Economic Cattle

"Прилёг вздремнуть я у лафета"
Среди войны кошмара, бреда...
— За что народцам бремя это?
— За то, что рабство не узрето,
Ведь гонят их бичом "свободы",
И снова верят Лжи уроды...



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Economic Cattle

Greed-born troubles, minds decayed,
Fruits of folly on display.
Deaf and dumb, no thought, no plea—
Livestock for economy.



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A Murky Tale and a Frightful Fable

A fable’s just the start, they say,
The tale is darker far:
A fool obeys and strokes away—
The devil’s penned in char.

Now dreams and life are intertwined,
A "fantasy" untamed.
Do thinkers still remain behind?
Whom do they praise and name?

So few are wise—their idols lie,
Deceit is crowned instead.
The world sinks lower, scraping by,
Its soul already dead.

That fable—once creation bright—
Now fuels the flames ahead.
A tale of rot, of doomed delight—
Of ruin’s final spread.



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A Poet’s Bliss

These "autumn" tunes in verses ring,
So strong before the end—
For Satan’s madhouse, laughing, sing,
As darkness claims its land.

The filth will fade—its time is short,
Though now it floods the way.
So dare to speak—no fears to court,
When death stands but a day.

Yet death must meet your steady gaze
In every fleeting spark,
Then greed won’t lure your soul to waste,
You’ll break, yet leave your mark.

Then knock on walls—no fear, no chains,
For poetry is fight.
And if you fall, a voice remains—
One stronger will ignite.



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"Refined" Vulgarity

Vulgar turns to "deep" instead—
A twisted mind, a snob well-bred.



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Babbling Freaks of Pseudoscience

A "fact" is bent to fit the mold,
The fool keeps silent, bought and sold.
For science false, the rule is plain—
Just empty words, a hollow chain.

What breaks their claims, they’ll never see,
Blind fools won’t hear what truth might be.
They trust their modern prophet clan,
Where "proof" and nonsense go hand in hand,
And faith in lies corrupts the land.



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"Faith," So to Speak

To "trust" means twisting all through lore,
A mind-disease, a fever sore.
And in delirium’s embrace,
I’ll "find" my "savior"—fall from grace.



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A Servile Mind

Like lambs, they march without a fight,
To slaughter—glad, convinced they’re right.
They only dare to doubt and fear
Themselves—so simple, so sincere.



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I lay to rest by cannon’s side
Amidst the war’s mad, raging tide...
— What curse upon these people fell?
— They failed to see their captive cell.
For "freedom’s" lash still drives them blind,
And once again they trust the Lie.



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This "culture" drill—I've had enough,
Its hollow rules—just twisted stuff.
The fools preach "virtue" loud and clear,
While scoundrels drive the herd with fear.
They fool the minds, prepare bullpen,
Then send the weak to die again,
While idly chatting all along:
"Stand up! Stay strong! Keep fighting on!"



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"It's just a business," they will say,
Excusing all in greed's embrace.
Then sink still lower day by day—
No depth too dark for their disgrace.



--- Total 11 poems. ---