The Path

The Path

Don’t push your mind beyond its measure—
This Path of Thought brings little pleasure.
So many lost their way in blindness,
Trapped in the loops of their own mindness.

But Insight lifts you, clear and bright—
It lies above the mind, in sight
Of heart and soul. Let Spirit guide—
With horse and rider well allied.



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The Pyramid of Social Foolery

A noble goat ascends the tiers,
Not the last among the chain.
A wretched soul who sold his years
To Evil’s tune for fleeting gain.

He spits on those beneath his feet,
Crushes those who touch the base,
And serves the whims of those elite,
Groveling with slavish grace.

This Everest of servile grime,
A mountain built of fawning waste,
Defines the world—a hollow crime,
No room for Mind or Soul’s embrace.

Yet should such values hold their sway,
The hollow peak will quickly fall.
To those attuned, the signs convey:
Decline now looms above us all.

Degradation’s rife, unchecked;
The base will crack and pull it down.
The "summit’s" fiend, your reign is wrecked—
Weep and wail; you’ll surely drown!




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Runner

A runner turned around — in his old age
He still takes part in every race.
His life has shrunk to such a small stage,
Almost each fool a fool in place.

So simple it seems, this life's creation,
But all that's left is narrowness, nonsense, and dust.
For it's like lying in a state of comatose sensation,
In dreams, only misery and fear are just.



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Slavery

The whole world toils for food each day:
All exceptions — a mere ERROR.
But the masses, lost in their dismay,
Cry out, "Freedom, choice." Security? —

An exception: to frighten, to sway
The slaves with lies and provocations —
And so, they tighten the leash, they play
The monsters, in fear and frustration.

In fear and confusion, they dwell—
And make that their norm of existence.
To empty ideologies they fell,
Now rotting minds in blind resistance.

No hope for salvation, no way out:
A Cataclysm will break this chain.
The slave world will destroyed, "happy" without
The crushing, dull fascism's reign.



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Dissolution of the World

Subject, object — nonsense, gloom.
We’re ruled by fears and lies,
Boundless is the Spiritual Realm.
If your mind’s not left behind,

Then yield it to the Spirit’s sway,
For Spirit’s triumph will display
How the wretched world dissolves—
Like rotten cheese in a trap’s jaws.



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Catch of Evil

A multitude of hackneyed words
Like ripples. But the catch of Evil,
Its essence, lies in the Depths of Lies.
Mirages veiled in endless mist,

Crafted from false ideas —
Disguises. Through a sieve,
They pour the water everywhere—
Distracting attention, leading astray.

To understand what’s truly caught,
A fool’s test is required:
They launched the cow-ID into the pond—
Three-quarters of the mind is slain...

The rest need not be caught:
Idiots, in their merry alliance,
Will gladly exterminate the wise—
By the pond, the Monster builds

A new camp—digital,
Surrounding the damaged, mindless,
With "care"—which will be the Spirit's FINAL blow.

And soulless fools will waste their strength
Only on the tasks of Darkness.
To them, this seems today to be madness...




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Surviving to Sacrifice

We all must SURVIVE!
CREATURES will pressure us,
With their endless, vulgar survival—
Leading Souls to the slaughter,
Guided together as one.
Lies and fears, total and pure,
Fill the air, a grim allure.
Like on the scaffold, the world insane,
Bent by foolish, rigid chains.
And from these fears, the Mind lies in ruins—
Except for rare exceptions,
In this age of disconnections,
Where generations suffer from decay,
Driving the masses to dismay,
Unable to awaken:
Before Hell, they bend and break,
Further still, they'll sink and crawl.
Their future's like lemmings, bound to fall,
Group by group, they near the cliff.
They’ll jump to the abyss by order—
Idiots believe the media’s borders,
As if they believe in God.
The world stinks from the vomit of propaganda—
They showed it in Cow-ID.
Stop surviving, now, I say—
Think of saving the Soul today:
A Cataclysm approaches fast—
It will sweep away the rotten, fascist past,
Universal, relentless, and blind—
The fool in humility, aligned
To walk the path to a New Hell.
There are Spiritual Realms to dwell,
For universal Resistance, bright
Like a fairy tale, a guiding light.
Sensitive, honest hearts will find
A place in the fight, to heal the mind,
Saving the Soul by this alone—
Listen to the Psyche, in Hell, overthrown.
It’s alchemy—hard to speak,
In the verse so bleak.
Leave the Corrupt Hell behind,
If you are not the evil kind.



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Dream

Strength and skill are fading fast,
Do soap and rope come in a dream at last?
Throw the soap beneath their feet—
They’ll slip and fall, if they’re too weak.

And keep the rope as an excuse,
For when the scum might turn to use,
If they wish to hang us high,
We’ll mark them all, and by and by.



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Redemption of Sin

"Redemption of Sin"
Like a bridle for a fool,
The priest drives the reins with skill,
Steering foolish souls to Hell,
Where their minds in madness dwell.




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The Donkey's Path

A donkey bound by blinders
Cannot find his way alone.
Only carrots hung as markers
Guide him where he's meant to roam.

Blinders, donkey, dangling carrot—
Tiny world, its narrow track.
And the road to Hell inherits
All delight the carrot lacks.

Half your life, the blinders pressing,
Then you chase the bait ahead.
Through the crowd, no end to guessing—
Hooves will follow where they're led.



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The Machine Allegory

"Coupling," "bushing"—mechanized!
Cretinism supervises,
Hence the engine spins awry,
A park of machines gone awry.

One pump works beyond its bounds,
Pushing down a mix profound—
Fuel to feed cretinism.
Even machines know fascism!



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A Fool's Saint

There’s saints for all —
For fishers too!
But fools stand tall,
Their plight askew.

Their numbers reign,
No saint in sight!
Yet once again,
They’ll set it right,

By crafting lore,
More books to preach,
Of spirits poor,
To scourge and teach.

Through heresies,
The mind they rend,
With cruel decrees
The fools they bend.




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Ode to Despair

Bread, deceit, and endless shows—
Despair is trapped where no way goes.
A dead-end cycle, dark and grim,
If you don't follow Evil’s whim.

Without Despair, there's savage scorn,
A madness preached and blindly sworn.
To such delusion, sheep will bow,
Their souls to falsehood's yoke endow.

Loneliness, Despair—Creator's plight,
A path where longing dreams of light.
Yet Light shall shatter the endless snare,
And leave no trace of the lingering despair.




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To scrape by your entire life?!

Don’t scrape by—defy the fate!
Withdraw decisively, concentrate:
Break free from the asylum’s gloom,
Where they reduce you to a brute.

Futile toil, harsh and grim:
As fools are flogged on someone’s whim—
A bitter struggle to survive.
A lifetime sentence—worldwide!



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Wild nonsense roams, and countless fools сhase it down

In this mess, the Light reflects —
Swallowed whole by vile profane.
Gaia now, a Planet of Madness,
Truth a road the rare must tread.

For views and likes, the shameless spread
Nauseous trash for all to see,
Pushing Culture toward its death,
And dooming Reason to decree.

Brazen fools, without remorse,
Peddle lies in endless streams;
Evil spins the tons of nonsense,
Fueling all its twisted schemes.

No need to punish, crush, or blame
The honest souls who stand apart;
The filth of shallow, crooked minds
Will rot and tear itself apart.

Beneath the muck, there’s nothing left,
No treasures hidden to unearth.
This nonsense is a real threat
To the consciousness of Earth.



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Sobriety

To drink ; to forget ;
To wake up... and regret!
From the lifeless cycle
(So many are ensnared!)
There’s a way out – at the threshold.
Through sobriety – to Freedom!



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Oak Cubed

Stupidity cubed. Exponentially —
Baseness, lies, and lawless zeal.
Nonsense and fear grow incrementally,
To insignificance, we seal.

We'll obliterate ourselves with "progress"
In but a fleeting span of time:
It's like a press — relentless, thoughtless,
Draining lifeblood, drop by climb.

We'll extract the square root of existence,
And then repeat the process anew:
From nothingness to sheer persistence —
Were no one, and no one you'll eschew.




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An Old Record of Pseudo-Innovation

"New" is not the better way.
The cunning breed, day after day,
Spins the OLD record, sly and shrill,
Masking rot with "new" goodwill.

Into "novelty," they shove
Vileness, killing truth and love.
The spirit—core of all we learn—
Is placed upon the pyre to burn.

Once, there was a purer time,
Unmasked by deceitful rhyme,
Higher than this "novel lore,"
Where wisdom reigned, now thought's a bore.

And so they press their wretched fare,
Crushing balance, unaware.
Psychic ruin lies ahead—
Full decadence, where reason’s dead.

The mind, beneath the spirit’s reign,
Holds the line 'gainst all profane,
Shielding us from beasts’ embrace,
Strengthening reason’s rightful place.



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Bio-survival Anxiety of Biomass Waste

Tense days for the canned flesh’s plight—
Must endure, must scrape, survive,
Selling souls to darkest fright,
Where lies and fears alone can thrive.

Provocations come with ease,
Like flicked-off rain on careless hand.
In this grim world where virtues cease,
No place for wisdom’s seeds to stand.



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Total Degradation

Degradation: stagnation
Like a dream—madness, frustration,
Lies and fears, a restless haze,
Marking now the final phase.

Or perhaps the point of no returning
Looms ahead, its fire burning—
To Hell’s abyss, a foolish worm,
From this filth, you’ll twist and squirm.



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The First Among Slaves

"The noble mind is worthy of contempt when applied to base purposes."
— Baltasar Graci;n, 17th century


A lofty mind for base pursuits?!
Philosophers often spout nonsense!
For vile aims—a mind that's low.
The focus of bitter thoughts will show,

With longing for the Light above,
The Clear Mind rises. A clever psycho,
Compensating for meanness and lies
With a soul in desolation, deprived,

Will be a mound among the low,
In lies and fear, they rot and grow,
Thinking "success" and gold alone
Are measures of intellect, their throne.

Such creatures always abound, you see,
For when you serve the Pure Mind, truly,
You’re unnoticed in the crowd,
For they are MAD SLAVES, bowed.

To stand "high" among the madmen, though,
One must be persistent and loud,
Stepping on heads without a care,
Indifferent to the Spirit’s flare.

Only the Spirit is the peak.
By serving it, the soul will seek
To soar in Truth's transcendent flight—
Far from the world of foolish blight,

A truth known only to the few.
Indeed, the Mind here’s but a view—
If you take things statistically
And approach all critically.



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Parting

Farewell, unwashed Russia, I depart,
Not long in Hell I played my part.
The uniforms once blue, now dark,
"The people" come, and leave their mark:

Rashism, a parody of Hitler’s play,
Their feeble efforts lead the world astray.
A twisted double in "Putler’s" guise,
A fool’s idol for today's blind eyes.

The fools of old, the Soviets' time,
Now pale in comparison, a joke, a crime.
For now, the masses, heartless and cold,
Are fit for war, their hearts bought and sold.

I’ll hide behind the Wall of Death,
And march through Hell with every breath.
Do we live on Earth? Don’t be deceived,
In Hell we rot—Lies and Evil, we grieve.


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