Inverse Proportion
Filth we spread and breed anew,
Fear and darkness growing, too.
Thus, the Mind will rot away—
See the world in filth today.
CowID showed it, war revealed:
Few still stand with thoughts unsealed.
Not just puppets, not just blind—
Only those who use their mind.
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To die the perfect way—
The hardest task, they say.
No hope for light to stay—
The darkness won’t decay.
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Running Against Stress
Wind is biting, steps are tight,
Mind is drowning in its fight—
Worse than frost or raging air.
Run, my friend, and heal with care.
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Rule of the Pseudo-States
The aged fiends, were they in charge?
Or was it puppets, hands at large?
All the troubles, all the pain—
Planned by "gray" consultants' chain.
The elders sit, but not alone,
They're steered like pawns, not on their own.
Advisors—scum of highest class,
They fit in any ruling mass.
From monsters runs a hidden thread,
Yet fools can't see where they are led.
The blinded herd will march in line,
Unknowing slaves to the design.
A few could see, yet failed to break
The feeble thread for reason’s sake.
For in the world of hollow minds,
True wisdom barely stays alive.
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Rule of the "Nation"
The mob’s out of touch with the mind,
So lies flow thick, with fear entwined.
Feast on dread and serve the night,
Bow to darkness, hide from light.
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Outdated Notion of Selling the Soul
No need to sell the soul to dark,
Under lies' control, we sink and spark.
Demons rot where they must stay—
By silence bound, we serve their sway.
Through faith or ideas, most believe,
In Satan's filth, they’re forced to grieve.
Triumph of beasts, it spreads around,
While truth and light are rarely found.
Only in struggle with the foe
Can the soul be saved from woe.
For fear and lies will break the thread,
And bind the slave, so hope is dead.
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Believe in Nothing!
Slavery hasn’t gone away—
It spreads through night, it rules the day.
Impairment hides the deepest fall,
The beasts deceive and blind us all.
Soon in False Veil, the mind will break,
The last spark of reason they’ll take.
Madness reigns, as CowID showed,
More lies will spread down every road.
The box of doom will scream again,
And fools will trust the lies in vain.
Hell is here, don’t be deceived,
The devil’s grip is tight and cleaved!
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Don't Create Problems for the Flock
Leave the herd to fatten fast,
No need to stir them—let them last.
Make up new "illnesses" to spread,
As they sink deeper, misled.
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Graphomania with many readings,
great reviews, and likes
A "prose" of daily life—plain, curt, and bare—
Chopped in lines like verses—rhythm? Nowhere.
Lacking rhyme or passion, dull as faded ink.
Yet the likes keep coming—trolling, don’t you think?
Who are all these readers? Fellow hacks, it seems.
Praising one another, lost in empty dreams.
Fools embrace the madness—nonsense, rotten, cheap.
True art lies forgotten, buried fast and deep.
What about the Poets?
Nowhere to be found.
Drowned in waves of drivel,
Lost without a sound...
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Burattino roams once more,
Chasing fields of golden store.
Fools won’t learn—they always fall,
Traps and tricks await them all.
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"AIDS" won’t sleep—it spreads like fire,
Gullibility is dire.
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Feint, then strike—the goal is hit,
Keeps dull Emelyas glued to it.
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Chasing chimeras,
March on, young bearers!
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Cain and Abel,
Evil and jest—
Lies wrapped in labels,
Madness at best.
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A pastor preaching...
"Thou shalt not kill?"
Die like a hero,
Shoot—he’s the chill.
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Roses, dreams—but threats come creeping,
I resist, yet far too many.
In the end, there’s tears and weeping—
Ostrich-madness, fear uncanny.
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Genocide
The public gasps in disbelief—
So many lost, so much grief.
Yet bled dry, the land decays—
Just a whim in madness’ gaze.
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State Secret
No secrets here—just crimes to trace,
Yet trails are gone, no court, no case.
For madness, slaughter—none will pay,
Yet fools trust leaders day by day.
CowID unmasked their rotten core—
The vilest spawn, the filth, the gore.
Still, blindness hides what all should see—
The willful fraud in tyranny.
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Winnie’s Quest
Winnie sets off, chasing honey,
Craves it more than fear or pain.
Sweet addiction drives him running,
Lost in paths that twist in vain.
Generations walk the same way,
Signs mislead them—tricks and lies.
Every road just ends in mayhem,
Make your own—don’t trust disguise.
Fake or real, just keep it ready,
Sip your tea, enjoy the ride.
In your den, alone but steady,
No need for some bunny guide.
Few will take the road less taken,
Mind and soul must light the track.
Fools stay lost, confused, mistaken—
Wisdom never turns one back.
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A bitter poet stands alone,
Among his struggles, all unknown.
Who bears pernicious flaw? His mind?
Or crowd of delirious slaves behind?
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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