They found no virus — just control.
Fear is the leash for the soulless fold.
-------------------------
No virus — just lies for the herd.
Bow to the fear, you pitiful turd.
-------------------------
No plague, just a priest in a lab coat —
And masses who die just to stay afloat.
-------------------------
The Gospel of the Germless Lie
In the name of control, they sold you fear.
With every whispered lie, they drew you near.
You bowed to the mask, the needle, the claim —
And the virus they birthed was their hunger for shame.
But now, the truth shall break through the veil,
Expose the faceless gods who set sail,
On ships of deceit, to conquer your mind,
And leave you a slave, forever confined.
You worshipped the lie, so be cursed by its breath.
No virus was born — but you knelt before death.
They masked your soul, not just your face.
And led your mind to a slaughterhouse race.
Needles of mercy? Tools of control.
You traded your blood for a government role.
The germ was a ghost — the panic was real.
And cowards knelt down to the jackbooted heel.
They sold you salvation, but the cost was your will.
With chains of illusion, they made you stand still.
Your body, a vessel — they filled it with doubt.
A plague of the mind, as they shut you out.
The truth is a weapon, they’ll silence its sound,
For in it, the power to burn lies to the ground.
You feared the unknown, they fed on your dread.
Now see the real virus — it’s what’s in your head.
They built you a cage from the whispers of fear,
Fed you with poison, and now you are here.
The virus was never more than their name,
A weapon of silence, a tool of their game.
Their lies are the chains, their truth — the abyss,
A hollowed-out world where the soul cannot exist.
They blinded your eyes with a glint of the sword,
And turned every prayer into a plea for the Lord.
But the truth is a fire, and it’s burning inside,
And no lie will stand when the flame is your guide.
The virus was never a plague on the skin,
It rotted the heart, and it festered within.
Now rise from the ashes of fear and despair,
The truth is a storm, and it shatters the air.
They sold you their lies, but the cost was your soul,
A puppet on strings, but now you are whole.
The gods of the mask, the kings of deceit,
Will tremble and fall — for the truth is complete.
And when the dust settles, and silence remains,
You’ll stand in the fire — and break all the chains.
-------------------------
Madness Tachometer
Ugly dealings, foul conditions —
Fiends now rule the global stage.
Darkness thickens with their missions,
Spilling lies and breeding rage.
Waves of falsehood, floods of dumbing —
Idiots in full command.
In this world, depraved and numbing,
Fools oppress with heavy hand.
Brave and honest, wise and grounded —
Even they feel crushed and small:
Evil grows, resistance’s founded —
Sanity’s about to fall.
World of morons, bought and hollow —
That’s the BEAST’s desired fate.
And it’s coming — look and swallow:
Redlines past a hundred rate.
-------------------------
Madness Tachometer 2
1.
Fools in charge, the brave are drowned —
Evil spins the world around.
2.
Sanity’s a dying spark —
Lies advance, and all goes dark.
3.
Idiot rule, and truth is banned —
Madness tightens its command.
4.
The throttle's jammed, the end is near —
The beast now drives — no brakes, no fear.
-------------------------
Roses and Storms
"How fresh, how pure the blooming rose..." —
What crap, when all the world’s in flame!
Just one more way the rot still grows:
To drown our minds in pinkish shame.
This rose-fed filth is war's foundation.
Your very soul — the target claimed.
Can’t see the Hell in decoration?
You’ll call the vile divinely named.
It’s total slavery — screw your roses,
Your tears, your dreams — begin to see:
The storm, the dark — that’s where the truth discloses
The mass hypnosis of the beast’s decree.
-------------------------
Two-Stroke Engine
Push and burn —
Let it roll!
Lies up front —
Then comes the toll.
First, deception.
Next — the kill:
Second stroke —
The genocide drill.
Mind erased,
Then soul goes black —
Hell’s own engine,
Lie-fed track.
-------------------------
Two-Stroke Engine 2
1.
Lies ignite — then slaughter flies.
Hell runs smooth on silenced cries.
2.
Two strokes: lie, then execute —
Truth is strangled, mute and brute.
3.
Fuel the beast — deceive, destroy.
Mind and soul are not a toy.
-------------------------
Two-Stroke Engine 3
1.
Two strokes: the veil, then soul’s collapse —
The void inhales through smoky traps.
2.
Lies spark the wheel, then silence falls —
The spirit fades in engine calls.
3.
Deceit ignites, then shadows churn —
The soul forgets the way to turn.
4.
Mind erased in mechanized breath —
The engine hums the hymn of death.
-------------------------
Two-Stroke Engine 4
1.
Two strokes — and gone: the inner light.
The link is snapped, no truth in sight.
2.
Engine roars — the Source denied,
A soulless drift in poisoned tide.
3.
A flash of lies — then all goes mute:
Cut from the Root, we serve the brute.
4.
From Source to sludge — the fall is tight.
The soul is scorched in engine-blight.
-------------------------
Two-Stroke Engine 5
I. Spark
They sold the lie as sacred flame —
We lit the dark, forgot our name.
II. Cut
A hiss, a hum — then silence bled.
The Root was severed. God was dead.
III. Drift
Unanchored minds in circuits spin,
No voice within, no breath, no kin.
IV. Hollow Core
The soul once burned with living truth —
Now runs on fumes, in deathless youth.
-------------------------
New Fashion
Two forks now dangle from your cap —
To catch the noodles on the flap.
But if you’re sporting a tricorne,
Then bring three forks — stay well-forewarned!
They’re quite the trend — with lies a’pouring,
From “friends” who stab you while adoring,
Without them, fog clouds every glance —
No change ahead, no second chance.
Just lies and lies — in layers stacked,
A powder-dusting lie on crap.
A fork won't pierce the crust, in fact —
You’ll need a pitchfork. That’s the map.
The weight of nonsense breaks your back —
Then stab it deep with pointed tack!
And toss it all — the burden’s fake:
At root of all this BS — Snake.
-------------------------
New Fashion 2
1.
Forks won't cut it? Get the spikes —
The age of fluff is ruled by tykes.
2.
Too much crap for just one fork —
Time to storm with pitch and torque.
3.
Truth’s too tough? Then stab the fluff —
At root: a lie, disguised as "stuff".
4.
Three forks hang — a fashion tale.
One for each new public fail.
-------------------------
Marxism
"To be in chains — even for freedom — is vile."
— Karl Marx
Beneath the yoke, the people bled
By comrades’ hands, in every age.
They sold a myth of freedom’s thread—
And wrote brute force on every page.
They built their Camps. Then came the screams:
“Behold the bright Socialist light!”
Their flag was soaked in bloody dreams—
Marx’s gospel: red and spite.
-------------------------
The End of the Grim Tale
Inspector Death
Walks through the Souls —
The earth holds breath,
Corpses lose roles.
For soulless flesh
Is heaps of rot —
So grasp it fresh:
What’s Spirit’s not
Is filth and shame —
Mutated breed
Of slaves who maim
The rebel creed.
The Fire will burn —
For Spirit, grace.
The tale will turn —
All stench erased.
-------------------------
Habit Rules
Habit — the ruler, cold, commanding.
Darkness molds patterns, day by day.
And “grazers,” tamed, not warriors standing,
Seek “happiness” in foul decay.
-------------------------
Tyrant Habit
Habit — the tyrant, crowned and blind,
While Darkness stamps the herd's design.
No warriors rise — just sheep that grind
For scraps of joy in filth and swine.
-------------------------
In Shit They Hunt for Joy
No will, no fight — just sheep obey.
Dark molds the mind. They rot, and pray.
-------------------------
Abuse — or Consuming the Evil?
"Abuse is the vice of all customs, all laws, all human systems. No library could hold their full account."
— Voltaire
Let’s open up Akasha’s scrolls —
A massive tome, a sprawling wall.
There lie our lies, our twisted goals;
And Evil Consumption tops them all.
Below — delusions, sins, perversions,
Spawned by the patterns Evil sets.
No lessons learned, no soul’s conversions —
Just goats made out of human wrecks.
It’s all by template — mass regression.
A moron proved the grand design:
Consuming evil — full obsession;
The world now drowns in filth divine.
A blazing shame. A world malign.
-------------------------
They Feed on Evil
They feed on filth. They kneel. Obey.
The world’s a shrine of foul decay.
-------------------------
Dwarfs of Pseudo-Science
The dwarfs line up, all smug and neat —
No gun required for this defeat.
Their “science” rots the mind and breath,
Quite often dealing silent death —
Fake plagues, DDT, and lies,
All masked in “soulful,” friendly guise.
-------------------------
Ideologies
"It is hard to find a black cat in a dark room... especially if it isn’t there!"
— Confucius
They’ve hunted that cat for ages gone,
And in the dark found quite a haul —
Ideologies, blind and strong,
Where fools are ruled and nations fall.
-------------------------
Ideology Rules the Blind
"It is hard to find a black cat in a dark room... especially if it isn’t there!"
— Confucius
No cat. Just chains. And fools enshrined.
-------------------------
Build Your Own Dream
To wait in vain, to hope and ache,
Build your own castle in the air.
The world of sheep on promises fake,
Is built on lies, disguised as care.
-------------------------
Promises and Lies
They promised all, with bags of cheer,
Yet all we hold, we guard with fear.
They led us by the “carrot” game,
And lie to selves, just the same.
-------------------------
Results, Again
Once more we wait for "results" to come,
Though the starting point was all undone.
Those results, a price we must pay,
The fool still learns nothing, day by day.
-------------------------
The Fool's Bait
The fools are baited with paper’s grace,
They toil from dawn, no end to chase.
Call it slavery — they’ll laugh it off,
At “success,” they’ll die, so proud, so tough.
For now, like corpses, they still strive,
To feed the beasts, to feel alive.
-------------------------
Earthly Chaos and Talent
They’ll help you bury your true gift —
A plot of land, advice to lift.
“In God’s name,” they’ll say, with empty thread,
Of Universal Nonsense, widely spread.
Talent’s a spark of God within,
Bury it, and you’re dead to sin.
Let them judge you harsh and wild,
With that spark, tear down the vile.
-------------------------
Permanent Fascism
Fascist regimes, they’re countless, vast,
Built on tolerance — fear to last,
Subjugation, lies, deceit —
Not citizens, but those in defeat.
Destruction’s strength, it moves, it shifts,
New names, new tortures, none to lift.
This vile plague endures through time,
A sport to serve, a twisted climb.
If fools are stubborn, let them be —
No problem here, just bend the knee.
The “leader” judges all we face,
And if “democracy” should grace,
It’s ruled by greed — the rich embrace.
-------------------------
Moloch of Programming in the Internet Trash
The program — the admin’s plight,
A stream of nonsense in the night.
Let it hum beneath the din,
It leaves its marks — a trace within.
Traces of fatigue, despair,
Wasted labor in the air,
The end — a frame of useless "info,"
For those who feed, who crave to grow.
Useless sites, the endless waste,
Bland crap, forced into haste.
You’re always striving, trying hard,
Designing junk — the iron bard.
Moloch’s endless, always here —
The trash heap waits, the end is near.
We’re growing savage, lost, undone,
The outcome — idiots, each one.
And those idiots are now the throng,
The majority, where they belong —
Corrupt, the vile, the dead inside —
Where Evil reigns, and truth has died.
-------------------------
Cartoons
Cheburashka and Crocodile,
Winnie the Pooh and Piglet's smile —
It’s sweet, but fools were in the crowd,
Most of them, just loud and proud. "God"
Of Communism, it rots away,
As does fascism’s grim display.
Under the weight of beasts and lies,
Mind and Spirit slowly die,
And idiocy grows each year —
A perfect crowd, so void, so clear.
To rule the fools is simple, true —
A ragged mob, to lead them through.
Tested by false disease’s plague,
A bottomless pit — their lives to drag.
Cheburashka, Crocodile,
Winnie, Piglet — all the while,
That was then, now gone, and lost:
Satanism reigns, at what a cost.
-------------------------
The Sawmill
The hut of the brute — that’s the law.
What’s a sawmill? Here’s the flaw:
We’ll speak it clearly, without delay —
It’s a school, where logs decay —
A launch into life for fools,
Without a spark, without the tools.
All the force, they push it through —
Logs instead of sages, true.
The exceptions are few, so slight,
The beasts rejoice at their new plight.
Dumbing down is now the game,
Life’s a joke, a constant shame.
-------------------------
Loneliness
"Whoever loves solitude, either is a wild beast or the Lord God."
Francis Bacon, 17th century.
A spark of God, the lonely heart
May keep in Bedlam, torn apart;
Amid the wretched, wild and low,
The mind and spirit, bruised, can grow.
-------------------------
Kobzon's Concert
Impressed by the Kremlin’s vile spawn,
I’ll head to the slaughterhouse for pay.
The greater harm we cause, headstrong,
The denser the ranks that will stay.
The monsters that then will arrive
For Kobzon's concert, fierce and loud.
What will crush me to dust, deprived,
Is unclear to the foolish crowd.
We'll strike the village with a missile,
That’s gathered for the mournful rites,
A noble deed, a heroic whistle —
For any order, there’s no fights.
Kobzon’s waiting, though he’s sung
Praise to countless thousands long,
In trash, in vile, deluded tongue,
Fascism will drown them, all along.
And the new wave will rise to gain
The honor of Kobzon’s twisted show.
A mercenary fool, in pain,
The result of lies — his own blow.
-------------------------
Code:
Endure, you fool —
The "reward" awaits.
Though small the gain,
You're not insane,
If you can flee
Beneath the heel
Of cruel ordeal,
And freelance dance
Into decadence.
-------------------------
Sisters
"The fates of things are truly sisters to their nature."
Francis Bacon, 17th century.
The mad sister, younger still,
Follows the fool on her dark way:
The primitive world, wild and ill,
Again lies about enlightenment’s sway.
-------------------------
Confusion Before the Poor Vale
Discontent with oneself — the start of the Way.
And loyalty is marked by pain —
Through thorns to the Light, for it's hard to stay.
-------------------------
The Kremlin bot will find you,
Invite you to the obedient crew:
Not just one screen will tell,
Believe the beasts — you’re a fool as well.
-------------------------
Foundations of the World Order
A fool plus a piglet —
The base of this vile world.
The fool, moreover, stays silent.
And so this cycle's unfurled.
This madness is without end —
No place for wisdom to be found,
For the wise won’t shear the sheep,
Nor knead the dough of lies around.
-------------------------
Sentence for Winnie the Pooh
Winnie the Pooh goes for honey—
The rest is just a trivial thing!
Piglet follows, plus the fashion—
Man! But, ladies and gentlemen,
Who made us pigs in the first place?
Who dragged us all down so low?
Though it’s too late, far too late!
To fix it now, it’s not a whim.
Global warming—Nature's wrath—
Is killing off this shameful blight.
Year by year, the sun grows stronger—
It’s a SENTENCE, burning bright!
-------------------------
Drunks and Filth – A Muck of Darkness!
Drunks and filth – a muck of darkness!
Look around, it’s clear as day—
This is the world, that’s how it stands:
A herd of fools with empty hands.
And those who don’t drink—are they wise?
Lies are poured, and swine disguise
The truth, like honey, they consume—
This lie, they feast in endless gloom.
Are you not a fool, year by year,
If you believe the beasts appear,
Who waste your soul, and push you low?
A madman’s mind will always know—
The lies, the falsehoods, all deceived—
The false “AIDS” that we received.
Lies have killed the mind’s true fight:
Drunks and filth—shame, and blight.
-------------------------
"Evolution" of Corruption
Two for the price of one—
Most buy in bulk, they’re never done.
But those who didn’t sell their soul,
Who loved their honor, loved control,
Are left outside the common crowd—
A “cocky” one, they’d say out loud.
Dumping prices broke the line—
Beyond that line, is death divine?
No, it’s just a spiritual death.
Does money stink with its own breath?
Sold then forever, bound to be
A slave, a vile soul, the “Lord’s” decree.
Three for the price of one—
The logic’s clear, the deal’s been won.
But in the end— NOTHING left...
But the cross and its quiet theft.
-------------------------
Servants of Satanism, or Purification by Fire
No matter what "merits" they claim,
Forget the pride, the pomp, the fame,
For if the people are not people, but servants,
Then burn it all—the world that’s cursed.
The fire will burn it all away—
From ash, a world more worthy will arise.
Let the inhuman rave, for their madness
Will not last long, it will meet its demise.
Here, the Sun’s dawn will blaze,
Look out the window, you will see.
Though the depths once lay in this place,
Now, it’s the world’s bottom, endlessly.
If it’s the depths, there’s no time to save
The remnants of the rational few:
For consciousness that’s higher, brave,
Will strike those lost to demons' view.
-------------------------
Atheism and Satanism
“Atheism is a thin ice on which one man may pass safely, but a people will fall into the abyss.”
— Francis Bacon, 17th century
The Soviet crowd once took the dive —
In atheism’s dark abyss.
They tossed fake gods to keep alive
A shinier lie — material bliss.
The Darkness swaps its masks and names
To keep its nature veiled from view.
Each “path” it sells is just new chains
To lead the herd away from truth.
The inner Light’s beyond the frame
Of labs and books — it won’t be caught.
And lies, when told in Spirit’s name,
Are devil’s coins, deception bought.
They’ve sold “eternal life” for cheap,
And paved the path with sugar lies —
While demons laugh and secrets keep,
The whip of Satan sweetly flies.
-------------------------
Sweet lies, sharp lash — the Devil grins.
Atheist chains, satanic sins.
-------------------------
Permanent Devilry
“Worse than the order destroyed by revolution is the order created by it.”
— Bauyrzhan Toyshibekov
"Tsarist rule — a prison!" — true.
Then the Red Camp crushed us more.
“Revolution” — what it blew
Were graves for minds it dragged to war.
Lunacharsky's demon came,
Plugging “Bes-” in every phrase —
(Once it meant “without” in name,
Now it glorifies Hell’s ways).
Thrown into the melting pit,
The crowd obeyed, the slogans hissed —
Till every soul was steeped in shit,
And “communism” reeked of this.
Now it's back — the beast's encore:
Rashism dressed as tsars of old.
A wretched clown, a thug, a bore,
With minds in chains, their hearts gone cold.
-------------------------
Rashism grins in Tsarist guise —
Same old demon, new disguise.
-------------------------
Fake Diseases, or Marching to Hell
(“Open the door to ‘hemorrhoids’ — and the BEASTS are building the world again.”)
Let “hemorrhoids” in — and see
The beasts rebuild their grand façade.
But the real disease is we,
And our minds — the path to God?
Not with “reason” dead and gone,
Where no doubt is left to stir,
And belief in Crap is strong —
So the world will drown in Blur.
In short — that’s all. The tale is told.
We're marching into Hell... in bold.
-------------------------
No mind, no doubt — the lies prevail.
The beasts march in. We march to Hell.
-------------------------
All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me