Greedy Crooks and the Mutton "Virus"

In books, the doctors shine like gold,
On screens, they're heroes, brave and bold.
But only snakes, corrupt and sly,
Would jab the sheep and watch them die!..



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Fabricated "Viruses"

A vial’s filled with "virus" fake—
Illusion, nothing real to take.
The war’s on Reason—make no mistake,
Drowned out by "science" loud and fake.



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War

Drags all
To fall,
Deception reigns—
And fools obey its twisted chains.
"New foes" are crafted on demand,
No second thoughts to strike or stand.



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Rare Poetry for Rare Souls

Soft love for “homeland,” sweet embrace,
Of “friendship,” nature—empty grace.
Such rhymes for mindless crowds are spun,
But Rare Ones feel their blood outrun—

When words, like thunder, strike the brain,
And shatter folly’s dull domain,
Or force reflection, sharp and keen,
Through paradox or scorn unseen.

This True Poetry is rare to find,
As rare as Thought—unique, unchained,
Which loathes the noise of hollow minds
And to their folly stays disdained.



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Transnistria’s Fascist Regime

A rotten regime where the pensions are crumbs—
A grave-fund in name would be nearer the truth.
The cops rule like beasts, sinking lower than scum,
While people are squeezed till there’s nothing to lose.



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Rotten Chaos

Propaganda’s whores parade,
Far more rotten than the rest.
Ruthless gangs behind the shade
Keep the fools in blind duress.

Fools are plenty, whores aren’t few,
Gangs? Too many to be named.
Lies spread fast, deceit’s in view,
While the "ruler" plays his game.

No way forward, doomed to crack—
Rotten Chaos meets its fate:
Waves of madness, lies attack,
Blood and war—a twisted state.

CowID? Just a testing trick,
More fake plagues will soon arise.
With their poisons, strong and slick,
They’ll inject the world with lies.



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Cinema Propaganda

First, comes distraction—your mind drifts away,
Then filth creeps inside, while your thoughts fade to grey.
Reading the “news” is a tiresome chore,
But straight-shot deceit works much less than before.

So now they inject it through laughter and thrill,
Corrupting the weak with their venomous skill.
A dose at a time, till the mind’s stripped of all,
And nothing remains—just an echoing call.

But Nothing builds nothing—it crumbles, decays,
While rot is their goal through manipulative plays.
They dazzle, distract with their "stories" so grand,
While lies take deep root where you don’t understand.



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Propaganda—a Villains' Brigade

A gang of beasts—propaganda’s crew,
Yet theft’s not the prize they chase or pursue.
Their goal is far worse: to make the depraved
The "norm," while the world drifts into the grave.



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"The Path of the Cross"

They push the herd the cross to bear—
Its goal? Not faith, but pure despair.
"Humanism"—just a veil,
Hiding evil’s true detail,
Like a carrot for the frail.



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I lay to rest by cannon’s side
Amidst the war’s mad, raging tide...
— What curse upon these people fell?
— They failed to see their captive cell.
For "freedom’s" lash still drives them blind,
And once again they trust the Lie.



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This "culture" drill—I've had enough,
Its hollow rules—just twisted stuff.
The fools preach "virtue" loud and clear,
While scoundrels drive the herd with fear.
They fool the minds, prepare bullpen,
Then send the weak to die again,
While idly chatting all along:
"Stand up! Stay strong! Keep fighting on!"



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"It's just a business," they will say,
Excusing all in greed's embrace.
Then sink still lower day by day—
No depth too dark for their disgrace.



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Economic Cattle

Greed-born troubles, minds decayed,
Fruits of folly on display.
Deaf and dumb, no thought, no plea—
Livestock for economy.



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A Murky Tale and a Frightful Fable

A fable’s just the start, they say,
The tale is darker far:
A fool obeys and strokes away—
The devil’s penned in char.

Now dreams and life are intertwined,
A "fantasy" untamed.
Do thinkers still remain behind?
Whom do they praise and name?

So few are wise—their idols lie,
Deceit is crowned instead.
The world sinks lower, scraping by,
Its soul already dead.

That fable—once creation bright—
Now fuels the flames ahead.
A tale of rot, of doomed delight—
Of ruin’s final spread.



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A Poet’s Bliss

These "autumn" tunes in verses ring,
So strong before the end—
For Satan’s madhouse, laughing, sing,
As darkness claims its land.

The filth will fade—its time is short,
Though now it floods the way.
So dare to speak—no fears to court,
When death stands but a day.

Yet death must meet your steady gaze
In every fleeting spark,
Then greed won’t lure your soul to waste,
You’ll break, yet leave your mark.

Then knock on walls—no fear, no chains,
For poetry is fight.
And if you fall, a voice remains—
One stronger will ignite.



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"Refined" Vulgarity

Vulgar turns to "deep" instead—
A twisted mind, a snob well-bred.



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


Babbling Freaks of Pseudoscience

A "fact" is bent to fit the mold,
The fool keeps silent, bought and sold.
For science false, the rule is plain—
Just empty words, a hollow chain.

What breaks their claims, they’ll never see,
Blind fools won’t hear what truth might be.
They trust their modern prophet clan,
Where "proof" and nonsense go hand in hand,
And faith in lies corrupts the land.



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"Faith," So to Speak

To "trust" means twisting all through lore,
A mind-disease, a fever sore.
And in delirium’s embrace,
I’ll "find" my "savior"—fall from grace.



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A Servile Mind

Like lambs, they march without a fight,
To slaughter—glad, convinced they’re right.
They only dare to doubt and fear
Themselves—so simple, so sincere.



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"Upbringing" of the Rising Generation

No clubs for thought, no place for reason,
But sports? They're funded well enough.
No risks allowed—such talk’s high treason,
Can’t shake the herd, they’ve had it rough.

Debates could spark a mind’s ignition,
Awake a few, shake up the scene,
But thinking’s met with firm suspicion—
Who needs the wise when fools convene?

It’s all about the body, solely,
No link to thought, no mental light.
The media feeds the masses lowly—
Rot, filth, and trash—day, noon, and night.

To keep the madness ever thriving,
Control demands a mindless herd.
If truth were free and not conniving,
Then fools would vanish—leave no word.

Yet, some emerge—rare, strong, insightful,
Against the tide, they rise and gleam,
But fools snuff out what’s bright, delightful—
Like birds from books—they’re just a dream.



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The History of Earth Is the History of Slavery

They’ve painted over slavery’s tale,
Drowned truth in myths—a grand parade.
And now the fools, devout and pale,
Don’t see how deep we’ve all decayed.



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Inverse Proportion of False Life’s Rewards

You’ll get what’s earned—but in reverse,
No lucky break will lift you high.
If fate must choose, it picks the worst,
Unless you serve—then step in line.

Misfortune clings to those who wait,
Hard work won't change its wicked touch.
So work, but not for fortune’s bait—
Create instead, it gives you much.

True merit shines through fire and strife,
Not wealth, not gold, nor aching greed.
For chasing cash with all your life
Is just the way a slave proceeds.



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Oblivion

"Man, you have nothing but your soul."
— Pythagoras, 6th century BC


Fame and fortune, body, mind—
All will fade, but not the soul.
Seek the truth, reclaim control,
Leave the fleeting noise behind.

Words like echoes cloud the way,
Trapping hearts in endless night.
Break the chains, embrace the light—
Let your soul no more decay!



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Greed

"More! Still more!"—the cry is loud,
And the soul burns out in flames.
Greed has dragged the masses down,
Chasing gold and hollow names.



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The Global Masquerade

A masquerade—just look around!
Few are real, most wear disguise.
The wretched hide, they can’t be found,
For deep inside—they’re empty lies.

And emptiness creates no fate,
Builds no world, no dream, no light.
It only takes, consumes with hate,
And hoards for self with all its might.

Why should others even try,
If fiends will tear down what they make?
All that’s left is smoke and sky—
They take, take, take for their own sake.



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A Game with Poison

What a game—lace your verse with fire,
Strike at fascists, let words ignite.
Let the brutes claim they’re always right,
But don’t you dare give up the fight.

For dropping your hands is sinking your soul,
Drowning it deep in the darkness below.
Listen to heart—let it guide you whole,
And damn what the slaves may think or know.



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Fragmented Mind

Scenes that jump and flash, collide—
Minds dissolve in shattered streams.
Memes ensure the lie won’t die,
Locking thoughts in caged-up dreams.

Trapped within this broken vision,
Sinking deeper, thought grows thin.
Is it fun or just derision—
News, blogs, films—they pull you in.



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True Opposites Don’t Attract

In foolish tales, they twist and spin—
Opposites will magnetize.
But kindred souls will draw within—
That’s life's true law, not hollow lies.



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Golden Domes and Endless Chimes

Golden domes, a ringing chime,
Drifting, droning, loud yet bare…
Time unchrist yourself - it's crime:
Faith will drive out reason there.



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From Dust to Dust, or the Road to a New Hell

Tinsel glitters, empty glare,
Fear and falsehood choke the air.
Time to leave—no turning back,
Dust to dust, from dust to black.

Dust to dust—this Hell decays,
Yet a New Hell waits ahead.
There, the Super-Fiends will reign,
Super-Lies and Super-Dread.

Hellish Spheres breed vipers vile,
Spawning monsters, goal in sight.
Even Satan, bored with style,
Leaves this Hell—it lacks in blight.

Thus, the path to Hell anew
Is the law none shall repeal.
Fools still trust the lies as true,
Worship chains and call them real...



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The Scavenger Good

Robin Hood was good, no doubt,
Stealing gold to spread about.
Yet the greatest wealth, you see,
Lies in minds that struggle free.

Darkness crowned the fools supreme,
Drowning reason, dimming light.
Now the world’s a filthy stream—
Evil’s waste has clogged the sight.

Clearing lies, unmasking fraud,
That’s the task for one anew.
Robin Hood must rise abroad—
Monsters lie too well, too true...



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Dimwit

Dimwit: jelly in his skull,
Lies swell thick—a tumor dull.
Fear runs boiling to his crown,
Madness marks him, sinking down.



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


The Stool

Garbage heaps are spreading,
Land and sea decay.
Minds, like sponges, treading
Trash in disarray.

Worse inside the masses—
Madness takes its rule.
'Neath the Horned One’s glasses,
World becomes a stool.



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Fake Diseases

Coughing? Panic—
CowID it is.
Ears are ringing?
That’s the "AIDS."

— Hippo-clap, where does it spread?
— Not down there—it's in your head...



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— Hannah plus Trevor?
— Oh sure, it is "love"...
Till the cup runneth over—
Then push comes to shove.



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The Mire of a Servile World

The watchdog of Hell guards not its gates,
But shackles the minds to their lowly fates.
Trapped in the madness, they bow and obey—
What is this Hell?—Just fools in array.

Rotting in darkness, denied the right
To shape their truth, to share their light.
Fed with delusions from cradle to grave,
Drowning in mire, too broken to brave.



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No Path Through Delirium

No way out through fevered haze—
Wake up now, for heaven’s sake!
Stop believing shameless lies—
They will drag you to the grave.

Quit your whining, dreams won’t save—
Only ropes are left to wave.
War and CowID made it plain:
This world sank beneath the drain.



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Seas of sorrow, peaks of lies,
Serve the fiends—be blind, comply.
Tread that path, and soon you’ll see—
Hell awaits a wretch like thee.



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


Too most fell for liars' game—
Vile beasts still play the same.
Now the world’s a reeking pit,
Where madmen proudly sit.



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Grandpa Frost or Devil’s Scheme?

Grandpa Frost is no fool, listen—
He's the devil in disguise.
You won’t sense a real mission—
Just a beard and kind old eyes.

Gifts he brings to keep you merry,
That’s the trick he plays so well.
NEW YEAR comes—but times don’t vary,
Same old game, the same old spell.

Chains of slavery won’t shatter,
They’ll just get a fresh design,
Spiced with filth—the devil’s pattern,
Mastermind of all that’s vile.



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Witch Hunt: Then and Now

If it’s strange—must be "infection".
Once they called it "evil's breath."
Both are means of mind’s subjection,
Ruled by fiends who deal in death.

Witches burned—today they drug us,
Same old story, same old fate.
Fools they were, but now among us
Live the brutes who breed blind hate.

Three in four—like sheep they follow,
Drowning deep in filth and lies.
Doctors now play gods so hollow,
Satan laughs and rolls the dice...



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Changes in Total Slavery

Chains are changing—same old story:
Trade for dust, then rot in glory.
Now they build a sterile cage,
Digital, to rule the age.

Chip implanted—no possession,
Every move under suppression.
Crowds don’t think, they kneel and bend,
Worship filth until the end.

Brains are outlawed—"AI"’s preaching,
Guiding swine with soulless teaching.



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


Big Apple

“Friends” — the show we know so well,
Where wage slaves in cages dwell.
Cramped apartments, lives confined,
Yet their fate seems unmaligned.

Flirt and chatter, booze and laughter,
Fill their nights, but what comes after?
Worn-out paths, the spirit’s numb,
Trapped in loops that leave them dumb.

In the “center of creation,”
Apple’s name—a proud ovation.
Yet it’s bleak, so dull, so hollow—
Trudging slaves with nights so shallow...



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Changes in a Nonsensical World

Absurdity—a fortress tall,
No way to break, just skirt the wall.
Yet Stupidity breaks through,
To build a new one—stronger too.

Where Rudeness binds like solid glue,
And mass dumbdown comes into view.
Inside those walls, the fools will cheer,
As ruin draws forever near.

No waiting long—the purge is set,
The filth has shown the endgame yet.



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"Stability Is a Mark of Skill"

They praise stability—so wise,
Yet nature thrives in waves that rise.
For waves won’t fit in rigid lines,
And "life" resists their forced confines.

No cycle flows the same as past,
No chart can hold a surge so vast.
Thus, talent seems a foolish sight
Among dull faces, locked in night.



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Cave People

The grind of boredom beats "belief,"
For near the cave, built on deceit,
Rise the temples, false yet grand,
Preaching chains to rule the land.



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"Bright Horizon"

Twisted faces, cold and grim—
Drunken butchers, soaked in sin.
After torture, after lead,
Marching where the fools are led.

Step by step, they guide the blind,
Slaughter’s fate already signed.



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The Oldest Profession

A cave-age cop came long before
The prostitute of fabled lore.
Yet lies persist, they twist the past—
Deceit for fools, spun deep and vast.



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Futile Toil

Toil grinds the mind to dust,
Paves the road for fools to trust.
Bricks of hell they proudly lay,
Calling it a brighter day.

Oh, how well the fiends deceive—
Lies so grand, the fools believe!



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Religious crap – it’s always hot,
A tool to keep the slaves in spot.
They preach their "grace" to keep control,
To chain the body, bind the soul.



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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me