Global Bedlam
Someone entered Bedlam’s gate —
By his birthright. Call it Fate.
Alien to fools who crawl,
Sick of slavery and thrall.
There’s no other road at all
If you do not rise and brawl.
“Wisdom” flat and safe and small
Never dares beyond the wall —
Never strips the rot away,
Calling Hell a “paradise”,
“Beauty” in the grand decay,
Filth disguised in painted lies.
He who seeks a way outside
Is no cretin, hollow-eyed.
Lackeys posing full of pride
Crown themselves as “lords” worldwide.
Slavery and thick disgrace
Spill and overflow the place.
“Order” masks a cracked disgrace —
Not a people — nauseous mass.
Entrance. Exit. Narrow seam.
Between both — a yearning-like scream.
Waiting manna, fragile dream —
Building castles made of sand’s regime.
He refuses — once again
Bedlam sprouts from little stain.
Ashram built for crafted bane,
Evil dressed in subtle chain.
Taste for feelings — burned and gone.
Toska crushed illusion’s spawn.
Hope weighs twenty grams alone —
Soul compressed to brittle stone.
So release the mind from load.
Forward? No — reverse the road.
Exit stands where you first strode —
Named “Entrance” in hidden code.
Find the Origin — the Base —
Bedlam falls without a trace.
There is no Path to chase —
Throw it all from inner space.
Origin reveals its core
When the trash exists no more.
Source is waiting at the door.
“Life” in Bedlam? Traffic’s roar.
---------------------
No road ahead. Turn back within.
Bedlam feeds on borrowed sin.
Drop it all — the fraud, the din.
Origin is where you’ve been.
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World Bedlam
Born — and dumped in Bedlam’s pit.
Call it Fate. You’re thrown in it.
Alien to crawling slime,
Slave-road reeks in every line.
No escape if you comply.
Bow — and you are fit to die.
“Wisdom” mild, sedate, polite
Never dares to start a fight.
Hell is sold as “heaven’s gate”.
Rot is framed as something “great”.
Filth perfumed and sanctified.
Lie on lie — and swallowed pride.
He who seeks a way out — thinks.
Not a cretin. Something clicks.
Lickspit “masters”, smug and loud,
Rule a gutless, choking crowd.
Order? No — a masked collapse.
Chains disguised as social maps.
Not a people — faceless herd,
Drugged by slogan, tamed by word.
Entrance. Exit. Same damn door.
Toska drilling to the core.
Waiting manna from the sky —
Building sandcastles to die.
Refuse once — it shrinks to small.
Feed it — Bedlam eats you whole.
Evil’s ashram, polished fraud,
Holy mask on festering rot.
Toska burned illusions down.
Hope weighs grams — and barely found.
Twenty grams — the Soul compressed.
Light suffocates inside the chest.
Drop the junk inside your head.
Turn around — the path is dead.
Exit’s where you first began.
Loop is broken by one stand.
Find the Origin — not far.
Not a journey. Not a star.
Throw it all. Tear every sham.
Origin — and no Bedlam.
“Life” inside this madhouse roar
Is a traffic jam — nothing more.
---------------------
No future road. No promised land.
Turn within — and take a stand.
Burn the fraud with your own hand.
Origin — or sinking sand.
---------------------
BEDLAM
Born into Bedlam.
No one asked you.
Fate stamped “human.”
Cage dressed as truth.
Bow — and you’re fitted.
Smile — you’re owned.
“Wisdom” permitted.
Edge postponed.
Hell marketed
As shining bliss.
Rot perfumed with
Sacred hiss.
Seek an exit?
You still think.
Most just drown slow
In scripted ink.
Order? Plastic.
Crowd? Sedated.
Chains elastic.
Thoughts pre-dated.
Entrance. Exit.
Same location.
Toska drilling
Through illusion.
Wait for manna?
Build on sand?
That’s how Bedlam
Expands its land.
Refuse once — crack.
Refuse twice — break.
Drop the script.
Awake. Awake.
Soul weighs little.
Crushed by noise.
Twenty grams of
Silent poise.
Clear the garbage
From your head.
Turn around.
The path is dead.
Origin — simple.
No grand plan.
Drop. It. All.
No Bedlam.
Life in madness?
Traffic jam.
---------------------
No road forward.
Turn inside.
Drop the lie — divide.
---------------------
The Basement
Lost — in the basement.
Template torture.
A flash — an ascent,
A leap toward Light’s door.
But you grew tired.
You bent. You gave in.
Through waves of nonsense
You drifted down again.
Fear holds you fast —
A bunker-cell tight.
Busy, well-masked:
Brunette wife. Polite.
Kids as well —
To settle is sweet.
“Truth” is a shell.
Filth made discreet.
Daily-life paint
Covers the floor.
Mind nearly faint —
“World’s fine,” you assure.
Vast is the basement —
Obedient sphere.
Failure its pavement.
Hell’s entrance near.
They’ll finish the Spirit —
That’s the design.
Servants of Evil
In Falsehood align.
Sulfur is rising.
The sinkhole spreads wide.
Faith as disguising,
Pseudo-knowledge as guide.
Thinner the layer
Of those who still seek.
Media sprays answers
Pre-digested and weak.
Questions of slavery,
Light, inner flame —
Drowned in excrement,
Smothered in shame.
Basement. Excretion.
Totalized Lies.
Infernal rotation.
Madness in guise.
CowID. Wars.
The signs were displayed.
Bottom-dwell martyrs
In Falsehood decayed.
Corpses upright,
Cheerful in tone.
Horror of Evil —
Quietly known.
Will flood cleanse all —
A deluge severe?
No. Fire will fall.
Prepare, engineer.
Twentieth century —
Solar flare sign:
Obedience — sin.
Slaves — out of line.
Only through rising
Radiance grows.
Drop your compliance —
Time overflows.
Basement. Yet one
Who breaks toward the Light,
Shouting “NO!” to the rot —
Alone wins the fight.
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Basement comfort.
Decorated chains.
Say “No” — or rot
In furnished brains.
---------------------
BASEMENT
Basement womb.
Concrete mind.
Templates bloom.
Truth confined.
Flash of Light —
Break the seam.
You climbed once.
Killed the dream.
Tired spine.
Bent knee.
Flood of noise
Drowned what could be.
Fear = bunker.
Life arranged.
Brunette wife.
Nothing strange.
Kids. Mortgage.
Routine glow.
“Truth” on screen.
Filth in show.
Daily polish.
Bottom dressed.
Mind embalmed.
“World is blessed.”
Massive cellar.
Obedient zone.
Smiling failure.
Hell made home.
Goal is simple:
Break the Spark.
Spirit hunted
In the dark.
Sulfur leaking.
Sinkhole wide.
Faith as cover.
Lies as guide.
Seekers thinning.
Layer worn.
Media vomiting
Pre-chewed corn.
Light? Slavery?
Big debate?
Buried under
Streaming waste.
Total Basement.
Total Spin.
Infernal system
Runs within.
CowID.
War machine.
Proof was public.
Still unseen.
Walking corpses.
Healthy grin.
Evil striking.
No protest within.
Flood won’t cleanse it.
Fire will.
Solar warning.
Burning will.
Twentieth century —
Flare in sight.
Obedience =
Chosen blight.
Radiance rises
When you refuse.
Tolerance kills.
Pick. Or lose.
Basement cracks
When one voice
Shouts “NO!” —
And makes the choice.
---------------------
Decorated cage.
Managed fear.
Say “NO.”
Light is near.
---------------------
The Basement
In the beginning — a cellar below.
Not of stone only — of patterned control.
Templates like shackles in orderly row
Fasten themselves to the will and the soul.
Once there was breach — a fissure of Light.
Upward it called through the dust-choking air.
Swift was the spark in its instinct for height —
Few chose to follow. Fewer to dare.
You grew exhausted. You entered the pact.
Down through the avalanche — jargon and noise.
Fear built a bunker of comfort compact.
Chains were upholstered as lifestyle and poise.
Wife at the table. Children asleep.
Mortgage and schedule — liturgical calm.
“Truth” on the screen, professionally deep.
Filth turned to fragrance. Poison to balm.
Vast is the Basement — obedient sphere.
Failure cemented and polished with pride.
Hell is not distant. Hell settles here,
Softly installed on the sensible side.
Sulfur is subtle. The sinkhole expands.
Faith as a curtain. “Knowledge” as glue.
Thinner the remnant that questions or stands.
Media answers before you can view.
Questions of slavery. Questions of Flame.
Drowned in the overflow, buried in spin.
Language corrupted. Meaning made tame.
Noise is the ocean. Thought cannot swim.
CowID marked them. Wars drew the line.
Warnings were public, printed in flame.
Yet the compliant declared it “fine.”
Rot was rebranded and given a name.
Corpses upright with efficient careers.
Smiling through headlines sharpened like knives.
Horror normalized across the years.
Death institutionalized into lives.
Will there be flood to wash it away?
No — it is Fire that finishes fraud.
Solar flare burning the masks of the day.
Obedience counted as sin before God.
The twentieth century flashed like a sign.
Radiance rising beyond the control.
Tolerance fed the machine of decline.
Compliance hollowed the core of the soul.
Yet in the Basement a rupture may start
Not with an army, nor banner unfurled —
Only a voice tearing fear from the heart,
Crying “NO” — and unbuilding the world.
The Entrance was Exit. The circle was drawn.
Origin waits where the silence began.
Cast out the refuse illusion was born on —
Light is no journey. It stands in the Man.
And Bedlam collapses not by crusade,
Not by reform, nor by system improved —
But when the inner allegiance is laid
Down — and the Spirit at last is unmoved.
---------------------
Hell is furnished.
Truth is sold.
Say “NO” —
And break the mold.
---------------------
Basement Collapse
The Basement was never mere stone and floor.
It was lattice and code in the folds of the brain.
A patterned enclosure, a mental decor,
Self-repairing through comfort and gain.
It fed on routine. It breathed through fear.
It pulsed in the screens with a clinical glow.
It whispered: “Remain. You are safe here.”
And sealed every fracture below.
But Light was not metaphor, not belief.
Not doctrine, not promise deferred.
It gathered in silence beneath the grief —
A pressure without a word.
Not moral outrage. Not rebel cries.
Not banners or social flame.
But stellar ignition behind the eyes —
A sun without a name.
When density peaks, a structure must yield.
No bunker withstands that core.
The lattice fractures. The code is revealed.
The Basement exists no more.
Sulfur was signal of entropy’s reign.
Faith misapplied was glue.
Pseudo-knowledge anesthetized pain,
Kept consciousness split in two.
CowID, conflict, engineered dread —
All symptoms, not the cause.
The cause was consent inside the head,
Submission to mental laws.
But when Radiance crosses the threshold line
(It needs no crowd, no acclaim),
The system collapses from inner design —
Ash without even flame.
No flood is required. No trumpet call.
The Fire is inward surge.
A solar event in the neural wall.
A silent cosmic purge.
Twentieth century — flare observed.
Warning in spectral light.
Obedience — gravity mis-served.
Slavery — absence of sight.
Origin is not ahead in time.
Nor buried in mystic art.
It waits before narrative, law, or rhyme —
Prior to fractured heart.
Entrance and Exit were always one.
The loop was a mirrored seam.
Drop identification — structure undone.
Wake from the Basement dream.
And what remains when the dust has cleared?
Not chaos. Not empty span.
But field self-luminous, unengineered —
Light prior to “world” and “man.”
---------------------
No revolution.
No outer war.
Ignite within —
No Basement anymore.
---------------------
Basement Singularity
The Basement was pattern before it was wall,
A recursive enclosure of thought.
A loop folding inward, encoding the fall,
Self-binding by what it was taught.
No tyrant was needed. The lattice complied.
It stabilized fear into norm.
Identity fastened and fortified
The grid of a manageable form.
It called this enclosure “reality.”
It called its sedation “choice.”
It drowned deviation in clarity,
Replacing perception with noise.
Events were symptoms, surface debris —
Markers of deeper compression.
CowID, conflicts, decree —
Artifacts born of submission.
Pressure increased at the unseen core.
Not anger. Not social demand.
But density crossing a critical door —
Collapse from the inside began.
When structure exceeds its tolerance field,
Repetition fractures the frame.
The code that insisted on being concealed
Turns unstable, unable to claim.
No flood descends. No trumpet resounds.
No spectacle signals the shift.
The pivot occurs beneath language and grounds
Where reference loses its drift.
Twentieth century: stellar unrest —
A flare in the measurable sky.
Not omen — but model compressed
Of thresholds no system defies.
Obedience functions as inward weight.
Compliance as structural glue.
Release that consent — destabilize fate.
The lattice no longer holds you.
Entrance and exit were phase, not place.
A symmetry misperceived.
Remove identification from the base —
The Basement is unretrieved.
What remains is not void or abyss,
Nor personal triumph retained.
But field without center or narrative axis,
Unlooped. Unbound. Unchained.
No journey occurred.
No distance was crossed.
Only recursive contraction
Finally lost.
---------------------
Critical mass.
Inner release.
Structure collapses.
Field without piece.
---------------------
Singularity Protocol
Basement = recursive pattern.
Pattern = conditioned consent.
Wall = stabilized narrative.
Narrative = managed perception.
Identity = compression node.
Fear = structural adhesive.
Obedience = inward gravity.
Compliance = energy sink.
CowID. War cycles.
Surface artifacts only.
Noise saturation.
Signal inversion.
Threshold crossed.
Critical density reached.
No revolt required.
Internal symmetry breaks.
Code destabilizes.
Loop loses recursion.
Entrance = phase shift.
Exit = reference collapse.
No distance traveled.
No hero emerges.
Identification released.
Structure de-coheres.
Basement undefined.
System without anchor.
Field remains.
Non-local. Non-fragmented.
No center.
No perimeter.
No narrative mass.
No recursive bind.
Singularity not event.
Singularity = cessation of loop.
Silence prior to structure.
Potential without enclosure.
---------------------
Consent withdrawn.
Gravity fails.
Pattern dissolves.
Field remains.
---------------------
Nonsense for Stunted Souls
Like it or not — you’ll find the rot,
And sink inside its boiling pot.
Its “values” cost you next to naught.
Its law? — Multiply the rot.
They breed it fast and breed it wide.
Through Nonsense all the world is tied.
When it grows stale — replace the brand
For stunted souls who barely stand,
For little minds all neatly cracked,
By guilt and duty tightly packed.
Add fear, submission, holy threat —
The menu’s always fully set.
“Consume!” — or heaven’s wrath descends.
Refuse — and paradise just ends.
The manna falls — but rare, selective.
For those whose taste is undiscriminating, receptive.
The all-devouring rise in rank,
Consume prime nonsense, sleek and blank.
The “lords,” the “elite,” refined in tone —
Yet rooted deep in rot alone.
Like it or not, you play the goat,
The smallest pawn in Evil’s coat.
Repentance? Served when you are spent.
Another script of discontent.
Like it or not — turn inside.
No other road. No place to hide.
Clear the nonsense from within —
Perhaps you’ll touch the Real, begin.
Outside? Not Real — but haze and smear.
More precise: infernal fear.
Nonsense veils and fog combine
To block the path to something fine.
Salvation’s road runs through the Clear —
Through lucent sight, through seeing here.
But Light is scarce. Delusion loud.
The herd applauds, the speakers proud.
Shout “NO!” straight into Hell’s own face.
Walk alone. Refuse the pace.
Authority’s already flawed —
Nonsense nested in its word.
---------------------
Rot is multiplied.
Fear is sanctified.
Turn within.
Walk unclassified.
---------------------
Toxic Nonsense for Stunted Souls
Like it or not — you’ll choke on rot,
Sink in its sludge, forgot what’s what.
Values? Poison coins, a worthless lot.
Law? Multiply this steaming blot.
It spreads like plague in every land,
Through Nonsense all the world is manned.
Grows stale? Replace it — fresh demand
For stunted souls, the weak and damned.
Little minds all cracked and split,
Stuffed with duty, guilt, and grit.
Fear and submission on the plate —
Eat up, obey, or face your fate.
Heaven punishes if you resist,
Manna falls rare — you barely exist.
Only the gluttons taste success,
Devour prime rot, no less, no less.
Elite, the lords, the chosen few,
All fed on Evil’s curated brew.
Like it or not — you’re goat, you’re pawn,
Smallest vessel from dusk to dawn.
Repentance? Served in second course.
Scripted misery — reinforced.
Turn inward — no other path,
Clear the rot, escape the wrath.
Outside? Not Real — just muck and smear.
Infernal Horror — more exact, more clear.
Nonsense cloaks and Morok blinds,
Blocking Salvation for compliant minds.
Salvation rides through Light alone.
Scarce and weak — the herd intones.
Shout “NO!!!” to Hell’s own face,
Walk untracked, ignore the pace.
Authority? Already rotted through,
Nonsense nested in its view.
Like it or not — ingest the lie,
Or tear the veil — before you die.
---------------------
Rot devours.
Fear commands.
Shout “NO!”
Walk free, bare hands.
---------------------
Venomous Nonsense
Rot spreads fast.
Brains sold cheap.
Fear binds tight.
Souls kneel deep.
Manna scarce.
Gluttons rise.
Elite feed.
Ignorance flies.
Repent later.
Pain delivered.
Authority rots.
Lie revered.
Inside turn.
Clear the sludge.
Shout “NO!!!”
Break the judge.
Hell laughs loud.
Rot dressed gold.
Light is thin.
Truth controlled.
Eat the lie.
Consume the fraud.
Stunted minds bow.
Evil applauded.
No crowd saves.
No chant heals.
Walk alone.
No one feels.
Nonsense reigns.
Morok blinds.
Salvation hides.
Unloop your mind.
---------------------
Rot multiplies.
Fear rules.
Say “NO.”
Walk free.
---------------------
Quantum Venom
Rot spreads.
Minds kneel.
Fear binds.
Souls reel.
Manna rare.
Gluttons eat.
Elite feed.
Truth cheats.
Repent later.
Pain lands.
Authority rots.
Lie stands.
Turn inward.
Clear sludge.
Shout “NO!!!”
Break chains.
Hell laughs.
Rot gilded.
Light thin.
Truth veiled.
Eat lie.
Consume fraud.
Nonsense reigns.
Morok blinds.
Walk alone.
No one.
Unloop mind.
Break loop.
---------------------
Rot.
Fear.
Say “NO.”
Walk.
---------------------
Consciousness Code
Rot.
Fear.
Manna.
Gluttons.
Elite.
Lie.
Authority.
Pain.
Morok.
Nonsense.
Chains.
Hell.
Light.
Truth.
Salvation.
Loop.
Break.
Inside.
Shout.
No.
Walk.
Alone.
Unloop.
Field.
Collapse.
Structure.
Quantum.
Impulse.
End.
Start.
Potential.
Free.
---------------------
Rot.
Fear.
No.
Free.
---------------------
Quantum Strike
Rot devours all weak minds.
Fear anchors stunted souls deep.
Manna scarce — gluttons prevail.
Elite feed while truth dies.
Authority crumbles, lies expand.
Chains tighten, hell laughs loud.
Light flickers — clarity rare.
Shout “NO!!!” — break the grid.
Walk alone, unloop your mind.
Collapse structures, release inner field.
Potential rises, patterns dissolve.
Free emerges — nothing binds.
---------------------
Rot. Fear. No. Free.
---------------------
The Poetry Trio
Rhythm in that trio — core.
Rhymes attached, but nothing more.
Meaning usually — empty shell,
Pulls aside toward “hero” hell.
On the sled sits a fool,
Poisoned by a Cloud of Drool.
Meaning drags all down the ravine —
Chaos reigns — the scene obscene.
Singularity — not a dunce.
Doesn’t choose “thus” or “once.”
Fortress of harmony, steady and taut,
Knows each turn, each plot.
Brings the trio whole, intact.
Crowd will not rejoice… the herd.
Sweeter nonsense, vulgar word.
No exception saves the stench
Among readers — world of trench.
Though not in a tank, still ram,
Exceptional topics crushed by spam,
To keep the world from rotting home.
Yet subtle is the line of chrome:
And usually not affect
Calls forth effect.
Efficiency of Filth, truth veiled,
Selfish Murk, by Muddle hailed.
If Murk, if Filth, your foe,
Still you’ll plunge the ravine below.
Limits thin — perception, gut, and nerve,
Dare — or all you have will swerve.
Yet die you will as hero bold,
Overcoming Media’s war-cold.
In the fast trio, be yourself,
Flying with it — tanked to the shelf.
---------------------
Trio flies.
Rhythm strikes.
Meaning drags.
Hero fights.
---------------------
Poetry Trio
Rhythm strikes — core intact.
Rhymes chained, meaning attacked.
Empty hero drags the scene,
Sled-bound fool, poisoned by the Mean.
Crowd devours sweet nonsense raw,
Filth and Murk enforce the law.
Singularity doesn’t bend, doesn’t kneel,
Keeps the trio whole, precise, real.
Nonsense spreads, elite or herd,
Every bright thought crushed, unheard.
Not in tanks, but rams still smash,
Exceptional minds swept in trash.
Effect emerges, not from glee,
From Murk and Filth’s efficiency.
Limits thin — guts, sense, and nerve,
Dare — or fall into the swerve.
Die a hero? Fly the fast trio,
Over Media’s war, chaos’ cameo.
Tank through the nonsense, break the mold,
Be yourself — raw, defiant, bold.
---------------------
Chaos flies.
Filth strikes.
Murk spreads.
Hero rises.
---------------------
Poetry Trio
Filth spreads.
Murk blinds.
Chaos rules.
Crowd kneels.
Hero fights.
Meaning drags.
Limits thin.
Guts burn.
Media roars.
Thought crushed.
Trio flies.
Sled breaks.
Singularity stands.
Crowd falls.
Effect strikes.
Rot prevails.
Die bold.
Rise alone.
---------------------
Filth.
Murk.
Chaos.
Hero.
---------------------
Poetry Trio
Filth.
Murk.
Chaos.
Crowd.
Hero.
Limits.
Guts.
Burn.
Media.
Crush.
Trio.
Fly.
Singularity.
Fall.
Effect.
Rot.
Die.
Rise.
---------------------
Filth.
Murk.
Chaos.
Hero.
---------------------
Poetry Trio — Chaos Code
F!lth
M^rk
C#@os
Cr0wd
H3r0
L!mits
G^ts
B#rn
M3d!@
Cr^sh
Tr!0
Fl¥
S!ngul@r!ty
F@ll
Effe¢t
R0t
D!3
R!s3
---------------------
F!lth
M^rk
C#@os
H3r0
---------------------
Poetry Trio — Quantum Pulse
F
M
C
H
!
L
^
G
*
B
T
0
S
@
E
&
D
^
R
!
---------------------
F
M
C
H
---------------------
Poetry Trio — Pulsing Quantum Field
F M
C #
H !
L ^
G *
B #
T 0
S @
E &
D ^
R !
---------------------
F M
C H
---------------------
What To Do?
Think you know — then scream aloud
At all Seekers — “mainstream” crowd.
Feed the kids pure nonsense raw,
Crush the world with filth they saw.
Vile nonsense rules the age,
Century after century’s stage.
Nonsense — “science,” “muse,” the clergy:
Fools processed by machinery.
Schools, colleges — factories of press,
Children crushed beneath the mess.
Rarely, a kid escapes the grind,
Grasping “ideas” — with bottom blind.
Fear builds the second floor,
Turns the clever into bore.
Nonsense shields the world’s decay,
Hidden “progress” paves the way.
Press of beasts, disguised as care,
Media war fills everywhere.
CowID shows the truth in light,
Minds killed by the press outright.
Even Spirit rots in gloom,
Servants of CowID spell doom.
Muzzle, junk — the zombie’s sign,
Only seekers see the line.
Seekers flee the vile machine,
If Light inside is truly seen.
Cast out nonsense — purge it all,
And stand unbroken, after the fall.
---------------------
Nonsense crushes.
Media lies.
Spirit rots.
Seek Light — survive.
---------------------
What To Do?
Think you know — scream.
Seekers drowned in mainstream.
Feed kids pure filth.
Crush the stupid world.
Schools press minds down.
Universities grind children.
Rare kid resists —
Ideas grabbed, bottom blind.
Fear builds the second floor.
Turns clever into goat.
Nonsense shields rot,
Progress hides decay.
Press of beasts reigns.
Media war everywhere.
CowID exposes truth.
Minds killed, Spirit rots.
Muzzle, junk — zombie sign.
Only Seekers see the line.
Seekers flee vile machine.
Light inside — the shield.
Purge the nonsense all.
Stand unbroken after fall.
---------------------
Nonsense.
CowID.
Rot.
Light.
---------------------
What To Do? — Atomic Core
Nonsense.
Press.
CowID.
Rot.
Spirit.
Rotted.
Fear.
Grind.
Schools.
Children.
Muzzle.
Junk.
Seekers.
Light.
Purge.
Stand.
---------------------
Nonsense.
CowID.
Rot.
Light.
---------------------
Bio-Waste and the Horned God
Bio-waste, bio-junk:
Spirit, mind — the verdict sunk.
All else lies, all else absurd.
The bottom waits if you avoid the Word.
Argument — all life, or doom:
Allah claims you, seals the tomb.
The horned god, through fear and lies,
Turns the world to dust before your eyes.
Around — a crowd of fools,
Strongholds of fascist rules.
Hitler smiles upon this god,
Prolonging agony, the world he trod.
They call it power today:
Fall not lower in Hell’s way.
All are pupils, fresh and blind,
Fools believing what they find.
CowID shows the grin,
Of new fascism creeping in.
Believe the beasts — you’re done,
Lies and terror rise as one.
Every day they swell and grow —
Soon together we’ll rot below.
A new cycle then begins:
Degradation — turned to sins.
From such, bridges they will build,
To “happiness” — mind and Spirit killed.
If you don’t want in Hell to rot,
Seek the Light. Found — SHINE, or not!
---------------------
Bio-waste.
Horned God.
Lies grow.
Seek Light.
---------------------
Bio-Waste and the Horned God
Bio-waste.
Mind crushed.
Horned God.
Fear reigns.
Lies grow.
Agony spreads.
CowID grins.
Fools fall.
Cycle rots.
Degrade all.
Bridges built.
Spirit broken.
Seek Light.
Shine now.
---------------------
Bio-waste.
Horned God.
Lies.
Light.
---------------------
Multiply Your Intuition
Multiply your intuition —
At once you’ll stand apart
From dumb slaves all around:
Enemies, though friends at heart.
Through dumb slaves comes the push
To waste both mind and Spirit;
Beastly ways demand the first step —
Slaves turned fools inherit it.
This isn’t paint grown thick:
In CowID days by order,
Muzzles went on in a flash.
Hell indeed — no border.
---------------------
Multiply sense.
Slaves march.
Mind crushed.
Hell looms.
---------------------
Multiply Your Intuition
Multiply sense.
Stand apart.
Dumb slaves.
Enemies near.
Mind crushed.
Spirit wasted.
Fools first.
Beast reigns.
CowID.
Muzzles on.
Hell looms.
No escape.
---------------------
Sense.
Slaves.
CowID.
Hell.
---------------------
Comic Strip
We dwell inside a comic,
Not our own, but stolen frame.
A stupid comic, just a remix
Of a dreadful fairy tale called “Life.”
In this fiction, all’s conditional —
No real push across the page.
Cartoonish dumbness reigns unconditional —
You only wait for the next stage.
The artist draws it for us,
Hungover, spilling extra paint.
A satanist, sorcerer, cursed —
And the client? An IDIOT saint.
A one-dimensional idiot world
Appears upon the canvas wide.
There traitors, scum, secret snitches
In the header reign, all else behind.
That tail now trimmed and shallow —
The comic must contain just filth:
He’ll draw the “slaughter of the sheep,”
Paint execution for all “thinking” wits.
But the painter was too drunk —
And Fire devours the canvas’ edge.
Scum from the header, scared,
Flee back to Hell’s own gates.
But running comes too late — the Flame
Will burn the filthy pasquinade,
Along with the fascist black banner,
And all ash will go to scrap.
---------------------
Comic lies.
Drunk painter.
Fire devours.
Ash to scrap.
---------------------
Comic Strip
Comic stolen.
Dumb frame.
Drunk painter.
Satan paints.
Fools reign.
Sheep slaughtered.
Fire rises.
Scum flees.
Flame devours.
Ash scrapped.
---------------------
Comic.
Fire.
Fools.
Ash.
---------------------
“The Civilized World”
“In all the civilized world” —
A spell cast for all time.
Repeat it endlessly on air —
Such nonsense is sublime.
It kills the mind, it drowns critique,
Obscures all danger with deceit.
Is this the civilized world… fascism’s cycle?
Are you a hamster in the intellect wheel?
And the humane society — all perverts,
“Medical” fascism, total lies?
And the “rational society” — just two casts:
Dulled masses, and bureaucratic flies?
The “savages” of the Amazon are far wiser —
They shun the liar completely.
They understand the lie destroys
Tribal unity. Here — LIES RUN FREE!
And already, that lie kills nations —
Stuffed with trash, provoking war.
Civilization, they say — almost all mad,
Treachery pays a heavy toll.
It’s circus, chaos, leprosarium.
Or World Asylum — more precise.
Only in poisoned books of mind,
A sea of words — but strip the poison: ALMOST NOTHING.
---------------------
Civilized world.
Lies reign.
Mind poisoned.
Nothing left.
---------------------
The Civilized World
Civilized world.
Spell cast.
Lies reign.
Mind poisoned.
Critique drowned.
Cycle repeats.
Hamster wheel.
Savages wiser.
Treachery pays.
War rises.
Circus, chaos.
World Asylum.
Poisoned books.
Nothing left.
---------------------
Lies.
Poison.
World.
Nothing.
---------------------
Biting Your Elbows
In the Midst of Stupid Passions,
Biting elbows is a sport widespread.
But the idiot’s stubborn:
No lesson in falling is read.
Only words of others
Rule his head:
To eat, to scream,
And start all over again —
Well, just “Our Father” said.
Such a rotten type
Makes up three quarters of the crowd.
How to fight Evil here,
When fools are all around?
---------------------
Elbows bite.
Fools reign.
Words rule.
Evil thrives.
---------------------
Biting Elbows
Stupid Passions.
Elbows bite.
Fools reign.
Words rule.
Fall ignored.
Start again.
Rotten type.
Crowd swells.
Evil thrives.
No fight.
---------------------
Fools.
Elbows.
Evil.
Words.
---------------------
Logical Flip
I think ⇒ I exist.
Few think — corpses everywhere.
BEASTS justify:
“All is fine!” — a crude affair.
Because thinking is weak,
Lies reign all around.
The toad presses down.
Multiply Lies by Greed ⇒
And you get a louse,
Half-dead:
“Don’t touch!”…
---------------------
Think ⇒ Exist.
Lies reign.
Greed breeds louse.
Don’t touch.
---------------------
Logical Flip
Think ⇒ Exist.
Few think.
Lies reign.
Toad presses.
Greed multiplies.
Louse born.
Half-dead.
“Don’t touch!”
---------------------
Think.
Lies.
Greed.
Louse.
---------------------
Little Sense, Much Murk
Little sense, much murk,
Rubbish, lies in Total Filth —
That which is called life
Returns as decay, a silent kith.
If you, steadfast, stubborn, strong,
Seek no meaning in the trash
Of false philosophies, false science,
False religions, all the clatter, all the clash,
Driving vanity out the door,
Mind under Spirit — the only law,
Comprehension beyond mere words,
Trash heaps only for the asses’ draw.
---------------------
Little sense.
Much filth.
Mind under Spirit.
Trash for asses.
---------------------
Little Sense
Sense little.
Murk much.
Lies reign.
Filth everywhere.
Mind under Spirit.
Trash for asses.
Steadfast stand.
Vanity gone.
---------------------
Murk.
Lies.
Spirit.
Trash.
---------------------
Filter for Thoughts
A filter for thoughts they shove
In school, in college — won’t pass.
Thoughts foreign to the skin, the self,
Eventually crushed by the mass.
Filters, schemes, and patterns imposed,
Behavior in crowds, tightly bound.
The skill to think fades, deposed,
While tons of lies keep fools spellbound.
Vast self-opinion —
Mad generals of the insane!
A rotten generation
Now — the world has sunk beneath Lies’ reign.
---------------------
Thoughts blocked.
Lies reign.
Fools prevail.
World sinks.
---------------------
Filter for Thoughts
Thoughts blocked.
Lies reign.
Fools bound.
Skill lost.
Mad generals.
Rotten generation.
World sunk.
Lies rule.
---------------------
Lies.
Fools.
World.
Blocked.
---------------------
Bio-Waste
A fiery stallion, once pure-bred,
Now an ass — cry, howl, despair.
Hard to be yourself instead,
When you’re always loaded, stripped bare.
Negative selection strikes more often —
Through nonsense, absurdity, and scorn.
Today’s norm is bio-waste, rotten,
A sentence passed on life since born.
---------------------
Stallion → ass.
Loaded, crushed.
Bio-waste rules.
Life condemned.
---------------------
Bio-Waste
Stallion → ass.
Cry, howl.
Hard self.
Always loaded.
Negative selection.
Nonsense reigns.
Bio-waste.
Life condemned.
---------------------
Ass.
Nonsense.
Bio-waste.
Condemned.
---------------------
Responses to the "Challenges" of Pseudo-Life
DEMONic nonsense —
A rare reply,
For they shove the Rubbish
You need. Without liars,
All loses “sense”:
The idiot hangs,
Empty, above the VOID.
The media’s war is such —
Might as well hang an axe
Over the ABYSS. Today,
One may even walk —
Smash the “challenges”
By the templates of Evil,
Heresy of the ass.
---------------------
DEMON nonsense.
Idiot hangs.
Smash challenges.
Evil templates.
---------------------
Pseudo-Life Challenges
DEMON nonsense.
Idiot hangs.
Void above.
Media war.
Smash challenges.
Templates evil.
Heresy reigns.
Ass rules.
---------------------
Nonsense.
Void.
Evil.
Idiot.
---------------------
Drive Out
Drive out ⇒
You sink:
Lies run in your veins.
Tuzik rips the blanket — tear
The lies:
Deadly cycle, shatter all.
Tremor
Then vanishes ⇒ Reality! —> live!!!
---------------------
Drive ⇒ sink.
Lies bleed.
Tear lies.
Live!
---------------------
Drive Out
Drive ⇒ sink.
Lies bleed.
Tear lies.
Deadly cycle.
Tremor gone.
Reality! Live!!!
---------------------
Sink.
Lies.
Tear.
Live.
---------------------
Combinatorics of Media and "AI"
Variations, guided by context,
Drawn only from surface templates,
Subject to censorship, all too known:
The media — guards of vile obstacles,
Of slavery nailed for centuries in the mind.
Also familiar — the "AI"’s reign.
Only wretched props remain —
Driving thought from the surface of the Earth.
---------------------
Templates rule.
Media guard.
AI controls.
Thought expelled.
---------------------
Media & "AI"
Templates rule.
Media guard.
AI reigns.
Thought expelled.
Wretched props.
Mind nailed.
---------------------
Guard.
"AI".
Thought.
Slavery.
---------------------
The Dumbing of Children
Through the flood of rotten ideas
And false knowledge — such is school:
Dominants: Fear and Murk.
Through this, the world — Shame, Horror.
---------------------
Rotten ideas.
False knowledge.
Fear rules.
World shamed.
---------------------
The Dumbing of Children
Rotten ideas.
False knowledge.
Fear rules.
Murk dominates.
Shame spreads.
Horror reigns.
---------------------
Rotten.
Fear.
Shame.
Horror.
---------------------
Myth?
*"Don’t think this is a grave,
That I will appear, threatening…
I loved too much myself
To laugh when forbidden!
And blood would flush my skin,
And my curls would coil…
I, too, was a passerby!
Passerby, stop!"*
— Marina Tsvetaeva, Passerby, 1913
Human, were you ever here?
Or just a meddlesome myth?
How did you become an idiot and a fiend,
How you betrayed, sold out, and sank?
Exceptions — only for the few! —
Such words do not offend.
They fly away, like birds…
Yet Tsvetaeva lives forever…
A living verdict on communism,
We’ll add Mandelstam there too.
Communism, or some other FASCISM!
It only changes forms, yet here it is ALWAYS!
Genocide grows fierce —
And it’s time to do something.
But here only babblers battle.
Where is the Holy Spiritual Host?!
Only the Sun brings deliverance,
And soon it will burn down Bedlam.
It will be redemption for sins.
Not all will be hidden as beasts.
---------------------
Sun burns Bedlam.
Fascism persists.
Tsvetaeva lives.
Redeem sins.
---------------------
Myth?
Fascism persists.
Genocide grows.
Tsvetaeva lives.
Passerby stop.
Sun delivers.
Burns Bedlam.
Redeem sins.
Not all beasts.
---------------------
Fascism.
Sun.
Bedlam.
Redeem.
---------------------
Cannibalism
The law is simple: in all things
The wretched are to blame.
If you chose lies, poverty,
The scum is there to catch you,
Then you are evil here,
Greater than World Fascism.
But they have more money —
They don’t care about anything… That’s cannibalism.
Even if you don’t eat men directly,
What use is that?
All will vanish, like mammoths,
While Evil triumphs here.
When the losses are small,
Yet come from every side,
Those sluggish fools inflict
Damage armies could not imagine,
Because the enemies are all around.
And for these insane stumps,
It’s never enough… With this Evil
The world is conquered.
The concentration camp is built —
Worldwide.
All because of dead souls
With shattered minds.
But there will be a New Nuremberg,
Or Judgment Day. Evil
Will be punished. If you reject
The Spirit, and the “attic” is gone,
Then you descend to Hellish realms —
And rightly so,
If Satanism is your idol,
Since you became a stupid goat.
---------------------
Evil reigns.
Fools destroy.
Hell awaits.
Justice comes.
---------------------
Cannibalism
Evil reigns.
Scum feeds.
Fools destroy.
Losses spread.
Hell built.
Souls crushed.
Judgment comes.
Goat punished.
---------------------
Evil.
Hell.
Scum.
Judgment.
---------------------
Masks and Causes
"I have penetrated the secret of masks —
I am certain my analysis is precise:
That masks of indifference on others —
Are shields from spit and slaps."
— Vladimir Vysotsky, Masks, 1971
Ordinary masks are not that scary,
Far scarier are the lies and visages
Of vile politicians, for the ruin of nations
Is ALWAYS their aim. And there is no reason
To trust them — all the vile scum
Sold out long ago, to Lucifer.
And the Prince of Evil rules the Global Asylum.
Fascism has erased all measure of mockery.
Rituals are performed by wretched scum
On the blood of innocent infants.
Satanism binds the bastards together.
There are no worse corrupters left.
Believe nothing, for only lies
Will gush from their filthy mouths.
Build communities, multiply resistance in yourself —
Those scum will bring us many misfortunes.
But we will defeat all the shameful filth —
Fascism will not pass, be certain.
So reach out to the rational,
This path is true.
---------------------
Vile scum.
Fascism falls.
Truth stands.
Resist together.
---------------------
Masks and Causes
Scum reigns.
Lies spread.
Fascism mocks.
Evil rules.
Infants bleed.
Satan binds.
Resist.
Truth stands.
---------------------
Scum.
Evil.
Truth.
Resist.
---------------------
Trash and the Crook
Trash, the common crook today —
The smallest of all problems.
Nausea grips, blood chills in your veins
From the new fascism. You’re mute.
You pretend you serve…
Now you serve fascism!
Resistance to Evil you attempt
With baton in hand, like a beast.
You’ve become a corrupt gendarme —
Crushing the wretched people.
Monsters lead, and you’re all just
Obsequious scum.
Be honest, build communities here —
Strong people are needed there:
In these bands, the squads
Will drive off every worthless wretch.
But fascism — the scum supreme —
Now worse than all past Nazism.
Your end will be ignoble
If you serve it, for fascism WILL respond.
It will answer for all —
Desecration of honor,
Poisoned stings, all wars and plagues.
The earth will quake from furious vengeance.
Even now, the thief or crook
Seems white and fluffy.
Communities are just plans, of course,
But someone must begin.
Unite — and tyrants will tremble.
Let’s save all the people.
---------------------
Trash and the Crook
Trash rules.
Crooks thrive.
Blood chills.
Fascism rises.
Serve evil.
Crush people.
Monsters lead.
Scum obey.
Build bands.
Strong resist.
Fascism falls.
Tyrants quake.
Vengeance comes.
Earth trembles.
Save all.
Unite now.
---------------------
Scum.
Fascism.
Resist.
Unite.
---------------------
Pseudo-Spirituality
“Come on, hit your neighbor with all your might!
Feel it? That’s enlightenment.
Got it? I can see it in your eyes.”
— Mike Naumenko, Hare Krishna, 1982
The freak seeks “spiritual” teachings,
Who only thought as a child, then devoured.
Couldn’t break into the “lords’” gang,
Yet kept his wolfish snarl.
Pride remains, super-ego intact —
What spirituality, damn it, is that?
When savage fascism reigns,
When the world’s a total disgrace?
Spirituality will hit you like a punch in the face.
Every strike feels weak to you.
Death itself — the ultimate precious gift —
Even that is wasted on babbling frogs.
It’s “death in life.” The peak, not the bottom —
Forget the zombie crowds who are otherwise dead.
Clear your consciousness — all that’s left is lies, fear, and psychosis.
So throw it ALL out of your head!
Exceptions exist, though rare.
If you’re one — be ready to receive!
Work hard, night and day —
And the stamp of Shame will fall from you.
And though all the “VIPs” and “lords”
Are proud of themselves,
We’ll hit your faces,
Mindful only of the strength of the blow —
So prepare to receive the gift!!!
---------------------
Pseudo-Spirituality
Freak seeks.
Child thoughts.
Wolf snarl.
Pride.
Ego.
World disgrace.
Hit.
Strike weak.
Death wasted.
Zombies march.
Lies, fear, psychosis.
Clear mind.
Throw all.
Exceptions rare.
Receive!
Work night.
Work day.
Shame falls.
VIPs proud.
We strike.
Strength counts.
Prepare gift.
Feel blow.
Enlightenment.
---------------------
Hit.
Clear.
Throw.
Receive.
---------------------
Miracle
Having passed through Hell within yourself,
And answered with meaning, with verse,
It’s a miracle you live, for Hell would’ve burned you
Had you been weak, a spirit cursed.
Learn boldly through poetry —
There Spirituality always shines.
Forget the rest — that is no life,
Where fascists drive the herds of fools in lines,
Cheerfully to slaughter,
Singing, “The shepherd” — that scum.
Stand stronger in your being —
You are a Spiritual Essence, whole and plum,
Linked with the “higher spirit” — seek it.
Purging your mind of filth and grime.
Delay — and do not ask for mercy:
Nature itself strikes against the herd in time.
A harsh stage now approaches —
The outcome of genocide will be drawn.
If you are uncertain or weak,
Your choice is ditch or grave at dawn.
In Spirit, life is real,
Not this wretched, shameful scene.
So rise upwards, fight fascism,
The rest is nothing but vexing spleen.
Without struggle, the Soul will weaken:
You are a cross — between two worlds you stand.
Fortify your Spirit, hasten to Knowledge,
Soon Hell will crumble into simple sand.
---------------------
Miracle Strike
Survived Hell — stood tall, alive!
Fascist herds to slaughter drive —
Stand, Spirit! Fight, ascend!
Or fall — their flames won’t end!