Clara and Karl
Karl and Clara—
Fools, but paired.
Faithful, hopeful,
Yet impaired.
Building dreams
Through storm and night,
Where dark and hate
Suppress the light.
Clara nags him,
Mocks and scolds,
Molds him into
What she holds—
A man who's tamed,
By her revised,
Trapped beneath
Her sharp disguise.
Karl's no more—he lost the game,
Married wrong and took the blame.
-------------------------
Cockroach Race
Masses keep striving through falsehood and lies,
Chasing illusions with blind, empty eyes.
What is the goal? Just deception again—
Years lost to labor and struggle in vain.
Then come new targets, with fraud at their core,
Shifting the game like they’ve done times before.
Each generation keeps playing it wrong,
Racing ahead to belong and belong.
"First" means you're last, yet they run to the front,
Fearing the shame of a lowly affront.
Honor and conscience are left in the past—
Trifles discarded, too fragile to last.
The race nears its end, and the track’s set aflame,
Burning away this absurd, endless game.
Change is upon us, the sun makes it clear—
No room for roaches; their end has drawn near.
-------------------------
Trivial Rot
Trifles burn like caustic lies,
Eating souls until they’re dry.
Fear and falsehood claim their prize—
Rotting Bedlam swarms the sky.
Madness reigns, the world’s a fair
Where the petty lead the blind.
Like a plague beyond repair,
Faking nations fall in line.
That same plague infects the mind,
Branded CowID to be shown.
Hidden masters rule mankind,
Dragging all beneath the stone.
Fools obey and fools believe—
Most are eager for their chains.
Filth and ruin won’t deceive—
Vermin’s rule is all that reigns.
-------------------------
Original Sin
Gullibility's a blight,
Worse than any foe in sight.
Model citizen, so keen—
Tell them lies, they serve the scene.
Mind shut down and conscience dead,
They obey with blinded tread.
Gullibility, since birth,
Is the sin that doomed the earth.
-------------------------
"Roses" of Satanism
Roses, tears, and threats entwine,
Lies and whips in grand design.
Masks and poses, fear and haze,
Shadows twist in mirrored maze.
Madness swirls in tangled streams,
Sodom’s roses draped in death.
Rotting souls, decaying dreams,
Choking on their final breath.
Madness, sickness, minds decayed,
Empty shells in hollow bliss.
Outward—hope, so bright displayed,
But Satanic roses kiss.
-------------------------
Editing and "Culture"
Editing cuts with a frown,
Culling the best, shutting it down.
Not a hack? Then screw their game—
Their culture is a sheep to tame.
Harsh? But war and CowID showed
Exactly how the story goes.
Few stand tall, the rest just flow—
The world, in sum, is less than Low.
-------------------------
Not venality
Monet, Renoir—
Did they chase gold,
Or let pure light
In art unfold?
Corruption is rot,
Yet stand and fight—
Serve truth and light,
Though lost to night.
-------------------------
Family Crash
A family's wreck—its cause is plain,
Kids born of past delights now pay.
That wreck’s their burden, marked by pain—
"Success!" they hear from day to day.
-------------------------
Doubt
"To doubt is to show reverence for truth."
—Ernest Renan
The mindless herd repeats, on cue,
A set of phrases, dull and plain.
But doubt can tear their world in two—
Their empty chants would be in vain.
To plant a doubt in such a mass
Is near impossible—why try?
Their world is built on lies, alas,
For truth would make their small minds die.
And should you speak, the blind will fight—
Truth’s fate is bleak in such a land.
But if you never doubt what’s "right",
Then shame on you—you misunderstand.
-------------------------
Museum’s Spirit?
Like a crypt…
Walls are cold.
Gallery—
A painter, old,
Blind with rage,
Mind decayed.
Light's not caged—
It's self-conveyed.
Let it shine
Deep inside!
Call the blind:
"Wake with pride!"
Shape the core,
Dare to fight!
Twist the "wrong"—
But keep it right!
-------------------------
Fierce Demise
Dissenting minds—but none to think,
"Soul’s deep urges"—soulless cries.
We freeze like systems on the brink,
Drowned in gigabytes of lies.
We fail to grasp, yet pass it down,
So children grow still more unwise.
Forever lost in filth we drown—
False hopes and demons’ thin disguise.
No heart, no mind—this plague has spread,
A few escaped, the rest obey.
We bow with ease, our wills near dead,
Too used to crawling to dismay.
On bended knees, we wait in vain—
What’s left to come? The final breath.
No hymn will reach the wrathful flame—
Armageddon spawns Fierce Death.
-------------------------
Toxic "Culture"
"At least bacterial cultures can be seen under a microscope."
—Jadwiga Rutkowska
I stocked up scopes—both micro, stetho,
Telescopes to aid my quest.
I sought for culture—found but echoes
Of lies and filth the germs expressed.
Fake virtues mask a foul regime,
Where fascists play the righteous role.
A second layer—hell’s own scheme,
A lid of brass to cloak it whole.
They'll seal the world—farewell, "refinement"!
I searched in vain, and here it ends.
No foolish bullet brings confinement—
Armageddon kills, my friends.
-------------------------
Economic Cattle
Market games—a grand disguise...
How to yoke the herd so nice,
Make it walk into the chain,
Thinking it’s their rightful gain?
Oh, so simple—reshape all,
Craft a world where slaughter stalls
Seem removed (but wars suffice),
Turn the market into vice.
Choice is scarce—so grab the yoke,
Drag your kin to stay afloat.
Step inside the penned-up toil—
Earn your fodder, drown in oil.
-------------------------
Sieve
"With most new acquaintances, our first thought is whether they may be of use to us; and if they are not, then for most people, once they realize this, that person becomes nothing."
—Arthur Schopenhauer
I walk—meet nothing on my way,
Then more of nothing—endless rows.
The world’s a sieve, where few can stay,
The rest fell through, lost far below.
Those who could shake this void of spite,
Who saw the roots of all decay,
Were cast aside—denied the right
To live, not use and throw away.
We've learned too well this hollow game,
And so the sieve expands its hole.
Few strings remain, yet all the same,
They, too, will vanish with the whole.
-------------------------
Infernal Sumo
The "sumo champs" have seized the ring,
Pushed the rest beyond the line.
Yet the fallen, wavering,
Claim forgiveness—lost in mind.
Fat and shameless, crude and sly,
Rules the ring with pompous glee.
Thinkers? Worthless. Question why?
"Skinny flies" aren’t meant to be.
Circle Nine—or is it lower?
Does it matter? Hard to tell.
Those outside grow weak, sink slower
In the fat ones' lying hell.
-------------------------
Diagnosis
Is the world a whining wreck,
Or a doctor telling true?
Drunks and fools—just check the specs—
Three in four. The math is crude.
A simple test, a dumb Cow-ID,
Unmasked the minds—exposed the show.
Even the doctor feels defeated...
The world’s near nothing. Now we know.
-------------------------
Hell’s Despair
"This world is the work of some devil who called creatures into being just to savor their torment."
—Arthur Schopenhauer
So bleak, so hollow,
Disgraced from the start.
A wretched creator,
A slave in his heart.
The traitors rise higher,
Deception rules minds,
The blind led by liars,
All twisted in kind.
They fight one another—
Their anguish must flow,
To feed their dark master,
Corrupting below,
Instilling pure fury,
Instilling pure woe.
-------------------------
Filling Minds with Utter Nonsense
"The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled."
Plutarch, 1st century AD
They pour and fill—what do they make?
Just hollow shells—a soulless fake.
But flames? They smother them from birth,
Extinguishing the soul’s true worth.
A flood of nonsense—pure deceit,
The poison spreads, a vile conceit.
Through screens and speakers, lies take hold—
Your soul turns ash, your heart grows cold.
So cleanse yourself, don’t heed their cries,
Let truth shine bright within your eyes.
Protect your flame—don’t let it drown
In filth that’s poisoning the town.
The stench of fascism now reigns,
Corrupting hearts, enslaving brains.
And those who serve its twisted will
Are nothing more than cowards still.
-------------------------
Not a Peasant’s...
Open field—
A page so white.
Mind unsealed,
Clear and bright.
Plowed-up land—
Dust and blight.
Spirit’s hand
Grasps but write.
-------------------------
Turning a Prison into a Pen
"You don’t see the bars, because the prison is the whole world."
—David Icke
The world’s a cage, and people here are blind,
Forgetting where the Mind’s true limits lie.
And artificial troubles were never unrefined—
Distractions made to keep thoughts running dry.
Oblivious, they bow to shallow fears,
Ignoring what the Spirit dares to tell:
To rot among the filth for endless years,
Or rise and fight with fury, bold and fell.
This prison breaks when Consciousness ignites,
When intuition keeps the Dark at bay.
Or else, like sheep led off to slaughter’s sights,
You'll watch the Beasts turn bars to fenced-in hay.
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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