A Greek Rode Through the River
A Greek rode forth across the stream,
But filth replaced the water’s gleam.
What’s the point of journeys grand,
If The Chaos reigns in every land?
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The Truth of Total Slavery
"Truth is born as heresy and dies as prejudice."
— Georg Hegel
Slaves cry: “It’s heresy that whole world in chains!”
Repression blinds them, fierce and strong.
And total slavery, grinning in disdain,
Drives filth through winds that reek of wrong.
It screams of “freedom,” “choice,” and “wealth,”
And “equality” for fools enslaved.
Much like when communists preached “brotherhood’s” health
While chains and lies dug common graves.
If all are born as slaves, for centuries cursed,
Then fools are those who dare confess
That man’s a wretch, by inhumans coerced,
And genocide is power’s finesse.
The first stage? “Heresy!” they decry.
But filth reveals the rotten pit.
No chance remains for even try
To grasp such truth or handle it.
Instead, more madness storms ahead,
As evil churns its blackened tides.
The world won’t make it to “prejudice,”
Its dullard mind in mockery hides.
It turns sharp truths to empty jest,
Content to bear its endless cross,
Each day more senseless than the rest,
Until decay consumes the dross.
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Foolish Sport
Someone’s bound to claim the prize—
Sport, a game for foolish minds.
When the path to Light denies,
Only “strength” the victor finds.
Sport’s a model well-designed:
To keep the slaves from breaking free,
Dulling hearts and numbing minds.
Final of race—decay will be.
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Circles of Hell
Believed the lie—got torn apart,
Believed again—a foolish heart.
Within the cycle, trapped, alone,
One more circle, then you're thrown:
CowID’s marked, the system's vile—
Hell loops endlessly, mile by mile.
Only Death can grant release;
For crawling worms, Hell won’t cease.
Dante, sadly, had it wrong:
One circle spins, relentless, long.
Caught in Evil's twisted snare,
You kill your soul by staying there.
But Death will guide the soul to Light,
If you’re not blind to wrong from right.
Reject the filth, the vile disguise—
Seek truth beyond the worldly lies.
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Transformation by Mud
Filth as school,
Sense destroyed.
Rot’s the rule—
Decay employed.
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An Adult? A Vile Fool!
Adult? A crude and foolish pawn!
Not a people—just a throng.
No prospects, no way clear—
Only savage years draw near!
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Students of Goebbels
Hitler knew, and Goebbels taught,
That people err—no second thought.
The bigger the lie, the easier to bind
Fools in herds with help fragile minds.
Lock them up like beasts in cages,
Feed them lies through endless stages.
Turn them on each other’s kin—
Fascism thrives where fools give in.
Is Goebbels dead? Not quite the case—
His pupils thrive in every space.
Refined the craft, their vile "progress":
Genocide and moral regress.
The world’s a prison, cold and gray,
Few minds are clear—most rot away.
One sane voice, a bullet’s prey—
The masses? Lost, led astray.
Prisoners crowded, “cared for” in chains,
Idiots lulled by crafted gains.
Hitler never screamed, "I'll slay!"
He promised fools success... his way.
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What, Where, When?—
Just Nonsense. How?—Creation
When?—Who cares. And What?—No use.
Where?—It’s pointless. I deduce
I’m drowning deep in senseless mess.
Ask "How?" instead, to fix the stress—
To bring some order to the strife,
For chaos won’t align with life.
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The Story of Humanity, Briefly
The prologue? Fraud. The middle? Lies.
Deceit unfolds beneath the skies.
And at the end, like beasts, we fall—
Destroyed by falsehoods, one and all.
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To Clash With the Wall
With furious force, I strike the wall—
There’s no way out, no choice at all.
A fool I seem to those nearby,
But to the kind—a distant light.
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So-Called Classics
The “classics” drone, a dreary haze,
A tiresome myth of bygone days.
Nothing remains, no self, no spark—
Once Light is known, the rest grows dark.
Transcendent works? They're nowhere near.
What’s praised instead is dull, unclear:
A hymn to lies, to empty norms,
To life's misfortunes and its storms.
This gives so little to the soul,
Which falters, robbed of something whole.
Bombarded still by hollow lore,
She getting tired more and more.
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This World
"I would not want to be the God who created this world,
for the suffering of this world would break my heart."
—Arthur Schopenhauer
Perhaps it was by God's own hand,
But soon the Devil took command.
This wretched world, so harsh, so grim,
Where only pests can truly win.
Nature's foe—the cunning mind—
Barely breathing, cruel, unkind.
And honest souls? A fleeting show—
A murky void is all we know.
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Serenades to Please the Fool
A serenade I'll sing tonight
To please a foolish lady's sight:
In Hell, the wretched find their way—
And think they've reached a bright new day.
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The Ugly Guru
An ugly guru, dull and vain,
Decided wisdom to proclaim:
In tanned-up hides, with pomp and flair,
He peddles "spirit's culture" there.
A soulless plague sweeps through the land—
A hellish world, a doomed command.
To save your soul, take up the fight,
Ignore the lies—hold to the Light!
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Universal Gloom? Just Earthly Pain!
That "cosmic gloom" is worldly woe—
When souls in Hell are brought so low,
One answer rules: despair takes hold,
And Madness makes the blood run cold.
Madness and grief—two poles of night,
The wretched can't outlast this blight.
A Cataclysm will lend its hand,
To sweep away this cursed land.
Evil will sow folly in the soil—
A leper's refuge, steeped in toil.
For all the Earth, as it appears,
Is steeped in madness, gloom, and fears.
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Simple Despair
"Better wisdom in sorrow than joy in delusion."
— Epicurus
Bitter the fate for the minds that are bright,
Living with fools under devils’ dark might.
No room for talent, no call for their fire,
Save for the rare, steadfast giants that inspire.
Yet even their works are twisted and torn,
Ripped from their context, to evil reborn.
Few of the mighty remain undefiled,
Resisting commands of the crooked and vile.
Lies and deception consume every age,
Fear chains the wise in an endless cage.
Degradation spreads under genocide’s veil,
Where ghouls mock the brilliant, frail without fail.
No justice awaits for the monsters who reign,
Their cruelty unchecked, their malice profane.
Thus, what we inherit from their abyss,
Is a world obscene, devoid of bliss.
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Stop!
Wise one, halt—
Just pure fault.
Convince fools? You’d break your hand
Striking iron into sand.
Pointless—progress here is hollow.
Nothing fresh; decay must follow.
Honest hearts will soon be banned,
Criminals by CowID brand.
Reason here lies all but dead.
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The miserable little world
The wretched world submits to evil —
Its gods have perished, none are regal,
And only demons now remain,
Believed as saints — but trust in vain.
They'll pen new bibles, fool and erring,
With lies beneath their verses, glaring,
Demonic schemes in holy guise,
Yet we stay silent, close our eyes.
To shout, “This madness is absurd!”
Seems useless; we've embraced the word
Of lunacy, where lies conspire
With fascist ash and hate-lit fire.
A few still think — they're branded fools,
For reason now obeys no rules.
The dim-wit plague lays truth to waste —
Decay and Shame. What bitter taste...
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A Captain Without a Ship
A dark canoe, bereft of charms,
Crashed on the rocks in sheer disgrace;
When you reject the magic's arms,
You'll find but emptiness in their place.
Not all charms are born of lies —
Some aren't the witch's twisted spells.
In light, like water, let truth rise,
Not through books, but where the heart dwells.
Hear your soul, its voice is clear;
No scholar’s pride will break the bars.
For if you're but a fool austere,
You'll never leave this prison of ours.
Only shattered, freed by light,
Once the shipwreck claims your past,
A captain, shipless, finds his right —
Among the Worthy, peace at last.
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Woe to minds that stay too meek —
Dull and passive, lost, they fade.
Yet the keen are doomed to seek,
For Chaos shuns the wise and brave.
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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