Celery Won’t Heal the Mind
No leek or celery can mend
The wounds that rot your dying mind.
Wake up, you fool, this is the end—
Life has left us all behind.
The mind’s not king—it's just a part,
The Spirit rules, it stands above!
Deny this truth—and lost you are,
Crushed by Beasts that know no love.
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Fortresses of Hollow Lies
These fortresses of hollow lies
Can’t be breached by blast or drill.
If you seek to stay alive,
Walk on fast—but tread with skill.
For every path is lined with mines,
And truth is scarce where falsehood thrives.
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Trivial Dreams
We cling to hopes of days ahead,
We mourn the past with weary sighs.
Yet life, unnoticed, melts and sheds—
We trade it all for hollow lies.
Tomorrow turns to nightmare’s glare,
And yesterday dissolves in haze.
The world’s a wound too vast to bear,
All else—just trivial displays.
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About the Mad Age of Sheep-Virus
The city pens of CowID,
Put to the test, exposed their breed.
The trial failed: vile lice of greed
Have bent the world to suit their need.
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Memes of the Luciferian System
The System’s rules—deceit and lies,
Its memes ensure "progressive" guise,
A tool to tighten, bit by bit,
The beasts' dominion, force, and grip.
The memes grew sharper, bolder still,
More obscene and full of skill—
For many eager, servile swine
Have honed the craft and toed the line.
Their teacher, Goebbels, did his best
To shape the feeble, clueless nest.
Now dumber crowds obey and bend,
So memes must spread without an end.
With tangled words they rule the weak,
The halfwits taught the lines to speak.
And for the docile, brainwashed lot—
A catchy meme will do the job.
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Mindless Rot: No Thought, Just Plot
Thinking’s hard? Then why pretend?
Or has your brain just gone to rot?
A hollow stump with thoughtless hands
Now builds the world into a knot...
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The Poisonous Mire
To shake the beasts with fear and fire—
That's how deception takes its root.
Seek knowledge, sharpen and aspire,
Or drown within the Poisonous Mute.
For lies in "wisdom" lurk and fester,
Yet only instincts see the snare.
Expose the fraud, reveal the jester,
Let reason blaze instead of flare.
Don’t let it smolder, choked by feeling—
The path is clear, yet few will try.
The fools, in blind emotion kneeling,
See nothing greater than their pride.
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"Choice," They Say
Is it choice—
Or just a gleam?
World’s a rack,
And beasts—extreme.
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"Choice," They Say
Fish may choose,
Or some big wheel.
Or the bend
Of shower steel.
Naught beyond—
That’s all we know.
Clear as day:
We've hit the low.
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The Mind’s Futile Toil
The world is swarmed with half-beast kin,
Thus reason’s works all meet their fall—
For only HUMANS hear within
The Highest calling—if at all.
Yet minds fall ill, consumed by blight,
Few stand to heed the noble peak.
And toil of reason, stripped of light,
If blind to Him—then you’re a freak.
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The Freaks of Politics
So many twisted, soulless breeds,
Yet all emerge from just one source.
Their goal? To set the kin at odds,
To pit the neighbor in the course.
Their master—Satan. Few will see,
Just party heads know what’s at play.
The rest are pawns, they serve for free—
No physicist will light their way.
One cashbox fuels the whole charade,
Yet tell the fools their banks compete.
They twist the minds through lies well-paid,
Like poisoned cheese—a deadly treat.
The Cheesemaster will grant them more,
For folly feeds his grandest feast.
Deception spreads—the richest store,
And fools bring profit to the beast.
That profit? Agony and dread,
The beasts extract from human prey.
And puppets dance as Satan’s bred—
Just minions in this foul play.
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Muse or Girth?
For poets, oft the choice is clear—
The belly wins, the verse must die.
Thus many songs just disappear...
All hail the filth they raise up high!
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The Muse That Drags You Down
The Muse pulls down—a heavy chain—
To social depths, a hopeless mire.
Yet rising high, a stench remains,
Where eagles, cranes will choke and tire.
A foolish canary, caged in gold,
Still sings for beasts in their domain,
Its feeble tunes, so meek and cold,
Just blend into their wailing strain.
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Artificial Problems
The PLAN of PROBLEMS, all arranged,
For BEASTLY minds—a mapped-out way.
A brand-new cycle is exchanged
Once the LOWER hits its day.
The feeble crowd, so blind, misled,
Needs old-time tales with fresh decay—
A touch of "new" on what was dead,
And all will cheer and drift away.
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Fake Originality
You chase your "joy," yourself adore,
A twisted PATH—there’s nothing more.
A standard freak, the same old way,
Just lost among the mindless stray.
Try to twist, to play pretend,
Shape yourself, yet in the end,
You can't outsmart what nature gave—
A freak you were, a freak you'll stay.
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The Lie of "Normal Life"
To write of "normal life" is bland,
No duller pastime could be found.
For COMMON LIFE is sleight of hand,
A farce that turns to madness round.
You wear a mask—till mind is split,
Illusions drag you down the road.
One path remains—the soul to lift,
Yet FEW will walk that heavy load.
No pretense there—just truth shines bright,
If fearless, you will see it through.
And "normal" burns in blinding light—
Replaced by something pure and true.
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"Thanksgiving," They Say
A feast on blood—
Gluttony disguised.
So much "love"—
How we're mesmerized.
But first, let's slay
The tribes once more,
Pour some punch,
Then feast galore.
Two hundred years—
What will remain?
Just the bird—
The rest's in vain.
Pour a drink
To drown the past,
While terror here
Still holds us fast.
Brutal hands,
Their greed obscene,
Marching sheep
Through gates unseen.
A tyrant grins,
Brings war anew—
Lies, fear, shame
Drown all in view.
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The Real Hunchback
A hunchback’s not the one who’s bent,
But he who bears the lies—content,
And drags them on from birth to grave,
Still chanting, "Trust the chiefs, behave!"
Yet filth and nonsense pile high,
His path is heavy—crushed thereby.
That weight will lead where fates align:
A CowID ward or a fascist line.
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Global Insanity
The madness grows, runs wild, untamed,
And few escape it unashamed.
The path is hard, the price is steep
For Brave and True—yet not the weak.
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Generations on Their Knees
Generations bow in chains,
Yet some insist they’re free from pain—
So "happy," lost in blind delight,
With rotting minds and hollow sight.
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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