Morning’s Duller Than the Night
If your day was fully spent,
Morning feels less bright, less keen.
Tighter schedules—every cent.
Idle? You are less than seen.
-------------------------
March and Marathon to Versailles
A run to Versailles,
Like hunger foretold.
The Beast rules the skies—
Moloch takes hold.
The signal is clear—
A tradition of old.
Then lies will appear,
As police stand bold.
-------------------------
Sports on the Zombie Screen
"Oh sport, you’re the world!"
But the world’s a foul swirl.
They drown us in pain,
The call's “Attack!” again—
CowID, war,
We’ve hit the floor.
Total media reigns,
Lies are believed,
Sports are their chains,
In a world deceived.
Strong and tough they sell—
Like humans, we’re food for their hell.
The fool believes it, too,
In this twisted view.
The Devil's in charge—
It’s endless, large.
-------------------------
Different Kinds of Sports
Forget the litre-ball, and football too,
It’s all just nonsense, nothing true.
Study the tyranny of the dark,
Sports are harder—years to embark.
Checkers, chess, and Go—
They fade when faced with this woe.
So much in sports to see,
As we’re crushed by the beast’s decree.
It’s just the starting stage,
Time to grow into a sage.
A smart young man—like a log—
Through the years, the mind’s a fog.
The champion’s time will arrive,
When you’ve found ways to survive.
But you’ll fail if you believe
That the slaves will ever leave.
It’s tough—this super-sport’s a test:
How to save a world that’s less,
Where two-thirds are fools at best.
-------------------------
Resting Amid the Chaos
I rest amidst the chaos wide,
For media’s grasp is far and wide.
These forces I shall multiply,
To fight the lies, to reach the sky.
Against the media, the beasts,
Who stir the world’s chaotic feasts.
We must resist, or face the cost—
Or else the beast will pull us lost.
-------------------------
Conventional Books
A petty slave in chains of mind
Sees the "world" through books confined—
From the kitchen to the loo,
All he knows, he takes from view.
Legends shape his hollow creed,
Makes him think he's fine indeed;
"Law is just," though firm and grim,
Since the world is just like him.
"Friendship’s sweet!"—yet reeks of treason.
What’s a bond when rot’s the reason?
Where’s the "norm" in filth and lies?
Fear and madness—your disguise!
-------------------------
On the Road to the Pen
Lost in darkness, seeking grace,
Yet meet the Horns in Hell’s embrace—
For the Pit is all around,
But we fear the bleeding wound.
So, impaled, we hush our cries,
Dare not claim the Devil’s near.
Then we wake with clouded eyes—
See but cattle, trapped in fear.
No more screams, you sell your soul,
Step by step, the Pen is near.
Once inside, you lose control—
Thoughts are banished. Mind unclear.
-------------------------
Sellout Teachers of Nonsense
More of nonsense—more belief.
Lies and filth now stand as chief.
Born into this hollow scheme,
Where deceit is law supreme?
If you haven’t—start to ask,
Truth is there behind the mask.
Seek your answers, make them real,
Not the ones they fake and deal.
-------------------------
The Eraser and the Elastic
Elastic fools—so weak, so hollow,
Twisted minds too numb to follow.
Broken souls, like cans of meat,
Served to beasts—obedient treat.
Bend and break them, twist their sight,
They endure—no will to fight.
Sin is just their daily bread.
Freedom’s myth. The depths we tread.
No escape, no higher calling,
Lies and madness keep enthralling.
Only Chaos wipes the slate,
Crushing demons, cleansing fate.
Yet the Eraser spares the few,
Not as doom, but as renew.
Through the fire, through the flood,
Spirits rise from dust and blood.
-------------------------
The "Sacred" Shall Perish
The "sacred" fades, its end is near,
Its priest’s corpse rots, defiled, severe.
And should you yield, give up the fight,
Your mind will vanish into night.
Crush their idols, mock their lies,
Laugh at priests with scornful eyes.
For sarcasm is the cure we wield,
Lest to their madness we must yield.
-------------------------
The Brand of a Slave
Forged iron is out of date,
But still, it seals the twisted fate—
What’s deemed "good" by society,
Bears evil’s ugly quality.
Not "who," but "what" defines the soul—
A broken, hollow, empty goal.
He sweeps the filth of Earth away,
While his son’s left to clear the decay.
-------------------------
The Struggles of Knowing This Hell
Once lost, there's no return—
That’s the truth we live and learn.
No curses left, no words to say,
"Blessings" all, like dust, decay.
Poor and lonely, that’s the key—
Only then you truly see Hell's plea.
The full-fed man is blind, astray,
Three-quarters of them—beasts at play.
-------------------------
The Olympic Marathon in Paris
Beside the Invalids' Dome,
The finish line's a greater home
Than in the "CowID" world of dread—
Old age and staff, yet still it said:
"You're just a fool!"
Exchanged the lies for heresy,
With evil’s grin, they set it free—
Through lies and fear, through filth and rot,
The darkness shows its mighty plot.
But stronger still the rider black,
Who rode with speed along the track—
Upon the water, swift, foretelling
Death in Hell—no "heaven" dwelling.
-------------------------
Famous Figures with Staffs at the Paris Olympics
Clowns with staffs, they pull the sheep along,
The start is near—get ready, don’t go wrong.
What they call "original" is just a show,
For those who can’t see—this world’s a blow!
Once there were muzzles, now the staffs remain—
The beasts grow clever, but they still bring pain.
They've turned us into cattle, low and vile,
The staff strikes—Satan’s bell, the warning’s style.
-------------------------
In the Desert
Stand strong through trials, strain, and sorrow,
Leave fears behind—no more to borrow.
The path is harsh, the climb severe,
Yet on the peak, the sky shines clear.
To reach is hard—to rise is harder,
Mere will alone won’t make you farther.
But vision’s flight, the spark of knowing,
UNTAMED DESIRE, ever growing—
They’ll guide you if you hear your spirit,
Not hollow whispers—don’t adhere it!
The desert winds may howl, deceive,
But see the truth—and rise, believe!
-------------------------
Entropy
No true talent stays unshaken
Where the vulgar shadows creep—
Mediocrity is vacant,
Yet it pulls the strong ones deep.
But no sorrow—keep your distance,
That’s the only way to stand!
Else decay will claim existence—
Entropy’s relentless hand.
-------------------------
Writers and Poets in a World Gone Mad
A wall of words won’t shield or sever
From MADNESS creeping in the seams.
It eats away—it gnaws forever,
Till talent drowns in broken dreams.
Yet there’s no escape or turning,
Give in—and all will rot away.
If you feed the world’s mad yearning,
You will sink in blind decay.
So build your wall with words unbending,
Layered high, three rows in line.
Every year, the strain’s unending,
For the world is steeped in Strife.
BEASTS are culling fools in masses,
Showed it clear in "CowID" rites.
War and terror—sickening flashes,
Drowning all in waves of Blight.
But hold on—just wait a minute,
Soon the storm will tear apart.
With the crash, the world will finish—
FASCISM FALLS, devoid of heart.
-------------------------
Beyond the Quotes
I cast beyond the quotes and traces
All that truly matters most,
Breaking habits, scorning faces—
Such a choice will bear its cost.
Hey, O energy, ignite me!
Let me burn with fearless light,
Till the flames consume me brightly,
Flaring fiercely into night!
-------------------------
Not My Path...
Step by step—
You'll lose your way.
Forget the path—
Break free, don’t stay!
Behold the Flight—
It dwells inside.
But fools march blind
To Hell with pride.
-------------------------
The Use of "Revolutionaries" Clearly and In the Shadows
Che Guevara won’t remain empty,
If the plan’s a fool’s game,
Carried out like a simple plenty—
It’s not a gift, it’s not the same.
To tear the world apart in pieces,
Drowning all in blood and cries,
Promising false joy to the weak ones,
Blaming all the pain on lies—
The plan is simple: split and tear,
And scream "Forward" through despair,
Leading souls to hell’s own pit—
That’s the script for fools to fit...
-------------------------
There’s No "Mystery of the World!"
It’s bleak, insane, repulsive, and vile…
A half-wit world—what mystery in this trial?!
When you break the nonsense they’ve forced on your mind,
Skeletons in closets are easy to find.
The master of the cupboard’s “solid and grand,”
But vain, cowardly, corrupt in his hand.
In this vulgar world, the wise don’t last long—
The honest, the brave, the true, and the strong.
Yet ruling the world, unseen, a cruel beast—
The politician’s a clown, his minions the least.
Total lies cover all this deceit—
The masses can’t see the truth beneath.
The cause is clear—ignorance reigns supreme:
"Religion," "school," "science"—the world’s cruel dream.
Corruption has reached its ultimate height:
CowID and war sunk the world out of sight.
What’s left to do? Seek the truth within,
Reject all their teachings, their "wisdom", their sin.
Will you find it? Unknown, but at least you’ll try…
Or remain a mad slave, and wonder why.
-------------------------
The Infernal Dump
From a cosmic view, it's clear and true—
The Earth’s not threatened by Tartarus, but by the zoo.
Arthur Schopenhauer said it loud,
The trash of the world, both dark and proud.
The dump’s a given, and Tartarus
The hidden ruler, silent, thus—
It veils the truth with lies and flame,
A world of folly, blind to blame.
In minds, the filth is what we hold,
The consequences in Nature unfold.
The wise are few, and NOTHING’s strange—
Everywhere, the “norm” has changed.
-------------------------
Sports Commentary
The commentator babbles on,
Repeating nonsense, all day long.
The world drowns deep in lies and fear,
While reason fades, it disappears.
A tiny breath from that same trash—
A little sip to keep it stashed.
Not "Save our souls!"—no need for shock—
The masses crave the simple flock.
-------------------------
Advertising
Adverts, oh Mother, save the child from lies—
The goal’s not sales, but to warp our minds and ties.
Alongside propaganda, they stand in line,
"Education" breaking, a force so malign,
Crushing thoughts and dreams, aiming high,
The result: fools, with decay not running dry.
-------------------------
Slogans
"Peace for the world"? No, "Nonsense—NO!"
To chaos, that’s the answer we show.
Peace comes when the madness fades away,
For in MADNESS, truth’s just led astray.
-------------------------
Olympic Swim in Dirty Water
A school swims through the Seine—
A race, a marathon.
They said "no" to cancellation,
Though the muck goes on and on.
The athlete’s strong in body, mind—
Illness means nothing to him.
The pain of sport is more refined,
Like work that wears you thin.
What’s painful here is simply this—
Only the top three are crowned.
The rest will fade into the mist,
Their struggles lost, not to be found.
-------------------------
A Pamphlet on "History"
I began to read the history book,
In the editor, where lies I’d unhook,
Trying my best, day spent in despair—
A pamphlet emerged, with nothing but air.
-------------------------
The Roulette of Scoundrels
The roulette of wealthy districts is clear: bet on zero,
If you’re a seasoned scoundrel—then luck’s your hero.
The world: it’s TOTAL EVIL that wins the game,
To stay wise through it all—now that’s real fame.
War and CowID have shown it so well,
The crowd is insane, and the slave’s fate is hell.
They’ve called it "freedom," but it’s all a disgrace,
With lies that are brutal, and submission to face.
-------------------------
Rowing for Yourself
In this wild paradise, don’t lose your grip—
Row harder, push, don’t let it slip.
And crush the weak where bread is made,
Shove, defeat—let none invade.
-------------------------
Fallen Talents
They sought "success,"
To express their mind—
But dared not confess,
To fight, not to hide.
It takes so little
For fragile talent to stay,
But to fall, a giant's
Thoughts slip away.
Here it happens often,
The question that lasts—
"How quickly you’ve risen?"
If you yield, you are passed.
-------------------------
The Fool’s Endurance
The fool has pushed patience too far,
Though there was plenty, there’s a bar.
Though I’m no saint, and not so pure,
Even so, this test’s obscure...
-------------------------
Countdown, or the End of "Civilization"
It’s over now—the people’s fate,
No longer third-class, but second-rate.
Forget your books, so filled with thought—
The idiot’s lost, and all for naught.
Nature rises, fierce and wild,
The sun shines brighter, more reviled,
Year by year, it grows the same—
The end of days has come to claim.
Start the countdown, slow and clear,
A year, a day—then disappear.
Each year it worsens, the end’s near,
The fool grows dull, the stump severe.
A few exceptions won’t change a thing,
Genocide through generations—this is the ring.
Triumph for the vile, the filth, the swine,
As they rise up in a twisted line.
Destroy these creatures, cast them out,
Sacrifice the slave, without a doubt.
In lies and madness, the world decays,
The madhouse crumbles, lost in the haze…
-------------------------
Related Sports
Shooting at targets,
An attack on the mind,
When life’s all so shallow—
Sex, money, and grind.
The last sport is popular,
Time to rise and soar,
For the stubborn and proud,
Give them something more.
Records to break,
Games for their pride—
Paper tigers at stake,
If they dare to ride.
-------------------------
The Poet’s "Daily Chronicle"...
"Art analysis?"—Who cares!
You can't sell such foolish wares.
Besides, they'll start to read, no doubt—
And that’s the last thing we'd want out.
-------------------------
The Mouse Psychology
Hear a lot,
See but rarely.
Stay in silence,
Hate unfairly.
Scorn the closest,
Yet adore
Those whose madness
Fuels the war.
Praise and follow,
Kneel and swallow,
Never dare to
Call a traitor—
Not a parrot,
Not a monkey—
Madness always ends in payment...
-------------------------
The Cuckoo Lost Its Mind
The cuckoo snapped and chimed away,
Few years for worlds that rot and sway.
Around—fanatics, fools, deceit,
Save your Soul before defeat!
Not with false faith, but knowledge bright—
Though in a world of fascist blight,
They call it "memory" instead,
To crush young Reason till it's dead.
So guard your mind—don’t let it break,
Don’t play it nice with soulless snakes.
Stand up, seek truth, don’t just obey—
It lives inside, not in their fray.
-------------------------
Pain and Scorn
Poets hold no grand solutions,
Only pain—so let it spread.
They may mock your contribution,
Let them sow their lies instead.
Seeds of evil, sown in treason,
Will take root and rise in time.
Truth must fight—it needs no reason,
Crushing lies is toil, not crime.
Pain’s the fuel, pain’s the fire,
Use it, shape it—make your way.
Demons march at fate’s desire,
Turning "paradise" to gray.
Would you walk with those so hollow?
Doubt it—so embrace the sting.
Poets, gods, and pain—they follow
None but truth—let beggars cling!
-------------------------
Approval for Anything
Never stand in strong objection,
What they tell you—nod along.
Twists and turns in each direction,
Power slithers, sly and strong.
Yesterday was "No!"—forget it,
Now it's "Yes!" without a doubt.
Fools will cheer and just accept it,
Blind approval wins throughout.
Say a word—they'll bite and sting you,
That’s the way the game is played.
Yet they’ll bribe you, too, to bring you—
Serpents always find their way.
-------------------------
Mixed Relays and Other "Equal-Gender" Madness
They mix the relays, races, guns,
A world where gender blurs and runs.
And soon they'll lie in pairs to rest—
For "equality" is best.
Not raised in strength, but dragged to dirt,
It’s easier to rule the hurt.
They preach "fair play," yet all the same,
Obedient sheep are clipped and tamed.
They care not for the "equal right"—
Their minds are wrecked, their souls are slight.
With fear and filth, they drag it low—
The world decays with every show.
They've tested this in CowID,
And found how easily you plead.
How few resist, how many bow—
The crawling mass obeys somehow.
Submission walks with madness near,
Two rails—one track that leads to fear.
And when the fools embrace the lie,
How few remain who don’t comply.
-------------------------
The Poet’s Problem
With no life lived, they dared to write,
Their lines—just fluff for youth’s delight.
"Love" without chains, blind praise of lands…
It’s time to see, to understand!
This world is Hell, decay runs deep,
No time for odes—just wake the sheep!
No whispered songs, no gentle art—
Strike hard with verse, tear lies apart!
-------------------------
Sports in the Age of the Sheep-Virus
Empty stands, a masked-up face,
Shots enforced—insane embrace.
Dystopia? No, just today,
Where tyrants rule and minds decay.
Fascism spreads across the lands,
Beastly power in their hands.
More to come—don’t be so sure,
Faith now fades, control is pure.
-------------------------
No Problems at All
A poet’s world knows no distress
When all around is pure unrest.
Though marked for shots in this grim mess,
He speaks—he will not share their rest.
He speaks—while others call it fate,
Their little troubles fade away.
Yet he won’t march with fools who wait,
He walks alone—his own true way.
-------------------------
Medieval Ways of the Paris Olympics
Three strikes of the staff—
Sheep, onward, march!
Through water, through path,
Race to the arch.
The prize is set—
"The finest sheep!"
Strain and sweat,
The end runs deep.
A rider storms,
The Seine runs red—
Who’ll take their forms
When sheep are shed?..
-------------------------
Vegetable Farming
The harvest swells, the crops arise—
But stay alert, don’t close your eyes!
What if one bold Cipollino
Sparks a riot in the feeble?
Labeled weed and cast aside,
Drowned in nonsense, justified.
Keeps the cycle nice and clean,
Rotting deep—but all unseen.
Through the ages, through decay,
This "fertilizer" paves the way.
Call it harvest, praise the lie—
Let the veggies dream of "sky"!
-------------------------
Innovations in Track and Field, and Beyond
The races lost—"humanity"
Reaches its final plea!
Caught in stupidity,
The law is hard to see.
The total chaos, endless,
Is tough to even spot.
For now, no criminal—
Just puppets in their plot.
They speak, but no one listens,
Their "humanism" a lie.
With those who bow to sinners,
The beasts will watch them die.
-------------------------
The Pitiful "Publishers"
A poet’s book, once prized and bright,
Now just a fee to fill the pike.
So much nonsense, so much trash,
In a world where dreams all crash!
Poets are poor when truth they seek,
Lost in the dark, the future bleak.
Forget your boast, don’t play the fool—
They’ll push us down and drown us cruel.
Soon we’ll sink in propaganda,
As oceans rise and drown the land.
That "publisher"—just another pawn,
In a gang that sweeps all light gone.
-------------------------
"Gender Equality"...
But they are not the same!
Fools are multiplied
By this toxic flame…
-------------------------
The Beast Crawls Through the Screen
The beast crawls through the screen—
A sheep believes in "history" obscene.
And further still, it’s clear to see—
The death of FREEDOM’s mind will be.
-------------------------
Preparing Vegetables
Archery’s new star, Cipollino,
A fool now—just another hero.
A simple VEGETABLE, he stares,
Believes in madness, opens lairs.
This is how they make a Salad—
A world of minds so dim and pallid.
Inject the poison, send them to fight,
Only VEGETABLES deserve the night.
-------------------------
Suffocation by "Cares"
No need for "cares" or efforts grand,
To "improve"—a sheep’s life, dull and bland.
What they showed us in the time of CowID—
The bought and sold will bleat and heed.
-------------------------
All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me