SOS, or The Theater Starts with a Cloakroom, Hell—With Lies
A play begins where coats are hung,
But Hell is born from whispered lies.
And if you scan the news with eyes,
You'll see—deceit just multiplies.
The goal? To spread a Satan’s creed,
Corrupt the souls and twist the mind.
And oh, how well they sow the seed—
Now fascist rot is far and wide.
A world wrapped tight in fake delusion,
Lies upon lies—a grim decree.
Dishonor grows in dark profusion,
Defying nature’s purity.
Decay will spread, no way to halt it,
The point of no return is near.
A few more years—the end is calling...
"Now Saving Cattle—on the air!"
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Read, Reader—See the Lie, Viewer
Read on, dear reader—watch, observer,
As heaps of filthy lies expand.
Deceitful words, a sly corrupter,
Plant mirages in your hand.
It’s staged with skill, a mass production,
To rot the soul—that is the aim.
The devil thrives on mind destruction,
A herd of husks—his perfect game.
He builds a Pen—so vast, enclosing
A third of Earth within its wall.
And as the world in lies keeps dosing,
Fake plagues arise to doom us all.
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"Wise" and Other Rabble
Rabble’s mark—you’ll often find it
Stamped on "clever" heads as well.
Not just birth, but those who’d blind it,
Selling truth their souls would sell.
If you cheer while lies are spreading,
Aid the rot and play along,
Know—you join the mindless herding,
Spewing nonsense, loud and strong.
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Exists Only What the Screen Declares
What says the screen—that must be real,
No other world outside.
Dark is now the light they feel,
Truth is flipped and cast aside.
CowID, fear, the fools obey,
Another war in sight.
They "care"—or so they say,
But care has drowned us tight.
The world sank deep in blind submission,
Hell knocks beneath the floor.
We've almost breached the last partition—
Three out of four—mad to the core.
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Should I Multiply "Joy"?
Should I seek to multiply joy?
Well, frankly, I don’t care.
Awareness, that’s my only ploy,
Though bitterness fills the air.
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Pseudo-life Hanging by a Thread
Since childhood, hanging by a thread,
You don’t fall—you just drift away.
Seems you’ve found a way instead
To make that thread your home, they say.
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Global Madness
Springtime’s here, the madness grows—
Yes, that’s right—CowID’s the key!
We control the wretched flows,
Lies have almost set us free.
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Heat and the Wires Melt
The heat—and wires start to fry,
In Soviet homes, a desperate try.
If it's not vodka in your hand,
You’ll play the box, my friend—just stand.
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Curfew for Fools
Curfew falls for fools outside,
The streets are empty, cold, and wide.
The wise stay home, their minds intact,
For they know—the world is but a fact.
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Hermit Crab
My idol is the hermit crab,
A lazy soul, I don’t need lab.
To hell with life, I’m free, no care,
All my poems, just for me to share.
In everything, the pests will find,
A profit-seeking, greedy mind.
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Progress or Press?
The Wheel of Samsara CRUSHES
Fools with progress—empty lies.
The soul’s rebirth, it just pushes—
Hell’s PRESS will bring their demise!
Look around—are they still human,
Or icons of Satan’s reign?
Soft jelly fills their skulls, and
Their feelings burn with endless pain.
Driven by emotions’ fury,
Creatures march towards their doom—
Wars, fake plagues—their lies are blurry,
Peddling anything to bloom.
A few exceptions—statistical mistake,
But darkness drags each generation’s wake.
To deny the truth is sinful, so,
Seeing death—that’s the mortal woe...
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The Chancellor’s Deceit
The chancellor's schemes have led the way,
And in that filth, the people stray.
Believe the creatures, lose your soul—
No talent, no worth, no goal.
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News of Hell
The news is just a load of lies,
Propaganda fills the skies.
Not a day without the waste,
Insanity’s their latest taste.
They watch the fools with broken minds,
The result: nothing—just a grind.
Zero’s stretched to nothing more,
And Black God laughs forevermore.
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Horses at the Crossing
Horses die at the crossing's edge,
Left bank, right—both lead to dread.
From the mud to worse we ride,
Wait a bit—there’s no respite.
Rest? Unlikely—they’ll decide,
The beasts will beat you down with pride.
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"Upbringing" and the Future Path
A toddler bears a heavy load—
Rules of bondage, set in stone.
Then he walks life's narrow road:
Coward, traitor… or just prone
To be foolish. Odds are high—
That’s his fate, unless one day
He resists and dares to try
Walking his own, freer way.
If he learns to think, not trust
Lies disguised as "wisdom" bright,
He will cast off Hell’s own rust,
Spread his wings and take to flight.
If in dreams and not awake,
Still, the day may come at last—
If he dares the veil to break,
Hell will fade into the past.
To the Spirit’s heights ascend,
But beware—one truth is raw:
Those who never dream or fend
Serve as chains for Evil’s law.
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Murder of Mind and Talent by Overloading Memory with Nonsense
School exam – a child’s trial,
Workaholics, rise once more!
How much longer will denial
Crush young minds through mem’ry’s door?
How much longer will they force us,
Through their programs, through their rules?
This concern is most enormous
For the foes of kids and schools.
Schemes are crafted by the schemers –
Dumbing down’s their hidden aim.
Parents fail to see the dreamers
Taken hostage in this game...
What to learn? Not what—but thinking!
Through the spark of keen finesse!
Dullards rise, their reason sinking—
Schooling’s weight brings mind’s distress.
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Vile Traitors
The cash is gone—so fast it flew,
CowID declared in every nation.
But soon it chokes them, through and through,
A thorn unseen—yet no salvation.
No time to pay for what they’ve done—
These Judases will rot and perish.
The filth they spread will come undone,
The Earth won’t keep what none should cherish.
Yet few are pure—so loss is small,
Corruption weakens its foundation.
A better people soon will call
For kindness, strength, and restoration.
And what of those who stand alone?
We’ll see—the time itself will show it.
But liars bred by demons’ throne
Still flood the world, and devils stoke it.
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A Circus on a Wire
"Choosing presidents"—what a show!
A circus played on tightropes high.
The dumbed-down crowd must never know—
Deception rules, and truth’s a lie.
Propaganda spins the wheel,
Lifts a fool like Bush up tall.
Soulless jesters love to deal
Kingship to the lowest thrall.
Puppets bow to wicked lords—
Thus it’s always been before.
Fools are trapped in false accords,
Jesters rule forevermore.
A circus real—not just a play,
Theater's but a hollow dream.
If the world’s in Hell’s decay,
Then lies are opium supreme.
js/341
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The World—A Dead Man’s Cart
The cart of death rolls on,
Its journey nearly gone.
No mercy, no revision—
The end is no decision.
So do not heed the mind,
But leave regrets behind.
Let spirit guide your motion—
A path, not mere devotion.
Just seek—don’t fear the night,
For seeking is the light.
The goal is not essential,
But seeking’s quintessential...
The mind may lead astray,
And cast you in delay.
The soul’s pure transformation
Is seen through revelation...
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Wild Game
Fences small yet close together—
People fail to break on through.
Many lost their best endeavors,
Struck by lies, disguised as true.
Falsehoods flourish, masks appealing,
Sugar-coated, painted bright.
Still in caves—our darkened ceilings,
Kin is "kin" and that feels right.
Nations, kennels filled with barking,
Set to clash in frenzied lies.
Feudal order, crude and starking,
Seems more human, seems more wise.
Times grow bitter, times grow colder,
Cruel, deceitful—on and on.
And the verdict, growing bolder:
We have reached the very BOTTOM.
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Don't Be an Ass...
"Woe" to minds that dare to stray—
Hell and ruin come, they say.
Meek and "righteous" fools obey,
Chained by lies they can't betray.
If despair should cloud your sight,
Sin it’s not to seek delight.
Raise some hell, cause some alarm—
Live in Bedlam, safe from harm.
Fools are countless—worse than blades,
Duller minds bring darker shades.
Executioners may kill,
Idiots do greater ill.
Raised among the dull and tame,
Trapped within their sheepish game—
Chains of meekness weigh you down,
Break or sink—it's all they allow.
No good reason, no fair trial,
They will crush you in denial.
So stay alone, stay sharp, stay whole—
Or wear the ears and play the role.
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A Tiny Orchestra of Hope
The band collapsed. Its minstrel pawned
His lute to chase the sirens’ tune.
Their maestro, ragged, sick, withdrawn,
Replaced by brutes who sneer and swoon.
A grand new orchestra arose,
Conducted by a Goat of Blight.
It plays for Evil, loud and close,
In concert halls where fools delight.
Yet those who think retreat within
To seek the Sound that once was pure,
Where harmony is not a sin,
Beyond the devils’ overture.
But solitude's a heavy weight—
No servants trailing in the dust.
If rescue comes, it’s left to fate...
Yet even God has drowned in rust.
So hope is lost, and strength is spent,
No will to stomach one more scene.
Deceit and madness set the trend,
And fools are crowned as kings supreme.
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The Stench of Dull Surroundings
The fools preach lessons, dull and hollow,
Their minds as flat as their clichés.
Their sacred texts? Not worth a swallow—
Just shoot the junk and numb the haze.
"Go vote!" they cry, "defend your rights!"
As if the cage could set you free.
The god they fear keeps fiends in sight—
A horned one grins. They bow their knees.
Their words disgust, their faces tire,
Like rotten swine in filth they play.
Yet pigs seem noble—rising higher
Than those who still resemble clay.
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The Poison of False Faiths
Don't you look—just chant the pages,
Bow and strengthen chains within.
"God's command!"—the vile contagion
Spawns its offspring: fear and sin.
Mind grows dull, and Spirit falters,
Lost in heresy's decay.
All their "truths" were pulled from altars
Built in Hell to blind and sway.
From your birth until your ending,
Trapped within this stifling haze.
Trust your soul—its voice unbending,
Not false hopes in distant days.
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Swallowing the Stench of Lies
The scum leaves marks, a bitter trace,
Having swallowed lies and waste,
Brewing chaos in its wake—
Toxic fumes that scorch and break.
Yet in ignorance, he’s blessed…
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Moscow, Unmoved by Tears
Moscow, with no tears to show,
Opened wide the doors below
To fascism's wretched roar—
Blended with stupidity’s core.
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"Wisdom"
Blockhead figured lies and spite
Can help one rise in life’s cruel fight.
With honor, mind, and pride—he'll see
A life of endless poverty.
Betrayal, too, will pave the way—
A world where flaws win every day.
Evil's power will show them all—
True wisdom’s just a clever call.
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Omnivore
The people’ll swallow, eat it all,
Always begging for some more.
Those extra bites, a tightening thrall,
Yet herds keep chewing, as before.
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Came, Saw, and... Bought
I felt good, you see—
Watched ads on TV.
What’s this? You gape at me?
Don’t you have your own spree?
Look, go on, buy it now—
You’re nearly Napoleon!
First, stack up the cash—
That’s the simple law we’re on.
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The World's Rear End
Where’s the ass-end of the world?
Now that we’ve hit rock-bottom, hurled,
It’s everywhere you look, it seems—
Only a few escape the screams.
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Behind Closed Doors
Behind closed doors, we won't remain
As humans long—then comes the pain.
They'll sweep us up, one by one,
And end the world we've come undone.
A Digital Camp is rising high,
If your mind’s still sharp, don't let it die.
Seek paths to save what can be saved—
Unite with those who haven’t caved.
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The Soulful Wounds of the Sheep
Pouring salt into the wound,
Claiming it’s iodine, too—
Old as time, yet sheep are doomed,
Believing lies as they push through.
From the pen, once shaved and shorn,
Straight to slaughter, they’re led on.
“Kindness” now is bile reborn—
The BEASTS “heal” for a reason gone.
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Variable Cloudiness
Cloudy, yet NOT changing still,
Drifting on with time’s own flow—
Endless drift, no hope to fill—
The sun’s rays are not for show.
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Born to Crawl in Lies
A people born to crawl in lies
Can never grasp the truth’s full sight.
No time to change, for "foreign spies
Are grasping at the country's might."
The same old tale, again, again,
They'll spin their lies for all to hear.
Oppression's root is clear, my friend—
It’s always built on lies and fear.
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The Great Game
The stakes are high, the game is vast,
It’s time to leave, but greed holds fast.
It strangles tight, it blinds the mind,
The end is near, a bitter kind.
You love the thrill, the risky play,
But don’t be bold—beware the sway.
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The Primary Truth
“Knowledge” often leads astray,
A path that ends in dark dismay.
Humble your mind, let instincts guide,
Embrace this truth, don’t run and hide.
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The Lies of the Beast
The beast marks Earth with lies it spouts,
Like dogs who mark their every route.
It’s hard to see through twisted schemes,
When people crawl like worms, it seems,
Within the womb of Nature’s care,
To lies and fear, they all comply.
In short: the lies, the fools, the scare,
Are ruled by filth that’s led to die.
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Little by Little
Little by little, we ascend,
Our minds awaken, but it’s spent.
It doesn’t save us, though, in fact—
For fear’s like bombs, and lies like gas.
Lies and fear have gripped us tight,
No ways to save us from this plight.
That’s why so many fall and sink
Into the dull, obscene, and stink.
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The Pyramid of Social Foolery, or "The Vertical of Power"
The "suits" are parts of the pyramid,
But the "vertical" is upside down:
At the top, the scum are hid,
And the king—a lying clown.
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Ace Beats the King
The ace beats king—this hand’s a test,
The cards lay out the truth’s unrest.
Above, the shadows pull the strings;
To them, the king’s just one of things.
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"The Cup of Life" Shattered
The cup of life has cracked and split—
The filth has conquered all of it.
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Lack of Courage
We lack the courage, that’s the truth,
So fascism’s orders come uncouth.
The fools, they suit up in a rush,
With helmets, masks, and bags to crush,
Together, quickly leave their lairs,
Marching with blind and soulless stares.
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Propaganda and Other Matters
Our Masha stirs the bitter brew,
While one more fool serves bitter stew,
Turning minds to filth and muck,
And law is served with chains and luck.
Masha’s break may come too soon—
In a madhouse or a cell,
Should the beasts begin to swoon,
She’ll follow them, as all things quell.
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The Free Ride
Free ride! Propaganda’s here,
And junk’s new—let’s all cheer!
The bastard’s plans are cruel, no doubt,
A "hippo’s plague" to wipe us out.
It’s easy to fool the mindless herd,
To convince them with a word.
And we’ll die for nothing, cold and stark—
For a new dose of their dark spark.
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Where’s the Statistic?!
Robin Bobbin Barabek
Ate forty souls, what the heck…
How many has the junk in CowID?
Unknown—darkness, shame, and dread.
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Allies with North Korea
They’re friends with North Korea, true—
“Smart to the smart, and I to you.”
Rashism’s fate will surely bend
With Kim, and guns that never end.
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Football Fantasy
“A goal in the locker room”—then fall,
Lie down and think of times gone by,
A moment missed, though shameful, all,
To trip like that—it’s hard to try.
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Noodles for the Ears
A proverb’s not a tale,
You needn’t always lie.
But excuses prevail—
“It’s hard,” they’ll often cry.
It’ll be too dry,
Of little interest, yes.
The ear’s become a lie,
Pressed with noodles, no less.
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The Non-Paradise Grove
No need to guess with coffee grounds,
Or Tarot cards, or mystic sights,
For we’re surrounded by the bounds
Of groves—yet Hell is where it bites.
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The Hellish Groves
The groves grow thicker every year—
The human soul disappears here.
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All poems are located at address https://vykhovanets.yzz.me