Утрата иллюзий

Утрата иллюзий

"Утрата иллюзий — это прибыль или убыток?"
Станислав Ежи Лец.


Убыток, коль жаждешь "успехов" в Бедламе —
Не нужен прозревший в Стране Дураков.
"Успех" заключается в "славе" и в Хламе.
Тот хлам затмевает позор Лжи Оков.

Не прибыль, а только расчистка пространства,
Коль ищешь ты Свет на нелёгком пути
Спасения от Мирового Засранства —
В открытом пространстве ведь проще идти.

Пространства Ума — в этом всё происходит.
Утрата иллюзий движенья залог.
Пускай единицы там что-то находят,
Сам Поиск сверхважен — единственный бог.




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Типа "разумное человечество"

Мёртвая ветвь
Здравой Вселенной.
Знает Зла плеть,
Ложь в ней нетленна.




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The Dull Lyre

A bloated bug,
A filthy creeper,
The world’s a rug—
It digs in deeper.

The Lyre hums:
"Love, joy, devotion!"
The shame just numbs—
That’s all its potion.

The parasite
Would keep you sleeping:
"Seize the delight!"—
This world is weeping.



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False Faiths with a Stench of Satanism

A savage mask, a hollow fraud—
It’s Satan playing human god.
They wrote their myths, they spun their tales—
Now blind submission sets the sails.

Look Within—the truth is there,
Not in fables bred from air,
Not in scripts of twisted lies,
Where the soul is crushed and dies.

No fattened priest, no preacher’s game,
No sects that shackle you in shame—
Their nonsense bows the weak and frail,
A golden chain, a velvet jail.

These are fables meant for slaves,
A net where mindless fish behave.
Millions lost in blind submission,
Throwing gates to dark perdition.



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Grasshopper Stew

Masha gets porridge,
Vasya—a tank.
No way to dodge it,
Cyberpunk.



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The Limits of "Knowledge"

Blind to "knowledge," lost in dust,
The mind decays, consumed by rust.
The Heart knows more—so vast, so grand,
It stuns the fool who'd scoff and stand.



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The Burden of the Damned

A sack of lies, regrets, and blunders,
Of dreams that drift to dark, astray—
Doomed souls march on, torn full asunder,
And drag it down to Hell’s doorway.

The load grows worse, the road turns colder,
While fiends divide and lock the mind:
"Survive—just that!"—they scream and solder
The chains that keep the herd confined.

The end result?—Judas and fools,
Who'd sell their souls and never care
For Light or Truth, for heart-born rules,
For Honor lost in poisoned air.

And so the tale of Evil closes,
Its milestones counted to the gate—
Where every dream of virtue dozes,
And rot is all that’s left of fate.



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The Loss of Illusions

"Is losing illusions a profit or loss?"
— Stanis;aw Jerzy Lec

A loss—if you dream of success in the madhouse,
For fools hate the one who can see through the lies.
Here, fame and the filth are the keys to their triumph,
While chains forged of falsehood still dazzle blind eyes.

No profit—just space that is cleared for the seeker,
Who walks toward the Light through a path rough and steep.
Escaping the filth of this world grows much simpler
When roads aren’t so narrow, so twisted, so deep.

For all takes place in the space of the mind—
Illusions must die for the journey to start.
Few ever find what they're hoping to find,
But seeking itself is the god of the heart.



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The "Rational" Mankind

A withered branch
Of a sane creation.
Whips of Evil
Know no cessation.



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The Fascist Core of Every Regime

To twist the mind—their master play,
A fascist trick that rules the day.
No other filth is ever found—
The mob's "bright mind" runs false, unsound.

Add to that schools that breed decay,
And through the years, it stays that way.
The fool, once dulled, will rise and lead—
For in this world, the fools exceed.



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Fools and Scum

Fools and scum—don’t be deceived,
Satan’s hands have them retrieved.
Bought for trinkets, sold for vice,
Dragged down deep without a price.
To the bottom, fool—think fast!
He will own you till the last.



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The Writer’s Toil

This work’s like mining frozen stone,
A lonely, endless, harsh ordeal.
You need it—yours and yours alone,
Let others lie and call it real.



--- Total 12 poems. ---