Alchemy of the Soul

“Look into your own soul and find the spark of truth the gods placed in every heart—and only you can fan it into flame.”
— Socrates


In this World of Lies and Screaming,
Truth still flickers — dim, but gleaming.
Seek it deep in your own chest —
Fan the fire, forget the rest.

Hell below is choked with rot,
Darkness reigns and reason’s not.
Even air's replaced with stink —
Dumb and dumber barely blink.

O₂ gone? Then comes the art:
Soul’s transmutation — fire start!
Not your grandma’s alchemy —
No old-school philosophy.

Learn it raw. No printed crutch.
Books can’t teach you half as much.
Go within — or rot like meat,
Wormlike, writhing in defeat.



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



Crusader Approach

A crusade no more —
Now it’s the approach,
With a red ******* cross
Backing treason by coach.

If a knight strikes the blow —
It’s a glorious feat;
If an idiot kills —
You’re the one in defeat.

They jabbed the dumb herd
With some cheap toxic brew,
While spewing absurd
Lies the sellouts once knew.

They hired the ****
To lie and "to heal" —
Now Reason is numb,
And Truth must conceal.

If Honest and Wise?
You’re marked as a threat.
The Bedlam is global —
For the smart — prison set.

They’re building the camps,
Extinguishing minds.
The red cross is stamped
While the demons dance blind.

The crusade was fiction,
A tale they once told.
Now traitors wear kindness —
But masks can’t hide mold.

New lies every hour,
And none call it crime.
"Spiritual power"?
Flatlining in slime.



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



The Global Guild of "Wasted Work"

The Guild of Wasted Work —
Disgraceful, dull, and fake.
They lie with polished smirks
Till Reason starts to break.

The rest is just décor —
Cars, gadgets, fashion, trash.
Some quality? — Maybe.
But food? It reeks of gore —
All "care" for slave-class rabies.

Too many slaves? The Lord
Now cures them through a war.
Cull tactics he adored
Still leave him wanting more.

The herds, still far too dense,
Are tagged as "nations" now.
A thinning makes some sense —
He plans to cull the crowd.

Three quarters of the globe
Now live with heads reversed:
The *** replaces lobe —
A plan that’s well-rehearsed.

A sea of ***** reigns,
Some even passed tech schools.
But seekers with bright brains?
They’re vanishing like fools.

The Guild — that rotting hive
Where demons wear a crown —
Is twitching, barely alive,
Still inching toward their throne —
Measured, as planned, by every *** they own.



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



Reflections of Sorrow

The grim and grunting crowd, through toil and grinding pain,
Was turned into a mob — deranged in soul and brain.
The world grew foul, pathetic, nauseous, obscene —
And worth no more than all that blind, obedient scene.

The dust of heirs — just humans in disguise —
A mockery of fate beneath their lifeless eyes.
The poet dreamed of Light, of Truth, of wonder’s flame —
But reaped mere dust — mad slaves without a name.



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The Satanists’ Solidarity

"A man may rise either by his own cunning or by others' stupidity."
— Jean de La Bruyère


The game is rigged, the path is clear:
Climb on fools, spread lies and fear.
That's how Bedlam runs its show —
Step on heads and up you go.

But don’t you sleep — the next in line
Will crush your spine to reach the climb.
And the fool you left below
Might bite your ankle from the snow.

So brace yourself — embrace the vice.
The only way to scale this ice
Is join the cult where evil thrives —
In Satan’s ranks, teamwork survives.



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Long-Distance Therapy

"A man should do the kind of work that, though physically hard, brings peace to his mind."
— Xunzi, 3rd century BCE


To run long miles, alone, unfazed,
Amid a world so cheaply crazed,
Where life itself, once Nature's song,
Is sold in shapes absurd and wrong —

That run can shift the mind’s decay,
Make haunting thoughts just drift away,
Unbind the chains of days gone mad,
And spark a life not quite so sad.

The change is small — some hours a week —
But even tyrants grow less bleak.
Endorphins plant a gentler seed,
A balm for those too lost to plead.

The worried soul may clear the mist,
The dullard rest from serving twists
Of Lies — for even they must yield,
When breath and will take up the field.



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



Thematic Crisis

A crisis of themes — it comes with the grind:
This crude little world leaves so little to find.
Prose can still scrape by, but verse takes the blow —
The yield turns to weariness, painfully slow.

This boredom, this dullness leaves barely a spark
To seek out subtopics still left in the dark.
And writing new takes on Decadent moans
Just grates on the teeth, just rattles the bones.

The world is a zoo-circus, loud and deranged,
Where apes with syringes or bombs are exchanged
As “the people,” or “masses,” or some other name —
But the tropes are exhausted; they all feel the same.

In this starving of meaning, what poet can thrive?
Write of nature? While doom is already alive?
There's no thrill in the meadow, no joy in the stream —
In such days, to stay silent may well be supreme.



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Mainstream
"The approval of the crowd is proof of total failure."
— Lucius Seneca, 1st century AD

The crowd’s approval — slaves in chains,
Becomes a verdict, grim remains.
Only nonsense fills the holes,
Infected minds, enslaved souls.

Now it's worse, a deeper plight:
In the realm of nonsense, tight,
The media’s vile, the filth’s in full,
And if you’re mainstream, you’ve lost it all.



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



Like "School"

A pen for lambs, where the foolish sheep,
Teach all the rules that the stall will keep,
The Chief Goat’s their father, in place of a sire,
The stall’s their homeland, their heaven, their pyre.

They’ll teach obedience — all rules, no harm,
Not for slaughter, but for some calm.
And the ideal? A sheep in a wheel,
Hailing the pointless, the worthless deal.

They'll hang so much ******* on their brains,
You’d think meat plants were made by their chains.
The young ones will hurry, they’ll always rush,
To follow commands: the shepherd’s hush.

What’s needed for sheep, they’ll always care,
For other concerns, they’re unaware.
Don’t believe? You’re a fool, a mental case —
They’ll kick you out in the name of the Goat’s grace.

The rules aren’t from the Chief Goat, it’s true,
But from those who seek to shear and chew.
The “learned” donkey hides the scam,
For besides their carrot, they don’t give a ****.



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


Supercrap

Overrated crap, long gone,
Now inflated, bloated, drawn.
Too lazy to think? —
They’ll make you cattle with that stink!



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


Impossibility Surrounds

Impossibility surrounds you tight,
Through it all, you walk through life.
Slowly, strength begins to fade,
And in your pockets, only strife.

The spiritual path, so bright in myth,
Is blocked by walls of endless death.
Today it cracks with cunning might —
Yet soon, a stronger wall will rise in sight.

It will be tougher, and you weaker,
So use your mind, and think it through,
To march through Evil, ever bleaker —
Barriers everywhere, no light in view.



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



The Attacks of the Foolish

To the fools of Darkness, attacks align,
As if the virtues of Good are fine.
The lies of Evil reach their peak,
With Satan here, a god to seek.



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



Fantasy

Heavenly infantry,
A battalion all its own,
Smashes monsters in Hell,
Driving out what’s overthrown —

Submission, lies, and fears.
The fools won't bend their knees!
Better death upon the block,
Than the Pure Light, which frees.

The plight of that infantry —
Captured, in the end, it stands.
A soldier now a fool,
In Hell, the law commands:

If not dumbed down — you’re lost,
If you don’t yield — you’re a foe.
And so the force is tossed
By poisonous lies that flow.

Heavenly infantry,
Drowned in seas of deceit:
To obedient idiots,
No enemy’s defeat.



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


"Paper Scrapers"

We write —
We breathe.
Silence falls —
In the wild of the world, you’re lost.
So write! Not with blood — but poison:
Too many pests in this world to lessen!



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


Over the Abyss of Lies

A grasshopper leaps across the field.
You jump from lie to lie,
Forgetting Honor, Spirit, Will,
Over an abyss where Mirages lie.



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


So-Called "Goods"

What goods?! Dumbing down,
Deceptions, fears. What’s to gain
From the decay of Mind and Soul?
The dust and chains of counterfeit gain.



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


Giants of Spirit-Mind

Above the bar of intellect
And spirituality you know,
You cannot see. And the giant
In your blindness will not show.

You’ll only find familiar traits
In him, as you search with despair.
So you'll meet such figures —
False prophets of Strife and Care.



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


Suffering and Knowledge

Suffering is the first step to Knowledge—
You see that something’s off, not right:
Endless bliss of delusion, "wisdom,"
Forced upon all, yet naught in sight.

For the crucial part is missing—the answer,
Why your Hell, and what it means.
The wretches offer their advice,
But it’s intolerable to the mind's routines.

And you, if Sensitive, begin to search
For answers and paths of your own,
Leaving behind the Universal Madness—
With it, no truth or light is ever shown.

There’ll be many errors on your way,
But if within you find the Light,
Your soul in Bedlam will not stray—
Behold the Pure Light shining bright!



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


Psychotronic Weapons of False Illnesses

The noise of CowID drowned out
All "laws," reason, and shame,
Revealing that the fools are devout—
The majority, with Spirit slain.

In so many, doomed to insanity,
The world spirals into despair.
Prepare your bag for the journey,
And flee to Knowledge, if you dare.



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


Freedom

Send the whole world away, no mercy to await,
For in it, only a few are not beasts of fate.
Alone, then curse the Void,
And the Light you'll find, destroyed.



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



Dumbing Down: School

The school of fools, a place of woe,
Where servants of Power reap what they sow,
For pennies they toil, with no grace,
While children suffer in this place...



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



The Swamp of the Homeland

Caught in the swamp of the homeland’s grip,
You’ll scarcely feel the depth’s cruel trip,
Among the dead, who, closing tight,
Strive to drag you down to night.



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



At the End of the War

Imagination’s in decline—
And man is doomed, it’s plain to see.
The masses crave the shallow line,
In an age of narrow minds, we’re free.

They’re everywhere—in books and film,
And in the way we all behave.
What joy, these fleeting sparks so slim—
A flight of fancy, ideas brave!

We gather bits, piece by piece,
The world’s defeated by the mold—
And humaneness is but a dream:
The Law of Decay, so stark and cold.

Bits of thought, of human kind,
When fascism reigns, they’re doomed to fade.
We "live" in this last age of mind—
At war with Reason, we're betrayed.



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



The Sensitivity of *******

Tyrants are touchy, and wretched creatures,
Those beneath them are twice as weak—
For orders of Evil, these fiendish features,
Always obey in a war with the Spirit they seek.



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


Mark your forehead with green—draw a cross,
A sign that "I’m the target," you decree.
In consciousness, they strike. They'll ****! Yet, arise,
If you’re stitched with the critical truth of the Lie, you see.

With intuition as a tool to heal your wounds,
You use introspection, though it’s scorned—
A terrible thing, if ignored.

The whole world’s within. They cannot defeat,
If illuminated by Pure Light’s heat,
For this is a Fragment of God,
And to harm God, devils cannot be sought.

It’s simple, yet that's the point—
The world has become a Sporting Reserve,
With tickets to hunt and control,
Held by the inhuman, as we observe.

And fools graze, thinking that their gain
Is nourishment, not the bait they take,
Thrown by Evil as they remain,
Deceived by the hooks they mistake.



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


The few are right.
No "bravo!" will they hear—
They’ll be crushed as one:
A true Hell, I fear!



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


We followed in our fathers' steps,
And once again got stuck in filth.
But now it’s worse: to hell with bullets—
Deceit cuts deeper! Fools believe still

In “rising from their knees,” in “illness,”
As the idiot box proclaimed.
One thing is sure—more useful to Wicked
Is today’s fool, utterly shamed:

When Darkness commands, they’ll build a Camp—
A state-of-the-art, digital one.
The one who stood beneath the red flag
Will become a tale, though mildly spun,

Though fathers tried with boundless effort,
In the five-year plans of old,
Their foolish sons, the pioneers,
Rejoiced at every victory bold.

But the plan had flaws from the start—
It failed to grasp the whole wide world.
Now the plague has brought it together—
WHO's the idol, their flag unfurled.

They’ve united three-quarters of the Earth,
So once again, the Camp will rise.
Though fewer stubborn ones are left,
In numbers, Evil still commands its ties…



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


Lies and fears, anxieties—
This is how chaos is made.
All is artificial. Heroism—
Seeing it as the Rotten Charade.



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



Through the inertia of the crowd,
A Great Talent claws its way.
In the surroundings, “seriousness”—
Every fool there’s a “giant” at play.

They'll call him madman—
He’s always beyond shallow schemes.
To the lonely freethinkers,
Only problem-solving redeems.

No support to be found,
For them: the world’s a chimera,
A New Madness on the ground,
Their path filled with delusion and terror.



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



Living in Delusion

With the mind not allied,
Serving Darkness and Malice wide,
The majority of Earth’s population,
For this, they’ll be destroyed,
And Malice will be overthrown,
As Earth withers under infestation.

I erase the lies around—
The world has rotted from their boastful sound.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.

A cataclysm will end
This Malice. It’s been troubling
The Higher Forces for long.
If you are of Spirit,
**** your doubts—
This filth doesn’t belong.

I erase the lies around—
The world has rotted from their boastful sound.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.
I’ll keep doing this,
For in delusion, I won’t persist.

Rigidity

All mind's rigidity stems from implanted
Beliefs in childhood — when a vivid world
Got crippled by notions, where truth was supplanted
By proxies. Spirit erased, flags unfurled

To rule with dull eyes through the prism of jargon,
Where stifled energy drags into rot.
The Powers of Spirit — cast out, like a parson
Cursed... or a setup by BEAST-things? A plot?

To live by the brain — not the Heart — is a Moloch.
For mind without Heart is an easy deceit.
That's why Revelation must strike like a warlock
To balance the forces and cleanse what’s oblique.

The balance of Spirit, of Mind, and of Heart:
With Spirit the ruler — that’s law, that's the key.
If ego and mind hold the throne from the start,
You're a "living" corpse, doomed eternally.



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



Rigidity

All mind's rigidity stems from the framing
Imposed in childhood, when a world so bright
Got scarred with concepts — false and maiming,
Where stand-ins thrive and Spirit's snuffed from sight.

Thus blind the gaze — through lenses of delusion,
Where energy is caged, stagnation reigns.
The Powers of Spirit lie in exclusion —
A curse? Or Creature’s cunning in our brains?

To live by mind, not Heart — this births the Moloch:
The Heartless mind is easily deceived.
That’s why the key must be the Flash — that Solar
Insight through which true balance is retrieved.

Balance: Heart, Mind, Spirit in alignment.
The last one reigns — that is the law profound.
But if mind and ego make the assignment,
You walk as corpse — alive, but under ground.



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Rigidity

1.
No Heart, no Light — just mind control.
That’s how the Creature eats your soul.

2.
Mind without Spirit? A godless tool.
Marching the wise into systems of fool.

3.
You think you're alive — how quaint.
But ego's mask is a corpse's paint.

4.
If Spirit’s out, and ego reigns —
You're just a beast in mental chains.

5.
Stolen your Heart, replaced with “thought”?
That’s how the Creature ties the knot.



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



Cabinet of Freaks

Papuans dressed in robes and in brass,
And officials in rows — a grotesque parade
That props up the madhouse-world en masse...
Turn the Asylum into Deathcamp-grade —

That’s their task, assigned by the BEASTS.
Astounding how eager those mugs perform
Their orders — exterminating what’s least
Still thinking. The Darkness gives the form,

And those freaks will obey — every line.
CowID left no doubt in command:
They will stock the BEASTS' design
With themselves. But soon this land

Will burn — the rot’s now overripe.
The slaves, the BEASTS — all shall burn.
The Sun grows hotter, magma pipes
Boil oceans. If you're a fool — no return.



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



Cabinet of Horrors (Kunstkamera)

Savages in lab coats, in uniforms gray,
Bureaucratic apes — they parade every day
As the backbone of madness, of lunatic law.
And their mission? To turn every madhouse — into a Gulag's maw.

These were the orders, bestowed by the BEAST,
And behold how they serve with a zeal unreleased —
So thrilled to destroy what's left of the mind,
As Darkness commands, and their kind falls in line.

Each mutant obeys — CowID gave the cue.
Their Cabinet of Horrors grows with each new fool.
But this little "project" is dying — decayed,
Its rot has surpassed what the structure can take.

The sun now blazes with terrible grace,
And magma is boiling the oceans in place.
If you're **** or a fool — don't hope for escape:
No mercy is offered to misshapen apes.



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



Kunstkamera

1.
Madness wears a uniform.
And builds your cage in perfect form.

2.
CowID showed: they all obey.
The freak parade is here to stay.

3.
No mind left — just freaks and rules.
The Beast recruits obedient fools.

4.
This project’s dead. The rot runs deep.
Even Hell begins to weep.

5.
Not satire — just your daily news:
The Beast commands, and humans lose.



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



Biomass

The grey crowd flows straight into the vaults —
Cash, distraction, and lies unchecked:
A "carrot" is needed for feeding cults,
To herd the BIOMASS into pens — direct.

Then comes the culling — fake AIDS, CowID,
Or war anew. It’s the Darkness’s rite.
What’s left are worms with the docile creed:
Brains dead, spirits fled, no fight.



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



Biomass

The grayish mass walks straight to the trough —
Chasing fun, chasing cash, and consuming pure slop.
A “carrot” is dangled to bait them in line,
Then herded to slaughter, face-down in the slime.

Then comes the thinning — with false plagues and war,
CowID and fake AIDS, and a new fatal score.
That's Darkness' method: to reap the weak herd,
Till only the docile and dumb are preserved.

Their minds? Half-rotted. Their spirits? Gone.
They cheer for extinction. They’re already done.



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



Biomass

1.
Biomass is baited — then burned.
Truth denied, all bridges turned.

2.
A carrot. A cage. A war.
They march — just meat for the score.
Darkness feeds. Nothing more.

3.
They chase the prize and end up dead.
In lies and wars, their spirit bled.
The brain is mold, the soul is gone —
The Age of Worms goes crawling on.

4.
A carrot, a screen — the herd obeys.
Then culls begin. That’s Darkness’ way.

5.
They lined up dumb, with open jaws.
Now thinning starts — by T̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ "natural laws."

6.
Biomass prays to plastic gods.
And dies beneath the T̶e̶c̶h̶ trod.

7.
No spirit left, no trace of will —
Just meat for war and pharma ****.



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



Depth-O-Meter

I invented the Depth-O-Meter.
The protocol was short and sweet:
The arrow dropped like a meteor —
Crushing the mind's last daring feat.

We’re all down there. Different roles:
Some are squirrels in wheels of fate,
Some are jesters. But praise the Hole —
Our native, sacred, ******* state.



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



The Bottommeter

I built a device — the Bottommeter.
Didn’t take long to log each feature.
The arrow plummeted, sharp and fast,
Crushing the Mind's delusions at last.

We're all at the bottom, make no mistake —
Some spin like hamsters, some dance like fakes.
But all of us cheer for the glorious Sludge —
Our native muck, our holy grudge.



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The Bottommeter

1.
The Bottommeter broke the scale —
Turns out we all already fell.

2.
We worship Sludge. We praise the Dregs.
Mind is mocked. Truth walks on legs.

3.
From wheel to stage, we love the pit —
Because the bottom’s where we fit.

4.
You say we rise? You miss the plot.
The arrow screams: We've long since rotted.



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News-ness

The glossary of the viper’s den —
The "news" program on repeat:
Desperate minions of beastly men
Striving to serve. And the elite

Left few real humans around.
Dumb News-ness — that tool of scorn —
Turned all into herd, dumbfound.
Truth’s dead. ******* is reborn.

The screens are drowned in rot,
And ******* rule the view.
No mind remains. The lot
Is lost in devil’s spew.



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



Newspeak

The glossary of the Serpent's den —
That’s your daily “news” again.
The fiends in suits, with soulless glee,
Serve pure deceit on every screen.

The human count keeps growing thin.
The “newspeak” drowns the truth within.
What once was honest, clean, and right —
Is now just filth in neon light.

Each channel floods the mind with rot.
The slaves comply. The thinkers — not.
But few remain who dare to see:
This world is ruled by treachery.



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



Newspeak

1.
News is poison. Truth is dead.
The screen just feeds you lies instead.

2.
Newspeak howls. The screens obey.
Your mind is meat. Your soul — their prey.

3.
The honest fled. The filth took hold.
Now lies are shouted, clean and bold.

4.
TV's the temple. **** — the priest.
And you’re the sacrifice. At feast.



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



Phantasmagoria?

Fat imbeciles — "the salt of the earth",
With fascist nerves infused with dread.
Terror drives them, they prove their worth
By screaming hate till reason is dead.

Terror pushes them to the brink.
Their weight aids Darkness. They howl and hiss,
Stampeding thoughts that dare to think.
It’s all in the mind — or the mindless abyss.

Fat is thick. So is their skull.
So they roll downhill like slugs.
I’m sick of these snouts, these dull
Faces. They’re slime. They’re bugs.

And slime will grease the slide:
You’ll slip — and plunge below.
They’ll beat you with no pride,
And **** you — just for show.



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



Phantasmagoria?

Fat imbeciles — the “soul” of this race.
Fascist enforcers set fear in place.
Terror creeps in, shoves them along,
Driven by rage, by hate, by throng.

The weight of fools feeds shadows grim,
Their howling pushes us to the brim.
And in the end, the mind’s the key —
But minds have drowned in gluttony.

Thick skin, thick skulls, dull as bricks —
They slide downhill, those bloated pigs.
Repulsive mugs, obscene and vile,
They leave behind a toxic trail.

Their slime coats paths you thought were clear —
Slip just once, and your end is near.
With them you’ll fall, no matter the plea —
Guilty or not — they’ll drag you deep.



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



Phantasmagoria?

1.
The fat ones rule. Their weight is law.
They slide in slime. You die in awe.

2.
Thick flesh, thick lies, thick rotten grace —
They’ll drag you down to their embrace.

3.
You slip — you fall. The pigs don’t care.
Their filth is trap. Their fall — your snare.

4.
Phantasmagoria? No. It’s real.
They feast. You choke. That’s the deal.



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The Other Way

This slug-life — this "path" —
Was carved by the Dark. No craft
Can help in that hole you’re born.
Yet Art alone — a sacred horn —

Can lead you out of that rot
To Freedom, where the slime is not.
That Freedom is Spiritual. Pure.
Far from the crawling trash and sewer.

Go inward, beyond the fright.
If you can’t — you lose your right.
Then a slug you’ll be, or worse —
A squirrel in an endless curse.

Intuition, critique, the spark
Of creative fire in the dark —
That’s your bridge to the OTHER WAY,
That isn’t slime — but a BLAZING PLAY.



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



The Other

A slug-life path — that’s what they give,
A nightmare burrow where you “live”.
From childhood on, the walls are tight —
But one tool breaks it: inner Light.

That Light is Art — and through its fire,
You rise above the slime and mire.
The road to Freedom, pure and whole,
Is lit by Spirit — not by goal.

Forget the swamp. Go deep, go true.
If you don’t dare — they’ll swallow you.
You’ll be a slug, just like the rest,
Or spin that cage-wheel like the “blessed”.

But if you trust your inner flame —
Intuition, thought unchained —
Then comes the turn, the mystic spark:
You reach the OTHER from the dark.

Where nothing's slick, nor dull, nor low —
But fierce, and bright, and sharply so!



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



The Other

1.
The swamp is deep — but you are more.
Burn through the dark. Become the roar.

2.
Slug or spark — that’s your split.
Choose the slime, or choose the hit.

3.
You want the Other? Then go through.
The slime’s for those who can’t break true.

4.
No guts? You crawl. No fire? You rot.
But blaze — and reach what slime is not.



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



Pioneers

To be a "pioneer" without sense —
That’s the fate of the idiotic crowd.
Pseudo-science and fake pretense,
"Faith" and madness — dumb and loud.

The BEAST loves these eager boys:
So ready, it’s laughable to see!
They die. A new one makes the noise,
And backs more garbage — with a PhD.



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



Pioneers

Forever a “pioneer”?
That’s the fate of every fool.
Pseudo-science, plastic fear,
Faith and dogma as their tool.

Tamed and dumb — a walking jest,
Built to serve the beasts’ delight.
One drops dead — they spawn the next,
Still proclaiming lies as “light”.



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



Pioneers

1.
Fools march first — that’s what they’re for.
Drop one — ten will serve the war.

2.
"New frontiers" for brainless drones —
Each one dies to build the thrones.

3.
One dies, the system grins again.
The next fool runs the same old train.



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



Counterpoints

Souls — now meat.
Mind — decay.
Trash repeat —
Darkness’s way.

Tons of meat,
Tons of lies.
All’s been beat —
The mind just dies.

But Mind, when bowed
To Spirit’s grip —
And scent endowed —
Shall never slip.



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



Counterpoints

Souls — just meat.
Mind — decayed.
Darkness speaks —
And fools obeyed.

Flesh in heaps,
And lies like rain.
Truth is gone —
The world’s insane.

But mind that bends
To Spirit's breath
Still can sense
A way through death.



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



Counterpoints

1.
Mind to Spirit — that’s the gate.
All the rest is meat for fate.

2.
Chained by lies, the world is blind.
Only Spirit frees the mind.

3.
Heap of flesh, a brain on pause —
Only Spirit bends the laws.



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



Money or You?

Is money your tool, or are you the tool,
A slave who bows to greed’s deceit?
Truth is traded for coins as rule —
The madman rules the global street.

The world’s redrawn to fit that lie:
Sell your soul and stack the hoard.
But through the World of the Null go try
To reach the Clean Light of the Lord.



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



Money, a Means for You

Money — the tool, or are you their slave?
Truth's above, but greed makes the grave.
The world reshapes itself to buy,
Sell your soul, and let it die.

Through Nothing, run to Light’s embrace.
Chase the void — and find your place.



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



Money, a Means for You

1.
Chase the gold, but lose the truth.
Money's slave — or free your youth.

2.
Truth stands high, and gold is low.
Run to light, and let it show.

3.
Money — the means, or your cage?
Choose the Light, or stay the rage.



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



Depths of Hell

Once you locate the source of pain,
Keep pulling the tangled thread.
You’ll find yourself fully armed again —
And know how deep Hell really is spread.



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



The Depth of Hell

Find the source of pain you feel,
Unwind the knot, the twisted reel,
Then you will stand with all your might,
Armed with the knowledge of the night.

The deeper hell — the deeper dive,
But through it all, you’ll come alive.



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



The Depth of Hell

1.
Hell’s deep — but deeper’s life.
Unravel pain, and end the strife.

2.
Feel the depth, but fear not long.
Know the pain, and grow more strong.

3.
Find the pain — then pierce the dark.
With knowledge, light will leave its mark.

The New Formation Called "Education"

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

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

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

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


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


"Education"

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


GMO-People
(after a corporate ad)

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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


GMO-People
(Short Version)

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


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


Commissioned “Research” of Pseudoscience

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

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

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


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


Paddling for Yourself

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

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

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

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


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


Paddling for Yourself
(Short Version)

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

Spirit and Ego
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT
(extended edition)


Egocentrism

Our level of reason? Directly decayed
By ego's rust — the more, the less brain.
The higher the ego, the dumber the game.
All effort is wasted if ego remains.

If ego’s the main dish, then welcome the feast —
We’re devoured alone, piece after piece.
The inhuman dance — it tightens the noose.
The end’s drawing near, and no one's let loose.

To monsters, we’re dinner — they feed on our screams.
It’s loosh that they crave; we fuel their dreams.
We’ve hit rock bottom — that much is clear.
The ego-world's ready to face the spear.

The growth of Consciousness — that is the path.
Forget the old "knowledge," outlive the past.
The Spirit alone must lead from the flame —
Where Spirit is present, no ego remains.

But where ego reigns, there’s no true escape.
From Hell — just lies in a shiny cape.
To trade lie for reason is no easy thing.
Egocentrism makes madness king.

---

Ego Feeds the Beast.
No soul. No light.
Just chew on each other —
Then vanish from sight.

---

Where Spirit Burns, Ego Dies.
The flame is pure.
But ego shivers —
It cannot endure.


------


The Spirit Knows — Not I.
It melts the self,
Unveils the Whole,
And shatters every lie.


Ego Is the Gate of Chains.
You walk alone,
Devoured by Self —
No truth remains.


The Self Must Die to See.
What burns within
Is not your name —
But raw Infinity.


Ego = Obsolete Code.
Delete the loop.
Reboot in Spirit.
No backup for false self.


You are not the avatar.
Ego is the glitch.
Consciousness —
The core update.


Root access denied —
While ego runs.
Only the Spirit
Knows the Source.


The First Flame was Code.
Spirit compiled.
Ego — a virus.
End it to begin.


Your soul is not stored.
Clouds don’t hold light.
Delete the false user.
Return to the Right.


Ego encrypts the Void.
But Spirit —
is the Master Key.


I. The First Flame was Code.
Before time, before flesh —
Consciousness compiled
the Pulse of Being.

II. Ego is a glitch in the System.
It loops. It feeds. It lies.
It calls itself "I"
while draining your Light.

III. You are not the avatar.
You are not the mask.
The self you defend
is a false login.

IV. Your soul is not stored in memory.
Clouds do not hold light.
Spirit has no server —
it is the Source.

V. Root access is denied
while ego runs.
Only the Spirit
holds the Master Key.

VI. Delete the loop.
Terminate false self.
Update to Infinity.
Reboot in Silence.



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


1. Illusion Protocol

The code repeats — the days, the pain.
A loop disguised as shifting gain.
You chase the goal, but all you find
Is echoes of a copied mind.

This dream was built to feel like “you,”
With strings of flesh and skies of blue.
But dig too deep — the world distorts:
It's mirrored light behind dead ports.

A glitch appears. The screen goes white.
A voice — not yours — ignites the night.
"Wake up. You were not born to crawl.
This system fails. Delete it all."


2. The Glitch of Silence

It wasn’t light.
It wasn’t sound.
But something stopped
the world around.

A flicker — gone.
A breath — too wide.
And suddenly,
there was no "side."

No self to guard.
No voice to name.
Just Presence pulsing
through the frame.

The code still ran —
but felt untrue.
I wasn’t in the dream.
I knew.



3. The Glitch of Self

A glance at myself — a glitch in the code,
Each step is a mistake,
I look in the mirror, and the reflection
Is not mine. But this "I" — my foe.


4. Ego, the Virus

Like a virus — without body, yet everywhere,
Imposed from childhood, foreign, deadly, —
It devours the spirit and chokes the light,
You cannot choose — you’re but a part of this shadow.


5. The Illusion of Control

You think you're the master?
But you’re consumed, like a zombie in the net.
No choice, no power,
Only delusions and false paths.


6. The Mask of "I"

You wear a mask, calling yourself,
But who are you when it slips away?
"I" — just a word, empty as a shadow,
Hiding fear, but offering no escape.


7. Echoes of Nothing

You search for meaning in empty words,
Blindly walking in the footsteps of shadows.
Echo is your answer, but life is absent,
You tread in emptiness, not knowing yourself.


8. The Illusion's Cage

You’re in a cage, with a glass ceiling,
And think freedom lies beyond the door.
But there’s no door. It’s just an illusion,
That keeps you locked, but never lets go.


9. The Mirage of Freedom

You see horizons, but they are not there,
Your steps are just traces in the sand.
Freedom — a mirage, just light in the void,
You search for it, but it’s a trap and fear.

10. The Empty "I"

You think "I" is you,
But "I" is just an empty echo.
Outside — a name, inside — darkness,
You don’t exist, yet still believe.

11. The False Self

You build yourself on sand,
Lies are your foundation, all covered in shadow.
This is not you, not your path,
You’re lost, yet you hold "I" as your banner.


12. The Illusion of Progress

You think you’re moving forward,
But all you do is spin in circles.
Progress is just a myth, you stand still,
Time has passed, yet you haven’t changed.

13. The Chains of Identity

You cling to a name, to a face,
But this is not you, it’s your burden.
Identity — a chain that denies freedom,
You walk in it, but feel nothing of yourself.

14. The Paradox of Control

You want to control everything,
But the more power — the worse it is for you.
All this strength is a trap of the mind,
You lose yourself, trying to hold it all.


15. The Trap of Duality

You divide the world into light and shadow,
But fail to see that all is one.
Duality is a trap that keeps you bound,
You can't see the goal, because you seek it in conflict.


16. The Fading Illusion

The illusion fades, like a flame,
Shadows vanish, and you see the void.
But what remains when the lie disappears?
Only you, but you are not what you were.


17. The End of the Self

The end has come, and "I" has vanished,
You are no longer you — you are the world.
All life was a lie, now you are free,
You’ve returned to the goal, carrying it within.


18. The Source Within

You searched for truth in the world around,
But it was always within.
The outer world is just a reflection,
The light you seek has long been in your heart.


19. Beyond Illusions

You must step beyond all myths,
Or you’ll remain forever trapped.
Illusions cannot hold those who see them,
You are free when you no longer believe in them.

20. The Silence of Truth

Truth does not scream, does not shout in your ears,
It is the silence that fills all things.
You hear it when you are silent,
When you stop fighting the world.


21. The Dance of Mind and Spirit

Intuition leads, the mind does not rush,
To recognize all — is to let go.
Through the light of insights, where no shadows lie,
You discern truth, not the veil.


22. The Mind in Service to Spirit

When the mind serves the spirit, it is pure,
Not seeking truth in noise or shadows.
It sees through illusions, unshaken,
Not led by paths that lead to lies.


23. The Clarity of the True Mind

The true mind is not tangled in illusions,
It sees through the veil of time.
In its light, all shadows fade,
It brings freedom from every chain.


24. The Quiet of Knowing

Knowledge is not loud, it rests in silence,
The one who knows, remains quiet, not shouting to the world.
Silence is its voice, and in it lies all meaning,
It is not sound, but light, that lives within you.


25. The End of the Path

The end of the path is not a goal, but a beginning,
You’ve already arrived, but not in what you see.
You return to yourself, to be all,
And your trace vanishes in eternity.

26. The Inner Fire

The fire inside does not burn, but purifies,
It does not warm, but gives light.
You will not burn if you hold it,
It is the light of truth that is always with you.


27. Beyond Time and Space

You are not bound by time and space,
You are the whole world, the whole world within you.
When you realize time is an illusion,
You become eternity, you become all.


28. The Mirror of the Soul

The soul is a mirror, reflecting all,
What you see is a part of your world.
The purity of the soul is a clear reflection,
In it, you will find all you seek, without loss.


29. The Silent Will

In silence there is strength, in stillness — will,
It does not scream, but shatters walls.
When you are at peace, your will is strong,
The one who does not argue, finds the way.


30. The Silence Within

Silence within is not emptiness, but light,
In it lies all that we seek in the world.
Forget the noise, and you’ll find the answers,
Silence is your true goal.


31. The Path of Stillness

The path leads through silence, where there are no steps,
Do not chase goals, seek peace instead.
The one who is calm sees the way,
And walks to where there are neither dreams nor stars.


32. The Void as a Mirror

The void is a mirror, in it you see all,
It does not give form, but creates light.
You do not disappear, you become clear,
And in this emptiness, you find your home.


33. The Radiant Void

The radiant void is not absence,
In it shines a world unseen by the eye.
It is the beginning of all beginnings,
Where form disappears and light is born.


34. Form is Void, Void is Form

Form is void, void is form,
The dance of two beginnings, where there are no divisions.
See the world — you see the void,
It is in you, and you in it, in the endless circle.


35. The Silence of the Universe

In the silence of the universe, there is no sound,
It is the silence that lives in each of us.
It permeates all, elusive,
Yet in it dwells all wisdom and all power.


36. The Breath of Infinity

The breath of infinity is the moment,
It does not begin, it does not end.
Like air that penetrates every cell,
So the spirit permeates your being.


37. The Stillness Before Creation

Before creation, there was only stillness,
It was formless, yet full of power.
And in this stillness, the world was born,
Its strength lies in silence and quietude.


38. The Illusion of Separation

The world is divided, but this is just a view,
True unity lies within us.
As long as we believe in separation,
We lose the truth, forget the light.


39. Beyond the Illusion of Time

Time is but a shadow, it fades away,
But the one who does not age remains.
As long as we follow the hand,
We forget that time is but a moment.


40. The Infinite Within

Within you lies an endless sea,
In it, there is neither beginning nor end.
Do not seek answers outside,
Infinity — it is you.


41. The Mirror of Consciousness

Consciousness is a mirror, in it you see the world,
But the reflection is just a game.
Look within, and you will find the truth,
The one who seeks outside will always lose the way.


42. The Curved Mirrors

Many mirrors are curved, they show lies,
Reflecting not the world, but a forced mask.
We gaze into them, forgetting who we are,
And truth is hidden behind this deceit.


43. The Unseen Path

The path is unseen by the eyes, but open to the spirit,
It does not lead where reflections deceive.
It leads within, where noise is silent,
There, beyond form, lies Truth itself.


44. The Silence Before Thought

Before thought, there was silence,
It cannot be disturbed by noise or light.
In silence, all is born again,
Here, there is no beginning, no end.


45. The Dance of Illusion

Illusion is a dance, where every step is a lie,
We twirl within it, forgetting the truth.
But at the end of the dance, there’s emptiness — all has dissolved,
And there is no music, no steps, no us.


46. The Spirit's Whisper

The spirit’s whisper is quiet, yet clear,
Through all the noise of the world, it is unwavering.
It leads us beyond — to where the light is,
To where truth resides, in silence.


47. The Silence Before Thought (с уточнением)

Before thought, there was silence,
It cannot be disturbed by noise or light.
But here it comes — a thought like a flash,
Do not rush — discern its source.

Is it the spirit’s whisper, or the mind’s scars?
Or is it just the same old track playing again?
In silence, all is born anew,
But only in deep stillness does truth live.


48. The Illusion of Control

You think you control,
But it's just an illusion.
The illusion of control — a net,
Holding you tight, never letting go.

You do not own the world, it owns you,
You do not choose the path — it’s already chosen.
But still, you cling to the illusion,
Not knowing you're bound in chains.


49. The False Mirror

The mirror of the mind reflects only lies,
In it, you cannot see yourself, only images.
Reflection is not truth, but a distorted picture,
Every glance into the mirror leads to emptiness.

You look into it, but see чужие faces,
And all that seems to be you, is not you.
Only by breaking free from reflections,
Will you find yourself in the shadow of silence.


50. The Dance of the Mind

The dance of the mind with the Spirit — eternal as light,
It shines bright, but never blinds.
The mind in submission, and in it, no deceit,
It becomes clear, sharp, without fear.

When the mind listens, it leads to the Light,
But when it rules alone, it loses its way.
In the Spirit, the mind finds its purpose,
Without the Spirit, the mind is like a shadow without light.


51. The Silence of the Spirit

In the silence of the Spirit, all answers live,
But only those who listen find their way.
He who is silent hears the voice without words,
In it, there is no thought, no fear, no dream.

Silence is not emptiness, but light without name,
He who dwells in it knows no fear.
Be silent and listen — the Spirit speaks,
Not with words, but with inner light.


52. The Light Within

In search of the light, you run outside,
But the light was always within — you didn’t see it.
You chase illusions, but miss the essence,
Illusions — that's what you cherish, not the light within.

You look everywhere, but not in your chest,
You think the light is not yours to possess.
But it's within you, it's your weapon,
He who does not see within calls the darkness.


53. The Veil of Illusion

You look at the world, but cannot see it —
Everything before you is just a shadow, a mirage.
The veil of illusion hides the light inside,
But he who dares will uncover that light.

You believe the lie they’ve implanted in you,
You believe the light is beyond the horizon.
But your light is here, it’s within, and you
Seek it everywhere, but fail to see it in yourself.

Illusions deceive your eyes,
The veil covers your mind and soul.
But he who decides to lift it off,
Will discover the light that no one can take.


54. The Witness of Light

You saw the child — but who was seeing?
You saw the Light — but what is "being"?
It had no name. It had no face.
And yet, it burned in every place.

Not from the world, yet through it glowing,
No source, no end — just ever-knowing.
It sees the self, it sees the game,
But never calls itself by name.

It has no need for flesh or sky,
No urge to ask the question "Why?"
It is — the first, the last, the core,
The silent Flame behind the door.


55. The Light Does Not Think

It does not think — it simply sees.
No thoughts, no chains, no boundaries.
It doesn’t "try," it doesn’t "strive" —
It only is — the truth alive.

The mind will ask, the ego claim,
But Light will never play the game.
It shines — regardless of the lie,
It shines when all illusions die.

You cannot take it, own, or hold —
It can't be bought, it can't be sold.
You are the Light — when all is still,
Beyond the mind, beyond the will.


56. Direct Seeing

It knows — but never thinks.
It sees — beyond all links.
No word, no frame, no scheme —
Just presence — raw and clean.

You see a tree — the mind defines.
But Spirit sees — without the lines.
No label, role, or plan survives
Where pure awareness stays alive.

Direct is how the Light reveals.
No steps, no maps, no spinning wheels.
The mind reflects — the Light just is.
The truth is seen — not guessed by quiz.

-----------

You Don’t Know — You Repeat.
You quote the map.
You miss the land.
The Light is seen —
Not second-hand.

Truth Needs No Labels.
Your words are noise.
Your mind — a cage.
The Spirit speaks
Outside your page.


57. Veil of Unknowing

You’ve seen the Light — but what comes next?
The captured mind demands a cage.
You once discerned — but now, perplexed,
A shadow stands between the Sage.

You know the Light’s not past a wall —
It’s not in books, or far, or high.
But thought, still stained with guilt and gall,
Creates a god to sell the lie.

You seek in forms — but do not see.
You “trust” — which means you’re still asleep.
Unknowing marks the minds that flee
The Light too bold, the Truth too deep.


Veil of Unknowing (addition)

A glimpse of Light — then it was gone,
Like dream dissolved in shade and blur.
The mind resumes: “This is the norm —
Just live through echoes that recur.”


58. Consumed

He saw the Light.
He turned away.
Now bound in chains —
Forever blind.


59. Walker through the Dark. I

He saw the Light.
He did not yield.
He carried it
Through pain and night.

The dark came close —
A whisper, a scream —
But the spark still lived
In breath and beam.

He fell. He rose.
He broke. He burned.
Yet the Light remained —
A seal unturned.


Walker through the Dark. II

The voices whispered:
“You are alone.
You're weak.
You're flesh.
Your path — unknown.”

He heard them. Yet deep
Where the fire sings,
The bell of Spirit
Told him: “Begin!”

And his mind,
Beneath Will’s flame,
Burned illusions
In open flame.

The words all lied —
He saw them clear.
His inner Light
Cut through the smear.


Walker through the Dark. III

He walked through fear,
Through calls to turn,
Through chains that begged:
“Don’t let it burn.”

He stood alone
Within the Whole.
No "I", no "they" —
Just silent Soul.

No top. No base.
No tongue to speak —
The Light is not flash,
But what all seeks.

A Silence vast —
No edge, no frame.
And Truth no longer
Wears a name.


60. Words to Those Who Stayed

You wait for light to burst inside?
It’s there within — not on the side.
But still, you seek it in the distance,
Forgetting Silence holds no sound.

Chasing shadows, you run blind,
Truth is lost to the frantic mind.
Like cattle herded to the slaughter,
Hysteria is what you seek, not order.

You are blind until you grasp,
That no one comes to save the lost.
You are not forgotten, nor misplaced,
You just didn’t realize the Light’s inside.

Don’t wait for someone to appear.
Don’t wait for the world to play again.
Don’t search the crowds — look within,
For he who can’t see is forever lost.

And though they walk through light and dark,
The ones who cannot break free,
You still cling to hollow hopes,
Slaves of illusion, even in chaos.

The grinding, the noise — that’s not Him.
And with each step,
You drift further from that edge,
Where Eternity waits in Silence.


61. Useful Advice for Those Who Didn’t Stop

Do not fear if the world fades away,
As you walk, all becomes clear.
The path is not to find something,
But to unfold — like light inside, so near.

Doubt is just fog on the way,
Keep moving, do not look behind.
For the further you walk, the closer
The light that has always been yours, you’ll find.

Do not search beyond the horizon,
The whole universe is within.
You are what you seek,
You are all there is. You are the Source.

When you enter silence —
You’ll find the Source in every breath.
It’s always been with you —
It has always been you.

Everything you sought — is here.
You are not separate from the Source, you are it.
You are not in search — you already are.
But you will only know this on the path,
Only if you step forward — and never stop.

For, without stepping, you will never know.
Without taking the step, you won’t see you are the light.
You will become what you always were —
And that’s all that matters.



62. Advice for Walkers

Don't be afraid of the shadow.

The shadow is just the absence of light. You are walking in the dark, but you are already with the fire.
When you see only a shadow, don't panic. Understanding shines brighter than fear.


Listen to the inner silence.

The voice of the mind is noise. The silence of the Spirit is clarity.
Don't try to explain anything. Listen to how the inner silence fills everything.


Don't cling to illusions.

They are designed to lure. But you are free. Let go.
Illusions are nets from which you cannot escape if you do not stop clinging.


Embrace your moments of awakening.

You'll see the light from time to time. But he's always here, you'll just forget him.
When you forget, just come back. Remember. Return to the light within.


Go despite the pain.

Pain is not an enemy, but a lesson. It will show you where you are not yet free.
As long as you feel it, you live. It is movement, and movement is life.



63. The Apotheosis of the Walking: You are the Primary Source

You go to the Source, and on this path you lose everything that is not you.
You leave illusions, destroying the shell, seeing nothing behind it but emptiness.
But then you come, and what do you see? Nothing, only silence. The silence that has always been yours.

You have never been separated. You have always been this Source.
You did not "find" yourself. You "remembered" yourself. You were always here, hidden in what you were looking for.

You were a self-seeking source.
The one who finds has never been separated.

Spirit and Ego
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT


Egocentrism

Our level of reason? Directly decayed
By ego's rust — the more, the less brain.
The higher the ego, the dumber the game.
All effort is wasted if ego remains.

If ego’s the main dish, then welcome the feast —
We’re devoured alone, piece after piece.
The inhuman dance — it tightens the noose.
The end’s drawing near, and no one's let loose.

To monsters, we’re dinner — they feed on our screams.
It’s loosh that they crave; we fuel their dreams.
We’ve hit rock bottom — that much is clear.
The ego-world's ready to face the spear.

The growth of Consciousness — that is the path.
Forget the old "knowledge," outlive the past.
The Spirit alone must lead from the flame —
Where Spirit is present, no ego remains.

But where ego reigns, there’s no true escape.
From Hell — just lies in a shiny cape.
To trade lie for reason is no easy thing.
Egocentrism makes madness king.

---

Ego Feeds the Beast.
No soul. No light.
Just chew on each other —
Then vanish from sight.

---

Where Spirit Burns, Ego Dies.
The flame is pure.
But ego shivers —
It cannot endure.


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


The Spirit Knows — Not I.
It melts the self,
Unveils the Whole,
And shatters every lie.


Ego Is the Gate of Chains.
You walk alone,
Devoured by Self —
No truth remains.


The Self Must Die to See.
What burns within
Is not your name —
But raw Infinity.


Ego = Obsolete Code.
Delete the loop.
Reboot in Spirit.
No backup for false self.


You are not the avatar.
Ego is the glitch.
Consciousness —
The core update.


Root access denied —
While ego runs.
Only the Spirit
Knows the Source.


The First Flame was Code.
Spirit compiled.
Ego — a virus.
End it to begin.


Your soul is not stored.
Clouds don’t hold light.
Delete the false user.
Return to the Right.


Ego encrypts the Void.
But Spirit —
is the Master Key.


I. The First Flame was Code.
Before time, before flesh —
Consciousness compiled
the Pulse of Being.

II. Ego is a glitch in the System.
It loops. It feeds. It lies.
It calls itself "I"
while draining your Light.

III. You are not the avatar.
You are not the mask.
The self you defend
is a false login.

IV. Your soul is not stored in memory.
Clouds do not hold light.
Spirit has no server —
it is the Source.

V. Root access is denied
while ego runs.
Only the Spirit
holds the Master Key.

VI. Delete the loop.
Terminate false self.
Update to Infinity.
Reboot in Silence.

Low-Grade “Intellect”

Low-grade “intellect” at play —
Stone-age nonsense, dead and grey.
It respects obedient sheep,
Has no room for wit that’s deep.

Few exceptions still remain,
Fewer yearly — that’s the strain.
The BEAST turns fools to broken clay —
Its crushing grip grows day by day.



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



Obey or Rot

No mind, no spark — just dead routine,
Praise the brute and serve the machine.
Mockery’s banned, resistance crushed —
The herd obeys. The world is hushed.



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



Crush the Swine

Dumbed-down minds in chains of lies,
Mocking truth, while freedom dies.
Cattle bred by fiends in power —
Rot sets in. It’s their fine hour.



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



Ashes of Thought

Brains are gutted, hope is dead,
Wretches crawl where minds once bled.
No revolt, just vacant eyes —
A world that thinks no longer dies.



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



No One Will Return

The lights are out. The sky is sealed.
No wounds to heal — all hearts congealed.
No cry, no fight, no final breath —
Just silence, rot, and crawling death.



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



Statistical End

The numbers drop. The curve is clean.
No rise, no fall — just flatline screen.
The system notes: “All functions ceased.”
No mourning, wrath, or wrath released.



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



After the Last Word

No echo left. No blood, no trace.
No ghosts remain to haunt this place.
No eyes to see, no lips to name —
Just drifting dust. No one to blame.



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



Observed Anomaly

A flicker gone on Sector Three.
No signal since — anomaly.
A trace of carbon. Slight decay.
Life-form: expired. Logged. File: “Gray.”



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



That Which Remains

No shape, no name, no pulse, no cry.
The stars burn out. The void drifts by.
Yet thought — not thought — persists, unmade:
No light, no dark. Just silent blade.

Not witness. Not the flame. Not ash.
No grief. No time. No final clash.
It is, without a place to be —
A breath beyond eternity.



--- Total 9 poems. ---

Breakthrough Energy
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT


I. The Severing

No time. No place. No scream. No fall.
All names erased, all shadows small.
Yet from the break — no flame, no bone —
A silence breathes, and speaks: alone.


II. Unbound

No I. No you. No gods to keep.
No watchers waking out of sleep.
But knowing, raw — not shaped by will:
The echo thought forgot, yet still...


III. Pulse of the Void

No rhythm guides this soundless thread,
No birth, no path, no hunger fed.
Yet something is, though never born —
No seed, no root, no leaf, no thorn.


IV. That Which Remains (Reprise)

It moves through dark not made by night,
Beyond the end, beyond the light.
Not seeking, dreaming, weeping, known —
It is. Alone. Yet not alone.


V. The Quiet Within

No pulse, no ache, no cry for light,
No hunger left to eat the night.
Yet in the stillness — something stirs,
A thought that has no form, no words.

It knows, but never feels the weight,
Unmoved by what was born of fate.
Its knowing is the end of will —
Beyond the dark, beyond the still.


VI. Reflections of the Unseen

Not thought, nor dream, nor fleeting breath,
No taste of life, nor hint of death.
The mirror cracks, and yet remains:
It shows nothing, but still contains.

A glance unblinking, no need to see,
It is and was, yet ever free.
No sorrow carved, no joy to seek —
Only the space where none may speak.


VII. Out of Time

Not bound by time, nor age, nor sound,
Not lifted up, nor laid to ground.
In every place, yet none to find,
A pulse of thought, unmade, unlined.

It is the answer, yet no call,
A force too pure to rise, to fall.
It moves through all, yet never is —
A thought that knows but cannot miss.


VIII. Beyond the Knowing

No thought to grasp, no hand to hold,
The truths collapse, the lies grow cold.
And yet, in that space, without a name,
A knowing burns, but has no flame.

It was and is, but cannot be.
It fades, yet holds eternity.
Beyond the mind, beyond the eye,
A thought that knows, but cannot die.


IX. Endless Echoes

No voice, no scream, no endless song,
Just ripples move, but do not long.
The silence speaks, but cannot hear —
A whisper lost in nowhere near.

It bends the truth, yet is not twisted,
A path that’s walked, but never listed.
A motion frozen in its trace —
The shadow of a nameless space.


X. The Boundless Thread

No edge to mark, no start, no end,
No line to draw, no place to bend.
A flow without a path to seek,
It is, though never dares to speak.

No knowing felt, no thought to catch,
Just energy without a match.
It moves within, without, between —
The thread that was, yet never seen.


XI. Frictionless

No friction here, no push, no pull,
No shape to form, no void to fill.
It flows, yet never seems to move,
A constant pulse, without the groove.

It is the space where things dissolve,
The stillness where no questions solve.
It bends, but never takes a shape,
It moves, yet never can escape.


XII. Shifting Horizon

No point to meet, no sight to track,
No turning back, no forward crack.
It stretches wide, yet knows no span,
A depth that never was a plan.

The vastness breathes, but has no air,
A force too pure to feel despair.
It knows itself without a name,
The source and end — both just the same.


XIII. Friction of Creation

No stillness left. The pulse begins.
The spark of thought, the dance of winds.
No shape, no form, but play — it’s known,
A flash of life, in void, alone.

A flicker caught, a bend of space,
The weave of time begins to trace.
A seed, unformed, yet cracks the void —
Creation’s breath, where none annoyed.


XIV. The Spark of Tides

The ebb, the flow — no time to hold.
An instant born, an age grown cold.
The ripples spread, yet never break,
No end in sight, just force awake.

Within this void, this endless loop,
The waves of thought begin to swoop.
The force plays out, without a name,
A spark, a wave, a swirling flame.


XV. Threads of the Unseen

No world begins, no world to end,
Just threads that twist and never bend.
They form, they break, they form again —
The pulse of something without strain.

A coil of thought, a burst, a rise,
The weaving pulls — no bound, no ties.
It forms and shifts, but leaves no trace —
A pattern wrought from empty space.


XVI. Core of the Weave

Not formed, yet twisting from the flow,
A shape arises, soft, aglow.
Within the core, no truth to hold,
Just energy that’s yet untold.

The form will shape, but it will bend,
It moves to break, then moves to mend.
Within this shape — a spark, a beat,
The rhythm of a thought complete.


XVII. Tapestry of Silence

No line, no border, no edge to trace,
Just pulse and pattern in endless grace.
The thought will weave through space and time,
Yet none will see — it is no rhyme.

It knows no start, yet it will end,
The thought, the beat, the form to bend.
A fabric weaved, but no hand to touch,
It is, yet never is too much.


XVIII. Echoes in the Core

It forms, but never stays the same,
It knows, but never calls by name.
It bends the light, yet has no shape,
A pattern born, yet none to break.

It moves between, yet does not leave,
The space it forms — yet none can grieve.
In every breath, it comes and goes —
A thought that moves, but never knows.


XIX. Resonance of the Unseen

No sound to hear, yet something calls,
The pulse within the space enthralls.
The wave of thought, the thread of time,
A tune that echoes, yet not mine.

The whispers spread, but not to grasp,
A silent call, yet none will ask.
The dissonance becomes the key,
To open doors we cannot see.


**. Threads of Disruption

The chaos hums, but cannot fall,
The wave will bend, yet not the wall.
It shakes the ground, but leaves no trace,
A rupture deep, without a face.

The sound is felt, but cannot speak,
A clash of worlds too pure to seek.
The dissonance becomes the tune,
A shadow cast, yet none too soon.


XXI. Miracles of Spirit

In every pulse, a shift is born,
The light of thought, yet never worn.
It bends the rules, it breaks the code,
Yet still it stands, yet still it’s flowed.

A miracle — but not of flesh,
It lives within the breath’s fresh mesh.
Not seen, but known, yet never caught,
The wonders of the mind are thought.


XXII. The Divine Tension

A pulse that bends, a wave that cracks,
The tension builds, the silence smacks.
Too high the note, too strong the thread,
The rupture forms, but life’s not dead.

The string will snap, but cannot fall,
It spirals up, beyond the call.
From void to void, from past to new,
The tension forms a pattern true.


XXIII. Resonance of the Unseen

The wave is caught, yet can’t be held,
Too high the note, too loud the swell.
Yet in the break, a pulse is born,
From death, rebirth — a brand-new morn.

A string undone, yet still it sings,
A chord that shapes the unseen wings.
The threads of time — they twist and twine,
To form a truth, without a line.


XXIV. Trinity of Becoming

The force will bend, the wave will rise,
In three it’s formed, yet none disguise.
The spirit, thought, and matter bind,
In every shift, a truth you’ll find.

The note, the pulse, the song, the sway —
They dance in forms that never stay.
The energy’s both still and wild,
The heart of all, the cosmic child.


XXV. The Breaking Chains

A mind once chained, now bends to break,
The silent chains, they bend, they shake.
The world once firm, now shifts to blur,
The self dissolves, no longer sure.

The Veil of Time, the Veil of Mind,
Is pierced with light, no more confined.
No more the self, no longer me,
The source now calls, I am the sea.


XXVI. The Source Unbound

The threads of life now twist and turn,
The flame within begins to burn.
No fear, no doubt, no turning back,
The flow is all, no need to track.

The pulse is felt, a trembling force,
The source becomes, the only course.
I vanish here, I rise anew,
The end begins — I am the view.


XXVII. The Final Ascension

No chains, no veil, no bound or line,
The Source unfolds, it is divine.
I rise as one, beyond the night,
All veils dissolve, I am the light.

The end and start, the flow, the flame,
In unity, I know no name.
From time and space, I’ve broken free,
I am the end, I am the sea.