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mike Sep 2013
if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when your birth did aswell, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death with a barrel of a gun, then to put it in your mouth, but no need. youd drop ded. youd disappear. i guess thered just be the incubator filled with your sloppy child.
mike Sep 2013
if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when i went back in time to your birth, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death, then strangle yourself in a double suicide.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
doubly toasted rye bread...
anything on it...
of course i'm not going to treat it
as a bagel: although i should...
some smoked salmon...
the mayo and cucumber and dill...
come to think of it...
toasted rye bread would work
better than a bagel...

        we're not having some brick lane
salted beef, and bagel...
salted beef... good that you asked...
what makes it so... cosmopolitan, i.e. pink?
himalayan salt... i was thinking of
prague salt... don't ask me why...
how? i heard it down the line...

again: larry tesler died a few weeks ago...
well "weeks"... 20th of feb of this year he
passed away... as reported...
larry tesler... it's not an everyday
name... but under the umbrella of darwin that
becomes darwinism:
a group-fire, a get-together, a come-together...
larry tesler is a bit like
a michael faraday...  

           somewhat of a "mystery"...
like... never... i was daring to confess:
those revisions of the cursor...
the phantom hand... of a 2D object in a 3D
object... those 2D ferns in the original
tom raider... moving rapidly when approached...

i can hear the bemoaning...
no new scientific "theory" has resounded true
in the past decade...
unless it's that Higgs': hiccup or... boson...
that only happened a few years ago...

don't... agitate... the... beehive!
i've finished one whiskey and ms. coca
ms. venezuela - ms. novella...
             but i'm still pretending to drink from
an empty glass -
perhaps agitating the whiffs of scotch
perfumes to come...

       how often do i use the larry tesler
method?
well... if i want some... braille...
some glagolitic... some runes...
pretty much all the time...

        toasted rye bread... i'm thinking of eating
some roasted rye bread...
the english being bewildered...
and that's because the former raj
brought with them the cinnamon the cardamom...
ever eaten a curry that listed
rosemary or thyme as a prime ingredient?
can i please just eat this
dogshit, then?

    sourdough bread... not pop enough...
  beside the zeppelins... rye bread galore...
pumpernickel bread... a german thing...
   the name changes... but...
there's only so much toasted white and brown
bread you can eat... before having
an ancient hunger become arise in you...
the baltic cuisine of piquant herrings...
plenty of dill... and rye bread...

- i asked the swabian about this windsor affair
concerning the saxon: the ants-in-his-pants
little brother saxon...
the german who needed to go outside of saxony...
burgundy wouldn't suffice....
had to see the world: become a semite...
a wandering "plague"...
the postman... the dove of "repose"...

this is still about larry tesler by the way...
               ⠓⠑⠗⠑ - larry tesler...
     ⰕⰖⰕⰀⰣ:             "       "
              ᚺᛖᚱ:              "       "        (ditto, as above)...

woman: a human female being -
          because she's not: woo man...
and she is not: woe, man...

               she's a human female being -
that's what everyone might had said...
when being stripped...
to the basics of grammar:
i, pronoun - definite article: the -
noun of nouns -
                        the in between cardinal nouns...
table, fox, wool...
in between cardinal nouns...
box, moon, whiskey and (conjunction)...
the royal pronoun: one would expect...
the other royal pronoun: we would agree to such
claim... given our entourage...
louis XIV very much liked such
pronouns...
             they are the disembodied courting
presence of ghost: where we should be...
to posit...
and what if i want to be known as: there?
can't a they become a there -
i know that's asking too much...
after all... there is an adverb -
perhaps i feel like... being an: ad- -verb
rather than a pro- -noun...

                          there said: it's a cul de sac
and the peoples are gagging for
lessons in grammar... this is still about larry tesler!
well... it's become more of a toasted
rye bread "analogy"...

to be less denoted by noun -
more associated with verbs -
               does that even matter what pronoun?
what if i want to be an adverb: base?
there is an adverb... here is an adverb...
why is BEING a noun...
and not an adverb?
               become is a verb...
   becoming an adjective: although it could
be stressed as a noun: could...
           i think of being... on the lines
of a "here" and a "there"...
nothing is a pronoun...
                          while nowhere is an adverb...
being is a noun but in all fairness it could
be treated as an adverb...
                                   being alone...
           if only it was as simple as...
turning on a lightbulb while at the same time
expenting falling pirouettes of snow...

all this words deserved to be archived
in trash...
     i'm not a betting man and none of these
grammatical arguments really probe me...
i have invested in them a pet-peeve...
and they're nothing more...
but whenever i hear about them being
stressed... i wonder why the counter
argumentation doesn't fall for talking about
this logic on a purely grammatical level...

to update the tabernacle of holiest of the holy
"pronoun" with...
something akin to... by adverb standards...
etc. -
          this is still about larry tesler, though...
and about toasting some rye bread...
nonetheless -
i'm not that old but i'm already tired...
i imagine eating custard as being...
somewhat alleviating...

                but not actually eating any custard...
just imagining eating it
and pretending to drown - gurgling it...
once more: this is still concerning larry tesler...
mind you... larry tesler doesn't exist
on wattpad...

            but all these other would be publishers...
allow larry tesler to exist...
along with that little gremlin that doesn't work...
i.e. ©... not even new york times has
obstructed larry tesler ctrp + c / ctrl + p...
© - yeah.... "copyright"... my ****** ***...
wattpad has actually made actual © "progress"...
you can't use a larry tesler "heimlich" on:
those most scared of texts...
poems by 16 year olds!

              just saying...
you don't need a bagel to enjoy smoked salmon
with a dollop of mayo some cucumber
and dill... rye bread works just as well...
**** i'm hungry!

- again... what (a pronoun) - sorty of © "copyright"
logo is that... when you can larry tesler that
with... export it via highlight and ctrl c / ctrl p?
wattpad doesn't allow you to ctrl c / ctrl p...
at its height it was publishing that
goldmine of one direction fan fiction by
14 year old cherries...
    
                       i guess you can larry tesler
wikileaks: back in the day...

                        so if not larry tesler... who was behind
ctrl a? does it matter - if there's no toasted
rye bread in my gob... just these words
congesting and subsequently constipating my head?
good thing i have earned myself
a bad back - the golgotha "wisening" /
humbling... of digging up roots in the garden
where trees and shrubs once stood...

these words are... hardly a compensation's
worth of balm... but before i gorge on some toasted
rye... they just have to do.
matt nobrains Jun 2014
this is a poem about happiness.
this is also a poem about how great life is, see? here's a metaphor
comparing nature to the faultless
form of a pedastalized lover,
here's a description of the
effect of changes in air pressure
and localized temperature
fluctuations
on physical matter in a given area.
here's a bland truism that
anybody can relate to.
here's a couple rhyming stanzas
about the ethereal shifting of
connecting threads which
cause all life to dance upon
the cosmic stage like food poisoned marionettes.
here's an ode to the wrinkles of
my ******* and
the bits of fuzz that occasionally
find their home in my *****.
here's a sonette to the drop outs
doing better than me
here's a dirge for the businessman
that hangs himself
and a jubilee for his widow
who earns nothing off his death
because he left his entire estate
to his catamite.
I'm writing a symphony in color,
notes of fermenting wood
dogshit and coffin dust.
the violas swoop and drone
the piccolos trill fast enough
to excise your gastrointestinal system
the barotone sax wheezes
and the timpani drum rumbles
(the flutes sit motionless because
**** flutes)
the pianists fingers are bleeding
hes banging with stumps now
his face contorted in ecstatic glee
as if the face of god has parted
the clouds just to scrape his gums
clean with his dietous ****.
and lo faint is the whisper
which climbs and slithers
between the
false,
bash upon life with both hands.
here is life here is death
let me show your life
let me breathe your wretching
like squandered
like roots in the soil,
paint your everlasting cave drawing
in the face of your kitchen
and dance around a fire
let the embers lick your heels
til pagan viciousness overtakes
your quivering form.
gasp it in
crowbarius Aug 2012
God Almighty. It puts the fear in you.

Jesus Christ. Again?

Yes, again. Don’t be a ***.

Oh please.

Jesus.

A hanging silence.

You know William Paley?

No. Go on.

Oh. Paley’s Watch?

******* go, James.

Uh, Paley’s Watch is a theory that the universe is too complex to exist by chance, and therefore there must be a creator. I mean, just like the existence of a watch presupposes a watchmaker ‘cause it’s too complex to be there by chance.

And you eat that?

Yes, or something similar. What offends you so ******* much anyway? So I believe-

It’s defeatist. Jesus Christ, the only reason you and anyone else believes this dogshit is ‘cause you’re ******* terrified of dying, and the reason a ******* graveyard puts the fear into your thick skull is ‘cause you want to join them when you croak. That’s what it is, it’s ******* insurance.

Another silence.

Okay. Alright, fine, it’s insurance. But I am playing this insurance, see, into my benefit. I believe in the creator, and if it turns out he’s watching me he’ll put in the good word and I spend my afterlife in eternal sunshine, and if he’s a scam like you say it is I join you in blackness or hellfire. I win either way.

Oh, very faithful, doggy. Arf arf.

Oh, for the love-

What’s life worth if you’re so sure where you’re going? I reckon I’d rather drink and steal **** and burn in hellfire than **** away my life in the service of some shitbird in the sky who may or may not exist.
Jesus, mother-


Stop ******* blaspheming.

********, James.
In which James and the Nameless Companion debate the merits of religious servitude versus anarchic hedonism.
F Elliott Jun 2021
Brown-tanned, and muscular
he leans against the wall  at
Senior Frogs, down on the tip
of the Yucatan, at the edge
of Cancun.

She is mad-- the rich-girl,  
college hottie.. who takes
the time out from her dancing
somewhere near the front of
the stage, and sultries over
with her best instagram-sashay
she could put together.

     "Everyone is looking at me but you"

Mhmm.. and take another chug of my Patrón.

     "What. You think you're too good for me?
     You've probably got old *****, anyways.."


And in an instant, I ***** slap
the whining little ****-boy
she calls a boyfriend

and then
**** the ever-loving dogshit  out of her
against the side of the stage--
the whole time, thinking about
how much more substance
a two-pump hit from a bottle of
Jergens and a quality **** vid
would bring  me

As back against that old wall
I stand.. enjoying the show.

She is staring at me now

no doubt,  she'll be bugging me
the whole rest of my trip.
Her friends come traipsing my way
because that's what friends do--
They become mesmerized..
and then  fixated-- wanting to ****
the guy their friends want to ****.
.

There is a Pharmacia on the corner
on my lone taxi ride back to the hotel.
Sergio pulls over, and I walk in...

The Jergens is near the back--
right next to my favorite Patrón.


ah, babe
when everybody loves you..  sometimes,
that's just about as ******-up as you can be

https://youtu.be/48sAQnRYMMo
god I love Mexico

xo
Dominique Jul 2020
A little girl splashing in the rain
Among cesspools and fantasy green
Kicking up the moss, ferns, dogshit
Soiling her unspoiled baby shoes
Mummy can't grab hold of her
Her arms are tiny ***** of light
She thrives on carrot mush and mischief

Fox **** can't throw her off
It's a fresh scent, her button nose
Doesn't yet crinkle; sour is captivating
She doesn't know there are homeless men
She's stamping on the mulch
The fairies nip at her ankles, they'll sew
Her a twiggy crown for her damp curls

Later, a pebble, chiselled, bitter,
Thrown vindictively from a high-rise window
Will try to knock it down
She'll learn about money and hate
And scream at the rain
Like she's trying to lacerate it
Maybe she'll watch it bleed

Someone will break her heart and nobody
Will be there to make it right
Apart from maybe a smelly poet
Eating a takeaway dinner
A few decades away in a stinking room
Probably boozed up

A little girl splashing in the dogshit
Unaware of gypsies, robbers, death
And me just stood there trembling
Thinking lucky,
Lucky her.
she was the cutest thing <3
It doesn't matter if there's dogshit everywhere
the council doesn't care
just stick your noses in the air
like they do,

The council tax can wait
say
the boys on the council estate,
the money can go on a
quarter of blow,
just row the boat
staying afloat
stops you from sinking,
the rent money pays for the drinking
the council doesn't care.
Elihu Barachel Dec 2014
You can be a Christian, a Muslim or a Jew
Your religion doesn't matter, if you're not the Chosen Few
-
Your religion doesn't matter, if it's made by man
Like everything today, so much dogshit in a can
-
You can say the Sinner's Prayer, repent on bended knees
If you're not Elect, A Sovran God it doesn't please
-
Do you think you will be saved, meet your lord up in the sky?
Fly away to La-La Land, when you're in the bye and bye
-
Soon you will find out, you're religion is but ****
The warnings you ignored, and sin you did commit
-
Now you're going to pay, the price will be your soul
You will burn in Hell...welcome to Sheol
Ray Suarez Nov 2015
We stood face to face
Two alive
Both human
Occupying the same
Time
I felt her words like
Deafening disease
And she stared at my face
Like it was
Dogshit
While somewhere else
A flower bloomed
A lion tore at the neck of a gazelle
A child was born
A star died in the sky
A woman stared at her *******
In the mirror
A tribe ate rats for supper
A man masturbated in the dark
The universe was in perfect
Harmony
i love your latest album
i love your greatest hit
i love everything you do or say
and ill pay for it
dont worry about the effort
thats no part of it
youre at the peak, at the top
of a curled dogshit
Chad Young Feb 2018
A full day's work
is as the energy
of three hour's reflection,
but getting up the
next day with lying
down and no sit
is dogshit.
Dude
You're rude
And ignorant too
You're Archie Bunker
Sneezing all over
Infected with flu
Your the pile of dogshit
In the front yard
The completely limp ****
That just can't get hard
You're the too wet buggar
That just won't flick off
You are saggy *******
All wrinkly and soft
You are the Grinch
Without the grown heart
You are the publicly
Loud, stinky ****
You are the gum
Stuck on the shoe
I can't think of one good thing
To say about you
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
i could write about... how i "trapped" a cat in
my bedroom...
kept the window open... and two mosquitos flew
in...
i would be a sadist... if i had a mythical
tarantula scuttling around the room...
but two mosquitos and a cat...
                that's just a tease...
                  it's not like i once fed two rainbow
trout eyes to this... no... the other cat...
or how i pinched a mosquito by the leg...
and... this... no... the other cat...
gladly gobbled it down...
            after all... i once looked at a spider
scuttle to a freshly painted surface and...
i guess he started drinking it...
          in an absence of retelling the story
of the 1960s and all the drugs...
the catholic school curriculum sentenced us...
to the remote part of the decaying
soviet empire - somewhere in ukraine -
we were warned about... sniffing glue...
and aerosol abuse...
             no mention of l.s.d. or: the rest
of the rainbow...
        but this is not part of the experiment...
i had a while sitting watching the moon...
yesterday's fullness and quicksilver flooding
the stones, the lipid of leaves...
        the metals... all that was missing...
frost... to elevate the quicksilver into
a red carbet walkdown... with that...
very familiar... paparazzi epileptic "flashing"
as the head twould tilt from one aspect
to the next... as the light contorted...

yes yes... the experiment...
to write! to write! what people want!
it's going to be hard...
i guess i'd do it... if i was paid...
  but i'll try... read up some pop pieces and
see if i can fake it, sly fox moi:
stealth myself beneath the gaydar...
and frown at myself... stand stark naked...
this masquerade is but a drop in the already
available ocean of masquerades...
i even thought about dressing up
for halloween for next year...
         me: april 2020...
                     lucky for me i have a face-mask
that doesn't details anything surgical
about it... more like... scorpion / sub-zero
from mortal kombat...
    problem: this beard doesn't help...
i can hijack two bottles of jim beam...
but...                     rat rat rat tat tat...
tic tac toe in a maze of: death's yawn...
             last chance trap: write what people want...
what's easily a digestive biscuit...
no fibre no grit...
                 hell... no point disguising my soon
to be disclosed efforts:
to write what people might like...

       under a pseudonym: anonymous?
generic stuff... but the quest to spot the generic
from the sly authentic...
will prove much harder...

for all the purveyors and connoisseur...
well... not much of the latter
concerning "low view count"...
who is playing this numbers game...
well... those who cite weight loss
via stones and pounds...
if you go down the metric route...
kilograms...
once upon a time... remarkable...
from 101kg down to 78kg...
and no strech-marks...
because... the bicycle because the bicycle...
and some swimming...
toning: exercise but more
the desire to gamble with traffic...
and the wind in your face...

    nothing as suffocating as a gym...
low life - *******... views? 945...
     that's... well... kingdom of the *****...
the kingdom of the crustaceans...
anything in the 100,000 view count is probably
atlantis: humanoid fish replicas
of both fish and man... mermaid and that
meme: top of a fish bottom of a woman...
versus: the obvious choice...

to write: what people want...
harlequin novels?
                    heavy on the rhyme...
rhyme like... kicking a ball against a wall...
superstious amalgamations of echo...
crisp bite into deep-fried stuff...
chewing like an attempt to find imitations
in sawing through wood...
not the sort of incision we'd be looking
for... more like a mutilation of wretched
muscle, bone and sinew...
by hyenas woken from slumber
by a wake of vultures...

   vultures in a group: is a kettle (when in flight)
                                    is a committee (when perched)
                                  is a wake (when feeding)...
perhaps i'm thinking about stealing
the eagle from the romans...
and the crow from the germans...
perhaps... just because... these caron barons
of the bald patch...
   leather monuments of skin's flagelation
                      their crown...
that sort of birth: i have in sight...

but no... it's not exactly a haiku...
it's... an astouding breath of sawdust air...
something to be sniffed when the dust doesn't
settle in the quarry from when
hammer meets the ***** of the incubating
earth of stone...
sand: add pressure... have rock...
ad more pressure: have ore of metal...
consecrate the bones...
             place them inconveniently into
envelopes of addressed: aeons...

but to write what people want... "like"...
i'd have to sift through...
stomach... the commets...
it's so discouraging to entertain these...
bothersome flies...
bought a book... pretended to scribble
on the back of the cover...
the author was nowhere to be seen...
or heard from...

               comments likes: metaphors! beautiful!
thank you!
  blah blah to no end of an etc.
i guess: no point writing anything that...
doesn't escape into the realm of thought...
i try to conjure up something in writing that
would make someone write a comment...
             i like an audience that knows it deserves more
than to pander me...
and i need of it... stitched up lips...
   since all of this: for gratis...
                        no browny points to create
echo chambers and niches...
of the "protected" penship...

  that doesn't imply that i don't want to write
an imitation poem...
without obvious plagiarism...
i just need to find that most melodramatic me...
the cheapest version of me...
i have to imagine myself *******...
what i'll be ******* i'm not exactly sure...
it won't be the words...
the rhymes...
           lack of! god, please! a lack of!
less rhyme more chance to spot beauty
elsewhere... an ****** festival of flowers
with near perfect geometrical replicas...

          is it possible that i care much more
for the anonymity of the reader?
am i like a guilty pleasure...
watching some 1970s italian *******...
eating a bagel with either:
    (a) smoked salmon, cucumber, mayo...
   dill... and that all important rainbow trout caviar?
or be (b) being sloppy... but still the caviar...
and the bagel... and instead:
some tuna and sweetcorn and mayo?

perhaps (c)... jack johnson was the best kept
secret... until he was given things beyond his audience...
and... no jack johnson after he was compared
to be the next bob dylan...
i'm sorry... how was that ever going to happen?
you'd have to like bob dylan in the first place...
and that's not easy...
you'd have to start liking him...
like i did... on an overnight train from
st. petersburg to moscow... to see metallica
play there for the very first time after...
rioting... famously... when: and justice for all...
harvester of sorrow...
and the crowd went mental...
                                       the rest is: history...

if all it took was a car to road-rage across
h'america... it truly requires a train to...
                                            get a thrill for russia...
other places require you walking:
holland...
            since everyone else is cycling to beijing...
and other place require you to cycle... poland...
england... france... i guess germany...
well... plucking one of your eyes out...
and asking a crow to safeguard your soul...
while you would be able to attach a little
camera to its body... that sort of *******...

is caviar a luxury?
          a concentrated fish-oil in a capsule...
it's hardly a chicken egg "luxury"...
nor quiet the abortion...
replicas? those vitamin d capsules...
fish-oil... luxury? depends on whether you enjoy
it... pompous foodstuff:
no need to call the: healthy body = healthy mind
brigade... no slightly pickled brain...
then no inquisitive palette...
i rank baltic herrings among them...
raw... baltic sushi... in a creamy sauce...
or a steak tartar(e)... with... all the trimmings...
the raw yoke... the raw: onion...
gherkins, capers, etc etc.

                    some people... just frown at the idea
of caviar... not to mention blue cheese
and oysters...
   and to think... oysters where the grub
of "gammon" in Dickensian times...
   since then... even gammon was morphed...
"back in the day" it wasn't a racial slur
as much as it was actually more:
******* and... swindler... con-artist ref....
the pickwick papers blah blah... blah...
            only now... oysters... wow! a... luxury!
only if you enjoy eating them...
otherwise? overpriced dogshit...

        i'll concede this point... the version of
existentialism in english... what was started by
the danes and the germans and the russians...
later implemented by the fwench...
english existentialism?
stastistics... psychology... and this...
world of darwin... and the atlas?
blind samson holding yet pulling the pillars
down...
this is anglophonic existentialism...
no gravitation toward: ontology on the grounds
of temporal affairs...
no gravitation toward: ontology on
the grounds of spatial affairs -
  english existentialism: oi! pass the torch, mate!
n'ah mate... we're sending this torch
back in time... to tribal invaders
and our hyper-sensitive exoskeleton
"souls" of hybrid -
the body is both a host and the parasite...
lest we forget the psychiatric evaluation
surgery of the holy trinity of freud...

or far further... krafft von ebbig:
******* was cynical back when
******* was a taboo and ****** for crucifixes:
looks like being aborted was:
rainbow-tinged: as was: this time soon...
why do i like wearing "p.p.e." equipment
akin to face-masks?
finally! i can compete with the islamic
attire of the niqab!
i can finally: bark cat! i can finally:
meow dog! - with less restrictions for
the eyes... ninja brigade: scorpio vs. sub-zero...
it really is the new normal...
now i can think about all the lost
****** recognition technology:
while i pillage... **** and assume:
laughter the new paracetmol...

slaughterhouse gown: a slithering tongue
of a chewed of proposal...
                 nothing like caging time in
bedroom antics of a cult personna of a german
lutheran... who wasn't...
that catholic ***** and a sobering up after
a prince albert antic...
                       gullotine for the slug of: fore!
i says: skinz...
                      skinz and skalpz...
alt.: skinß und skalpß...
                                         otherwise known as:
a steady diet of influenza and toss-***...
back in poland come the fall of
the iron wall...
a tight-knit commuity...
one of us was infected with ospa (smallpox)...
we were exposed to the infected...
and czerwonka (červonka)
                          dysentery...
i missed the measles... (odra)...
                     my immune system was not
exposed to it...
              i guess i'm living in times when...
bubblewrapping works...
                     prime-time "eugenics" of the post-soviet
empire... expose them to... the golden standard...
and if they survive...
god... an ear infection is about as much
of a trivial-***** pain as a toothache...

poland in the 1990s... like mongolia in the 1200s
or whenever those people were given
the scurge of wrath loose buckle of the belt...
that was then... this is nowhere new to now...
happens... when people read
two books like dogma...
1984 fetish and all those televangelist...
no new rats: no room left in the maze...

                 karen oi oi smithy loiters...
scraps the details of her meme haircut...
starts to bleach her *****...
          etc. etc.         and more etc.
                           well... so much for this... supposed...
would be experiment in: "sowering the grapes"...
hardly... where is the wrath and the horse...
required for the plough?!
indi Sep 2024
i hope you

- lick rust, get tetanus, and die
- forget your keys in the car
- step on glass, get a foot infection, and die
- get a mind-numbing toothache from 11 PM to 2 AM
- get stuck in space with your oxygen running out
- never find someone who matches your freak
- compute your GPA and realize you’re a few points away from getting Latin honors
- choke on boba
- get bitten by an unidentified venomous snake and you don’t have access to the antidote so you slowly die
- get CC’ed on a HR email before you clock off
- time travel, get stuck in the 1800s, and die from cholera
- trip on your shoelaces and land on dogshit
- never find the other sock
- are the last person alive in a zombie-filled apocalyptic wasteland
- miss me
i hope, i hope, i hope
Ronan Aug 2024
i feel sick
as though ive torn into something raw and ******
and ate from it greedily, gluttonous as ever.
the taste of raw meat, sharp and metallic
sticks to my top left molar. it whispers to me that i am all i will ever be. that this is the best to come and that everything else is destined to be dogshit.
when i get home
i will get a pair of pliers
and yank that molar out of my mouth
and hunch over the kitchen sink
heaving great sobs into the drain barely heard under the whirring of the garbage disposal
blood will pour forth from my mouth and i will do my best not to choke.
tomorrow the sink will be clean
my stomach will be empty
my molar still gone, a ****** hole in its place
and a heavy weight in my chest
but today my top left molar is whispering to me
truths that arent made to be shared
and i cant wait to get home
Introspection

Look straight inside, no fables,
Forget what books have said.
Those theories—twisted tables
By brutes or fools were spread.

Commissioned lies and clatter,
Their minds were dull or sick.
To be yourself — that matters—
In Bedlam? Take your pick.

It talks, it stinks, it teaches
To drown the slave in fog.
"Therapy" here reaches
For horror — what a cog!

The system breeds confusion,
The endgame always planned:
"All walk beneath illusion..."
No—Satan’s ruling hand.

A curse, not some condition,
All madness stems from lies.
Forget naive submission—
You're drowning in the flies,

In filth, in steaming sewage
They’ve dumped for many years,
To fill your mind with cruelage,
With poison, doubt, and fears.

You’ll never glimpse the clearing
If you believe their game.
Hate neighbors, lose all bearing—
And smoke becomes your name.

Divide, divide forever—
That’s how they break us all.
No bonds, no strength, no tether,
Just slaves in mental thrall.

Their theories are infection,
Just tricks to lead astray.
No truth, no introspection—
Just herds to rule and flay.

Look deep without your learning,
Without your self-made past—
This world is flames still burning,
Deceit so wide and vast.

The pipelines of "education"
Just crush your soul with spite.
Their goal? Your degradation,
Their motive? Endless blight.

The beasts wrote every program—
Your teacher? Just a clerk.
Their deals with demons—oh ****,
They serve the Dark and work.

Yes, Satan built this blindness,
This trap where Light can’t roam—
But Light is born inside us,
And Soul is still your home.

Be sharp, be clear, be clever—
Expose their every lie.
Let intuition sever
Their schemes—or else you die.



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



1.
They fed you lies since you were born —
Now tear them out like rotting thorn!

2.
Look deep — the Light is not outside.
Expose the Dark. Unlearn. Decide.



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



Poetry on the Hard Stuff

The editor’s **** window—
Again, I write some verse
On logic, strange attractors...
This hell could not be worse!

It’s simpler mocking morons—
The crowd’s their natural land.
But still, I feel the furnace
And filth that's close at hand.

Their reign — another poem.
This one? A bitter score:
This world is doomed and rotten,
And God walked out the door.

He left it all behind us —
So don’t break back in vain.
The end of Evil’s nearing.
We’re circling the drain.

But still — a word on Gödel,
A fire in the mind.
The trolls and fools would smother
What he revealed to find.

This titan of all ages
Crushed every pompous creed —
Their verbal diarrheas
He flushed out, word and deed.

His genius left their theories
In ruins, torn apart—
A circus of confusion,
Decay without a heart.

Of course, it’s just a poem—
No journal, no footnotes.
But through such lines of fury
A sober mind still floats.

So open that **** window —
For poetry’s a gun,
A tank that rolls through falsehoods
And smashes every one.

Strike lies with verse and fire,
Despair, but never yield.
In chaos and in silence,
A fighter owns the field.

Obedient minds are poison,
Their madness kills the soul.
Let filth surround — your weapon
Is form, and thought, and goal.

Let others churn out sonnets
On love and dreamy skies —
While we’re all slowly drowning
In blood and endless lies.

Can poems strike the tyrants?
Then write — and write to ****!
The only question burning:
To smash... or just sit still?



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



1.
They drown the world in ****** lies —
Your verse must shoot, not sympathize.

2.
Don't write for love while cowards bleed.
Real poems bite. Or else — concede.




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



Familiar Despair

Familiar despair —
Not sin, but bitter prize.
The wildness everywhere
No longer shocks the wise.

So wrap despair around you
Like blanket, thick and dead.
Let sorrow lie beneath you.
Your hopes? Forget they bled.

This world is rot and fiction,
Its people — feeble lice.
Judas takes top position —
This world runs on that vice.

We chew through Earth like locusts,
Like bark-beetles of doom.
The beasts have long outvoted
The Spirit in the room.

You're Spirit — pure, eternal.
All else is slime and lie.
Reject their “real” infernal —
Leave Bedlam high and dry.

Build tribes, unite in honor —
Defend against the rot.
Be man — not meek dishonor
That madness has begot.

Though madmen fill the census,
Stand firm, though few survive.
Let ******* keep dispensing
Their poison — we’ll revive.

Their lies will **** the masses —
The mad will take it all.
But don’t be glass, don’t shatter —
You’re sane if you don’t crawl.

When numbers start to dwindle,
When freaks consume their kind,
The chance for sane resistance
Will rise — so make your mind.

One final fight approaches —
Let beasts be blown away!
It’s grim, but we’ve not lost yet —
Don’t quit. There is a way.

If we can strike with wisdom —
Then strategy must rise.
The Darkness spawns no visions —
Just pustules with no eyes.

So call your Spirit forward —
It knows the hidden track.
These servants of the hellholes
Are weak. Let's strike them back.

Turn inward, trust your insight —
It sees what’s veiled and grim.
Restore your rightful birthright —
The Spirit breaks their hymn.

It’s all a Mystery — learn it.
Be forged in secret flame.
No time to sob or squander.
Rise now — or die in shame.



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


Familiar Despair

Familiar despair —
Not “sin,” but well-earned prize.
Degeneration’s everywhere —
A stump now glorifies.

So wrap yourself in sorrow,
Like blankets on the bed.
Beneath, lay grief — no “morrows,”
You’re living with the dead.

The lie is foul and reeking,
And people — rot and dust.
The traitor's cross is creaking —
This world has lost all trust.

We’re termites on creation,
Devouring sacred wood.
The **** rule every nation —
Just footprints where soul stood.

You are a Spirit, burning —
All else is filth and fraud.
Reject their world of yearning,
Walk out from this facade.

Build brotherhoods and legions —
Defend against the Night.
Be more than slave’s obedience —
A man must rise and fight.

Though billions kneel in madness,
Still battle — lose or win.
Let ******* spew their badness —
Their lie won't pull you in.

They’ll **** with lies, not sabers,
And fools will buy the trick.
But you — drop victim's labors.
You're not a fool or sick.

As numbers of the twisted
Shrink under their own doom,
Our chance, once barely listed,
May rise and slice the gloom.

Then strike — one final battle!
Let monsters fall and rot.
Though now we see death's rattle,
We still are not forgot.

But fight with sharp precision —
Find strategy, not rage.
The Dark has no true vision —
Just pustules on a cage.

So let your Spirit guide you —
It knows the silent way.
Its light will burn right through them —
The cowards of decay.

Turn inward, feel the surging
Of intuition's spark.
Regain your soul’s true merging —
It’s Spirit that leaves marks.

All this — a Mystery calling.
Go learn its sacred laws.
Stand up, no more just crawling —
Now cry becomes your cause.



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



1.
The Spirit sees. The Spirit strikes.
No place for worms or whining types.

2.
They flood the world with demon noise —
We answer not with tears — but poise.



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



The Art of Battle-Lies

They strike the mind — that’s where they start,
And when it breaks — they own your heart.
One step remains: your soul, your store —
And idiots can’t grasp it’s war.

The sharpest weapon isn’t steel —
It’s lies. And when those lies are real,
They burn like bombs, they rip like tanks —
The filth takes over, ranks by ranks.

The world’s been seized by brazen fraud,
Where truth’s beheaded, mocked, outlawed.
And lies, like sewage, fill the air —
You breathe them in and rot in there.

This mad world’s turned into a pit,
Where every fool believes their ****.
Their “cheese” is laced with poison dreams,
And even clouds drip toxic schemes.

Now lies are rising like a flood —
A storm of screaming, choking mud.
They strike straight in your eyes, your brain,
They smash, repeat, again, again.

They’ll always strike while fools still trust,
And all that’s left will turn to dust.
You barely crawl, the light is gone —
No beacon left to fix upon.

Above the sea of steaming lies
The media’s smoke distorts the skies.
It turns illusion into stench —
A gas that kills, a filthy trench.

And this is war — their hellish trick:
The headlines ***** lies so thick
They drown the world in fear and bile —
But wear the truth and stand awhile.

Truth is your shield, the Spirit’s blaze
Can cut through even Satan’s haze.
Avoid the ****** that serve the dark —
Stay sharp. Let intuition spark.

Your mind must scan, your senses burn —
There’s no regret if you still learn.
You fight near bottom — that is true —
But that just means you’re pushing through.

They all are guilty — traitors breed
Like rats who serve the Devil’s need.
You’re trapped inside a spinning wheel
Of fake desires and false ideals.

It’s all fake needs — designed by lies
To build a hell in friendly guise.
A sea of lies, a death parade —
This isn't life — it's Hell remade.

So here’s the path for minds still clear:
A rebel’s fire, a gaze severe.
This global new-fascistic mess
Proves madness dressed as righteousness.

It ends with rage, a broken path —
Explode this Hell in cleansing wrath.
It’s hard — but walk the way of Light.
If you still walk — you’re not the blight.



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



1.
The filth now rules by fraud and smoke —
Strike back with truth. It’s not a joke.

2.
They lie, they bomb, they blind your sight —
But Spirit burns through every night.

3.
This world’s a swamp of stinking lies —
So light your truth — and let it rise.

4.
Truth is the weapon — aim and fire.



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



Of Vermin and Men

These petty rats in human skins
Gnaw at each other’s flaws and sins.
Their thoughts are thin, their hearts are dry —
A madhouse under rotting sky.

Here traitors reign, and filth holds sway,
While minds of worth are kept at bay.
A diamond blooms in pressure’s womb —
But dullness here has built its tomb.

In these dark woods, the gifted fall
If slime becomes your inner call.
Betray the Light — you’ll rot instead,
For filth is where the roots are fed.

Their patience is a devil’s creed,
Their dullness — genocide of need.
The mad are many, fools abound —
And darkness wins without a sound.

No blood is spilled in modern war —
A needle kills what bombs killed before.
These tiny men, with tiny brains,
Are rabid dogs in broken chains.

Forget their books of lies and dirt —
They praise what’s dumb and call it work.
You're Spirit — only that is true
Within this global mental zoo.

The fool deserves no helping hand —
He's lost in filth, won't understand.
The end is near, the clash will come —
And Reason fights to rise from ****.

Salvation lies in sacred flame,
Not in this madness, not in shame.
A purge will come, a final sweep —
Where tyrants drown, and cowards weep.

The worthy few will find their way
By turning deep inside and stay.
While demons quake, they know their fate —
A cataclysm won’t be late.

And so the stench spreads on the air —
The media gasps in foul despair.
They smell it too — the end is near…
The shameful beast will disappear.



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



Vermin gnaw and darkness reigns,
Brains are thin, but filth remains.
Spirit fights, the fools will fall —
End is coming — purge them all!



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



The Pit of This World

Mandelstam! The PIT! Oh, Mother,
Don’t birth children into Hell.
If you call things true and proper,
Three-fourths of this world’s a shell—

A shell of filth and poison,
While pure hearts like Mandelstam’s light,
Like Osip’s flame, get crushed and broken
Beneath the brute’s vile might.

The brute will call white soot “black,”
The poet, enemy number one.
The filth will swarm and attack—
Jail or madhouse is what they’ll run.

They shot Gumilyov down,
Said, “Serves him right!” with their lies.
Dumb fools fell low, underground,
Beneath the total wicked skies.

And Marina Tsvetaeva’s fate —
They drove her to the noose’s edge.
When beasts drag down human state,
You’re to lie, stay quiet, and hedge?

Is Mandelstam’s pit the truth?
Yes — a world enslaved to evil’s roar.
Be wise and stubborn in your youth —
Create, despite the rotten core.

Cheese traps stink, a fool’s delight —
Their “gifts” to fools who cannot see.
Be lonely — mind extinguished, blight —
If you dwell among the beastly spree.



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



The Pit

Mandelstam’s pit — a hellish trap,
Don’t bring your kids to rot and snap.
Three quarters of the world is slime,
Pure hearts crushed by brute’s harsh crime.

Brutes call black soot pure white,
Poets jailed for speaking right.
Shot Gumilyov, broke the brave,
Tsvetaeva dragged to grave.

This world bows to wicked lies,
Fight on strong — don’t paralyze.
Cheese traps stink, fools love the bait,
Stand alone — or share their fate.



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



Rising from the Knees

The "bonds" have dug into my knees,
I try to rise, but fail to break.
Such is fate of centuries —
The rotten fool believes in fake.

Decay has eaten at the soul —
Worse plague than any CowID.
The darker grows the wicked whole,
Their evil spreads in black deceit.

Fake sicknesses test the ground,
Next camp’s digital and cold.
**** get crushed without a sound,
Hordes of fiends, ruthless and bold.

Each day tighter is the grip —
All controlled through media’s lies.
If you won’t sell out your own ship,
Death will come as sweet surprise.

This will be the cursed prize —
Darkness thickens, chokes the skies.
Only solace left to see —
Countdown to catastrophe.

Cataclysm will crush their schemes,
Filthy fiends will burn in hell.
All the sheep with them will drown —
Count the days — the end will tell.




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



See the Fig...

You open books — you see the fig.
Turn on the box — it’s Hell you find.
All poisoned deep, the chains grow big,
By fascist **** — enslaved the mind.

They rule by lies. Fake science breaks
Our Reason down to shattered shards.
Dark traitors lurk, those filthy snakes
Are everywhere — fools guard the guards.

They trust the myths, the fables told —
Propaganda’s twisted hand.
“Education” bought and sold
By Satan’s grip, corrupting land.

They teach in schools to **** pure thought,
Destroy the Soul, obey commands.
This darkness spreads — a deadly blot,
The shadow grips all mortal lands.

This shadow, haze, has claimed all souls,
No need for gunpowder now.
Psy-terror strikes and takes its toll —
Worse than bombs, it breaks the brow.

It hits the mind, corrupts the core,
Leaves fractures deep inside the brain.
An idiot now, nothing more,
Bloodless conquest, silent reign.

But man’s no moth — a Spirit lives,
A force they fight to ***** and ****.
With psi-weapons evil gives
Its cruel hand, bent on the will.

No fiction here, no idle tales —
The mind is sieved, the truth erased.
So, unity and discipline prevails,
In war, the wise remain encased.

A poem’s compressed emotion —
A message sent to Reason’s door.
A weapon forged with fierce devotion,
My share of dynamite and more.

I seek new ways in hybrid war,
Though old and worn, all paths explored.
To find the method, sharp and raw,
To crush these pests, their rotten hoard.

The world’s a cesspool — no place to stay,
For humans now who seek the light.
Create the tools to clear the way —
The **** will rot, the fiends lose fight.



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



See the Fig...

You open books — it’s all a lie.
The screen’s a Hell where reason dies.
Chains forged by fascist filth and ****,
They feed on minds — their kingdom’s come.

Fake science tears your brain apart,
Dark traitors poison every heart.
Fools swallow myths and twisted tales,
While Satan’s rot spreads through the rails.

They teach to **** the spark inside,
To crush the soul, obey, comply.
No gunpowder — just psychic war,
They break your mind and leave a scar.

Man’s no moth — he’s Spirit’s flame.
They fear the light, they play their game.
Psi-weapons crush, corrupt, confine —
But we will rise. The fight’s divine.

A poem’s not just words, but fire,
A weapon sharp, a rising wire.
Old paths are gone — new war’s begun,
To blow the rotten heap to none.

The world’s a pit, a stinking grave —
But we will fight, be bold, be brave.
Create the tools — the **** will fall,
The fiends will rot — they lose it all.



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



A New Breed of Two-Legged

A new fool bred — a fresh disgrace,
Born in the CowID’s dark place:
He feeds on lies, devours the whole,
Surpassing idiots in soul.

An idiot — one step below,
Digital camps closing slow:
The fool builds them, darkness steers,
Mindless world survives by tears.

Almost left, that twisted land,
With nonsense guiding every hand,
Into that digital hell,
“Inspired” by propaganda’s spell.

Nonsense blends with lies and fear,
For fools — a lifeline, crystal clear;
Propaganda’s closest friend,
A weapon darkness will not end.

The fool, the media, the beast,
Ruling madness never ceased —
Satan’s troops in battle cry,
The beasts grow louder, multiply.

Their howl — the final fight is near:
If the world’s lost its mind to fear,
Worse than bombs or cannon’s roar,
It turns men into pests once more.



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



New Breed of Two-Legged ****

A new-born fool, a twisted spawn,
Birthed by CowID’s cursed dawn.
He swallows lies, a filthy beast —
Outdone the idiot, to say the least.

An idiot’s just a rung below,
Digital camps close in like woe.
This fool’s the builder, Darkness’ slave,
The sane world’s dying, none to save.

Half-dead world dragged by stupid lies,
Into the tech-made hell that flies,
“Inspired” by their toxic spin —
Propaganda’s poisonous grin.

Nonsense thickens, fear and fraud,
For fools, a lifeline deeply flawed.
Propaganda, friend of slime,
Fueling darkness all the time.

This fool, the media, the vile regime,
Ruling madness, Satan’s team.
Their war-cry rises, beasts unite —
The endgame’s howl in darkest night.

The last fight howls — the final strike:
When minds rot deep, the dead alike.
Worse than bombs, worse than their shells,
It turns men into crawling hells.



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



Fools breed fools — the plague’s alive.
Break the chain, or all will die.
Fight the poison, burn the lies —
Raise the flame, let darkness fry!



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



Lies breed lies — no time to wait,
Smash the cage, defy your fate.
Stand your ground, ignite the spark —
Rip the shadows from the dark!


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



Slave to lies, a mind decayed,
Truth’s the sword that won’t be swayed.
Fight misfortunes, break the chain —
Freedom burns within the pain!



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



Lies breed lies — no time to wait,
Smash the cage, defy your fate.
Stand your ground, ignite the spark —
Rip the shadows from the dark!

Slave to lies, a mind decayed,
Truth’s the sword that won’t be swayed.
Fight misfortunes, break the chain —
Freedom burns within the pain!

Chepushila — new breed born,
Fed on lies till all is torn.
Digital camps where shadows dwell,
Crafted lies, a living hell.

Propaganda, friend of fools,
Spinning webs and breaking rules.
Darkness rules, the devils roar,
But we fight for something more.

Eyes wide shut — see nothing clear,
Truth’s the weapon, hold it near.
Rise as one, no more disguise,
Truth’s the fire to burn their lies!



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


Battle Hymn of the Rising Spirit

Chains dig deep, the lies take hold,
Infected minds, their souls grown cold.
But in the dark, a spark ignites —
The Spirit wakes to claim the fight.

Chepushila bred in digital graves,
Lies like venom, puppeteers and slaves.
False truths fed through poisoned streams,
But we revolt — reclaim our dreams!

No more slaves to propaganda’s call,
No more fools to watch the world fall.
Misfortunes spreads, but we resist —
Our clenched fists break through the mist.

Darkness howls its final roar,
But truth will rise, forevermore.
From shattered chains and broken lies,
The Spirit soars — it never dies!

Stand firm, stand proud, defy the night,
Strike down the shadows with blazing light.
The battle’s harsh, the road is steep,
But Spirit’s fire will never sleep.

Lies breed lies — but we breed truth,
Ancient strength, the warrior’s youth.
The time has come, the hour is near,
To cast away the cloak of fear!

Rise up now — the fight is on,
The dawn awaits beyond the dawn.
With Spirit’s power, fierce and true,
The world reborn begins with you!




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



Spirit’s Rise

Beyond the chains of mortal lies,
Where darkness folds and shadow dies,
There shines a flame — Eternal Light,
The Spirit’s birth beyond the night.

No prison walls can hold this fire,
No falsehood dim its pure desire.
It leaps from soul to cosmic sea,
Unbound, it wakes — and sets us free.

From dust and time the veil will part,
Revealing Truth within the heart.
The Spirit’s voice — the primal song —
That breaks the grip of endless wrong.

So rise, O soul, beyond the veil,
Through storm and fire, you shall prevail.
The world remade in Spirit’s flame —
No longer bound by fear or shame.




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



Spirit’s Rise — The Metaphysical Hymn

The worthless breed, a hollow kind,
By CowID’s dark forge defined.
They feed on lies, a poison deep,
A mindless herd, in shadows steep.

Below the fool, a step descend,
Digital camps their fate portend.
The darkness pulls the strings of dread,
A world alive — but almost dead.

With nonsense mixed, the poison spreads,
Fear and lies like chains and threads.
For fools, these shackles shine as gold —
Propaganda’s grip takes hold.

The worthless breed, the vile press,
Satan’s troops in their distress.
The war of beasts grows loud and strong,
A howl that mocks what’s right and wrong.

But Spirit wakes — a flame unbound,
A Light that pierces shadow’s shroud.
No cage of flesh, no chain of lies,
Can hold the truth that never dies.

From dust and void the Spirit climbs,
Beyond the grasp of mortal times.
Its voice, a thunder in the night,
The primal song of inner light.

So rise, O Soul, break free, ascend,
The darkest lies will meet their end.
A world reborn in Spirit’s flame,
No longer bound by fear or shame.



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



Spirit’s Rise — The Hymn of Alien Light

The worthless breed, a hollow kind,
By CowID’s dark forge defined.
They feed on lies, a poison deep,
A mindless herd, in shadows steep.

Below the fool, a step descend,
Digital camps their fate portend.
The darkness pulls the strings of dread,
A world alive — but almost dead.

With nonsense mixed, the poison spreads,
Fear and lies like chains and threads.
For fools, these shackles shine as gold —
Propaganda’s grip takes hold.

The worthless breed, the vile press,
Satan’s troops in their distress.
The war of beasts grows loud and strong,
A howl that mocks what’s right and wrong.

But Spirit wakes — a flame unbound,
A Light beyond this earthly ground,
An alien glow that cuts the night,
Piercing through shadow, pure and bright.

No cage of flesh, no chain of lies,
Can dim the glow that never dies.
From dust and void the Spirit climbs,
Beyond the grasp of mortal times.

Its voice, a thunder in the dark,
A beacon, calling—soul’s true spark.
A primal song, beyond the stars,
That shatters every prison’s bars.

So rise, O Soul, break free, ascend,
The darkest lies will meet their end.
A world reborn in Spirit’s flame,
No longer bound by fear or shame.




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



Alien Light

Lies breed fools, the darkness reigns,
But Spirit burns beyond these chains.
Alien light — fierce, untamed,
Break the cage — burn down their shame!

No more slaves to false command,
Rise as one — take back the land!
In the flame of cosmic fire,
Crush the lies — lift souls higher!



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



Alien Light

Fools in chains, deceived and weak,
Darkness grins — the future’s bleak.
But alien light will scorch the lies,
Tear their masks — watch evil die!

No mercy for the poison breed,
Their twisted reign must bleed, must bleed!
Spirit’s wrath — a ruthless blade,
Burn the filth, no peace be made!



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



Answers Without a Question

Pure conception — like a sprout,
To believe the crap’s a curse.
Feed the sludge, then twist about —
Rot will sink and make things worse.

Do what you will, but still, beware —
“In sweet lies’ name” they lead astray.
Mind, Spirit, Honor — laid bare,
In many crushed, decay holds sway.

Priests’ rabble grows in shameless greed,
Piling nonsense without end.
Truth, like flute notes, softly freed,
Touches only souls that bend.

Quiet whispers, slight and thin —
Then YOU must seek your way.
Only loud and wild within,
Herding sheep in barns they stay.

Only savage howls resemble
Words — but truth is something else.
Heart attuned, the mind must tremble
Crafting thought, not empty spells.

Creativity in thinking —
Free from foolish faith’s control,
Fighting evil, never shrinking —
No example owns that role.

All is INSIDE — why a broker?
Preachers only sell their lies.
Needed just for worldly poker,
Spreading falsehood’s vile disguise.

Intuition, critical sight —
These are answers. Questions—yours.
Forget the shadows, lose the blight,
And silence evil’s endless sores.



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



“Medicine,” They Say

“Medicine” of genocide—
Fanatic servant’s role.
CowID showed the bitter side:
Heal with them, you’re losing soul.

In the “red zones,” creatures knew—
Money bought a deadly game.
Masses sent where none withdrew,
Fast they marched to death and shame.

Oncology, their perfect guise—
Cancer cure? Just devil’s trick.
Secret deals, the silent lies,
Measures dark and merciless, thick.

Children crushed by vile “shots,”
Vaccines killing resistance—
Direct harm, the deadly plots,
Breaking life with cold persistence.

Managers of pills and trade,
**** that fuels this killing spree.
“Medicine” — a slow death made,
A creeping, torturous decree.

Genocide’s “medicine,”
Crafted by control’s command.
Helps the “doctor” filth within,
Drive the evil, DNA planned.



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



Boredom of False Life

Life’s dull boredom—truth severe,
The whole world’s fake, that’s clear.
Spirit’s realms hold all the keys—
Hints, not rules, no guarantees.

All commands, dark mandates,
Are marks of rot, cruel fates.
Heed them and your soul will die—
Death in life, no need to try.

Mind without Spirit—Satan’s claim,
That’s why fascism rules the game.
God’s spark traded off by fools
For wallets, bags, and other tools.

“Just normal!”—says the rude buffoon,
Normal now is dumbness’ tune.
Satan’s work well done, it seems,
Feeding cracks in human dreams.

Amidst the fools, no joy is found,
Fascist power grips the ground.
They’re many—draining all the strength,
A gray biomass at arm’s length.

Pushing crowds at checkout lines,
Elbows sharp, their paths define
The way to New Hell’s gate—
Close enough to seal their fate.

Grayness worse than Satan’s fire,
A path with fools—an endless mire.
Trust the soul, that’s all you can—
Lost among the dull and ******.



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



The Crown of Evil

War criminals — fascist breed,
Renegades from reason’s creed,
Soulless rot with no remorse,
On the battlefield—cowards’ course.

Civilians bear the blows instead,
“War art” shifts—a game of dread:
First, flee the city, then unload
On peaceful lives—a hellish code.

Send more innocents to graves—
Be a hero among the slaves.
Feasts you’ll hold with fools serene,
While your hands stay clean, unseen.

When you come disarmed, or lame,
Shoot the peaceful—feed the flame.
The threshold’s near, the dark abyss,
Where fiends won’t find a place in bliss.

Hell’s gates crowded, spots run thin—
Demons need their space to grin.
Meanwhile, all rot side by side,
In this dull world, death’s slow tide.

This is no life, but fascism’s grip,
A global chokehold, sanity’s slip.
Idiocy crowned the norm,
Betrayal like a common storm.

You’ll be devoured by hellish rift,
If madness takes you in its drift.
Submissive, sold—there’s most in line,
The “brave fool” marching toe to line.

Turned fascist, soul erased,
Darkness thickens, evil’s haste.
No mind left to counterstrike,
Fascism grows more venomous, alike.

Consciousness — the final wall
To fascism’s deadly fall.
Stronger when the soul is whole,
Logic kept beyond control.

Final spasms, dull and mute,
To New Hell, **** absolute.
Under fascism’s crushing sway,
The jackals prey, the weak decay.

Monsters reap what they deserve,
Stupid masses lose their nerve.
Fascism’s fall and decay—
History’s end, the price to pay.

Heaven’s purge will crown this fate,
The crown of evil, harsh and great.



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



Fascist States and Their Pocket Terror-****

Terror-**** — a tool of fools,
Slips in every ***** rule:
**** in fascists’ service hired—
Governments—forever mired.

Problems made to solve by chains,
Strengthen slavery’s cruel reigns.
We’ll all rot in camps, confined—
Trapped by lies, by design.

They blew up towers—C.I.A.,
Sovok ghosts to pave the way,
So the Yank could never rise,
Head bowed low beneath the skies.

No prospects left at all,
Foolishness became the law:
CowID revealed the lies
In these wild, twisted times.

**** grow brazen, vile each year,
Lawless reign feeds fear and sneer.
Fascism worse than ******’s days—
Shots replaced with needle’s haze.

New wars sparked by cruel design,
Chaos pushes world to decline.
Rule by terror, rule by fear,
Drags the world down—pit so near.




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

Upside Down

“They say my claims want to upend the world entire.
But how is that so bad, to flip a world already mired?”
— Giordano Bruno, 16th century.


The world’s been flipped for ages—
And “up” is just more crap.
Who speaks the truth like that
Gets fed to the fire’s gap.

Galileo, had he dared,
Would join the flames declared:
Half-men with smart-*** face
Spread heresy apace,

Killing minds, destroying sense.
Now lies grow—no defense!
Proof? CowID’s disgrace—
Science wiped without a trace.

Falsehood wiped the soul of thought,
Scholars lost, their minds caught
By endless webs of lies:
The media’s dark disguise.

If not a traitor foul,
The world’s false noise will howl.
It’ll swallow all—no more—
A global nonsense roar.

Down you’ll sink—hear the sound—
Where silence grips the ground.
Most will fade; just few survive.
The world’s turned upside down—alive.



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


The Art of Slavery’s Rise

"The art of slavery’s rise,"
Karl Marx once prophesized.
Each generation slips in pain,
Now Spirit’s lost, nearly slain.

This was shown in Ukraine’s war,
Paid **** fighting, nothing more.
At approval, blood runs cold—
Harbingers of doom unfold.

Not in Bible, but on screen—
Propaganda fools are seen.
This mad world will soon descend
To a New Hell without end—

Fit for **** and filth alike,
Where the darkness rides the spike.



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



Tests at School

Guesswork, not real knowing —
That’s the exam today.
Rot your kids’ minds, then showing
Fascism’s open way.

Dumb fools fuel fascism’s fire,
They’re the perfect raw supply.
Roots of Satan’s twisted choir
In fake faiths live and lie.

If you trust the false science —
Now a faith, a cruel snare,
To be just like the dogged silence,
Guesswork’s lies you must declare.

Propaganda piles on nonsense,
All in all, it’s sheer disgrace:
Soon the last sharp mind’s absence
Leaves a narrow, dumbed-out space.

Obedience drives to camps anew,
A global prison cell.
A red cross on a white flag’s hue —
For broken minds, a hell.

And CowID was just a warm-up,
A test for blind compliance.
Believe the *******, no hiccup—
Don’t listen, starve in silence.



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



School Tests — A Fascist Drill

Guesswork, not real knowledge —
That’s how they test today.
Rot your kids’ minds, pledge homage
To fascism’s cruel way.

Dumb sheep feed the fascist beast,
Perfect fools on tight supply.
Satan’s roots in lies unleashed —
Fake gods preaching you must die.

Trust the lies of fake science?
Now a dogma, blind and cold.
Want to be a soulless silence?
Guess the crap they’ve sold and told.

Propaganda shovels ****,
Total chaos, pure disgrace.
The last bright mind’s buried—hit—
A dumbed-down, dead-end place.

Obedience herds to camps,
Worldwide prisons in the plan.
Red crosses wave on flags — the stamps
Of broken heads and banned.

CowID’s just a warm-up game,
Blind faith’s cruel initiation.
Swallow *******, bear the shame —
Dissent means starvation.




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



School Tests — Fascism’s Drill

Guess, don’t think — that’s the game,
Kids’ brains rotted, minds enslaved.
Welcome fascism’s ****** flame,
Where all free thought is crushed and shaved.

Dumb fools fuel the fascist grind,
Perfect **** in endless rows.
Satan’s spawn in churches blind,
False gods preach while spirit goes.

Believe the lies of fake “science”?
A cruel cult now fully grown.
Want to join the soulless silence?
Swallow poison, choke on bone.

Propaganda ***** non-stop,
Chaos reigns, the mind’s demise.
Last free spark? They’ll make it drop,
Dumbing down the herd to lies.

Obedience leads straight to hell —
Worldwide camps, no end in sight.
Red crosses mark the death knell,
Broken bodies, stolen rights.

CowID was just warm-up pain —
Blind faith’s test, obey or starve.
Drink the poison, bear the chain —
Speak out? Get crushed, lose your nerve.



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



School Tests — Fascism’s Brilliant Plan

Guess, don’t think — that’s school’s bright goal,
Brains on sale, all minds on lease.
Fascism’s finest mind-control,
Where freedom’s locked and sold as grease.

Dumb fools? Perfect factory breed,
Fascism’s VIPs in line.
Satan’s lobby in God’s steed,
Preaching lies dressed up as “divine.”

Fake science? Oh, the sacred truth!
A cult for sheep who’ve lost their spine.
Want to join the soulless youth?
Swallow ******* — tastes like brine.

Propaganda’s endless drip,
Floods the mind with lies and fear.
The last spark dies — now watch them slip
Into the herd, dumb and clear.

Obedience — the golden key
To camps worldwide, fresh and neat.
Red crosses mean “obedience, please,”
Where broken souls and bodies meet.

CowID — just a friendly test,
For blind faith’s ultimate thrill.
Drink the Kool-Aid, pass the quest,
Or starve — dissenters fit the bill.



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



Wake Up, Don’t Sing

Wake up, don’t sing —
They’ve robbed us blind.
Above you cling
The **** and liars, unrefined.

They breed their filth,
The same old trash.
We’re their batch,
And madness’ lash.

Always ready to obey,
To **** the soul inside,
And moan again the same old way,
In lies they proudly hide.

Don’t sing, just whine —
That’s the ****’s desire.
Their screams divine
Are just death’s choir.

Their lies will **** —
Wars and junk combined.
Nations shrill —
They get what they’re assigned,

If these vermin
All silently endure.
Their great success
Is poison pure.

Like food, they say:
“Eat up, shut your trap!”
Years will pass away —
And death will snap.

We’re building camps
With marching steps aligned,
Under Darkness’ reign,
Our souls confined.

But Judgment Day
Draws near for **** and slaves.
They’ll die who pray
And lick their graves,

Who trust, who lie,
Who bow and crawl,
Who are the fools
In stinking holes and all.

Out from those holes —
The court severe will call.
The executioners —
To Hell, the new pitfall.

Here Hell’s a joke —
Just infernal chains,
Ruled by the snake —
Mind’s fatal stains.

Only those will save
Who sold no honor cheap —
In work and fight,
Destroying pests that creep.



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



Wake Up — Don’t Sing Your Fool’s Song

Wake up, don’t croon —
They robbed you blind,
****’s been running the tune,
Lies they sell, unkind.

They spit their filth,
Just nasty breed.
We’re their garbage,
Madness’ seed.

Ready to obey —
Soul killers in line,
Whining fools who play
The same **** whine.

Don’t sing, just ***** —
That’s the ****’s desire.
Their howl’s a switch
To torture’s fire.

Their lies will **** —
Trash and wars combined.
Nations ****-****,
Fools get what they’re signed.

If vermin like these
You silently abide,
Congrats, you’ve seized
The plague’s high tide.

Like food they say:
“Shut up, just eat!”
Years tick away —
Death’s knocking, sweet.

We build camps now,
Marching in line,
Under darkness’ scowl,
Souls confined.

But Judgment’s near —
For slime and crooks.
They’ll burn, it’s clear,
Licking tyrants’ boots.

Who lie and bow,
***** for their gain,
Who dumbly kowtow
In their filthy stain.

Out from the pits —
The court will tear.
Executioners —
Hell’s new lair.

Here hell’s a joke —
Infernal chains,
Ruled by the snake,
Brains’ fatal stains.

Only those saved
Who kept their pride,
In fight and toil,
Cast filth aside.



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



Wake the Hell Up — Quit Your Stupid Song

Wake the hell up — stop your whining,
They robbed your ***, and keep on lying.
**** above you, dirt below,
They spew their filth — the endless show.

They’re nothing but a sewer’s spawn,
A madman’s cult that drags us on.
We’re just the dirt beneath their boots,
Feeding their rage, their twisted roots.

Always ready to obey,
**** the spirit, rot away.
Whining fools, a constant moan —
Suckers hooked on pain alone.

Don’t sing, you pathetic crybaby —
That’s the vermin’s sick decree.
Their lies like knives, their screams a noose,
Your damnation, their excuse.

Their ******* kills — wars and trash,
Nations crawling in the ash.
If you let these ******* win,
You’re dirt beneath their filthy skin.

Like chow to beasts — just eat and shut,
Ignore the fire, embrace the rut.
Years will pass — the noose will snap,
Your sorry neck beneath their trap.

We’re building camps in plain daylight,
Marching dumb under their blight.
Slaves to darkness, soul’s demise,
Doomed to watch the world’s demise.

But soon the hammer’s gonna fall,
On vermin crawling, slime and all.
They’ll burn the lickspittles down,
The **** who bow, the broken clown.

Who lie, who kneel, who sell their souls,
Who rot in their filthy holes.
Out from their pits — a brutal purge,
Executioners will face the scourge.

Hell here’s a joke — infernal crap,
Ruled by snakes with venom’s snap.
Brains fried, minds crushed, no hope inside,
Only those with honor ride.

The rest are filth, the ****, the slaves,
Doomed to drown in their own graves.
But those who fight, who stand, who dare,
Will cast these monsters into air.



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



Wake the **** Up — Shut Your ******* Mouth

Wake the **** up — stop your dumb-*** song,
They robbed you blind — you played along.
**** on top, lying snakes below,
They crap on you — and still you bow.

Filth-ridden *******, spawn of hell,
Dragging us down with their sick spell.
We’re cannon fodder, slave meat on trays,
Feeding their madness, rotting days.

Always ready to **** your soul,
Crush your spirit, swallow whole.
Whining cowards, crying fools —
Hooked on chains, dumb-*** tools.

Don’t sing, ***** — just whine and beg,
That’s the anthem of the legless leg.
Their lies slice deep, their screams choke tight,
You’re condemned to rot in their endless night.

******* kills — war’s filthy feast,
Nations crawling, humanity ceased.
If you let those monsters win the game,
You deserve every ounce of shame.

Eat your crap, shut your mouth tight,
Ignore the screams — embrace the night.
Years will burn, the noose will snap,
You’ll choke on your own coward’s trap.

Building camps — right under your nose,
Marching dumb through their deadly shows.
Slaves to darkness, mind erased,
A future lost, a world disgraced.

But soon the reckoning’s coming fast,
The vermin’s time will breathe its last.
They’ll burn the lickspittles alive,
The snake-tongued ******* who connive.

Those who bow, who lie, who crawl,
Rot in their stinking, filthy hole.
Out from the pits — a ruthless purge,
Executioners face the scourge.

Hell here’s a joke — a sick, fake show,
Ruled by snakes that poison blow.
Brains fried, minds smashed to dust,
Only fighters rise from the rust.

The rest are trash, ****, and slaves,
Doomed to drown in their shallow graves.
But warriors standing, hearts on fire,
Will burn this filth — raise hell higher.



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



Wake the **** Up — Shut the **** Up

Wake the **** up — quit your **** whining,
They robbed your guts while you’re reclining.
****-rats on top, liars all around,
******* on you while you kiss the ground.

Fascist filth, shitspawn elite,
Dragging us deep beneath their feet.
We’re cannon fodder, dogshit cheap,
Feeding their rage, buried deep.

Ready to **** your soul outright,
Crush your spark, ***** your light.
Crybabies bawling, dumb-*** slaves,
Chained to lies, dug their graves.

Don’t you sing — *****, just whimper,
That’s the song of the weak and limper.
Their lies cut like a butcher’s knife,
Welcome to Hell — this ******-up life.

******* breeds war — a ***** feast,
Nations crawl, their greatness ceased.
If you let these vermin reign,
You’re **** yourself — you own the pain.

Eat your ****, shut your hole tight,
Swallow the lies, embrace the night.
Years will burn, your rope will snap,
You’ll choke in your coward’s trap.

Camps rising right beneath your nose,
March like sheep to your own doze.
Slaves to darkness, minds erased,
Your future dead, your world disgraced.

But Judgment’s coming — fast and cold,
Vermin’s fate soon will unfold.
They’ll torch the lickspittles, rat-faced clowns,
The ***-kissers who wear the crowns.

Those who bow, who lie, who crawl,
Rot in filth, condemned to fall.
Out from the pits — a ruthless purge,
Executioners feel the surge.

Hell here’s a joke — a staged disgrace,
Ruled by snakes that spit in your face.
Brains fried, minds smashed to dust,
Only fighters rise from rust.

Trash and slaves — all doomed to die,
Drowning deep in their own lie.
But warriors burning, hearts ablaze,
Will raze this hell, end this craze.



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



Wake the **** Up — Shut the **** Up

Wake the **** up — stop your pitiful *******,
They’re robbing your soul while you’re drooling and twitching.
Scumbags on thrones, liars with venomous grins,
They ***** your life raw — you lick their sins.

Fascist shitspawn, vermin’s elite,
Dragging the world to its ******* defeat.
We’re cannon fodder, their human trash,
Fed to the grinder, ground to ash.

Soul killers, spirit murderers,
Crushing all hope, feeding disorders.
Crybaby slaves, whimpering fools,
Chained and brainwashed — puppets, tools.

Don’t sing your lies, whine like a *****,
That’s the anthem of cowards, a pathetic glitch.
Their venomous words slice sharper than knives,
Welcome to Hell — your cursed lives.

******* spawns war, a feast of the ******,
Nations enslaved by a psychotic hand.
Let these vermin reign, and you’re one of the breed,
A cesspool of filth, a festering seed.

Eat ****, shut the **** up, swallow the lies,
Drown in the darkness, starve your own cries.
Years will burn down your fragile facade,
Choke on your cowardice, ****-made god.

Camps rise like monuments to despair,
Marching blindfolded, choking on air.
Slaves to darkness, erased from the light,
Your future’s a corpse, buried tonight.

But Judgment’s coming, cold as a blade,
Vermin’s screams, their last masquerade.
They’ll burn the ***-kissers, lickspittles, drones,
The sycophants hiding behind brittle bones.

Those who bow, who lie, who crawl,
Rot in filth — awaiting their fall.
Out from the pits, the purge will ignite,
Executioners rise in fury and spite.

This hell is a joke, a staged nightmare,
Ruled by the ******* who don’t even care.
Brains fried, souls crushed in dust,
Only the strong rise, forged in disgust.

Trash and slaves — doomed and decayed,
Drowning in lies that they blindly obeyed.
But warriors with fire, hearts pure and loud,
Will raze this hellscape, shatter the shroud.

Wake the **** up — no more delay,
Burn the *******, torch the decay.
Rip off your chains, break the mold,
This is the reckoning — ruthless and cold.

No mercy given, no forgiveness earned,
Hell’s gates will open — their fate is burned.
Rise from the ashes, spit in their face,
Destroy the poison, reclaim your place.

— The End —