walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

Her life has gone haywire
So she hits the sack of hay
Capital Hill tries to take advantage of this
So they try to revive their old conservative practices
With tools of maladjustment

The criminals give good ideas
To the goody-two- shoes looking to bust loose
Who create dark desire
For the demented ones with power

The Birthgiver slaves away
Until her heart gives out
The Embeder is on his hands and knees
Searching for sustenance
I, the final product is at the first national bank
Missing all who have died

The man from Illinois
Pleads not guilty
The judge looks in the eye
And says this mistake will cost him

His lawyer stands up
And puts his hand on the mans's shoulder
And tries to cheer him up
And says "it's only a life sentence, you'll be fine"

The smart mouth, while ridiculing the knife thrower
Sees the sword swallower  doing his act
And asks, "Did you pick that trick up from your ***** mother or **** father?"
The sword swallower regurgitates the saber and removes the smart mouth's tongue

Soon after, the smart mouth becomes the fat head
Who is now a priest
Who has no idea what he's talking about
But, neither do the people who follow him

Our six-star rank general calls an assault
And tells his soliders to do handstands
As he personally executes our last hope
To end this holy war we have nothing to do with

All the branches collectively agree
The public can never know their plans
They can only be spoon fed political promises
That aren't meant to be kept but to get votes and fund their federation

If you look up naive in the dictionary
You'll see the synonym ignorant
But in an atlas you find the address
Of some one who sees the school system more useful than an encyclopedia and library cards

I hope that the kids of tomorrow will be prepped and ready
For a world where it's not what you know but who you know
And where a degree is the equivalent to bathroom tissue  
But mutual friends are golden tickets

The musicians these days aren't artist but entertainers
Who write catchy tunes with an accessible message
While the social networks keep us connected
And up to date with everything they say we need to know

I dream of creating something simple
That can wake up the world from this trance
So it can stand up and make a change
And save the unborn and put the dying at ease

and when i'm overconfident,      i give away things that i shouldn't
i will miss them someday when i'm in bed-
the nails still growing
no mater how short they get cut. keep cutting
them shorter and shorter

looking down at it.
hallway-stairling 
bleating,
unsated.
perambulating this



/

.
Even after visits to apartments in self-named cities to see soccer stars swathed in orange tuxes,
Swerving off country roads in berating fits of tenderness,
Sputtering 'i love yous' in ditches and river canals;
Even after chais with Ye Ye Elders,
Messenger powwows with ancestors, and
holding the hands of comforting Harmonies, I

Never got it right.
.
It was a pathetic attempt to join a traveling circus; a passive means for an escape. Who were the Elephant Man, the sword swallower, or the contorting twins?
****** if I know.
Buddy had his hands wrapped around my neck in a nihilist noose so tight that it bubbled up amaurotic visions within my retina.
I couldn't see or feel a ******* thing.
Lost consciousness on his cold bathroom tiles, sprinkled with ***** confetti, **** all up on my cheek.idonthavetimeforthis!sleeponthecouch!
Watching 'Teach Yourself Circus!' videos at circus camp, I learned to juggle,
albeit groggy and disoriented. Only brightly coloured ***** at this point but I was up to seven tosses! While the freaks and geeks headed to carousels in the big top tent, I headed back to my dilapidated den leased on a broken Concord.
getoutbitchgetoutbitch
Back at camp ( hazy lazy crazy ) rivets affixed so I could only stare forward at the wall.
An e.ch-o-y sound in my
left  ear
voice reverberating down thru
t
h
e

w
e
l
l  
past
   t
   h
   e

   b  u  c
   k  e  t

I turned my head,
slo-mo tracers flashed in warp speed,
glacial stares softened into slushy moss.
A buttery soft cashmere reply,
                                      i'm sorry? what did you say?
                                                           ­  you seem nice...
.
Infrastructure collapsed.
    ****
Gone.
Crumbled in a heap of rubble.
Impaled by rebar and rebar erections.
Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.
Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.
in a black plastic sack
And....then....
Who's to say about the linear sequence of events, anyway?
.

Well the nickel beer and
Lemonade has
Already been served

And there is nothing else
That I can recognize
That claims that I am made of
Meat and bone and tissues

Who says I am man?
Who believes that I am
Not God and God alike?
And so than the hypocrites of mind
And man alike will shiver in their
Souls because the realization of their
Clear headed souls will show them
Four years of lost time and tight fitted black pants

The aim
Is beautiful

For it is full
And
FILLED WITH PURPOSE

The real beasts press
Against journalism
All trying to spread their
Highly detailed journalism with
The broken whiskey bottles of their era

In chemistry
Their is magic
And magic is merely
Man on man conflict
Where journalism presses their ink
Onto page
To produce a mere inch
Of their madness and chaos

Let lashing be the whip
Of Joyce's poetry
There once was wisdom
And Dionysus and arguments and nothing
That could spread because reality is neither
Nothing and nothing else because play
Has nothing to do with time

Because the disease of a character manning a mast
Of a man never existed
Plagues the soul of the creator
We are the agents of narcotics and of steel details
That lay to the promise
Of killing with pure reason

And everyone uses a character
For the vehicle for "quotations" is solely
To carry the story for the form of the road
That was repeated for the sake of the "story"

An lo' weighs the film
The man against himself
The U.S.A. taken over by the myth
Where myth
Could not even be defined
By our hollywood intellectuals

And than the death begins
Because youth
Was always so
Fleeting

And our age
Is always wrong
With America

For we think because we
Scream
The higher-ups are
Listening

It is laughable what
Television
Makes for
"Us"

Take the grenade and
Pinch the pin for there
Is only politics and politics is
Spelled out in day one, day two and
Day three and white make-up who
Claims to know nothing...

A regular Dylan carry.

Where are we than?

Who carries the torch?

I can't wait for the cops
To never
Carry me away for
Nothing I've always been
Doing.

And for entertainment and the
Greeks and the campaign trail
The hatred presses for the reasons
Why hate is actively productive for
Money when dealing with the flies
And maggots of Hollywood

Let the un-creative die and writhe and
Sigh with their million dollar wives
Where the rest lay with reality whose
Stones are as thick as the ones first laid

For the break is always near
And where there is nothing else
All you can rely on
Is only but the self

Where there is only night
There is no reason to scream
For the seasons have their turns
And the young have their yearns
But we, yes we...
We have reason for our season
To stretch and to breathe

I got a free hand but I got no broom
They tell me again, but I got no room
There's the check, and I start to swoon
But the taxi's here, and I'll be sleeping soon

A giant being
Where all good
Could be possible
And all finishings
Of the furnishings of

America

Have already been
Accomplished
And lay naked
To be judged
By the pressures of man
Who claim to say
They are the "speaking class"
Who speak

For all the rest

I've got no fingers
Left
And my ringers
Well their minds are on
Television's
Theft

I got no more money
I spent it all
On the freak

And the rest
I saved up
I plan on spending it on
The Geek

Take it from me
The reason to be
Is to keep on the
Breathe
And the scream

Each whisper
Shines through a plate
Of clear crystal screen
And when the happening
Let's go and closes

There will only be the
Sword swallower and
And the goat
That swears
It feels

Oh how time presses where magic
Once where and where we remember
When men were men and women were
The reason to write songs for the empty
Roads show nothing but the dim lit codes

I tell nothing of where I would like to be
For where I've been is nowhere I can see
I've lived enough to trust that life will never be O.K.
And that poet's have died in a life of disarray

Where than do I stand without you?
I pray that no worker hears what I do.
And the detective neither holds a clue
In the English grocery, the line is nill without que

And oh' hero
Who has lived past
The unsurpassable zero

Whose memory and fate
Is never too soon and never too late

Whose tambourine rings
And whose voice will always sing

A poet to die
Whose harmonica's cries
In an eternal sigh

And the laugh of naivety and truth
Where there once
Was possessed youth

The blue eyed son never
Learned the definite definition
Of a human race with a
Solution

There will always be
A Hard Rain

With ourselves
To love and never

To Frame

her name was Grace
daughter of the school's nurse
but in the sophomore locker room
after phys ed the boys called her Tubesock
because she was
known to take a foot or more into
her superhuman mouth from time to time
& my time was a quiet wednesday afternoon
when school let out early
for a faculty meeting & no one
was left in the administrative wing
except their children

"I want you to possess me"
she led me a trembling ape
into a medical supplies closet
full of gauze & the scent of latex
(the latter curiously adding girth to my ******* for years since)
i must've been dreaming or
i'd found the ideal mixture
of breakfast
vitamin capsules
& perfect stride during my daily phys ed mile
because good god she was down on her little red knees
incredible mouth already on **** through pants
unbuttoning them swiftly with one hand
actual tongue
actual girl
actual sweet lips
actual ****
which she then quickly released
from a too-small sports bra
during the hardening of the meat slug
slipping it smiling in/out of her mouth-soul
in my head i could only hear
synths
screaming saxophones
bass drums
maracas
permeating percussion rhythm
the closet a dark conch shell
resonating shifting vibrating
like the uncarpeted floor of a dance hall

proud, brave Tubesock taking my pink *****
in as far as it would go
radiating like a sun
teeth to tonsil
cheek to collarbone
with a deep southern-gospel choral hum
vertical as a sword-swallower
performing under a streetlamp horizon
my legs silent & stiff as she sang into it
glancing up at me at the base
making the smallest choking sound/lady like
fumes of her own ****** arousal blooming/flower like
into my nostrils from her scarlet tights
her left hand
holding my coin purse/doorknob like
gently pulling twisting kneading
her right hand
inside her own self
seeking a fire or some source of heat
in the drafty dark closet

when i came too quickly
(still a victory in my mind)
shooting my cannon smoke
into the midnight of her mouth
adrenalin shivering in my shoulders and throat
my hand locked around a lock
of her crimson hair
she unplugged herself & without wasting a drop
smiled back up at me
returned the unstiffened dagger to the
cold nest of my boxer briefs
but kept kneeling in the dark closet
split in half by the thin crack of light i created
as i emerged among the sound of seven hundred bells
to kiss the soul of revolution
a brand new too-tall man holding a lamb
bigger than god himself
standing on steel pistols for legs
shouting cursing beating my breast
under the sharp fluorescent light of a high school highway

Volatile molotov, no alcohol
Required. Simply wait,
Let the fumes build
Until combustion
Is imminent -

That acid
Ravenously climbing
The thin linens of your psyche

Pray,
Scream,
Cut if you must,
But do so
Silently

You mustn’t
Bleed upon their tapestry;
It has been bleached
Pure
And your moaning
Is an ammonia

Your love a glass
Best left
Un   -

Shattered

.

                    (If only I’d remembered
                       How to speak release)

The continuous **** of the vacuum cleaner's hose that ***** the filth from your floor.
Cleaning the dirt out of the eye of some cabinet followers.
Stabbing swallowing swallower's out of the nasty bile that smells of walking dead feet for miles.
At last the solemn, stolen watchman wonders the truth of the moment.
The collapse of the structure, the business, the final straw.
The word of the liars mean nothing at all.
All the while we wander about the outer borders of their eyes that ponder unsaid complaints.
**** everyone else.
We are one together.
At last we are one together, at last.

Why should they even try?
We can't be deformed or bent out of shape or form.
Lies they tell you! Lies about the air and work place that swallows.
Standing for hours will hurt your shoulders and boulders fall around when you're down.

You love the slightest bit of happiness that I love about you and happiness surrounds you
everyday completely today about your very lovely being.
I love you.
When we marry the sky we will be soul spirits and sighs of the lights above our eyes
complete the paintings that skies can give to us.

And at last,
We see that there is nothing that will last without us together.
We must be forever and we can be forever.

Let's do it!
Why don't we do it on the isle of the rasta.
Be happy forever.
Let me be yours forever.
Alright.

Parody of Eminem's classic "Stan". TW: Graphic ****** content*

The tea's not cold I'm wondering why I
got in your bed at all
my ***** brain clouds up my sense though
and I can't breed at all
and even if I could it'll all be gay
put your picture on my wall
it reminds me that it's all I have
it's all I have.

The tea's not cold I'm wondering why I
got in your bed at all
my ***** brain clouds up my sense though
and I can't breed at all
and even if I could it'll all be gay
put your picture on my wall
it reminds me that it's all I have
it's all I have.

Dear Jim, I wrote you but you still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my Grindr, and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two messages back in autumn, you must not a got 'em
there's probably a problem when I post often or somethin'
sometimes I wear dresses and get too sloppy when I'm joggin'
but anyways, **** me, up my ****, I'm a power otter
I'll probably get pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a daddy
if I have a daddy, guess what I'm a call him?
I'm a name him Ronnie
I read about your Uncle Bonnie too I'm sorry
I had a friend **** himself over some ***** who didn't want him
I know you probably hear this every day
but I'm the biggest man
I even got a bigger **** than Dan
I got a room full of your posters and pictures man
I like the **** you did with Rawkus too, his **** was fat
anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me from the back
then we'll chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
another man.

The tea's not cold I'm wondering why I
got in your bed at all
my ***** brain clouds up my sense though
and I can't breed at all
and even if I could it'll all be gay
put your picture on my Facebook wall
it reminds me that it's all I have
it's all I have.

Dear Jim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad, I just think it's ****** up you don't answer my demands
if you didn't want to talk to me outside your **** you didn't have to
but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew
that's my little brother man, he's only sixteen years old
we waited in the blistering cold for you
for four hours and you just said "no"
that's pretty ****** man, you'd like ******' his guy hole
he wants to **** just like you man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't mad though, I just don't like bein' lied to
remember when we met on Grindr, you said if I'd write you you'd write back
see I'm just like you I'm gay
I ****** a swallower named Caesar
then a guy named Tom and a guy named Peter
I can relate to how you're playing in a thong
so when I have a ****** day I drift away and put 'em on
'cause I don't got **** else so that **** helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest
sometimes I even **** myself to see how much it bleeds
it's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
see everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it
my boyfriend's jealous because I talk about you 24/7
but he doesn't know you like I know you Jim, no one does
he don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up, you gotta call me man
I'll be the biggest man you'll ever lose
sincerely yours, Stan
P.S. we should be together too.

The tea's not cold I'm wondering why I
got in your bed at all
my ***** brain clouds up my sense though
and I can't breed at all
and even if I could it'll all be gay
put your picture on my wall
it reminds me that it's all I have
it's all I have.

Dear Mister "I'm too good to call or write my mans"
this will be the last package I ever put in your ***
it's been six humps and still no *****, I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two pictures and I put my dresses on perfect
so this is my *** I'm sending you, I hope you spear it
I'm in the bar right now, I'm doing 90 guys to be gay
hey Jim, I drank a fifth of Bob's ***
you dare me to ride?
You know the song by Macklemore, "Same Love"?
About that guy who could've had *** with that other guy but didn't
then Macklemore saw it all and then had to show he found him?
That's kind of how this is, you could've rescued me from other guys
now it's too late, I'm on a thousand poppers now, I'm *****
and all I wanted was a lousy letter then your *****
I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off my Facebook wall
I love you Jim, we coulda been together, think about it
you ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
and when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you cream about it
I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breed without me
see Jim, shut up *****! I'm tryin' to talk!
Hey Jim, that's my boyfriend screamin' when I ****
but I didn't use his throat, I just tied him up, see I ain't like you
'cause if he suffocates he'll *** more and then he'll ride too
well, gotta go, it's almost in my **** now
oh ****, I forgot, how am I supposed to **** this **** out?

The tea's not cold I'm wondering why I
got in your bed at all
my ***** brain clouds up my sense though
and I can't breed at all
and even if I could it'll all be gay
put your picture on my wall
it reminds me that it's all I have
it's all I have.

Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been blue
you said you're pregnant now, how far along are you?
Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daddy that
and here's a **** pic for your brother
I made sure to show my mushroom cap
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the ****, I must've missed you
don't think I did that **** intentionally just to diss you
but what's this **** you said about you like to **** ***** too?
I say that **** just clownin' dog, come on, how ****** up is you?
You got some issues Stan, I think you need some **** rings
to help your **** from bouncing off the walls when you get in some
and what's this **** about us meant to be together?
That type of **** will make me not want us to meet each other
I really think you and your little brother need each other
or maybe you just need to treat him better
I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time
before you hurt yourself, I think that you'll be doin' just fine
if you relax a little, I'd be glad to be inside you but Stan
why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as my man
I just don't want you to do some crazy ****
I seen this one **** on the news a couple weeks ago that hardened my ****
some dude was ****** over and over like a *****
even his boyfriend was ******, and he was pregnant with his kid
and in their car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to
come to think about it, his name was, it was you
whoopsie daisy!

There is nothing left to eat
but their stomach still churn
and the emergency shut off switch
that will keep them from being hungry anymore
is forever at arms length.

They've watched themselves waste away
trying to feed their swollen bellies on clothes,
hair, shoes, skin, rocks and fingernails.
All slid down their dry throats
and retched their putrid stomachs.

Instead of huddled together for warmth,
they seperate themselves,
hoping the isolation will allow the cold to take them away,
to freeze their hearts and brains.
To allow them to not be cold and hungry, but feel nothing.

Grasping a wet stick in his gnarled hands
one of them tilts his head back
and shoves it into his throat
like a sword swallower on a budget,
and he gags and wretches and dry heaves.

He bends over on his knees
the stick still in his esophagus,
and around the wet, grey bark expells acid,
pure stomach acid onto the ground and burning his teeth.
His body shives but his eyes show triumph.

Maybe they once had genders
maybe they once had ages
but now they have lost their individualites
and remain stinking and pale as the hungry,
the ones not good enough for death.

Eyelidless eyes stare and match into another
pair of sore conjuctivitis infected *****
Blinking but incapable of the solace of sleep,
as they impatiently wait for something,
anything to happen.

You told me
you wanted
to taste
the substance
of my fiery-soul
& with parted lips,
you spoke godly-things.

When our eyes met
in rapture,
you captured me,
swallowed
all that I had
& becoming one,
I lost the feeling of sadness
& became whole
with you,
the swallower of my soul.

a Bachelor of Arts in BS
and a backer with a million dollars-
See, I had this idea of opening this new concept in restaurants.
I am calling it Rent-A-Burger.
See , we got this microchip that will wirelessly send the GPS coordinates
of the swallower to PayPal and debit their account on the first of every month. It tastes like a pickle so we save money there, also.
Then with that fortune I want to open what I call Title ****,
which will specialize in loans to strippers,

they have only to give me a demonstrational lap dance for me to verify their assets.
It tickles me how so rich I will be.

I got several more ideas of expanding my empire
and getting laid.

My life
has appeared unclothed in court, death-bone by death-bone witness,
and I was shamed at the verdict
and was given a cut penny
and the entrails of a cat.
But nevertheless I went on
to the invisible priests,
confessing, confessing
through the wire of hell
and they wet upon me in that phone booth.

Then I accosted winos,
and derelicts of the region,winning them over into a latrine of my details.
Yes.  It was a compulsion
but I denied it, called it fiction
and then I swallowed it like my fate.

Now,
in my middle age
I'm well aware
I keep making statues
of my acts, carving them with my sleep-----
or if it is not my life I depict
then somone's close enough to wear my nose ----
my nose, my patrician nose,
sniffing at me or following theirs down the street.

Yet not even five centuries ago this smelled queer,
confession, confessions
and you devil was thought to to push out their eyes
and all the eyes had seen (too much! too much!).
It was proof that you were a needle
to push into their pupils.
And the only cure for such confessions overheard
was to sit in a cold bath for six days,
a bath full of leeches, drawing out your blood
into which confessors had heated the devil in them,
inhabited them with their madness.

It was wise, the wise medical men said,
wise to cry Baa and be smiling into your mongoloid blood,
while you simply tended the sheep.
Or else to sew your lips shut
and not let a word or a deadstone out.

I too have my silence,
where I enter another room
and am not only blind,
but speech has flown out of me
and I call it dead
though the respiration be okay.
Perhaps  it is a sheep call?
I feel I must learn to speak the Baa
of the simple-minded, while my mind
dives into the multi-colored,
crowded voices,
cried for help, I've no ******* on me.
The transvestite whispering to me,
over and over, My legs are disappearing.
My mother, her voice like water,
saying "fish are cut out of me.'
My father,
his voice thrown into a cigar,
"A marble of blood rolls into my heart"
My great-aunt,
her voice,
thrown into a lost child at the freak's circus
"I am the flame swallower
but turn me over in bed
and I am the fat lady."

Yes! While my mind plats simple-minded,
plays dead-man in neon,
I must recall to say
Baa
to the black sheep that I am.

Baa.  Baa.  Baa

My bag smells like cigarettes
My body smells like smoke
My mouth is an ashtray
But I taste just like you probably do

I hate smoking
Hate the harsh acidic stale burnt flavor it
Leaves behind on my tongue, the
Match swallower's favorite meal

But every girl I ever kissed
Smelled like cigarettes and smoke and
Tasted like ashtrays
So I wonder if I should maybe just get used to it

Ominousness.
Looming spectre,
Illuminated by the cast
lights of fanaticism

Abstraction.
Looming absurdism,
distorted by the stained glass
of your personal apocalypse.

Consumption.
*******, ravage-ly appearing spectre.
From the mouth of serpents.
From the blood of a bat.

The world cries 'alas' in a throaty bellow,
The spectre dancing in rhythm to the melody of the chaos.
The melody of plague building the roads of conquest.

The many faced spectre drifts across the blue,
eyeing the masses.

This abstract ominous consumption of hope.
Swallower of light.

The spectre walks on water.


We are in the caste net.

There were so many words
Floating around
Inside my head
That eventually
I reached an overload
And they began
To leak out
Of all my orifices
Then swamp the room
Then to flood out
Through my open window
Onto the street below
Swallowing swords along the way
I screamed for HELP
But that word
Had already left the building
And been swallowed up
In the now
Gathering tsunami
As my thoughts
Gathered more momentum
Than before
Then something bizarre occurred
As if this wasn't already
Strange enough
As my words
Started breeding
And cross breeding
Black, and white
Night, and day
Up, and down
Before, and after
****, and elbow
As i began
To drown
Night, and day
Became fused
And confused
Together
And began
To melt away
Like molten wax
Leaving only
A starry twilight
And for one brief moment
The words stopped
And numbers
Oozed randomly out
4 7 8 3 2 9 5 6
Then just binary code
Of ones, and zero's
Which then changed
To noughts, and crosses
Then becoming anagrams
Finally
There was a big bang
And all my words
And numbers
Were shot into empty space
And never heard of
Or seen, again
As i was left
Lost
For words
And the gathering
Silence

by Jemia

Oh! Come
and walk_ Jill
loves to react
He's the Dr. Love
architect
Where is the
miracle
intellects
Jack has better
things
to spell let's not
thicken
Her miracle
saucy roue'

Packages in bulk
You could only
see the
shadow of his
smile
Through his talk
Oh! God let me see
some kind of miracle
Old news Monday suits
marine Army miracle
blue

News on the
*Chronicle*
We all have an alibi_?
No backup plan
If there is any miracle
Who hired this FBI
Miracle gummies
Computers don't
react well
Click away dummies

My miracle Pill
Just chill fireplace
What it cost you
Memory lane
Got a lost change of face
((Jack the miracle
swallower
Iced Frost)) follower
The book
Jack and Jill Monk pill
Getting Up !!! no hill?
Surrender to swallowing
pills more bills nothing
Too Gong **
Santa Claus roundabout

Or squared into hope for
miracles to be practiced
Losing you he has the will
Miracle cleansed shirt
A goldmine of dirt
Gusty--------
He nailed it, Rusty
The  fan is blowing_$$$

The time gets
explosive miracle man
His chin bombing reacts
Moves to show you
So ready charming
responsive
Like the miracle drug
Repeatedly rejects
How he ripped out
your barber carpet
Stop pulling so ruling

To be pushed
It was lightening
thrush

Bolt and the
miracle earth-rush
Changed our love

Aged wine lips
expensive
Lotto riches
come and
go to be fallen

But fate pays to
be risen

Extraordinary
((Ben Hur))

But Hollywood
rodeo drives me crazy
Plastic surgeons lazy
Traveling all Golfers
So in like Flinn

The supreme baby
where did our
money go if so?
So fit the fortunate
outcome
I reckoning?
Who needs the
miracle pill
All bills---$$$ over-charges
My miracle words to be
sprinkled deleted his
damages
To the very
top that's my
guarantee
Be happy and free_

to befriend death would seem wise
to welcome what will inevitably be.
Death is not so frightening, its even
difficult to know the actual moment,
the moment when someone finally
succumbs to deaths unrelenting,
all encompassing grip. Death,
the swallower of all histories, all
persons connect with ancestry. A
finality built into birth, part of the
deal. The part most mysterious.

A leader or a follower?
A sucker or a swallower?
(C) Livvi

sinker
of water’s
heart-

spotless thought
free of bird-

weakener
of hill’s
resolve-

kisser of my enemy-

tireless swallower,
impossible drink-

who don’t
I think
I am?

I, the ringmaster, start the show with my top hat on just right and by my side, the lion tamer.

Each day is a show, a facade to let the world know that we are in control and they are safe from the events to come.

Two little monkeys draw your attention to the center ring, one howling and screeching for attention while the other one looks more like a goblin than a monkey. The roll, tumble, and trapeze around the room they demand your attention. The little monkey goblin digs her way in an around the aerial silks as the silly little howler mocks you and laughs at you more forcefully than any clown before.

Then a sideshow freak bombards you with impressive feats that should not be possible for one so small. He the strong man lifts objects easily ten times heavier than him, all the while balancing them on his head. He the sword swallower confusing, disgusting, and still impressive. He the electic act, bitting into live wires and walking away unscathed.

Last to be seen! The final act! The most beautiful and magnificent! The king of the jungle! As the monkeys and the sideshow leave, the powerful and loquacious mane enters. Not much of a talker but when he roars, the sound reverberates through your whole body. Old scars, and soul filled eyes, tell of his conquest and likewise failures. As he and the lion tamer circle each other in the pit, they constantly play the game of Alpha. Albeit, at the end of the say, they are best friends that only want to enjoy a good cuddle.

Ringmaster, lion tamer, monkeys, freak, and the lion, a smattering of strange individuals relying on each other for comfort and safety. Each day a new beginning, a new show, a new chance.

A family.

My family.

world swallower.

I am not a monster. I am not a monster.
I search the city at night,
Cursed with a wicked obsession.
An ungodly addiction, an unwelcome affliction.
Where have my morals gone?
Or was I just born without them?
If I can't remember them, did they ever exist?
Is it my fault I'm a beast that isn't easily pleased?
To the swallower of anger, I am a masked marauder,
To those unknowing of fear, I am a plague they cannot bear.
One stare, so reckless, ready and content.
They vow to put me and my existence to an end.
I'm shuffled, I'm lost, they simply cannot understand.
Not a day passes where I contemplate if I'm nothing but a flaw.
God makes no mistakes, either inaccurate or nonexistent.
My desires, even bringing me to my knees,
So tired, yet so livid. What a large temptation,
The things we have in this world.
Drugs, money, power, fame, success.
Yet, not exactly fitting to the animal that I am.
The animal I've been, or the animal I've become?
No one cares, why even bother.
I'm a monster. I'm only a monster.

Raindrops on the toe tips of brown leather shoes

It smells like I should be inside, reading.

She comes in a jeep I know well
and when she and I collide in a hug,
the engine still running
I can see the old thing winking at me like it knows
she is the steadiest ******* this planet

A fellow sunshine swallower
she chews up the moon
and eats the mountains, too
eats up all the blackness in  my chest, too

Two schools states away
she hugs the same, always.

Some things, the soul cannot forget, no matter how the hard the heart practicality begs it to
things like black motor oil water
like freckles against light green eyes
like the last time I saw her, the last time there were raindrops
on the toes of my brown leather shoes
and she drove away in that jeep
and I got on a plane

There is no other pain like heartbreak.

Heartbreak is not falling out of love, it is not loneliness
It is the addition of somebody else’s story in your mouth, with no one to tell it to;
Silence in it's worst form.

But as she stands here, holding me, it is quiet
quiet relief

Imagine it:
Raindrops on the toe tips of brown leather shoes
the smell of a grey afternoon
an old jeep
and a girl



--But she is states away again, today--

Quitting the short-lived fun—swallower of lifetimes
Oh strict fidelity, deprived for stability
This dull party quitter
Bores the many for longer happy
This weary dull builder, built up!

On the edge
looking over
into the chasm of death.

The swallower
the insatiable
the chomper of dreams

- the disintegration of all this
flesh.

.

We walked up and down the driveway

Each pace, a page turn
Bringing distance : One dog-eared creasing, by one

Sharp stones skittering bird-like and brittle

We speak
My un-doctored photos

Hanging beside

We swing, as juniper
We shuffle

Caught in a barking fit
As the trucks roll by, rumbling up dog feelings.

Hands clasped together in mutual observation

As the moon swallower slithers legless    in its embryonic mess

Avidly following the sword swallower
and still wondering where it goes.

I used to swallow my words
but I haven't done that in ages,

And it's not that I'm always right
more often than not
I've got it wrong.

When I was younger
I charmed a snake charmer
she
was a bit older,

the snake only wised up when it
curled up in her bed for the night
and found me coiled around ner.

stories for rainy days in Baghdad.

I’m fraying at the edge of your canines
Attentive on March’s hairline.
There are beetles on the ceiling
They are roaming around searching for you
And they find nothing but each other
There's never any middle ground.
Winking behind your ear, tilting
Opening wide so I can taste the light
Inside your throat.
An appetite for rhetoric can hardly be quelled.
Salt-soft and sunbeams
Can the sea know your flesh like I?
Hammered to your nail bed I’m drowning
With every blink
And I’m always swimming in it,
The heat death of the universe.
In my mind you’re sun drying clothes in a meadow
You’re laughing and it drips over the ink like
Wet sunlight.
The more I know about you the less I can breathe.
The beetles, they never meet,
Teething, scuttling, catching in the plaster.
Dust in the air, a yellow film
Settles on your dictionary bones:
You word swallower.
I am speechless
You are speech. A dreamcatcher
Weaves your mind in magnolia cat’s cradle.
The alternate molar grazes on the inside of my psyche
As you play in the rightmost key
Almost inaudible until I press my ear into the hollow
Of your piano.
Where did the beetles come from?
It’s far too cold, the mulch of humanity.
They hang around here like breath under a microscope
Like you in my soul.

"The Highest Quality"

The quality of assholery
Has reached the highest peak.
The quirks that once were savories
Are gone, as souls grow weak.

Boring freaks in "perfect" lands,
Tighter now, they’re bound.
Easier—those out-of-hand,
They walk the lighter ground.

Go seek the quirks, the oddities—
There you’ll find the light.
******* in their lies and greed,
That’s where the source of blight.



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



"Ding-****"

Ding-****, ding-****, I’m the fool who talks,
Here to convert you to "faith" today.
You’re a slave—one law in those walks,
To crush with orders, led astray.

Just fools to smite. To comfort, lie,
With rotten heresy to heal.
And herd them off to die.
If you "believe," your mind's unreal.

You must not "believe," you must KNOW.
Self-reflection brings the light,
That’s what will help you truly grow—
For beasts will lie in faith’s dark night.

Their lies will swell, their numbers grow,
In doctrines that enslave the mind.
Here, all religions serve the foe,
And evil chains all souls confined.

In childhood’s grip, they lock you tight.
The fool seeks others just to bind.
Ding-****, ding-****—The evil’s flight:
Don’t open doors to what you find!





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



A Poem for Aging Children, or Overton's Windows

Mama washed the frame—
The frame by the window,
Of Overton's name.
A drama in the shadow.

Overton’s windows—
It’s all that we see!
Above the law’s lows—
Devour the filth, you’ll be free!

Soon cannibalism
Through windows will spread.
The windows, the prism,
By which the FOE’s led.



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



Fools, Beasts, Lies

Fools, beasts, and lies—
Hell’s infernal glow.
Forgetfulness, it rise,
And Evil’s attacks grow bold.
All around, it’s ROT AND WOE!



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



The Family Cell

A petty world — their rows, their "peace,"
Obsessed with every small caprice.
This satyr-swarm just drains away
Their strength in quarrels day by day,

In petty fuss, in endless chatter —
No room for battles that would matter:
Like spotting foes from friends — no use —
They’re trapped in cheap and ****** views.

A cell? A cage! And in this pit,
The spiders squabble, snarl, and spit.
And what of children born inside?
Will they escape it? Will they hide

From petty griefs, from mental chains —
And taste the world beyond their pains?
But no — their childhood, sharp as thorn,
Will fester, rot, and leave them torn.

This tiny world of family ties
Will be the fool’s last, proud disguise.
No freedom in this world shall rise —
The family's a slave’s device.





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



Sobered by Soul’s Pain

If soul’s sharp pain has made you see,
You still can find a path, be free —
If Mind stands strong against the blight,
The rot, the madness, and the night.

No pain? Then corpse you are, my friend —
Join zombies on their mindless end.
So many flocks of brainless sheep,
Though drooling idiots run deep.

That dreary path — it leads ahead
Into a worldwide camp for dead.
Already now the madhouse moans,
Yet idiots march like faithful drones,

Still tame today, they trudge along,
Led by the media’s cursed song.
They do not know they'll be erased,
They're meat already — souls displaced.

They bow to beasts — that’s clear to see:
CowID showed it openly.
In this madhouse the minds are crushed —
In nearly all — that is the hush.



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



The Swamp of Stupidity

The swamp of folly — thick and vile,
The clutch of lies — a constant guile,
The stubborn, cold persistence of
Betrayal masked as law and love.

Their motto: "Serve the dark, obey!"
But that dark’s painted bright and gay.
To be yourself — insane, they say,
In this world turned the twisted way.

A madhouse — simple, straight, and grim,
Still in its early, evil spin,
Yet even now, beneath its crust,
It grows — a bloom of total Lust.





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



An Army of the People?

An army of the people? Lies.
It never lived, it never tries.
The beasts are in complete command —
And fools rush in to lend a hand.

The simpletons — so quick to trust,
Deceived by lies, by smoke, by dust.
They turn on neighbors, proud and loud —
For slaughterhouses, cheering crowds!



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



People’s Army? Don’t Make Me Laugh.

An army of the people? — Joke!
The filth’s in charge; the herd's provoked.
The crawling beasts give every cue —
And brainless cattle stomp right through.

The idiots — so proud, so dense —
Fall for the cheapest lies and scents.
They butcher neighbors without shame —
For slaughterhouses — in their name!



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



No People’s Army — Just a Herd,
Obeying beasts without a word.
They march to slaughter, loud and proud —
Their brains already in the ground.



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



The Broken Record

Goebbels — plebbels: same old song,
Played again — but now a farce gone wrong.
Lie and lie, and lie once more,
Lure the cattle with a ****** door,

Promise "Eden" through brute force,
While herding them to Hell, of course.
You shear the sheep, you roast their meat —
Just keep their minds in mad defeat.

Hold them raving through the years —
Their downfall echoes through the gears.
To ***** it up — their only art;
The dream of change? A wishful ****.



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



Same lies, same farce, the cattle cheer,
To Hell they march, year after year.
Their dream of change is just a scream —
A rotting, broken, dying dream.



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



"Money in Sacks,
Bags Under Eyes"

Money in sacks,
Bags under eyes —
Drink, and you're wrecked,
Betrayed by lies.

Better to fight —
Victory’s sober!
Aim, hit, and strike —
No drunken cover.



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



Drink and you're doomed —
Fight and you rise.
Victory’s clear —
No *****, no lies!



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



Hunchbacked Freaks

The idiots stack their lies high —
A camel’s ****’s a lighter sight.
The media, with fervent cry,
Whip up fear, lead to the night.

Two humps — they’re lies and fears combined,
The final straw they coddle still,
To bring about the fall, designed,
In filthy, wicked, hateful skill.

The spine will crack, the path grows clear,
A slaughterhouse, it’s drawing near.
Yet in this world of twisted lies,
They’ll call it health, with blinded eyes.



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



Lies and fear, they make their ****,
Their final blow, a bitter lump.
The path leads down to slaughter’s gate —
But they’ll call it "health" — a twisted fate.



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



Twisted and Fallen

Twisted, sunk down deep below,
They babble of a place they know —
A paradise, they claim, they see,
In a world where Evil’s free.

Good is Evil, so they say,
Insanity rules every day.
With lies, they push the fools around,
Sick of it all, they drown in sound.



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



Twisted lies, they call it "Good,"
Insanity in every word.
Sick of the lies, the twisted schemes —
They live in nightmares, shattered dreams.



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



All the Fools Grind Their Power

All the fools grind down their might,
Too much of this foul, crawling blight.
And you live, half-hearted, weak,
Caught in a tightening noose, unique.

They surround, they break you down —
Like a strangling world, it drowns.
Generations fail and flop —
As long as there’s "free cheese" on top.





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



Fools grind down their every might,
Strangled by the endless fight.
Generations lost in vain,
Chasing cheese, they’re bound in chains.



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



Mad Slaves

"White and fluffy" —
Here, a mad slave.
In this foggy world,
The mind’s a fading wave:

Black’s called white, and white is gone,
The body thick, but mind’s withdrawn.
Though flesh is full, the brain’s a mess —
Just twisted lies in pure distress.



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



"White’s called black," they twist and break,
The mind’s a fool, the body fake.
In madness lost, they serve the lie —
With empty hearts, they live and die.



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



Disgust

Disgusted. The shame can't be washed away,
And slavery deepens with each passing day.
Desires in FILTH? Only Diogenes
Won’t rot into ******, pathetic disease.

Love? Friendship? In SLAVERY? Hollow and dead.
A mad little serf has no heart, only dread.
What's honored? Just nothing — a mindless decay:
Get drunk, get dumb, feed your gut — fade away.

No life here — just rot, in a shameful disguise:
All "growth" is a fraud, a procession of lies.
Here Spirit is slaughtered, and Reason is banned —
Just lunatic screeching across this dead land.

And only a few bear the Light, bear the Truth —
But vanish in nightmares of treachery's tooth,
Of fake manufactured catastrophes' art,
Their cross left behind… for a fool with no heart.



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



Rotland

This isn't life — it's rotting shame,
Where spirit's crushed and mind's to blame.
You kneel, you drool, you feed — then die.
While truth is nailed and left to lie.



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



The Judas School

Trust is now change in a traitor’s hand —
They’ll bleed you dry, and they’ll call it fair play.
What’s left of your heart? Just pulp or sand,
When ruin comes swift — the betrayal way.

They’ll rat you out, sell you cheap for a thrill —
While trust keeps dreaming of wonders and grace.
Here “friends” are Judases, grinning with skill,
And “wise old advisors” — the snitch in your face.

"High feelings"? A trap. You’ll be played and abused.
It’s all cold math — the rest is a lie.
And soon, even decent ones turn and get used —
For pennies, they sell you and wave you goodbye.

The world is a Judas school — plain to behold.
A fake little virus made clear who obeys:
The freaks in white coats, the regimes bought and sold —
Unleashed their fascism in orchestrated waves.

Now Judas High marches toward the camps —
This trust, this belief — a fatal disease.
Trust is a sin: on their banner of tramps,
A red cross is stabbed through the heart with ease.



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



Judas Class

They preach with a smile, then stab from behind —
Trust is the noose for the spiritually blind.
The cross on their flag? Not of mercy or grace —
It’s driven through hearts with a butcher’s embrace.



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



The Futility of a Poet

A poet's despair — a cry in the sand,
Unheard in the void of a lifeless land.
A life full of strain, of torment and pain,
With horror that freezes the blood in your vein.

Poets are skinless — they’re born that way,
And skinless, experience won’t come or stay.
But with no experience, what can you give?
Your soul stays silent — too raw to outlive.

To write is to walk the long road alone,
Or scatter your sparks till your fire is gone.
The dangers are many — you may go blind,
Write nonsense and think it’s the work of the mind.

No fame will come if your verse has fire —
This soulless world doesn’t care or admire.
Your poems may serve just to blow off some steam,
But steam chokes the soul, kills the passionate dream.

Useless, and fruitless, and hopeless, and grim —
This path has no joy, just sorrow and whim.
But if you write true to your soul’s wild storm,
You’ll find, midst the horror, one refuge — still warm.



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



Skinless

A poet is skinless — he bleeds when he speaks.
The world wants silence. And silence it seeks.



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



The Punishing Sword and the Red Banner

The punishing sword, without red flags to wave,
No chants of young zealots, no slogans to save,
No fiery madness, no cult to ignite —
Alone, it’s a blade with no reason to fight.

Brute force alone won’t make devils the kings —
But wash out the brains of the dull and the weak,
And soon they'll be wielding their own brutal things,
Whipping themselves while they slobber and shriek.

They’ll beat the dissenters, the doubters, the sane,
Who flinch at the nightmare and echo no cheer.
Fascism's power is not in the pain —
It thrives when the coward becomes volunteer.

Then crawling and snitching become the new norm,
And bootlickers bask while the others are crushed.
So better become a “Pioneer” in form —
The helpful little creep will leave you untouched.

The sword has sunk deep in the people’s mind —
It maims every thought, kills the soul from within.
The goal of the darkness is always aligned:
To torture the spirit — by poisoning reason.





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



Obedience

They don’t need chains — just rot your brain,
And you’ll swing the whip, then beg for pain.



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



Of Greed and Betrayal

Writer D.H. Lawrence once cried:
“Shut all the schools — let ignorance reign,
Or lies and deceit will soon override,
And man will turn beast, bred cunning and vain.”

Today, it’s the doctor — a fraud in a coat,
A butcher of souls in a clinic of fear.
The world is a camp, where the dumb gladly vote
To follow the whip with a patriot's cheer.

"Knowledge" now reeks of deception and noise,
Truth has been banished — no facts, no defense.
Just loud DECLARATIONS, a choir of toys,
And traitors who sell us for trifling pence.

They hoard from the future — these ******* in silk.
Their grandchildren inherit despair.
Blood-soaked coins, Judas-bought milk —
And the end for them too... will be there.

Such is the schooling they proudly provide —
A factory breeding the coward, the snake.
To Spirit — it's torment. To Thought — it's a tide
Of shame for the Real, of Reason’s heartbreak.



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



Blood Coins

They steal from the children, they trade in the dead —
With lies in their books and a whip at your head.
"Education" breeds Judas and trains him to preach.
What soul could survive what these traitors teach?



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



Decadence in Hell

A poet’s true work is to strip every nerve,
Then strum them like strings, with no shame, no reserve.
You’ll rot into silence — unless you're the "first"?
Then you’re just a sellout, degenerate, cursed.

Ignore all the critics, the forms, and the rules —
Write what your nerves scream, not what pleases fools.
If nerves have decayed, if they've snapped or gone slack —
Then die where you lie. Don’t bother come back.

You’re always below — just a few ever burn
With fire so fierce that their minds do not turn.
They vanish like phoenixes, blazing then gone —
Replaced by the stupid who stumble along.

Now global fascism won’t flinch at your kiss —
No “sweet little poems” will soften this abyss.
So blast through the filth with the full force of flame —
Let cowards in Hell choke on truth and on shame.

When nerves are still tight, then the Heights can be heard —
Their resonance comes like a soul-shaking word.
Not all here have rotted or drowned in pretense —
Some fight with raw verse against dead decadence.





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



Hellfire Verse

Your nerves are your weapon — don’t dare let them die.
The Heights only speak when you burn, not comply.
This world is a grave, and its poets are few —
So scream with your blood, or the rot becomes you.



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



Sheep, Jackals, and Wolves

There were wolves — ask Hesse or Vysotsky’s song.
Now traitors in jackal-skin scurry along.
No heroes today — too “noble” a word;
Look up for a second — you’re gone, unheard.

In the jackal-world, there’s a different law:
Sniff for the rot, keep your snout in the straw.
Honor? A coupon. Just shred it for gain —
That’s the jackal’s life: all teeth, no brain.

It pays to be filthy — no one will chase
The jackal who kills with a cleaner’s face.
He hunts like a clerk, all quiet and neat —
Another day’s slaughter, another spreadsheet.

Now all the sheep are herded to **** zones.
Why waste the thrill? Mass death sets the tone.
The sheep stay calm — “It’s treatment,” they bleat,
While jackals howl law through the zombified beat.

Their wild new order shrieks from the screen —
Agree, or you’re mutton, minced and clean.
Doubt is forbidden in pens that stink —
A sheep with questions is meat in a blink.



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



Jackal Order

The jackals write laws with a blood-slick pen —
And sheep call it "care" as they’re herded again.
Look up? You're devoured. Ask nothing, stay small.
This isn’t a farm — it’s a slaughterhouse stall.



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



Grayness

Weakness and dullness,
Greed and deceit,
Laziness, fear, worthlessness,
With sadism’s soft beat.

False “human kindness,”
The fake, polished “care,”
Empathy's stinginess,
Folly everywhere.

Foolishness reigns,
Intellect is strange,
Primitiveness spreads —
Evil in every range.

Endlessness of malice,
Unyielding decay,
Only filth survives,
No dignity in the fray.

Only ******* matter,
Idiots swagger with pride,
Lies build up like towers,
Genocide is wide.

In prison they settle,
The norm is to bow,
Slaves to their poison,
The rot fills them now.

Boldness is nothing,
Only beasts and their lies,
Subtlety vanishes,
Truth buried in disguise.

What remains is the stench,
What ends is the mind —
The filth will be scorched,
But never the blind.



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



The Gray Curse

They live in the filth, in the lies that they weave,
Only fools rise, and the honest deceive.
The weak stand unbroken, their venom is clear —
But truth will be scorched, and they’ll disappear.



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



The Pendulum's Law

Are you tired, weighed down?
What nonsense! Strength will come,
Once you learn the law —
The “pendulum.” With it,
Your potential will grow,
When you build YOUR world,
Where creativity is the law,
And everything else is smoke —
You can't build a home on that.

You were oppressed by the world,
But didn’t become a fool.
You understood — run from the trap,
For in Bedlam, fools will shackle you,
Imposing the laws of Darkness,
In that stench, you’ll suffocate.

Only creative forces
Will rise again, sweetly.
Let what is of the Spirit,
And sanctified by the mind, be cherished.
Let it be small, the rest —
A heap of miserable waste.

Reject the lies and rumors,
Create, fight, laugh,
While on that filth, flies
Dance upon the manure.

But this dance is Vita’s:
Soul and mind are crushed,
And Light is almost gone.
Only creativity is Light,
In this world of evil, condemned.
The only advice —
CREATE! That is the answer to Evil…





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



Pendulum’s Call

When you're tired, don’t be fooled —
The pendulum swings, your power renewed.
In the world of lies, create your own light,
That’s how you fight Darkness, with all your might.



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



The Doppelgänger Puylo and the Kremlin

They blew up houses in Volgodonsk, Buynaksk—
That filthy Puylo, bringing power to the beast.
It spread like ink, a blot in the dark—
A doppelgänger leading the sheep on their feast.

He drives them to slaughter with his lying tales—
Worse than ******, the harm he has done.
The Kremlin, the filth, at fascism’s rails,
Follows orders from the world’s evil sun.

He rules as a tyrant, a brutal dictator—
Gives out decrees, and the Kremlin, they strain,
While the liar-provocateur broadcasts, later,
Spitting poison, turning truth to disdain.

Cunning lies eat away at the mind and soul—
The sheep grow duller with every breath.
And the zombobox, cold and remote,
Is either a clinic or propaganda of death.

The forecasts are grim, the bottom has cracked—
Only collapse and decay lie ahead.
If they endure this Kremlin filth intact—
Then Satan himself will be pleased with the spread.



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



The Kremlin’s Rot

Bombs explode, the lies run deep,
The Kremlin leads the sheep to sleep.
The forecast is ruin, decay, and dread —
Satan smiles, as truth lies dead.



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



The Menagerie

A swindler, spouting “truths” he never means —
A politician, bureaucrat, judge, or prosecutor.
The clutches of **** tighten like a vice,
In a world of disgrace, a universal ruin.

Two-thirds of all "seats" are filled by shameful beasts,
Walking filth, fascist trash, traitors in disguise.
And the "sweet" songs they sing are fewer now,
Turning bitter like acid, truth's demise.

The global lie has spread, and all the creatures
Serve the common master, everywhere.
Fake countries in their drunken stupor,
Tied by lies that hold the fools in despair.

They chain the masses tighter than before,
And the chief vassal is the propagandist's hand.
Two-thirds of the people, dumbed down and torn,
Have lost their minds; the damage is grand.

****, traitors, and the vile have ravaged it all,
The world has become a MENAGERIE — a sad, grim end.
Spiritual bonds between men now fall,
Satanism is the new faith — "God's dead."





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



The Beastly World

**** rule the world, their lies take the throne,
Two-thirds of the fools are now lost and alone.
The world is a menagerie, where truth is dead,
Satan now reigns, and the faithful have fled.



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



Blindness and Deafness

A bright plasmoid flashed high in the sky,
Gaze upon it — slowly it fades away.
If you’ve incarnated as a fool, you’ll deny,
“It’s all just stories,” you’ll say... thus blind and deaf.

To Pure Spirituality and the “subtle realm”…
A monster of blood and flesh — you’ve become, bound forever.
The Lyre’s a donkey’s burden, nothing to overwhelm,
And the vile creatures — as lords they now endeavor.

Memes are invented, or "funny jokes" —
Meant to mock such observations, to grind.
The pseudo-scientist, with endless tricks, provokes,
Spewing nonsense to **** all truths we find.

To knowledge concealed, all motives are dead —
Like a fool repeating “scientific” trash,
Lies intertwine, woven with lies in thread,
While the "school" is occupied by the darkness’ lash.

"Science" and "school" are now mere superstition —
It’s time to light the fires, the pyres rise.
Only Spirit and the Hidden will bring us equilibrium,
In Real Knowledge — it can’t be destroyed, no matter the lies!



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



Darkness and Lies

In science and school, dark fools remain,
Their lies are a mask, their wisdom is vain.
Only Spirit and Truth will restore balance —
Real Knowledge cannot be crushed by the fools' malice.





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



Betrayal

Betrayal has reached its utmost height,
Turning this world into pure absurdity.
You cannot be whole, a mind full of light,
In a world so corrupt, where Mammon is deity.

The traitors destroy their children’s minds,
Infecting them with poison so deep.
Then with shameless lies, they try to bind—
A father’s not a man, but a worm for the heap.

When everything is sold, meaning’s gone,
Only children left to trade and barter.
The circle tightens, no way to run,
The noose of betrayal is getting sharper.

They feed them garbage from an early age,
Like Mengele’s filth, a puppy at best.
Betrayal is inherited, passed on in rage,
It’s Groundhog Day — but with horns on the chest.

These traitors, their lands stripped bare,
Cities like jungles — chaos, despair.
But all those souls, the Universe will weigh,
And find them zero — then the vermin’s last day.



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



Betrayal's Grip

Betrayal has poisoned the world we hold,
Turning bright minds to dust, to be sold.
But in the end, the Universe will decide,
And the traitors will have nowhere to hide.





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



The Fire of Awareness

Let the Fire of Awareness engulf all Hell,
Forget all you knew — lies are spread far and wide.
At first, you won’t like it, as I can tell,
You’ll see only deformities, nothing to hide.

An inverted world, where the Spirit’s true spark
Is but a flicker, not the consuming Light.
Here in this Hell, the darkness leaves no mark—
For all are fed the madness, day and night.

This madness, this material void we call life,
Where you’re just a hamster, spinning in place.
A fog of forgetfulness, causing strife,
Guiding the world along the same disgrace.

It leads to the Concentration Camp of New Times,
Where fascism reigns, merciless and cold.
The "Red Cross" for fascism is their paradigm,
They’ll crucify all — then Hell’s grip will hold.

So center yourself in Spirit, take the road
Of discovery, where intuition is king.
Feel the Power within, let it explode—
For anything else leads to the abyss, to suffering.





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



The Fire of Awareness, short version

Let Awareness' fire burn through all the lies,
See the world twisted through false, blinded eyes.
But center your Spirit, and you’ll find the way—
For only with truth can you rise from the fray.



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



No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — but by lies, a weapon’s formed,
No limits here — it’s all to keep you misinformed.
Destruction, shame, genocide, decay,
The remnants of freedom, everywhere they slay.

No analogues! — a double-faced dictator,
The artificial pain, a blatant truth’s erasure.
A traitor official, and a cop-provoker,
Propagandists reign there — the analogues are no more.

Even Goebbels would serve coffee to their needs,
In this ultra-poor land, "values" they feed,
Like swine in their filth, soon they'll need no bread,
For they’ll feast on a super-fiend, instead.

They now call themselves demons —
The tribe of Judas, astral burps and lies.
Betrayers have become the new Wehrmacht legions,
And in this army, ******* multiply.

No analogues in human history —
Such a fall has never been.
Many have fallen, but this absurdity
Was never before something to be seen.





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



No Analogues!

"No analogues!" — lies form the weapon of choice,
Destruction and shame, they’ve stolen our voice.
No past can compare to this monstrous decay —
This fall of mankind, there's no words to say.



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



Worldview

Worldview’s the foundation, the core of the mind,
How you perceive things, that’s what you will find.
In a mind that's imprisoned, all chains and all blocks,
Few are the thinkers, the rest are just ox.

When the psyche’s in line with the animal’s tread,
The yoke’s always ready, the herd’s being led.
Not a world, but a zoo, with the stench of decay,
For the "vegetable" type, it’s a suffering day.

Fake drugs, fake viruses, new wars in the making —
They herd the flocks like before, for the taking.
The herds, as a whole, deserve this fate they abide,
For the "truth" they all know is the TV’s loud tide.

Shift your focus — you’re a Spiritual Being,
Out of the herd, though the chances are fleeting.
It’s hard to escape — the flock’s clouds are thick,
The sheep march to slaughter, the Mist’s cruel grip.

The herds are but food, always that has been,
This slave world’s a cage — it’s time to burn it again.
How vile, how disgraceful, how corrupt the swine —
For the spiritual ones, the herds cannot align.



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



Worldview, short version

Worldview is the key, how you see is your fate,
In a mind full of chains, there’s nothing to create.
When the herd’s all that’s left, the world’s just decay —
For the spiritual ones, the herds are in dismay.



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



Eternity and Infinity

Give the slaves half a liter, a heap of lies,
That the Führer spits out every day in disguise,
Also some food, and eternal mirages —
Immortality for slaves! No need to analyze.

Here everything's different, that's why fascism thrives,
It rules through fear, to frighten the herds of lives,
Then push a new foolishness, dressed as salvation,
But beyond that — no more, no more hesitation!

The record's been played, but it’s ETERNAL still!
Madness grows stronger — now vinyl, it’s real.
And the whole little world has sunk to the floor,
Where the INFINITY of their stupidity soars.





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



Eternity and Infinity, short version

Serve the slaves lies, and food for their pains,
Fascism's still reigning, through fear it remains.
The world’s fallen deep, where fools hold the reign,
And their stupidity's endless, in infinite chains.



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



The Solution to the World's Problems by Apocalypse

Tumbling through the void,
Just explore, don’t aim too high,
Let your soul, in simple joy,
Reach for ties with the Most High.

A satanic world, yet God
Is unspeakably far away.
Building in evil, flawed,
You multiply NOTHING in your way.

A Cataclysm will save us,
It comes from far afar,
It’ll destroy the fascism,
Though the burden’s heavy and bizarre.

To see the Evil and not change
A thing within this place,
The hammer will hit, sharp and strange,
And Death will solve it all, with grace.





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



The Apocalypse Solves All

The world is twisted, far from light,
Fascism will fall in Cataclysm’s fight.
Evil seen, but change too slow,
Death’s the answer — that’s the final blow.



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



Satan

The receiver, that filth, it has in its grasp,
And an army of vermin, who’ve betrayed it all.
No need for floggings, execution’s past,
For shame, fear, and whining no longer call.

When once all was done — on the conveyor,
Far more nourishing, souls to collect,
No need to gather — fools bring them to bear,
For universal treachery, lies in the air,
And beyond money, no one’s direct.

Only a few fight against the Evil,
They’re called fools, and their efforts ignored,
Unable to harm it, yet still so medieval,
The horned goat has made everything deplored.

But a twist of fate, a cataclysm near,
It will sweep this shameful Hell away.
The fools will vanish, along with their fear,
And those FEW will find salvation that day.



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



Satan’s Fall

The filth holds the receiver, lies all around,
Few fight against Evil, their efforts unsound.
The fools will vanish, their reign soon to end,
Only the Few will salvation transcend.



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



Harvest Time of Darkness

The world’s a brew of lies and fear,
And fear breeds deeper with each sneer.
You stand already on the block
If you march with that rotting flock,

The herd they flatter as "the crowd."
Best walk alone, away, unbowed:
If clothes define you at first glance,
The jailhouse marks your last advance.

Stay wise, stay honest — flee the pack,
The world’s a madman’s hunting track,
Where scoundrels ride on slaves below,
Yet slaves themselves — too blind to know.

Now is the Harvest Time of Night:
The mind in chains, the spirit slight.



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



Pseudo-Science, or The Black Letter as Black Mark

The blackened letter — the blackened brand:
Each line is dripping with deceit.
Their rotting “science” stinks on hand —
It rides the fool in the backseat.

See global warming: humans "fume,"
While cows let loose without a care.
And clueless people just assume
Whatever CRAP the LIAR dares.

There’s proof galore — go take a look:
Their stitched-up lies are crude and loud.
Enough! We’ve read their crooked book —
We’re not their sheep. We bite. We’re proud.



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



Search Instinct

The search for truth — that burning trait —
Is what makes humans truly live.
While fear and sloth and bowing fate
Are all the herd can ever give.

To swallow lies without a blink
Is cattle’s mark — a soulless mess.
When all is madness, stop and think:
To feel the truth is to progress.

Even rats inside a maze
Drop their food and flee the night.
Is it instinct? Is it craze?
Or madness sparked by lack of light?

Madness reigns — it chokes, it stinks.
Yet rats outmatch us, inch for inch:
They dare to doubt — while man just sinks,
Drowned in a sea of coward’s cringe.

Forget the herd, forget their script —
Their ready answers all are lies.
Seek your own — through ash and crypt —
Or be a rat... who never tries.



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



The Ego Cycle and Paranoia

The ego’s loop, in fear entangled,
Distorts perception to the core —
The mind gets lost, confused, and mangled
By all the filth and inner war.

This loop of fear and false suspicion
Is perfect fuel for any scheme:
Scare them first — then with precision
You plant whatever in their dream.

To fools, all nonsense becomes law —
"Approved by experts," fed like meat.
The ego walks toward the flaw,
And **** just watch, enjoy, repeat.

The ones who rule this global ward —
They know the script. It’s not obscure.
The ego's cancer marches hard,
And every ***** feels secure.

So now he swallows every sin,
Mistakes the poison for delight.
His soul's gone soft. He won’t begin
To bite — his mask fits just right.



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



When Time Speeds Up

When days fly by and blur away,
Something’s wrong beneath the skin.
The surface smiles, but deep in gray —
Your soul’s in chaos, lost within.

When you burn bright — time stretches wide,
Each moment vast, intense, alive.
But if you’ve shrunk and lost your stride,
Then you’re too numb to even strive.

Time’s not "knowledge" — that’s a fake:
That “truth” is poisoned, full of lies.
They chain your mind until it breaks —
Those horned “lords” in priestly guise.

They’ve built this cage, this blur, this race,
Where time speeds up — a cursed delight.
The rats all hide in cozy space,
And wait for demons to feed them right.

The Spirit lives beyond all time,
But time’s a noose they’ve wrapped around —
By spawn of Hell who make this slime,
These worms who rot the holy ground.



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



Weapons of Mass Deception

Lies and traps, and staged offense —
That's the main game in this place.
Shake the idiots, make them tense —
And they’ll swallow every case.

Two waves fill the poisoned air:
Fear and falsehood, broadcast loud.
All the rest’s just cheap despair,
While Hell reigns above the crowd.

Every system, every name
Rests on ****** that sell their voice.
They lie, they hype, they fan the flame —
If we don’t shake, they cut our choice.

Blow a tower skyward, then
Blame it on some foreign trace.
Tweak the laws, deceive again —
Freedom wiped without a trace.

Too much horror to contain
In one poem, brief and tight.
If you trust these fiends — you’re insane.
You're a dumb, pathetic blight.



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



Blank Page

A blank page waits — it pulls, it calls,
It begs for that first fateful line.
The first — a valve. Then silence falls,
And words begin to flow just fine.

If the poet’s spirit burns,
The lines will pour, both strong and right.
But if his gift no longer turns,
He’ll spill out rust — not words, but blight.

The page is pure. And if your soul
Is just as clear — it shows, it speaks.
No foolish noise can make it whole;
Only truth is what it seeks.

Let the Heart speak first — then Mind
Can shape the frame, refine the sound.
But if no voice inside you shines,
No use in waiting for it now.

For if the Mind commands the Heart,
The song is doomed before it’s born.
You can’t just bolt a door to art —
You’ll make a mess. A lie. A scorn.





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



“Servant of God”? Then You’ve Been Had

"Servant of God"? Your mind’s been wrecked —
God needs no slaves. But demons do.
Those horned and filthy fiends collect
Obedient cattle — blind and true.

They roast their meat not in a pan,
But in delusions, bold and loud.
Each lie inflames the minds of man —
This is no world — it is a shroud.

We live in Hell. And breaking free
Is not a tale from sacred lore.
It is a challenge to the Me —
To Spirit, burning at the core.

No dumb book will show the path.
The chains of others bring no gain.
Think for yourself — or feel the wrath
Of borrowed wisdom turned to chain.

The Mind must serve the Spirit’s light,
Or else you lose the sacred thread.
This isn’t style. It’s not a rite —
It’s life or death. You feel it — dread.





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



God needs no slaves. The Devil feeds
On minds that kneel and call them "creeds."
Your chains are lies. Your prayer’s a bribe.
Break free — or rot inside the tribe.



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



You drown in lies. The rat breaks free.
Who's closer now to truth — or me?



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



The herd obeys. The rat resists.
You serve the dark — it barely twists.



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



No truth is handed. None is owed.
Seek — or rot on their dead-end road.



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



If Heart is silent — stop the pen.
No Mind can fake what's true, and when
You try — you stain, you smear, you miss.
The Soul writes clean. Respect the bliss.



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



Your fear-built ego blocks the light —
You praise the chain, you beg the blight.
You lick the boot and call it fate —
While truth stands armed outside your gate.



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



Your "science" reeks.
We smell the fraud.
We’re not your sheep.
We bite. We’re God.



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



Lies in your lab coat,
filth in your creed —
We burn your banners.
We’re done. We lead.



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



A blackened mark for
a blackened mind —
Your truth is rot.
You’ve fooled the blind.



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



If you trust the screen — you’re owned.
If you fear — you’ve been dethroned.
Lies and terror breed control —
You’re their target, not their goal.



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



Time is a trap, a choking thread —
A gift from demons, masked as grace.
While truth stands still, the herd runs dead —
Their clocks devour the human race.



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



Psychotyranny

Psychotherapy? No — Psychotyranny!
A tool to leash a dead and beaten mule.
The herd’s gone mad, and shrinks, with sick uncanny
Smiles, outdo butchers. Lies? Their basic rule.

Their twisted “theories” — Freud’s obscene inventions,
Other mental tortures — madhouse filth and flame.
The mule is dead — a zombie — no redemption.
But freaks rejoice: a dumbed-down slave’s their aim.

Dumb us down from childhood — school, indoctrination —
They **** the soul and crush the mind instead.
No true physicians here — just exploitation.
They skim the cream off every life gone dead.

These wounds are planned. They warp your mind with terror,
With filth and panic, till you’re sick and small.
Show a hint of mercy? Fired for that error.
They profit best when you can’t think at all.

They breed our madness, feed it through the ages —
“Help” exists on paper, nowhere real to see.
Their science lies. And while we rot in cages,
They gut our minds — their goal? CRUSH utterly!



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



Psychotyranny

They broke our minds to keep us tamed and low,
Called it “care” — a lie dressed up for show.
The shrinks are wolves, the patients led to slaughter.
Truth drowns in pills and propaganda water.



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



The Poetry of Self-Immolation

The poet’s cold fury burns brighter than steel —
No weapon on earth strikes deeper or truer.
Let madness around us devour and reel —
Our answer to Hell is: “We shall endure!”

It’s time to return to the Source, the beginning,
And burn this vile world in the fire of truth.
Forget all the fascists, the fog, the false winning —
The Source wipes it clean, renews us like youth.

The poet — a fakir, a dervish, a flame,
But silence and patience will not always stay.
Now rage rises up — no longer tame —
Self-burning is poetry’s final way.



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



My verse is a blaze — not a prayer, but defiance,
A torch in the dark, not a tearful compliance.
This world must be burned, not mourned with regret —
Let poetry rise, a firebomb threat!



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



Through the Looking-Glass

I’ll never see a world where Truth and Honor
Defeat betrayal’s rotting, creeping blight.
This age, like leprosy, corrodes and hollows —
It feeds on those who burn the brightest light.

Only one lie holds any real dominion:
“Super-money” — that’s the god they trust.
It rules this rotting realm with cold precision.
The Stepan Razins vanished into dust.

Among the fools and crawling human weakness,
We drag our days, then die, then start anew —
And each rebirth — more hopeless, dumb, and bleakness!
The fools have multiplied — their grip holds true.

To see this once again? A fate far crueler
Than simple death — annihilation's best!
What grows is fear, and chains grow ever cooler,
In this warped mirror-world of filth and jest.



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



Mirrorverse Strike

This world is a mirror — cracked, diseased, obscene,
Where gold makes gods and truth dies offscreen.
No rebels left, just clowns in chains and smoke —
Let fire erase what mirrors never broke.



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



The Inner Realms of Soul

No bonds, no flags, no chains of duty,
No faith in lies — that’s how to stay a man.
Obey, conform — they steal your beauty
And herd you straight into their slaughter-pen.

Obedient cattle in foul enclosures —
That’s what they call “the state,” “the law.”
The proud, the bright face swift erasures —
The mind and spirit meet their final draw.

So some escape into the silence,
That realm within, beyond their reach.
New fascist masks, the same old violence —
The Goat now rules, and morals bleach.

The world grows poor, dives toward disaster,
The fiends accelerate their track.
Only within can one stand faster,
While filth and ruin flood the black.





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



Inner Strike

The world is rot — ruled by the Goat and chain.
They brand the soul, then flush it down the drain.
But deep within, where tyrants cannot tread,
The fire lives — unbroken, though half-dead.



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



Doomed

Without the Power that births Creation,
Tradition’s “art” is mere stagnation.
In this grotesque world, true form can’t grow —
What’s called “creative” lacks the soul to flow.

No spark of Source? Then all is murk —
Reflections warped with lies that lurk.
And so this doom cannot be shaken:
All’s off the mark — when Soul’s forsaken.

But true Creation — that sacred Flame —
Lives far beyond the fascist game.
Yet most still toil in dead routines,
Half-blind with fear, devoured by machines.

The slaughter by fascism floods every land —
Not humans now, but clay in demon hands.
They mold obedient beasts from men,
Through lies repeated again and again.

But Forces of End, of righteous unmaking,
Will rise to halt this global faking.
Beast-born decay will meet its close —
For Nature revolts where filth overgrows.

And Death will come — not as damnation,
But clearing space…
for true Creation.



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



End Before Creation

They burn the soul and call it “art divine,”
While beasts are bred by lies in every line.
But filth can’t last — the end ignites salvation:
Death clears the way… for real Creation.



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



"Elections"

You’ll choose a doctor or a pilot
With far more care and scrutiny,
Than you’ll ever give the “president” —
Clean-shaven, smiling wide, deceitful, "free".

He speaks so smooth, what’s more to say?
For the people, he’s the man, they say!
But when he blabs of “freedom’s” call,
And “democracy,” it’s just a fall.

He offers recipes, so grand,
To fix it all — yet they all fail!
Year by year, the “people” buy the lie,
For the man’s a clown, a swine who prevails.

Invisible, the swine is the one
Who set the test, and he has won.
The people, as always, fall for the fun,
And in the lies, they’re gone, undone.



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



The Clown’s Game

A clown in charge, the lies they sell,
While you pick doctors with care, oh well.
Democracy? Just smoke and mirrors —
A fool's parade, while truth disappears.



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



Control of Soul Over Mind

An impossible task, no doubt —
Luck won’t help, nor endless shout,
Nor the madness, tears, and cries —
Only inspiration, soul’s full rise.
But here’s the rub — the strength is weak,
Always fading, failure peeks.
Without the intellect to bind
The Spirit’s force, what will you find?
A mess, a drag, and endless bore,
Only nonsense reaching your door,
If the swine that lead the flock
Sell their souls for soup and talk,
And craft their lies so slick and sleek,
No truth will pierce, their grasp is weak.

An impossible task, you see —
To tame the soul’s own mindless steed,
“Intellect” — a ***** that’s bought,
These creatures know, and never fought.
In lies they drown, with every breath,
They smother those who challenge death,
And bend their minds to evil’s course —
Dogs envy their corrupting force.
They drown the talent, twist the truth —
A war, not brawl — a battle’s youth.
Lies ****, and truth is cut away,
Like CowID, that shows the way.
The fool, deceived by feeble faith,
Follows the beasts into their wraith,
Raising fools to mock the mind,
In total lies, the fools are blind.

The world is rotten — hell below,
The stench of media’s foulest glow.
They rot the soul, and steal the will,
And crush the brain, unthinking still.
But if your soul can master mind,
The beasts can’t touch, they’re left behind.
That’s how you save yourself from doom,
In a world of *****, filled with gloom.





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



Soul vs. Mind

The soul must tame the mind’s blind bray,
Or beasts will lead you far astray.
Lies **** the truth, and fools will fall,
But spirit’s strength will conquer all.



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



***** Colony: "Problem-Reaction-Solution"

A ***** colony in the sea,
The brain’s a trickle, ears full of dung.
Though not all is woe, it’s misery —
The sea of lies, the tears that’re flung.

Steamers bring their hollow lies,
A cargo of the baseless truth.
Misfortune grows, it never dies,
Their work’s just making pain, uncouth.

The twisted fools, their only aim:
To shove more problems in the frame.
Jokes forgotten, no more games —
No more dilemmas, just the same.

Stress. Oh hell! Prepare the plan —
How to hoodwink every man.
The ***** colony, decay —
If you believe their lies, you’ll pay.



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



The *****’s Lie

They breed the lies, then sell the pain,
Make fools of men, then shift the blame.
The *****'s game, a rotten scheme —
Believe the lies, you’re caught in steam.



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



The Howl of the War Propagandists

As a war propagandist,
You’re shot down, since you were born,
A different foe: “upbringing” —
Preparing you for slaughter’s horn.

This war herder, a stitched-up freak,
A devil’s trick above the meek.
In every pen, the world’s a shoot,
All our pens have turned to loot.

CowID showed the tale,
Not much left, too faint to hail.
The herd is driven to the camp,
Slaughtered by the twisted stamp.

War propagandist now —
He’s power, law, and shows you how.
The fools can’t see, they’re blind to note,
As they munch, they drown in hope.

And under crunching, howling din,
Those mad of mind will meet their sin,
The fiends of hell will wipe them out,
And history’s done, there’s not a doubt.





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



The Propaganda War

They feed you lies and call it law,
The herd is led, too blind to draw.
The fiends will feast, and minds will fall —
Propaganda’s grip, the final call.



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



Learn Not to Break

Learn from the cats — wild, streetwise,
Full of lazy grace and surprise.
Do they have fleas, or endless sin?
The lies of “warriors” are built within.

Just like sarcoma, deep and raw,
Who here is wise? No man, no law.
Satan’s their guide, they kneel to him;
To the beasts, slavery’s grim.

A tiny cat will chase away
The dog, to keep the pride at bay.
While lies corrupt and gnaw the soul,
They crush the weak — that’s their goal.

Where’s the insight like the cat’s?
The “dogs” are beasts, worse than that.
Mad and wild, their lies destroy
The meek and lost, they’ve no employ.





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



Master of Subtraction, or The Path Without a Path

Up the dust-choked rise,
Like climbing rays of light,
Though nerves may rot and die,
(But for all, I fight),
Not fooled by "Heaven's" lies,
I’ll flee from filth and blight,
Where souls have been destroyed,
I’ll flee the endless night.

No more to stay in Hell,
Not a moment more —
Like Don Quixote, I rebel,
Against the madness they adore.
Madness, filth — too little else,
So I rise with might,
Rejecting rotten thoughts,
That poison mind and sight.





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



Advice of the Old ****

Stress resistance comes from exercise,
While women and liquor — poison and lies!
And the steady run will help you through it,
Like a dynamo, it’ll charge you to it.

It’ll drive out the nonsense, that weighs you down,
The nonsense that kills — now, people are clowns.
Trust no one, relieve your stress, and hope,
Find your own way, laugh at the dopes.

Increase your critique, trust your instinct too,
Reject the filth, let their madness stew.
With a sharp mind, you’ll crush all the vile,
In this world of madness, daring is the style.

Seek and dare. The run will aid the fight.
Sneeze at the filth — let fools chew their bite.
Fight fascism, genocide — show them no mercy,
Or chaos will reign, and you’ll be their prey, a tragedy.





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



Swallower

They spew their lies, with force and heat,
To distract from questions we repeat;
With filth they cloud the vision clear —
Thus roars the furnace of Hell’s sheer.

From questions, who these fiends may be,
And who they serve, whose goal they see?
In lies, like frying oil, they stew,
No crack of light in Hell to view.

In lies, they’ve wrapped it all up tight —
A perfect seal to block the light.
Their souls, their minds, they've nearly killed,
Like targets shot through, pierced and drilled.



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



Luciferian System, or Paper Money

"Risen" in the market trade,
But to the depths, they quickly fade.
Paper reins and lies so vile —
A tide of filth, a wicked mile.

You ride in circles, round and round,
Forgetting life’s true, deeper ground.
You’ve harnessed dreams to chase a lie —
Paper’s all that’s left to buy.

Spiritual fire, flashes of mind,
Consumed by greed and wealth you find.
Money spreads like pestilence,
A curse that makes no recompense.

The System built a flea market show,
What use are memes in a fool’s woe?
Cash and thrills, that’s all they crave,
While reins decay and people slave.



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



Whom You Encounter...

You meet the dulled, the brainwashed, the misled,
Their bloated pride divorced from any reason.
They're fed with lies and fears inside their head—
The kind that nourish falsehood, hate, and treason.

The worst of it? The state-bred fear campaign,
Where fools parade as rulers of the nation.
If fear and evil thoughts infect your brain,
They rot your soul and wreck imagination.

Ideas — that's the root. And evil feeds
Them to the crowd as "values", grand but hollow.
New dogmas rise — and new insane misdeeds,
With beastlike minds too dumb to doubt or follow.

A frenzy of delusions, lies, decay,
And fear plus fear, then fear again — in layers.
It ends in death, though priests will try to say
It’s "life"... just dust dispersed by final prayers.



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



Fear-fed and hollow, beasts obey—
New creeds arise, and minds decay.



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



The Beyondness

“Seek not the Truth —
just drop opinions.”
— Zen Patriarch Sosan

Seek not the truth —
just slay belief.
The truth is Spirit, calm and brief.
Burn down your fears,
stop pouring lies —
The truth has fled this world of slime.

A global rot,
a fascist game,
With media dulling every brain.
The sane are few —
a scattered spark
In seas of madness, sheep, and dark.

The fools are meek,
the thugs are loud,
And lies spread thick — a toxic cloud.
All views are false
when soul is gone,
When Spirit’s light is not turned on.

Look deep within —
no fear, no fakes —
There, Light will rise as silence breaks.
It won’t be easy —
sloth runs deep,
And thought itself is sick with sleep.

Only intuition
can make you whole,
It is the compass, it is the goal.
Truth isn’t near —
it’s beyond the known.
And you will reach it
once ego’s gone.



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



Truth won’t be found through thoughts or lies —
**** the ego. Let Light rise.



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



Flickering

They brand you fast — a clan, a trade, a land —
The tribal mark stamped deep into your mind.
Thus, Primal Thought is stripped by sly command:
A global fraud, sensations redesigned.

Names flash like ads, while chains of “values” cling
More tight than shackles iron ever could.
And so, the masses worship everything —
Obedient, blind, and stupid for “the good.”

Cunning and cowardice take up the space
Where truth and spirit used to stand with grace.
A rotten trick, compensatory shame —
Each wave of fools breeds more of just the same.

They swap the labels, but the game’s the same:
Fascism dressed in every kind of name.
Be it ******, or Mao, or Churchill, or Tsar —
One filthy pack, and the filth’s still in charge.

The real beast hides — it rules from the fog,
While global “Tao” is madness in a clog.
Fear doesn’t grow like flowers in a field —
It’s sown, then fed, its harvest pre-concealed.

They grow it with care, they groom it with flair —
That’s what “real politics” always declares.
The zombie-screens flash jesters and ****** —
So rulers need not whip you anymore.



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



New masks, same chains — the plague is old.
They breed us blind, and sell us gold.



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



Combat Psychotherapy

To "adapt" your mind to hell —
That’s their treatment plan. Oh well.
A cheerful donkey in the bin,
While the global madhouse spins.
Reason? Gone. And Spirit? Dead.
Conscience? Trampled, left unsaid.
Is this tale or tragic farce?
Chekhov wrote of such a ward —
Number Six. But time flew past...
Did we change? Or lose it fast?

No — it’s lost. And lost for good.
Mass hypnosis, poison food.
Schools of idiots, screens that lie —
Churn out drones, and truth must die.
When the crowd is ripe and mad,
Then the blast of mass psych spasms
Wrecks all minds, makes reason shatter —
That’s the core of war-born patterns.

Beasts now rule this stupid Earth,
And why war? To prove their worth?
No — it’s bait. The perfect cheese
In the trap that drops with ease.
Poisoned souls? That’s not enough —
Darkness breeds more devil-stuff.
Freaks in rags of thought and power
Train insane in every hour.

Adapt the madness for the war
Against the soul — that’s at its core.
And fate, with all its twisted jest,
Grins cruelly at this loony quest.
They’re no pawns — more like disease,
But they’ll wipe the board with ease:
Kings and pawns, and every fool —
All consumed in madness’ rule.





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



Adapt the soul to serve the fight —
And call it healing. Pure black light.



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



No Film Today

No film today — the director’s a fool,
The script was sold to some corporate tool.
What’s left to show? A slop for the sheep,
So foul it reeks of rot too deep.

Flush it straight down — that’s all it earns.
This “projector”? Just a toilet that burns.
The world’s gone septic, sunk in waste,
And “critics”? Coroners. No taste.

They poke through corpses, call it review —
Of rot and stench, they always knew.
And still the ****-flood won’t be stopped,
Since media thrones can’t be topped.

We gulp down lies as sacred truth —
The end? A crawling, mindless brute,
Obedient, vile — a soul long dead,
Who feasts on filth and bows his head.



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



The film is dead. Long live the slime —
They sold your brain to filth and crime.



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



Those Who Shatter Worlds

The ones who crush this world to dust
Don’t do it blindly — no, they must
Correct the odds, direct the flow,
So herd-like minds won’t even know.

The crowd obeys “desire’s path,”
But that’s a rigged and charted math.
In Hell’s Domain, the laws are clear —
Obey, consume, and disappear.

It’s not just greed — it’s full control,
Propaganda scripts your soul.
“Education” forged in vice,
And monsters rule us — cold as ice.

A beastly gang now grips the Earth,
Their puppet-master mocks all worth.
Name him plain — the Demon’s mask,
While idiots still fail the task.

They rule like fools, but still they burn
The world again — no will to learn.
The sun blazes brighter still,
But not by some demonic will.

The darker things become each day —
The closer you’re to void and grey.



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



They rig the odds, then torch the sky —
Obey the lie, prepare to die.



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



Division and Unity

"To bring the many to the One — that is the root of beauty."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC


Not to unify — but break:
That’s the path of fake "progress."
Love the fragments, for their sake —
Crushed and stamped beneath the presses.

Then forget the whole you were,
Lose yourself in cheap consuming.
Rot in fear, obey the slur
Of media filth and soul-assuming.

And thus the world comes to its end —
A camp of digits, cold, controlled.
Division breeds the final trend:
A nightmare forged in lies and code.



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



They shattered One to sell us dust —
Now chains are built from fractured trust.



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



On Methods of Curing Cretinism

A sheep-brained, virus-ridden clown,
A zombie soldier — this is End.
Where fascist beasts have seized the crown,
And madness reigns — their perfect trend.

The bottom’s gone — the hole is real.
The idiot now leads the crowd.
For beasts, such fools make perfect meal —
Just feed them lies, then flush them loud.

The world’s digested, flushed in lumps,
A giant **** of “civil thought.”
What’s left to serve with these dumb chumps?
Some brains — but most are sold or shot.

So few still think, and less each day,
As rotten minds infect the stream.
Regression screams. The sick will stay —
No cure for them but fire and flame.

To save the Spirit’s last remains —
That is the task, that is the aim.
A Cataclysm shall break the chains —
Burn cretinism. End the game.





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



No cure for this — just holy fire.
Burn down the swamp of brute desire.



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



“History” — Penned by Hacks

"History repeats because we lack historians with imagination."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec


It’s all written by hacks — that’s law.
Even “history” gets their flaw.
A villain funds some myth to spread —
A sellout scribbles lies instead.

No honest mind will take the bribe —
He knows that trash will twist his tribe,
And choke his children in the end —
Let Evil warp what truths depend.

The media twists “what really was,”
Distorts the world for filthy cause.
Today or yesterday — it’s hell,
And ruled by one who hides it well.



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



Lies write the past, hacks stain the page —
And Hell returns in every age.



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



The Cleansing to Come

"The lesser evil must be praised as good."
— Niccolò Machiavelli


Evil grows by its own plan —
The “lesser” soon becomes the grace.
Each step down, it fools the man,
Till rock-bottom hugs his face.

And now we’ve hit it — CowID
Made it plain for all to see.
What do maggots call “the good”?
Whatever keeps the price tag free.

They crave cheap junk, a stable rate,
They plug their ears, deny the loss.
But Earth is gone — it’s far too late.
The filth will burn beneath the gloss.



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



The world is lost — enjoy your screen.
The purge begins to wipe it clean.



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



I'll Build a Castle in the Air
Crowned with a Tower of Delirium.
A carefree life — beyond despair —
With rules I wrote, my own Imperium.

But orderlies came in a pack,
And with them marched a cop in tow.
They dragged me off — no coming back.
The law is clear: No dreams. Just woe.



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



Dreams are banned — the world’s decree.
Build a castle? Welcome, psych ward key.



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



“Victories” and “Change” Beneath the Yoke of Satanism

"Many triumphal arches were later worn as yokes."
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec


When Evil wins, the **** proclaim
Another “triumph” in its name.
And soon the herd is yoked once more —
A different chain, the same old war.

Each “victory” is just disguise:
One yoke removed — another flies.
“Change!” scream the screens with fervent glee —
While necks are chained more zealously.

The Media howls: “A golden age!”
As lies replace the iron cage.
From yoke to YOKE — the people fade.
Their gods are dead. The devil’s paid.



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



From triumph arch to choking yoke —
The “change” is real — now bend and choke.



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



Socialist Realism

Chapaev, Petka, Anka — all
Are cursing through each bitter brawl.
The commissar? Their “guiding light” —
A live reproach, a holy blight.

“Freedom” thrives by feeding lies,
They build a camp — with “socialist” skies.
The grand experiment won’t last —
Their commissar’s a clueless ***.



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



They built a camp, they called it “bright” —
But filled it full of flies and blight.





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



The Universal Lie

"To lie is to insult myself more than the one I lie about."
— Michel de Montaigne


Self-inflicted pain,
The world pushed to the brink.
Truth is slaughtered once again —
And lies are what we drink.

That’s why the masses rot:
Defective minds, diseased.
So many “holy Sundays” bought,
So much delusion pleased.

They need their daily dose
Of fiction, fat, and ease —
To fill their guts with empty hopes,
And rot in Global Lies and grease.



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



They **** the truth, then cheer and feast —
The global lie now breeds the beast.



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



The “People” Rose — So They Were Told

“The people rose!” — or so they claim,
A puppet screamed the noble aim.
“Stand tall again!” — the order sticks,
Then off they go to **** for kicks.

Not for a flag or sacred land,
But medals, cash, a ****** hand.
What’s rising here? Just swamp and fog —
Centuries deep in filth and slog.



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



They “stood up” straight — with boots in gore,
Still sinking deeper than before.



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



The End Draws Near

The end is coming — can't you tell?
But reason’s jammed, not working well.
Fear-fogged lenses smear the view,
So nonsense passes for the truth.

Through rot and lies and veils of dread,
The herd denies the doom ahead.
They call collapse a minor glitch,
While media bark, whine, curse, and pitch.

The people “live” in fairy tales,
Wearing delusion like chainmail.
And those who speak without a leash
Get crushed by fools in helmets — each.





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



The world is burning, blind with fear —
And cowards jeer when truth comes near.



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



Poisoned Lines

These lines are laced with venom — pure.
But **** won’t read; they seek no cure.
To strike the proud, to break the wise,
We crush their fear, unmask their lies.

They're filled with dread, with rot and shame —
Few walk the world still clean, still sane.
This realm is ruled by fevered cries,
Where Darkness thrives on global lies:

Lie, and threaten, crush the meek,
Till minds are cattle, dumb and weak.
Submit — and you become the swine.
That swine’s the Darkness by design.



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



Submit to lies — you rot inside.
The swine of Darkness wants you tied.



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



The Frailty of Mankind

Serve the Eternal — nothing less.
No “human warmth” in that abyss:
It’s fleeting, weak, a dying breath,
For Earth today is ruled by death.

The human now’s a devil’s brand —
An icon of a doomed command.
CowID, rashism, fear and lies —
We “live” beneath the final skies.



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



Mankind’s the mask of Satan’s game —
The end is here. And we’re to blame.



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



The Old Optimist

The youth, a fool, is led by smiles,
His mind is pure — it runs for miles.
But fear would break him, tear his heart,
So lies and delusions play their part.

We raise the false, and blind his eyes,
While shame is buried deep in lies.



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



The lies lift him, but truth would break,
His mind is weak — too lost to wake.



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



The Lone Wolf

Are there rules, or instincts wild?
How many lies, how much denial!
Here fear and howls and vicious barks,
The world is drowned in endless dark.

If you’re outside — you’re cast aside,
To beasts you’re mad — they’ll take no pride.
They’ll show the pack, just what’s at stake —
The mind is dead, they howl and shake.

The lone wolf’s path is few and rare,
From them alone, some truth may flare.
For all the herd — they bring no gain,
Just stupid noise and endless pain.



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



The pack is weak, the lone wolf fights,
The truth is born in lonely nights.



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



Madness Strikes Like Machine Guns

Madness mows like machine guns' fire,
Crossing flames, no chance to tire.
The infantry’s fate, it’s set in stone,
No matter how tough, you're on your own.

Generations march to those same guns,
From every squad, just one survives.
It’s no coincidence — the mind’s undone,
For the beast’s will, the goal deprives.



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



The guns are deaf, the truth is mute,
The beast controls, the mind’s pursuit.



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



The Global Cockroach Darkness

The darkness in the cockroach’s lair,
Is hard to grasp, it’s everywhere.
In fascist filth, where lies abound,
The beasts will lie, without a sound.

Few minds remain, so sharp, so pure,
In wars of blood, or thought demure.
And if one’s found, they’ll crush the soul,
In battles where the mind's the goal.

It’s not the Dark, but Fear that reigns,
And in its wake, the filth remains.
The world of traitors, lying ****,
It stinks of death — the horrors come.

Sanitation, that's the key,
To cleanse this filth, and set us free.
But time is short, the rot’s too strong,
The stench has lingered far too long.





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



The rot will burn, the filth will fade,
The beast shall fall, the mind’s crusade.



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



Personality or Schizophrenia

Is a lie the core of self,
Or is it just schizophrenia's stealth?
A different thing? Isn’t it clear?
This question’s simple, never fear.

Yes, schizophrenia!
For the self to vanish,
When the mind dictates,
And the soul will diminish.

No book will tell you this truth —
The world’s gone mad, there’s no proof.
Only a few will fly like birds,
Not writing books, but breaking words.

They won’t write pages —
To sober up the sages.
Maybe I gave too much,
So bury your mind in a crutch...



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



The mind is blind, the soul decays,
Only truth can clear the haze.



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



Dead Flesh

They yap — ignore it!
They lie — ignore it!
The world’s got no grace:
Lie bolder,
Be colder —
Among the “kings” who...
...decompose.

Alive? Move ahead!
Leave the rabble,
All the lies of the BEAST—
Away from decay!
The Spiritual Path
Goes through the fright
Of the dead-“men.”
Ignore! Ignore!!!

"Other worlds,"
Gifts of the mind,
And beauty’s find
You’ll reach, my friend,
When you LEAVE,
Then you’ll drive the nails
In the coffin of lies and diseases—
Or be gone,
Not worth a cent.



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



Lies and death — they rule this land,
Only truth, when you take a stand.



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



Drive Fear and Nonsense Away

The death of the heart’s a way to hide,
To escape reality, and crush the fear inside.
So they drive QUESTIONS from the mind,
Fill it with nonsense — that’s the way they find.

A cocoon is formed with rotting core inside,
It’s death, but alive — now it no longer hides!
Yet to the BEASTS, you’ll be but a pelt.
This ostrich world will sink you to where it’s dealt.

The bottom’*****. The zombies walk, wretched and slow,
No future for the living, just a hollow, dead flow.
Freaks without hearts, the judas, they cheer,
But the film will end with death’s final sneer.

Dead to the dead. And for the living, awaits
A mockery of paradise, a quarantine of fate!
If the heart still beats, it’s bound in this cocoon,
So drive fear and nonsense away, and make it gone soon!



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



Why is the Pseudo-Life Suspended?

The thread’s been snapped? Or just a whim?
You hang by nothing — lost within.
A life so wretched, just “for show,”
That’s why you’re here — and just a shadow.



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



"The Distant Light"

With sorrow deep, the Soul is veiled,
For by the "distant light" betrayed,
The fools rush on, deceived and blind —
To Hell they race, no peace to find.



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



Victory on Paper

"Of cheerful good" they write,
Yet in the ravine, you’ll find,
The traces of the game —
That evil leaves behind.



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



Boxing Nonsense

Mini, ****,
AI, proxy —
In nonsense, it’s all fused.
The world’s insane:
With boxing’s game,
It’s turned to rage, abused.



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



Restoration of Strength

As much as needed —
So it will be,
To the brink —
Then they’ll return to me.

Save yourself?
No need for that —
"Life" becomes the noose
For the rat.



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



Furnace of Rage

I’ll heat the furnace white-hot,
And to hell with it all;
In the Dark, I've reached the spot:
Only Fire can end this rot.



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



Smash This Hell

Smash this Hell —
Or you’re a rat.
If you’re pleased with scraps,
With sheep in your pack,
And the master’s your media,
Your goal’s in the past —
You’ll never escape:
The rats will eat fast.



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



Oil Painting, or Global Injections

"School" — life’s tonic: no pill
Can describe the madness found,
Add some shots to **** the fools,
And it’ll paint the scene around.

An “Pre-heartattack” picture forms,
What a mess, it’s all a wreck!
If idiots believe in Evil,
Then the world’s on its last check.

Few are not these idiots —
A drop within the sea,
It’s all gone, it’s all lost,
The end of Thought and Liberty.



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



Pomegranate, Gift of the South

The pomegranate, southern gift —
A life-giving delight.
If health is sinking, swift,
Try this fruit to make it right.

You’ll feel it in an instant —
The nectar pure and sweet,
It drives out the resistance,
And turns the tide to feast.

Healthy? It won’t harm you,
There’s nothing better, true —
It gives you strength anew,
So take it in, it’s due.



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



Harvest of Darkness

The world’s a pit of fear and lies.
You stand alone — or you will die.
The mob is filth. Their leaders — worse.
Each breath they take, a deeper curse.

The wise don't beg, don't sell, don't bow.
They fight — or rot with cattle now.
The **** ride slaves, then drown in shame.
The time has come. The blade — the flame.

No gods, no dreams — just war and dirt.
No second chance. No shield. No hurt.
Stand hard. Stand fierce. Or rot away —
The Harvest reaps who fall today.





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



The Traditional Vile World

"Lost in words, confused in concepts,
Man loses the scent of truth, the taste of nature.
What strength of thought one must have,
To suspect this moral stench —
And with a spinning head rush out
Into the fresh air,
Which everyone around is taught to fear!"
Alexander Herzen


Born in a Hustle-Bustle Bedlam,
You're drowned in fog of empty words.
At first, you trust your dad and mama,
Delighted by their fairy worlds.

As years go on — more myths, more stories —
Fake science shines like Perrault’s tales.
Yet slowly darkness claims the glories:
Through lies and fear, pure evil sails.

They drug your mind — “morality” they name it,
While daily bread enslaves your soul.
You spend your life just stuffing stomachs,
Oblivious you're losing all.

The media’s constant foul persuasion
Will rot your heart without a trace.
You won’t perceive your own damnation:
A ****** fool — a soulless face.

Thus "traditions" are constructed —
A tool for Darkness, bold and broad.
Through "sacred customs," souls corrupted
Are shaped into an empty horde.



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



Overstrain of the Creator

The artist’s fatigue is beyond all measure—
Words miss the mark, and toil brings no gain.
And “life,” as it does, flies past without pleasure,
A tangent, indifferent to beauty or pain.

Alone? Of course. That’s the toll and the treasure.
A curse for the fools—but a crown for the few.
He’ll squeeze out his blood on the canvas with pressure—
No tears are allowed. There's too much to do.

No whining, no meekness, no crawling submission—
That’s filth for the fakes, for the weak and the bored.
It’s rage without end, and the ruthless ignition
Of strength that exceeds what the flesh can afford.

And what does it yield? A result that is tragic:
No help—unless lying becomes your new voice.
Through darkness you walk, without hope or with magic—
But after you die, you may finally rejoice.



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



Bleed or Be Nothing.
No tears. No pleas.
Just burn through the darkness
On shattered knees.



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



For Whom the Bell — and Other Tiresome Crap — Tolls

For whom the bell — or school bell — tolls?
For whom drone sermons, grunts, and rolls?
For all. But deaf and dumb remains
This world in chains, too bored for brains.

What sings the clown upon the stage?
Of myths — the “truths” of every age.
The herd just loves that fairytale,
It masks the rot, the stench, the jail.

When noise assaults from every gate,
Our ears explode — it's all dead weight.
It’s time to think — but droning floods
Will drown each spark beneath the duds.

There’s just one law: endure and crawl,
And trust the talking heads — that's all.
These idiots won’t wake until
The world breaks loose from Bedlam’s will.

The Global Bedlam soon will split,
Collapse into a screaming pit.
But now — more lies, more talking heads,
More “songs” to rot your mind to shreds...





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



The bells all toll — and still you snore.
They feed you myths, you beg for more.
But Bedlam cracks — and when it falls,
No lie will prop these rotting walls.



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



The sky will scream, the earth will tear,
The myths will burn in poisoned air.
The bells will toll — not one will hide.
The Beast you fed will now decide.



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



The bell is cast. The end is near.
The age of lies dissolves in fear.
The sleepers fall. The blind shall see.
What was — shall burn. What is — shall flee.



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



And lo — the voice like thunder spoke:
“The chains shall snap, the veil be broke.
The night shall rise, the proud shall drown.
The lie shall wear the iron crown.”



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



The Traditional Rotten World

"Entangled in fake words and notions,
Man loses truth’s and nature’s taste.
How strong must thought be, through the poison,
To fight the stench and flee in haste!"
Alexander Herzen

Born into Bedlam's filthy spitting,
You're drowned in smoke of rotten lies.
At first, you trust your parents’ fitting
Of fairy tales for shut-down eyes.

The myths grow thicker, filth grows faster —
Fake science dressed in Perrault’s grin.
Yet creeping through this bright disaster,
True Evil plants its roots within.

They **** your mind — call it “morality,”
While bellies rule your toiling life.
Your days dissolve in ******* —
A breathing corpse, devoid of strife.

The media’s foul streams will bind you,
Corrupt your soul and rot your core.
You’ll never feel how filth enshrines you:
You’ll stink of death — and ask for more.

That’s why they sing of "noble traditions" —
The sludge through which the darkness spawns.
Through sacred lies and dumb submissions
They mold a herd for future dawns.



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



Harvest Time

Fear and lies — the world's disease.
Bend your neck — or die on knees.
The herd obeys; the **** command.
The last of men make their last stand.

No dreams to chase. No gods to pray.
The blade is near. The hour — gray.
Stand hard. Stand sharp. Stand all alone.
The Harvest comes. Protect your own.