Get the Hell Out
Annunaki —
Get the hell out!
Like all the vile crowd about.
Stick your Hell’s lies
Right where it fries.
We are the people, strong and proud.
This Earth belongs to us alone,
Not to your poison, cold as stone —
Lies like fake AIDS, CowID’s plague,
Division, war, and mind’s vague plague.
Take your venom deep inside,
You deserve only Darkness’ tide,
Hell’s own slime where you reside.
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Annunaki, off and gone!
Hell’s lies shoved where pain is drawn.
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The Overseer
The Overseer from the “sky,”
Below — the Law of Dark,
Bread and circus, all a lie,
A rotten, putrid mark.
Sacrifices made each day —
Just to dwell in Hell’s decay.
Souls decay, the mind corrodes,
Lies mocked under twisted codes.
The Overseer of Hell's domain —
No others here remain.
A dark swarm of bought-out fiends,
Nearly all are sick, it seems.
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Hell’s Overseer rules above,
Darkness cloaked in lies, no love.
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The Exorcism of Demons
Exorcism of demons — CowID’s core,
Once Inquisition ruled before,
Now fascist scum in vile reprise,
Fake tests serve their dark disguise.
The herd obedient marches blind,
No thought remains, left far behind.
Their minds replaced by creature’s cries —
Only the zombie box supplies.
Don’t talk to me of wise and bright,
Nine out of ten are dull and trite.
They feed the fiends, a cursed lot,
And fools are now the norm forgot.
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Demons exiled, CowID’s lie,
Fascist scum that won’t deny.
Fools march blind to their own doom —
Zombie box commands the room.
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Rotten Tuxas
Rotten Tuxas rules us all —
(Just hiss that word, a guttural call!)
And soon will strip from us our mind,
No Thought, no Art — just gut confined.
Only digestion left to feel,
That’s the grim, dull, rotten deal.
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Transcendence
Meanings… they lose all sense.
Their loss brings new intents.
Even pure thoughts may arise —
But thought’s collapse won’t disguise.
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Ode to Hitler and Goebbels
Oh, Hitler and Goebbels? Not such a disgrace—
Compared to the scum who now run this place.
At least they had visions, though twisted and dark;
Now puppets serve demons for a coward’s reward.
Speechwriters deliver their filth to the beasts,
Advisors breed slogans that stink like disease.
And slowly they boil us, each word is a trap—
If you try to escape, they poison your breath.
They cook us like frogs in a lukewarm deceit,
Call it “humanity” while turning up heat.
Then comes the switch: “freedom” means choosing a cage—
Between types of lies, then comes fascist stage.
A stage so refined in obsessive control,
That Hitler and Goebbels might cringe at the role.
No match in deception, no rival in spin—
The plebs are deranged by the fraud they breathe in.
So let’s praise old Hitler, sing songs for his horde—
Compared to today, he was less of a lord
Of total mind-twisting and psychotic despair—
Now truth is the enemy. LIE fills the air.
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Today’s fascist wears a grin —
Truth is gone, and lies begin.
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Hitler’s ghost would pale and hiss —
You’ve outdone him. Welcome to this.
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You fear the past? What childish bliss.
The present drowns in deeper piss.
-------------------------
The past was evil — crude, direct.
Today, it smiles with more effect.
-------------------------
They preached a cause — however vile.
Now puppets kill us with a smile.
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Not Hitler, no — it’s you who lie,
And cook the world while asking “why?”
-------------------------
The frog still smiles inside the pot.
She calls it freedom. Knows it’s not.
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Manifesto of the Lies of the New Age
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT
1.
They call it peace — and bomb your mind.
Then ask you kindly to be kind.
2.
The tyrant wears a rainbow now,
And speaks of rights — while you learn how
To silence truth, to fear your voice,
And praise your cage as “freedom’s choice.”
3.
They murder slowly, feed you sweet.
Consent is grown in every tweet.
4.
Your thoughts are scanned, then gently banned.
But smile — you’re free, they understand.
5.
The greatest lie is not the past —
It’s now, it's here, it’s built to last.
6.
You must obey — for your own good.
You must conform — as free men should.
7.
The new Gestapo’s dressed in code,
Its bullets: words. Its courts: upload.
8.
Each screen’s a pulpit. Every face
Repeats the script. Deny — disgrace.
9.
Your chains are soft. Your jailers — kind.
And yet they amputate your mind.
10.
They’ve killed the soul — with no regrets.
But call it "care". And clear your debts.
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Speech Before the Burning — Series One
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT
1.
I watched you trade your fire for foam,
Your hunger for a mirrored home.
You prayed to glass, to likes, to brands —
While wolves devoured bloodied lands.
2.
You made your soul a sleek device,
Then sold it twice. And called it nice.
3.
You feared the truth, so praised the lie.
Now lie with it. And wonder why.
4.
You crowned the cowards, mocked the wise,
Burned prophets live — then wept in cries.
5.
You whispered: “Love.” And built new drones.
You kissed the dead through silent phones.
6.
You gave your children screens and pills,
Then taught them pride in crafted kills.
7.
You fed your rage through filtered feeds.
Then asked: “Who planted all these seeds?”
8.
You knelt for trends, not sacred flame.
You fought for rights — then lost your name.
9.
You called it progress: rot and waste.
The gods you birthed now have no face.
10.
So here’s my word before the blaze:
You built this end. You set the days.
And now — in smoke, in screams, in pride —
Watch all your golden dreams… collide.
---
Speech Before the Burning — Series Two
(the fire speaks now)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT
1.
You laughed at gods. You mocked the seers.
Then prayed to markets, drones, careers.
2.
You sterilized the sacred breath,
Then wondered why you smelled like death.
3.
You burned the books. You banned the word.
You feared the sword — then praised the herd.
4.
You let machines rewrite your name.
Now bleed in binary and shame.
5.
You paved the Earth with apps and gold,
Then called the silence brave and bold.
6.
You drank from screens. You danced in loops.
You smiled as children hung from roofs.
7.
You traded blood for “climate laws,”
And bowed to death in branded cause.
8.
You feared the flame — yet struck the spark.
You screamed for light — then worshipped dark.
9.
You banned the word “eternal soul.”
Now rot as data with no goal.
10.
So here I stand — not asking why.
The sky is cracked. The void is nigh.
And from this ash, if breath returns —
Let it not be you who burns.
----
Ashes of Empires, the call of Spark
(third, final episode of "Speech before the burning of civilization" - the voice of Spark)
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT
1.
When all is ash, and kings are bones,
One whisper walks through shattered tones.
Not rage. Not hope. Not heaven’s flame —
But that which speaks without a name.
2.
I am the flicker — not the fire,
The breath that stays when gods expire.
You burned the maps. You broke the frame.
But still I hum beneath your shame.
3.
No shrine is mine. No priest, no law.
I hide in silence, crack, and flaw.
The more you lie, the more I grow.
You cage yourself — I start to glow.
4.
I speak in dreams you fear to see,
In questions whispered inwardly.
I dwell in loss. In scorn. In fall.
Where empires rot, I seed the call.
5.
You cannot code Me. Fence Me. Buy.
I live in those who learn to die.
Not death of flesh — but death of mask.
The death that dares to drop the task.
6.
You’ll meet Me not in pride or fame,
But once you shed your final name.
When silence swallows even “you” —
Then I, the Spark, ignite what’s true.
7.
I spoke to stars before the clay.
I bled through prophets cast away.
They burned — yet through their smoke I sung.
Not through the strong — but through the stung.
8.
So burn your world. Erect your hell.
I’ll not resist. I rise in shell.
In cinder, ember, broken breath —
The Spark is That which dances death.
9.
And if one voice, just one remains,
Unbranded, raw — with soul, not chains —
Then know: the End is not the end.
It’s where I start. Where I ascend.
10.
So call Me madness. Curse. Mirage.
I am. I was. I will dislodge.
And when your towers melt and fall —
I am the Spark… beneath it all.
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Unread Texts
Unread lines of poets, bold —
Unbought voices, never sold.
Songs alone, without applause —
Still, you lived for truer cause.
Moments lost? So what — you stayed
Free from snitching, unbetrayed.
In this madhouse, truth is grim,
Writing feels like crawling limb.
Each new day brings fresh despair —
Still, create — or lose all flair.
Thought grows dull, and vision fades,
While the grayness slowly raids.
Though no rest or sweet relief —
You’re unbroken by the thief
Of the soul — that filthy pest,
Demon dressed in Sunday best.
Satanism’s global trend
Birthed new -isms — each a bend:
Commies, Nazis — masks, not new —
All designed to murder you,
Your own mind to rot and drain.
Listen only to your brain.
Promise nothing. Swear no oath —
Pledges always poison growth.
Like young pledges, fake and blind,
Promises corrupt the mind.
Still your efforts won’t be vain,
Even shown in minor grain.
Unread texts — a sharp reproach
To the mutants who encroach.
They preserve the Spirit's flame —
Noble tombstones built from shame.
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Propagandists "By the Law"
All the propagandists
Now beyond the law,
Breaking codes with impunity,
Throwing lies by tons on fools —
A flood none saw before.
They sow hatred, call to fight,
Genocide’s vile calls ignite.
Ditch that screen of endless lies —
Or you’ll be nailed to false disguise.
You’ll turn zombie, deaf and blind,
Led by lies that twist your mind.
Fight they say — but fight you won’t,
End inside a stifling haunt.
There your spirit’s crushed to death,
Zombie’s breath replaces breath.
But the suckers? They just hear,
Piss their pants in blindest fear…
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Propaganda’s Dead
Propagandists break every law,
Feed you lies until you crawl.
Zombies march to false command —
Fools just piss themselves on stand.
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Moles and Sheep
The stubborn mole
Keeps digging holes.
The sheep’s worn out—
No care, no doubt.
He doesn’t mind
The lies at ground.
More slaves aligned—
You’re just their chow.
The mole’s much sharp,
He sees more clear,
His spirit strong—
They’ve got no fear.
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Worldwide Cargo Cult
Cargo cults and cargo folk,
Cargo Führer, cargo smoke?
Darkness real — minds run thin,
Buried deep in filth and sin.
Cargo memes, cargo themes,
Cargo souls, cargo schemes.
Totems all of Satan’s kind —
Ruled by beasts who chain the mind.
Doom is set by scum like these:
Cargo armies on the breeze—
Traitors marching, none will say
They’re the scum that’ll pay.
War’s no war — just lies in play,
Euphemisms hide decay.
In that war, the soul’s the cost—
Sold it cheap, and all is lost.
If you bow to villain’s call,
Shit yourself beneath their thrall.
Cargo’s edge is razor-thin —
Cross it, goathood pulls you in.
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Cargo Cult Edge
Cargo lies, cargo slaves,
Souls sold cheap to hollow graves.
Bow to filth — you’re marked, you’ll fall,
Thin line leads to goat’s dark thrall.
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Fascists and Their Acolytes
No one’s born a fascist true—
They become what they pursue.
Accidental helpers? No,
That deception’s set to grow.
How many German clans must pay
For evil sown in foul display?
For bowing down to Führer’s lies,
For fear that stifles truth and cries.
Fools too will answer there—
The mindless herd, unaware.
Don’t know fascism’s deadly bite?
No diagnosis—no insight.
Fools all lack diagnosis—
“Normal” made their paralysis.
Not long will last this foolish pause,
Where rage and lies break every clause.
All feel safe from any cost—
But harsh justice won’t be lost.
Those who fight will stand the pain—
And not much longer till the reign ends vain.
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Fascist Fate
Fascists rise, but not by birth,
Helpers sink into the earth.
Fools won’t see the coming storm—
Justice strikes, reshapes the norm.
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So-Called Clever Bastards
No signed papers on their war,
No stamped proof to back their score.
War’s a joke to scum like them,
Just the zombie-box’s hem.
They think revenge won’t come to court,
No signatures, no last report.
Two hundred thousand dead, more torn,
Their “economy” left to mourn.
Billions lost, three generations’ pain,
Orcs will pay, remorse in vain.
These beasts will hang, no tears or cries,
When Ukraine marches to her skies.
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No Mercy for Bastards
No signed war, no proof, no shame,
Thousands dead — their lasting blame.
Orcs will fall, no tears, no lies,
Ukraine claims her rightful prize.
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Incapacitated Fools
Incapacitated fools —
The masses all, in droves and schools.
That’s why fascism’s deadly rise
Was pumped into their vacant eyes.
Fascism thrives now in the mind
Of those the world would label blind.
A fool, of course, seems quite the charm—
But no brain means no alarm.
You’ll let it all, you’ll buy the lies,
Invite the evil in disguise.
It opens wide your door to Hell,
Or morgue, if luck decides you well.
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Fools Unfit
Fools unfit run every crowd,
Fueling hate like it’s allowed.
Open doors to Hell’s own grip—
Luck decides your final trip.
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Fools’ Doom
Fools breed hate, no mind, no fight,
Hell’s wide open—your last night.
Luck’s the thief that steals your light.
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Fools’ Doom
Fools breed hate, with empty minds,
Blindly falling, tied in binds.
Hell’s wide open — no one fights,
Lost within their endless nights.
Luck’s a thief that steals your light,
Doom descends with cruel bite.
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Fools’ Doom
Fools breed hate — so smart, so bright,
With empty heads, they pick a fight.
Hell’s wide open, come on in —
No brains needed to lose or win.
Luck’s their angel? Ha! What joke —
They’re dancing straight into the choke.
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Fascist "Nirvana"
Sheep-virus freak, a fascist pawn,
A traitor, "doctor," snitch at dawn—
This world of theirs, "stable" they claim,
Where madness rules, and fear’s the game.
Stable lies and genocide,
Deceit and terror never hide.
Shame and disgrace choke like a cloud—
Their suffocating "nirvana" shroud.
You’re not there—just ghost and trace
Of soul and mind, a hollow space.
More woes will come, their grip won’t slack—
Fascism’s hold will never crack.
Save your soul by fighting lies,
Smash the falsehoods, seek the wise.
Their vile song is sung, complete—
The scum will face their bitter defeat.
A worldwide storm will shake the earth,
True life will spring in Spirit’s birth.
Thus vile fascism fades away,
The beasts will die—their final day.
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Fascist End
Fascist scum, your song is done,
Your lies exposed, nowhere to run.
Fight for soul, the truth will rise —
Beasts will rot beneath clean skies.
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Era of Zombie-Lizards
Zombie-lizards trample Earth,
That’s the state of things, no worth.
All the lies they gladly take,
Under Goat’s dark rule they break.
That Goat, a mastodon so sly,
Hungry, wicked, sly and high,
Fires lust for reptile throngs—
Reason weak, so quickly gone.
Every lizard, soulless, cold,
Fits the Goat’s design so bold.
No need for minds or deeds refined—
Only vile beasts stay aligned.
Gnomes and goblins will be swept,
By these lizards, doomed and kept.
All the Abyss now watches near—
Their end is certain, death is here.
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Zombie-Lizard Age
Zombie-lizards crush the land,
Goat’s foul hunger rules their band.
Soulless beasts, their time will end—
Abyss awaits, no chance to mend.
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The Construct of Lies
Just markers set in half-truth’s maze,
Half-lies that spark a thousand plays.
Provocations, isolated schemes,
All woven into phantom dreams.
Each point—a whetstone sharp and vile,
A poisoned sting in “proof”’s style.
The world of fascist propaganda,
Dumb recipients, mental veranda.
That madhouse now is worldwide,
Long since madness claimed the tide.
Two thirds lost their common sense—
That’s the bottom line’s expense.
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Lies’ Design
Half-truths bait, half-lies ignite,
Proofs that stab like poisoned bite.
Two thirds lost, no minds intact—
World’s a madhouse, that’s a fact.
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Lies’ Brutality
Half-truths slash like venomed knives,
Proofs fake-carved to ruin lives.
Two thirds dumb, minds rotted, gone—
World’s a madhouse, full-blown con.
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A Joke...
The great Russian graphomaniac,
Tolstoy—yeah, that Lev, no magic.
"Wars and Peace" he wrote — a bore,
A novel weak, and nothing more.
Generations brainwashed blind,
By this rage that’s so unkind.
Not the worst, but still a shame—
Icons forged in flawed acclaim.
Literature’s lost its way,
Truth drowned out by tons of sway.
Time to ban the rotten critique,
Protect the bold, the true unique.
Extend their lives by giving aid,
Help their talents not to fade.
But such hope’s a foolish joke—
Humanism? Just a cloak.
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Literary Joke
Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” — a bore,
Brainwashed kids for ages more.
Critics rot, true writers fight—
Humanism’s dead, just spite.
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Villainy
“Villainy’s the only ground
Where man can stand firm and sound...”
— Saltykov-Shchedrin’s claim,
From his 1883 frame.
Villainy’s no timid mess—
It’s the soil beneath your dress.
Hard ground strong beneath your feet,
While “smart” fools just face defeat.
Before a bastard’s gaze,
Their weak arsenal decays.
Brakes apply, no jokes at all—
Are you villain? Or you fall.
Attack is stronger than defense,
Always ruthless, no pretense.
Villains strike with crueler blows,
No honor, shame—only foes.
So become the villain’s part—
World fascism plays its art.
Together Soul and Mind we slay—
Life itself fades fast away.
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Villain’s Ground
Villainy’s the solid ground,
Where true strength and power’s found.
Strike first, no honor or shame—
Or fade out, lost in the game.
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Brutality...
Russia’s plague-house, dark and grim—
Fascism takes another limb.
It burns — false messiah’s face,
A pitiful, vile disgrace.
Deep inside, the trench is dug,
Crushing those who chose to shrug.
Fate is death for all who sold—
Kreml’s scum and servants cold.
Yet the filth still tries to shove
Dicks down throats of those who love
To bow down, lost mind and pride,
Once again they poison, lied.
Only brutal harshness dwells,
Where the poison’s sharpest spells.
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Russia’s Plague
Plague-house Russia burns in shame,
Fascist scum ignites the flame.
Filth feeds fools who lost their mind—
Brutal poison, all combined.
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Fortresses and Masses
Impenetrable forts of fools,
Heavy masses, lies that rule,
Fear and stench, a culture lost,
Soulless shadows, endless cost.
Cargo cults of fascist plague,
False diseases, lies that plague—
While the wise grow weak, subdued,
Reason crushed and nearly booed.
Pure Spirit fades, will soon depart,
Leaving beasts without a heart,
Locked away in pens and dens,
Soon dragged forth for bloody ends.
The world’s a slaughterhouse, exposed,
Yet sheep and asses stay composed.
Though lies crash in waves, the ninth,
They’ll drown the last of humankind.
Fascist filth keeps sinking deep,
Their lies push on—The End will reap.
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Fortress Fall
Fools’ strongholds rise, but lies will break,
Soulless beasts stir, the earth will shake.
Sheep stay calm while truth’s erased—
Fascist filth speeds End’s grim haste.
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Horns and the Slave’s False Life
When conscience wakes and reason’s sharp,
The lies will end, the falsehood’s tarp—
Where they mold sheep and donkeys too,
Crafting fools to follow through.
They shape your face with vile deceit,
Write “live” like truth—but it’s defeat.
The filth they plant, you’ll take it in,
Then horror grows beneath the skin.
That tale’s a nightmare, horns protrude,
Its core: “obey,” be slave subdued.
Content with fate, a broken role—
A prisoner chained, body and soul.
Burn it down, erase, curse loud,
Live with your mind, awake, unbowed.
Your Spirit’s home is what you own—
Escape the gloom, reclaim your throne.
When intuition turns the light,
You’ll easily expose the blight.
Doubt only “tradition”’s sway—
With it, the horns will fade away.
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Slave’s False Life
Conscience wakes, the lies will fall,
Sheep and goats break every thrall.
Burn the fog, reclaim your mind—
Horns will fade, the truth you’ll find.
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All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me