Верность себе

Верность себе

"Будь верен себе, и ты будешь неверен другим".
Фрэнсис Бэкон, 17-ый век.


Толпа идёт во Тьме к маразму —
Тебе с тем чмом не по пути:
Не выполняешь Зла приказы —
Ты отщепенец. Не ахти

Все отношения, и с детства?
Неверным тут же назовут.
Не хочешь быть для тварей СРЕДСТВОМ —
Не верен их "идеям", плут!

Но называют Зла "идеи"
Словами важными всегда.
Будь верен лишь себе, иль стлеет
Душа средь Лжи и глупого труда.



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Нью-Колобок

Колобок катился в суп,
Отвлекаясь на зверей.
Думаешь, не столь ты глуп?
Если так, тогда подлей...



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Догматизм лженауки и цели, которые перед ней ставят

Догматизм зашкален — это
Лженаука, господа:
Дохрена там лжи и бреда —
Не окстится никогда,

Так как те, кто деньги платят,
Лжерелигиям взамен
Чуши ком на дурней катят
В ожиданьи перемен.

Перемены — будет Лагерь
Новый, типа цифровой:
Правду там запрячут в баге,
Чип в руке — городовой.

Будут в оном лже-болезни —
Ядом станут их лечить.
Кто покорней — тот полезней.
Людям, не скотам, — не жить!




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In Hell

I’ve had enough—too much to take,
A world so vile, so cheap, so fake.
Among the horned, we search for grace—
Hold on a bit, just keep your place.

This feast of Evil soon will cease,
But dare relax—you’ll lose your peace.
One slip, one step—you’ll pay the price,
And wake in Hell… but fresh and nice.



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Brewing the Potion of Change

We brew the potion of deceit,
To smear the world in tainted sleet.
Through us, it falls—enslaved, confined—
We give away the trap we find.



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Zombies and Fools

Zombies and fools write poems still,
But soon will come the poet's ill—
The death of verse, with vulgar screams,
Drowned in the flood of filthy dreams.

Why, you ask? Among this tide,
True poets hide, their voices died—
Like searching through the endless mess,
For truth that’s lost in emptiness.



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Aging Children and "Adult Games"

Playing grown-up’s easy, see—
Just grow up, and you’ll be free!
So many adults, they lie with grace—
A third of old folks live in disgrace.



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;He Drives Out the Devils

He drives the devils far away,
The Light of Truth, it clears the way.
Yet among men, a half-turned fiend—
That’s why the lies are all we’ve seen.



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Experiments with Form

Experiments with form are vain,
When meaning’s lost or starts to wane.
You pound the water in a sieve—
And watch the last of sense just give.



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The Boogeyman (The Recluse)

Is the Boogeyman a curse or salt
To all of Nature’s mighty fault?
To fools, let go—let them decay,
They waste their nights, they waste their days,
In greed they thrive, in mind they fight,
Caught in a war with no end in sight.



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The Blabbermouths

The blabbermouths, with stomps and claps,
They shuffle through their lives, perhaps.
Though full of fools and empty strife,
From their mouths—just slime and lies.



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No Shame

To stoop to lows and mingle with grime—
The road to "success," in its twisted climb.
And for the Devil, it’s just a game—
A laugh, a jest, a burning flame.



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Hell's Regatta

Fears and worries strike the mind,
Lies: the fools are left behind.
The world, once calm and free of spite,
Is bound, now lost, in endless night.
Dear sir, who’ll captain through this tide—
A hell-bound race, no place to hide?



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"Enemy of the People"

"Enemy of the people," they claim,
When Nature takes what’s due through you.
You listen close—yet they, in shame,
Will never forgive what’s pure and true.

Decay’s the part that they embrace,
The fools are countless, lost in space.
By being yourself, you stand in their way,
As they bow down to Evil’s sway.



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Overcrowded Hell

Manstein, the marshal, rides with speed,
On tank to Hell, with ruthless greed.
What now to do with fascist scum?
It’s time to clone for Hell’s strong glum.



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Vivisection College

The college of vivisection’s creed—
It showed that CowID’s all we need.
From this "sect" a doctor’s made,
His mind, now crushed, in ignorance laid.



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The Burning... of Hell

The sun beats down with growing might,
And burns this Hell with scorching light.
It feels more free, more clear the air,
If you're not vile, a soul laid bare.



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The Inevitable End of the World

To reach this point!—the path of hate,
Where fascism seals a grimish fate.
But if the tide of fools will rise,
Then let us sweep it all aside.



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Balalaika

I tune the balalaika sweet,
To play a tune so soft, complete.
I’ll hide no truth, I’ll show no care—
Just share the nonsense, unaware.

The balalaika means no more
Than empty sound, a hollow roar.
Most play along with foolish cheer—
A triumph of the mindless here.



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Mountain Fantasy

The wind blows cold across the peaks,
While in the valleys, heat and reeks.
How did we fall to fools so deep?
A peak’s in reach, but still, we weep.

The outlook’s grim since we were born,
Dumbness spreads, a blight, a scorn.
Through generations, fools arise—
In ignorance, the beasts devise.

They rule the world, and for long years,
With twisted truths and hidden fears.
Lies command the fools who bend,
The servants of the Devil’s end.



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Literary Heroes and Modern Strays

The Musketeers, with swords in hand,
Will duel with words, make their stand.
A blade, a verdict to defend,
While modern fools just twist and bend.

They swallow lies, they bow, they kneel,
To govern through the fake, the real.
To CowID, will the world concede?
To write a novel? "Nothing" is the deed.



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The Belief of the Zombies

White and fluffy,
Putler, they trust,
Zombies believe
In terrorists, in "AIDS," in CowID, unjust.
Neighbors have changed,
Now Nazism reigns.
The devils delight,
Spreading fascist chains.

It only gets worse,
With death’s toxic breath—
In the media, false culture,
Zombies dwell in madness, beneath.



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Poltergeist, or the Original Sin of Lies

A poltergeist’s no error,
Not a flaw in how we see,
A noisy reader of our thoughts,
You’re trapped if lies are key.

Many facts—they study them,
But only fools take heed.
False science kills the seeds of truth,
That in the mind should breed.

Clerics twist the meaning,
Of what’s real, with lies they spin—
The primal sin is clear to see:
Spreading lies to all within.



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A World Without War is a World Without Lies

A world without war is a world without lies.
Fools’ blabber feeds the beasts’ demise.
They drive them to the slaughter’s gate.
Stay true to yourself, don’t imitate.

Find your own way, don’t wait for a guide—
If it’s all chewed up for you, don’t decide.
The wicked serpent will twist your mind,
Poison disguised as balm, so blind.



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The Miracle

A miracle: when feelings bind the mind—
It’s almost like a taste of heaven’s find.
But wild emotions lead to disarray,
As beasts of chaos push the mind astray.

They shut the reason, turn the gears of spite,
And with that madness, darkness takes its flight.
In that wild storm, the "people" lose their way—
Believing lies, they blindly fall and sway.



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How does an hour turn to two?
In sluggish form, in twisted view—
To listen close to what’s inside,
And then the beast is pacified.



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Dew, a wasp,
And a fly nearby,
Almost grace,
A joy to the eye—

Without the fly...
But pests still breed,
Like slaves, they grow,
With speed and greed.



--- Total 27 poems. ---