Under CowID
The lice revealed, with CowID shown,
How fragile is the mind, alone,
In this earthly, fleeting plight.
And far ahead, more grief and fright—
We’re nearly lost, almost gone from sight.
-------------------------
"Go with the Flow"...
Go with the flow?
Downward, it leads!
Exceptions in
The stench of lies —
Are rare indeed,
For "the flow" is
But decay's own seed.
You’ll drift through filth,
Among the mad,
The twisted ones,
The fools so bad,
In evil's play,
They’ll lead the way.
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Propaganda, or Below the Bottom
A gang of vile propaganda,
Worse than bandits, war’s own plague—
A vicious crew, the Beast’s agenda,
Their minds no longer in the game.
The nonsense they spread drives them mad,
Their days are short, their time is wrecked—
No depths below, no worse they’ve had,
Man can’t imagine worse, I suspect.
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Savage Beasts
In the frenzy of deceit,
Dull and rotten, all they greet—
A pitiful, wretched crowd,
Led by a master, stern and proud.
He leads them all to "cure," no choice,
A slaughter’s call, a deadly voice.
The media’s sting will guide the way,
To rid the fools, as lies hold sway...
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All that was dear has slipped away,
Now fools take center stage today.
The fools are many, vast the sea —
Better madness, wild and free,
Than witness such a vile disgrace.
Not to lose my mind, but face
The insolence in this mad world,
Where Reason’s flag’s been firmly curled.
A few remain, but they don't count,
The “roof” above is full of doubt.
Roof-moving out, an heirloom grand,
A tool for kids to understand:
To live in this decayed domain —
To lie, betray, and bend in vain,
To whine, indulge the Evil's creed,
And sleep through life, without a need.
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"Real Aryans, huh?"
Down the hill the orcs came sliding,
Squads deployed and took their siding.
Seized the farm with savage drive —
"Great BREAKTHROUGH!" blared the TV live.
Once again it screamed with passion:
"Stir the scum in deadly fashion!
Let them charge the front and fall —
DYING NOW'S THE NOBLE CALL!"
Hired guns with paid ambition —
"Heroes of the pure tradition!"
So the screen begins its preaching:
Propaganda’s dark art — reaching.
But the orcs, with eyes so hollow,
Fail to see the trap they follow:
They're the target — that’s the game.
Meat for coins — that's war’s real name.
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Pseudo-Life
Filthy stream in murky motion
Spews through Rot with wild devotion,
Crashes hard on Rocks of Lies,
Scooping scum as trophy prize.
Fragile truth sinks in a minute —
Scum won’t help; they’re gladly in it.
Rotten stench burns through the air,
But the stream still rushes there —
Heading straight toward the ending,
No use crying, no defending.
Fools drift on, all bright and cheery —
“Life is fine,” they chant, too weary
To care for more than food and gold —
Blinded minds, corrupted, cold.
Brains long poisoned by the stink,
No one stops or dares to think.
Waking them? Beyond all hoping.
All that’s left is silent coping —
Till, at last, the crowd will cry,
Wail and scream… and wonder why.
-------------------------
Egocentrism and Infantilism
With iron grip, self-love took hold,
The Psyche bent, the heart went cold.
A planted thought begins to rise —
Now madness dances in the eyes.
Some foreign shard — the shape of vice —
Slipped in, a mask of goats and lies,
A cursed command, a wicked seed
That feeds the Beast, and fans its greed.
This world’s the Goat’s domain entire.
His tool? The Self, in dark attire.
He drives out Spirit, dulls the flame —
Turns all to cattle. That’s his game.
This fascist fog now wraps the land —
A sign we must not fail to stand.
So crush the Judas deep inside —
The foe of Reason, Spirit's pride.
You’ll kill the slave when that is done —
For Judas keeps the chains as one.
And only grown souls break that fate —
It's infants who endure the hate.
-------------------------
The Simplicity of Herd Control
The coward’s greedy — start with fear,
Then flash some cash to draw him near.
Once he’s drooling at the prize,
You can pump him full of lies.
No resistance, no delay —
Just have the memes lined up to play.
Fake “research,” a graph or two,
If it fails? Just push on through.
Crank the pressure, feed the stress —
Soon the chaos coalesces.
Systems bend, and minds obey
When memes define the game they play.
Fear and greed — the memetic trigger.
Now they’re beasts, not even bigger.
Once you’ve yoked that lump of clay,
Genocide’s just... policy today.
The BEASTS in charge don’t shed a tear.
Their crawling worms obey in fear —
Fools of every shape and breed.
So few left who still bleed... and heed.
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The Blind "Scholar" Blabbermouth
The world-view's shattered into shards —
Each fool locked in his mental yard.
They zoom on crumbs with scholar’s pride,
Then launch a howitzer when they try to generalize.
In monkey hands — the scalpel gleams.
The truth? Not part of their grand schemes.
False science serves another goal:
To strangle thought and cage the soul.
Their "proofs" are tools — for mind control,
Spun carefully to trap us whole.
A web well-woven, smooth and tight,
But where's the spider? Out of sight.
The “scientist” — a blinded pawn,
Drunk on dogma, vision gone.
He cranks out nonsense by the ton —
A blind blabbering babbling don.
-------------------------
The Law of Large Numbers, or The Slave Majority
Slavery wins — it always thrives
Inside the mind where panic drives.
A stupid brain will fold and flail
The moment fear begins to wail.
Even if the threat is fake,
Just a ghost that nightmares make —
Still they choke and fall in line.
Only few will shout: "Not mine!"
But numbers rule — the world obeys
The darkest herd’s demented ways.
Where madness blooms, the mind grows thin —
And mass delusion always wins.
If you march with them — you're lost.
They’ll drag you down, and that’s the cost.
Step aside. Walk your own thread.
Heart and mind must lead instead.
Let your compass be your flame —
And leave that Bedlam, quit the game.
-------------------------
Marriage Amid the Madness
A blue-eyed blonde — a perfect dream?
Just a trick from magazine.
In real life, the vows will fray —
Lies and tantrums rule the day.
Endless nagging, petty fights,
Lonely peace brings clearer nights.
There, your heart and mind survive —
In marriage, wars just... multiply.
Rare exceptions, sure, exist —
But love and friendship? Often missed.
Most are slaves, too dull to feel
Anything that's true or real.
They don’t love — they chase a prize,
“Joy” that’s measured in me-size.
Giving? Ha! Just venom spat.
Without some give, there's none of that.
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The Fatality of Infernalism
Orcs. "Plagues." The slaughter. Dark.
In lies so total, cold, and stark,
No honest mind can ever join —
They fight alone, they fight in vain.
If this is true, the end is near.
This world’s a sell-out, drenched in fear.
To the New Hell — but after cleansing,
All the wise will be expunged in ending.
-------------------------
Deeply Layered Madness Defense
A vicious circle —
The “only friend.”
Or is it madness,
Ringed in the end?
No fresh ideas,
No sense to the schemes.
Around, the Dark
Unravels your dreams.
Break that loop,
Tear the chains.
Stand alone —
With truth that reigns.
That truth — the Soul.
Watch it, slow and deep,
For only it
Escapes the rot we keep.
The world breeds lies,
Hellish in its threads.
Run, run fast —
Before your mind’s dead.
-------------------------
Vegetables
Only the potato’s truly free,
Lie to the "citizens," let it be,
They'll swallow it — this "freedom" call,
For brainless fools believe it all.
The veggie culture thrives in lies,
Focused on tricks and shallow cries.
Pollen spreads — decay unseen,
They kneel in fear, just blind to mean.
-------------------------
Sheepish
Their fate is lies, they can't deny,
With rotten brains and empty sighs.
Genocide’s their yo-yo game,
A hellish whirl, it’s all the same.
-------------------------
Choice? Vyborg or Luga?!
Head beyond — find a friend?
There’s no choice, it’s all pretend,
They led us all through empty trends!
The odds, they calculated well —
That “choice”? Too low, too much to sell!
The only choice? The chains we wear,
Like targets lined up everywhere.
Luga? Who cares — find a girl,
Get drunk, forget the world’s cruel swirl.
And then, don’t forget to drink again —
Forgetting’s just the start of pain...
-------------------------
Junk and "Meat Storms"
A freak show: stick a needle in,
March to the meat storm, fight to win —
With the Führer, side by side,
For the "values" they can't hide.
At the end? The orcish bliss —
Stacks of cash, they couldn't miss.
On their knees they begged before,
Now they crawl, forevermore.
-------------------------
Thoughts Are Few, But Deeply Grown
Thoughts are few, but deeply sown —
Irritation’s seeds have grown.
Surrounded by the Judas crowd,
Or fools who sell their souls too loud.
Honest ones, you'll find online,
But even there, truth's hard to find.
For in the net, as everywhere,
Lies are just the usual fare.
-------------------------
Comics and Clip Culture
An image’s stuck in the mind so tight,
A short text adds to the blinding light.
A fool’s born quick, and he’s all around,
For dumbness is the world’s true ground.
Add a clip — and “progress” shines,
The fools will fill their shallow minds.
From the press, a fool’s unleashed:
A finished idiot — a war at least.
No more need for lies so bold,
Fools can be killed with lies untold.
As CowID showed, it’s not so hard —
Just lie a bit more, and tear apart.
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Spirit
The calm point within the cyclone’s rage
Is not born, and thus it defies
The law of death — a secret stage,
One that fleeting minds can’t realize.
A cool spot in the raging Hell,
It’s yours if you turn on your mind.
Only through this, it will compel
Your soul, leaving the noise behind.
Lying beasts don’t burn with flame,
But howl to spread their fearful shame.
All for that point — to be the one
That rises, leaving dust undone.
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The Stone of Sisyphus
Thoughts grow thin,
The body aches within.
Old age brings sorrow,
When... all you see is horror.
Wisdom's ripped away
In "maturity" — they say.
They roll the Sisyphus stone
Up the hill, all on their own.
But for cash, it's all a joke,
Minds grow dull — they’re bound to choke.
The stone will fall —
The fool’s to blame, after it all.
-------------------------
Double Führer
Double "Speaker"
Twists the truth,
A blow to the head —
You’re in the tomb, uncouth.
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Phantasmagoria of the Grown Fool
A grown-up fool,
Acting "wise" today.
For him, it’s all simple —
Just don’t challenge what they say:
Blindly obey.
"Everything’s okay" —
Repeat this mantra,
And ignore the dismay.
Except for money —
That’s the highest goal.
In this world of nonsense,
It’s the only "soul."
That "water" pours,
And the madness grows.
If cash is present,
Then no one knows.
The world’s set to fade —
The fool won’t know,
Wait for your paycheck,
And "water" in the snow.
-------------------------
The Futility of Poetry
Poetry's useless,
And prose is in vain;
Claims are all pointless,
No truth left to sustain.
The media’s engine
Runs on twisted tracks.
But where is the thought
In this darkness that lacks?
It’s hard to find it,
You’ll wear yourself thin.
A writer's a hostage,
Trapped deep within sin.
They’ll spin the garbage,
To dull and decay.
The abyss has been pierced —
Moral rot rules the day.
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"Tragedies" of the Schizo
The fools' squabbles,
The madman's plight;
Reason goes down,
Like a plague in the night.
Leave the madhouse,
Seek answers within;
With the crowd,
Always "grinning" in sin.
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Evil Genius
A genius can't be kind —
Only darkness nurtures the vile.
History will show, in time,
The super-evil’s cruel style...
The genius is the father of lies,
And it spawns evil’s spawn.
Bribery first, then alibis —
Mass deception leads the pawn.
The fog of illusion blinds the mind,
And lies are skillfully spun.
The evil "science" twists and binds —
It chills the soul, leaves us undone.
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Detachment and the End of the World
Don’t bind yourself, not even
To the stray cats you meet,
For the only bond left is treason,
And that battle’s never sweet.
It’s a war that spans the ages,
But those times are long past.
The End will come, we’ll meet it soon,
All else is nonsense or farce at last.
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The Devouring Machine
A ravenous machine —
This world, so vile and lean.
Fascism's grip, relentless, stays,
Reborn again in hollow phrases' sway.
-------------------------
Aging Children and Adult Games
Playing grown-up isn’t hard—
Just age a bit, and you’ve gone far.
But many grown-ups lie so bold,
A third of them are simply old.
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Cruel Truth
Cruel Truth sat down by my side,
And whispered a tale that chilled me inside.
To wrap it in verse? A tormenting feat—
But turning away would be soul’s defeat.
Filthy old Lies, through the media stream,
Spew rancid nonsense, a reeking dream.
The vermin bow to the stench with pride—
If that’s the line, I’ll stand outside.
Let the poem be silent—still, wars are waged
With words on the page, not bombs enraged.
You write, you breathe—then rise again,
Though only a few may grasp your pen.
Cold Truth will judge and set the line:
Each to the fate they’ve earned in time.
The liars queue up for another disguise,
The honest are tossed where the grave-wind sighs.
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What’s Worse Than Tuberculosis?
There is a plague that strikes much worse
Than coughing blood and death’s old curse—
It’s Moronosis, deadly still,
A corpse alive, with lying will.
It’s not contagious through the air,
Yet poisons minds beyond repair.
And kids — the purest, sharpest minds —
Are first to fall to twisted lines.
The fools arrive with books and lies,
Like poisoned treats in sweet disguise.
Believe them once — your mind decays,
You swing your doors to beasts and plague.
Then you’re a slave of Beastly Brood,
Spreading the madness, crude and rude.
This Moronosis grows and feeds—
It’s not a scare. It’s real. It bleeds.
But if you fear it — do not freeze.
Protect the others. Spread disease?
No — shield the minds while there is time.
Don’t heal the fools. Burn back the slime.
-------------------------
The Science of All Sciences
To gauge the sheep’s reaction rate—
That’s science. Not your standard kind.
It fuels the fascist-minded state,
With streamlined tools to cage the mind.
To boost results and slash the strain,
Just axe the "useless" works you fund—
Then pour the cash like toxic rain
Where mind control is finely spun.
Thus rise the “vectors of desire”
To herd the flock in planned stampede—
Some to the altar, some to fire,
Some—sick for show, to serve the need.
The core of this "great science" reigns
In fear—its lies are strong and cheap.
Why stage an op when well-told chains
Can wage a war you never speak?
Declare that war upon the sheep?
Oh no, that takes a shred of pride.
Much cleaner: cull them while they sleep.
This genocide just bides its time.
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From Rant to Rant
The kings of hype, the TikTok troops,
The pop-star squeaks, the YouTube giants—
Serve lukewarm slop in plastic soups,
But where's the place for true defiance?
No place for talent — none at all.
It’s always lost beneath the stream
Of dreary sludge that crowds the stall,
While trash gets pushed by every scheme.
All effort dies outside the trend,
If it won’t bend to what they sell.
You’re just a squirrel that can’t transcend
The spinning wheel — from rant to hell.
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Surrealist "Climb"
A liar and a fool, tight-bound,
Begin their “climb” with steps unsound.
Alone they’d never scale a thing—
But tied, the liar leads the string.
The fool’s the mule — he hauls the pack,
While lies flood every twisted track.
And where the trench runs deep with grime,
They call that pit the peak they climb.
The fool, in awe, believes he’s blessed.
But truth’s not welcome on this quest.
Only sur-realism thrives—
Where logs roll uphill, dead and blind.
-------------------------
Deliriums and Sarcasms
You miss the old delirium? Why?
The new one's here — go kiss it "hi"!
No room for sarcasm in these lines—
Unless you're dumb, you'll spot the signs.
This isn’t irony — it’s fact:
Sarcasm nods to madness past.
But now, fake plagues attack intact
While lunacy gains strength so fast.
Collective madness rules the screen—
Write what you will, say what you mean.
Your mind gets jerked off, left and right,
While evil turns into your rite.
“Get used to filth!” — the global creed,
Where brain-dead mobs outnumber need.
If you decay among the freaks,
Where mutant swine parade in streaks—
Then do your worst, unleash your flame—
You’ll never beat the Madness Game.
And stupidity’s the primal sin.
Now tell me: sarcasm? Where to begin?!
-------------------------
False Religions
"There’s little love in this world as is—
why waste it on imaginary beings?"
—Friedrich Nietzsche
Let’s paint a “god” — divine decoy,
A lightning rod for grief and shame.
The crowd, in love with holy toys,
Finds comfort worshiping the lame.
Let’s channel all our “higher drives”
Toward that ghost in skies above—
While those around us scrape to survive,
We’re just too “busy” spreading love.
We build our churches, feed the lies,
Dress up fools in holy gowns.
And all our “love” we sacrifice
To filth and cults where blood goes down—
Drink the blood, eat sacred meat,
Rituals drenched in dark pretense.
Distraction’s art is near-complete,
The inhuman writes my common sense.
It had made our minds slavery,
Hides the chains behind the rite.
For raw brute force can’t always be
Enough to prop a tyrant’s might.
So draw your gods and preach your spell—
That’s how the BEAST expands its bluff.
They’ve layered centuries of hell
With sweet, seductive, sacred stuff.
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The Path Beyond
The Beyond is not some pastel dream—
It’s rupture, chasm, sharp extreme.
No jelly soul will make it through—
It bursts with rot that Evil grew.
That mushy fool, so soft, so sweet,
Is perfect clay for Evil’s feat.
The path beyond begins in loss,
And not for donkeys to emboss.
There’s no way in without the strain—
The road is built from searing pain.
The first step: rot laid bare and clear.
The next: move onward. Far from here.
-------------------------
TV Series
TV series: time’s not lost—
It simply reversed at cost.
Joy runs dry, but still you sit,
Watch again… and call it wit.
You grow numb — the soul erodes,
Feeding on those dreamland codes.
Timeless art feels raw and sore,
Like a wound you just ignore.
It’s a childhood reinstalled—
For old fools, grown-up, dumb, enthralled.
They forget they’re just a tool
For the BEAST’s amusement school.
Waiting gifts from such a source,
They forget the Beast, of course.
TV series — monkey cage,
Plague of Evil, rot in stage.
-------------------------
The Irreversible Descent
Like in a nightmare, deeper down—
Not just in fools, nor tyrant clowns.
It’s not just lies that rot the land,
Nor poverty with outstretched hand.
A greater plague begins to rise:
Soullessness behind the eyes.
No cure exists, no hope to mend—
And thought grows useless in the end.
The herd obeys without a fight,
As CowID proved in plainest light.
The further on, the worse it gets—
The sleeping mind absorbs the threats.
-------------------------
Straightening Their Backs, Rising Up...
They straightened their backs —
Struck down by the idea!
And from their knees, the hacks
Rose up—wild propaganda’s fear.
The BEAST’s loud cry will lead the way,
To the Crematory, where they’ll pay.
They’ll roast the fools, the broken breed—
The pitiful herd, consumed in greed...
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Changes in the Pastures
Baa-baa, moo-moo,
In the grass so true.
Hear this, my friend—
The herd’s loose end.
It’s getting rough—
Not enough beef stuff.
The slaughterhouse line
Doubles its grind.
-------------------------
Machine Censorship and Ranking
TikTok’s sprout,
The grass — a flood of lies.
A verse runs out,
Censorship decides.
-------------------------
Double of a Double?!
A matryoshka of madness!
Oh, how deep’s the pit,
Where lies breed with sharpness.
It’s all run dry—
The oars are withered,
In rotting deceit,
Only insanity is delivered.
-------------------------
The Grand Universal Madness
Sarcasm won’t help in this delirium,
The BEAST’s strength leads to its own end—
A fucked-up, fiery, twisted show,
The end is near, as chaos grows.
-------------------------
Cop Shows
Cop shows, though filmed by the score,
Convince only fools — nothing more.
This abyss, so deep, it’s clear—
Only the dumb dare draw near.
The cop, not the sellout of old,
Now brave in movies, bold.
Fascism crushed the land we knew,
And sent it all spiraling through.
-------------------------
No Choice in Total Slavery
"Music of Spheres"
Or Lucifer's gears?
No choice, you see.
"Choice" is just insanity.
To drown in chains,
To live in pain—
To live or rot?
To be or not?
-------------------------
Limitless Stupidity and Greed
Deceiving now’s a simple feat:
Greed and folly—limitless deceit.
The BEASTs lie on without a care,
And the wise? They’re left despair.
-------------------------
The Little Mind
A splinter of threat
Lodges in the mind.
A splinter plus dreams—
Is it thought or shame we find?
-------------------------
The Grasping Mechanism of the Mind as a Replacement for Thought
The grasping instinct, flight from strife,
A reflex to escape from life,
Forgetting you’re just a tool
For others’ greed, their lusts to rule.
To trap you in their filthy pen,
Through fear and lies, they reign again.
They deserve this, these grasping fools—
A law of likeness: dust to dust, no rules.
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All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me