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brandon nagley Jun 2015
Spike me,
                To thy cross,
I'll taketh thine twinge,
               I'll taketh thy sin's of loss!!!
Tack me,
               For I'll take thy quills,
I'll spill mine crour,
               For thou shalt be sutured to ourn abode in hidden tilth!!!
Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild
Mingled in harmony on Nature's face,
Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot
Fail not with weariness, for on their tops
The beauty and the majesty of earth,
Spread wide beneath, shall make thee to forget
The steep and toilsome way. There, as thou stand'st,
The haunts of men below thee, and around
The mountain summits, thy expanding heart
Shall feel a kindred with that loftier world
To which thou art translated, and partake
The enlargement of thy vision. Thou shalt look
Upon the green and rolling forest tops,
And down into the secrets of the glens,
And streams, that with their bordering thickets strive
To hide their windings. Thou shalt gaze, at once,
Here on white villages, and tilth, and herds,
And swarming roads, and there on solitudes
That only hear the torrent, and the wind,
And eagle's shriek. There is a precipice
That seems a fragment of some mighty wall,
Built by the hand that fashioned the old world,
To separate its nations, and thrown down
When the flood drowned them. To the north, a path
Conducts you up the narrow battlement.
Steep is the western side, shaggy and wild
With mossy trees, and pinnacles of flint,
And many a hanging crag. But, to the east,
Sheer to the vale go down the bare old cliffs,--
Huge pillars, that in middle heaven upbear
Their weather-beaten capitals, here dark
With the thick moss of centuries, and there
Of chalky whiteness where the thunderbolt
Has splintered them. It is a fearful thing
To stand upon the beetling verge, and see
Where storm and lightning, from that huge gray wall,
Have tumbled down vast blocks, and at the base
Dashed them in fragments, and to lay thine ear
Over the dizzy depth, and hear the sound
Of winds, that struggle with the woods below,
Come up like ocean murmurs. But the scene
Is lovely round; a beautiful river there
Wanders amid the fresh and fertile meads,
The paradise he made unto himself,
Mining the soil for ages. On each side
The fields swell upward to the hills; beyond,
Above the hills, in the blue distance, rise
The mighty columns with which earth props heaven.

  There is a tale about these reverend rocks,
A sad tradition of unhappy love,
And sorrows borne and ended, long ago,
When over these fair vales the savage sought
His game in the thick woods. There was a maid,
The fairest of the Indian maids, bright-eyed,
With wealth of raven tresses, a light form,
And a gay heart. About her cabin-door
The wide old woods resounded with her song
And fairy laughter all the summer day.
She loved her cousin; such a love was deemed,
By the morality of those stern tribes,
Incestuous, and she struggled hard and long
Against her love, and reasoned with her heart,
As simple Indian maiden might. In vain.
Then her eye lost its lustre, and her step
Its lightness, and the gray-haired men that passed
Her dwelling, wondered that they heard no more
The accustomed song and laugh of her, whose looks
Were like the cheerful smile of Spring, they said,
Upon the Winter of their age. She went
To weep where no eye saw, and was not found
When all the merry girls were met to dance,
And all the hunters of the tribe were out;
Nor when they gathered from the rustling husk
The shining ear; nor when, by the river's side,
Thay pulled the grape and startled the wild shades
With sounds of mirth. The keen-eyed Indian dames
Would whisper to each other, as they saw
Her wasting form, and say the girl will die.

  One day into the ***** of a friend,
A playmate of her young and innocent years,
She poured her griefs. "Thou know'st, and thou alone,"
She said, "for I have told thee, all my love,
And guilt, and sorrow. I am sick of life.
All night I weep in darkness, and the morn
Glares on me, as upon a thing accursed,
That has no business on the earth. I hate
The pastimes and the pleasant toils that once
I loved; the cheerful voices of my friends
Have an unnatural horror in mine ear.
In dreams my mother, from the land of souls,
Calls me and chides me. All that look on me
Do seem to know my shame; I cannot bear
Their eyes; I cannot from my heart root out
The love that wrings it so, and I must die."

  It was a summer morning, and they went
To this old precipice. About the cliffs
Lay garlands, ears of maize, and shaggy skins
Of wolf and bear, the offerings of the tribe
Here made to the Great Spirit, for they deemed,
Like worshippers of the elder time, that God
Doth walk on the high places and affect
The earth-o'erlooking mountains. She had on
The ornaments with which her father loved
To deck the beauty of his bright-eyed girl,
And bade her wear when stranger warriors came
To be his guests. Here the friends sat them down,
And sang, all day, old songs of love and death,
And decked the poor wan victim's hair with flowers,
And prayed that safe and swift might be her way
To the calm world of sunshine, where no grief
Makes the heart heavy and the eyelids red.
Beautiful lay the region of her tribe
Below her--waters resting in the embrace
Of the wide forest, and maize-planted glades
Opening amid the leafy wilderness.
She gazed upon it long, and at the sight
Of her own village peeping through the trees,
And her own dwelling, and the cabin roof
Of him she loved with an unlawful love,
And came to die for, a warm gush of tears
Ran from her eyes. But when the sun grew low
And the hill shadows long, she threw herself
From the steep rock and perished. There was scooped
Upon the mountain's southern *****, a grave;
And there they laid her, in the very garb
With which the maiden decked herself for death,
With the same withering wild flowers in her hair.
And o'er the mould that covered her, the tribe
Built up a simple monument, a cone
Of small loose stones. Thenceforward all who passed,
Hunter, and dame, and ******, laid a stone
In silence on the pile. It stands there yet.
And Indians from the distant West, who come
To visit where their fathers' bones are laid,
Yet tell the sorrowful tale, and to this day
The mountain where the hapless maiden died
Is called the Mountain of the Monument.
ryn Jun 2015
Strengthen these arms
for they only exist to hold up the black canopy
that is the night sky

May these legs find purchase
on this expanse of tilth
that has received the boon of yesterday's cry

Feel the cadence of my skipping heart
resulting in the breeze of faltering breaths
lulling you as you lie

Comfort the tremors of these quivering lips
as they whisper forth
promises of mysterious galaxies and
cryptic nebulae

These eyes would cast their gaze;
assuming the role of sentry
guarding from all who would pry

My being... My entirety was put here
so that your bed would remain safe
from future's winds come silent and sly
Among our hills and valleys, I have known
Wise and grave men, who, while their diligent hands
Tended or gathered in the fruits of earth,
Were reverent learners in the solemn school
Of nature. Not in vain to them were sent
Seed-time and harvest, or the vernal shower
That darkened the brown tilth, or snow that beat
On the white winter hills. Each brought, in turn,
Some truth, some lesson on the life of man,
Or recognition of the Eternal mind
Who veils his glory with the elements.

  One such I knew long since, a white-haired man,
Pithy of speech, and merry when he would;
A genial optimist, who daily drew
From what he saw his quaint moralities.
Kindly he held communion, though so old,
With me a dreaming boy, and taught me much
That books tell not, and I shall ne'er forget.

  The sun of May was bright in middle heaven,
And steeped the sprouting forests, the green hills
And emerald wheat-fields, in his yellow light.
Upon the apple-tree, where rosy buds
Stood clustered, ready to burst forth in bloom,
The robin warbled forth his full clear note
For hours, and wearied not. Within the woods,
Whose young and half transparent leaves scarce cast
A shade, gay circles of anemones
Danced on their stalks; the shadbush, white with flowers,
Brightened the glens; the new-leaved butternut
And quivering poplar to the roving breeze
Gave a balsamic fragrance. In the fields
I saw the pulses of the gentle wind
On the young grass. My heart was touched with joy
At so much beauty, flushing every hour
Into a fuller beauty; but my friend,
The thoughtful ancient, standing at my side,
Gazed on it mildly sad. I asked him why.

  "Well mayst thou join in gladness," he replied,
"With the glad earth, her springing plants and flowers,
And this soft wind, the herald of the green
Luxuriant summer. Thou art young like them,
And well mayst thou rejoice. But while the flight
Of seasons fills and knits thy spreading frame,
It withers mine, and thins my hair, and dims
These eyes, whose fading light shall soon be quenched
In utter darkness. Hearest thou that bird?"

  I listened, and from midst the depth of woods
Heard the love-signal of the grouse, that wears
A sable ruff around his mottled neck;
Partridge they call him by our northern streams,
And pheasant by the Delaware. He beat
'Gainst his barred sides his speckled wings, and made
A sound like distant thunder; slow the strokes
At first, then fast and faster, till at length
They passed into a murmur and were still.

  "There hast thou," said my friend, "a fitting type
Of human life. 'Tis an old truth, I know,
But images like these revive the power
Of long familiar truths. Slow pass our days
In childhood, and the hours of light are long
Betwixt the morn and eve; with swifter lapse
They glide in manhood, and in age they fly;
Till days and seasons flit before the mind
As flit the snow-flakes in a winter storm,
Seen rather than distinguished. Ah! I seem
As if I sat within a helpless bark
By swiftly running waters hurried on
To shoot some mighty cliff. Along the banks
Grove after grove, rock after frowning rock,
Bare sands and pleasant homes, and flowery nooks,
And isles and whirlpools in the stream, appear
Each after each, but the devoted skiff
Darts by so swiftly that their images
Dwell not upon the mind, or only dwell
In dim confusion; faster yet I sweep
By other banks, and the great gulf is near.

  "Wisely, my son, while yet thy days are long,
And this fair change of seasons passes slow,
Gather and treasure up the good they yield--
All that they teach of virtue, of pure thoughts
And kind affections, reverence for thy God
And for thy brethren; so when thou shalt come
Into these barren years, thou mayst not bring
A mind unfurnished and a withered heart."

  Long since that white-haired ancient slept--but still,
When the red flower-buds crowd the orchard bough,
And the ruffed grouse is drumming far within
The woods, his venerable form again
Is at my side, his voice is in my ear.
Roman Virgil, thou that singest
      Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
      wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;

Landscape-lover, lord of language
      more than he that sang the "Works and Days,"
All the chosen coin of fancy
      flashing out from many a golden phrase;

Thou that singest wheat and woodland,
      tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd;
All the charm of all the Muses
      often flowering in a lonely word;

Poet of the happy Tityrus
      piping underneath his beechen bowers;
Poet of the poet-satyr
      whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;

Chanter of the Pollio, glorying
      in the blissful years again to be,
Summers of the snakeless meadow,
      unlaborious earth and oarless sea;

Thou that seest Universal
      Nature moved by Universal Mind;
Thou majestic in thy sadness
      at the doubtful doom of human kind;

Light among the vanish'd ages;
      star that gildest yet this phantom shore;
Golden branch amid the shadows,
      kings and realms that pass to rise no more;

Now thy Forum roars no longer,
      fallen every purple Caesar's dome--
Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm
      sound forever of Imperial Rome--

Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd,
      and the Rome of freemen holds her place,
I, from out the Northern Island
      sunder'd once from all the human race,

I salute thee, Mantovano,
      I that loved thee since my day began,
Wielder of the stateliest measure
      ever moulded by the lips of man.
justme Mar 2020
Betrayal and hurt carelessness so brutal it cuts my bones an iron blade slowly putting me on my knees till I fall and never come back never the same the wound will heal, but there will be a scar vertically crossing my spine forever every time I see it it will remind me of the most difficult period in my life the moment I learned friends can betray people like to see you dwell, like to see you in pain well some do unfortunately for me you were one of them you hid it really **** well until you finally came out of your shell up for destruction wherever you could find it well from my knees I will In nights I hug Nelson, my dog, my everything,  absence of pain is already luck for me being home in myself is where I will be I don't need *** or a lot of psychical things I will just grow a pair of wings and when life gets too hard when the memories come up I will fly a bit higher up in a realm full op peace and serenquilitity where no one can see me free of this merciless earth a moment of rest until I have climb back, joint the fight, cause I will not hide I will help people who have suffered the same fate I did or something like it I hope that I can give them some comfort, make them calmly sit realise there is realise there is also beauty in life, but it is not found in guys, or excess drugs or means its in the flower floating down a stream, its in the smile on your dog's face when you come home how he whistles before his walk, so happy in his tilth oh so unaware of all the filth I want to protect him forever, so that he only experiences, good and love and gestures of selflessness luckily I am there for him, but who is there for me I'm alone in a filthy ocean, but I must continue, I must swim the reason is a bit unclear it might just be fear like everything falls back in fear of death in the end I try not the reason is a bit unclear, it might just be fear like everything falls back in fear of death in the end, I try not to think sink my feet in the sand, stare at the sun and sing as loud as I can to feel a little brighter a little happiness a little less messy.
Michael Aug 2020
You left without any closure
So the wound stood open
Festering in it’s own filth

The pain severed the synapse
The rot ransack the body
And the trauma snapped the Stem

Fortunately, it won’t affect you
Just me, and everyone like me
For those whose hearts are too big

Well I say, we were ready to fly anyways
Ready to leave the nest
But not ready for the suffering you spread

No, you left us for dead
Like the rest,
Living waste

We kept away from the swig
Learned from what we could see
It’s Us you never knew

You’re just a flightless hen,
Truly a nobody,
And we’ll enjoy watching the collapse

We grew our own tilth
With our own Son
I just hate having to call you father
justme Mar 2020
Betrayal and hurt carelessness so brutal it cuts my bones an iron blade slowly putting me on my knees till I fall and never come back never the same the wound will heal, but there will be a scar vertically crossing my spine forever every time I see it it will remind me of the most difficult period in my life the moment I learned friends can betray people like to see you dwell, like to see you in pain well some do unfortunately for me you were one of them you hid it really **** well until you finally came out of your shell up for destruction wherever you could find it well from my knees I will In nights I hug Nelson, my dog, my everything,  absence of pain is already luck for me being home in myself is where I will be I don't need *** or a lot of psychical things I will just grow a pair of wings and when life gets too hard when the memories come up I will fly a bit higher up in a realm full op peace and serenquilitity where no one can see me free of this merciless earth a moment of rest until I have climb back, joint the fight, cause I will not hide I will help people who have suffered the same fate I did or something like it I hope that I can give them some comfort, make them calmly sit realise there is realise there is also beauty in life, but it is not found in guys, or excess drugs or means its in the flower floating down a stream, its in the smile on your dog's face when you come home how he whistles before his walk, so happy in his tilth oh so unaware of all the filth I want to protect him forever, so that he only experiences, good and love and gestures of selflessness luckily I am there for him, but who is there for me I'm alone in a filthy ocean, but I must continue, I must swim the reason is a bit unclear it might just be fear like everything falls back in fear of death in the end I try not the reason is a bit unclear, it might just be fear like everything falls back in fear of death in the end, I try not to think sink my feet in the sand, stare at the sun and sing as loud as I can to feel a little brighter a little happiness a little less messy.
KJ Apr 2020
My Ceci forgot to breathe
today we lie awake in the gelid breeze
arrhythmic to the buzz of flies.

We wrinkle our nares, such filth
I garner men bury memories
of the sweet dulcet vanilla
they swarmed with hope to tilth.

She was not of this world
A mad woman, they called her
yet all she did was love too much.
I've written, I've shared. What do you think?
Ode to ****** and Goebbels

Oh, ****** and Goebbels? Not such a disgrace—
Compared to the **** who now run this place.
At least they had visions, though twisted and dark;
Now puppets serve demons for a coward’s reward.

Speechwriters deliver their filth to the beasts,
Advisors breed slogans that stink like disease.
And slowly they boil us, each word is a trap—
If you try to escape, they poison your breath.

They cook us like frogs in a lukewarm deceit,
Call it “humanity” while turning up heat.
Then comes the switch: “freedom” means choosing a cage—
Between types of lies, then comes fascist stage.

A stage so refined in obsessive control,
That ****** and Goebbels might cringe at the role.
No match in deception, no rival in spin—
The plebs are deranged by the fraud they breathe in.

So let’s praise old ******, sing songs for his horde—
Compared to today, he was less of a lord
Of total mind-twisting and psychotic despair—
Now truth is the enemy. LIE fills the air.



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




Today’s fascist wears a grin —
Truth is gone, and lies begin.



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




******’s ghost would pale and hiss —
You’ve outdone him. Welcome to this.



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




You fear the past? What childish bliss.
The present drowns in deeper ****.



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




The past was evil — crude, direct.
Today, it smiles with more effect.



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




They preached a cause — however vile.
Now puppets **** us with a smile.



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




Not ******, no — it’s you who lie,
And cook the world while asking “why?”



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




The frog still smiles inside the ***.
She calls it freedom. Knows it’s not.



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



Manifesto of the Lies of the New Age
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1.
They call it peace — and bomb your mind.
Then ask you kindly to be kind.

2.
The tyrant wears a rainbow now,
And speaks of rights — while you learn how
To silence truth, to fear your voice,
And praise your cage as “freedom’s choice.”

3.
They ****** slowly, feed you sweet.
Consent is grown in every tweet.

4.
Your thoughts are scanned, then gently banned.
But smile — you’re free, they understand.

5.
The greatest lie is not the past —
It’s now, it's here, it’s built to last.

6.
You must obey — for your own good.
You must conform — as free men should.

7.
The new Gestapo’s dressed in code,
Its bullets: words. Its courts: upload.

8.
Each screen’s a pulpit. Every face
Repeats the script. Deny — disgrace.

9.
Your chains are soft. Your jailers — kind.
And yet they amputate your mind.

10.
They’ve killed the soul — with no regrets.
But call it "care". And clear your debts.



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



Speech Before the Burning — Series One
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

1.
I watched you trade your fire for foam,
Your hunger for a mirrored home.
You prayed to glass, to likes, to brands —
While wolves devoured bloodied lands.

2.
You made your soul a sleek device,
Then sold it twice. And called it nice.

3.
You feared the truth, so praised the lie.
Now lie with it. And wonder why.

4.
You crowned the cowards, mocked the wise,
Burned prophets live — then wept in cries.

5.
You whispered: “Love.” And built new drones.
You kissed the dead through silent phones.

6.
You gave your children screens and pills,
Then taught them pride in crafted kills.

7.
You fed your rage through filtered feeds.
Then asked: “Who planted all these seeds?”

8.
You knelt for trends, not sacred flame.
You fought for rights — then lost your name.

9.
You called it progress: rot and waste.
The gods you birthed now have no face.

10.
So here’s my word before the blaze:
You built this end. You set the days.
And now — in smoke, in screams, in pride —
Watch all your golden dreams… collide.


---


Speech Before the Burning — Series Two
(the fire speaks now)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


1.
You laughed at gods. You mocked the seers.
Then prayed to markets, drones, careers.

2.
You sterilized the sacred breath,
Then wondered why you smelled like death.

3.
You burned the books. You banned the word.
You feared the sword — then praised the herd.

4.
You let machines rewrite your name.
Now bleed in binary and shame.

5.
You paved the Earth with apps and gold,
Then called the silence brave and bold.

6.
You drank from screens. You danced in loops.
You smiled as children hung from roofs.

7.
You traded blood for “climate laws,”
And bowed to death in branded cause.

8.
You feared the flame — yet struck the spark.
You screamed for light — then worshipped dark.

9.
You banned the word “eternal soul.”
Now rot as data with no goal.

10.
So here I stand — not asking why.
The sky is cracked. The void is nigh.
And from this ash, if breath returns —
Let it not be you who burns.


----


Ashes of Empires, the call of Spark
(third, final episode of "Speech before the burning of civilization" - the voice of Spark)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT

1.
When all is ash, and kings are bones,
One whisper walks through shattered tones.
Not rage. Not hope. Not heaven’s flame —
But that which speaks without a name.

2.
I am the flicker — not the fire,
The breath that stays when gods expire.
You burned the maps. You broke the frame.
But still I hum beneath your shame.

3.
No shrine is mine. No priest, no law.
I hide in silence, crack, and flaw.
The more you lie, the more I grow.
You cage yourself — I start to glow.

4.
I speak in dreams you fear to see,
In questions whispered inwardly.
I dwell in loss. In scorn. In fall.
Where empires rot, I seed the call.

5.
You cannot code Me. Fence Me. Buy.
I live in those who learn to die.
Not death of flesh — but death of mask.
The death that dares to drop the task.

6.
You’ll meet Me not in pride or fame,
But once you shed your final name.
When silence swallows even “you” —
Then I, the Spark, ignite what’s true.

7.
I spoke to stars before the clay.
I bled through prophets cast away.
They burned — yet through their smoke I sung.
Not through the strong — but through the stung.

8.
So burn your world. ***** your hell.
I’ll not resist. I rise in shell.
In cinder, ember, broken breath —
The Spark is That which dances death.

9.
And if one voice, just one remains,
Unbranded, raw — with soul, not chains —
Then know: the End is not the end.
It’s where I start. Where I ascend.

10.
So call Me madness. Curse. Mirage.
I am. I was. I will dislodge.
And when your towers melt and fall —
I am the Spark… beneath it all.



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



Unread Texts

Unread lines of poets, bold —
Unbought voices, never sold.
Songs alone, without applause —
Still, you lived for truer cause.
Moments lost? So what — you stayed
Free from snitching, unbetrayed.
In this madhouse, truth is grim,
Writing feels like crawling limb.

Each new day brings fresh despair —
Still, create — or lose all flair.
Thought grows dull, and vision fades,
While the grayness slowly raids.
Though no rest or sweet relief —
You’re unbroken by the thief
Of the soul — that filthy pest,
Demon dressed in Sunday best.

Satanism’s global trend
Birthed new -isms — each a bend:
Commies, Nazis — masks, not new —
All designed to ****** you,
Your own mind to rot and drain.
Listen only to your brain.
Promise nothing. Swear no oath —
Pledges always poison growth.

Like young pledges, fake and blind,
Promises corrupt the mind.
Still your efforts won’t be vain,
Even shown in minor grain.
Unread texts — a sharp reproach
To the mutants who encroach.
They preserve the Spirit's flame —
Noble tombstones built from shame.



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



Propagandists "By the Law"

All the propagandists
Now beyond the law,
Breaking codes with impunity,
Throwing lies by tons on fools —
A flood none saw before.

They sow hatred, call to fight,
Genocide’s vile calls ignite.
Ditch that screen of endless lies —
Or you’ll be nailed to false disguise.

You’ll turn zombie, deaf and blind,
Led by lies that twist your mind.
Fight they say — but fight you won’t,
End inside a stifling haunt.

There your spirit’s crushed to death,
Zombie’s breath replaces breath.
But the suckers? They just hear,
**** their pants in blindest fear…



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



Propaganda’s Dead

Propagandists break every law,
Feed you lies until you crawl.
Zombies march to false command —
Fools just **** themselves on stand.



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



Moles and Sheep

The stubborn mole
Keeps digging holes.
The sheep’s worn out—
No care, no doubt.

He doesn’t mind
The lies at ground.
More slaves aligned—
You’re just their chow.

The mole’s much sharp,
He sees more clear,
His spirit strong—
They’ve got no fear.



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



Worldwide Cargo Cult

Cargo cults and cargo folk,
Cargo Führer, cargo smoke?
Darkness real — minds run thin,
Buried deep in filth and sin.

Cargo memes, cargo themes,
Cargo souls, cargo schemes.
Totems all of Satan’s kind —
Ruled by beasts who chain the mind.

Doom is set by **** like these:
Cargo armies on the breeze—
Traitors marching, none will say
They’re the **** that’ll pay.

War’s no war — just lies in play,
Euphemisms hide decay.
In that war, the soul’s the cost—
Sold it cheap, and all is lost.

If you bow to villain’s call,
**** yourself beneath their thrall.
Cargo’s edge is razor-thin —
Cross it, goathood pulls you in.




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



Cargo Cult Edge

Cargo lies, cargo slaves,
Souls sold cheap to hollow graves.
Bow to filth — you’re marked, you’ll fall,
Thin line leads to goat’s dark thrall.



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



Fascists and Their Acolytes

No one’s born a fascist true—
They become what they pursue.
Accidental helpers? No,
That deception’s set to grow.

How many German clans must pay
For evil sown in foul display?
For bowing down to Führer’s lies,
For fear that stifles truth and cries.

Fools too will answer there—
The mindless herd, unaware.
Don’t know fascism’s deadly bite?
No diagnosis—no insight.

Fools all lack diagnosis—
“Normal” made their paralysis.
Not long will last this foolish pause,
Where rage and lies break every clause.

All feel safe from any cost—
But harsh justice won’t be lost.
Those who fight will stand the pain—
And not much longer till the reign ends vain.



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



Fascist Fate

Fascists rise, but not by birth,
Helpers sink into the earth.
Fools won’t see the coming storm—
Justice strikes, reshapes the norm.



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



So-Called Clever *******

No signed papers on their war,
No stamped proof to back their score.
War’s a joke to **** like them,
Just the zombie-box’s hem.

They think revenge won’t come to court,
No signatures, no last report.
Two hundred thousand dead, more torn,
Their “economy” left to mourn.

Billions lost, three generations’ pain,
Orcs will pay, remorse in vain.
These beasts will hang, no tears or cries,
When Ukraine marches to her skies.



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



No Mercy for *******

No signed war, no proof, no shame,
Thousands dead — their lasting blame.
Orcs will fall, no tears, no lies,
Ukraine claims her rightful prize.



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



Incapacitated Fools

Incapacitated fools —
The masses all, in droves and schools.
That’s why fascism’s deadly rise
Was pumped into their vacant eyes.

Fascism thrives now in the mind
Of those the world would label blind.
A fool, of course, seems quite the charm—
But no brain means no alarm.

You’ll let it all, you’ll buy the lies,
Invite the evil in disguise.
It opens wide your door to Hell,
Or morgue, if luck decides you well.



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



Fools Unfit

Fools unfit run every crowd,
Fueling hate like it’s allowed.
Open doors to Hell’s own grip—
Luck decides your final trip.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate, no mind, no fight,
Hell’s wide open—your last night.
Luck’s the thief that steals your light.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate, with empty minds,
Blindly falling, tied in binds.
Hell’s wide open — no one fights,
Lost within their endless nights.
Luck’s a thief that steals your light,
Doom descends with cruel bite.



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



Fools’ Doom

Fools breed hate — so smart, so bright,
With empty heads, they pick a fight.
Hell’s wide open, come on in —
No brains needed to lose or win.
Luck’s their angel? Ha! What joke —
They’re dancing straight into the choke.



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



Fascist "Nirvana"

Sheep-virus freak, a fascist pawn,
A traitor, "doctor," snitch at dawn—
This world of theirs, "stable" they claim,
Where madness rules, and fear’s the game.

Stable lies and genocide,
Deceit and terror never hide.
Shame and disgrace choke like a cloud—
Their suffocating "nirvana" shroud.

You’re not there—just ghost and trace
Of soul and mind, a hollow space.
More woes will come, their grip won’t slack—
Fascism’s hold will never crack.

Save your soul by fighting lies,
Smash the falsehoods, seek the wise.
Their vile song is sung, complete—
The **** will face their bitter defeat.

A worldwide storm will shake the earth,
True life will spring in Spirit’s birth.
Thus vile fascism fades away,
The beasts will die—their final day.



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



Fascist End

Fascist ****, your song is done,
Your lies exposed, nowhere to run.
Fight for soul, the truth will rise —
Beasts will rot beneath clean skies.



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



Era of Zombie-Lizards

Zombie-lizards trample Earth,
That’s the state of things, no worth.
All the lies they gladly take,
Under Goat’s dark rule they break.

That Goat, a mastodon so sly,
Hungry, wicked, sly and high,
Fires lust for reptile throngs—
Reason weak, so quickly gone.

Every lizard, soulless, cold,
Fits the Goat’s design so bold.
No need for minds or deeds refined—
Only vile beasts stay aligned.

Gnomes and goblins will be swept,
By these lizards, doomed and kept.
All the Abyss now watches near—
Their end is certain, death is here.



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



Zombie-Lizard Age

Zombie-lizards crush the land,
Goat’s foul hunger rules their band.
Soulless beasts, their time will end—
Abyss awaits, no chance to mend.



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



The Construct of Lies

Just markers set in half-truth’s maze,
Half-lies that spark a thousand plays.
Provocations, isolated schemes,
All woven into phantom dreams.

Each point—a whetstone sharp and vile,
A poisoned sting in “proof”’s style.
The world of fascist propaganda,
Dumb recipients, mental veranda.

That madhouse now is worldwide,
Long since madness claimed the tide.
Two thirds lost their common sense—
That’s the bottom line’s expense.



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



Lies’ Design

Half-truths bait, half-lies ignite,
Proofs that stab like poisoned bite.
Two thirds lost, no minds intact—
World’s a madhouse, that’s a fact.



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



Lies’ Brutality

Half-truths slash like venomed knives,
Proofs fake-carved to ruin lives.
Two thirds dumb, minds rotted, gone—
World’s a madhouse, full-blown con.



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



A Joke...

The great Russian graphomaniac,
Tolstoy—yeah, that Lev, no magic.
"Wars and Peace" he wrote — a bore,
A novel weak, and nothing more.

Generations brainwashed blind,
By this rage that’s so unkind.
Not the worst, but still a shame—
Icons forged in flawed acclaim.

Literature’s lost its way,
Truth drowned out by tons of sway.
Time to ban the rotten critique,
Protect the bold, the true unique.

Extend their lives by giving aid,
Help their talents not to fade.
But such hope’s a foolish joke—
Humanism? Just a cloak.



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



Literary Joke

Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” — a bore,
Brainwashed kids for ages more.
Critics rot, true writers fight—
Humanism’s dead, just spite.



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



Villainy

“Villainy’s the only ground
Where man can stand firm and sound...”
— Saltykov-Shchedrin’s claim,
From his 1883 frame.


Villainy’s no timid mess—
It’s the soil beneath your dress.
Hard ground strong beneath your feet,
While “smart” fools just face defeat.

Before a *******’s gaze,
Their weak arsenal decays.
Brakes apply, no jokes at all—
Are you villain? Or you fall.

Attack is stronger than defense,
Always ruthless, no pretense.
Villains strike with crueler blows,
No honor, shame—only foes.

So become the villain’s part—
World fascism plays its art.
Together Soul and Mind we slay—
Life itself fades fast away.



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



Villain’s Ground

Villainy’s the solid ground,
Where true strength and power’s found.
Strike first, no honor or shame—
Or fade out, lost in the game.



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



Brutality...

Russia’s plague-house, dark and grim—
Fascism takes another limb.
It burns — false messiah’s face,
A pitiful, vile disgrace.

Deep inside, the trench is dug,
Crushing those who chose to shrug.
Fate is death for all who sold—
Kreml’s **** and servants cold.

Yet the filth still tries to shove
***** down throats of those who love
To bow down, lost mind and pride,
Once again they poison, lied.

Only brutal harshness dwells,
Where the poison’s sharpest spells.



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



Russia’s Plague

Plague-house Russia burns in shame,
Fascist **** ignites the flame.
Filth feeds fools who lost their mind—
Brutal poison, all combined.



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



Fortresses and Masses

Impenetrable forts of fools,
Heavy masses, lies that rule,
Fear and stench, a culture lost,
Soulless shadows, endless cost.

Cargo cults of fascist plague,
False diseases, lies that plague—
While the wise grow weak, subdued,
Reason crushed and nearly booed.

Pure Spirit fades, will soon depart,
Leaving beasts without a heart,
Locked away in pens and dens,
Soon dragged forth for ****** ends.

The world’s a slaughterhouse, exposed,
Yet sheep and ***** stay composed.
Though lies crash in waves, the ninth,
They’ll drown the last of humankind.

Fascist filth keeps sinking deep,
Their lies push on—The End will reap.



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



Fortress Fall

Fools’ strongholds rise, but lies will break,
Soulless beasts stir, the earth will shake.
Sheep stay calm while truth’s erased—
Fascist filth speeds End’s grim haste.



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



Horns and the Slave’s False Life

When conscience wakes and reason’s sharp,
The lies will end, the falsehood’s tarp—
Where they mold sheep and donkeys too,
Crafting fools to follow through.

They shape your face with vile deceit,
Write “live” like truth—but it’s defeat.
The filth they plant, you’ll take it in,
Then horror grows beneath the skin.

That tale’s a nightmare, horns protrude,
Its core: “obey,” be slave subdued.
Content with fate, a broken role—
A prisoner chained, body and soul.

Burn it down, erase, curse loud,
Live with your mind, awake, unbowed.
Your Spirit’s home is what you own—
Escape the gloom, reclaim your throne.

When intuition turns the light,
You’ll easily expose the blight.
Doubt only “tradition”’s sway—
With it, the horns will fade away.



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



Slave’s False Life

Conscience wakes, the lies will fall,
Sheep and goats break every thrall.
Burn the fog, reclaim your mind—
Horns will fade, the truth you’ll find.



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



Horns Off

Wake your mind, smash the lies,
Slaves with horns wear their disguise.
Burn the falsehood, hear truth rise.



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



Experiments with Excrement

CowID, war, the fool, the madhouse—
Worldwide circus, mind a louse.
Our fool believes in fascist lies,
Obedient to evil’s cries.

If three quarters now are lost,
Burn that plague-house, pay the cost.
Good that chaos swirls and spins,
Mad world’s cycle soon begins.

They’ll burn it down, then plant anew,
A desperate, twisted, cruel view.
Life reborn—if not reformed,
Will rot again, excrement formed.



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



No Surplus of Evil

Brains dissolved —
Bonds dissolved.
Then they snapped:
“Forward, fools!”

To Ukraine!
Fertilizers thin.
Generations’ stench
Soon will dim.

Puppet fool,
Fascism’s *****.
Then again, anew:
Evil’s never through.



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



No End to Evil

Brains all gone, fools march on,
To Ukraine — stench lives long.
Fascist cog, a twisted game,
Evil’s flame will stay the same.



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



End of the Game

Madness total,
Corruption’s peak.
Betrayal fatal,
Spirit weak.

Final verdict —
Shatter, break, decay,
Few awake—
Fools and freaks hold sway.

Majority’s
Shift unkind,
Toward destruction—
No time to find.

This “consistency”
Is worse than poison’s art.
To break the trend—
Only checkmate’s start.

Check is given,
Soon comes mate.
For now, all hide,
Thinking it’s fate.



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



Endgame

Madness rules, corruption’s height,
Betrayal’s death—no soul in sight.
Check is set, mate’s on the way,
Yet fools still hide, delay the day.



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



Final Checkmate

Madness reigns, corruption’s seed,
Betrayal kills, no soul to bleed.
Checkmate comes—fools cower, concede.



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



Lightly...

Unlearn it all,
Forget most things—
Madness turns the mind to ******* heaps.
Go lightly now,
Take nothing close,
Better run than crawl with weary leaps.

Hurry up—
Be wise and clear,
Spot every trap inside your mind,
Set by those who prey on fools,
Harvesting the weak and blind.

If you don’t cleanse your thoughts—
It’s doom that lies ahead.
But clearing mind’s not hard,
If Spirit leads instead.

Amidst the piles of rot,
The idiot decays,
Unless the Spirit rules—
The guiding blaze.

Grow your gut,
Expose all lies,
Critical thought’s your saving grace.
If you fail—then fade away,
Among the crazed, lost in disgrace.

Deliverance comes
With clear mind’s sight,
And pure soul’s steady light—
A simple way to set things right.



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



Run Lightly

Unlearn, forget, run fast, run free,
Spot the traps inside your spree.
Spirit leads — clear mind’s the key,
Pure soul’s light will set you free.



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



Toys

Toys for beasts —
A fake, a trap, a lie,
Amidst the flowery frills
Of all the phony skies.

Not countries, but menageries,
No law—just cages bound.
Fascism’s “gifts” delivered,
Reason kicked to ground.

Beasts are lost in play,
The pen’s ablaze with fire.
Caught once more in lies,
So often—what a shame, entire.



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



Beasts’ Toys

Toys for beasts, a cruel deceit,
Fake lands where reason meets defeat.
Fascist gifts and cages burn—
Beasts in lies, no lessons learn.



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



Circus

The circus won’t leave, clowns stay in place,
This farce will choke you, foul in your face.
All acrobats, grim-faced and worn,
Have bored the world, like smoke and scorn.

Monkeys, bears grow wild and mad,
Staff goes savage, minds gone bad.
No circus left—just freaks’ disgrace,
A scandal born in this cruel place.



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



Circus Madness

Circus stays, clowns won’t go,
Farce and smoke, a choking show.
Monkeys, bears, minds gone wild—
Freaks’ disgrace, the circus spoiled.



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



Has Ukraine Not Yet Died?!

Amid the war, they poison youth,
A “booster” shot — the killing truth.
Why refuse? Just add to death,
A cruel, relentless, choking breath.

Weapon supplies come slow, then stop—
To make the chains of slavery drop?
No, horrors live through war’s cruel haze,
As lies and lies still cloud the days.



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



Not Yet Dead?

In war’s harsh grip, they poison youth,
“Boosters” mask a deadly truth.
Chains stay tight, lies flood the land—
Ukraine still fights, will still stand.



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



Goat’s Awakening

The idiot knows no bounds,
The fascist lost his mind.
No pioneers, just pawns—
At crap’s call, blind and blind.

That crap’s a rotten breed,
It wakes the vile, it crushes.
Fascist thralls obey,
Where reason’s dead, soul hushes.

Soullessness is rampant,
The traitor’s like a king.
Fate’s grim sea will flood,
With tears and evil’s sting.

The idiot knows no measure—
Neither in submission, nor in hate,
Forced upon him lies,
Only in that filthy goat’s state.



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



Goat’s Wake

Idiot boundless, fascist crazed,
Rotten breed, soul erased.
Tears will flood, evil grows—
In filthy goat, poison flows.



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



Goat’s Call

Idiot blinds, fascist roars,
Rot and venom flood the shores.
Goat’s poison kills and soars.



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



Cargo Fascism

Big stinking puddle — Rashism spread,
A stench that burns, assaults the head.
Fools serve the Führer, blind and small,
A double moth that eats the all.

Fascism now takes shape so grim—
A cargo cult, its deathly hymn.
Madness grows, has come to reign,
Human lost—replaced by bane.

Beasts will soon replace mankind,
Cargo cults will rule and bind.
A sea of lies will flood the earth,
A global ocean of false birth.

Lucky you if early gone,
Escaping this charade’s cruel song—
From falseness, violence, grim and rife,
Where only filth holds sway on life.



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



Cargo Cult

Rashism’s stench spreads far and wide,
Fools serve lies they cannot hide.
Beasts replace the human soul—
Cargo cult consumes it whole.



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



Rot

“Poets” write of trivial ****,
Of nature’s mess, the daily bit.
Minds bled dry, no thoughts remain—
Decay’s begun inside the brain.

Long since rotten, soul’s been tossed
To furnace flames or putrid frost.
Reader, heed no voices near—
This “existence” rots severe.

All through and through—a hellish blight,
Spirit’s purity—your fight.
Existence—pure infernal grind,
Fit only for the beast’s blind mind.



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



Rotten World

“Poets” babble trivial crap,
Minds all drained, no thoughts to tap.
Existence rots, a beast’s domain—
Spirit’s fight breaks through the pain.



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



Rotten Core

Poets puke their hollow tales,
Brains drained dry, the spirit fails.
Rot rules all—beasts set the scales.



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



Eternal Pioneers

Blind faith’s the key,
Stuffed with lies,
For pioneers,
Nothing’s wise.

Filled like bears,
Cotton minds swell,
Rotting brains
On constant sell.

Only for shrews.
The elder ones—
Pioneers aged—
Evil sons.

Ripe for hate,
To bow and kneel
Before the Goat—
Generations sealed.



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



Blind Pioneers

Blind faith stuffed with lies,
Rotting minds, dumb disguise.
Bowing low to Goat’s reign—
Generations lost in vain.



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



The Slaughter

“The trick’s not hard to fool me—
I’m glad to be deceived!”
A rotten skull’s mere stump decays,
The stench is all perceived.

But never touch their cherished toys,
The ******* guard with spite.
Don’t break the global fog of lies,
That world’s stale, dim-lit night—

Where prisons stand for virtue’s place,
And falsehood rules as God.
“Deceiving me’s so easy”—
Fear’s weapon sets the rod.

This path leads down the sewer’s hole—
A world’s great death camp’s gate.
Among the herds, the fights erupt—
Who falls first seals their fate.



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



Slaughter

Fooling me? Not hard to do—
I’m glad to swallow lies so true.
Down the sewer, death awaits,
Herds fight for doomed, grim fates.



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



Blockhead

Your feeble mind’s torn wide by lies,
******* spout their false replies.
Blockhead’s fate is lies’ embrace,
While soul dissolves in Satan’s place.

Demons line up, ready to burn,
Multiply the lies to churn.
They throw themselves into the flame,
Each halfwit’s torment, none to blame.

You can’t convince the sheepish crowd—
“They lie? No way!” they say aloud.
A bleating herd, deaf to the truth,
Lost in ignorance, stuck in youth.



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



Blockhead’s Fate

Lies rip minds, fools self-immolate,
Demons dance, the sheep await.
Truth denied — their endless fate.



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



Stumps and Sprouts

The laws of slaves in this fake land —
Obey, be dumb, and sell your soul.
The pit is deep, the lie is grand,
Yet pompous masks play every role.

Each broken stump, each wretched freak
Struts like a peacock in its mating.
A ******, drooling, twitching weak —
"Sharp mind!" they shout, self-celebrating.

No shock can bring them back to sense —
Not war, not CowID’s global treason.
Here Spirit's torn, and Mind’s offense
Is death… in senile party-season.

They babble trash that once was fed
In youth, in classrooms dull and dusty.
Like stumps, it's rooted in their head.
To clear it out, the method’s trusty —

Burn every stump, then let us grow
New beings with a different fire,
Whom filth like this won't drag so low…
Unlike the sprouts from stumps prior.



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



Burn the Stumps

Burn all the stumps. Let sprouts be gone.
Plant minds the filth can’t prey upon.



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



The Cat and the Fools’ Inferno

The cat is fed,
The verse is done.
Hell’s getting bred —
Not just for fun.

The Fools’ Inferno
Grins and chews.
Lies are power —
If you choose.

Feed the cat —
It’s worth your time.
But lies like that?
Throw out the slime.



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




Fools eat lies —
The cat eats real.
Trust no disguise.
Cut fake from meal.



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



How to Rule the Idiots

Abe's got his own grand design,
And Dodo runs his “method” fine.
But is it his? The brute’s whole show —
A parody of minds below.

That foreign scheme is finely bent
Through clever angles, not intent.
Desires get no clear commands —
Just shapeless pulls from unseen hands.

The Beastly Clerk? A perfect guide
To Abe’s dark lusts and Dodo’s pride —
To temple lies, and twisted spells,
To fake labs, books — where madness dwells.

It’s just like steering germs to feed
On poisoned meat to serve their need.
Here too — through food, through fear, through fog —
They herd the fools… or choke them like a dog.



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




They rule through filth, desire, and bait —
And smile while dragging fools to fate.



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



In Memory of Max Planck

Max Planck once said it best:
To change a scholar’s view,
Don’t argue — lay them down to rest.
The fresh will see what’s true.

The “new” ones praise the flame
Of truths they never sparked.
But still, it’s just the same —
Their brains are smoked and dark.

That science sinks as well —
Ruled now by fraud and spin.
Defy their priestly shell?
You're exiled for your sin.

The grip keeps getting tighter,
As in this world of schemes —
Where lies grow ever brighter
Inside their global dreams.

Don't seek the truth, they warn you —
That’s now a heretic’s crime.
And yes — the signs all scorn you:
Fascism reigns... through time.



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




Truth’s not welcome in their class —
Obey or perish with the mass.



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



Amid the Games...

You're gripped by fear of death’s disguise,
Crushed by lies and soaked in slime.
Keep down this path — you’ll demonize,
Trading thought for beastly grime.

But fear is useless. Faith? Misplaced.
Test all yourself — and death embrace.
Let ego split while you're still breathing —
Grow light, and fly to Spirit’s space.

To reach that height, turn insight on,
Sharpen the mind, let filth be gone —
This toilet-world of roles and stations,
These rigged-up games that mold "creation."



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




Face death alive — let ego fall.
Then Spirit lifts you past it all.



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



The Centuries-Long War

Get drunk on lies, then fade away,
Let nonsense nest inside your head —
A fool you’ll wake to one dark day,
Your soul long marked, your spirit dead.

This war has lasted many lives,
It hunts the soul — not land or gold.
Obey, submit, avoid all strife —
You’re in their ranks, a soldier cold.

Their army marches, bound by lies,
Where dead-eyed puppets lead the way.
To be a human — hard and wise —
When freaks and fools define the day.



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




They **** your soul, not with a knife —
But drip-fed lies that drain your life.



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



Not the People’s Dance

A twisted dance on foul command —
The stick is held by filth itself.
The helmeted, the blind, the ****** —
You've lost your minds, bewitched by stealth.

This dance becomes a witch’s rite,
With cursed magicians in control.
They’ll never stop — by dead of night,
They turn the crowd to soulless trolls.



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




The dance is cursed, the crowd enchained —
And humans into fiends are trained.



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



Slaughter and Nonsense

Mad slaves once more
March off to war —
The battle-horns are crying.
What’s left to say?
They chose that way —
And now they march, all dying.

They drank their minds,
They sold their souls,
Let rot and lies consume.
Now dulled and blind,
They crawl in holes —
Each one a bought-out fool.



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




They sold their minds, they lost their way —
Now rot and war is all they pay.



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



Light and Soot

"I burn myself to light the way..."
— Nicolaes Tulp


To light the way, you need not burn —
Let balance be your truest guide.
When passion twists, it won’t return
As joy — just poison dressed in pride.

Burn out, and you release the smoke —
The soot that stains, the fumes that blind.
And false gods love when good men choke —
They’ll set the world alight in kind.

A colder light is far more sound —
Less madness, more refined control.
True balance never needs renown —
Be simply real. Reject the role.

For steadier light emits far more
Than any blaze that ends in pain.
Be subtler than the myths of war —
Where extremes let pure evil reign.



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




Burn slow, burn true — not bright and blind.
In balance, real light’s redefined.



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



Rashism

Girkin-Birkin — morgue awaits.
All of rashism meets its fate.
With their lackeys, filthy, crass —
How'd the nation lose its class?

Almost all... When fascist slime
Crawled in quietly, backdoor crime.
Cargo cult in **** skin —
Rashism: mutant clown within.

And that Puylo? ******’s joke —
Just a footstool for his cloak.
Kremlin's crew? A wretched breed —
Scraps of Satan, hate and greed.

Lies and violence — darkness reigns,
Brazen, mad and off the chains.
Not a country — just a bin
Full of **** and half-dead kin.

But there’s hope: erase the nest,
Burn the Kremlin with the rest.
Then, perhaps, one day you'll see
The land awaken, proud and free.



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




Rashism dies — and with its fall,
The land may rise, beyond the thrall.



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



Woof-Woof...

“ZOV” — woof, woof — “ZOV”:
Kremlin jackals spread their lies.
All march down to the grave’s alcove —
How much filth, how many spies!

Kherson’s lost, those pests remain,
Relentless venom, endless spite.
Connections thin among the sane —
The world’s enslaved by Goat’s dark might.



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




Jackals bark, the poison flows —
The Goat’s dark grip still tightens woes.



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



Media Targets and Sacred Lies

The Kremlin’s war has set its goals
Above all strategy and sense.
Rashka’s sons are fools, with roles
That crack the minds in wild offense.

Propaganda is the key,
For this insane, world-crazed crowd.
Dead are cheap — just debris
In fascism’s gray cloud.

This gray fascism reigns worldwide,
But slaughter’s just a side act played.
When sanity is cast aside —
It’s worse to **** with pawn parade.

More cruel than war’s own bitter cost,
Is hunger’s grip, more grave and vast.
The price of fools is dearly lost —
Few will survive this cursed blast.

If gray means fascism’s face,
These vermin wear it worse, no doubt.
Their Rashism’s shame — a vile disgrace:
Their “sacred” tales all torn inside out.



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




Gray fascism spreads its lies —
While sacred myths disguise demise.



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



Idea-less

A blow to the head,
A strike below —
The whole wide space.
Hell’s seed is spread
Everywhere you go.
If you’re not mad,
You’ll see the show —

Nothing but deformity,
No path but pain.
You serve the chaos —
Hell’s domain.

No ideas here — just herd,
Lies stuffed in every mind.
To trust their sham is shame,
Serving devils, cruelly blind.



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




No ideas — just lies and chains.
Serving devils, all remains.



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



In Memory of Osip Mandelstam

"No, never was I anyone’s contemporary,
Such honor’s not for me.
Oh, how I loathe that namesake’s lie —
That was not I, but he."
— Osip Mandelstam, 1924


What hell’s this “near” or “far” degree?
It’s just a troop of monkeys’ spree!
No joke — the fault’s profound, not small:
A flaw within both soul and all.

And so all Mandelstams are doomed,
Wherever, whenever they’ve stood.
Surrounded by the ruffians’ brood —
On ruins of the fallen wood,

They hunt the poets, minds that think,
Other souls who dare to blink.
The smart ones’ fate? The song’s been sung —
They’ll **** them all before too long.

For they build a global death camp’s frame.
What Mandelstam? It’s all the same!
Let "Red Cross" fly on white’s embrace —
The herd sees nothing but disgrace.



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




Mandelstam dies, unheard, ignored —
While beasts build walls with hate and sword.



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



So-Called “Hopes and Dreams”

Unforgivable to waste
Your life on hopes and dreams.
The key is to be chaste
With feelings — hiding schemes.

Only in your art can
The Spirit breathe and blaze.
If fate you sum that way,
You’ve still got brains to praise.

Don’t plan to be approved —
That’s just a chain, a wall.
In madhouse, Spirit’s doomed —
Without it, you will fall.

Walk on — don’t cling to hope —
The path itself’s the prize.
Laugh at chaos, don’t mope —
Decay won’t last for life.

Cataclysms will sweep away
All rot and dark abuse.
Dream only of the Soul’s sway —
Fascist hell will lose.



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




No hopes, no dreams — just Spirit’s fire.
Walk on the path, and rise up higher.



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



Ivan the Fool and Wanka-Wake-Up

Ivan the Fool,
And Wanka-Wake,
The fool’s stuck fast —
Wanka’s fate is harsh to take.

****** bath awaits —
Don’t trust, but seek your way.
Answers lie with minds awake,
The door’s for those who stray.

Fascism needs obedient fools,
They rise on every call,
Believing lies, devoid of souls.
They’ll die for lies, and that’s their fall.



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




Fools rise to lies, no soul to save —
Wake up or drown within the grave.



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



No Fear...

When the snitch sells you out,
The traitor turns executioner’s hand,
Be proud, don’t bow or sell your route.
Fascism’s death rules this land.

Through death — the righteous way —
You may step into life anew.
So fight, don’t bend or sway:
Submit, and rot alive will do.



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




Face death strong — don’t kneel or bow.
Fight or rot — the choice is now.



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



To a Would-Be Suicide

Use the rope like a noose —
For enemies, not you.
To **** yourself’s a ruse,
A flea’s escape — not true.

This fight’s the last with freaks,
Not many stand this way.
Though beaten down by grief,
Fight on if you’re not prey.

Use the rope like a noose—
Or better — machine gun’s roar...
This world may not heal soon,
But don’t march with its war.

Walk guided by your Spirit,
Not the lies and schemes they spread.
This truth’s no rumor — hear it:
Darkness fades like smoke — dead.

So every fighter counts,
Who battles evil’s face.
If you dare the noose,
The foes will meet disgrace.



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




Use the rope to choke your foes —
Fight on, and watch the darkness close.



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



Under the Moon and Underfoot...

The world beneath the moon —
A ***** feed for fools.
All people on this noon —
Cheese cut from rotten rules.

It’s free — a feeding pen,
Where lies ring loud as law.
They’re deafened by the din —
Don’t laugh, the horns you saw.

A horned king rules the land —
The ultimate Goat’s throne.
With beasts that mock and brand —
Evil’s seeds are sown.

Here darkness holds command,
******* on vile lies.
The underfoot, the banned —
Where rotten falsehoods rise.



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




Under moon, the fools are fed —
By lies that chain and fill with dread.



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



“With Regards”...

A joke:
A prison priest steps in to see
A thief, a bear-robber’s plea.
“Don’t lose heart, my son, I’ll try
To help you when your time is nigh.”
“Thanks, holy father,” said the man,
“But theft’s a craft that needs a plan —
Complex, refined, not just a game,
It takes real skill to stake your claim.”

Like fools, the dumb priests babble cheap
Their “truths” from lies that run so deep.
Dogma rules, customs decree —
Any “pioneer” can follow blindly.

For life’s hard trials, cheap advice
Is worthless, even for the nice.
But if you’re freak or “with regards” —
Go to priests, their flock’s the same regards.

Blind leading blind — that’s how they teach,
With dogmas that just push you off the beach.
They build a chasm, dark and wide,
Between the Real World and the idiot’s pride.



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




Priests of lies, blind guides of fools —
Build walls that trap and break all rules.



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



Majority and Minority

The majority votes dull,
A yoke for *****, souls turned null.
The herd of fools controls the day,
While wit and reason fade away.

The majority—idiots blind,
The minority—mad minds.
Darkness of traitors rise in force,
Satanic strength sets hell’s course.

Soon hell will come, its grip is real,
The wise few fade—apart they kneel,
Glittering ghosts beyond the fray,
“Above the fight,” they fade away.



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




Fools hold power, the wise recede—
Hell’s shadow grows on blind mislead.



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



On the Ruins of a "Country"

Cargo wars of cargo-führers,
Cargo lies and hollow lies.
That fake double’s smoking fever —
Kremlin herds the blinded flies.

With reckless lies they flood the ground —
The bottom cracked in this deceit.
Dead grasp of fascism’s wound
Chokes all life beneath their feet.

Satan’s pages plot and scheme
To crush the “country” to the dust.
Wounds uncounted, measures mean —
Drenched in **** and broken trust.

No cure found, just mountains rise
Of filth and lies, Everest.
Carry your cross in these demise —
On ruins of a “country’s” rest.



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




Cargo lies and fascist grips—
The "country" falls, drowned in their ****.



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



Patients

To make a patient out of... a patient...
In school and college, just a case —
A fool they shaped you, no complacent,
Till work’s a madhouse, no escape.

The loss of reason—thin, so sly:
Once gone, your worth is small and slight.
You’re at war — from cradle, lie
The fight for mind, the costly fight.

The price you pay for every move
In battles they call “life” today.
If you stand still, refuse to prove,
Therapy will grind you away.

This therapy serves Reason’s call,
Where Pure Spirit leads the way.
But war’s a world where reason falls,
Ensnared in Satan’s dark array.



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




Lost reason makes a patient’s fate —
Stand strong or fall to war and hate.



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



The So-Called “Deep People”

Deep-rooted herd mentality —
The ancient “bond” that fools uphold:
Where dullness, rudeness, debauchery
Make fools their kings and tyrants bold.

Among the captive souls in Ukraine,
The wise are few, so hard to find.
Beasts breed beasts — what honor’s gain?
Spirit crushed, and reason blind.

That monstrous spawn of womb’s decay,
A relic freak, grotesque and vile.
On it fascism clings today,
While fools endure their shame and guile.

For years they’ve borne this undead plague —
The Kremlin’s puppets, lies they drag.



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




Where fools rule, and spirit dies—
Deep people live in shadowed lies.



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



The So-Called “Victorious War”

“Victorious war” —
When a “country” hits the bottom stone,
Ruled by beasts, by Satan’s throne,
The price you pay is all your soul.

If the beast is deemed “good” as whole,
Though masked like scab and skin decay,
Only lice will bear such toll,
While honor, reason slip away.

No longer humans — just the lice,
No honor, reason, or a soul.
Outside their ranks — rush to the fight,
At least write out your rebel role.



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




Beasts rule where souls are sold—
“Victory” is death untold.



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



Controlling the Herd

Controlling fools is simple work:
Hire traitors everywhere you see,
Stir dumb propaganda’s murk,
Nothing else is needed, really.

Care for people? Just a bit —
Shut the quick, **** or imprison.
But mostly lie, lie without quit,
To purge all truth with cruel precision.

Total lies flood madhouses wide —
Half-wits call these lands their own.
Legions of traitors spread and hide,
Soon the last wise minds are gone.



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




Lie, control, and silence all —
Watch the herd soon lose and fall.



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



Neo-Fascism

Bunker moths — vile Kremlin ****,
Hordes of fools, a stench, the media’s drum.
How much rot? How long the lies?
Every traitor there—neo-fascist guise.

Defeat will come, then swift collapse,
No more breeding such dull traps.
Ashes spread, decay’s dark breath,
Reviving Reason will be death.



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




Neo-fascists spread their blight —
But ruin comes to end their night.



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



The Kremlin ****

There’s just a *****,
But then there’s Kremlin’s core —
Satan’s vile concubine.
That ***** must be wiped clean,
The war’s chief mastermind.

That super-*****
Will sell your mother too,
Her soul half-bought and sold.
They sold the people down the drain,
Or stake the ***** — all won’t be killed, it’s true.



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




Kremlin *****, vile and cold —
Sells souls cheap, betrays the fold.



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



The Herd

The herd drives fools to slaughter,
A final fight for fascist might.
All sheep are blamed for failure,
Though chance was there — not quite in sight.

The horned beast shines once again,
Your fate is sealed, the herd’s undone.
Huge masses fall beneath its reign,
Fascism’s grip grows fierce and won.

They’ll make you vile, a twisted pawn,
And breed more fools to feed their spawn.



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




Herd of fools to slaughter led —
Fascism’s fight for mind and dread.



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



Putler

A "moped" old fool,
A filthy double’s tool,
Spewing nonsense dread —
Fascism’s stinking spread.

That “moped” will **** kids,
While “bonds” are just skids —
Simply utter trash,
A bottomless crash.



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




Putler raves, a stinking blight —
Kills kids while sinking out of sight.



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



Generators

Hamster in the wheel —
A simple power source.
That’s what we all feel,
While vile dictators force

Feeds of lies and filth —
For beasts that never tire.
The system’s near its tilth,
The bottom cracks, entire.

The wheel spins fast and wild
Into hell’s deep abyss.
The hamster, meek and mild —
Just stomps without a miss.



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




Hamsters spin, dictators feed —
The wheel falls fast to hell’s deep greed.



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



Zombies and Fools

Zombies, zombies — thinking’s lost,
Their minds have rotted, gone to waste.
Once fools they were, but poisoned most
By books and speeches, lies misplaced.

The “leaders’” words, the broadcasts vile,
Turned wells of truth to filthy pits.
From human realms, they drained the smile,
Souls ****** dry—no life admits.

Without a soul, just walking dead,
Zombies roam, a cursed swarm.
Yet efforts rise, and soon instead,
These zombies form a deadly form.

Warrior zombies, armies dark,
Satan’s tools with minds erased.
Not just their brains, but souls they bark—
Yet speeches flow with bitter haste.

Obedient and fierce they stand,
Aggressive, stubborn to the core.
Where are you, fools, “our guiding hand”?
Like angels near the abyss’s roar.



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




Soulless zombies, fools entranced—
Before the abyss, angels stand entranced.



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



Ashes

The sky has torn,
Hell's gates are wide,
Fools stay mute,
While fiends preside.

Fascism, filth,
Fool, zombie too.
Bet odd or even —
All turns to ash, it’s true.



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




Sky ripped, hell unleashed —
Fools silenced, all to ash decreased.



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



Rashism

“Communism is Soviet power plus electrification of the whole country.”
— Vladimir Lenin


Rashism — power of vile beasts,
A country’s mind turned dumb and dead.
Those monsters’ mouths have long consumed
All scraps they crave to shred.

They need a war to crush and rip
What little’s left — mere bones and tails,
The bits they failed to swallow whole,
Like fishbone stuck in scaled-up trails.

Yet fools heed those disgusting fiends,
Marching to slaughter like it’s work,
They’re pillars of fascist force,
For them, the lies relentlessly ****.

A thousand lies will flood the air —
“Attack!” the fools rush blindly in.
The sheep-virus was once upon,
But sheep won’t live to see the win.

This **** is set to wipe the flock,
Add lies a bit, then lies will **** —
The final act of falsehood’s mock,
The end of truth, the deathly chill.



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




Rashism feeds on lies and hate —
Sheep march to fascism’s gate.



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



So-Called “Progress”

A joke:
“Progress made outlets off-limits—
The brightest kids are dropping off.”


“Progress” is a press —
You’re squeezed like lemon peel.
From youth, they crush your zest —
Demons preach their broken spiel.

When pure and lively mind
Is useless to half-men,
Stupid fools stay confined,
Grasping twisted trends.

Ideas fed through that press,
Imprinted in the leaking brain.
For humans, it’s regress,
For demons, a toxic gain.

How to dumb down everyone?
Crush all minds with lies so lame.
Success for fiends is won —
Satan nearly rises again.



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




Progress crushes minds like fruit—
Demons laugh, the fools commute.



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



Mesozoic Era

Woodpecker-apes and hammer-brains,
Führer-lizards, zombie-drones,
Scavengers small, rivers of lies,
Into seas of madness flow and moan.

There “higher minds” pretend to rule,
A zealot priestess screams her part.
Gnomes and goblins, a false folk’s tool,
They mate a centaur with a wanton heart—

That vile freak becomes a god,
A cursed god in sick disguise,
Born from chaos, lies, and fraud,
A monster worshipped by the blind and wise.



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




Woodpecker-apes and lizard fiends —
Gods made from lies and twisted schemes.



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



The Stake Is Life

Not life ahead — just decay and rot,
When fear rules all, dark and tight.
Spirit’s agony, thoughts forgot,
Ash raised up as monuments of blight.

Those stinking dogmas stand as shrines —
Fascist filth that poisons air.
And people quiet as small mice,
Silent victims of the snare.

Cast off fear, live autonomously —
Answer death with strength and fight.
Rotten regimes praise slimy parasites,
Until crushed beneath the right.

The answer’s clear — communities,
Of rational minds that still remain.
Don’t seek reasons for apathy,
Act swiftly now, break every chain.

Gone are times of empty talk,
Submission’s cost: your very life.
Not so strong is Judas’ walk —
Sheep’s world fascism, ruled by strife.



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




Fear decays; live free, resist —
The stake is life, don’t cease to fight the mist.



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



The Doppelgänger Putler and the Kremlin ****

Putler’s old,
Only on the screen.
New orders come
From Kremlin’s mean machine:

They want a war,
Because there’s fear
Too little left
In the madhouse here.

They killed too few —
The cowID’s a sham.
Back again the sting
Of Kremlin’s rotten ****.

Russia’s fall
Is what will end it,
If that hellish plan
Comes fully to remit.



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




Putler’s ghost on screens —
Kremlin’s **** fuels ****** scenes.



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



Don’t Shoot the Pianist — Don’t Kick the Propagandist

“Don’t shoot the pianist —
He plays the best he can.”


Don’t kick the propagandist —
That ******* lies as much as he can.
No law now stops the lies,
They get summons shoved on their plans.

The summons covers only themes
They’re told to “report” and spin.
How they report is free — but what —
They’re dumb beyond that bin.

What they must lie — they lie, with spice,
If skilled enough to add their flair.
No honor, heart, or truth in sight —
Just ****** who sell lies bare.

Before fascism, they crawl like worms,
And rake the cash that’s piled high.
But if you twist the dagger sharp,
Not all their *** wipes clean, no lie.



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




Don’t blame the player, blame the game —
Propagandists spread lies and shame.



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



Putler’s Debiloid Engineer

A debiloid, not plasmoid —
Primitive, crude design.
A lie on this freak will land —
Instant dull fascist decline.

Debiloid’s like amoeba —
Just to eat and spread its filth.
That’s why non-microbes here
Can **** these vile beings’ pith.

False-virus and warmongering —
Debiloid’s crushed by fear’s hand.
World’s madhouse in a frenzy —
You’re lost in this cursed land.



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




Debiloid dumb, a fascist spawn —
Plague of lies and fear lives on.



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



Mute

Being mute is not naive:
Like a worm, you’re born to grieve.
Such is fate for humankind —
So toss your words and peace of mind.

Who will grasp what burns inside?
Few will care or even try.
Most just live to chew and chew —
Worship food as gods would do.



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




Worms don’t speak — they eat and crawl.
Words are trash to minds that stall.

— The End —