"The Free World"
In mythic "free world" fools reside,
Without any doubts they all collide.
And in this world, they forge the hell,
Where rulers, crooks, are known too well.
The Creature buy their souls away—
To make of these the bleak array.
Fake ills it spread cloud foolish mind,
By steps too small to can them find.
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Let all deceit and all the lies,
Betrayal, hatred, genocide,
Be met with scorn—don’t compromise!
To serve the world is to abide
By rules of madness. Chase success?
Your soul will twist, your mind will break.
Stay lost, unseen—reject the mess,
Be grim, alone—for your own sake.
And in the silence, truths will rise
If you are brave and sharp of mind.
But keep them close—don’t share the prize,
For crowds are deaf, and fate is blind.
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Pseudo-Science
The "great scholar" plays the game,
Knowing theories are to blame,
Yet he serves the highest bid—
Same old story, nothing's hid.
Like a priest, the "scientist" now,
Spins the strike—don’t ask him how—
Hits the mind but kills the Soul,
Guided by Hell’s dark control.
Satan funds the grand deception,
Nothing new—just changed direction:
Priests are ruined, so instead,
Fools now chase new tales misread.
Mindless sheep obey with glee,
Doomed by blind credulity.
Weak submission, hollow hearts—
That's where all corruption starts.
Spirit fuels all life’s progression,
Even slime shows some expression.
Worse than slugs are soulless masses—
Hell spews forth its sickest gases.
CowID proved the truth is grim—
Void of Soul, the herd is dim.
Shame’s the force that keeps them going,
Lies and fear—unceasing flowing.
Salt of falsehood spreads around,
Truth is banished, pushed aground.
Honest voices drown in madness,
Fools protect their nests with gladness.
Selfish greed is all they chase.
So they fall—no need to brace.
Once again deceived en masse,
Fake diseases—poisoned gas.
Wars ignite with ease anew,
Idiots fall for twisted views,
Eating lies, corrupt and vile,
Sinking deeper all the while.
Earth's become a Hall of Shame,
Ruled by those who play the game.
Fraudster-science, trained to lie,
Forges "proof"—don’t ask them why.
Or no "proof"—just claims alone,
Now it costs too much to hone
Any facts, when fools embrace
Rotten lies without a trace.
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One’s Own Shirt Closer Still
The shirt now clings still tighter near,
As Evil spreads its reign of fear,
Sows strife and terror, bold and sly,
Crushing Truth and Freedom dry.
The mindless herd of “sick” obeys,
Their “sacred shot” now wins the race
Against pure strength and hardy will—
Yet sheep are never hard to kill.
A shame for Spirit, Mind, and Soul,
The torture deepens, takes its toll.
The lie persists, the herd’s in line—
Led to slaughter, one more time.
The Age of Filth, with iron fist,
Brings forth a fascist global twist.
The fools submit, they bend with ease—
The muzzle years have proved all these.
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Totalitarian System
A single order—poisoned air,
The fools obey without a care,
They march ahead, blind to the cost,
While Culture’s treasures burn and rot.
Yet every fool will proudly claim
They build, not ruin, all the same—
But what they raise from ash and grime
Is just a Camp for Feeble Minds.
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Zero and the Shining Void
In wretched halls of greed and vice,
Zero will cut your chances thin.
The Void reflects a world not nice—
A realm of decadence and sin.
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A Harsh Farewell to Fools and Their Fascism
Go to hell, you mindless clowns,
Your fears and lies—just hollow sounds.
The dark weaves terror, feeds deceit,
Not life, but gallows on repeat.
The mind’s condemned when fools decide,
And if you follow, step in stride,
Obey, submit—descend below,
Where madness reigns and horrors grow.
Such bitter words fit times like these,
Where reason drowns in lunacies,
A world gone mad, its muzzle tight,
As evil wields its twisted might.
Through CowID years—three out of four—
Were fools, their souls erased and torn.
And half of them, beyond all hope—
The world is doomed, the final scope.
Yet ruin looms, it won’t be long,
The monster falls, undone by storm.
A cataclysm will cleanse the schism,
Farewell, you wretched, cursed fascism...
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TO THE BOTTOM...
The thieves cry out: "For motherland!"
The fools obey—an eager band,
To work, to war, to "be restored,"
To sink down faster, all on board.
The bottom’s near—no, that’s ABYSS!
The stench of Goebbels’ filth persists,
Dragging all at lightning pace
Downward, in a mad embrace.
Stay afloat? Oh, not a chance!
Blinding pain in weary glance,
So the fool goes down below,
Praising all this wretched show.
Goebbels dead? But resurrected—
Editors his cause protected!
Downward spiral, quick descent,
Time runs out—belief is spent.
Once again, the fools believe,
As the liars weave and weave,
Starting wars—rejoice, you too!
Marching faster to the BLUE.
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The Mad Ones
"Many people who shouldn’t be in psychiatric hospitals are there, while many who should be there are not."
— Gilles Deleuze
No need for madhouses to rise —
The world itself’s a madman's pit,
A rotten cage of filth and lies,
Incurable and lost in it.
A brilliant mind, a soul so kind,
Is seen as sick, not as a light.
The blind have judged it for all time,
And crushed its wings to mock its flight.
"The world is ill!" — such voices say,
And for that truth, they bear the cost.
For every fool will curse their way,
Defending their Eternal Lost.
When spirit fades, the void remains —
A crippled world, a soulless cult,
Where demon-servants pull the chains
And sell a hollowed-out result.
A brand-new idol, cast in lead,
With filth and lies concealed inside,
Till once again the world is fed
Its old ideals, rebranded pride.
And fascism never fades away,
Just twists its shape from time to time.
Then in its fit, without delay,
It slaughters fools as if no crime.
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The Human Form
"Better be poor than be unwise—
For gold is less than human guise."
— Aristippus
The fleeting form dissolves in haze,
As Brutes corrupt the world in waves.
They drown the soul in fear and lies,
And raise up beasts in fools’ disguise.
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All “For the Good”
"In a little town, a great hell burns."
— Mexican Proverb
A little town—yet hell runs deep,
Where fools are glad their lot to keep.
They chase their “joy,” yet only find
A beating “for their good”—refined.
All “for the good”: the crawling pests
Show fiends in suits on nightly quests—
Our “rulers,” hollow, dull, enslaved,
By greed and ignorance depraved.
Selection weeds out all who think,
To forge a slave—designed to sink.
While blackmail holds the leash so tight,
The fool will serve the beasts with pride.
A carrot dangles—play your part,
Obey the orders, show your art:
Decree by decree, prepare the way—
Drive all the witless to the fray.
The Beasts erect a grander Cage,
A banner bright with bloodstained age:
Fake diseases, fake salvation,
Forced on all—no reservation.
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The Rulers and the Rest
"Where violence is frequent, it is endured."
— David Durkheim
A subtler force—deceit refined,
Wrapped in a fear, cruel yet polite.
They’ll bear it all, the witless kind,
If called "the good," if named "the right."
And fools will serve that twisted creed,
If branded bright with virtue’s name—
To please the Beasts who bow and bleed,
Enslaved beneath the Goat’s domain.
The cops, the clerks, the suited swine,
The teachers trained to dim the soul—
All grind the minds by "grand design",
Unaware of their own role.
Corruption thrives, a madhouse reigns,
Among the traitors, cheap and proud.
While few may grasp the hidden chains,
They guide the herd and preach aloud.
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Soviet, and not only, Bitter Experience
"The attempt to create heaven on earth inevitably leads to the creation of hell."
— Karl Popper
We build as one! No disarray,
We won't tolerate the stray!
For clever folks, we'll set a lesson,
Slice their bread and count the blessing.
If oppression’s seen as the means,
"All for good," they say — they build the scene.
Decay, unyielding, in this march,
A vile force reigns, cold and starch.
For one who knows the gears of doom,
Genocide their aim and room!
But in the crowd, the fool’s delight,
The STENCH they feast on day and night.
For those poor fools, the soft path lies,
It hurts to fall. But there’s a prize:
The honest, wise, they'll grind away,
And others will be beasts to sway.
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Steps in the Hell
From Klein's old bottle to blockchain,
Fake AIDS outpaced the CowID scare.
In Hell, life’s simple, raw, and plain—
Just evil’s patience, lies, and fear.
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Cargo Eight Hundred
The fallen march to silent graves,
While fools defile the land in waves,
Still loyal to the monsters' lies,
Still blind to truth before their eyes.
Like poison gas, they spread deceit,
Bend them with madness—watch them kneel.
Obeying orders, they proceed—
Who needs plastid? We had CowID.
A mindless horde, a crushing tide,
Will trample reason, far and wide.
A global camp they build with pride—
Just needles, crosses glowing white.
And if you dare to think, beware—
The wise grow rare, but fools are there.
And should you stand against the flood,
Prepare to pay—condemned in blood.
The crippled world will test and break
The slaves it breeds—how much they take,
Until the final storm descends,
And sweeps away this dark pretense.
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The Prospect of Monster-Making
Vain wishes cloud the fools in haze,
As Schwab's grotesque ideas rise.
A soulless crowd obeys, unfazed,
In outreach’s storm of filth and lies.
They forge new monsters—cold, unchained,
A hybrid mind, yet steel within.
But Reason’s gasping, crushed, restrained—
Its torture marked by CowID’s sin.
Why make hybrids?—Now we see:
The brainless moron is hailed as "norm."
A mindless cog, machinery,
It fuels the fascists’ raging storm.
Do morons rule?—A hollow thought,
For they just serve decrees they read.
The circus thrives, the filth is brought,
As clowns all scramble for their feed.
Their “orders” spew more lies and sludge,
Poured down upon the mindless tide.
Escape? The grave won’t hear their grudge,
Or forests where the few still hide.
Without a soul, all ends in dust,
Their plans will rot, consumed by strife.
They’ll scorch the earth before they’re crushed—
For beasts know neither scale nor life.
All monsters rot, all fiends decay,
Their reign is doomed to fade and flee.
Not by the road they’ll waste away,
But swallowed by Eternal Gloom—
Though Light still sleeps in apathy.
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Pretending to be people...
The Cat and Rabble. Whom to choose?
With the rabble? I refuse!
Better feed the cat instead—
He's got more inside his head.
Three of four just play pretend,
Human only in the end.
Weigh them up—their worth is naught,
Only gloom is what you’ve got.
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Hiring Notice
Building up a Digital Camp
For the minds a little damp.
Real work—no second thoughts—
For submissive, loyal sots!
Join us now—you’ll weep, regret,
Or, if different, end up dead.
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Poets, Bards, and Other Scum
For the "bard," a fool at best,
Any theme is not a test.
Love and nature—same old song,
Simpleminded, dull, and wrong.
Depth of thought? A twisted mind?
That’s beyond his feeble kind.
Like a finch, so light and airy,
Singing pop-tune cover parodies.
Cutesy rhymes? They call it art!
Flooded shelves—lowbrow and tart.
All alike, without a soul,
Mindless drivel, bleak and dull.
World’s collapsing—on the brink,
Fascist filth, decay, and stink.
Yet the "bard" just hums along,
Like a madman lost in song.
Axes swing—the forest dies,
While the fool still warbles lies.
Newborn weeds of madness grow,
Chains of fear, deceit, and woe.
Drowned beneath a massive horde,
Soulless, vacant, dumb, and bored.
Yet the bard will paint it bright,
Shaking for his worthless hide.
No way forward—none at all.
Fools and fiends still run the ball,
Spreading ignorance like rot,
While the idiots eat it up.
Three in four—or maybe more—
Dumb as dirt, yet full of lore.
All this filth they try to veil—
Sing, you jester, for the frail!
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Banishing Thoughts of Slavery
Coffee, bagel—off to toil,
Daily tasks your mind will spoil,
Push away the thought, "I'm chained,
Weak of spirit, dull of brain."
Got a family? Even better!
Wrap yourself in golden fetters,
Build a world of sweet deceit—
And forget you’re on your knees.
Drop by drop, to squeeze it out?
School has taught you all about
Dodging such a foolish fight.
Grown-up life? Just blind delight!
Youthful fire fades away,
"Just be happy"—so they say.
Lodged inside your very core,
Drowning out all else and more.
Memories? They turn to dust,
Filtered well, reduced to rust,
Shaped by lies that form your views—
Crafted just for you to use.
"World is free!"—they chant and preach,
Only villains block your reach,
Keep you from success and wealth—
Not the WHIP that steals your health…
WHIP—of matter, fear, and lies,
Holding tight its hellish ties,
Strangling thoughts of chains so tight,
Till no slave sees any plight.
Thus, the bondage stays intact,
Where a hollow soul, in fact,
Thinks itself the crown of all,
Drowning deep in filth and thrall.
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