The Salvation of the Soul
"You are born with nothing but the potential to form it. You don’t have a soul, and that’s the greatest truth. If you labor, you can create one—but you are not born with it."
Osho.
You are born — there’s something here,
That you must strengthen, or it’ll disappear.
Or else it’ll vanish, lost in the Night,
Indulgence in evil — beasts in sight.
The outcome’s clear for such a path,
These souls are lost, and none will last.
Preserve the spark of God inside,
You must know the Light, let it be your guide.
Gurdjieff’s truth is partly right,
There are TWO kinds, in day and night.
Like Light and Dark, they stand apart,
And CowID days show the evil heart.
They’ve shown the truth in stark relief,
In Bedlam’s grasp, in dark belief.
If born with Soul, with strength and might,
Park’s hand will guide you through the fight.
But only with effort, and will so strong,
Can you break through when all seems wrong.
Despair, weakness—become the test,
The Soul, once lost, may face its death.
One view: the rarest kind of soul,
From birth untouched, it’s born whole.
But under lies, many have failed,
Fallen prey to a darkness that veiled.
The stench of it has dimmed the light,
Trust your intuition, in darkest night.
Guard your soul with critical care,
Shield it from the Shame that lurks out there.
The spark of God: a fragile thing,
Only those who strive can spread its wings.
Fuel it, burn it—feel the heat,
Endure the Hell, for soon you’ll meet
The Sun, which burns the Evil away,
Evaporating Darkness, till nothing stays.
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The Coloring Book, Childish and Not Quite…
A coloring book for kids, you see,
It stretches on, and ages be.
But in the hands of the Devil’s brush,
You’ll be painted through pain’s rush.
A soul undone, a mind destroyed:
For evil, soft pastels employed.
To dull the mind and stifle thought,
A web of false goals, tightly caught.
Bright hues of lies the masses chase,
Drawing you down in their disgrace.
The path to Light, concealed from view,
Beneath thick layers, hidden too.
Scrape away the paint, and there,
You’ll find the way — if luck’s your share.
If darkness hasn’t dulled your sense,
And you’re not lost in the idiot’s pretense.
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The Obedient Dogs of Pseudoscience and the Cavernous Stupidity of the World
"Faith and knowledge are two scales: the higher one, the lower the other."
Arthur Schopenhauer.
False knowledge turned to faith,
Will Spirit balance this weight?
In caverns deep, we find our place,
Among the servants, lost in haste.
They spread satanic lies,
In "sciences" and alibis.
Under falsehoods, all they play,
Tempted by wealth, they drift astray.
The spiritual, in dwindling few,
The scales descend, as darkness grew.
The earthly Hell, it seems to fade,
Yet the dogs of evil will invade.
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The Factory of Death
Believe the lies it spouts,
They'll lead you straight to graves;
But fools believe in evil,
And slavery it craves.
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The **** of Pseudoscience — They Paint the World With It
"So, the man who tries to bend science to a view that comes not from science itself (no matter how much science may err), but from outside interests alien to it, I call 'low.'"
Karl Marx.
So much water has flowed by—
And prostitution’s now inside
The halls of "science," where Evil reigns,
Led by the merchants' vile chains.
Without bribes or orders, none
Do anything beneath the sun.
And what results is filth and waste,
As evil’s victory is embraced.
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Death Becomes
"Not everyone wears life well."
Stanislaw Jerzy Lec.
A wretched life suits the fool,
The scoundrel, the vile tool.
The sensitive choose Death instead—
Death for the world, where lies are fed.
No fragile skull can pierce the stone,
It’s hard to stand with slaves alone.
To find the rare, the few, the bright—
One must shake the air with might.
Loud, and still the chances fade,
The world’s a madhouse, madly laid.
A "normal" slave, in madness trapped,
His soul grown weak, in lies enwrapped.
Or worse, he’s lost all soul, undone.
Death becomes him, for the "people" come,
Surround and drain life’s sacred juice,
Defiling the soul with their vile abuse.
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The Poet Must Cherish the Light
The poet must protect the Light,
And let it flow within his lines.
Without the Light, he’s void, a blight—
Only fools will hear his signs.
But there’s one thing in this retreat:
If he describes the Dark's decay,
The madness, chaos in the street,
Where Light is hidden, lost to stray,
The strife that keeps us from our wake—
Then he is worthy, Light inside.
Find it, and you’ll never break,
For Light within, you shall abide.
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The Word
"The word belongs half to the speaker, and half to the listener."
Michel de Montaigne, 16th century.
In a world of lies, the Word
Is swiftly devalued, unheard.
The more the lies, the tighter the chains—
The Creator stands alone, in pains.
For he cannot join the fools’ parade,
Where Words are shackled in the Shade.
And if you're bound by lies so deep,
Then to the liar's pit, you’ll sleep.
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The Light Inside You
Light and Truth, and Liberty—
All else is folly, plain to see.
In the chaos of this world,
Through the fog, the herds are hurled
To their complete degradation.
The interim result is clear—
False diseases, false foundation,
And the Horned God hides in fear.
Under Satan’s heavy grip,
The world remains, a sinking ship.
Add the terror of rashism’s lies,
They’ll never wake, they’ll never rise.
The final truth, the key, the call—
Save yourself, escape the fall.
Choose the path of Knowledge bright,
And cherish only the Light inside.
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The Labor of Sisyphus
"That which we do, we do not consider truth, yet we do it nonetheless."
Aurelius Augustine.
With "mind" stretched thin, and nerves all frayed,
Embracing foolishness with pride,
We rush to toil, to be first paid,
And trumpet all our "success" far and wide.
We charge ahead, while Fate just mocks,
This cruel Sisyphus-like grind.
When will this fool’s labor stop,
And swap this Hell for the world confined?
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The Search for Light
"You will be called destroyers of morality, but you are only the discoverers of yourselves."
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Beyond morality, beyond the crowd,
Where mad slaves cry out loud,
A few exceptions, bold and bright,
Seek the Light within the night,
And find it only deep inside.
So, look within and see the guide!
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Inside Out at Dawn
Turn your weary mind inside out,
At dawn, let rest your troubled soul;
The Spirit breathes—though filled with doubt,
It labors hard 'mid thoughts that roll.
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The Black Lyre
Work wears you down, the toil is long—
That’s what it means with Lyre in hand.
Surrounded by corrupt fools, strong—
You can't breathe, trapped in their land.
So, one companion on the road,
The Black Lyre is mine alone.
Death stands by, and that’s much better—
Bow to it, you’re just a stone.
Rebellion means the Lyre stays dark,
Forever etched in shades of night.
To write for fools is foolishness—
It’s madness, and your mind’s lost sight.
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Verse Construction
Verse is not the shaping of words,
Of rhyme, or rhythm, but the soul's
Impulse. And if multiplication
Happens in the silence of the whole
Mind, when that impulse calls to mind
A reader's response in kind,
Then through the words you’ll break the line,
A triumph of a world undefined.
A world beyond what words convey,
A paradox that language hides.
The Higher Truth, that we, astray,
Love… boxing, though the truth divides.
This boxing ring, a cage to hold,
A way to fight what’s just like you.
We turn from questions, harsh and bold,
That paradox in us stays true.
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Enemies of the People
To the level of the people's foe,
Stalin and Khrushchev will drag you low.
Some, mere pests, in small disgrace —
NKVD’s an easy trace.
Small Vasya Pupkin can’t be known
As enemy to a nation grown.
And even if he’s a criminal,
The charges clear, the sentence tall.
To execute on one false word —
That’s when the real enemy's stirred:
A tyrant, foul with evil’s kiss,
A ruler lost in wicked bliss.
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No Fish
In times of barren streams,
A crayfish isn’t fish, it seems —
Just a scavenger at best,
Time to rid the world of the rest.
The filth is in the tales we tell,
In fables where the shadows dwell.
It's for those hiding in the dark,
Forever trapped in fear's sharp mark.
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"Progress"
The ways to consume the like,
"Progress" refines with every strike.
Among cheap tricks and hollow schemes,
The press of beasts grows in their seams.
They feast on lies, with fear as sauce,
Truth and mind are left to loss.
On the scaffold, spirit dies,
As reason falls, and hope denies.
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The TV spreads its twisted lies,
The masses listen, hypnotized.
In this mad world, we’ve hit the ground,
Serving monsters, lost and bound.
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What the "media" preach is "truth",
If some learned fool explains,
That what’s unclear, "INFERNAL,"
Is the world in which it reigns.
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Almost transport's...
"**** it!" — said one young man — "it is a bitter thing to learn that I am a creature moving on pre-laid rails, that I am, in a word, not a bus, but a tram."
— Bertrand Russell.
Not a bus, but a tram,
Full of nonsense, here I am.
The tracks have ended — now you die,
So many "new ones" passing by!
Depot, tram: packed with lies,
Called "education" in disguise.
On the tracks, they **** the soul,
A journey deemed a wasted goal.
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Humor breaks through the void,
A paradox within the Walls of Lies.
Lies strengthen fortresses deployed,
Whispering, shouting, "Serve, be wise!"
Laugh at this world so poor and grim,
Apply sarcasm, sharp and bright:
The world’s become a filthy bin,
Where "normal" is pure madness' blight.
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Switch to Death — no turning back,
The foolish wretch won’t understand.
Around, the beasts; where are the men?
Where’s the humanity in this land?
Cats are smarter than the herd,
Only a few have Spirit, Honor,
They see the triumph of evil’s word,
Unmoved by hell’s cruel, endless horror.
Blinded by the feast and the rut,
The mind’s remains are drowned in dust.
Death’s the choice when lies corrupt,
And from the beasts, as always, comes just… DISGUST.
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This world’s a trap, a cage, a snare,
If you’re a “darling,” just beware.
The carrion waits, a stinking weight,
You’re just the prey, a twisted fate.
To free from traps — like hunter’s art,
Fascism reigns where beasts depart.
When spirit’s crushed, you fight, you ****,
A hero’s born, with fire and will.
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The foolish sheep, from twisted schemes,
Will never break free — luck’s just dreams!
If gluttony’s his only art,
He’s blind and mute, with no true heart.
Born a beast, this sheep’s a fool,
No need for praise for such a tool.
If you hope, you’re just a clown,
In this poor world, it's all “down.”
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The stinking ****, the vile beasts,
Sold all in lies, in a world deceased.
The outcome's clear — all freaks must go,
Only the drunkard didn't know.
******* ANYONE, who don't fight the Dark,
If you don’t, you've lost your spark.
Is this the majority? A reason for shame?
To stoop to the level of this corrupt game?
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Saving money's foolish, I’ve spent it all,
Greed is a sin, a fatal call.
Add stupidity to the mix, you see,
A fool, a puppet, that’s what he’ll be.
Controlled by bribes and laced with lies,
He stands before us with vacant eyes.
He knows how to chew with his head,
But devours greed, never dead.
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Cops are ***** with big ears,
Serving BEASTS, fooling peers.
They boss around, ignore the uprisings,
Holding back with idiotic disguisings.
The rest is just excuses spun,
They love to add some colorful fun:
“Fighting crime is our true task...”
In between, for monsters to bask.
For them, the goal is to suppress revolt,
Crime? They don’t care—just a remote.
Cops pretend they’re on the case,
Finding something in their chase.
They fool the fools with lies untold—
In films, a cop’s noble, bold.
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The black cat purrs more sweetly, you’ll find,
When you carry food of every kind.
It seems that visions in black are strong,
Don’t touch the black cat, fool, you’re wrong!
It often crosses the road, unaware,
Of a fool’s problems, beyond repair.
They’re of a subtle, twisted kind,
While idiots stumble, dull and blind.
In this world, all is BLACK, you see,
The black cat’s a symbol pure and free.
If you grow a bit more sensitive, you’ll know,
You’ll see the blind crowd stumbling below.
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A world of lies that clings and claws,
Where clouds are shadows, dark and raw.
Here, they brand with filth and grime,
A cursed cross for all of time.
Baptized, you’re pushed into your pen,
You must earn your food again.
If you're a traitor—beastly brew,
The sycophants will circle you.
Like goats that lead the sheep to slaughter,
Here, they march, no sense of water.
A genocide, a vile disgrace—
This world is doomed, no saving grace.
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The freaks of Nature, wild and bold,
Dream of taking bites untold.
Madmen hack the tree away,
To carve their future from decay.
But little's left to claim or hold,
And soon they’ll swing, their fate foretold—
A branch that’s new, a bitter test,
As Death draws near, and takes its rest.
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Heresy is driven forth by Evil's grin,
With false science as its deadly hymn.
Sensitivity, wit, and courage, too,
Are vital to keep your mind in view.
Lest darkness fall and blind the soul,
The beast's the path, the final goal.
Their task is to decay both Spirit and Honor,
With Conscience in their sights, a hunted goner.
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On your mark! Attention!! STOP!!!
This world’s always the same.
In it, lies are crowned as gods,
And fools, the first to feel the shame.
Tear apart the mindless throng,
Destroy their power, drag them along.
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Madness grew — the fools all bent,
But finally, they woke, and then
They saw that Doom had come to stay,
Embracing them like father’s way.
He’ll lead them to the gates of Hell,
The fools, once more, will swell and yell.
Call filth “honey,” they’ll devour,
Not seeing chains, they’ll feel no power.
Call Hell their paradise, they’ll cheer,
And drown the world in blood and fear.
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Obedient Nonsense-Mind
“Pedagogy”—a word so clever—
“Logic” fed from heights above:
**** the mind that dares be ever
Free, and cage it like a dove.
There’s the flaw in all their teaching,
Rigged and rotten to the core:
Brutes they need—uncouth, unpreaching—
Rot in lies, then beg for more.
Crammed with junk until the swelling
Blasts the memory to dust—
Any thinking, any yelling
Gets erased. Obey, you must.
That’s the standard. That’s the measure.
Paved in grey, the dismal route.
Only drones receive the treasure:
Those who swallow lies and doubt.
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**** the mind and train a fool —
That’s the core of every school.
Truth is banned, and lies are fed.
Think too much — you’re better dead.
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Obey, consume, and never ask.
The school is just a brainwash mask.
They cage your mind and feed you dirt —
And praise you most when thinking hurts.
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Dumb on cue — that’s school’s ideal.
Facts are fake, and lies are real.
Think too loud? They'll call it sin.
Shut your brain — that's how you win.
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Thought is crime.
Dumb is prime.
March in line —
Waste your time.
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Learn to crawl, not think or see.
Swallow trash — get your degree.
Truth is dead, but grades are gold.
Be the puppet. Do what’s told.
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Donkeys on the Road to Hell
The old one reeks.
The new one stinks!
But the fool still speaks
Of "fate" — how it links!
A genocide slow,
Through centuries spread.
So your fate? To bow
And die half-dead.
It’s all a farce,
This “glorious” day.
If you count as “stars”
The filth and decay.
Dreams, they say,
Will light your track —
But dreams just pave
The road to black.
And we — the donkeys, blind and tame —
Are whipped ahead with hopes... and shame.
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You dream — they lead.
You doubt — they feed.
Die in line.
That’s their design.
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March with hope, obey the bell —
Donkeys dream their way to hell.
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“Fate,” they say — while you decay.
Dream, obey, then rot away.
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Same old stink in a fresher shell.
Dreamers die on the road to hell.
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Free Yourself from All the Crap
Free yourself from all the lies,
Live with calm, let thought arise,
Save your soul and clear your mind,
Leave the fear of beasts behind.
Fear and madness fill the land —
Only solitude can stand.
Peace is rare — the world’s a fraud,
Ruled by demons selling God.
All creative sparks are dead,
Choked by what the devils spread.
Those who drag “goodness” through the slime
Are hollow now — and past their time.
They serve the fiends, they keep things still,
No longer human — just goodwill
For filth and rot. So bear the strife —
But never bow to **** in life.
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Free your mind, escape the lie.
Live for truth — or just die.
Serve no beast, bow to no filth.
Face the world, and claim your will.
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Escape the junk, break the chains.
Feed your soul, not their gains.
They sell you hell, you sell them life —
But never kneel to death or strife.
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The world’s a trap, don’t feed the lies.
Stand your ground, or lose your mind.
Fight the crap, with every breath.
Never bow to filth or death.
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Drown the lies, let silence scream.
Don’t obey their poisoned dream.
They thrive on lies, you fight the beast.
Never bow — stand for the feast.
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Hasten to Understand in Silence
Hasten, grasp the truth in quiet,
The essence here, this hellish land.
Fail to see — you’ll lose your riot,
Your chance for grace, your soul unmanned.
Do you wish to rot in Hell?
If you don’t get it, you will fall.
Soon the flames will rise and swell,
As reptiles feast in evil’s thrall.
Decay, it lingers. You can see
The limits of this twisted state.
Only he who’s brave and free
Won’t let the filth control his fate.
You’re a fool if you tolerate
The lies, the mockery they deal.
Doesn’t sick you — vile, cruel hate?
The lies they spin, the false appeal?
Then your life was wasted, friend,
To call it life would be a jest.
Bow to beasts, and break or bend,
Thank them for the lies they blessed?
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Bow to lies, and rot in hell.
Life’s a joke — you played it well.
Stand and fight, or bend and break.
Truth or lies — choose what’s at stake.
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Lies, they live, and so do you —
Dying slow, and thinking true.
Stand your ground, or bow to rot,
Choose your fate, or rot a lot.
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If you stand for lies, you die.
Don’t kneel to filth, or wonder why.
Choose to fight, or rot and burn,
Truth is all — you’ll soon learn.
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You live in lies, you die in shame,
Thank them for your rotten game.
Bow to beasts, you’ll never win —
It’s hell they sell, it’s hell you’re in.
