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Christian C Dec 2020
The boy who clicks off the light, reads on the couch, to let sleep consume me-- or who reads beside me, metal-frames dipping low
while his eyes pour over the page.

The boy who tucks me in, acquiescing the blanket softer than peach fuzz-- like the ambrosial peaches his grandmother gifted him in the winter and he shared sweet.

The boy who always makes sure to kiss me good-bye
and fills the room with jazzy notes-- because they represent me,
though he never liked jazz much at all before.

The boy who asked me to wake him if I go somewhere because he'd prefer me to remain beside him, but he understands I have things I need to do, so he cannot always wake beside me,
a weight he can handle.

It does not match the boy who told me he does not love me,
though he likes me, and I am haunted by hollow translations
that force me to delicately dance around a swear word in the
English language like "love".

It does not match the boy who said we wouldn't have much of a relationship without ***, and I am haunted by uncertainties of my convenience that force me to stumble with the hope that our
past does not define our present.

How I feel about you, through my actions, through my words, are truer than any logic, but that might not matter
because the boy does not want to hear words that have
a weight greater than he can handle.
Aaron Mullin Nov 2014
Standing on the intersection of
a Monet, a van Gogh, and a Picasso
Nice piece of real estate!

Water lilies ~ Charrette de boeuf ~ Tete d'homme

Let's start with the lilies:
I'm impressionable and I gaze lovingly into the pool
I see my reflection slowly unfurl in the shimmer of the pink petals
As in a dream ... I float on
The watchmaker sends an instruction: rotate clockwise

Now an ox cart:
I seem to be walking in Poe's imagination
Crows flitting about as the ox champions
His burden on a drafty day
Another instruction from the watchmaker: continue clockwise

And now Tete d'homme ~ cubism:
My world deconstructs
Line by line, shapes and forms
Fracture into the subterranean unconsciousness of my mind
Leading to another instruction: close your eyes

Shift
Your
Perspective

Watchmaker says: open your eyes

Uncentre
Misalign
Unhitch

Watchmaker says: ens causa sui: 'a being that causes itself'

Now I've got Dali giving me niggling doubts about the nature of time
Sartre with a side of Darwin and I'm being and nothingness

Ground yourself Mullin!
Open your eyes ... this is reality
There's Rodin in a battle of good versus evil
Munch and no screams! This is good
Gaugin sharing his garden view
I'm in my happy place again ...

That's better
And here's Cezanne, Degas, Renoir, and Pissarro
Bringing me back into a recognizable reality
My eyes and my mind are in alignment here

But I can feel that watchmaker winding me back up
My iris constricts and my pineal widen
Third eye ain't blind

Hope someone is around to catch me

No worries, I'm sailing with Renoir and
I've found A Muse (Constantin Brancusi)

Ain't life a musing?
Spent the afternoon at the Portland Art Museum, yesterday

I saw all of this with the exception of Dali, Sartre, and Darwin while standing in one spot ... sublime :)
Styles Aug 2014
Don't let perception of the Weak-Minded kind get the best of your reality.
With editing, other people's words get twisted and misalign clarity.
Envy hardly reflects the truth- if so, it's a rarity.
Lurking under a cloud called obscurity- often they hide.
These Weak-Minded kind.
Thriving off of the pain of those they casually misguide.
Stirring up emotions then they run off to the side.
Cowards, these Weak-Minded kind.
Watching as two half-truths try to coincide.
Cut and pasted, the truth gets lost in time.
Feelings start to hurt as hateful words collide.
Repeating things never said,
But overheard more than a few times.
Angers flare,
As words fly.
Regrets of all kinds,
slip and slide,
Breaking ties,
damaging pride.
Fine on the outside,
Scared for life,
on the inside.
All because the Weak-Minded kind, rather lie.
It's people like this I despise.
Hidden behind their friendly disguise.
To afraid to show their face; but diss guys.
When you confront them; get no replies.
Just a shocked dumb look in their eyes.
These weak minded people are a waste of time.
They can't make up their mind half of the time.
So they are basically lying, all of the time.
Having a good-time, ruining your good time.
They only way to beat them; don't pay them no mind.
Best way to **** parasites, especially the Weak-Minded kind.
Jenn Nix Nov 2014
Hounds

The hounds are barking again outside my window.
they are snarling and snapping with teeth of ice
that rips my tears into a tundra of frost.

The indifferent air carries their hunger
under the unhinged door in my head;
a gale is coming, feral and wild.

I am not comfortable in my head right now;
Chain smoke to keep my hands to myself.
I wander through ash and fire: what have I done?


Planets

I am helpless against my misfiring neurons;
numbed against myself and you;
Pills streak like comets across the bed.

In the sky the stars peer in confusion,
planets misalign again, a sun implodes,
Earth groans and shifts, somewhere something dies.

Swirling galaxies light up the synapses
Serotonin battles amphetamine
Orion stalks the twins and unsheathes his sword.

Submersion*

I need some water on my feet, my head;
submerge me in the Lethe and bathe me in forgetfulness
the room grows hot and I swallow another star.

I am swathed in your concern, smothered by your regard.
I need clear air to think,
the night and the susurrus of hibiscus bathed by the moon.

Inside my room in my bed
white noise and white sheets wrap me,
bundle and bind me tighter than panic.

No, I will not go outside tonight.
The hounds are barking outside my window-
they come for me.
We are aware of the darkness that a judgmental mind could never interpret,
regrettably a sympathetic one whom may never understand,
the unfortunate occasion that you may never comprehend,
nevertheless, the inconsolable thoughts taking possession as we ill-advisedly perceive it all.

We plead with our wits next to the shadowy void to pull itself together for the considerate rope, thrown by the aiding, observant heart, whom questionably believes they may be witness to a faltering mind.
Observing the consciousness of the defeated soul that appears to be in despair without hope,
whos only aspirations seem simply to be a desire for a purpose, if not just appreciated for unobserved accomplishments,
but as the Darkness appears it’s difficult to grasp the disoriented, desolated mind that was ******, abruptly upon us.

As much as you try to alleviate the agony you attest to see, handing over your own strength you long to be received,
There is still the over-whelming pull of our defective mind,
discouraging thoughts that blind the help being offered that we push aside,
we feel the need of fight or fly, as we flee to our merciless evacuation,
It’s in that moment we freely descend,
Diving into the captivating abyss,
With the knowledge of knowing we may never ascend again.
            
You can’t hear the darkness’s dialogue, but we listen to the seductive silence as the chemicals misalign,
the reckless, misguided drop into the blinding dark hole that feels numb in awareness, but aching to touch,
the darkness can speak for as long as we reluctantly consent,
despite the fact it leaves us feeling insignificant,
we let darkness define us and at times its abundant touch is imprudently enough to keep us retreating to darkness’s lair for refuge from our detrimental behavior.

We reach, we scream, we dig our nails into the muddy wall, but the hole is too deep; the rope isn’t long.
Maybe it’s a test as you climb the roots; but the darkness is still there grabbing at your legs, whispering to you that you’re meant to be here instead.
“It’s safe here!” Darkness says.  “They can’t get you here! They may get past that concrete wall, but not in this destitute of twigs and straw, but if they do, they could get stuck, too, maybe I’ll haunt them instead of you?”
I should have known how easy it was to fall so gracelessly into a shadowy hole that I know shows when prompted by self-possessed triggers in life that you can’t help but let devour the night.
We find ourselves asking if we should even reach up.
We began to wonder if the hole was meant to collect what we feel is broken and left for dead.
Some find us weak, but they have no clue,
When we do choose to be, we fight this battle almost daily, so you can’t say what weakness is,
When you’ve never needed the strength to fight the dark to begin with.

By,
Natalie M. Lawrence
I am a advocate for mental health and try to find ways for others who don't suffer to understand what it's like while at the same time letting those who do know that they are not alone.
So in this Darkness is the fight we are up against. Always.
Max Hale Oct 2015
Creative actions are more than enough
To convince me that I am working hard
Blooming flowers prove the point
That nature has a method of showing the world
How amazing we all are.
Dedication from each of us can portray
The effort of clarification from results
Mornings of sunshine days are also great ways
To feel we are on the firmest of footings and cups
Of our enthusiasm drench us as our excitement bubbles
Flesh is weak they say but not so
Eliminate our thought process
Just leave the muscle and the bones of the plan
By any respect the job will be done
Sometimes dwelling on an evaluation is fruitless
Gain some notes in your tune
Misalign your face and just work at it.
Develop your space and live
Don't think too much
Enjoy the life with which we are blessed
Easy
tc Jan 2017
The first girl I ever apologised to
created craters in my veins and filled them with love and she didn’t even know
how beautiful she was, lying next to me face-to-face with nothing but TV reflections and an orchestra of words spoken in silence
I wanted to tell her I love her over and over again but my eyes stole any sentence I could form in my head from my mouth and did nothing but stare
They say a person’s face gets more attractive the more you look at it but I feel this is a lie; if I had only got to glance at her face for a second, she would still be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen
and we fit together like tetris blocks, building a foundation to plant the root of forever
and I want to grow beside her, watching her blossom from a caterpillar into a butterfly, from a star into the sun
and I want to be the steady trees that stand beside her, humble and proud, showing her that I meant it when I said I would never leave because I am rooted deep into our soil of forever
and I couldn’t even if I wanted to and I kept my heart chained to my ribs before I met her but she waltzed in, handed me the keys and I haven’t been the same since.
I felt her come crashing into my life like an asteroid; I am sure I was wiped out and taken to a universe where only good things happen because I can no longer see bad, only flowers where bullets should be
I can no longer only see red, but violet and magenta and mahogany too and she has opened up a world where everything does happen for a reason because it has led me to her
like a sleepwalker looking for home only to find something much better than that
like a sleepwalker waking up to find themselves immersed in golden sands and out of touch with reality but rife with the knowledge that she’s real
and her touch is there to remind me of this,
the world’s biggest mystery gracing the palm of my hand with their own fingertips, two DNA connected and the vibrations of my love for her bouncing back to whatever God introduced me to her to say thank you
and I remember the first time I held her hand. We sat in silence as I traced my fingers over hers and back again, like a visual of tentative attraction on loop.
I didn’t believe in anything until I heard my name on her lips and suddenly angels existed and
Sometimes I feel like I’m hallucinating but I don’t mind when her presence in front of me is tripled and I can see not just one of her but three and each one outstretches their hand as they morph back into one person, as if to show me that in all her various forms, I am safe
and I have never been safer
I can no longer only see red, but hues of cyan and aqua and agate blue and they merge together to form eyes I dive into searching for the very depths of her ocean and I never gasp for air
because I am safe. They merge together to form irises that look at me like I’ve never been seen before, like a rare breed of an extinct animal discovered again; irises that look at me like they could stop time with their intensity
and I want to stop time with her
I want to contort it to wrap around her and I and protect us in the promise of eternity
because the stars will set the sky on fire and everything will melt in embers and ash without her
the planets will misalign
the soil will sink the trees at their roots
and the ocean will swallow the earth it once harmonised with
and I will, simply,
cease to exist.
but I'm probably not.
anneka Sep 2014
I will cradle your memory in my hands against my heart, and the pulse of it will be warm and soft against my fragile skin. These memories are permanent now; sewn into my bones and intertwined with the very core of my soul. In your silence their voices echo; how you're only one human in this fleeting life when the universe is vast and endless with so many more to meet, but they do not know you like I do, like I did.

If I ever forget the way your hands felt in mine or the way your smile triumphed over the sun's own, I want you to know that I will return to you somehow. Even if the stars misalign and this world collapses into the crevices, even if the end is in sight and my faith trembles with exhaustion, even if the distance between us grows infinitely, forever -

It's always been you,
it will always be you.

(A.H.Z)
Krista Lynn Nov 2011
There’s something in the silence, but it’s never been quite clear

Is it comforting or deafening, or music to my ear?

I find it in the quiet, it comes from deep within

It tells me where I’m going, and shows me where I’ve been

I don’t need an ear to listen, or someone’s hand to hold

Because my thoughts are loud and clear, underlined and bold

I listen to the echoes, but I cannot hear the screams

Of all the thoughts inside, and reoccurring dreams

Like a bullet searching for it’s target, I am looking for mine

Silence brings motionless and the planets misalign

I’m looking for that defining moment, when my world stands still

I don’t want all the answers, because searching holds the thrill

I want to be like the rhythm, to my favorite song,

Meaning I am sensible, and that I belong

But aside from the song, I find great value in the silence

Because for a few moments, it ceases all the violence

I don’t mean world wars, I’m talking about battles inside

I guess I’m saying at times, I’m conflicted on this ride

Sometimes life can be raging, like a heart attack,

But in silence, I find, that all fades to black

It’s a ride I can’t get off of, and nor would I try

Because that would be like gravity, which I cannot defy

So when my thoughts are spinning, like electric ballet dancers

I turn to silence, because it holds all the hidden answers
Wanderer Oct 2014
We enclose, impose and expose ourselves
As poets we do not see in black and white
Instead we use words to paint the countless colors
In between
Our stars align
Misalign
Great works of emotion
Spilled out from sore and joyous hearts
To reach the hidden cavities of those who read them
We are the dreamers, the night time schemers
Filling up afternoons with sunshine
Midnight walks with moonlight
Hold our heart, feel the weight of the world
Hold our gaze and *see it
within twenty first century promotion
   sans scientific paradigm
dogmatically hefty, kinetically lofty,
   and poetically thoroughly, xyz beliefs misalign
wherein mechanistic Ptolemaic,

   static venerated yin yang benign
choreography describing elementary forces
   governing heavens inviting jinxed, kooky,
   loopy measures necessitating pacific rectification
   to guarantee spatial objects remain in line

which notions trotted out
   a cosmic deal with invisble ink
   omnipresent, omniscient omnipotent
   benevolent creator link
synonymously afffixed terrestrial
   firmament (planet Earth) nsync

   with bedrock of deified Gibraltor
until undisputed supposedly
   figuratively hermetically sealed
   fostered religious (church) fathers
   to do more than blink

when inquisitive minds (undaunted
   though invoked as heretical martyrs)
   blaspheming solidly entrenched
   blind faith functioning with charm
mingly quaint association with amulets, churinga,
   equisite fetishisms guiding humanity

   innumerable journeys kickstarting
   legendary modus operandi initially harm
   less lee sounding out,
   what manifested into a schismatic alarm
   regarding millennial questions
   underming liturgical moorings
   strong lance heaving arm

irrevocably toppled geocentric mindset,
   nonetheless this oblate spheroid dance
sing with the stars redoubled
   devout hangers-on fixed
   with barnacle cleaving devotion stalwart stance
Page Number Two:

populace behooved (as would be expected),
   when Douting Thomas' revolutionary screeds
   threatened (prior to unending)
   univeral schema just by chance
and despite proclamations pronounciations,
   and provocations roiling status quo
   hashtagged as evil rants

eventually zealous warfare between
   growing heliocentric individuals  
   with sacrilegiously blatantly deranged
fiendishly gnarly heathens –
   perhaps the Renaissance own Timothy Leary

the dawn of a quantifiable, explainable theory
(minus all those concentric embedded orbital paths)
   diktat preachers eventually became weary
to challenge recalcitrant (purported hell raisers)
   (****, I would have fit right in as a rebel rouser)
   whereby agents provocateurs spout vestigial claim
   to Gaea remaining front and center of galaxy
   on par clubbing with Mother Mary.
BipolarBear Nov 2024
'Perfect in countless ways' this shared thought lingers.
But they cannot create pretty, pleasant pictures.
For those 'perfect' puzzle pieces misalign - beware...
Knitting a painfully incompatible pair.
Julian Sep 2019
my love,
i had dreamt of you,
my entire life.

i wished for you
on every star,
11:11,
and dandelion puffs.

i worshipped you
in the prayers of my every poem.

i loved you
with the entirety of my existence
from the moment i found you.

i believe,
that the universe reoriented itself
to keep you at the center
and it was the first time
i had known peace
and belonging.

your departure from me,
would untether the planets
and misalign the galaxies.

your eventual absence
will catapult me
into the darkness.

i am a ghost
without a home to haunt

a heartbeat
without a chest to belong to.

i will know nothing
except for the loss of you.

i know it will consume everything
i will ever have known.

it will sound like a goodbye
and it will feel, alone.

so don't go,
don't ever go.
#n
Flourishes amidst freedom
once invisible (alice in) chains shucked
when soul no longer kept linkedin
to jane's addiction
with corporeal duty, entity, fealty...
while formerly shed body electric
gendered as former googly eyed hotmail
actually a prodigy, whose outlook
arouses suspicions regarding him
as person of pinterest living social
in a webbed, wide world of uncertainty

precariously perched atop pinnacle
pirouetting at light speed,
nevertheless defying the laws
of centrifugal and centripetal force
as spirit blithely ushers forth
along a straight line
of orthodox dogmatism, idealism
opportunism, and volunteerism
hemorrhaging, purging, and xing
staunch archconservative
punishing outdated edicts.

When after the final countdown
to the global apocalypse,
(according to Doomsday Clock
January two thousand twenty three  
ninety seconds to midnight)
one beatle browed, foo fighting nebbish
departs the land of the living
and joins rank and file
among the grateful dead,

he (more specifically
the physical and spiritual
embodiments incorporating him
will separate) at long last,
thence latter day sainted essence
can freely exit from the cares
and concerns of an uncertain tomorrow  
no longer plagued by earthly travails
particularly the necessity of money.

Within heliocentric/ Copernican theory
broached sixteenth century promotion
sans scientific paradigm
dogmatically hefty, kinetically lofty,
and poetically thoroughly,
xyz beliefs misalign
wherein mechanistic Ptolemaic,
static venerated yin yang benign
choreography describing elementary forces
governing heavens inviting jinxed, kooky,
loopy measures necessitating

normalization, pacification, rectification,
transformation, validation
to guarantee spatial objects remain in line
which notions trotted out
a cosmic deal with invisible ink
omnipresent, omniscient omnipotent
benevolent creator linkedin
synonymously affixed terrestrial
firmament (planet Earth) nsync
with bedrock as Fred Flintstone
beatified, certified, deified,

edified, fortified, glorified Gibraltar
until undisputed supposedly
figuratively hermetically sealed
fostered religious (church) fathers
to do more than blink
when inquisitive minds (undaunted
though invoked as heretical martyrs)
blaspheming solidly entrenched
blind faith no more functioning with charm
mingly quaint association
with amulets, churinga,
exquisite fetishisms guiding humanity

innumerable journeys kickstarting
legendary modus operandi initially harm
less lee sounding out,
what manifested into a schismatic alarm
regarding millennial questions
undermining liturgical moorings
strong lance heaving arm
irrevocably toppled geocentric mindset,
nonetheless this oblate spheroid dance
sing with the stars redoubled
devout hangers-on fixed

with barnacle cleaving
devotion stalwart stance
populace behooved
(as would be expected),
when Doubting Thomas'
(Paine) revolutionary screeds
threatened (prior to unending)
universal schema just by chance
and despite proclamations pronunciations,
and provocations roiling status quo
hashtagged as evil rants

eventually zealous warfare between
growing heliocentric individuals  
with sacrilegiously blatantly deranged
fiendishly gnarly heathens –
perhaps the Renaissance own
groovy, nutty, and trippy Timothy Leary
the dawn of a quantifiable, explainable theory
(minus all those concentric
embedded orbital paths)
diktat preachers eventually became weary
to challenge recalcitrant

(purported hell raisers
****, I would have fit right in
as a rebel rouser)
whereby agents provocateurs
spout vestigial claim
to Gaea remaining front
and center of galaxy
on par clubbing with Mother Mary.
Jonathan Moya Apr 2019
To ride the subway clutching half dead roses
in a paper bag is to know that shadows
have weight, light has gravity and geometry
exists in algorithms of pain, that  sadness
is  a reflection of the loneliness of space and time.

Even the sisters under the MTA map,
one cradled in uneasy sleep
in the cleft of the other’s shoulder,
the woke one staring mournfully ahead
as the cab lights alternate between
jaundice station hues and tunnel blacks,
are aware that they are moving grave stones.

The lovers awkwardly  kissing in the next seat,
her eyes slightly open not meeting his gaze,
their heads tilted so far their faces misalign,
exist in the uncertain promise of intimate connection.

A woman stealthily smoking nooses of ash
steps on, cradling  a crying cup of coffee,
while an old man with a cane holding a
rattling tin of coins blindly exits to the platform.

At the top of the exit, the nearest brownstone
has a family gathering to take a clan photo,
their impatient gazes exposing the micro spaces
between their existence and their own lonely thoughts.
Dave M May 2
On wintering nights of bitter frost when all the warmth of life is lost;
as spectral mist swirls in the air...
I think of you with the fragrant hair.

When wind is moaning in the pines and icy fingers touch the spine,
as strangled autumn slowly dies...
I think of you with the laughing eyes.

When darkened clouds, foreboding doom, fly swift, before a leprous moon;
as hoarfrost from the blackthorn drips...
I think of you with the soft, sweet lips.

When hail, its palsied fingers train and scrabble on the windowpane;
as gables whimper under tile...
I think of you with the gentle smile.

When, on such bleak and bitter nights, primeval fear lurks out of sight,
and frightened thoughts, dark tendrils trace...
I think of you with the radiant face.

No earth-bound force can misalign the shuttered refuge of my mind.
Encompassed in that secret place...
My soft, sweet thoughts of you.
Prigs

Prigs keep chanting empty phrases,
Selling lies of “peaceful ways,”
Preach their “light” in glossy phases —
Profitable, self-praised plays.

They inhale the lies unceasing,
Spewed by darkness to the crowd,
Sworn to “positivity,”
Twisted youth that thinks it’s proud.

Like a Boy Scout’s oath, deceiving,
Vows are childish, crude and vain.
Fascism — the brain’s misweaving,
Just like Red indoctrained chains.

Realists? A rare mutation —
Skinless ones who feel the fake.
Many met obliteration,
No protection — raw and flayed.

Wounds cut deeper, grief grows vaster,
Madness sings a lullaby.
Prigs don’t get it — “onward, faster!”
They can’t see, and don’t know why.

Realists — their work is “*****,”
Truth is gruesome, rough, and stark.
Lies, while numbing fools unworthy,
Drive the thinking to the dark.

Truth must rip the lie and burn it —
That’s the labor. Grim the fate:
If you don’t praise all that’s vermin,
You’re erased. You’re not “the state.”

Censorship grows ever bolder —
Clear thought’s always in the scope.
But they pass the swampy smolder,
Let the prigs inhale and cope:

Wash their masks with fresh illusion,
Pose as strong, serene, and bright.
Realist — a weak intrusion,
Labelled sick, dismissed from sight.

Life for prigs is streamlined fiction,
Synced with chaos, world-approved.
Every step — self-justification,
And they love how they're “improved.”

So it was with ******’s legions:
“Swear and serve” — a proud refrain.
Off to war they marched as “heroes,”
Died in glory. Died in vain.

Realists? They met the prison.
Rashism plays the same charade:
Apes are taught to “see no schism,”
While their minds are cut and caged.

See, the split will shred your thinking,
If you’re not a **** — beware.
Are you one? Then keep on shrinking,
Kiss the ground and never dare.

But the prigs will face deletion
With their rot-born world, enslaved.
Satan grins at their submission —
Evil’s just “a smoky wave”

That disturbs their “happy forging,”
Forged in gold of sweet deceit.
Storms are coming. Truth is surging.
Earth will rise — and cleanse their feet.



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



Prigs will kneel — and burn with lies,
Truth ignites what filth denies.
Sweet illusion rots the core —
Storm is coming. Cleanse the floor.



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



The Deadlings

A twisted web of empty chatter —
Deceit, futility, and fear.
World’s madness shapes the soul to shatter —
And life turns ashes, year by year.

Not ashes few — the world’s infected
With walking corpses all around.
To call them “fools” is too selective —
Their Spirit’s gone. Not to be found.

These soulless creatures? Legion, truly.
And brains they lack, yet still they preach.
They mumble “God” in manners duly —
That’s propaganda’s rotting leech.

Fascism now rules the Madhouse —
A Global One, where filth is king.
Spirit fades, like breath in silence,
Mind is nearly vanishing.

The full-scale picture I have painted
In stanzas just a step before.
We all are guilty. All are tainted.
If you don’t fight — you're done. No more.

Your soul will shrink in forced compliance,
Your mind decay in deadly calm.
And you’ll become one of the “deadlings” —
The bottom reeks. BURN DOWN THE SCAM!

The judgment's passed — it came from Higher:
The Sun is lit — the wrath is real.
It will incinerate the liars,
This rotting world that cannot feel.

A twisted web of empty chatter —
Deceit, futility, and fear.
But those not chained by this brain-splatter
May yet survive. Reject the smear,

Reject the lies, the fear — and boldly
Slam the door with final might!
If nothing else — then go in glory,
Unmasking every Beast in sight.

Few will hear — the fog is blinding,
Propaganda eats the sky.
The deadlings kneel, their herds complying —
The ruling gang just lets them die.

They “heal” and herd — like with CowID,
They showed it all. The scam is plain.
But now the Reaper comes — from Higher.
The **** will writhe in holy flame.

The Reasoned few — the Earth will save them.
The tares — He’ll burn. The rot must end.
So stay relentless, clear, and brave then —
Only a slave dies mute, in bend.



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



Deadlings kneel — the Beast commands.
Burn the madhouse! Cleanse the lands.
Rot must die, or all is lost —
Truth survives at any cost.



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



Dead within, yet souls can wake,
Through the ash, the dawn will break.
Chains of madness — shatter, fall —
Spirit’s rise will purge it all.



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



Weeding Out the Truth — The "Left" in Science

"If facts don’t back the theory — toss them out."
— Arthur Bloch, Murphy’s Law shout.


They cull the data they don’t like —
The core of science sold and bought.
Few strange attractors, all alike —
False proofs churned out in heaps and fraught.

Scumbags cook “evidence” on call,
If orders come — no need to think.
Media spreads their toxic thrall,
Poisoning minds to the brink.

But facts that could bring falsehood down,
A flood of truth they hide away.
What reaches ears is rotten sound —
Support for lies that rule the day.

For Satan’s hands direct the show,
These lies come wrapped in dark disguise:
Fake AIDS, CowID’s deadly blow —
And fascism’s cruel, sharp lies.

They think a syringe will **** more than bombs,
While honest scientists grow few.
Colleagues crush each other’s qualms —
Betrayal’s root runs deep and true.

A “theory” made to fit the scheme —
Proofs fabricated in a snap.
From top to roots, this crooked dream
Is built on lies, on greed’s own trap.

All theories now are just a game —
A painted picture of decay.
The ****** of science share the shame —
They hunt the fool who’ll lose his way.

The fool believes, and soon will see —
The Darkness rising, victory.
While those who fight hide silently,
Clear minds outnumbered by decree.

Few fight the Evil, few stand tall,
So chances slim — the darkness looms.
But if you do not bend or fall,
The mad delusion meets its tomb.

That madness bred by falsehood’s seed,
Religion’s chains, Satanic creed.
Life’s not lived — just pain and bleed —
While fascism holds the world’s lead.

“Science” turned faith in fascist hands:
“Proven!” cries the zombie crowd.
Drenched in cretinism’s commands —
The slave is proud, and loudly loud.

Mad slaves churned out in endless line,
Production smooth, a steady flow.
Next step: turn all men to swine —
Science leads them to this low.

Look at Russia’s “Putin” scheme —
A mirror world sunk in the grime.
The bottom of the darkest dream —
A fallen world lost out of time.

Yet here’s a glitch — the warming rise,
“Science” says cows **** climate lies.
A gut instinct warns: the sacrifice
Is Death — the world must pay the price.



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



Flow is No Good

Far more vital is to watch the flow’s own dance,
Than digging deep in moments long gone past,
Torn out from streams where changes shift and prance —
The present’s pulse outstrips the dead-held grasp.

The flow’s alive — no frozen snapshot’s worth,
Studying that is futile, empty pain.
Give me experiments that breathe real birth,
Where life’s not cut and chopped, but free to reign.

Nature’s a flow — but you’ll rip out a thread,
Tear from its pulse some lifeless, stiffened part,
And dissect that — rewards will fill your head,
As if the essence lies in sliced-off art.

Then come your brutal, ruthless classifiers —
A savage sorting tool to earn your fame.
This monstrous gift will please the soulless liars,
Who bow to beasts and play their cruel game.

For beasts alone have served false science well,
Centuries darkened by their wicked rule.
The world’s in darkness, cursed in this hell,
Where ******* drag us all to madness’ pool.

CowID proved what lies can engineer,
Through false science, war on minds is waged.
The Spirit wiped from theory’s core appears,
And life’s true root is lost, its soul disengaged.

Spirit rules over mind in nature’s stream,
But cruel they seek to banish it from sight.
Worse than beasts is soulless void and dream,
Clay molded by monsters in endless night.

These fiends forge monsters blind and vile and grim,
While lies conceal the chaos worldwide spun.
Corrupt “science” feeds the lie’s wicked hymn,
Falsehoods echo until the mind’s undone.

Since childhood, foul nonsense torments the fools,
Tools of dulling minds, a brutal reign.
“Culture” is dumbed down by beastly rules,
Decay and rot infect the world’s domain.

We do not live — we rot beneath the strain,
For Spirit’s spark among us fades and dies.
Beneath the cruel devil’s grinding pain,
Last hope dissolves before our very eyes.

The end approaches, brutal, cold, and grim,
Yet fools and beasts will face their final fall.



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



Wheel of Ages

Putin’s doomed to fade away,
A new vile beast will take his place,
Spewing filth through screens each day —
A rotten plague on human race.

Perestroika thrown to trash,
And all the rest, no cash, no hope.
The nightmare grows, the systems crash —
No strength in spirit, no mind to cope.

We reap what we deserve and sow:
False sickness, horrors thick as night,
Wars raging, famine’s bitter blow —
We earned these curses in our plight.

If we endure, enslaved by lies,
The foul deceit of Satan’s breath,
Only a fool trusts such disguise —
Too late for tears, the hour’s death.

Armageddon looms worldwide,
For brainless slaves, a special fate.
The world unravels, torn and fried,
Its final fall will come too late.

Schwab spews nonsense, vile and grim,
No will remains, just “Swab Zones” rule.
The crowd is fed this trash and dim —
Await the next false plague’s cruel tool.

Putin falls — and all will fall,
Ashes cold beneath new hell.
In the wheel of ages’ call,
A “new” dark world will cast its spell.

Putin’s idol — just a spark,
A cigarette stub, a lost disgrace.
A camp disguised in social mark —
The world enslaved in dark embrace.

The wheel of epochs spins so fast,
Straight into void, new CowID’s lair.
Reason dies again, the past
Repeats its shame in fresh despair.



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



Fists and Pills

Bitter pill each waking day,
Can I breathe here, free at all?
Hardly — life just slips away,
Burdened by the endless fall.

All’s grown stale, and worse to come —
Poisons in those pills we take.
No more bullets, no more drums —
Just the lies that world will break.

With the venom of deceit,
Madness rules the broken land.
Free cheese traps replaced with cheat —
By the vile, cunning hand.

Bitter pills — I’d rather die
Than be crushed by clenched fists’ shame.
Those in pockets hold the lie —
Slaves who feed the Devil’s game.

Slave protests? A nightmare’s grip,
People knead like dough they’re made,
Lies are served as bitter dip,
Dough is shaped, then oven laid.

Darkness came, no spring ahead,
Fools will throw their stones at wise.
Evil laughs while feeding dread —
Soon the feast will claim the skies.

If the fiend should choke and fall —
Then there’s hope, a fighting chance.
We can rise and break the thrall,
If honor leads the last advance.

Honor gathered from the dust,
Small success to light the way.
Conscience called when all seems lost —
Faint but firm against decay.

Conscience small, like mind bereft,
Yet not all is lost in hell.
Though the cards are harshly dealt,
Not all fiends nor fools do dwell.

Numbers won’t always prevail,
Brains will lead the final fight.
Now outcasts, still we sail —
Guided by the flickering light.

Morons swarm like armies blind,
Traitors fill the ranks mid-grade,
Monsters lead and misalign —
No reason to be afraid.

Better death than yielding low,
Better fallen than enslaved.
Through the dark, the pathway’s woe —
Death’s the door to be braved.

Often it’s a brutal way —
Exit sharp, the final cut.
Lies destroy, soon all will pay —
Soon the fiends will face their rut.

But the tide will turn and rise —
Cataclysm will cleanse the blight.
This sick world will vaporize —
Fascism lost in final fight.

All the traitors crushed and burned,
All the fools who sold their soul,
Those whose spirits turned and turned —
Rot and shame will pay the toll.



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



To the False Scientist

You peer into the lens,
Your microscope so small.
You’ll find some worthless filth,
Then bury it for all.

With efforts wasted, blind,
You torture minds so dull.
Pour poison in the grind,
The fools applaud your pull.

More venom in the mix,
Any liquid will do.
Idiots cheer your tricks —
A hero, not a *****.

To fools you spread your lies,
Deceit surrounds your name.
They munch and slavishly rise —
You herd them all to shame.

You lead us to become
The beasts they want us to be.
The monsters cry, “Attack!” —
You pull the strings, you see.

We live within the Spirit —
It’s sovereign, strong, and free.
But you, you wretched parasite,
Sell arrogance as key.

You build this wretched world,
A land of cheap deceit.
They order you the cheese —
You spread it at their feet.

To banish Spirit’s light
Is Darkness’ twisted goal.
In your so-called “proofs” and “facts,”
You shove it from the soul.

We swallow that nonsense —
Mechanism, decay.
We **** ourselves with lies —
Fascism’s foul display.

Rot is what remains
From all your hollow claims.
The goat stands as a god,
Dark servants call his name.

You’re one among the cursed,
A broken mind, unhinged.
Your soul is dead to Light,
In theories, lost, unhinged.

Your doctrines all a trap,
Phantasms bought and sold.
They **** us, tear us down —
Your tales are poison cold.

We are the Children of Light,
Our bodies just decay.
Will you ever understand?
You’re trapped, led all astray.

In your throne of error,
You rule a kingdom blind.
False scientist, you fool,
A shadow of the mind.

CowID exposed your game —
A lie to start the plague.
And with your wicked schemes,
You lead us all to vague.



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



To the False Scientist — Brutal Truth

You squint inside your **** lens,
Your microscope, a joke.
You’ll find some worthless ****,
And shove it in a poke.

With your sick grind, you break
Dumb minds like fragile toys.
Pour poison, watch ’em fake —
Your fools, your stupid boys.

More venom in the brew,
Any filthy flask.
Morons worship you —
No thief, just their mask.

To idiots you lie,
Your fraud spreads thick and fast.
They chew and crawl, comply —
You herd the worthless mass.

You lead us all to rot,
Beasts chained to your hell.
The monsters scream, “Attack!” —
You drag us down this well.

We dwell within the Spirit —
The true power here.
But you, foul sellout,
Breed nothing but fear.

You build this filthy world,
A crapfest paved with lies.
They pay you for their cheese —
You smear it, filth in disguise.

To exile Spirit’s spark —
Is Darkness’ only aim.
In your rotten “theories,”
You **** the sacred flame.

We swallow your ****,
Mechanics of decay.
We slit our own throats —
Fascism’s foul buffet.

Rot spews from your mouth,
Your hollow ******* throne.
The goat is king here —
Darkness claims the throne.

You’re one of those cursed freaks,
A broken, twisted mind.
Your soul is dead, extinct —
In your lies confined.

Your doctrines are death-traps,
Ordered lies, grotesque.
They poison and **** —
Your fantasies grotesque.

We’re children of the Light,
Your bodies rot away.
Will you ever see the truth?
Or just decay and stray?

In your throne of madness,
You’re king of fools and lies.
False scientist, you’re just
A shadow in disguise.

CowID laid you bare —
A plague you called your own.
Your poison’s just begun —
You reap what you have sown.



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



Into the Void

Poems fly into the void,
All else is shallow crap —
Self-love and pride employed,
But lacking any spark.

When you adjust to readers,
Will they find a flame?
They'll find some blind believers —
It’s lies that play the game.

If truth appears, they scoff —
Sharp words are out of style.
Praise lies, dress truth off —
“Love” is poetry’s file.

Slaves cannot love, they’re many,
The herd is thick and blind.
When you bring wrath and warning,
Success you’ll rarely find.

For just a chosen few,
When dirt is piled so high,
And madmen sell their virtue,
Self-justified and sly.

Poisons of false knowledge,
They cloud the narrow mind.
If you strike at these lies,
Your verses must be lined

With edge, with fire, with grit —
No pleas, no weak request.
Wash blood with every bit —
Your poem’s baptism test.

A filthy devil sits
Above, no mercy shown.
Your verse? A pit, not hits,
If sanity has flown.

Instead, they churn out trash —
“Love” in rotten Hell.
Goats bleating with brash flash,
Turning verse to hellish smell.

Poems fly... I don’t know where —
Perhaps some other Hell.
I do not grieve or care —
I fight what’s raised by hell.

See **** once more crucified,
Spouting nonsense to the herd.
A new **** poem’s cried —
I couldn’t give a word.

Will madness praise or trample? —
Art moves on its own way.
If you don’t rant or sample —
Your days will waste away.

In fruitless toil, you’ll be,
Yet still a spark may shine.
This world’s foul tyranny
Presses with crushing spine.

At least a grain of truth,
In verse, brings some success.
Half-truths breed the youth
Of **** and wickedness.

Far worse than cunning lies,
Is poison hid so deep —
Their twisted nature flies,
Earth’s core will soon reap.

This Hell on Earth will burn,
Sun scorches all the mess.
Chaos will crash and churn —
And purge this wickedness.

So sellout ways won’t help,
False grandeur just a chain.
A burden to the self,
A shackle on the brain.

So fly, my verse, take wing —
No matter where you land.
If brave souls hear you sing —
You’ll never lose this stand.



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



Reflecting World Decay in Verse

No harder task exists than this:
To catch the world’s decay in rhyme,
To mirror all its rotten bliss,
Its wild delirium, grime.

To write such themes in verse — a grind,
Almost beyond control.
To grasp the madness of the mind,
The rot that swallows whole.

You’ve got to think, and think some more,
Invest your time and soul,
To dissect how vile worms implore
Small minds to serve their goal.

They cloak their hate in “truth” and “love,”
Disguise the foul and sick,
Demand your sacrifice thereof —
Your spirit, torn and thick.

Relentless tension shapes the beat,
The rhyme must strike like steel,
You’ve got to be yourself — compete,
Or else no truth you’ll feel.

If passion fuels the rhyme and thought,
The weak will fall behind.
No lazy fool will find the sought,
No meaning will they grind.

Reflecting such complex decay
Through verse — nothing’s more true.
Though many fail to light the way,
A few will make it through.

To pierce the dark, begin the path
Toward Light beyond this blight,
For endless won’t endure the wrath
Of foulness, scorn, and night.

The poem holds a spirit’s soul,
And Spirit rules the few,
Where Mind has not lost all control —
Their vision pure and true.

Spirit plus Mind — Spirit leads,
That’s what the verse restores.
If so, then all that truth proceeds —
No madman’s feeble wars.

The “angry poet” in this world,
Is therapist and blade.
He adds catharsis — truth unfurled —
To madness and charade.

With harsh style cutting lies apart,
With facts the verse unfolds.
Yet soon we all will leave this part —
To Spirit’s realm untold.

Who’s learned this hell, yet kept his soul,
Not sold to beasts or lies,
Will rise above the murky shoal,
While falsehood fades and dies.

To crush the lies — the poet’s task,
If Mind will lend its hand.
Sharp verses cut — no luck or mask,
But wisdom’s strict command.

For minds are often sieves and holes,
Like water lost in sand,
A cruel habit, bred in souls,
To feed the darkness’ brand.

This circus tightrope nears its end,
The soul may drift away,
If servile fool, no will to bend,
You’ve lost your light and sway.

Defiance, will unbent — the code
Of verses fierce and raw.
The stench of rot — a heavy load —
If lesson’s lost, no law.

Complex themes must be addressed
In order, line by line.
It won’t bring joy, but nothing less —
Than truth to break the spine.

No other path can heal this blight,
The sickness deep, insane.
Say no to madness, lies — take flight —
Escape the world-wide chain!



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



Land of Losharya, Planet of Trash

Land of Losharya,
Planet of Trash:
Where Evil scripts
Maim souls in thrash.

Big are the wins
In this cruel game —
If you’re not “with it,”
You’re cast to shame.

If honest and bold —
You’re hunted down.
If vile and cold —
You wear the crown.

Or feed at troughs,
Trampling the weak.
Almost asylums —
The slaves who seek.

Madness is norm
In that dark place.
A world sunk deep
Beneath disgrace.

Beasts who rule
From shadows’ veil,
Wild morals loose —
Like rats that flail.

Land of Losharya,
Planet of Trash:
A haze so thick
Of lies that thrash.

From childhood lies —
You’ll lose your mind.
Perfect method —
You’ll never find

Freedom’s spark,
While serving freaks.
Lifelong fooling,
Truth never speaks.

Planet of Trash
Drifts to its end:
Souls withered dry —
Await their penance.

Soon the reckoning —
Through cataclysms’ roar,
Then cold will come —
To cleanse and restore.



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



Land of Losharya, Planet of Crap

Land of Losharya,
Planet of Crap—
Where Evil scripts
Soul-crushing traps.

Big wins here,
Feeding the beast—
If you’re sane,
You’re cast to the least.

Bold and honest?
You’re hunted, crushed.
Vile and slimy?
You sit and hush.

Or lick the trough,
Step on the weak,
Crazy asylum—
Slaves that reek.

Madness is law
In this hellhole.
World drowned deep
In filth and control.

Monsters rule
Behind the veil,
Loose morals,
Rat-like, frail.

Land of Losharya,
Planet of Crap—
Lies choke air,
Brains snap and snap.

Since childhood fed
With poison and lies,
You’ll lose your mind,
Never to rise.

Think you’re free?
You’re their **** fool—
Life’s a lie,
Serving the cruel.

Planet of Crap
Heading to death—
Souls shriveled dry,
Pay with their breath.

Coming soon—
Cataclysm’s fire,
Then cold purge—
Burn it entire.



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



The Stench of Earth’s Breeding Pit

Two hemispheres,
A mess of neurons—
I’m a ******* lost
Among loud morons,

If I buy the crap
That brain’s the source
Of all our thoughts.
Listen close, of course—

Put a point in this fight:
Brain’s just a receiver.
You’ll soon see the blight—
A nursery for evil deceiver.

You’ll judge it fierce,
Call it the FALL
Of this world, where creatures
Rule through decay’s thrall,

Mind and Spirit crushed,
All puppets in hand.
“Life’s just fine!”—they hush,
Lulling the land.

Spirit’s life’s core,
Mind must obey.
Dissenters? Outcast—
“Not sharp,” they say.

World turned inside out—
Lies, tricks, and spite.
This final age—no doubt—
Brings reckoning’s bite.

For the perversions
Alien to Light.
Destruction looms—
Monsters face the fight!

Slaves fallen low,
Beneath the pit’s rim—
Burn with the creatures—
Farewell, stench grim!



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



Bell’s Theorem

Boldly it revealed—
The world’s unbreakable thread,
Where “causality” is weak,
A pauper, a myth to be reckoned.

Particles of God entwined
In nonlocal binds, combined—
A UNITY, a sacred lace,
That holds all space and time in place.

Break all dogmas, break the chains,
Spirit’s bond forever remains.
Only with your gut you’ll feel
This binding force, so raw, so real.

Believe the “strict” world order,
And you become a puppet’s warder,
Under control of venomous fiends—
Their science spits out tainted schemes.

These monsters sweep away the truths
That challenge cause-and-effect, and sooth
The fools who buy the lies they spread—
By toxic media’s poison fed.

Schools churn out the numb and blind,
Who chew their thoughts, their wills confined,
Milling nonsense all around—
Souls decay where lies abound.

Fight the tide of madness, flee
Back to Spirit’s clarity,
Where madness ruled as “norm” before—
Dare to rise, or be no more.



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



Mind’s Forshmak

“Buy — find; sell — you lose.”
An old proverb, sharp and true.

Mind’s forshmak filled with lies,
With fears disguised by faint hopes’ guise—
Just enough to keep the sludge and dread
Alive inside the hollow head.

Exploiting hope’s been old as earth—
New fools born to prove their worth,
Pushed to worship ancient lies,
With powdered cheeks and hollow eyes.

Dressed in trends to sell the show,
Then crushed by “wisdom” from below—
That’s the core of every evil scheme,
A nightmare cloaked in false esteem.

Abstract idols rule us all,
Democracy’s the greatest fall—
A circus farce, a joke so grim,
No deeper nonsense found in him.

Bought and sold, your soul’s the cost,
Feeding on the meaningless dross.
But chiefly, heed the media’s call—
They rule governments, one and all.

From Covid’s stage they showed the way—
A phantasmagoria’s play,
On screens, vile puppets holding court,
Not elected, but the sport

Of hidden hands that issue laws,
With “advice” to mask their claws—
The festering sore democracy—
A farce, a cruel hypocrisy.

Mind’s forshmak now takes new form,
Crafted by **** in brewing storm—
A “new world” built on false disease,
Where “care” means death with cruel ease.



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



Mind’s Forshmak — A Poisoned Slop

“Buy — you find; sell — you lose.”
That proverb’s poison, cold abuse.

Mind’s forshmak — soaked in fear,
With fake hopes drizzled to keep you near—
A sludge that suffocates the soul,
A bitter grind that swallows whole.

Exploiting hope — a cruel, old game,
New fools bred just the same,
Forced to kneel before old lies,
Painted masks to blind their eyes.

Dressed up fresh to fool the crowd,
Then crushed beneath “wisdom” loud—
The core of every sick design,
Where evil’s roots and poison twine.

Idols forged from empty words,
Democracy — the joke absurd—
A circus freak show, vile and grim,
A stinking pit, a rotten hymn.

Sell your soul and buy their lies,
Feed on garbage they devise.
But mainly trust the media’s grip—
They run the world, a venomous script.

Covid’s mask revealed the farce,
A nightmare stage, a rigged charade—
On screens, the puppets play their parts,
Not chosen, but enslaved by arts

Of hidden fiends who pull the strings,
Their “advice” a cloak for kings—
Democracy’s festering wound,
A foul cesspool, tightly wound.

Now mind’s forshmak’s brewed anew,
By **** who build a world untrue—
Fake plagues unleashed to **** with care,
Where “concern” is death laid bare.



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



Time of Change

Change means lies and betrayal,
Stupidity, fear, decay,
Black crowd comes to replace hell —
That’s why fascism’s here to stay.

Demons ruled this world before,
But hired lackeys, fat and sly,
Feasting while they wage their war,
Sipping tea as time goes by.

Few of those can launch the war
With CowIDs and their lies.
But the **** will try much more —
Lies that flood and hypnotize.

Fools obey these fiends’ commands,
Ready just to bite and chew,
To obey with open hands —
Even “fetch” they’ll do for you.

Demons told their ****: “Build fast
A Digital Camp, prepare!”
And they’re running full at last —
Noise, barking dogs, despair.

Look around, you’ll see those mutts
Barking loud, in every place.
Noose or noose — it’s all the cuts,
Bites that poison, leave no trace.

Dogs don’t bite to **** outright,
They bite often, slow and mean —
Till the body loses fight,
Then the mind gets crushed between.

Change is coming: those ****** dogs
Are prepared to take your place.
Don’t surrender, break their logs —
Death’s harsh Reaper holds no grace.

Nonsense: old hag with her scythe
Will be worse than demons’ game.
If your life’s a sieve, no blithe —
She’ll shred you up, there’s no shame.



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



Writings and Priests

Catechism of lies — a crisis
Brews for souls, a dark abyss.
Aiming for Heaven, they’ve fallen
To Hell’s pit — fools’ cruel twist.

Those who trust get filtered truth,
Only parts allowed to see.
Madness wrapped in broken logic,
Nonsense spreads like misery.

Strengthening faith in the notion
That the fat priest is God’s link,
Not a brazen, filthy tyrant —
Slob who’ll push you to the brink.

Satanism’s the core of faiths,
Buddhism lags behind, it’s true.
Chains on soul weigh heavier
Than on body — fascism, too.

It invades your mind and spirit,
Masked as kindness, smiles fake.
False contagions have been shown —
Only few refuse to break.

Schools and priests breed ******* slaves,
Propaganda serves the beast.
Blindly trusting servants’ lies —
Faith reduced to painful feast.

If you seek the path to Freedom —
Doubt, search deep within your core.
What you find is still unknown —
Don’t demand, explore much more.

You may get heresy or madness,
When you walk through empty mind,
Vanity, cheap chatter, nonsense —
Junk that’s easy to find.

Yet a few will find the spark,
Not the dung, but shining stones —
Diamonds born of Spirit’s miracle,
From the Mind’s eternal tones.



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



Flagging Wolves with Paper Chains

Endless paper chase — a trap,
Where nonsense rules the business map.
Often paperwork outranks the deed,
If you’re a sly fox, sharp to breed.

You can trick the filthy fiends,
Who'd bend you with their greedy schemes,
Taxes crushing like a noose —
Judgment made in law’s abuse.

Tax fiends watch your every move,
A flock enslaved, with none to prove:
You’re born for profit, beast’s delight —
If sharp, your life’s a grueling fight.

See it clear — your work’s in vain,
Only films enrich the main.
Real life’s darkness, stench, and waste,
Where promises are swiftly chased.

At best, a raider’s grip will claim
Your hard-earned business — gone, no name.
Such fates for ventures in hard times,
No saints survive these crooked crimes.

The mind, drunk on hope, will fail —
Less watchful means a freighted jail.
Learn misery, the sum, the cell,
But never bow to logic’s spell.

If mind obeys your Spirit’s flame,
It grows and thrives — no greed, no shame.
Spend your years on this alone —
And never join the cruel drone.

Not being ****’s an art, a fight:
Shape your senses, clear your sight,
Serve not mind, but Spirit’s ray —
Your inner Light to guide your way.



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



Life Worth Just Broken Coins

Thoughts to "fly" from balconies?
Well, worse harm there simply isn’t—
Life, a broken coin by all degrees,
Priced cheap, a worthless imprint.

Life shattered, cracked, and worn—
Fear and lies have done the breaking,
A fiend exposed, forlorn,
Truth’s facade is simply faking.

The fiends delight to bow to Night,
Media drowning all in sludge,
They help to ***** the faintest light,
Drowning truth in filthy grudge.

If you refuse to join the pests,
You need not be their kind of ****.
Rise UP! Don’t settle for the rests—
No life among the rotten, numb!

For Spirit’s Height, prepare your mind,
Though world’s a madness dressed anew,
New fascism and dumbness bind,
The **** infects both me and you.

They swarm around, the dull and lame,
Smart minds vanished like a ghost.
The mind in darkness runs its game—
Signal clear, but not a toast!

Not from the balcony you’ll leap—
Cataclysm would be your fall.
To Spirit’s Spheres your soul must keep,
Or dumbness drags you through the thrall.

To fly or fall — the choice is yours.
The fiends approach, the final fight.
Only in battle’s searing wars,
Can you save your soul from night.

Hear only it—your inner guide—
Or be lost to endless dread.



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



Melancholy and Creation

To banish grief — a wasted fight:
You must command it with your might,
Bend all the pain and stress inside
To art’s sharp edge — don’t whine or hide.

Melancholy’s natural when chained,
So sort the lies and filth ingrained,
Use sorrow’s fuel to grind your verse,
Turn aching dust into the curse.

If you’re a writer, there’s more ways
To shade the meaning, weave the phrase,
To dance on edges, fine and sly,
Before your lines in nonsense die.

For artists, harder still the load—
Churlionis once showed that road.
Today you drown in madness’ sea,
Better Lira’s words might be.

But music’s fate is even worse,
Most folks are fools who crave the curse.
Pop hits are served on silver plates,
While wise ones seek more cryptic fates.

And film? The last resort, my friend:
With money’s skill, the fiends defend
Their “mainstream” traps — in broke despair,
All else decays beyond repair.

Collect your grief — explode with force,
Surpass the shame, the oily course.
These final times demand but rage,
Just hold on — end’s near the stage.

For Cataclysm sums it all:
No more deceit, no more the crawl.
Give all your last to Melancholy,
And leave this Hell both fierce and folly.

Grief squared, grief cubed — a symbol raw,
A harsh world’s truth that cuts and gnaws.
Better harsh symbols, clear and bright,
Than sellout cretins lost in blight.

Raise up a monument to Grief,
As you depart this hellish reef.
Beyond the spheres, perhaps, is joy —
Here in this Hell, just filth and ploy.



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



Time to Die

It’s time — the den squeezes tight and chokes,
No SOS — “save our broken folks!”
This cursed world: dumb slaves bow down,
Before the Evil’s iron crown.

No chance to rise within this mess,
It’s total — media’s distress,
A slave confined since first day’s dawn,
By wicked **** who rule the spawn.

Directives given to the fiend,
Who thinks of profit, never heed.
He sets the Overtonian bars —
Windows, walls, and endless scars.

Relentless, cruel, he plants the pain,
For those who feel, no light remains.
The den’s no place for minds that think —
Just fools and ******* on the brink.

The den’s a cage, a home of slaves,
Where filth and dullness spread like waves,
And spirit’s torn by Hell’s own maw,
Devoured deep beneath its law.

Only Cataclysm will suffocate,
Who keeps a soul in this dark state,
Will flee the den, and rise anew,
To Spirit’s Spheres — beyond the rue.



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



In the Dungeon of Darkness

Gray shades of measure hold no sway—
Darkness through the gray ensnares our way.
Stop chasing shadows, hues, and tones—
Only Light can save us in these bones.

Nonsense all—that Light alone
Can’t live without the Shadow’s throne.
These twisted words would bend the mind,
And reason suffers, falls behind.

Such "dialectics" drag the crowd
Into a madness, bleak and loud.
God’s spark depends on none of this—
No “fuel” can dim eternal bliss.

In Inner Spaces high and vast,
Tyranny drives falsehood fast.
It crushes Freedom’s fragile flame,
And drowns the soul in guilt and shame.

Dulling minds and rotting hearts—
The fate that tears all worlds apart.
What saves us? Consciousness, or pain?
Or dumbly marching to the slain?

Ten percent must grasp the Dark,
This fires the rage that strikes the mark.
Without the fight, you’re lost, undone—
No battle means the war is won.

Awareness, Light—that’s where we fight,
To rise from knees and claim the right.
In Hell, only together strong,
Yet chances seem forever wrong.

The Cataclysm will erase—
Soon dawns a clean, reborn embrace.
From scratch will Beauty then arise—
A Light without the Shadow’s lies.

But those who kneel will never see
Such truth as Beauty’s victory:
A little Shadow makes you weak,
A wretch, a fool, a soul to break.

There are Spiritual Realms above—
Where Light is both foundation, love.
ONLY LIGHT—no Shadow’s seed,
Shadows live in Hell’s dark breed.




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



Modern Ku Klux **** and Their Plan to Wipe the Sheep

Ku Klux ****’s plan is lost, decayed—
Ruined by CowID’s cruel raid.
Too few fell, though the sheep obeyed—
A shame, disgrace, their coup delayed.

They need to fan the flames of war—
The reason’s old, but still in store:
They’ll mark with brands to rule some more,
Subjugation’s deadly core.

That brand’s inside the dullest brains—
Idiocy now reigns as gains.
It crushes like a louse’s pains,
This ****** world that still remains.

The modern ****—once strict and planned—
Now chaos strikes with sudden hand.
The Cataclysm’s near at hand,
A global lord will soon command.

Behind him comes the Weary God,
Who’s tired of this vile fraud.
Earth’s evils gnaw his spirit’s rod,
But fools are deaf, blind, and flawed.

Involution’s not the scheme,
That once they dreamed, or dared to dream.
The world’s now close to empty stream—
Cataclysm brings the gleam.

For those who’ve stood and not yet fell,
The Spirit’s Spheres will serve as shell.
For beasts lost deep in lies and hell,
Their homeland will be smoke’s swell.

The sun now shines with fiercest flame,
To burn this madness down to shame.
Hey fools, get tight, prepare your aim—
Just ‘round the bend awaits your game.

The fool "thinks"—he’s not the prey,
But shooter in this deadly play.
Move with your last strength today—
The time to burn the targets, hey!



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



Modern Ku Klux **** and Their Plan to Exterminate the Sheep

Ku Klux ****’s lost every plan—
CowID crushed their weak scam.
Too few sheep fell for the scam—
Shame and scorn on every man.

They gotta spark the flames of war—
Old tricks, yeah, but still *******:
Brand the herd and keep the score,
Slaves beneath the iron floor.

That mark’s drilled deep in stupid brains—
Idiots now run the plains.
Crushing like a louse’s pains,
This filthy world with toxic stains.

Modern ****’s a broken joke—
Chaos crushed the twisted yoke.
Cataclysm’s the final poke,
Global hell’s about to smoke.

Behind it comes the Weary God,
Tired of Earth’s vile rod.
Spirit gnawed by filth and fraud,
While fools stay deaf, dumb, and flawed.

Involution’s not their scheme—
Their dark plans break at the seam.
World’s nearly void, lost its gleam—
Cataclysm’s the harsh dream.

For those few who’ve not yet dropped,
Spirit’s spheres where they’ve been popped.
But beasts in lies, their fate is locked—
Their grave is smoke; their bones are mocked.

The sun blazes hotter still,
Burning down this cursed ****.
Hey dumb sheep, stand firm and chill—
Around the bend’s the killing drill.

The fool “thinks” he holds the gun—
Not the target, but the one
Pulling triggers till it’s done—
Burn the marks, the final run.



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



Modern Ku Klux **** and Their Sheep-Slaughter Scheme

Ku Klux ****? Their plan’s a joke —
CowID crushed their rotten cloak.
Too few sheep bought the **** lie—
Shame and spit on all that try.

Time to light the ****** fire—
Old war games for fresh desire.
Brand the dumb to keep control,
Stamp the herd—destroy the soul.

That brand’s burnt deep in stupid heads,
Idiots feeding on the dregs.
Crushing fools like lice infest,
This filthy world, a noxious pest.

Modern ****’s a shattered farce,
Chaos tore their crooked charts.
Cataclysm’s coming fast,
World’s last breath, the final blast.

Behind it stalks a God worn thin,
Sick of Earth’s corruption, sin.
Spirit’s gnawed by filth and ****,
Fools stay deaf, dumb, deaf and numb.

Involution? Hell no, friend—
Their vile plan has reached its end.
World’s a void, a wasted space—
Cataclysm cleans the place.

For the few who’ve kept their flame,
Spirit’s spheres will stake their claim.
But beasts lost in lies, ****** souls—
Their fate is ash, their graves are coals.

The sun burns hotter every day,
Scorching all the lies away.
Hey dumb sheep, get in line—
Death waits just beyond the sign.

The fool thinks he pulls the trigger—
Not a target but the killer.
Pull the cord with twisted grin—
Burn the marks, the death begins.



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



Modern Ku Klux **** and Their Plan to Slaughter Sheep

Ku Klux ****? Their worthless scheme
Got smashed by CowID’s steam.
Too **** few sheep bought their lie —
Shame on all who let it fly.

Time to spark the war anew,
Old tricks, filthy, stale, and cruel.
Brand the fools, their minds enslave,
Keep the herd — obedient, grave.

That cursed brand’s inside their brains,
Idiots drowning in their stains.
Crushing sheep like vermin pests,
This rotten world feeds on their mess.

Modern ****’s a broken joke,
Chaos ripped their plans to smoke.
Cataclysm’s hammer falls,
Final curtain — death calls.

Behind the scene, a god worn thin,
Sick of Earth’s vile, twisted sin.
Spirit gnawed by filth and grime,
Fools remain deaf, dumb, and blind.

Involution’s not the game
They planned — it’s all ash and shame.
World’s a void — a hollow shell,
Cataclysm rings the bell.

Few remain who keep the spark,
Spirit’s realms to light the dark.
But the beasts in lies, they rot,
Ash and smoke become their lot.

The sun’s a blade that cuts and burns,
Scorching lies, the tide now turns.
Hey, dumb sheep, line up tight —
Death waits just beyond the light.

The fool thinks he pulls the string,
Not the target, but the king
Of destruction — twisted grin —
Burn the marks, let death begin.



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



Modern Ku Klux **** and Their ****** Plan to Slaughter Sheep

Ku Klux ****? Their rotten plot
Was crushed, destroyed by CowID’s shot.
Too few fools swallowed all their lies —
Shame on sheep who close their eyes.

Ignite the war, fan hatred’s flame,
Old poison, sick and vile game.
Stamp the mark on dumb skulls tight —
Keep the herd locked up in fright.

That cursed brand’s a plague in brains,
Dumb as dirt, soaked through with stains.
Crushed like lice beneath their boots,
This hellish world feeds on their roots.

Modern **** — a festering curse,
Chaos tore apart their verse.
Cataclysm’s wrath will rise,
Final reckoning in skies.

Behind the scenes, a god worn thin,
Sick to death of Earth’s vile sin.
Spirit gnawed by filth and slime,
Fools remain deaf, blind, and blind.

Involution’s twisted lie —
Not what they’d planned — watch it die.
World’s a wasteland, void, and hell,
Cataclysm rings the knell.

Few survive — keep spirit’s fire,
Rise beyond the blackened mire.
But the beasts trapped in their lies,
Burn to ash, smoke in the skies.

The sun’s a blade — cuts, burns, rips —
Scorching all their coward lips.
Hey, dumb sheep, march tight and close —
Death’s cold grip around you grows.

Fools think they pull the strings — no!
They’re the trigger, bringing woe.
Power drunk on hate and spite —
Burn the sheep, ignite the fight!

This world decays, rots, and bleeds —
Puppets caught in madman’s deeds.
****’s last breath, a twisted roar,
Cataclysm’s coming door.

No mercy for the blind and dumb —
The end is near, the beat of drums.
Wake up, rise, or burn in flame —
Only fury wins this game!




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



Modern Ku Klux ****

Their rotten schemes all blown to dust —
CowID crushed their poisoned lust.
Too few sheep swallowed poison whole,
Shame scars the herd’s corrupted soul.

Ignite the fires, fan the rage,
Old lies scream from every cage.
Stamp the brand on numb skulls cracked —
No mercy now, no turning back.

This cursed mark, a plague of fools,
Brains boiled dry by their cruel rules.
Like lice crushed under tyrant’s heel,
Their shameless lies the darkness seal.

Modern ****, a festering blight,
Chaos tears apart their night.
Cataclysm’s hammer falls,
Final curtain, death’s harsh calls.

A god worn thin, bloodied and raw,
Tired of Earth’s vile, rotten law.
Spirit gnawed by filth and shame,
But fools remain deaf, blind, and tame.

Involution’s sickening lie —
Not what they dreamed, only die.
World crumbles, rots, decays —
Cataclysm ends their days.

Few stand tall, fierce in the fire,
Rising up from the funeral pyre.
But beasts trapped in their own lies,
Burn to ash, smoke fills the skies.

The sun’s a sword — it slices deep,
Burns the coward, scalds the sheep.
Hey, dumb sheep, line up tight —
Death’s dark shadow blots your sight.

Fools think they pull the strings? No!
They’re the trigger of their woe.
Power drunk on hate and spite —
Burn the sheep, ignite the fight!

This world festers, bleeds, decays —
Puppets dance in madman’s plays.
****’s last howl, a desperate roar,
Cataclysm breaks the door.

No mercy for the blind, the numb —
Drums of doom, the end has come.
Wake or burn in hellish flame —
Only fury wins this game!

Rise! Rage! Smash the chains, break the mold,
Burn down the lies, shatter the cold.
This final battle — no retreat!
Hell awaits, but death’s defeat.



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


Modern Ku Klux ****

Their rotten plans lie smashed to dust,
CowID crushed their filth and lust.
Too few sheep drank their toxic brew —
A shameful herd, a poisoned crew.

Ignite the wars, fan blazing hate,
Old lies that drag the world to fate.
Stamp that brand on cracked, numb minds —
No mercy now, the last binds.

This cursed mark, a plague of fools,
Brains drained dry by rotten rules.
Like lice beneath a tyrant’s heel,
Their lies in shadows seal and steal.

The modern ****, a festering blight,
Lost their grip in chaos’ night.
Cataclysm’s hammer drops —
End of lies, the body flops.

A god grown tired, worn and raw,
Fed up with Earth’s grotesque law.
Spirit gnawed by filth and shame,
But fools remain deaf, blind, tame.

Involution, death disguised,
Not the plan — just world’s demise.
The system crumbles, rots, decays —
Cataclysm seals their days.

Few still stand, defiant, fierce,
Rising up through smoke and pierce.
While beasts of lies and cursed ****
Burn to ash, and doom will come.

The sun slashes deep and bright,
Searing cowards in the night.
Hey dumb sheep, get in line tight —
Death looms just beyond your sight.

Think you pull the strings, you fools?
You’re the trigger, you’re the tools.
Fueled by hate and spiteful lies —
Burn the flock, hear their cries!

This world festers, bleeds, decays —
Puppets dance their mindless plays.
****’s last howl, a desperate scream,
Cataclysm shatters the dream.

No mercy now for blind, numb sheep,
Drums of doom their souls will keep.
Wake or burn in hell’s fierce flame —
Fury’s all that wins this game!

Rise! Rage! Smash chains, break the mold!
Burn the lies, shatter the cold!
This final war has just begun —
Hell’s at door, and we won’t run!

No more lies! No more shame!
Face the fire, call your name!
For those who bow and blindly kneel —
Only ashes left to feel.

See the tyrants shake and sweat,
Their false empire’s final debt.
A broken throne, a dying god,
Bound to rot in filth and sod.

But Spirit’s flame still burns inside,
A fierce, untamed, relentless tide.
They choke on power’s bitter taste —
But time will end their foul disgrace.

So stand, you few, the brave, the strong,
Your souls the fire, your hearts the song.
The end is near, the veil will tear —
Justice rises from despair.

No coward’s path, no easy way,
The fight is fierce — no time to stray.
For only those who dare to rage
Can break free from this cursed cage.

The world will burn, and from its ash,
New light will rise — a bright new clash.
The ****’s dark reign, the fool’s disguise,
Destroyed beneath the blazing skies.

So scream your rage! Let fury fly!
No more lies, no more “goodbye.”
This final battle’s brutal call —
For freedom, fury, end of all!




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



The Modern Ku Klux ****

Their rotten scheme? Crushed under CowID’s heel,
A blighted plague that no sane sheep could feel.
The poison they spilled—too weak, too thin—
The herd rejected their venomous sin.

Burn the world in wars of lies, ignite the hate,
Old poison brewed to seal our fate.
Brand that shame on every mind —
A plague of idiots, broken and blind.

A crawling lice upon the flesh,
A filth that festers, grows afresh.
Their twisted lies choke out the light,
A world sunk deep in endless night.

The ****, once proud, now rotting corpses,
Their dark plans crushed beneath fate’s forces.
Cataclysm comes, no mercy shown,
An end to tyrants’ ****** throne.

A god grown sick, corrupted, spent,
His hollow soul, earth’s torment.
Spirit crushed beneath his scorn,
Yet fools stay deaf, dumb, and forlorn.

Degeneration, rot, decay —
Not plans, but ruin’s cold display.
The world collapses, black and bleak —
Cataclysm’s fire, vengeance speaks.

The few who keep their souls intact,
Rise from ashes, counterattack.
While beasts of lies and vile deceit
Burn to cinders beneath our feet.

The sun sears down with blazing wrath,
Incinerating fools in its path.
“Move tighter, sheep! No place to hide!”
Death’s sharp breath waits just outside.

Think you pull strings? You’re the **** pawn—
The trigger pulled at crack of dawn.
Fueled by lies and venom’s flood —
Burn the flock with boiling blood!

This world reeks of death and shame,
Puppets trapped in mindless game.
****’s last scream, a shrieking blight,
Cataclysm’s hammer crushing night.

No mercy for the blind, the numb,
Hell’s bell tolls, the final drum.
Wake or burn — the choice is yours,
Fury’s storm breaks all the doors!

Rise up, rage! Break every chain!
Burn the lies, purge the stain!
The war’s begun — no turning back!
Hell’s storm unleashed — attack, attack!

No lies left, no shame remains,
Only ashes, only flames.
Those who kneel and bow will fall,
Dust and echoes, nothing at all.

Watch tyrants shake, their empires crack,
The rotten throne, the poisoned pack.
Their false gods drown in filth and gore —
Death’s cold kiss at their front door.

But Spirit’s fire still roars inside,
A tidal wave, a rising tide.
They choke and scream on bitter lies,
While truth ignites the stormy skies.

Stand, you few, with hearts afire,
Your rage a wild, untamed pyre.
The end is near — the veil is torn,
Justice rising, new world born.

No coward’s path, no soft retreat,
The battle rages — no defeat.
Only warriors who dare the flame
Can shatter chains and break the game.

The world will burn and rise anew,
From blackened ash, a sky of blue.
The ****’s dark reign, the fools’ disguise,
Shattered beneath the furious skies.

Scream your wrath! Let fury fly!
No more lies — no more goodbyes.
This final call, the battle’s roar,
Fury unleashed — the end of war!



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



The Modern Ku Klux ****

I. The Rot and The Poison

Their rotten scheme?
Crushed beneath CowID’s heel —
A blight too vile, too weak to steal
The minds of sheep who see the deal.

The poison poured — a failed design,
The herd refused that tainted wine.
Burn this world with war and lies,
Ignite the hate before it dies!

Brand that shame on every mind —
Idiots blind, the herd confined.
A crawling louse on living skin,
A filth that festers, grows within.


II. The Fall of Tyrants

Once proud, the **** is now a corpse —
Their dark plans crushed by fate’s fierce force.
Cataclysm comes without a plea,
To break their throne and set us free.

A god, now hollow, sick and spent,
His spirit torn, earth’s discontent.
The fools remain — deaf, dumb, and blind,
Consumed by rot, they lag behind.


III. The Ruin and The Rise

Decay, destruction — not a plan,
But ruin’s cold and final span.
The world collapses, black as coal —
Cataclysm cleanses soul.

The few who keep their souls intact,
From ashes rise to counteract.
While beasts of lies and vile deceit
Burn to dust beneath our feet.


IV. The Fiery Reckoning

The sun blazes with wrath untamed,
Incinerating all unnamed.
“Move closer, sheep! No place to run!”
Death’s sharp breath waits — the end begun.

Think you pull strings? You’re just a pawn —
The trigger pulled before the dawn.
Fueled by lies and venom’s flood —
Burn the flock in boiling blood!


V. The Storm of Justice

This world reeks of death and shame,
Puppets caught in mindless game.
The ****’s last scream — a shrieking blight,
Cataclysm’s hammer shatters night.

No mercy for the blind and numb,
Hell’s bell tolls — the final drum.
Wake or burn — the choice is yours,
Fury’s storm will break the doors!


VI. The Rise of the Few

Rise up, rage! Break every chain!
Burn the lies, purge the stain!
The war is on — no turning back!
Hell’s storm unleashed — attack, attack!

No lies left, no shame remains,
Only ashes, only flames.
Those who kneel and bow will fall,
Dust and echoes — nothing at all.


VII. The End of Tyranny

Watch tyrants shake, their empires crack,
The rotten throne, the poisoned pack.
False gods drown in filth and gore —
Death’s cold kiss at their front door.

Spirit’s fire still roars inside,
A tidal wave, a rising tide.
They choke and scream on bitter lies,
While truth ignites the stormy skies.


VIII. The Final Battle

Stand, you few, with hearts afire,
Your rage a wild, untamed pyre.
The end is near — the veil is torn,
Justice rises, new world born.

No coward’s path, no soft retreat,
The battle rages — no defeat.
Only warriors who dare the flame
Can shatter chains and break the game.


IX. The New Dawn

The world will burn and rise anew,
From blackened ash, a sky of blue.
The ****’s dark reign, the fools’ disguise,
Shattered beneath the furious skies.

Scream your wrath! Let fury fly!
No more lies — no more goodbyes.
This final call, the battle’s roar,
Fury unleashed — the end of war!



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



The Modern Ku Klux ****


Their plan’s all wrecked — dead on the floor,
CowID crushed it, broke the core.
Sheep refused, swallowed no more,
Shame and guilt — what a bore!

Fuel the fire — war’s the game,
Stamps of submission, brands of shame.
Brains are fried, dumb and tame,
Lice crawl deep, spit the flame!



Modern ****’s a rotting mess,
Schemes collapsing, nothing less.
Cataclysm’s coming fast,
Tyrants fall, their reign won’t last.



God’s tired, broken, torn apart,
Earth’s foul stench clawing his heart.
Fools stay deaf, blind in the dark,
Rotting core — a poisoned spark.

Decay’s not what we designed,
World’s a shadow, fate aligned.
But from ashes, those who fight,
Rise to claim eternal light.



Modern ****’s a rotting mess,
Schemes collapsing, nothing less.
Cataclysm’s coming fast,
Tyrants fall, their reign won’t last.



Sun burns hotter, no escape,
Madness burns this human shape.
“Come closer, sheep!” Death’s at gate,
No mercy now — it’s far too late.



You think you’re puppet? You’re the gun,
Pulled before the morning sun.
Lies and venom fill the flood,
Burn the flock in boiling blood!



Modern ****’s a rotting mess,
Schemes collapsing, nothing less.
Cataclysm’s coming fast,
Tyrants fall, their reign won’t last.



Rise up! Rage loud! Break your chains!
Burn the lies, wash the stains!
This war’s on — no turning back,
Hell’s storm unleashed — attack, attack!



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



The Modern Ku Klux ****, the song


Yo!
The ****’s plan’s a joke, destroyed by CowID —
Sheep swallowed whole, but it ain’t enough, you see!
Time to light the fire, old tricks still alive,
Brand the herd, make ‘em crawl, make ‘em strive!

****’s outta moves — yeah, their plan’s a mess,
CowID took their scheme, turned it to stress.
Sheep all fallin’, shame and guilt all around,
Too **** little, the herd’s still bound.

Gotta stoke the war, get the flames to rise,
Old brand burns deep, in the sheep’s dumb eyes.
Stamp the mark, push ‘em under control,
Mindless zombies, lost all soul.

Modern KKK, rotten to the core!
Plan’s a wreck, but they scream for more!
Chaos coming, cataclysm’s near,
Sheep fight last battle, drowned in fear!

Tyranny’s crushing, choking all light,
Spirit’s grinding through endless night.
Fools bow down, deaf, blind to the pain,
The world’s a prison, a godless chain.

Involution’s poison, choking the breed,
No salvation ‘til the world’s freed.
Cataclysm’s mercy, breaking the cage,
Rise, few left, from madness and rage!

Modern KKK, rotten to the core!
Plan’s a wreck, but they scream for more!
Chaos coming, cataclysm’s near,
Sheep fight last battle, drowned in fear!

Sheep, wake up! Tear off your chains!
No more lies, no more pains!
Burn the darkness, claim your soul!
Fight the devil — take control!

Sun blazes hotter, world burns to ash!
Idiots line up, ready to crash!
No mercy given, no time to hide!
Fight or fall — do or die!

— The End —