Фатальность различий

Мрак и Стыд

Расписанье войн и гладов
Заготовлено давно.
Мир под властью мерзких гадов.
Лже-болезни — нью-говно:

Был говнид, за век — "испанка".
Всюду тихий геноцид:
Честный — поступай в подранки.
Разложенье, Мрак и Стыд...



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Рогатый бог

"Настоящий человек состоит из вопросов, настоящий Бог состоял бы из ответов".
Станислав Ежи Лец.


Вопрос — ответ.
Ответом Бред:
Рогатый бог  —
Повсюду след.
Как мир убог...




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Люди и кошки

"Если человека можно было бы скрестить с кошкой, человек от этого только бы выиграл. Чего нельзя сказать о кошке".
Марк Твен.


Дикость кошек дворов`ых?
Там сообщество всегда!
Человек — убогий псих:
Только он идёт в Стада.

Стадо гонят на убой,
Говоря, что на прокорм.
Остаётся кот собой —
Не достанет ТВАРЕЙ Вздор.




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Фатальность различий

"Один человек отличается от другого больше, чем разнятся два животных разных видов".
Мишель де Монтень, XVI-ый век.


Различия фатальны —
Разумным не спастись.
Добьёт  мир инфернальных
ОСТАТКИ их: "Сплотись!" —

Крик мёртвого в Пустыне.
Пустыни городов
В Маразме. В жилах стынет
Кровь редких не-скотов.




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Окружность Души во Мраке мира

Что старость?
Усталость.
Ненужность.
Окружность
Сжимается в Тьме —
Дух тонет в "уме".

Вариант: Дух тонет в Дерьме.



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The Soul's Perimeter in the World's Dark Veil

What's aging?
A fading,
A wasting,
A shading.
The circle shrinks tight—
Mind drowns out the light.



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False Freedom and Its Funny Signs

A statue stands—
"Of freedom," they say.
I stare at it straight—
Still fake to this day...



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Obelisk on the Place de la Concorde

Concorde Square—
A "shaft" in the middle.
Brought from the Nile,
Now stuck here, brittle.

Darkness is welcomed,
Crowds bow and kneel.
This they call freedom?
A myth—but it's real.

Rulers are twisted,
Masters of lies.
Here, truth’s resisted—
Fraud never dies...



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In Hell

No wonders remain—
This world starts to wane,
Like branches decayed,
As Hell took the glade.
Its roots burn below—
There's nowhere to go.



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Place de la Concorde

Concorde Square—
What a despair!
What’s to embrace?
Darkness in place?

Madness rules—
I won’t comply!
Lies stand tall—
I dare defy!



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Global Digital Prison Camp

Satan’s law, brute control—
Idiocy takes its toll.
Nothing new—just the same,
As the masses sink in shame.

Low is high in their disguise,
Twisted world of upside-down lies.
Soon, just numbers, none remain,
Human souls erased in vain.

A new Camp is drawing near,
Modern, digital, severe—
White flag marked with a crimson cross,
For the minds already lost.



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Fools and the Media

Strong in body, dull in mind,
Blindly following the grind.
In the war, they play their part,
Killing off the sacred spark.

Media—new god they serve,
Ruling all with twisted nerve.
Fools obey without a fight—
Long as fear stays out of sight,
They believe the promised light...



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Darkness and Shame

Wars and famine, all preplanned,
Monsters rule across the land.
Fake diseases, same old game—
Different age, but still the same.

CowID came, like past "plagues" did,
Silent culling, genocide.
Truthful ones are left half-dead—
Rot, and Darkness, Shame widespread...



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Morning’s Duller Than the Night

If your day was fully spent,
Morning feels less bright, less keen.
Tighter schedules—every cent.
Idle? You are less than seen.



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March and Marathon to Versailles

A run to Versailles,
Like hunger foretold.
The Beast rules the skies—
Moloch takes hold.

The signal is clear—
A tradition of old.
Then lies will appear,
As police stand bold.



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Sports on the Zombie Screen

"Oh sport, you’re the world!"
But the world’s a foul swirl.
They drown us in pain,
The call's “Attack!” again—
CowID, war,
We’ve hit the floor.

Total media reigns,
Lies are believed,
Sports are their chains,
In a world deceived.

Strong and tough they sell—
Like humans, we’re food for their hell.
The fool believes it, too,
In this twisted view.

The Devil's in charge—
It’s endless, large.



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Different Kinds of Sports

Forget the litre-ball, and football too,
It’s all just nonsense, nothing true.
Study the tyranny of the dark,
Sports are harder—years to embark.

Checkers, chess, and Go—
They fade when faced with this woe.
So much in sports to see,
As we’re crushed by the beast’s decree.

It’s just the starting stage,
Time to grow into a sage.
A smart young man—like a log—
Through the years, the mind’s a fog.

The champion’s time will arrive,
When you’ve found ways to survive.
But you’ll fail if you believe
That the slaves will ever leave.

It’s tough—this super-sport’s a test:
How to save a world that’s less,
Where two-thirds are fools at best.



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Resting Amid the Chaos

I rest amidst the chaos wide,
For media’s grasp is far and wide.
These forces I shall multiply,
To fight the lies, to reach the sky.

Against the media, the beasts,
Who stir the world’s chaotic feasts.
We must resist, or face the cost—
Or else the beast will pull us lost.



--- Total 18 poems. ---