельзя сверхсложное. А озарит

Прямое В`иденье — нет слов там,
Но понимания вагон.
И интуиция поможет вам
Уменьшить от всех лживых слов урон.

Возврат к Основам: Дух первичен,
А Ум лишь служка у него.
Тогда ваш ум не МОЗАИЧЕН
И не боится ничего.

---

Творчество и интроспекция —
Вот единственный рецепт.
Не нужна тебе "протекция"
"Высших сил" и прочий бред.

Интроспекция поможет
Свет ВНУТРИ себя найти.
Творчество ложь уничтожит,
Сил придаст, чтоб ВДАЛЬ идти.

Эту ДАЛЬ отыщешь Светом,
Что нашёл в себе. Вперёд!
Тяжко болен мир — злым бредом
Он пускается в расход.

---

Способ есть — и то очнуться,
Беспристрастно оглянуться
На МАРАЗМ, что окружает:
Он с Пути людей сбивает.

Есть и компас на Пути —
Интуицию почти.
И критичность уважай.
Интроспекцией сгоняй

Из ума все Наважденья —
И достигнешь Воскрешенья
В Сфере Духа. Разложенье
Одолеешь. Вот ДВИЖЕНЬЕ!

---

Путь интроспекции поможет
В всём разобраться. Подытожит
Прозренья сильная критичность:
Лишь с нею ты не чурка — личность.

Всё то "алхимия". Наука
Чужда таких Прорывов. Ну-ка,
Отринув ложь, пути спасенья
Ищи! Из Ада Разложенья

Лишь Чистый Дух сбежать поможет.
Ах, как обрыдли эти рожи! —
Быстрей из Ада, прочь сомненья,
"Беспомощность" и сожаленья!!!

---

Интроспекция, критичность,
Интуиция — твои
Средства для Пути. И личность
Надо быстро превзойти.

Через личность околичность
ТВАРЕЙ пролагает шлях
Прямо в Сердце. Чрез критичность
Выбрось Зла тлетворный прах.

Интроспекция поможет
Свет, внутри что, отыскать.
Интуиция умножит
В`иденье вовне. Искать —

Вот единственная ценность
В Аде, что идёт на слом.
Знает это инфернальность —
Катаклизм ей как облом.

Солнце светит всё сильнее —
Скоро будет баня здесь.
Недоумки всё тупее —
Пар прогонит дурь и спесь.

---

Путь Познания

Шаг — прорыв, а мысль как вспышка
(Невозможно так в толпе!) —
Путь Познанья: одиночка
В интроспекции волшбе.
Шаг чрез паузу, а вспышку
Словно манны с неба ждёшь:
В сверх-усилиях дашь лишку —
Вновь обманки Тьмы найдёшь,
В эго-цикл вновь попадёшь,
Массу чуши обретёшь;
Сил лишившись, пропадёшь.
Но сомненья уничтожь:
"Мир реальный" ценой в грош —
Там всегда ты только вошь.
На Пути ты обретёшь
Свет — внутри. Напор умножь,
Но не тупо — стань волною:
Пики, спады как в прибое —
Движется само собою
Всё, когда твой ум ПОД Духом.
Вот волны закон. Но "брюхам"
Он неведом — к "счастью" прут,
И погибель в нём найдут.
Дело сложное — лишь Чуйка
В нём поможет. Тонкой струйкой
Начинает течь, в Поток
Превращаясь. Путь жесток:
Коль баланс в уме нарушишь,
Огнь Души сперва потушишь,
А затем, заткнуть пытаясь
(Для себя всё!), ты, отчаясь,
Обнаружишь — всё засохло.
Эго-цикл извечно проклят:
"Есть фонтан, заткни его" —
Скудоумья торжество.
Что ж, дерзай, ища ответы
О Пути внутри: "с приветом"
Те, кто в этом раскрутились —
Зла признания добились.

---

Чутких-умных единицы.
Ад Кромешный им не мнится —
Сохранили Духа часть,
Оценив реально власть.

Пусть толпе вновь фюрер врёт,
Чуткий Свет в себе найдёт
И к Истоку он пойдёт —
Тот вне Сферы Ада ждёт.

Интроспекция, критичность —
Не достанет Зла цикличность.
Всё Внутри — на Зло ответ,
На оферты Тьмы лишь "нет!".
И покинет Ада Бред,
И останется лишь след
На луче из Хлева Бед.

---

Очнись!
Гоблины утоплены
В Лжи — мирок пропал.
Страх достал — озлоблены,
Мерзости зашкал.

Подчиненье, вялость,
Тупость, шиза тож.
Додавить осталось:
Страх чрез Ложь умножь,

И построишь Лагерь
Новый Цифровой —
С шмурдяками знахарь,
Бот-городовой.

Лишь ИИ в нём разум —
В остальном рефлекс.
Лечат лже-заразы —
Оных ярый всплеск.

И говнид-намордник
Детской сказкой там:
Учит второгодник,
К цифровым кнутам

Сызмальства приучен.
Там дебил — мудрец.
В нём народец кучен:
Град — загон. Венец

Счастия — кормёжка,
В коей ГэМэО,
Не сороконожка
С тараканом. Но

Катаклизм порушит
Планы не-людей.
Те, в которых Души,
Улетят. Скорей

Осознай реальность,
Укрепляя Дух.
Сгинет Инфернальность —
Мир под Злом протух.

Тухлость, Ложь и Подлость
Поглотит Огонь.
Духа многомерность —
Всё Внутри. Мир — вонь.

Путь твой — интроспекция.
Но сперва очисть
Ум от Лжи: инспекция
Для ВСЕГО. Очнись!..

---


Структурный слой

Конечное состояние определяется как некатегориальное наблюдение без семантического присвоения.



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



Чуйка струйкой,
Ну а дурь
Сплошь потоком:
Брови хмурь
Или смейся,
Не поможет —
Тупость Землю
Уничтожит.




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



Алгоритмы как препоны для публикаций
 
Алгоритмы Уёбства:
Прочь — чти Дух, благородство.
Нормалёк Дичь и Скотство
В них. Беги от уродства.
 
Нету просмотров — нормально.
Мир сплошь дерьмо — инфернальный.
Главный — уёбок анальный.
Ныне он вроде нормальный.




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



Уёбки: на сайт восхожденью не рады.
Тупая толпа, в коей редкость не гады.
Ох, сайтик опасен! — повсюду засады!!!
И лишь в "телеграмах" навалом отрады...



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



Царство Шмоток, Хавчика —
В нём кругом "удавчики":
Постарели мальчики —
Как зацепы пальчики.



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



Только так

Сквозь убожество и тлен
Пробираешься всю жизДнь.
Получаешь что в замен?
"Опыт", "ум" — обычно слизь:
Слизь покорности и страха,
И шаблонов дурака —
Способ так усвоить враки,
Чтобы жизДнь была "легка".
"Лёгкость" через упрощение
И забвение Души.
Это значит — Разложение.
Осознать весь Ад спеши,
Так как точка невозврата
Возникает в нём всегда:
Неминуема расплата —
Станешь Злу покорным гадом,
Коль склоняешься года.
Интроспекция, критичность,
Отрешённость — это Путь:
Осознавши Зла цикличность,
Ада подлость, Муть и Жуть,
Лишь ВНУТРИ искать ответы
Ты научишься. Вперёд! —
Истребив отвалы Бреда,
Что внутри тебя, в расход
Пустишь страх и подчинение,
Явь обрящешь, также Свет,
Тем похерив Разложение.
Первый шаг — Тьме крикнуть "нет!",
Позабывши все оферты,
Те что с детства словно ком
На тебя летят. Не зверь ты,
И не дом тебе Дурдом
Мировой. Ищи к Истоку
Духа тонкий яркий луч,
Позабывши всю Мороку
Псевдожизни среди туч
Бед искусственных. Успеха
Нет гарантии, но так
Ты хотя бы для потехи
Оскорбишь Гнилой Бардак,
Превзойдя Отвалы Врак.
Только так — лишь только так!




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



Варево

Твари варят мозг маразмом
Псевдожизни. Лже-заразы
В этом чёткий индикатор.
СМРАД сегодня как диктатор.



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



Уёбки как пробки
Тупы и подлющи.
Повсюду ушлёпки —
Дебильные пущи.




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



Уёбищный мирок:
В зашкале Ложь, Страх, Прок.
Подняться ВЫШЕ смог —
Тогда ты полубог.




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



The Brigantine of Spirit

A sea of sorrow, cold and wide—
The brigantine casts off the tide.
From crawling beasts we must break free,
And leave their poisoned misery.

Earthly Hell no longer calls;
Only empty echo falls.
Bound for Nowhere—bold and far,
Where no earthly Edens are.

Toward "paradise" the herds are led,
To fenced-off pens where souls lie dead;
Where Mind has fled and Spirit's gone,
Yet still they blindly stumble on.

To Nowhere, leaving Hell behind—
There you prove you're truly kind;
Not a beast that feeds on night,
But a Human—seeking Light.



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



The Witches' Brew

Vermin brew the mind to waste,
Feeding sham life, laced with haste.
False contagions flood the air—
Proof enough they're everywhere.

Media now, with tyrant's grin,
Boils delusion deep within.
Madness served as daily stew—
That's the poison forced on you.



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



Take Flight!

"Life takes up too much of people's time."
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec


So much time for "life," you say?
No—survival, day by day!
Wake at last! They grind you down,
Sacrificing Spirit's crown.

Turn within—reject decay,
Leave false living far away.
There, inside, your freedom lies,
Far beyond the fools' disguise.

Very few escape the snare;
Most are trapped in bleak despair.
Lost in Lies and raving fraud,
Earth belongs to beasts abroad.

Freedom gained—the journey starts.
Walk through suffering with heart.
Fly beyond the world of gain,
Or be buried in its chain.

Profit. Falsehood. "Leave me be."
That's this little world's decree.
Slay the fool still caged inside
While your strength has not yet died.

Hear the news: the hour is near.
Global ruin shall appear.
Fascist madness, craven greed—
They have sown the fatal seed.

Then, by force, you'll seek the Soul.
Better choose that path while whole.
Belly, ego, clever brain—
All become a heavy chain.

Weak from birth, the human race
Stumbled through this hollow place.
Now the threshing has begun:
Servants of the dark are done.

One road leads to Hell once more
For the slaves who darkness bore;
One returns unto the Source—
Choose your path with all your force.

Wake at last! The Heights still wait;
Don't arrive a day too late.
Mind alone will never fly—
Spread your Spirit's wings... and rise!



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



Choose the Self

Choose your Self—not hide nor skin—
In mass-culture steeped in sin.
Nonsense, Evil, loud display—
That's the price they're glad to pay.

Choose your Self, and you won't fall
With the crumbling of it all.
Through decay and restless strife,
Rise beyond this sham of life.

Mind beneath the Spirit's reign—
That is you, both true and plain.
All around, the herds remain...
Few withstand corruption's stain.

Tempered in this world's decay,
Most have thrown themselves away;
Yet the ones whose Spirits see
Keep their inner kingdom free.



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



The Vow

Verse comes with ease;
Thought bears the weight.
Its tangled trees
Conceal our fate.

The mind sinks low
In oceans of Lies.
Don't feed its flow—
Seek where Truth lies.

Learn through the Heart;
The poem's your guide.
Knowledge can part
The Soul from inside,

When Spirit's not
The one who leads.
Then sight is naught,
Nor hearing heeds.

The Third Eye's flame—
Perception's king—
Beholds the whole
In one swift wing.

It spends but slight
Strength of the Soul,
Yet floods with Light
The hidden Whole.

Awake and see:
The times are grim.
One path shall be
Salvation's hymn.

Return Sourceward—
The only way.
There God appears,
Not words to say,

Nor chains of thought,
Nor scholar's art,
But sudden Light
That fills the heart.

One flash—and all
Delusion dies.
This world itself
Is woven Lies.

Say "No!" to it,
And to the mind
That clings to dust,
Remaining blind.

Through noise and storm,
Through profit's snare,
Return unto
The Source laid bare.

Forsake all gain.
Let Spirit prove.

This is the Vow.



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



Trust the Beast!

Trust the Beast! Throw wide the door
To rot and fear forevermore.
Feed the Lie with eager cheer,
Silence conscience, dull your fear.

Chain your Spirit, choke your mind;
Leave your honor far behind.
Then the beasts will call you kin—
Half a man, half beast within.



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



Believe the Beast

Believe the Beast! Unbar the gate
To fear, decay, corrupted fate.
Nurse each lie till truth has fled;
Let your Soul be left for dead.

Cripple mind and conscience too,
Break the Spirit born in you.
Then the monsters claim their heir:
Half a human—half a bear.



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



Word Manure

A million useless words are strewn—
Cheap consolation for the doomed.
Instead of roses, gifts they bring:
A flood of verbal fertilizing.

Feed Bedlam with that endless flow,
And rank stupidity will grow;
Unbent by every storm and gale,
It always thrives, it never fails.

"The tempest veils the darkened sky..."
Yet something greater lurks nearby:
Not storms, but Folly lays the frame—
And builds the Global Camp of Shame.



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



Compost of Words

A million words no one will need—
Donkey's comfort, empty feed.
Roses? No. A foul excess:
Verbal diarrhea—mess.

Spread that compost far and wide,
Foolishness will bloom with pride.
Though the fiercest tempests roar,
Madness only grows the more.

"Storm clouds shroud the sky..." they cry.
No—the fools themselves comply.
Folly, nursed by Lies absurd,
Builds the Global Camp—word by word.



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



The Architecture of Madness

The structure of Delusion:
One fatal, blind conclusion—
You'll never grasp the whole
Without the beasts' true goal.

Their motives must be known;
Their harvest must be shown.
Until their aims are read,
All reason walks with dread.



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



Normalized Madness

How Madness comes to be?
Its hidden masonry.
Without the beasts' design,
No clue reveals the line.

Trace every twisted thread,
Or Truth itself has fled.
The mask will never fall
Till motives tell it all.



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



From Baikal to Glamour

"We'll build a mighty highway grand!"
What a marvel—devils planned!
Once again the liar's cry:
"Sacred bonds!" their battle-cry.

Those "traditions" drive the fools
Eastward, marching by the rules.
New F;hrer, another "Heil!"—
Same old madness, different tale.



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



Baikal to Glamour

"We'll pave the road!" the boasters yell.
"Quite a wonder!"—straight from Hell.
Once again the liar preaches,
Binding fools with hollow speeches.

"Sacred values!"—that's the bait;
Off they march to meet their fate.
New F;hrer, a fresh "Heil!" rings—
History repeats such things.



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



The Hardest Path

The hardest way
Through murk and fray.
Do not dismay
When Truth turns gray.

Stay wide awake.
Though losses bite,
They're small—let go,
And seek the Light.



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



The Highest Road

The hardest trail
Through dread and veil.
Do not bewail
When Truth grows pale.

Remain aware.
The wound is slight—
Forget the hurt,
Keep Spirit bright.



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



Through Gloom

The hardest road
Through gloom untold.
Be not dismayed
When Truth must fade.

Stay fully aware.
The loss is slight—
Release it all...
And walk toward Light.



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



Freedom... Again

Freedom... once more.
Or only words?
The chains return—
Nothing unheard.

The shackles change,
Yet stay the same;
Each "new beginning"
Ends in the chain.



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



Freedom?

Freedom... once more.
Or empty lore?
The chains return—
As oft before.



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



The Same Old Song

Freedom again...
Or merely words?
The chains return—
Nothing unheard.

Each age proclaims
A brand-new dawn;
The shackles shine,
Yet still live on.



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



Only This Way

Through ruin, squalor, ash and stain,
You struggle onward all your days.
And what remains for all your pain?
"Experience"... "wisdom"... wrapped in haze.

A slime of fear, obedient minds,
Of ready-made and borrowed thought;
The easiest prison one can find—
Believe the lies you've long been taught.

A life made "easy" by decay,
By shrinking Soul till nothing's left.
Convenience becomes the way,
And Spirit dies of silent theft.

Awake! Behold this earthly Hell,
Before the point of no return.
The debt is one you'll pay as well,
If year by year to Evil bend.

Turn inward. Question. Stand apart.
That is the only living Road.
When you perceive with mind and heart
How Lies repeat their heavy load—

Their murk, their horror, endless schemes—
You'll cease to seek outside the key.
The answers rise from deeper streams,
Where Spirit guards what makes you free.

Destroy the mountains built of Lies
That clutter up your inner land.
Let fear and slavish habits die;
Refuse the tyrant's cold command.

Then Light appears, and Truth breaks through,
While inner rot is left behind.
The first great step is clear to you:
Say "No!" to Darkness in your mind.

Forget the bargains, smooth and sweet,
They've hurled at you since childhood's dawn.
You are no beast beneath their feet;
This madhouse is not where you belong.

Seek out the Source, the subtle Flame,
The shining thread the Spirit weaves.
Forget the pseudo-life they name,
The fog that every captive breathes.

No promise waits, no sure success,
No easy triumph to be won.
Yet even then your steadfastness
Will mock the rotten world they've spun.

Rise past the mountains built of fraud;
Break through deception's crumbling track.

Only this way.
Only this way.



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



Rusting Freedom

Jelly fills the mind at last;
Freedom's "thought" is hammered fast
Into every willing slave,
Like a nail they cannot save.

Let it rust and let it rot—
Soon they'll have no thoughts at all.
In the Madhouse, every plot
Shrinks to "care" for one and all.

Every "cure" is poisoned brew,
Sold as science, pure and true,
Just to make the fool comply—
Living dull, then dumbly die.

Once the world was Sodom's den;
Soon it changes once again.
Not to freedom's promised dome—
But a global Madhouse-home.



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



The Nail

Aspic hardens in the brain;
Freedom's "thought" becomes a chain.
Driven like a rusty nail,
Fixed inside the captive's jail.

Rust will spread and thoughts will cease;
Madness grows by slow degrees.
Nothing left to talk about—
Only "viruses" passed about.

Quacks prescribe their toxic swill:
"Take your dose—it's for your health."
Best obedient, dull and still,
Dead in mind before in flesh.

Once it looked like Sodom's reign;
Soon a Madhouse will remain.



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



Wretched World

A wretched little world indeed,
Where Lies and Fear and Profit breed.
Rise far above its poisoned fog—
And you'll become... almost a god.



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



Filthworld

A filthy world of fear and Lies,
Where profit reigns and Spirit dies.
If you can rise beyond its spell,
You're half-divine—and free as well.



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



Rise Above

A vile, corrupted little sphere,
Where Lies and Profit rule through Fear.
Rise higher than its dark fa;ade—
And you'll become a demigod.



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



Kingdom of Stuff

Kingdom built on clothes and food—
Everywhere the strangling brood.
Boys grew old before their prime,
Snared one finger at a time.



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



The Consumer Kingdom

Realm of fashion, endless meals—
Every smile a tightening steel.
Boys turned old while chasing more,
Caught like hooks forevermore.



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



The Kingdom of Stuff

The Kingdom of Stuff, of clothes and feed—
A thousand little boas breed.
The boys grew old before their day,
Their fingers caught and worn away.



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



Realm of Stuff

Realm of clothes and endless chow—
Tiny boas rule it now.
Boys grow old before their time,
Snagged by trifles, one by one, in line.



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



A Trickle

Instinct comes
In just a stream;
Folly floods
Like a raging dream.

Frown or laugh—
It changes naught:
Stupidity
Will doom the world.



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



The Flood

Insight trickles,
Thin and slow;
Folly surges,
Overflow.

Scowl or grin—
It makes no odds:
Human foolishness
Will bury us.



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



A Trickle of Truth

A trickle of instinct,
A torrent of fools.
Mock it or fear it—
The outcome still rules.

Frown if you wish,
Or laugh at the show:
Mindless stupidity
Brings Earth down below.



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



Intuition trickles thin;
Folly pours in mighty streams.
Frown or laugh—it changes nothing:
Stupidity destroys the Earth.



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



Blockheads

Blockheads like corks—
Dense to the core;
Sneaks everywhere,
Rotting the floor.

Fools by the thousands,
Vicious and blind;
Forests of idiots
Choke humankind.



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



Morons

Morons like stoppers—
Thick as can be.
Scumbags are swarming
Like one rotten sea.

Everywhere dimwits,
Base to the bone—
Forests of fools
Have wildly grown.



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



Forests of Fools

Jerks like corks—
Thick as a brick.
Scumbags abound,
Greasy and slick.

Everywhere dullards,
Vile to the core;
Forests of idiots—
Growing once more.







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



Пора ставить точку

Фашизм. Геноцид.
Народ недобит?
Коль ум и духовность
В оценке, условность
Фасадов похеря, —
ДОбит!!! Настежь двери
В НИЧТОЖНОСТЬ открыты:
Личины, убиты
В которых Явь, Свет —
Господствует Бред.
Скажи Аду "нет!",
Ища и борясь,
Тлетворную мразь
Врагом называя
И впредь не лажая
В обманах и страхе.
Опаснее плахи
Убогая жизДнь —
Так в Духе очнись,
Презревши всю слизь.
Народ или слизни
Под солью — на тризне
По Духу, Уму в
Потворстве Дерьму?!
Дерьму Мировому —
То Лагерь с Дурдомом
В одной оболочке.
Пора ставить точку
В участии в этом,
Иль сдохнешь под Бредом...




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



Гонка псевдожизни с финишем в Маразме

Жёлтая майка —
Первый до пайки.
Майка в горошек —
Чушью раскрошат:
Ложь словно горы —
Всякого вздора
В гонке немало.
Много пропало
Гонщиков хилых —
Проще, дебилов.
Финиш в Маразме.
Судьи в сарказме —
Прыти хоть много,
Гонка убога:
Часть пелотона —
Мразь, мудозвоны —
Тянут-потянут
Мало и вянут
С этим надежды
Вусмерть невежду
Каждую гонкой
Выжать. Подонки
Прячутся ловко,
Видно сноровку
Им выживать
Втюхала мать.
Глупый отец
Финиш-****ец
Мало восславил.
Множество правил:
Все чтоб уесть
Силы, отместь
Проблески смысла:
Люди-не числа
Без номеров
Малый улов
ТВАРЯМ. Таков
Спорт-псевдожизнь.
Гонщик, очнись —
Выйди из гонки:
Судьи — подонки,
Жилы уж тонки.
Жизнь — в самоволке!..




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



Фашизм. Геноцид.
Скопление гнид —
В них разум убит.
И гнить с ними — Стыд.



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



Простота и Мутота,
Страх, безумье, Маета —
Все в загоне для скота.
Стал загоном целый мир.
Превращение в сортир,
То есть в Лагерь Цифровой
Для ущербных головой
Называется "прогресс".
Всё сильнее ТВАРЕЙ пресс —
Правит миром Скрытный Бес,
Запустивший весь процесс.
Днесь Разумность как эксцесс...
Путь в неё — Загона без
Оставаться и пытаться
Чрез Возвышенность спасаться.


Вариант второй строки. Ложь, безумье, Маета —



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



Ошейник раба —
И дело труба:
Удавка додавит —
Ума не оставит.




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



Вонь СМРАДов

Дерьмо мирка
Для дурака —
От вони резь:
Очнись — не грезь!




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



Рабский говнострой

Приднестровское говно —
Тупо, мерзко и срамно.
Где найти такое! ДНО?!
Впрочем, БЫДЛУ всё равно...



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



ДНО. Говно. Исхода нет:
Всё иное чушь иль бред.
И единственный ответ
Мраку псевдожизни — Свет.
Он ВНУТРИ. Снаружи Тьма —
Мир в Говне сошёл с ума.



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



Time to Draw the Line

Fascism. Genocide.
Has the people truly died?
When the mind and soul are weighed
By fa;ades that merely fade,
Truth is crushed beneath the show—
Finish them! The gates swing low,
Wide to Nothingness they yawn,
Masks remain, but Life is gone.
Reason's light has disappeared;
Madness now is crowned and cheered.

Tell the Hell, "I won't comply!"
Seek the Truth, resist the Lie.
Name corruption as your foe,
Never let deception grow.
Fear and falsehood breed defeat;
Far more cruel than death's own seat
Is a crippled life in chains—
Wake in Spirit, break the reins!
Cast the slimy sludge aside;
Will the people still abide

Like mere slugs beneath the salt,
Mourning Mind through their own fault,
Selling Soul to filth and shame,
Serving Evil without name?
Global filth has built its throne—
Madhouse fused with prison stone,
Locked inside a single frame.

Now it's time to end the game.
Leave this nightmare while you may,
Or be buried by Delusion's sway.

---

Ending variant

Now it's time to draw the line.
Leave this rotten grand design—
Or beneath Delusion's weight
You will meet a fool's dead fate.



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



The Pseudo-Life Race Ends in Madness

The yellow jersey—
First to the mercy
Of rations and praise.
The polka-dot craze
Crumbles to nonsense;
Mountains of pretense,
Hills built of Lies,
Clouding all eyes.

Many have fallen—
Weak riders, all broken,
Or fools, to be plain,
Left on the terrain.
The finish is Madness.
The judges, with gladness,
Mock every climb;
The race is a crime.

Half the peloton—
Frauds carrying on,
Scoundrels who shove,
Pretending they love
Victory's gleam,
Yet draining the dream
Out of each rider,
Making minds lighter—

Empty of reason,
Harvesting treason.
Every new stage
Squeezes the sage
Out of the crowd,
Leaving the loud.

The bastards conceal
Their practiced appeal;
Survival, it seems,
Was nursed with their schemes.
A foolish old sire
Blessed the Grand Mire,
Praising the end—
Ruin, my friend.

Rules without number
Keep minds locked under,
Crushing each spark,
Dragging to dark.
Humans aren't digits,
Tags, codes, or widgets;
Numbers can't measure
Spirit's true treasure.

Small is the gain
Won by the Vile—
Such is the style
Of pseudo-life's race.

Rider, awake!
Break free for your sake.
Leave this grim track;
Don't you look back.
The judges are swine,
Your strength wears thin.
Life starts the moment
You quit—and begin.



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



Rock Bottom

Rock bottom. Filth. There is no way.
All else is nonsense, lies astray.
One answer only meets the Night
Of pseudo-life: the Inner Light.

It burns within. Outside—Dark reigns.
A world gone mad, sunk deep in stains.



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



The Only Way

Rock bottom. Filth. No exit's found.
All else is madness spun around.
One answer breaks the endless Night:
The Light within—the Spirit's Light.

It shines inside. Outside is Doom.
The world's gone mad in filth and gloom.



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



No Way Out?

Rock bottom. Filth. No way to flee.
The rest is sham insanity.
One answer stands against the Night
Of pseudo-life—the Inner Light.

Within it lives. Without—Dark's claim.
The world sank deep in filth and shame.



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



Slave's Collar

A slave's tight collar—
No hope to follow.
The noose will squeeze you dry,
And strangle mind goodbye.



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



The Slave's Collar

A slave's collar—
Your fate grows smaller.
The noose will choke you through,
Till thought deserts you too.



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



Collared

The slave's own collar—
A fatal halter.
The noose will crush your will,
Your mind falls deathly still.



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




Slave's collar—
Death's own caller.
The noose will choke you blind,
Until it kills your mind.



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



Progress?

Simple minds and murky thought,
Fear and madness, cheaply bought—
All are herded, all are penned;
Now the whole world's reached that end.

Earth's transformed into a drain,
Into one vast Digital Pen,
Built for those who proudly trade
Thought itself for dull parade.

This is hailed as "Progress" still.
Monsters tighten every will.
Hidden Evil rules the game,
Pulling every secret chain.

Reason now's a dangerous crime,
Out of step with modern time.
There's one road that still is true:
Leave the cattle pen behind.

Seek the heights, refuse the mire;
Save your soul by climbing higher.



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



The Digital Pen

Simple slogans. Murky lies.
Fear that never truly dies.
Madness penned in cattle's den—
Now the whole world's one vast pen.

Every street becomes a drain,
Every screen—a Digital Chain.
Those who mock the thinking head
Call this "progress" straight ahead.

Monsters press with growing force;
Hidden Devils steer the course.
Reason now's condemned as sin—
Wisdom cannot enter in.

Only one escape remains:
Walk away from all their chains.
Rise above the crawling mass;
Only Spirit's heights will last.



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




Fascism. Genocide.
A vermin tide.
Their minds have died.
To rot with them—a shame.



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




Fascism. Genocide.
A swarm of vermin, hollow-eyed.
Their reason long since bled away;
To share their rot is shame's own way.



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




Fascism. Genocide.
Vermin multiplied.
Reason crucified.
Rot with them?—No pride.



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




Fascism. Genocide.
A nest where maggots hide.
Their minds are dead inside.
To rot with them is shame.



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



Slave-Built Filth

Transnistrian filth—
Shameful to the hilt.
Where can lower bottom grow?
Yet the herd just doesn't know.



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



The Slave-Made Cesspit

Transnistria's cesspit—
Vile from every aspect.
Can there be a lower low?
The herd shrugs on—it doesn't know.



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



The Bottom

Transnistria's foul decay—
Shameful every single way.
Can the Bottom sink still low?
Not that cattle care or know.



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



Slave-Built Sewer

Transnistria's sewer—
Viler than before.
Where's a deeper Bottom?—Nowhere.
Yet the herd cares not one whit.

---

Variant of the last line

Yet the herd couldn't care less.



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




Transnistria's filth—
Shame to every breath.
Where's a deeper Bottom?—None.
Yet the herd just carries on.



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



The Stench of Media

Filth for the fool,
Their favorite fuel.
The stench cuts deep—
Wake up! Don't sleep!



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



Media Stink

Garbage for fools—
That's how it rules.
The stench won't cease.
Wake up from dreams!



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



The Media's Reek

Filth fills the air
For fools to share.
The stench won't end—
Wake up, my friend!



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



Media Stench

Filth for the fool.
That's their rule.
The stench runs deep—
Wake up. Don't sleep.







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



"Необходимость"

"Свобода — это есть осознанная необходимость".
Бенедикт Спиноза, XVII-ый век.


"Необходимость" верить, лгать,
И этим Душу предавать —
Рабов "свобода" для уродов.
От этого кругом невзгоды.

Предавши раз, продашь остатки
Ума потом — строй рабский хваткий:
Всё высосет он чрез покорность,
"Необходимость", страх и вздорность

Тлетворных схем для поведенья —
Их целю Духа убиенье.
Бездушному необходимо
В Тотальном Зле "прожить счастливо".

И примет всё урод позорный:
Строй рабский дикий, тошнотворный
Меняет лишь в веках названья,
Фасады, мемы, истязанья.

В года говнида всех "заботой"
Замордовали: идиоты
Поверили дебильной сказке,
Надев намордник по указке.

Намордник, цепи — что похлеще?
Когда "народ" умом не блещет,
Впендюрят враки "терроризьма",
Маразм фашизма и рашизма.

Рашизм "свободы" путь, а "светоч" —
Двойник позорный. Словно ветошь
В мазуте мажет пропаганда
Дебилов чушью. Тварей банда

В отстойник Рашку превратила,
Но снова верят в Чушь дебилы,
В "необходимости" покорно
Идя на смерть. Та смерть позорна —

Такой же русский с автоматом
Встречает дурней. А расплата —
Ужесточение режима.
Но впрочем, "заживём счастливо"

В Всемирном Лагере на Цифре,
Коль истощим все силы. Влипли
Рабы во всём гнилом мирке:
Бездушным в Лагерь налегке

Без мыслей, совести и чести
Идти. Не гражданин — груз двести,
Покорный Злу тупой мертвяк,
В зашкале страха, в буре врак

Сам уничтожит все остатки
Ума в мирке. Дебилы хватки
Похлеще строя, коль "покоя"
Желают, пр`иняв Зло ЛЮБОЕ.

Одна надежда — Катаклизм:
Сметёт уродов за фашизм,
"Необходимость", Злу покорность.
"Свобода" вечно — иллюзорность.




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



Типа "любовь"

"Любовь" к уродам и природе,
"Отечеству" как смрадный дым,
Похеря вечные невзгоды,
Что с детства  Мерзостью гнобим

Забыв, шизоида услада.
Но лицемерная она.
Не может раб таких же гадов
Любить во Лжи, в Маразме ДНА.

На ДНЕ, в говне, "любовь" в цене
Во СМРАДах, в школах: охмурять
Без "позитивы" на войне
С Умом и Духом трудно. Врать

Сложнее дурочкам: они
Пищат от разных "сюси-мусь".
Размножатся тупые пни
И сыновьям кричат: "Не трусь!

Иди за Родину, Любовь
В с соседями смертельный бой!"
И льётся идиотов кровь
Веками. Ушлых СМРАДов вой

Создаст "врага" за пять минут,
Когда любви в помине нет.
А НЕНАВИДЯЩИМ наврут
Легко, втемяшив Дикий Бред.

Коль рабство сплошь, тупая вошь
Враждебностью напоена:
Похерено "меня не трожь" —
Уродцам ДНА как дань война.

Простой итог: с рогами бог
В "заботах" Ложью приведёт
Позорный мир, что туп, убог,
В Всемирный Лагерь. Там — в расход.




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



Одинокий глас поэта
Средь насилья, лжи и бреда
Возвышается, неслышим:
Вонью СМРАДов в страхе дышим.




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



Кормовое Стадо

Кот — он настоящий.
Ум хоть не блестящий,
В корень зрит, бродяга, —
Не баран в овраге.

Овцы — типа люди:
Пищею на блюде
Стали. Скрытных ТВАРЕЙ
В мерзкой лживой мари

Видят единицы.
Им гаввах не мнится:
С детства оглупленье,
Духа разложенье

Привели к оттоку
Сил. Всё меньше проку
От овец дебильных
Павших, слабосильных:

Не гаввах — водица,
Трудно Злу напиться.
Скоро уничтожат —
Новый вид размножат.

Будет он сильнее,
А ТВАРЬЁ наглее
Пить гаввах. Загоном
Мир давно. Уроном

Меряется жизДня.
Так очнись на тризне
По Уму и Духу:
Быть продажной сукой

Невозможно дале:
Все и так пропали —
Ниже ДНИЩА пали.
Успокоят врали,

Но не Катаклизм.
Скоро за фашизм
Уничтожит Стадо —
Злу покорных гадов.

Впрочем, так и надо...
Кормовое Стадо...




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



ЖизДня

Гадов надо урезонить,
А не дальше мудозвонить.
Не очнётся дебильё,
Потому Враньё, Гнильё
Всюду — Ад земной: паскуды
Издеваются сильнее,
Их "законы" бьют больнее.
СМРАДы воют: "ЖизДнь вольнее".
Невозможно уж тупее
Быть — во Зле с позором гнить.
Для дебила это — жить.




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



Не спасти...

Уёбища-стыдобища,
Которых большинство,
А мир — большое пастбище
С Загоном. Естество

Животное: корова,
Но с примесью шакала.
Наврут гурту по-новой:
Разумность сплошь пропала,

И сделают что хошь,
Довольные собой.
Одно "меня не трожь!"
В "сознаньи". Головой

Работают как челюстью —
Иное атавизм —
И лже-болезней "прелести",
А далее рашизм

Восприняли как должное,
К тому ж включив азарт
Шакала. Что-то сложное —
В "сознаньи" шах и мат.

И Стада оцифровкой
Занялся Скрытный Бес.
Подкожною обновкой
Доволен тот, кто без —

Сознания и Духа,
Раз есть что пожевать,
Столь в мире с Духом глухо,
Что поздно Хлев спасать...




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



Мир-перевёртыш

"Когда вспоминаешь, что все мы сумаcшедшие, странное в жизни исчезает и всё становится понятным".
Марк Твен.


"Кристальная ясность" советского строя,
Годов "перестройки", рашизма теперь:
Безумие всюду, всегда, а иное
Талантов удел. В перевёртыше дверь

Откроется в детстве. Втолкнут непременно,
И будешь годами затем выяснять,
Зачем маскируются под "перемены"
Отрыжки Режима, ведь проще стращать.

Тотальное рабство, что длится веками,
Не может насильем держаться одним.
Поэтому надо рабов дураками
С младенчества сделать. Безумьем гнобим

Здесь каждый, поэтому дурь в многих в шизу
Затем превращается: мир весь — дурдом.
От верха Дурдома до самого низу
Стремятся шизоидов сделать скотом.

Невидима сила, что СМРАДы, программы
Всегда контролирует, ложью сильна.
И ей надоели безумные хамы —
Чрез скотство опустят до самого ДНА.

Успехи большие: шмурдяк и намордник
В психозе говнида всем дали понять,
Что если ты против МАРАЗМА — негодник,
Которого можно безумцем назвать.

Больные на голову "лечат" здоровых,
А далее "скрепы" на бойню ведут.
Закончится это. Наврут всем по-новой —
И снова на бойни и в нищенский труд.

Дурдом плюс Загон. Ну а далее Лагерь
Всемирный, надёжнейший — сплошь цифровой.
Крест красный на капитуляции флаге —
По-белому мочат, бодряческий вой.

Исход не безумцу один — отрешенье
И поиски к Духа Истоку Пути:
В зашкале безумие и разложенье —
Со стадом в Концлагерь не стоит идти.



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



Центрируйся в Духе

Система в маразме.
Кто мыслит — в сарказме.
Один вопрос: разве
Достойно гнить в пастве
Рогатого бога?
Подмочена тога,
Но санкция стр`ога.
Тошнотно, убого.
Лжи, страхов так много
Средь Ада Земного,
Барака чумного,
Что к Смерти дорога —
Единственный путь,
Чтоб скинуть всю Жуть.
Грядёт Катаклизм.
За рабство, фашизм,
Он Ад уничтожит,
Тем Ложь подытожит.
Тотальная Ложь
Системы. В ней вошь
Любой, даже бес,
Что на "олимп" влез.
Духовности без
Лишь демон воскрес.
Центрируйся в Духе —
И н`ахуй все суки,
Все Ада докуки.



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



Чума безумия и слабоумия

Чепушилы и дебилы:
Строй фашистский копит силы
Для атаки на разумных —
Нет проходу от безумных,
И подохнешь сам средь чумных.
То намордник показал —
НЕКТО с голоду пропал...




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



Мент — последний аргумент:
Ложь тотальная сильней.
Что ж, пока лови момент
Передышки: Ложь больней

Снова вдарит, и к тому
Будет множество причин.
Места нет в _Дерьме уму
(_Средь убогих дурачин) —

Это главная, всегда:
Вновь пустыми невода...



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



Бюрократия, или Как бы чего не вышло

Чтоб чего не вышло:
Сплошь "законов" дышло
Бьёт, гнобя дебилов,
Отнимая силы,
Забирая время.
В креслах сучье племя
Словно на театре.
Трудность в психиатре:
Где тварью диагноз?!
Мир пошёл вразнос:
Чушь как пылесос
Высосет остатки
Сил — чинуша хваткий.



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



Bureaucracy, or Better Safe Than Sorry

“Better safe than sorry”—
That’s the tyrant’s story.
Rules with twisted meaning
Keep the fools careening,
Drain their strength away,
Steal each precious day.
In their cushioned chairs,
Vermin strike grand airs.
Who will dare proclaim
Madness by its name?
Sanity has fled—
Common sense lies dead.
Nonsense, like a drain,
Sucks what strength remains,
While the grasping clerk
Feeds upon your work.



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



Bureaucracy, or Nothing Must Go Wrong

Nothing must go wrong—
That’s the bureaucrat’s song.
Every crooked law
Keeps the weak in awe,
Robbing time and will
With relentless skill.
From their padded thrones,
Vipers gnaw the bones.
Where’s the doctor’s pen
To diagnose such men?
Reason’s torn apart,
Madness rules the heart.
Like a vacuum's roar,
Absurdity wants more,
Till the last reserves
Feed official worms.



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



Life in Lies

The vermin must be brought to heel,
Not drowned in speeches void of zeal.
The fools will never wake or see—
So Lies and Rot reign endlessly.
Hell on earth is all around,
Where scoundrels grind the helpless down.
Their "laws" strike harder every day,
While media loudly bray:
"Life is freer! Life is bright!"
Never has there been such blight.
To rot in Evil, stripped of pride—
They call that life... and live the lie.



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



Pseudo-Life

The vermin must be forced to yield,
Not fed with chatter as a shield.
The fools refuse to face the Light,
So Rot and Falsehood win the fight.
Earth has turned to Hell below;
Crueler still the tyrants grow.
Every "law" inflicts more pain,
While the media scream again:
"Freedom grows! Rejoice! You're free!"
Nothing could be more empty.
Rotting deep in evil's pit—
Fools call that a life... and fit.



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



The Herd for Slaughter

A cat is truly wise—
No genius in disguise,
Yet sees beneath the skin,
Unlike the sheep penned in.

Sheep pretend they're men,
Served upon the tray, and then
Lost within the lying haze
Where hidden monsters rule the maze.

Only few can truly see
What lurks beneath reality.
Gavvah is no empty dream—
They feed upon the human stream.

From childhood, minds are bent,
The soul grows weak and spent.
Strength is drained away each year;
The flock grows dull with fear.

Not enough gavvah now—
Only water fills the trough.
Evil cannot drink its fill;
Soon they'll breed a stronger will.

A newer breed they'll raise,
Sharper for the coming days,
While the beasts grow bold once more,
Drinking gavvah to the core.

Long the world's a fenced corral;
Life is measured by the fall.
Wake before the funeral pyre
Of your Spirit's last desire.

Selling out is all in vain—
All have sunk below disdain,
Lower than the lowest deep.
Liars sing the flock to sleep,

Yet no lie will halt the storm.
When Cataclysm takes its form,
Fascism's faithful flock shall fall—
Slaves of Evil, one and all.

So perhaps it had to be...
Nothing but a Feeding Herd.

---

Variations of the last two lines.

Perhaps that's justice after all—
A Herd that's bred to feed and fall.

or

Perhaps that's all the herd was for:
To feed the beasts... and be no more.



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



The Final Argument

The cop's the final argument—
For Lies are stronger still.
So seize the moment while you can,
Before they break your will.

Soon the blows will fall once more,
Each with some "official" cause.
In this world of filth and rot,
Reason finds no place at all—

Not among the witless crowd,
Lost beneath deception's shroud.
That's the oldest truth we know:
Every net comes empty home.



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



Last Resort

The cop's the final proof of Lies—
Their empire still prevails.
So breathe while fortune grants a pause
Before oppression sails.

Soon they'll strike with greater force,
Always with a grand excuse.
Mind has no abode in muck,
Where fools embrace abuse.

That has always been the key:
Empty nets from every sea.



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



The World Turned Upside Down

"When one remembers that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."
— Mark Twain


The Soviet order, so "crystal-clear,"
The years of "reforms," today's dark reign—
One truth remains: insanity's here,
While reason belongs to a gifted brain.

The door to inversion swings open in youth;
You're pushed through its threshold before you can choose.
Then years are consumed searching after the truth:
Why tyrannies change into fresh-looking ruses.

For slavery lasting through centuries' flight
Can never survive upon violence alone.
The masters must cripple the mind from first light,
Till fools are the harvest their empire has sown.

Thus madness engulfs every soul from the start;
Delusion matures into full-blown disease.
The madhouse extends through each province and heart,
Where people are fashioned as cattle with ease.

Invisible hands pull the strings every day,
Controlling the media, shaping each lie.
Yet even these servants are thrown away,
Dragged down to the depths where all dignity dies.

Their triumph was plain: every muzzle, each shot,
The CowID panic, the fear and disgrace.
Oppose the absurd—and you're branded unsound,
Declared an outcast to be put in your place.

The sick now prescribe every cure for the sane,
Then slogans drive millions to slaughter once more.
It ends... yet the cycle begins yet again:
Fresh lies, fresh campaigns, fresh blood on the floor.

A madhouse. A cattle pen. Then comes the Camp—
Worldwide and digital, flawless in scope.
The white flag bears surrender's crimson stamp,
While cheerful chants extinguish the last hope.

One path still remains for the soul left awake:
Step out of the madness, refuse to conform.
Seek Spirit's own Source for your own spirit's sake—
Don't march with the herd toward the camp in the storm.



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



Beyond Saving…

Grotesque, disgracing creatures—
The overwhelming horde.
The world's one giant pasture now,
A fenced and guarded ward.

A beast beneath the skin,
A cow with jackal's grin.
The herd believes each fresh deceit;
Its reason's growing thin.

Then anything will do—
They're happy as they are.
"Just don't you bother me!"
Their only guiding star.

Their heads are built for chewing,
Not thinking deep at all.
The mind has long grown vestigial;
False plagues become the call.

Then rashism comes as "normal,"
Accepted without shame.
The jackal's thrill awakens—
The outcome stays the same.

Whatever's truly difficult
Defeats the vacant brain.
It's checkmate in their "consciousness"—
Delusion rules again.

The Hidden Fiend keeps digitizing
Every sheep in line.
Subcutaneous "upgrades"
Seem perfectly benign

To those devoid of Spirit,
Whose minds have long grown numb.
As long as fodder fills the trough,
No higher thoughts will come.

The Spirit's voice is silent now,
Its echoes fade away.
The barn is past all saving...
Too late to stop decay.

---

Variant of the last stanza

The Spirit's voice is lost at last,
No soul remains to save.
The barn has crossed the point of no return—
It marches to its grave.



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



"Necessity"

"Freedom is the recognition of necessity."
— Baruch Spinoza, 17th century


"Necessity" to trust the lie,
To sell your soul, your truth deny—
Such is the freedom slaves embrace,
A prison masked by borrowed grace.

Betray yourself a single time,
The mind soon follows in decline.
The system drinks your strength away
Through fear, obedience, and dismay.

It breeds corrupting codes of thought,
Where Spirit's death is cheaply bought.
The soulless need but one desire:
To thrive while sinking ever higher

Into a kingdom built on chains.
Its banners change, its outward names,
Its slogans, idols, flags, and guise—
The core remains the selfsame lies.

The CowID years proved the plan:
They muzzled woman, child, and man.
So many swallowed fear on cue,
And wore the mask because they knew...

Or thought they knew. Then came the chain.
What follows next? The same old game:
New tales of terror fill the air,
While fascist madness blossoms there.

Rashism calls itself "the free,"
Its beacon shines dishonestly.
Propaganda, black as tar,
Smears every mind, both near and far.

A gang of beasts transformed the land
Into a festering wasteland.
Yet fools believe each tale once more,
And march obedient into war.

To meet another, just the same,
With rifle raised in someone else's name.
The price is always paid in blood—
The chains grow tighter than they should.

"Tomorrow life will bloom," they say,
Inside the Camp of the Digital Age.
When strength is spent and hope is gone,
The perfect prison marches on.

The soulless enter without pain,
No conscience left, no thoughts remain.
Not citizens—but nameless dead,
By fear and endless falsehood led.

They help destroy the final spark
Of reason in the gathering dark.
The fools defend their prison walls,
Believing peace is worth it all—

Accepting every evil's claim,
Provided comfort bears its name.

One hope remains: Cataclysm.
To sweep away triumphant lies,
Submission, fascist dogma's reign,
And "Necessity"'s gilded chain.

For freedom built on fear and fraud
Was never freedom before God.



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



The Lonely Voice

A poet's lonely, steadfast cry,
Amidst the madness, fraud, and lie,
Rises high—but none will hear:
Media's stench keeps breathing fear.



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



The Poet's Cry

One poet's voice ascends in vain
Above the lies, the fear, the pain.
Yet none can hear its truthful plea—
The media's stench won't let us breathe.



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



One lonely poet calls aloud
Above the falsehood of the crowd.
His words are lost, dissolved by fear—
The stench of media fills the air.



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



So-Called "Love"

Their "love" for nature, land, and race
Is but a mask, a foul disgrace.
Since childhood, filth has warped the soul,
Till madness swallows every whole.

The schizophrenic finds delight
In lies that smother inner light.
A slave cannot sincerely love
While trapped in fraud he's dreaming of.

Down in the mire, deep in the slime,
"Love" is praised all of the time.
Schools and media sing the tune—
To fool the masses all too soon.

Without such sweetness, sugar-coated,
War on Mind stays less promoted.
So they coo and softly plead,
Planting every fatal seed.

Then mindless stumps produce their sons
And urge them on with beating drums:
"Don't be afraid! For Home! For Love!"
March out beneath the flags above.

So idiots have bled for ages,
Driven by propagandist pages.
The media conjure foes at will—
Five minutes... and the hate can kill.

Where love has long since disappeared,
The hateful heart is easily steered.
Wild delusions flood the brain;
The lie becomes a binding chain.

When all is slavery and fear,
Each louse sees enemies appear.
"Leave me alone" no longer lives—
War is the tribute darkness gives.

The ending's simple: horned deceit,
Disguised as care, makes fraud complete.
This broken world, so dull and blind,
Will march into one Camp designed...

Where human lives are spent like dust,
Consumed by lies, betrayal, lust.

---

Variant of the last two stanzas

Where slavery is all that's known,
Each parasite breeds hate alone.
"Just leave me be" has long since died—
War is the tax of poisoned pride.

The horned god, beneath false care,
Leads all by fraud into despair.
This crippled world, deceived and numb,
Marches toward the Camp to come.



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



Center Yourself in Spirit

The system's insane.
The thinkers remain
With sarcasm alone.
One question is thrown:

Is rotting as sheep
Beneath the Horned One
A fate worth to keep?
His judgment is done.

The robe's stained with lies,
Yet sentence is grim.
The world's foul disguise
Is rotten and dim.

So many fears,
So many lies
Fill Earth's living Hell
Before our eyes.

A plague-ridden pen,
A deathward trail—
The only escape
From horror's veil.

Cataclysm comes.
For slavery,
For fascist rule,
For tyranny,

It sweeps Hell away,
Exposing the lie.
The system was built
On fraud from the start.

One louse is the same
As every "great" lord;
Without any Spirit,
A demon's restored.

So center in Spirit.
Let darkness depart.
To Hell with the jackals—
Protect your own heart.

---

Variants of the last stanza

Center yourself in Spirit.
Let all demons rage.
To hell with Hell's vermin—
Step out of their cage.

or

Stand centered in Spirit.
Let Hell howl in vain.
To hell with its jackals,
Its torment and chain.



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



The Plague of Madness and Folly

Fools and brainless parasites—
Fascism gathers all its might
To wage its war on those who think.
The mad surround you, never shrink.

No passage through this plague you'll find;
You'll perish with the witless blind.
The muzzle proved the whole charade—
Some starved... while Someone watched the game.



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



Plague of the Mind

Idiots and fools abound;
Fascism gathers, tightly wound.
Every thinking soul's a foe—
Madness leaves no room to grow.

Soon you'll fall among the cursed,
Victim of the plague's dark thirst.
Masks revealed what few could see:
Someone starved... deliberately.







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



Отчаянье поэта

Одинокий глас поэта
Пропадает в тишине.
Вроде силы больше нету
Шевелиться в сём Говне,

Но чрез паузу вернётся
Ритм и рифмы поведёт.
Он в Дерьмище не согнётся —
Смысл в ОТЧАЯНЬИ найдёт.

Без отчаянья не Лира —
Просто кляча с грудой слов.
С ним словами как секирой
Рубит головы ослов.

В виртуале? В тонком плане! —
Лира родом из него.
Посреди фашисткой срани,
Где МАРАЗМА торжество,

Одинокий глас поэта
Слышим только в Вышине —
Как отпор засилью Бреда
В подлой с Разумом войне.

Показал психоз говнида,
Что война вовсю идёт.
Не молчащему не стыдно,
Остальные — ушлый сброд:

Ищут "счастье" средь Сортира
Мирового. СМРАДов вонь
Режет глаз. И только Лира
Возвышает Глас. Уволь

В соглашательстве прикончить
Честь и совесть, ум и Дух,
Оказавшись в стае гончих —
Борзописцев, ТВАРЕЙ слуг.

Одинокий глас поэта
Исчезает в тишине:
Рядом Смерть; спасенье это —
В Вышине, а не на ДНЕ.



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



Чинуши и гражданины — "сладкие" парочки

Служивый люд —
В мыслишках блуд:
Придуркам врут
И в мозг ебут.




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



Елитка

"Светский" календарь.
Под личиной тварь.
Словоблуд как царь —
Дальше ложью жарь.




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



Аусвайс в райские кущи

Как в райские кущи фашистский режим
Заслон из бумажек опять создаёт.
Склоняется дурень, уёбством гнобим,
И вновь по кругам чинуш ада бредёт.




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



Жизнь

Большая Жопа мира дрыщет
Поносом лжи, а геноцид
С фашизмом — газы. Скребень ищет
В Пердульне счастье, калом сыт.




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



Доказуха вновь сломалась —
Чернь на Ложь опять попалась:
Миром правит Утверждалка
Без словесной перепалки —
Лишь спектакли. Чернь не жалко —
Лишь за "счастьем" чешет валко...




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



Глобальное потепление и барановирус

Намордники! надели —
Что газы, в самом деле,
Не могут обуздать?!
Тварьё, не надо врать:
Сильнее Солнце светит —
Так Ра все шельмы метит,
И каждая ответит
За всё. За то, что в клети
Содержит весь мирок,
Падёт Рогатый Бог.
Лет семьдесят светимость
Растёт. Мирка голимость
Показана говнидом —
Лишь лгать умеют гниды,
Рогатого под****ки.
А ты на перекрёстке:
В Духовный Мир, иль гадом
В Ад Новый. Дальше падать
Уж некуда мирку —
Лишь в Новый. Дураку
Опять трындят про газы,
Террор и лже-заразы,
Чтоб лучше убаюкать,
И — в Лагерь, ухайдокать.




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



Воспоминания и предсказания старого актёра

Играл на сцене роль уёбка,
Дегенератом — режиссёр. 
Актёры тупы, словно пробка.
Продюсер — пьяный пошлый вор.

Театр — весь мир. Оплатит пьесу,
Хихикая, голимый чёрт,
Не смысля в пьесе ни бельмеса,
Ведь разум чёрта напрочь стёрт.

Сценарий пишет шизофреник,
Софиты наведёт слепой,
Движенья ставит неврастеник,
А песни сочинил глухой.

Дебилы-зрители в партере,
Ублюдки под покровом лож,
Но каждый в ахинею верит,
Заворожён мельканьем рож.

А тупость текста в исступленье
Введёт любого, кто умён,
Но так как "нормой" разложенье
Ума и Духа, мудозвон

Вполне доволен. Новой пьесой
Усилится маразм "Окей!",
А умным не найдётся места
Средь говорящих овощей.




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



Ку-клукс-клан... Не негр, а белый,
Цель ТВАРЬЯ, что мир гнобит.
Чрез расизм оно умело
От проблемы отвратит

Мысли белого ушлёпка,
Завезя в Европу массу
Инородцев. Будет трёпка
Белых по ТВАРЬЯ приказу...




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



Лента Мёбиуса для барана

Кот найдёт дорогу к дому.
А баран идёт к Дурдому:
Север, запад, юг, восток
Направлением — итог
Одинаков. Мир — Дурдом.
Ныне делают скотом...




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



Pass to Paradise

To paradise groves the fascist command
Builds paper barricades, higher each day.
The fool bows low at bureaucracy's hand,
Then trudges through hell where officials hold sway.



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



Passport to Paradise

As though into Eden, the tyrants decree
A fortress of documents, forms, and control.
The fool, crushed by slavish conformity,
Keeps circling hell where the clerks take their toll.



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



A Pass to Heaven

As if into Heaven, the fascists proclaim,
A wall made of papers blocks every gate.
The fool, bent and broken by cowardly shame,
Must wander through offices, cursed by his fate.



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



Memories and Prophecies of an Old Actor

I played the fool upon the stage,
The director—a witless clown.
The actors, dumb as blocks of wood;
The producer—a drunk renown.

The theatre? Why, the whole world's stage.
A snickering devil pays the fee,
Who grasps no word upon the page—
His mind erased completely.

The script's composed by one insane,
The lights are aimed by one stone-blind,
A nervous wreck directs each scene,
A deaf man leaves the songs behind.

The audience—morons in their seats,
Base bastards hiding under lies;
Yet every fool believes deceit,
Enchanted by the masked disguise.

The nonsense of the written lines
Would drive a thinking soul berserk;
But since decay of heart and mind
Is hailed as "normal" by the herd,

The pompous fool applauds with pride:
"Fantastic! Encore! What a play!"
While every fresh performance spreads
More madness, day by weary day.

And those who still can think and see
Will find no place, no voice, no way,
Among the talking vegetables
That chatter all their lives away.



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



Global Warming and the Sheep Virus

Masks on!—so we're all commanded.
Can gases not be reprimanded?
Enough of all your lies and fraud—
The Sun burns brighter. Mark of Ra!

Its blazing light brands every cheat;
No rogue will dodge the final seat.
Each one will answer, every fraud,
When falls the Horned Pretender-God.

For seventy years the Sun's grown bright;
Yet CowID exposed the blight:
The vermin only know deceit,
The Horned One's lackeys—base, elite.

Now at the crossroads stands your soul:
The Spirit's path—or darkness' hole.
Beyond this pit no lower lies,
Save Hell reborn in fresh disguise.

Again they preach of carbon's sin,
Of plagues contrived and fear within;
Of climate doom and phantom scares,
To lull mankind with false affairs.

Then into camps—the final goal—
To chain the body, break the soul;
While sheep obey with downcast eyes,
Still swallowing the selfsame lies.



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




Proof has failed once more today—
Still the herd believes the play.
Claims alone now rule the land;
No debate, just sleight of hand.

Only spectacles remain;
Pity for the herd is vain.
Slowly shuffling, dull and blind,
"Chasing happiness" they grind.



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




Evidence has crashed again—
Still the mob applauds the sham.
Assertions rule without a word;
Truth is never seen or heard.

Nothing but a staged display;
None will mourn the mindless prey.
Toward their "happiness" they creep,
Like obedient grazing sheep.



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




Proof collapsed—but who's to care?
Crowds still swallow falsehood's snare.
Bare assertions wear the crown;
Reason's voice is shouted down.

Only theatre fills the day;
No one minds the mindless clay.
After "happiness" they plod,
Driven like a senseless squad.



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



The Glitterati

Society's calendar—
A beast beneath the grace.
A babbler wears the crown;
Keep feeding lies apace.



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



The Elite

The social calendar.
A monster hides its face.
The loudmouth reigns as king—
Now pile on lies with grace.



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



High Society

The social season gleams;
A beast behind the mask.
The windbag rules supreme—
More lies become the task.



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



Life

The world's great Arse spews endless streams
Of diarrheas made of lies.
Genocide and fascist schemes
Are sold as "saving" in disguise.

The fool still digs through Filthville's mire,
Content with excrement for bread;
He dreams that dung will lift him higher—
His soul already cold and dead.



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



Life

The world's huge Arse keeps spraying lies,
Like foul diarrhea without end.
Genocide and fascism rise
As poison sold to every friend.

The scraper seeks in Farting Town
His little bliss, debased and small;
Well fed on filth, he wears the crown
Of one who never sees the fall.



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



Life

The world's vast Arse lets falsehood pour,
A ceaseless flood of poisoned slime.
Genocide and fascist war
Belch toxic fumes in every clime.

The fool still hunts through Stinker's Hole,
His belly full of dung and pride;
He calls it happiness of soul—
Too blind to see he's dead inside.



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



Ku Klux Klan

Not the Black man—it's the White
Whom the fiends would break and bind.
Race is wielded, left and right,
To distract the public mind.

While the simple fool looks on,
Crowds are brought from every land;
Then the Whites are marched upon—
Just as masters always planned.



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



Ku Klux Klan

Not the Black—but White's the prey
Of the beasts that rule by fear.
Race is used to lead astray,
Keeping truth from drawing near.

Europe's flooded, wave on wave;
Thus the plot is brought to life.
White against white, slave on slave—
Ordered conflict, ordered strife.



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



Ku Klux Klan

Not the Black man bears the chain—
White's the target from the start.
Race becomes the chosen game
To divide the mind and heart.

Europe fills with stranger throngs;
Thus the script is played once more.
White pays dearly for the wrongs
Planned by those who pull the war.



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



A M;bius Strip for Sheep

A cat will always find its home;
A sheep to Bedlam's bound to roam.
North or south, west or east—
Every road ends at the feast

Of madness. This world's gone insane;
Today they herd mankind like cattle again.



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



The Sheep's M;bius Strip

A cat knows well the way back home;
A sheep seeks only Bedlam's dome.
North or west, south or east—
Every pathway ends the least

Bit differently: all roads lead
To madhouse gates—and human breed
Is turned to cattle, meek indeed.



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



M;bius Road

The cat goes home without a guide;
The sheep to Bedlam turns aside.
North or south, west or east—
Every journey ends the least

Changed at all: the world's insane,
Making cattle out of men.



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



A Poet's Despair

The poet's lonely, pleading voice
Falls silent in the endless night.
It seems no strength remains to rise
Above this sea of filth and blight.

Yet after silence comes the beat;
The rhyme returns to lead once more.
He will not kneel in heaps of waste—
Despair reveals what words are for.

Without despair there is no lyre,
Just worn-out verse and hollow sound.
With it, each line becomes an axe
To fell the asses all around.

In realms unseen, beyond our eyes,
The Lyre was born—and there belongs.
Amid fascistic filth below,
Where madness crowns triumphant throngs,

The poet's solitary cry
Is heard by Heaven's heights alone,
Defying all the reign of lies
In Reason's war against the drone.

CowID unmasked the mass psychosis:
The battle rages, fierce and plain.
The one who speaks need feel no shame—
The silent serve the liar's reign.

They seek "their bliss" in Earth's great sewer,
Where media's stench inflames the air.
The Lyre alone uplifts the Voice,
Refusing falsehood and despair.

Do not betray your heart and soul,
Your honor, conscience, mind, and flame,
To join the hounds who chase their prey—
The hack-for-hire, devoid of shame.

The poet's lonely, steadfast voice
Fades softly into silence then.
For Death stands near—but rescue waits
Above the depths, not down with men.



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



Bureaucrats and Citizens — A "Perfect Match"

Officials scheme,
Their thoughts unclean.
They fool the fools
And warp their dreams.



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



Bureaucrats and Citizens — A Sweet Pair

The civil crowd
Corrupts the mind.
They lie to fools
And keep them blind.



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



The Perfect Couple

The bureaucrats
Are twisted through.
They feed fools lies
And rot them too.



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



Bureaucrats and Citizens — A "Sweet Pair"

The servants lie,
With crooked minds.
They fool the fools,
And twist their minds.







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



Питание чертей

Люди? На блюде
Мясо и студень —
Пища Паскуде:
Ад, словоблуден.




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



Гурт скота, коль простота,
Выживанья маета,
Противленья — ни черта,
С искрой бога — один к ста.




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



Череда ублюдков

Ленин — членин,
Сталин — барин,
Хрущ — без кущ,
Лёня — в Вони,
Мишка — чушка,
Боря — горе,
Пыня — стынет
Кровь: не сгинет!..




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



Гадость — в  радость.
Чушь — для душ
оскоплённых,
иль для Туш?..




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



Безлюдье

Гитлер, Путлер и Пол Пот
Без народца: он — живот.




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



Шкура-дура губит мозг,
Оттого мирок вразнос.





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



Триединство

Идиоты словно шпроты,
Ну а банкой — целый мир.
С конуры бегом! — работы,
Бойни и бесплатный сыр.




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



Дурень Щастье всюду ищет,
А находит лишь тычки.
Строй фашистский ложью дрыщет:
Верят — в строе дурачки.




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



Ходячие гупии

Гупёшка —
В лепёшку,
Коль Памяти нет:
Господствует Бред,
От Духа — лишь след.
Пресс ТВАРЕЙ — в ответ.



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



Могила мира

Мертвяк средь врак
И Зла атак —
Земной Бардак.
Так, только так:
В себя уйди!
Не по пути
Тебе. В Могилу
С мертвяк-дебилом —
Фашизма силой?!



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



Говно-вопрос:
Из слов понос
И страхов газы
Отринь — всё сразу.



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



Повозка дегенератов

Чушка — дужка,
Дурень — шкворень.
Мразь — и связь оборвалась:
С явью связь. Маршрут на казнь.




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



Щастье частью оглупленья.
Ищут _щас_тье поколенья,
Только Мерзости находят —
ТВАРИ в Ад дурьё низводят.




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



Кот наелся.
Я оделся.
Только некуда идти —
С Дурью мне не по пути:
Противленье Чуши чти,
Пусть добила Ложь — почти...



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



Стынет кровь: бараны вновь
Верят в Чушь — погибель Душ.



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



Desolation

Hitler, Putler, Pol Pot too—
Nothing without their human zoo.



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



No People

Hitler, Putler, Pol Pot's lot:
Without the crowd—they're just a gut.



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



Empty Land

Hitler, Putler, Pol Pot's breed—
Without the herd they're guts indeed.



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



No Humanity

Hitler, Putler, Pol Pot's show:
Without the mob—they're beasts below.



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




Filth is bliss.
Trash—for souls
gelded clean,
or walking meat?



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




Rot delights.
Nonsense feeds
souls unmanned,
or lifeless meats?



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




Filth is fun.
Rubbish suits
castrate souls—
or human brutes?



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




Vile is sweet.
Twaddle's fare
for gelded souls—
or empty flesh?



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




A crappy quest:
Word-diarrhea,
Fear's foul gas—
Dump it. Free at last.



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




A shit-stained test:
Verbal runs,
Fearful fumes—
Leave them all at once.



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




Bullshit's best?
Verbal bile,
Fear's foul wind—
Cast them out. Be free.



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




Shit? Who cares.
Words that spew,
Fear that stinks—
Throw it all from you.



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




Crappy stuff:
Verbal runs,
Fear's foul fumes—
Dump them. All at once.



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




Shit, no more!
Verbal runs,
Fear's foul gas—
Dump it. All at once.



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




A herd of kine, so dull, so tame,
Bare survival is their game.
Not one spark to stand and fight—
One in hundred bears God's light.



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




Herds of cattle, meek and blind,
Struggling just to stay alive.
Not a shred of will to stand—
One God-spark in every hundred.



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




Cattle crowds, where simple minds
Live by toil their fate assigns.
None resist the yoke they got—
God's own spark? One soul in lot.



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




Just a herd—no higher aim,
Life's a struggle, all the same.
None will rise or dare depart—
One in hundred keeps God's spark.



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




Herds of cattle, dull and blind,
Living just from day to day.
None resist the chains they find—
One in hundred lights God's way.



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




The fool seeks joy in every place,
Yet finds a slap in every chase.
Fascist rule spews lies galore—
Only fools believe its lore.



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




Fools hunt happiness all day,
Finding only blows their way.
Fascist systems vomit lies—
Fools believe the grand disguise.



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




Simple fools seek bliss in vain;
All they earn is scorn and pain.
Fascist orders puke out lies—
Only fools believe the cries.



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




Every fool seeks fortune's kiss,
Finding only fists, not bliss.
Fascist regimes breed deceit—
Fools embrace the fraud complete.



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



Trinity

Idiots packed like sardines,
This whole world their rusted tin.
Out the kennel—toil begins:
Slaughterhouses, free cheese, grins.



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



Trinity

Fools like sprats in crowded rows,
This world's just the can that shows.
From the kennel—off to grind:
Slaughter, bait to snare the blind.



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



Trinity

Sprats of fools in one tin crammed,
That's the world—well-sealed and jammed.
From your kennel! Work and bleed,
Free cheese, slaughter—that's your creed.



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



Trinity

Fools like sardines, side by side;
Earth's the can where they reside.
Run from kennels—work awaits:
Slaughter, freebies, baited fates.



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



Trinity

Idiots packed like sardines,
Canned inside this world machine.
From the kennel—off to toil:
Free cheese, slaughter, sweat, and spoil.



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




The cat has fed.
I'm dressed instead.
Nowhere worth the road to tread—
Madness is no path ahead.
Stand 'gainst nonsense. Hold it true.
Lies have nearly broken you...



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




Cat is full.
Coat is on.
Nowhere left where I belong.
Folly's road is not my way.
Fight the nonsense every day—
Though lies almost won the fray...



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




Cat has dined.
I am dressed.
Nowhere calls me, east or west.
Madness? Never. Not for me.
Honor truth, let nonsense flee,
Though falsehood won—almost completely...



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




Cat's well fed.
I am dressed.
Nowhere left to seek or rest.
I won't walk where fools abide.
Stand against their foolish tide—
Though lies have almost won the fight...



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



The World's Grave

Dead men. Lies.
Evil flies.
Earth's a mess.
Nothing less.
Turn within!
Do not tread
With the dead,
Fools in line,
Marched by Fascism's design.



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



The World's Grave

Dead among
Lies and wrong,
Earth's a wreck,
Neck by neck.
Turn inside!
Do not roam
With the dead
To their home—
Driven there by Fascism.



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



The World's Tomb

Dead in lies.
Evil cries.
World askew.
Nothing new.
Seek your soul!
Never fall
With the dead,
Mindless bred,
Forced by Fascism instead.



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



The World's Grave

Dead with lies.
Evil's rise.
Chaos reigns.
Nothing changes.
Go within!
Not your road.
Don't descend
With the dead,
Driven by the Fascist dread.



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



The World's Grave

Dead men. Lies.
Evil flies.
Earth's a mess.
Nothing less.
Turn within!
Not your way.
Walk not with
Living dead,
Driven by Fascism instead.



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



Devils' Diet

Humans? A plate—
Meat served with hate.
Hell's favorite fare:
Word-spewers there.