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Lucy Tonic Nov 2012
I am money changing hands-
Insignificant and ubiquitous
Imbibed as oxygen
Spit out like old chewing gum
I am the tree that never grows leaves-
Alone but surrounded
Decrepit states of being
Amid tiny sparks of youth
I am a child’s heart-
Intelligent and delicate
Fathoming the depths
Of the outside world
I am detached-
Bought and sold
Young and old
A victim of doublethink
False prophets, you dig our graves with sinister divinations,
Bestow unrepentant indignation, and neglect to hide your shallowness.
Cast condescending shadows from high upon your sanctimonious mount, but
We wear our pride; our faith and love, our shrouds, and we will not be buried in the night.
Oh, I say woe unto them that call evil good and substitute darkness for light.
Oh, weary we may be, but forsaken we are not. Tread lightly when with lust and greed you choose to cast your lots.
Written for First Baptist Church of Worcester Poetry Fest Challenge 1: Acrostic – FBCWOO.
Bob B Aug 2018
THEY will have the final word.
Believe what the PARTY says is true.
Even Facecrime gives you away,
For BIG BROTHER is watching you.

Honesty? Bah, such nonsense!
Loyalty is what must sell.
State-spread rumors incite the mob
In your bleak, dystopian hell.

Reject evidence of eyes and ears.
That's what THEY say. Watch how hate
Turns the unquestioning supporter
Against the enemies of the state.

The Goodthinkful, unaware
How language affects their thoughts and behavior,
Show how ignorance is strength
And lavish praise upon their savior.

Manipulating public opinion,
THEY know well-spread lies will last,
For that's how THEY'LL control the future,
And that's how THEY control the past.

Doublethink is what THEY call it:
The clever art of reality control.
Ignorance is strength, THEY tell you.
Controlled insanity is THEIR goal.

The more powerful THEY become,
The less THEY prove to be your friend.
It's NOT about what's good for the people.
Power is NOT a means but an end.

War is declared on language and memory.
Inconvenient facts are rejected.
Science is reviled, and THEY
Discredit people once respected.

Doublespeak narrows the range of thought.
By caving in you might survive.
Two and two make four, but sometimes
THEY'LL say that two and two make five.

Opinions are not tolerated.
Protective stupidity: that's THEIR plan.
You think THEY can't control your thoughts,
But, oh, THEY can. THEY really can.

Do you look at your screen, or does
Your screen look at you? Or Both?
Do you know how much THEY know
Or if THEY know you've kept your oath?

Who's the next to be vaporized?
Who's the next to become an unperson?
As long as THEY control your "thinking,"
Everything can only worsen.

If only to awaken from the nightmare
Where truth becomes a likelihood
And we retain humanity!
Wouldn't that be "doubleplusgood"?

-by Bob B (8-30-18)
John H Maloney May 2013
But then again, it's hard to tell.
It might, but maybe not. Oh well.
I think it could be ... tough to say.
Just too many shades of gray
and far too much uncertainty
in any possibility
that I just don't know what to do.
I think I'll have to think it through.
Karl Oct 2014
I wanted a metamorphosis
To accumulate until my meager brightness
Became supergiant

I wanted to burn brightest and biggest
Subduing galaxies with my gravity

I wanted reflections of my light
To echo through the void

I wanted to grow in blindness
Of my monstrosity until
After millions of years
I could collapse
Into the blackness of singularity
That I might wait patiently for the day
I would be scattered throughout eternity
In a moment of unfathomable
Destruction
Aeolis Est Mar 2013
we repeat the past
a false future forged anew
1984
Adele Nov 2017
I can hear them. There is not one, but might be hundreds of them lurking behind these rickety wood walls.

He is watching. The party has always been watching. I can control my thoughts. Cogito ergo sum. This is my world, no one can touch me. These are my thoughts, my heart beats for what is good for me. My hands scrawling, my brain is just scribbling.

Yet, I’ve known from the start that I am a dead man.

I didn’t commit adultery, I followed them. I am alive, I can feel my heart racing. My blood all over my body... reminds me why I’m here. To survive and live, yet I am still a dead man.

I am no mute, but I can’t speak. While writing this I can picture my hands and feet with shackles, wounds of torture. I’ve been always a dead man.

The prole doesn’t know. They need to know. They should stop listening or watching the telescreen. They should strive to dig the Oldspeak.

Oh, right. Who dares to doublethink against a totalitarian regime anyway?

The guns are always on their hands. The war is always going. It’s always here. The past... is always here. We don’t see it, but it’s here! There’s nowhere to run or hide, the world tried.

I will be the next unperson, vaporising in the history of Oceania. They won’t remember. They’ll try not to remember. We are a nobody. Winston was right. I can feel the boot stamping on my face. This is the future.

My voice... is a thought crime, will never be accepted in this society.

I am a dead man.

I am ready... the Thought Police has been always watching me. The INGSOC. Big Brother. I will never love him!

But I am ready to be trap in the place where there is no darkness. I am ready... for the Ministry of Love.

I won’t ever, ever love Big Brother!

I do not care, for I am already a dead man!
GLOSSARY OF TERMS

• Big Brother- the face of the Party, the leader behind the great power. The best part is that we never come to confirm his actual existence. He might not even be real. Maybe the Party just hired an intimidating-looking male model to make those posters. The face of the Party, Big Brother acts as reassurance and a trustworthy entity for many (his name is warm and fuzzywarm and fuzzy and easy to embrace). Yet, he is also your biggest enemy and threat – if you are one of the criminals (he is watching your every move).

• Cogito ergo sum- Renee Descartes, the famous philosopher, used that to prove his own existence. It literally means, "I think; therefore, I am." He claimed that his ability to form thoughts made him a real, living, human being.


• Doublethink- the acceptance of two contradictory ideas or beliefs at the same time.

• INGSOC- "Ingsoc" means "English Socialism." The "Ing-" is based on the pronunciation of "English" and "-soc" on "socialism."


• Oceania - The super state in which protagonist Winston Smith dwells. It is believed to be composed of the Americas, the British Isles (called "Airstrip One" in the novel), Iceland, Australia, New Zealand, Polynesia, and Southern Africa below the River Congo.

• Ministry of Love- The Ministry of Love (or Miniluv in Newspeak) serves as Oceania's interior ministry. It enforces loyalty to Big Brother through fear, buttressed through a massive apparatus of security and repression, as well as systematic brainwashing


• Oldspeak- normal English usage as opposed to technical or propagandist language


• Prole- a shortening of the word proletarian, a term for the working class.

• Telescreen- a wall-mounted electronic device that doubles as a television and a surveillance camera. Used by the Thought Police to monitor the citizens.


• Thoughtcrime- even more serious offense than committing an actual crime: It's the act of thinking about committing a crime. You have thoughts that conflict with the Party line, like thinking "Big Brother is ungood.”

• Thought Police- a group of people with totalitarian views on a given subject, who constantly monitor others for any deviation from prescribed thinking

• Unperson- someone who has been vaporized. Vaporization is when a person is secretly murdered and erased from society, the present, the universe, and existence. Such a person would be taken out of books, photographs, and articles so that no trace of them is found in the present anywhere – no record of them would be found.


• Winston Smith- a fictional character and the protagonist of George Orwell's 1949 novel Nineteen Eighty-Four.

-INSPIRED BY GEORGE ORWELL’s 1984-

(a life-changing recommended read)
Andre Baez Feb 2014
Today I woke up and saw blood run down my nose,
The wetness shocked me like water from a hose,
As I searched myself I came across many lines,
Far more than a person my age should have designed,
Upon my canvas also lies a bit of weight,
Not enough for muscles just enough to be in shape,
My entire body is covered in a throw of fur,
Mentally I could never give into shaving, it's absurd,
Why should I change the Lords work?
My moms work, my pops work, it's what I'm worth,
Physically, I'm far from a perfect being,
But, who can seriously claim to be perfect, see
A crease from furrowed brows and tough thoughts,
Is what's needed for many to eventually get across,
The bridge that holds our destiny,
If we're true to ourselves then soon we'll see,
That each one of us is one of the worlds instruments,
A tool to be used in whatever way to represent,
The total collectiveness of our spirit,
The human spirit and the lives that go near it,
Social justifications for monstrous actions,
Aren't enough to give any sense of satisfaction,
The mind is only of a single individual,
As such the thoughts of others and their ridicule,
Is not enough to influence a movement or a truth,
An idea can spread contagions to the youth,
Through them and so on the ways get passed on,
Thrown out are false ideas and politicians who were lax on,
The middle and under man and their predicaments,
**** their lack of care, we are Gods fingerprints,
For whom the bells toll, hands fly up and grab,
Our faces by the cheeks and together we will laugh,
Because a world of unity comes after the stage fright,
Look at the anonymous who fight each day and each night,
The wordless texts written on marketing magazines,
The muted audio coming from blanketed screens,
A voiceless march on solders of love,
A war on peace will flare out in blood,
The thin red line that traces arches outside of my nose,
It works it's way left then right, to and fro,
A painting on the working canvas of my soul,
Colors swirling and mixing just outside the window,
Lies potential waiting to be tapped,
Along with my own, it's the wane to be attacked,
Through ambivalent works we are attached,
Malevolent words are weakness in the face of intelligence, wrath.

Wrath is the enemy of the dreams we have earned,
The dreams that have been worked for, burned for and yearned for,
Oh Lord, the chore is hard to absorb,
Which is why more is to be given,
For more are willing, to lend themselves to the cause of children,
And old men and women, trapped in prisons and similar buildings, Westboro baptist churches and terrorist organizations,
Government agents, with Wes Craven woven situations,
A nightmare is on Elm street, and your street and my street,
Even if you don't see it, you can hear it,
The gunshots may not ring off near your house,
But the ambulance goes past your house to the ER in clouds,
And out of your mouth comes "I hope they're fine, wow."
But in truth it's a passing moment in your own life, wow.

Just like that, it's the fragility of things,
A bird of Hermes eating it's own wings,
Reality based upon countless simplicities,
Recipes are made from human soliloquies,
Stories passed down ****** and through ink,
Written tales of woe and tales of victory,
Strategies to make the mind seek peace,
In mournful situations where bodies reek,
Media slavery and private prison sceneries,
Are overbearing distortions of American Dreams,
Big Brother is only a few decades from being,
Oceania, Eurasia, and Eastasian countries,
Are already practicing a form of doublethink,
Freedom of thought is the freedom of newspeak,
Guy Fawkes, wake up kids, nothing is as it seems,
The revolution is now and forever recurring.
will Jun 2019
Everyone has something
that makes them doublethink
when they're standing
at the railroad crossing
Inspired by the song "Dear" by Cavetown.
Andrew Rueter Jun 2020
The pathetic get pedantic
with thoughts mostly planted
the world they misunderstand it
yet there’s still discourse demanded
so they take terminology and brand it
as whatever they need to stand fit
and begin digging us into the **** ditch
of their messy rhetorical **** sandwich.

They use the term doublethink
as a subtle wink
to how they’re dumb and stink
on a drug that sinks.

They use echo chamber
to dismiss with anger
the opinions of strangers
for perceived danger.

Anything they don’t like is virtue signaling
it’s my Aunt Gertrude’s symphony
to construe simply
the spider’s spindling.

They call others thought police
while they have a lot to preach
because they want a monopoly
over what the public got to see.

They use the term hivemind
to deny why
the other side cries
saying they want a prize
for parroting the right thing
they avoid the scorpion’s sting
by diminishing and destructing
the other’s mind as nothing.

All of these terms have their place
yet we use them to race
to arguments lacking grace
putting palm to face
to bomb the brakes
of the train that takes
us to a lane of fake
******* banter waste.
F White Jan 2015
Prince of Shapes-
oh you hurtful
mystery,
living an illusion

flipped me around til my feet
were pointing up

closed off in doublethink how
on earth did I ever fall so...
Copyright fhw, 2015
Malia Apr 4
nothing but a scrap
of paper from a make-up catalog
saying,
“Real Flawless™”

but here i am,
unable to stop
thinking
about what it markets to me
what it asks of me
what it stipulates to be
true.

“Real Flawless”

modern day doublethink:
“my body is mine but
Yours
to look at and
Yours
to judge and so i shape it
to the eye that is
Yours—
i am proud though i make myself
small”

“Real Flawless”

mandatory affirmations, prayers more like,
repeat repeat repeat
how much i love myself even
as i consume comparisons
and then calculate the calories.

“Real Flawless”

the only reason
beauty is pain is
because it tears
us in two.
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
I Can Write But I Can’t Speak

I can write but I can’t speak.
It’s as if God says,
“You have a message.  Write the words.
I’ll give written words a glaze,
But eloquence that can be heard’s
Off limits, for I slow you down
For honesty, integrity:
To **** the vanity you’ve sown.
I’ll make you stumble, clumsy, dumb,
Slow-thinking, witless,
Sounding somewhat girlish.
I’ve obscured your verbal self
So that you can’t impress.
I keep you in the house
So you must guess
What is and what is not success.

Left there to stammer,
Lose my language;
Syntax, grammar
In a sandwich
Of aphasic doublethink,
The phrases weak,
Technique oblique,
My karma manifestly leaking,
Left to do my dharmic seeking,
(Swim or sink)
Through scribbled, scratched and silent ink.

I Can Write But I Can’t Speak 2.11.2003
The quest for self's dharma as been solved.
Makenzie Marie Feb 2019
When you whisper to me
The word “forever,”
My heart melts
And still races, somehow—
Doublethink.
And I agree,
Forever sounds perfect to me.
VanillinVillain Dec 2020
A wall of doublethink
denies my hands,
wrapped and bound
by wordy chains
I bend to their demands.
Look; the questions on my knuckles,
phrases down my fingers.
These second-thoughts like shining buckles,
locked tight; words left to linger.
In haunted glass I watch your decent,
unable to reach out;
wishing words could extricate,
but gagged am I by cruel doubt.
Kimberly Eyers Feb 2017
We all do it.
Videos.
Either it's massive *** organs and bad acting
to hilarious music.
Or it's baby armadillos being tickled.

For me today, it was the glossy pages
Of National Geographic
depicting beautiful, fragile ocean life.
Everything was as it should be in the tiny reserves.

Or was it? Doublethink asked.
Were there really no plastic bags floating by?

The miracle of life
Is so addictive.
But the synthetic version,
In two dimensions on your screen
Or the shiny pages of my magazine

Is no replacement
For the intimacy, reality, or
beauty
that overcomes
without filters.
CautiousRain Nov 2021
Every time I push people away,
I wait for the door to rat-a-tat-tat
and revolve back into my face;
I had never considered how often I steal opportunities away from myself by running.

I run until I collapse,
and I've stolen compassion, and understanding with every half-sprint I take away from everyone that has ever cared for me,
because what do you do when they genuinely love you?

I don't know why it is so hard to believe that they could love me,
or that I am not wasting their time by asking for help,
but I know that I live in this doublethink,
where I both love myself, but no one else could possibly love me too.

Haven't you seen me like this before?
I'm on the brink of understanding
I have a difficult time loving myself in actions, just in theories in my head.
This is why I run like this,
and by constantly shielding myself from perceived danger,
I am actually blocking potential kindness too.

If I shut off the danger and the kindness, what will I have left for myself? Nothing.
I can't keep doing this,
I am going to have to let them in.
Running away and getting nothing for it- time for self-reflection
Bob B Feb 2019
He rode into town like a wannabe--
The town we'll simply call D.C.--
And sat back with his feet upon the desk.
He brought his team--a ruthless bunch,
Most of whom are out to lunch
And operate in a manner quite grotesque.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

It didn't take long for him
To know he had to sink or swim
And this guy was determined not to sink.
Confuse and befuddle, he said,
And that's how he would get ahead:
By practicing the art of doublethink.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

Undo progress done before,
Defy the critics keeping score,
And do not worry if you sound uncouth.
Such was the man's M.O.
To win he knew he must let go
Of any close connection with the truth.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

Trusting not his experts here,
He let Putin have his ear,
And yet his fans never seemed to mind.
He could do no wrong, they felt.
Such is how the cards were dealt.
And how they hate it when their man's maligned!

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

He can lie, cheat, and steal,
Come on strong and cop a feel,
And some say even get away with killing.
And yet his fans will all bow down
And do obeisance to their clown,
Which others find incredibly blood chilling.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

-by Bob B (2-26-19)
Dire straits necessitated
yours truly to bethink
outside the box (literally outdoors
of squarish structured nested dwelling),
where blinding albedo effect
forced me to blink,
additionally also ruffled tail feathers

of this sole surviving male bobolink
(North American songbird,
Dolichonyx oryzivorus)
pushing survival species
to extinction brink,
thus series of unfortunate events
woke resident chewink
(North American bird,

Pipilo erythrophthalmus
also called: towhee
or ground-robin),
tweeted from within
his cozy armoire *****
polar vortex froze habitat,
whereby arctic wind found
brushy areas to clink

unwittingly brambles ferocious
waving circular rotation
wrought minuscule countersink
eh, no bigger than a cufflink
his ornate bejeweled complex edifice
compliments of sizable income
allowed, enabled, and provided
opportunity in tandem

with significant other
to create acronym named ****
(dual income without kid)
acquiring handsome combined income
rendering and selling stylized goldfinch
also known as distelfink
common motif in
hex signs and fraktur,

which interpretive native folk art
eye state meaningless
without rhyme nor reason,
superfluous gibberish by George,
and/or...well... courtesy
following more purposeless gobbledygook
defying poetaster to incorporate doublethink
intelligently nsync with downlink

playfully, jauntily, and deliberately
creating confounding badinage eyewink
at thee, no doubt many
an anonymous innocent
reader calling me ratfink
under their breath or more
colorful brutal appellation
inducing cheeks of unknown followers
turning fifty plus shades of firepink

moost definitely concurring gink
perfectly apropos description
concluded individually versus
collectively, quickly, and
unanimously i.e. (think) groupthink
I approve this entire message, which
most likely tinders pet peeve,
concluding GoDaddy liberally did hoodwink.
Yenson Feb 2023
From the covens of whitening shame
in shame upon shame upon shame
contemptible mired in contempt upon contempt
upon contempt

hiding in broad red sunset of blood red infamy
they huddle in red puddles to muddle in unison
these infernal leagues in fevered infamy
see them in profanity
in tattered minds and doublethink
they titter and witter in gormless chatter
and how they cry and decry

and in whimpering roars they bend to stand
snorting and snarling they tremble and shake to twist
prancing in baleful hackneyed discontents
incumbent in the ambiguities of green-eyed visionaries
gnawing hungrily at the banquets of inefficacy by inadequacies
ravaged by inherent bloodlust the vile nihilists
in shameless nakedness walks in crippled strides

cowards cowed only can only see threats
envy's palaces are hatred intimidation and destruction
a striking Noire in sight to be struck in strikes and strife
its carte blanche privilege
its the privilege of renaissance knuckle-draggers
its peasants' privilege to make the sublime into the ridiculous

Hail Caesar The Supremacist
The Tribune holds the best and fittest moors are put in the Arena
And fed to the Three Lions
In unison we stand
Rome dost spake in Plato's Athenians democracy
It is a privilege



https://www.tiktok.com/@kingchlsy/video/7188572829397290282?isfromwebapp=1&senderdevice=pc&webid=7201066011432748550
Apparently and unbeknown to me, its quite alright to steal from your neighbour if you're working class and from a majority racial class.  And if one dares protest one would find out what esprit de corps means in working class parlance, Its all about privileges, 'know wot I mean, matey' nudge, nudge, wink, wink!!.
The City

Corruption took a different shape —
It oozed like concrete mortar,
And hardened into glass and stone —
Behold: the city’s order.

This city’s built to see you dead —
Its core is rot and poison.
The herds obey with empty heads,
No minds, no will, no voices.

True thought and boldness? Only there —
In films of bleak seduction.
Cash rules, and all the rest’s hot air,
So dreams meet swift destruction.

If you refuse to serve and sell
Your mind to filthy swine —
If lies and praise of filth repel —
You won’t survive its line.



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



City of ****

The city's built on lies and rot —
Obey, betray — or you are not.



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



Stimulating Salivation of the ****** Population

Salivation’s rising —
That’s the daily goal:
Teach the herd to swallow
Garbage by the bowl.

Fresh new slop is flooding —
Open wide, you freak!
You deserve this mudslide
If you call it chic,

If you take the ninth wave
Of lies as holy bread,
Lick this fascist butchery,
Praise what keeps you fed.

Genocide and dinner —
All in one, you see.
Welcome to rock bottom:
Idiot as decree.

That’s the proud conclusion.
Now the **** holds sway.
God has left this planet —
Filth runs it today.



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



Rodents and Chips

Chip and Dell are rushing in —
Time to drill into your head.
Neural ports are now the skin,
Weak and useless if not fed.

Lie to mice without delay,
No unplugging, no reprieve —
**** straight into their brain, and pray,
As Hell prepares to take its leave.



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



The Reality of Fascist Regimes

The Regime’s reality?
Insanity on blast.
They rule through pure brutality —
The country breaks so fast.

Each crisis is designed in full,
Pre-scripted, well-prepared,
By traitors in their cushy roles —
Vice-chairs and creeps who dared

To push the genocide ahead,
Unleashing planned collapse,
While people chew the verbal ****
These scumbags feed en masse.

That **** replaces fridges now —
No food, just slogans stink.
The herd’s too dumb to wonder how
They’re tricked with doublethink.

A fascist rule, through and through,
Yet branded "kind" and "just".
One slick-tongued snake steps out of view —
Another comes. Disgust.



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



Demons from the Brainwash Box

Hysterical demons scream from the screen —
Don't watch too long… then switch it back on.
They’re real-life crazies — no in-between —
Yet hold the keys to every *****.

The idiots' gaze is blurred and blind —
The hosts, the critics — full-on insane.
But when lies pour in and you're dulled in mind,
It all seems normal. Rot eats the brain.

The crazies and viewers — no dissonance here,
The editor’s loony, the tone’s psychotic.
Fear and falsehoods, shrill and sincere —
The whole **** thing’s demonic, neurotic.

The madness now hits such a pitch,
You can feed them any rot — they’ll swallow.
You can't cure the herd, they're too far gone —
Nine-tenths already in the hollow.

This isn’t a “society” — it’s rot. It’s a ward.
A global asylum, well underway.
If you’re smart — you're a threat. If you're dumb — adored:
A slave-link in chains, to obey and obey.



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



Clouds of Lies

A f*ck-ton of *******,
A thick, sickening cloud
Of total deceit —
Goebbels would be proud.
Now it’s worse than ever,
Lies like poisoned steam,
Foam of mass delusion
In the builder’s scheme.

Hard to break the sealing —
You’re imprisoned tight.
**** in charge is dealing
Fascism in daylight.

Putler’s just a clone,
******’s comeback show.
Cretinism's grown —
Now it runs the flow.

Crowds have lost all reason,
Staring into screens.
Even magic genies
Can’t fix shattered beings.



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



Vegetables

They fear the veggies might rebel —
So Cipollino’s getting banned.
The creatures purge with eager hands —
Even Pinocchio won’t sell.

The age of wonder’s dead and gone —
These ******* took it all by force.
And fools now praise their foul discourse,
Call all this filth “the rising dawn.”

The "nation" worships every fraud,
Still dreams of Führers and cheap loans.
While modern Goebbels types applaud
And crush the minds, and break the bones.



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



Circles of Hell

Rock bottom’s shattered — smashed to dust.
Below it lies a deeper pit:
A brand-new Hell, where lies are just
The rules, and filth is top-grade ****.

Dante's tales have come alive —
Seventh ring… or is it eight?
We rolled into this dive and strife,
Headfirst into a twisted fate.

No mind left — just open sores.
No life — just rot and choking gas.
And what’s the end? Pure fascist ******,
A herd of sheep and brainless mass.



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



"Brave New World"

A “brave new world” of orders,
Idiocy and “care.”
Stay ready for the *******’ orders —
Become their dumb, blind square.

The fascists promise “care” —
They’ll jab their slaves with junk.
These silver-tongued despots dare
To lead the fatal funk.

Build your own world — stand alone —
Or they’ll dispose of you.
If smart and spiritual — prone
To think — you won’t break through.



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



Infernal Roundabout

Fast trains spinning ‘round and ‘round —
The CowID dance of hell.
Once healer, now you’re just a hound,
A crawling filthy shell.

You joined the **** in wicked streams,
From fake-AIDS to this game,
No glory, little pay for schemes —
The *******’s price is shame.

Your conscience crushed, long dead and gone,
You march with filth in line.
Together to the depths you’re drawn —
The devil’s dance divine.



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



In Hell

Don’t expect care from fascism’s hand,
Nor think Hell’s pain is just by chance:
It’s legacy of traitors’ brand,
A slave’s vile, rotten circumstance.

You’re born at war, no mercy shown.
The meaning in this Hell’s to fight.
Though two-thirds **** around have grown —
You stand alone — resist the blight.



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



The End is Coming

A fox-fur coat,
A palace, gold and glow —
Won’t save your skin —
The end will show.

Write your poems,
Better curse them loud —
Too many traitors —
The end’s a ******* cloud.



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



The Double ****

Putler’s double, **** and slime,
Waging wars and CowID crime.
Filthy mouthpiece, Kremlin’s tool —
Where conscience dies, they rule the fool.

In minds and souls, a frozen glaze,
The herd is easy prey to lies.
They multiply the rotten schemes —
All else ignored, no hope redeems.



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



The Sail and TNT Reserve

Strike true — that’s ironclad, they say,
But what if aim’s a crooked game?
Critical thought will light the way:
You’ll see the world’s a restless flame.

Only bursts of pure creation
Can brighten all this endless gloom.
Though breakthroughs come in rare vibration,
They’re better than the choking doom.

All lies and sludge in madness swirl —
Yet shards of truth may still be found.
Believe the Lyre’s blood-stained twirl,
Its song of pain and sacred sound.

Now’s the time for one big blast —
Blood poisoned deep, the search refined.
Trust only intuition’s mast —
The Spirit’s sail: its course aligned.



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



Death for Death

A filthy plague —
The universe’s shame —
Descended to the Earth,
And spread its deadly flame.

Centuries roll by —
Of shame and slavery’s chain.
No end yet seen
To this vile reign.

The river’s dried —
The free spirit’s gone.
The pain is deep.
Flies swarm on.

Dark clouds of terror
Hover overhead,
On soil still fresh,
Though covered in dread.

They bring from above
A ruthless death,
So close, so fierce —
Hell’s hardened breath.

But hell’s hard ground
Is just a show —
It can be wiped out,
If your hand won’t slow —

To die with it.
The shameful ages
Will sink away.
Though the path is harsh,
Follow the way:

Death for death.
Though the cost is great,
The cycle falls —
Genocide’s fate.



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



The Universal “Brother”

The great Melton, “Uncle Styopa,”
A cousin, godfather, just before,
Promoted now — the Universal Brother —
Ruling us with force and hollow lore.

Universal — yes, for countries, towns
Are just barracks, cages, nothing more.
Muzzles on cattle everywhere,
Show clearly: you’re in a fake land’s core.

A land where only total fools breathe free,
Where only fascist **** run wild.
He keeps men scared, half proud but crushed,
Before the thugs who rule the wild.

The price of “pride” is a stinking *** —
Lies for guarantees, a freedom joke.
No more absurdity — not a bullet,
Just less comfort for the bloated folk.

The world’s a herd of cattle now,
Driven meat for demons’ feast.
And only one way out remains:
Blow it up — burn down the beast.

If you’re just meat, then who gives a ****
How big the fire’s rage will be?
Better one that wipes it clean —
Erases shame, decay, debris.

No options left to take instead:
Only Fire to burn the lying world,
The spawn of Evil, idiot’s god —
Where twisted lies and madness swirl.



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



The Inevitable Death of Pinocchio

Once lived Pinocchio
In a land of fools.
The wooden puppet
Faced few cruel rules.

But his long nose
Couldn’t fit the mask.
That milk-faced kid
Got caught in the task.

Better had he caught a plague,
A heavy, nasty blight —
Lost his nose at once,
But that’s a gentler plight.

Fake doctor, cop —
Not fox or cat:
In a single moment
They’ll send him flat.

A vaccine for nothing
Will strike him down dead.
So many hidden poisons
He never once read.

In this cattle chaos,
Long noses don’t last.
You’ll die — no questions —
No foes, just fast.



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



Turn Back from the Gates!

Reason fights and struggles hard
Within the cage called “I.”
Feeding ravenous darkness —
The crow’s unyielding cry.

Still it hopes for saving grace:
A messiah to arrive.
But nothing changes by itself —
From Heaven’s gates, turn and dive!

The world convulses, foul and broke,
The enemy’s in the mind, not doors.
The end is bleak, a bitter yoke —
Degrade, dissolve, disorder roars.

Feeding like cattle to the ****,
The ravenous fiends prevail.
Humans fall for stupid lies —
Once more they fail the tale.

Though humans? No — like beasts, enslaved,
Yoked under crushing load.
And only worse will come ahead —
All dragged down into the mud.

One choice remains: burn all this mess —
Defy the weight of pain,
Forge hellish flames to cleanse the wreck —
Break free from loss and chain.

Perish with foes and shame alike,
Expose the rotten core.
The rest is yours: choose devil’s path,
Or God’s — forevermore.



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


Demons Rule the World

“We aim to be all Napoleons:
Millions of two-legged pests
Are but our single weapon.” —
Pushkin’s words attest.

Every louse learns rules of this cruel game
Once it escapes decay’s embrace.
No longer dreams of astral planes,
But Saint Helena’s isolated place.

Then these rules spread wide and far
To prisoners caught in dull deceit,
A trap so stupid, it’s a cosmic farce —
Laughter echoes through the infinite.

A game where lies and savage genocide
Become the slaves’ grim daily bread,
From birth no one escapes the shame,
The chains, the rot that bind the dead.

A game whose goal is to ***** out
All God’s sparks that light the mind,
To choke off reason at its root,
So all become the cattle blind.

But only by blowing Hell apart —
Destroying masters and the slaves —
Comes the science to reclaim the heart,
And break the chains that death engraves.



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



TECH-nical Regression

Calculator,
Computer —
Era of the internet,
TV,
Mobile phones —
A Golgotha of mind’s debt.

In a world of genocide,
Progress is no friend.
Monsters need decay,
Regression to the end.

Vampires crave it,
For digital chains to bind.
That’s why it’s pushed so hard —
For filth of every kind.

What’s ready long ago
Is rushed into the fray,
To drag us all down low,
Turn bright to foul decay.

A prison for the slave
Can never be a home.
We’re doomed if we can’t save
The path where freedom’s grown.

Only communities,
United, pave the way —
Where all are one,
And that’s the truth to stay.



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



Virtuality

A paper kite flew into the land,
Scaring off the ancient old.
Then mocked and danced on shifting sand —
Birthed a freak from lies untold.

A virtual freak...

At first it seems just comfort’s face,
A stream of knowledge, fun and play.
But really it’s a prison’s case —
A digital camp, locked away.

Where all are branded slave’s disgrace,
Driven to the stalls of doom.
A fate for all, no love, no fight,
A silent death in coded tomb.

But fight remains, while fear’s undone —
**** the slave inside your mind.
No guns will save what must be won,
But communities, alive and kind.

Through living talk and common toil,
Rebirth will rise, the beast destroyed.
The octopus of neo-fascist spoil,
Genocide’s base, the demon’s void.



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



The Toilet

“Freedom of speech” steps in —
Choking tight your throat.
Filth rules with wild lies,
With promises of hope.

The people blindly trust
The promises of dogs —
Politicians who reap their rent,
Polluting minds with fog.

They **** and **** — these beasts,
The world’s a toilet bowl.
To seek truth in this shitpile —
****’s just ****, the same old role.



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



The Beauty of the Latrine

“Beauty will save the world,”
They say, while dressing lies.
Now this latrine’s a shooting range —
A pitiful disguise.

This little world’s a sewer pit,
Where people mean no more.
Ruled by **** who don’t exist —
No minds, just hollow core.



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



The Backup Dance

To “dance backup”… to be reshaped,
Is very easy, as you see:
Just serve the evil, praise the fake,
And trust the lies and lunacy.

So many lies, so vile the game —
Yet the foul slave still dances on,
Weak-minded, meek, with broken flame —
The slave’s own mind is nearly gone.

Just simple moves, just fluff and trash,
This is decay in petty souls.
This forging breaks the spirit’s flash —
A swarm of dung-born stupid trolls.



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



Sunday Joke

Sunday comes,
To the pub I stray,
****** on the fence —
Jealousy’s play.

Wife again,
Kids I blame.
On TV’s screen —
Chaos and shame.

Mad world spins —
No beer’s enough!
Fence turned toilet —
That’s the stuff.



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




Kind of "New Year's"

The year’s gone down the drain —
A dead man’s cure in vain.
A world in slow decay,
Where honor’s thrown away.

Where Conscience penned and trapped,
Mind and Spirit snapped.
Misery marches wide,
Killing reason’s pride.



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



Weeds and Wild Grass

The whole expanse is overgrown
With weeds and wild grass far and wide.
The “hares” just “mow” — this madhouse throne,
Where madness rules, no place to hide.

Only death will set them free —
Release them from their fear and lies.
Forget the pain and misery —
Their moaning silenced in the skies.



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



The Sheepish Eugenics of Human Nature

In memory of Velimir Khlebnikov

All hail the freedoms of the horse,
And equal rights for lowly cows.

For years the breeding runs its course —
Fascists reap their ****** vows.
From sheepish eugenics’ cursed hand,
Human heads grow fewer still.

A muzzle made for soulless bands,
To mark the devils at the feast,
Dumb slaves, the herd with empty hands —
And lies are weapons for the beast.

A fake virus splits the grain,
From chaff of mindless, soulless drones.
Then comes the order: “No masks — ****!
Drag to wards, and vaccinate the bones.”

What’s left for man — though torn apart,
Tired but fighting to the last?
To gather strength, to stand, to start
A final fight before the past.

Before death comes, unite as one,
Draw fire down upon your soul.
The Earth will rise when battle’s done,
And honor pay the priceless toll.




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




Profanation

Dot, dot, comma —
A dull face drawn.
Stick, stick, cucumber-shaped line —
A Euclid man is born.

Parallel lines
Never cross in here,
So all are dull,
And filled with sneer.

Not flexible minds,
But rigid rule,
They stand in line —
An “arithmetic” school.

This tidy row
Sweeps all away,
Crushes those
Who won’t obey.

Drives them into pens,
Then off to slaughter,
They follow laws
That serve their order.

Dull and fearful,
They’ll jab a sickly sting,
Believing lies
Like it’s some joke thing.

— The End —