Mental Lilliputians
A tiny pity it inspires—
Not for this was life begun.
Yet still the fool, with mind on fire,
Serves evil, and gets nothing done.
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Beer... Culture!
Fate, indeed, is a fool:
Where were you born, my friend?
Happiness—did you not bend?
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Goebbels' Press
Goebbels' media's all around—
No shortage of Judas to be found.
Far more fools who blindly trust,
Deceived by lies, they turn to dust.
CowID and war so bright,
Revealed it all, a ghastly sight.
Like poultices for the dead man’s pain,
The wise preach, but sheep march to their bane.
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The mammoth’s gone,
The fool remains—
Still won’t die, despite the pains.
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On Parasites, or the Enormous Monstrous Lie
The cat—
A flea.
The man—
A lie: it grows from age to age.
A man, like fleas, on lies will cling—
Even the cat will find it strange.
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Few fools have fallen yet,
Where's the work for propaganda to set?
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"Mice are falling from the roof!"
That’s how the liars speak the truth.
Now liars hold the highest place—
The fool believes the media's grace.
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Into delusion's grip we fall,
Madness reigns, and tyrants call.
A friend, a foe—what's left to see?
We've hit the bottom, can't break free.
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I’ve tasted Hell—
It was quite grim.
If Hell's this young—
The damage’s deep and dim.
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"Rising From the Ashes" Amidst the Filth
Rising from the dirt, they claim,
Fascism—like Pol Pot's old name,
Suddenly worried 'bout the build
Of capitalism, grotesquely filled.
"Rising up," the fool’s own face
Falls back into the filth and waste—
For everywhere it’s spread and sown:
Facism’s muck has claimed the throne.
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Relentless, Talentless
Relentless, talentless, they roam,
Existence among slaves they know.
Yet they're but sheep within the pens,
No chains, but bound by their own trends.
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The Ubiquitous Crap of the BEASTS
Believe the crap—you're just a fool,
They'll send the herd to play the tool.
CowID was just the start,
Now tests have dulled the mind and heart.
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A Dose of Love
A dose of love from alley cats,
Poisoned blood, it’s all in that.
Bonmo’s venom, in the veins,
Awaiting Novus to remain...
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Building the Digital Concentration Camp
Together we swiftly build the Camp,
A red cross on a white flag's stamp,
The end result of “civilized” ways—
Spirit and Reason lost in a haze.
Or more precisely, their CASTRATION!!!
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The Prodigal Son's Non-Return
The prodigal son, no return in sight,
When madness reigns and blurs the right—
No need for forgiveness here,
Old sayings lie, it’s crystal clear.
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A Sandwich with Mustard
Mustard’s the spice of life, so dim,
And toil is just stale bread within.
Yet the world remains so flesh-bound,
It resembles more a pigsty ground.
Spiritual drives are foreign, lost,
For most, that’s just the bitter cost.
In minds, the festering lies take root,
And few escape the muck to shoot.
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What to Neglect?
Neglect: believe the fools' own lies,
Hope for light where darkness lies.
Sarcasm helps, and jokes will show—
To roll the "fluff" in filth below.
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Who Knows Where
Who knows where, who knows what,
But in despair, it’s all for naught.
Crap leads down the same dark road—
A path to nothing, as it's owed.
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The Bulldozer of Fierce Poetry
The bulldozer of fierce verse
Sweeps all the nonsense from the curse.
But there’s no gain to come from this—
The main nonsense still persists.
For since our youth, they flood our minds
With heaps of lies, of every kind.
If you remove that foul disguise,
What’s left is rot beneath their eyes.
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The Sun's Brightness Increase
The chants of man, with wine in hand,
Claim warming skies across the land...
For over fifty years, the Sun
Has shone more bright, as lies are spun.
The world has sunk in brazen lies,
As falsehoods heat like the Sun’s rise.
It's hard to clear the air, you see—
When lies flood in, so endlessly.
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The Stinking Slaves
The stinking slaves, the walking tombs,
Worshipping fate, their title looms—
"Just whatever"—their guiding creed,
Pushing others to their need.
They’ll drive them all into the grave,
For no place left for those who brave
To stand against this soulless mass—
Where most will fail, and none will pass.
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Alienation
Scorn the lies of wretched swine,
The dead-souled world is not for thine.
Serve your soul and walk away,
Cast their heresy to decay.
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The Labor of Verse
No labor can summon a poetic spark,
Yet without effort, it fades into dark.
A poem drains both strength and soul—
Lose what fuels it, and lose it whole.
At times, you'll pay that barren toll,
But work, then rest—don't fear the role.
If you're a poet, then halt means betray—
Build your "paradise" in rhyme each day.
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"The Enemy" Will Fall, Of Course
"The foe will fall, the fight is ours!"
So beasts send fools to war in showers.
Their goal is clear—more waves, more blood,
To drown the earth in human flood.
They need more bodies, more and more,
For fools can’t grasp what lies before.
It's not about some land or claim—
Just numbers lost—that is the game.
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The Suicide Club
Too late to beg, too dumb to trust,
No hope remains—just ash and dust.
We are the members of the doomed,
The world joins in—its fate consumed.
For patience comes a bitter price,
And treason’s debt is paid in vice.
As fascist filth now claims its might,
Beneath the Sun—we’re cut from light.
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The Road to the Global Asylum
A mindset shaped by ads alone—
The path was long, yet carved in stone.
The fools grew loud, their minds grew weak,
The madhouse gates are now in reach...
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Vegetable Warehouse
Cipollino… Ripe tomatoes…
Will the VEGGIES rise once more?
Yet the lies have built volcanoes,
Blocking out the distant shore.
Cipollino screams for brothers,
But they cannot hear his cries.
GMO turns all to others—
Livestock dressed in a disguise.
No way out, no grand tomorrow—
Only stew and mashed remains.
Peppers, onions, tamed in sorrow,
Bow before their foe in chains…
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Artificial Degradation
What is soft will fade away,
What is hard will stay.
Mind and soul are torn each day—
Evil paves the way.
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Youth and Age
At dawn, I walked to meet the sun,
Yet darkness loomed behind the glass.
By dusk, my path was overrun—
Bent to the night, forgot my past.
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Monuments
They stand like ghosts in graveyard haze,
As if their lives were golden days.
Yet in the ground now cold they lie—
Once minds of strength, now left to die.
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The Gullible Ones
They chased a dream through stormy tides,
Their "joy" was built on hollow lies.
Once more they bit the poisoned bait—
A fool’s belief in blissful fate.
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Once you were bold, so full of fire...
Now all that's left is cursing dire.
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Brothers in "Literature"
Will ensure culture’s sepulture:
If courage fades, then you will find,
It can't rise up, it’s left behind.
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Hopeless idiots, and most of them...
Idiots, fooled by every trick,
They march ahead, both blind and quick.
For without a change in the beasts’ core,
They whisper, “Soon, all will be no more.”
An old tale, but now, it's grotesque,
As blood in veins grows cold, in distress.
The beasts’ blood runs, yet still we see
A protest born from nostalgia's plea.
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The few are not in wold the freaks,
So we are Nature’s shame, it speaks:
Idiots, fools, and crazy minds,
In nonsense, years are left behind.
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To craft a miniature with care —
A big achievement, if there's flair.
But if it births a vulgar rhyme,
Erase it quick — don’t waste your time.
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A man’s like a cheburek —
Juicy with filling, crisp and sleek.
But for a lifetime, they pack it tight
With nonsense, fear, and lies to fight.
Weigh the filling, break it down,
Into segments: fear and frown,
Fragments of joy — hold them fast,
For those are the truths that will last.
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If only a trace
Of creativity’s grace,
Conquer fatigue,
Cast pity away,
Take the final leap—
And don't drift in dismay.
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A mania of grandeur,
Through every guise it’s pure,
No strength to hide it now,
It merges with the soul somehow.
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Journey to Nowhereville
Step by step to Nowhereville —
Every stride’s a clumsy spill.
What is Nowhere? Just exhaustion.
Hang in there — you’re near the crossing.
Nowhere’s not on any chart —
Just a dot in Fog-of-Heart.
Fired up, you made it matter —
Yet it’s hellish, false, and shattered.
There’s a way to break the trance:
Pause, and give your mind a glance.
Look around with eyes unclouded —
See the MADNESS all enshrouded.
On the Path, there is a guide —
Almost instinct deep inside.
Hold to reason, hold it tight.
Chase illusions with your light.
Cleanse your thoughts of haunted dreaming —
Find the Truth beneath false seeming.
You’ll arise, no more decaying —
SPIRIT’S MOTION — ever staying!
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The Toady Folk
Toadies crave a fatter ration,
Crush the world with savage pride.
Luck is drawn to their vocation —
Satan's standing by their side.
Toadies rule as lords and leaders,
Every petty crook and boss.
Fools line up to serve as feeders,
Paying rent to Satan’s dross.
Rent in Hell is paid in spirit.
Sell your soul — ascend the stair!
Honor? Conscience? None will hear it —
Blabber rules the market there.
He’ll explain the "higher missions"
With a zeal that’s cold and grim —
Thrilled to earn his low position
In the cattle pens with him.
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Puppet Politicians and the Sheepish World
Just a bunch of lifeless puppets
On the screen — while fascist muck
Chokes the world of sheepish comforts.
Such a sight — it deeply cuts.
During CowID they were preaching
Rotgut lies with poisoned teaching.
Now they've got a brand-new war —
Hear them wailing, craving gore.
Off they drive the fools to slaughter.
Nations? Gone. It doesn’t matter.
So the world, in grand despair,
Spills toward the devil’s lair.
Hell is near — a brand-new version.
This one needs a vile conversion:
Cleanse the land for beasts to nest —
This dark soil suits jail the best.
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The Puppets
The puppets dance in sync, delighted —
Their strings pulled tight by hands unseen.
Between the acts, they gripe, short-sighted:
“No cash! No breaks! This life is mean!”
They’ve had enough of whips and lashes —
Now lies and gold take center stage.
Their minds reduced to tattered ashes —
The theater burns, and yet the rage
Is sold as “special stage effects.”
What sense can wooden fools express?
The beams are cracking — all’s a wreck.
Get out — or vanish with the mess!
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The Death of Natural Farming
The earth bears fruit in freedom’s way —
But such a truth they can’t abide.
They flood the fields with waste and grey,
Industrial madness far and wide.
For sprouts of freedom dare to grow
When soil breathes clean, beneath the sun.
So poison’s mixed in warlike flow —
A global mess for everyone.
They’ve labeled toxins “pesticides,”
And “fertilizer” means pure sleaze.
They turn the farms to labor sites —
Like gulags masked as industries.
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Mouse-Sized Happiness
A roof above one’s head often prevents people from growing.
— Stanisław Jerzy Lec
The burrow presses on your brain —
You see no light, you feel no pain.
To gather crumbs, the rats decree:
"Lie and praise our colony!"
"Tell the young it’s paradise.
Fear and faith — the combo’s nice.
Lack the zeal? Then face the blame.
Not from hate — it’s just the game."
For the rule is iron-tight:
March in step and squeak just right.
Hear the anthem, loud and shrill —
Propaganda, dressed to kill.
Play along — you’ll find your bliss
In some mousehole’s dark abyss.
Speak against it? You’ll be gone.
Best keep your tiny mouth shut, son.
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The “Magic” of Propaganda
Unbewitched, you don't belong —
Propaganda rules the song.
Any movement out of line
Falls to rot — by foul design.
Rot is shaped through slick campaigns,
“Education” fans the flames.
Thus, officials form a crew —
Thugs in ties, corruption’s glue.
And the masses, led like sheep,
Turn to dullards, shallow, cheap —
The new mainstream prototype,
Built on slogans, fear, and hype.
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In Their Service...
Not by noose, but fear they slay —
That’s the modern tyrant’s way.
Hard to stand and just be you
When the dogs all cower too.
Few remain with souls intact —
"Serve the Darkness!" — that’s the pact.
Lose your soul — and all you see
Melts to false reality.
Mirages drift to MADNESS' gate —
CowID showed the world that fate.
And the hounds bark loud and tight:
“Fetch!” — they’re fed for blind delight.
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The Rule of Satanism
Chains of sorrow aren’t by chance —
Evil planned this grim advance.
This “amazing world,” you see,
Is ruled by goats — satanically.
Wars and crises, endless plagues —
All designed to raze and break.
Year by year, the kind and wise
Fade beneath the flood of lies.
Donkeys led by bold deceit,
While fake problems flood the street —
Easily “solved” with broken laws,
While freedom dies without a cause.
Then — much worse. The beast returns:
Hidden fascist fire burns.
Through collapse, they try to win
With the same old game and grin.
Prospects? None, when fools hold sway.
Dark and brutal years await.
But the sun will blaze its way —
Scorching all this rot and hate.
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Slavery
The word “slavery” is banned —
Not by law, but by the mind.
That’s how tyrants took command,
Drowning truth in filth redefined.
Simple truths are left to rust.
A child might see them clear and plain —
But lies, injected from the crust
Of cradle days, infect the brain.
He'll call this madhouse “civil life,”
And slavery — “my right to choose.”
He picks his poisons with no strife,
Blind to how they’re meant to bruise
His health, his strength, his mind each day —
A question just of dosage rate.
But bit by bit, he'll waste away,
His “thoughts” reduced to spite and hate.
All worsened by the early blow
From school, the news, and TV trash.
No life — just filth in steady flow:
A slave, dumb-struck by fear and flash.
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Choked by the Dark, or The Soul’s Last Stand
Seal the path that leads away —
To betrayal, fear, and lies.
Only trials fill the day
For the souls that still stay wise.
Facing doom like tanks of dread,
Armed with Words instead of bombs.
Better fall before the red
Sunlight touches Hell’s calm swamps.
In the light, the weak may choke,
Gasping where the brave would stand.
Call it hypoxia’s stroke —
When resolve slips from the hand.
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All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me