Traitors and the Media
Pseudo-presidents impotent,
They rule this stale, foul cesspool.
Just the filth of lies ferment—
Propaganda makes the fool.
Through the media, they brazenly reign,
Vile monsters, scum and grime.
Dumb masses drowned in their domain,
Sneaky traitors in their crime.
With “orders from above” they steer,
Propaganda's brutal whip.
They won't leave fools in peace, I fear—
The beast commands: “Attack, don’t slip!”
-------------------------
Traitors and the Media
Impotent pseudo-leaders rule this stinking pit—
Nothing but shit, propaganda’s hit.
Brazen fiends pull strings behind the screen,
Swarming fools drown in their obscene machine.
Traitors sneak, they crawl and scheme,
Slaves to lies, obeying the regime.
“From above” the orders drop like knives,
Propaganda’s lash kills freeborn lives.
No rest for fools, no mercy shown—
The beast commands: “Strike hard, strike bone!”
Rot and venom in every breath,
Traitors and media dance with death.
-------------------------
All Is Lost!!!
Mayors dull —
“Peers” push the pull,
Serving Evil’s twisted goal.
Pseudo-presidents, goat-like fools,
Lead the sheep to fight the fight.
Fucking fascism wins the day
With howls of hate that never sway—
Propaganda, wild and vile,
Would make Goebbels cringe a while.
Those attacks so sharp and fierce,
Loaded lies like bombs that pierce—
Hiroshima’s just a sneeze.
All is lost! All’s disease!
Three-quarters mad — this world’s a joke,
In psychosis deep we choke.
-------------------------
The Only Mask
The world’s a masquerade,
One mask worn tight—
Its name is Fear,
Worth not a mite.
If it should cling,
A grafted shell,
Then you’re a scum,
Your life—pure hell.
-------------------------
Delusion
It will linger — seems, it seethes:
Dream and fog that never ceases.
Few will wake — the rest will moan,
Dullards howling soulless drones.
Propaganda whines and bleeds,
Stupefying, sowing seeds.
Fiends triple the lying dose —
Now that lie becomes the knife.
Showed CowID the sacred way —
Lies can kill without delay,
When two-thirds are raving clowns
In a world where Hell wears crowns.
-------------------------
Rot
A dark parade of man-made idols,
Self-portraits styled as sacred titles,
Fake hagiographies where horns are photoshopped.
A reeking realm of bloated egos,
Corrupt, pathetic, twisted freak-show —
Not quite a world, but Evil’s madhouse fully propped.
Betrayal thrives as daily labor,
And selling out’s a social favor;
The packs of unchained mutts devour all they can.
Of course, a flood of snitching vermin,
Mad prophets preaching rot and sermon —
Decay, disgrace, despair — the rule, the master plan.
-------------------------
Che-e-e-e-se!!!
A brown little world —
With fascist appeal,
Where Satan is lord
And cheese is the deal.
"Free cheese!" — they all scream,
And dive for the prize...
But once in the scheme,
It’s straight down you slide.
Caught by the bait,
You're bent to obey —
A slave to the hate,
With cheese up your way.
-------------------------
The Reeking Madhouse
Lost every chance, and the minds are all wasted,
Their souls long sold — in bulk or in bits.
Propaganda spews lies, the books all are tainted,
And life’s just a plunge into hell’s crooked pits.
Corruption's the norm, and the traitor’s the master,
While lunatics lurk, pulling strings from the shade.
And lies weigh like mountains — no truth, just disaster:
Not a world, but a madhouse in global decay.
-------------------------
Global Decay
Sold out and broken, the freaks run the show —
Truth lies in chains, and madness will grow.
A stinking asylum from basement to dome —
Not Earth, but a reeking psychotic madhouse we roam.
-------------------------
Paper War and the Mind-Control Screen
The paper war is done —
It crawled into the screen.
We've hit the bottom run —
And thought has fled the scene.
Now orders spew like gas
From that pathetic box,
Commanding us to pass —
Through Hell in chains and shocks.
-------------------------
Mind Rot
The screen commands. Obey or die.
No mind remains to ask them why.
A paper war, now dressed in screens —
And Hell is real. It's in the beams.
-------------------------
Verbal Slop and the Mass Schizofrenization of the Slave Herd
All hail the verbal slop!
Insanity runs deep.
We’re near the final drop —
Then down the hill we sweep.
The screen keeps spewing stew —
This mix of lies and glitch.
Where does it lead us to?
Just Hell. You brain-dead bitch.
The sheep consume the lies,
Their minds begin to split.
Where truth and reason dies —
It’s shit on top of shit.
The avalanche will slide —
No need to push or shout.
But while it bides its ride,
Each moron still digs doubt.
-------------------------
Slopfall
They feast on lies with vacant eyes,
While reason breaks and madness flies.
The avalanche begins to grow —
Too late to run. Too dumb to know.
-------------------------
Money
"A man must be dead to choose money."
— Marina Tsvetaeva
A shrinking skin, reversed —
That's money, cold and clever.
It grows for those well-versed
In hoarding — praised forever.
Yet every coin they crave
Steals soul-space, drop by drop.
Thus Devil marks his slaves —
Their bribe the filth they swap.
-------------------------
Soul for Sale
You count your gold — the crowd applauds,
But something rots beneath the clods.
The Devil smiles: "Well earned, well paid —
Your soul was cheap. The deal was made."
-------------------------
Blood Money
You gained respect — and lost your soul.
The Devil grins. He’s in control.
-------------------------
The Trembling Fiends
“Trembling fiends — do they have rights?”
Traitors, countless as the weeds.
They grow among the people’s sights,
Dragging all down to the weeds.
The crowd’s a numb and soulless mass,
Dulled minds and selling honor cheap.
Few brave, few sharp — the rest will pass
As traitors prey on fools asleep.
A vulture rules, they claim, “the boss,”
But only serve the fiends’ commands.
This scum destroys the whole at loss,
Herding morons to their camps.
-------------------------
Trembling Fiends
Fiends that tremble claim their right,
Traitors thrive and snuff the light.
Sheep led blind by vulture’s call —
To the camps of fools they fall.
-------------------------
Trembling Fiends and Rights to Earth
“Trembling fiends — do they have rights?”
Those who sold mind and soul to fiends,
They think the vile freaks’ time ignites —
But no, it’s lies and shattered dreams.
Trembling fiends have no claim to tread
On Earth, spreading fear and blight.
Deep in Nature’s core, soon fed,
Cataclysms rise to smite.
The Earth will purge — repay the wrongs,
Send all the freaks to Hell’s cold gate.
Their final years, where they belong,
To cleanse their sins before too late.
-------------------------
No Rights for Fiends
Fiends who shake have no right here,
Selling soul for filthy cheer.
Earth will cleanse with wrath and fire —
Sending freaks to Hell’s own pyre.
-------------------------
The Poet’s Pain
The poet’s pain — it never dies:
No hurt, no poet in your eyes.
Only sheep don’t mind the mess,
The savage nonsense, senseless stress.
The sham life’s drivel, worn and thin —
Endure the ache! Just write through sin!
Shed pain’s blood, let anguish spill —
And die! Dismiss disgrace, be still.
Call sanity a joke instead —
Scream out loud! Blow up in dread!
If chaos can still break the chains,
Endure no evil, bear no pains.
Aiding fiends? You’ve lost your way.
Better death than shame’s foul sway.
No mercy here — just hellfire lies,
The devils roast us with their lies.
For weaklings dull, no wrath or fight —
The poet’s path is pain and might.
To edge and brink be true and raw,
Destroy with words — reveal the horror.
-------------------------
Poet’s Pain
No pain — no poet’s voice to claim,
Only sheep ignore the flame.
Burn with truth, resist the lies —
Better death than silence cries.
-------------------------
The Murk
A wretched snake keeps crawling slow —
Murk sprays poison as it flows.
The fool believes it’s honeyed balm,
“All for my ease, my fake calm!”
They jabbed the junk — it’s nothing real.
The war’s begun — the Nazi’s seal.
That snake wriggles like a worm
Inside his guts, begins to squirm.
And rot remains the final trace,
The muck that fills that cursed place.
The dumb are left to pay the cost —
The cruel mockery of lost.
-------------------------
Murk Creeps In
A filthy snake slips deep inside,
Poisons spread, can’t run or hide.
Fools swallow lies, decay unfolds —
The end is rot; the truth it holds.
-------------------------
A Grim Gamble: Will They Finish You Off or Not?
A trumpet’s cry flies over earth...
Or is it shame, or pitiful dearth?
The world’s become a filthy latrine —
The Spirit gone, the Mind’s unseen.
The trumpet speaks: the End is near,
No human hope, just brutal fear.
The fiends promise thickets of lies...
You trust those beasts? Then kiss goodbye.
You’ll piss your soul away in that drain,
Submit? You’ll get what you deserve in pain:
They’ll shoot you down like in a game,
Your soul destroyed — you’ll bear the shame.
-------------------------
Last Shot
A trumpet screams — the end is near,
The soul’s betrayed by lies and fear.
Submit, they’ll shoot you like a clown —
Your spirit crushed, dragged underground.
-------------------------
The Standard of IntelleXtu
The grey nag’s ramble rides the mind,
A tangled tale, a quest confined.
Fools and wise don’t often blend —
True thinkers now are scarce, my friend.
The grey nag’s ramble is the sting
Of propaganda’s cruel wing.
For propaganda rules supreme —
Its power drains the world’s last dream.
Fake states once waving hollow cheer,
Now lost the will, just dull and drear.
Gray, vulgar, empty — that’s the source,
Add greed to fuel the deadly course.
This toxic mix, a TNT blast,
Will tear the world apart at last.
If two-thirds fools now run the show,
It’s time to end this tragic show.
-------------------------
Toxic Breed
Gray nags drag minds through endless lies,
Propaganda’s stench will rise.
Two-thirds fools rule this broken stage —
Time to burn the final page.
-------------------------
Quivering Vermin
“Am I a trembling worm, or do I have the right?”
Dostoevsky asked in dark daylight.
The trembling vermin claim their “right” to kill,
To lie and fool the numb and still.
Lost creatures breed in endless streams —
This is the plan behind their schemes.
Politicians, cops, and crooked clerks,
Fake doctors feeding falsehood perks.
Souls sold out to evil’s plan,
Slaves to lies, a rotten clan.
So if that’s true — they “have the right”
To feast on crumbs at fiends’ delight.
Monsters vile, betrayers all,
“Rightful” scum who watch us fall.
-------------------------
Trembling Scum
“Am I a trembling scum, or do I own the right?”
Dostoevsky’s words cut through the night.
These trembling scum claim license to kill,
To lie and fool the dumb at will.
Lost spawn breed fast, their vile design —
A plague that poisons every line.
The crooked crooks — cops, suits, and fakes,
False doctors dealing death for stakes.
Souls sold cheap to darkest lies,
Slave vermin with no compromise.
So yes, they’ve got the “right” to feast
On scraps amid the bastard beast.
Monstrous filth, betrayers’ brood,
“Rightful vermin” in the fool’s hood.
-------------------------
The Ring of Slavery
The Earth is filled with madmen slaves,
Again the graves will mark the waves—
A new Armageddon’s brought to bear,
By fiendish pests who do not care.
Chains clench tight inside the mind,
And sickness there is all they find.
Almost all the scum at work,
In lies’ deep swamp where shadows lurk.
Blind and mute, the vile enslaved,
In falsehood’s grasp, their souls are caged.
The start is lost, the end in sight—
This cursed ring repeats the blight.
All will loop again once more,
If reason shrinks to something poor.
New chains arise to plague the land,
A verbal flood from evil’s hand.
Slaves remain forever blind,
A shame upon all humankind.
So here the cursed circle stays—
The madmen lied to, once more, always.
-------------------------
Dilemmas and False Dilemmas
Not your problem —
If your verse won’t spin.
No true dilemma —
If your poem’s grim,
Fierce and raw —
Discard what’s fake,
That rotten business:
Bribes, hype, and flake,
Other cheap boosts.
Life’s too short to waste.
Be firm, be sharp,
Not fool’s haste.
Write your lines.
Dilemmas mean more —
A sign, not false,
Of truth’s core.
For a world beyond,
Prepare your soul.
This one will burn.
Let your lyre roll
Towards the new —
Where spirit soars,
Not chained by lies
Or hollow wars.
-------------------------
Hell’s “Paradise”
A sickly sky —
A fool’s dull “paradise,”
Lives wasted, thrown away —
Choke down your “joy,” don’t think twice.
The vile rules of scum,
They know but chains and pain,
Glad to obey —
Dumb mice, silent, slain.
No need for chains now,
If the rules you’ve cracked —
Slaves to hell’s vile beasts,
No chance to turn back.
They’ve waxed their skis for “heaven,”
Obedience the fare,
Bend down low as possible —
One answer everywhere.
-------------------------
Realities
The simple truths of Global Foolery —
A stain unwashed, death’s only cure.
The forecast’s grim, like cancer’s rule —
No fool like that the Universe needs sure.
His vain delusions mean no weight,
His words are weak, pathetic, small.
The hunt is on — to end his fate:
The Earth with such a stench will fall.
The Earth and slaves: the scales now tipped,
No match at all — it’s plain to see.
But Darkness spreads — few have awoke,
And all can see the filth’s decree.
-------------------------
The End
No words, however harsh and rough,
Can twist the truth — it’s far too tough.
In this new “realm,” deceit runs wild,
A nightmare vast, by lies beguiled.
Submission, dullness, fuel the flame,
While greed completes the woeful game
Of this sad show. The rotten script
Of propaganda’s death is writ.
Clear as daylight, all can see
The End of Shameful History.
Fascism, genocide advance—
Total doom has come to dance.
-------------------------
To the Blogger
A relay of pain,
Truth and the way,
That leads to Freedom—
While beasts at bay
Get beaten down—
That’s what’s real,
No empty talk,
No false ideal.
-------------------------
Repetition, Damn It!
Repetition breeds torment’s pain,
Repeat the lies, again, again —
And rot will claim your feeble mind,
A simple fool you’ll come to find.
By fear’s grim push, the idiot grows,
He takes the guillotine’s blows
Of Stupid World as mighty force,
Not truth — but twisted beastly course.
Decay will feed on greed’s demand,
Where pigs set norms with filthy hand.
They’ll snort and bark, and chase away
The sharp, the wise, who dare to stay.
-------------------------
The World’s Grand Race
“The longer the dead-end, the more it looks like a road.”
— Mikhail Turovsky
A race is set with fragile thread,
All tuned to surge ahead!
No scum has told us, yet, the truth:
This race leads to a blind booth.
Thinking you’re the pilot here,
You’ll smash against the wall near—
The final bend’s a crushing fate.
Serves right — don’t trust the shit you hate.
-------------------------
What You Think of Yourself
What you think of yourself—
Just a common myth.
But what you really dwell on—
That’s the true glyph.
-------------------------
What You Think of Yourself
What you think—just empty myth,
A shadow cast, a cryptic glyph.
But what you muse on deep inside—
There lies your true, unmasked guide.
-------------------------
What You Think of Yourself
What you think’s a fleeting myth,
A veil, a symbol, dark and swift.
But what you dwell on, deep and vast—
That’s the soul’s true glyph, its cast.
-------------------------
The Enigma Within
What you hold — a whispered myth,
A shadow cast by veiled abyss.
But thoughts you chase — the silent glyph,
A cryptic sign you barely kiss.
Not self, but sign, the veil you lift,
A secret script, a mystic drift.
In minds obscure, the riddle grows,
Where no one truly knows — but knows.
-------------------------
Just Business?
"America’s no land — it’s just a deal,"
Brad Pitt said once, the truth to steal.
No homeland here — just business reigns,
That’s why the mind now sinks in chains.
Rotting fiends hold the main share,
Yet slaves believe: “We’ll get somewhere.”
“Just business” masks the top facade,
Beneath — genocide’s cruel rod.
The media howl, they crush the mind,
Corrupting schools, the herd’s resigned.
And crowds will chant “Okay, it’s fine!”
While shadows breed their vile design.
-------------------------
Just Business?
"America’s no land — just filthy trade,"
Brad Pitt’s truth — a bitter blade.
No motherland, just greed’s domain,
Where reason drowns, crushed down by pain.
Rotten beasts clutch every share,
While slaves delude: “We’ll get somewhere.”
“Just business” — lies to blind the crowd,
Beneath the gloss, genocide’s loud.
The media howl, minds they enslave,
Schools rot to graves, the masses cave.
And fools all shout “It’s fine, it’s right!”
While shadow fiends thrive in the night.
-------------------------
They sell your soul for filthy cash,
While you applaud the devil’s smash.
Wake up, you slaves — your chains are real,
Or kiss your fate, kneel, and kneel!
-------------------------
Expressing Truth
“To write with grace, with force, with ease,
One must express the truth, no less.”
— Jean de La Bruyère, 17th century
The truth of slavery — vile, total, deep,
That drags the world through centuries’ sweep,
It stirs the sharp, the bold, the keen,
But few remain where fools are seen.
To write for fools?—unnatural, strange,
So nonsense grows and thoughts derange.
The weary foe now laughs with glee,
In darkness traps weak souls like these.
-------------------------
Truth’s Harsh Expression
Truth of vile, total slavery’s chain,
That drags the world in endless pain,
It wakes the few — the sharp, the bold,
While fools stay blind, bought and sold.
To write for fools? That’s poison’s breed,
A breeding ground for lies and greed.
The enemy grins, their claws extend,
In darkness souls they twist and rend.
-------------------------
Truth Cuts Deep
Slaves chained tight in darkness’ grip,
Fools drunk on lies — they’ll soon all slip.
Enemy’s trap, a cruel art —
Darkness feasts on broken heart.
-------------------------
The Mass-Culture Dump
Christopher knows well the dump we face —
That mass-“culture” pit, a dark disgrace.
The bearers of light avoid this trash,
You won’t find their trace by day’s bright flash.
-------------------------
Mass-"Culture" Dump
Christopher knows the dump too well —
That mass-“culture” cesspool swell.
The bearers of the light? They flee,
By day, by fire — no trace you see.
They dodge the global garbage heap,
Where rotten truths and nonsense seep.
A world of filth, they won’t approach,
Their “light” confined, a hollow coach.
-------------------------
All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me