“Cognitive” Onanism
So much clutter, distraction, deceit —
A circus of facts, all devoid of the core.
Where cretinous chatter and buzzwords compete,
They fog up the mind ever more.
Fake science keeps silence where truth should ignite:
You are spirit — a flame, not a shell.
But smothered in trivia, buried in blight,
The essence gets lost in their hell.
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They teach you the fog, not the flame —
Forget who you are. That’s their game.
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"Upbringing" — a pile of habits,
Rituals wrapped in moral jackets.
In this rotten world, to dare
Just means bumps and blank despair.
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Dare to rise? You’ll just get bruised —
That's how slaves are mass-produced.
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Gutta-percha men,
Involution served on plates,
Slugs devour filth and lies,
Chanting "Allah’s will dictates."
“Submit, believe in God,
And curb your restless mind —
All answers lie within the books,”
A dish from Hell defined.
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Prince of This World
A hot-dog god,
A king "two in one,"
Harsh and cold,
The madhouse’s son.
The madhouse devours —
Shit and lies.
— Like cattle, folks? —
Multiply fear, despise.
He’s master of lies,
In masks, he’s skilled.
To serve him is
Shame — a cursed kill.
The cursed kill comes —
Grab the cash flow!
— How to be cattle? —
Accept the lies, the woe.
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Doclets — Mengele Nervously Smokes
Here’s the CowID scum —
No shame runs deeper.
Fake AIDS warm-up —
Tolerance to the creeper.
Next come the pests,
All kinds of plagues,
They’ll take it all — CowID
Seems bliss in their cages.
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The Poet Sometimes Raves
The poet sometimes runs with nonsense —
The rhyme leads far off track.
If choking in the stench around you,
A touch of madness won’t crack.
In madness, all the world’s absurd,
When total idiot’s reign
Becomes the norm, and wicked times
Are measured by Satan’s stain.
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“A Hard Nut of Knowledge”?
A schnitzel of "knowledge," laced with lies,
You eat the poison deep inside —
You're just a pawn where hatred flies,
Where vile beasts breed and multiply.
The mind’s a nut that takes a blow,
From heavy lies it cracks and breaks.
The more you “know,” the more you owe —
For love’s a thing your heart forsakes.
Simplicity with peasant’s mind,
And vision born within the heart —
Unlike the “knowledge” of the blind,
Is what makes love a true art.
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Total Madness and the Poet
To die a poet—
No greater bliss,
Than not to bow
To all the abyss,
To leave a mark
With furious fire,
Though nerves may snap,
And earth conspire—
If burden not,
Then truth was sired!
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The Pit
If the Creator’s plan for you
Is just a pit to bear,
Enduring evil’s nothing new—
It’s death of spirit there.
It cuts down all who climb the peak,
As ever has been so—
No contrast now, the truth is bleak:
“Up top” is just pure woe.
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Victory of the Scum
Thanks to comrade Gates, they say,
For childhood “bright” and free—
The computer took the throne today,
For plebs, a tool to be.
Before, a tool, but now it’s just
One endless app to scroll.
You live like in a desert dust,
Where lifeless breezes roll.
Doubtful versions sweep away
All sense with stupid fights.
They turn us all to fools each day,
Only “Classmates” hold tight.
True talks are rare—your neighbor’s face
Unknown in concrete cells.
Consciousness lost, the scum’s embrace
Strikes hard; it casts its spells.
The last of spirit, mind, and light
Shrinks down, then fades unseen.
Only nonsense reaches sight—
The scum has won, obscene.
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So-Called "Culture"
A stake of aspen in pseudo-culture’s chest,
Drive it deep and walk on light, at best:
A foolish loser buys the shallow fake—
That “culture” stands on fools who take.
True Spirit’s daring, reaching for the Light,
The soul’s own pulse, its genuine fight.
But in that broke, pretend charade,
No answer lives—just empty parade.
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Themes
Memes serve up their shallow themes —
A challenge to dull all minds, it seems:
With nonsense, they decay the wise,
In memes, the spawn of lies arise.
Expose the false, the half-truth’s shade,
Bring light where darkness tries to fade.
Or we’ll be lost — no time to stall,
Strike down the lies — or lose it all!
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Pol Pot, Hitler, and Putler
Pol Pot’s sweat earned him a role—
A freakish camp to rule the whole,
A country sized like prison walls,
Where terror grips and silence falls.
No need for camps — it’s all the same:
Wherever rage fuels fiendish game,
They spill the blood, the leader’s throne—
Don’t touch the smartest one alone!
The master helm who leads ahead,
Crushing all who dare to tread.
All dissenters — dealt away,
Lost beneath the shadow’s sway.
And Putler, double-faced and sly,
A runt before the great gone by.
He topped even Hitler’s hell,
Built a nightmare none can quell.
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The Boredom of the Global Herd
Boredom’s not a beauty’s face—
It’s a sign of drained-out grace.
When you’re penned like common stock,
And that pen’s a messy block,
You can fade away, run dry
In anything — they’ll suck you dry.
All your strength the beasts will drain,
Then beat you down to break your strain.
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Cheaters and Murra
The bastards deal the crooked hands —
Cheaters always hold command.
They must win, no room for shame,
This world’s a ruthless, dirty game.
If you’re not a cheat, you’re low,
But what’s “top”? Just scraps that flow—
Like a sludge pit, stinking, vile.
“Two-in-one” spray fools with style—
Thousands bask in foul perfume,
Calling stench a scent’s costume.
Propaganda’s lying howl?
No—it’s news, a sickly growl.
Murra rots in every crack—
That’s your “progress,” face the fact!
Cast out doubt in cheats’ domain—
And they’ll lie with brazen strain...
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We Are Ours, We Build the New... Madness
"We are ours, we build a new world..."
The anthem cries, “International!”
The impossible becomes real,
While what’s real’s a crazy deal:
Hard to grasp, but clear as gas—
Total lies that poison fast.
In this killer’s suffocating grip,
Truth and mind begin to slip.
A half-dead soul must face the crowd—
The New Madness shouts aloud:
New #FuckedUp End, fierce and proud...
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The Race’s End
Monotony of shallow thrills,
The vulgar chase for cash and fame—
The scum who lose the roots and wills,
Forget the heart, obey the brain.
The mind, once servant, breaks its chains,
And falls to ruin, lost, abused.
Forgetfulness in lies remains—
The fate of generations fused.
A rotten world, caught in the race,
The finish line—a deathly prize.
Blind liars mix the peak and base,
Confused beneath deceivers’ lies.
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The Eternal and the Human
Too little of the ETERNAL —
Too much of just the human.
This gnome’s a fleeting signal,
A joke, a mere buffoon.
His mind is small and empty —
Books shallow, plain and cheap;
Lies flood the world aplenty,
Where souls are lost, not deep.
But if the soul’s not vanished —
Through pain breaks into Light,
Through lies and rot, unbanished —
Screw doubts! Embrace the fight!
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A Clamp for Fools
A clamp? — just a clip!
Truth? — a lie so thick!
All’s absurd:
Malice, fear, a dirty trick.
Lies that bind? —
How’s that fit?
Fear turns souls
To creatures unfit.
Lies on fear —
The whole damn clamp:
Russia’s crushed,
In dust and stamp.
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All the Content of "Normal" Mind Is Clinical Madness
Clinical madness —
The core of "mind" they say.
What’s the real answer? —
Cast false knowledge away,
And journey inward —
Toward the Spirit’s bright light.
No other path here —
None left in sight.
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A tough and fearsome task it is —
Not to be the beast that sways and squats.
If you’re a bee that flits on roses,
Those roses face eternal threats and losses.
The roses trampled — that’s no surprise:
The fragile, pure here doomed to die.
Grow thicker skin, let tusks arise —
Be the world’s elephant, strong and wise.
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Fucked-Up State
Tubercular thoughts decay,
Words spew out like vomit’s spray:
Around no humans — just mere sums,
And in your head, the nonsense drums.
From vile, total lies you choke,
No other choice but silent smoke.
If you’re smart, bold, true, and free —
Don’t lose your mind in misery.
‘Cause freaking out is way too late —
The world’s a wreck, it’s lost its fate.
On the horizon, grim and tense,
Fucked-up state raises its hand immense...
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People?
Look around. Are those all humans?
Or just Satan’s icon pack?
Is that food or demon’s cumin —
Hell’s meat platter? Dreams go black.
Darkness, madness — that’s their "thinking",
Or is Purest Mind in there?
Are they sheep for slaughter, shrinking?
Or are humans really where
Shame is branded as “freedom,”
Truth replaced with crafted lies,
Mutant freaks that serve the system
Guard “Constitutions” in disguise.
Freedom is the space for making,
For the Pure-Souled to create.
Tyranny, though, strips and breaks 'em —
Turns them all to meat for plate.
Light is scarce. The Dark is swelling —
It’s a death mark for the Soul.
Breeds are raised through this dark spelling:
Dead ones wrapped in breathing role.
They have fouled and raped the Planet,
Murdered Nature, left a stain.
Only corpses hear the sonnets
Of the Lie — and most of it is death for brains.
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Longing
Guts in bowls — the cats are glad.
Is that cure for feeling bad?
Don’t you dare suppress the gloom —
Only fools make grief their plume.
Aren’t you homesick down in Hell
With the crazed who think they’re well?
Few exceptions, few awake.
Madness here is no mistake.
Genocide, a centuries' art —
Mass-producing fools by heart.
Better call it: Slavery’s spawn,
Built on madness, bred since dawn.
That’s the scheme the beasts defend:
Dumb and silent to the end.
Counting chance, the poor blind throng
Sinks in numbness all along.
Grief and lies — how not to feel?
Guts in bowls — the feline meal —
Even cats have smarter wit
Than a SOLD-OUT IDIOT.
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Foam — then fade:
Dull was the sire.
All betrayed —
The world’s a pyre...
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EU — the Union of the Gut
Beer bellies sag, the minds are shut.
You fly right in — they weigh your worth:
Just raw supply, not soul or birth.
The “people” — cattle, bought and sold,
Their lives reduced to profit mold.
Above it all, the lying glaze —
Believe it once — you're lost for days.
-------------------------
Rotten lies, half-truths, and fiction —
That’s the mix of their “science” game.
End result? A fool’s submission
To the yoke of whores for fame.
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Weird young fellow...
Dumb as wood.
Brain is jello,
Spirit — no good.
-------------------------
Selling Whores
They sell themselves without a fight —
So cheap, those filthy, crawling swine...
They think that death is out of sight,
And whoring seems to suit them fine.
They trade and stab without regret,
As if betrayal never ends.
But Human burns at sunset —
And Bedlam’s fire ascends.
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Stop Your Hiding — Face the Hell
All around — it reeks, it fell.
Hourly lies through every screen —
End of this pathetic scene.
But your Soul is not for loss —
So rise up and bear your cross!
Only hear your inner flame —
All outside is filth and shame.
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The Call of Poetry — a Fearsome Might.
If filth and comfort seem all right —
Then don’t you dare into those deeps:
The Path of Poetry is where Sorrow weeps.
Sorrow is ABSOLUTE — the rest is jest.
Stop bowing down to brute unrest.
Just DIE before you kneel to scum —
Just DON’T YOU LIE — Hell burns for some.
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Stood by you? Not one...
What is it you seek?
Nothing. None. I'm done —
No more need to speak.
Nothing's left to crave —
I have walked through Hell.
Did that forge a knave?
No — I wrote it well.
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I couldn’t care for this brave “horde” —
These fools who’d sell their souls for fraud,
Who treat betrayal as a sword,
And worship lies as some new god.
Go grab this “life” — go snatch your fate!
You’ll grasp a void. Your mind? — too late.
This path leads straight to what they crave:
A shiny car — to be their grave.
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Angry Bear
That one? A “president” — a drunk, insane?
The Kremlin’s all just evil waste and stain.
If that’s the case — then we’re all doomed, no doubt...
The end is near, and there’s no way out.
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“Unreasoning the Reasoned”
Un-reason those who thought they knew,
Break the spell of all this slime —
The nonsense born from lies anew,
Deceit of traitors, cruel crime.
A web of traps and staged deceit,
This world’s a scripted, staged charade.
The soul’s forever under heat,
While Satan’s half-god in the shade.
He writes the plot; the directors — scum,
Monsters hard to find or name.
The whole performance — deafening drum:
One trick — to scare, to lie, to maim.
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“Love-Filled” Hypocrites
“Love abounds” — but fools surround,
And Darkness holds the world in chains.
Yet smiles so sweet, with grace profound,
Pour oil and tears to mask their stains.
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The World’s Disappearance in Nightmare
"The waking share one common world,
The sleepers turn to their own fold."
— Heraclitus
The world dissolves — few stand awake,
While “sweet” dreams twist into a snare.
A nightmare traps the soul to break —
Its fallen fate, a fool’s despair.
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Don’t Trust Your Eyes — The Pattern’s Blurred
Don’t trust your eyes — the mold has blurred
Your view of this dumb, dumb world absurd.
No courage, no sharp intuition —
Just march along to Stagnation’s prison.
A world of fools, a stagnant land,
Where spirit’s mocked by empty hands.
A fool’s small step can’t grasp the core,
No strength enough to seek for more.
Mind ruled by Spirit, life creates —
That’s how decay you’ll truly break.
Forget the stagnation’s curse,
And lies that spread their evil worse.
Assimilation’s reached its peak —
In fools, the chains they gladly seek.
Muzzles on through CowID years,
This world’s a joke — poor wretched peers.
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“Evolution” of Fools
We don’t give damn — there’s plenty here,
Of sick fools clogged with empty cheer.
We’ll listen close if lies persist,
Relentless lies we can’t resist.
We’ll bow to lies, the box controls,
Feeding us junk, illusions’ roles.
Forever praise new petty tyrants,
In creatures rife with flaws, defiant.
We won’t perceive the chains we wear —
Our gaze on cash, the only care.
Gripped only by the lure of gold,
Buying babes and rides to hold.
No room for fools, they’re cast away —
New “selection” rules the play:
Fool turns cattle — that’s the way,
The age of dumb has its own sway.
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So-called "Dictatorship of the Proletariat"?
Control and power by the masses —
Duller myth no one surpasses.
Dictatorship of lies insane,
Hidden plague, a filthy stain.
Like typhus, it infects the mind,
Lies disguised, the base you'll find.
Fools swoon fast on fairy tales,
While second depths command the hails.
Pol Pot once was “communist.”
Before him Hitler’s iron fist.
Now the double-faced Putler’s here,
Teaching fools to bow and sneer.
A lesson steeped in lies supreme,
No one learns from past’s harsh scheme.
The freak disturbs the crowds anew,
With poisoned ideas — always through.
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The Price of Freedom
The price of freedom — cast aside
All else with courage, cast and wide.
No coin in pocket? Let it be,
But time remains for Path and Deed.
The Path is knowledge, Deed — the fire,
A creative, fierce desire.
All else is folly, vain and cold,
A twisted goal by liars told.
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Not Quite a Poem
Not quite a poem —
The rage won’t cease:
A fleeting flash,
A tense release —
And then — prepared.
A simple grind...
The “catch”?
Just “GRAB AND GRIND!!!”
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“Yes” and “No”...
“Yes,” if madness rules the world,
And “normal” means the curse.
“No” will leave a weaker swirl —
If sane, you might disperse,
Walk down that wasted road —
Where sorrow’s sown today,
Hell reaps its fiery load.
Don’t curse the futile way:
If “benefit” feeds Hell’s fire,
The scum will cheer success.
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In Hell’s Dark
“Sometimes the night’s too dark to see.”
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
A blind mole crawls the tunnels deep,
Collecting tribute from the field.
In darkness, with fools just as steep,
You find the lies that Hell concealed.
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Heights and Depths
“The higher we ascend, the small
And worthless seem to those who fall.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche’s thought to all.
To fly’s a snare in fools’ dull eyes:
If clear you think — the enemy’s guise.
The Artist’s mad amid the arts,
The Spirit’s Path — a yoke for hearts.
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Self Inquiry
"Examine all, let reason lead,"
— Pythagoras spoke long ago indeed.
Explore it all, but under Spirit’s reign,
Let Reason hold the foremost claim.
To dig too deep in “knowledge” — foolish game,
For lies abound, and all is not the same.
The rulers know the art of lies,
So falsehoods spread, and truth soon dies.
They twist the sciences with cash and might,
Commanding falsehoods, veiling light.
-------------------------
The hamster and the mole both think,
The falcon lost, a sneaky link,
That life on Earth’s not all that bad,
While birds above just lie, so sad.
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Spineless fools in clouds of madness,
Worldly nonsense, pale and stark —
This is monsters’ cruel gladness,
Brains and spirit fade to dark.
Few remain with backbone’s fire,
Fewer still with spirit’s core,
World won’t be what once inspired —
Soon it rots forevermore.
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All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me