Sheep and the Shiny New Gate
A gingerbread hangs by the slaughter,
And a flag is flapping above:
It reads “We Care!” — what could be nobler?
No enemies here — just love.
New gates! In the latest fashion —
The sheep all gaze, impressed.
Such “care” is the kindest passion —
To lock them in, well-dressed.
Barbecue talk? That’s slander!
That’s what the foe proclaims.
The guides are wise and grand — their
Taste outshines petty brains.
Stylish, spotless, devoted —
Their vet’s their truest mate.
They march, content, and bloated,
Straight through that shining gate.
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They march in style to slaughter’s song —
The gate is new. The mind is gone.
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1. Cold Iron Grace
They praised the gate — not seeing why.
The style was great. The soul — to die.
2. Designer Death
They die in trend, they die in line —
The gate’s couture. The rest — divine.
3. Premium Care
They’re shaved, embalmed, and kissed goodbye —
All “for their good.” All dressed to die.
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Masters and Parrots
True Masters are few — that’s eternal.
But parrots? A swamp full of sound.
Once parrots take over — infernal!
They lie without knowing they’ve bound.
They distort every spark, every vision,
Their realms — warped mirrors of mind,
Reflecting just shallow precision —
Trust them, and truth you’ll not find.
Be a Master — awaken Intuition,
Let its light cut through disguise.
Trash your “knowledge,” “tradition,” “condition” —
Only Insight sees through the lies.
For that Insight’s the soul’s own essence,
It’s the pulse of the spirit’s breath.
Parrots breed mind’s convalescence —
Their delusions crawl close to death.
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1. Master’s Law
Parrots preach — the blind obey.
Masters carve their own way.
2. The Echo Disease
They copy — and call it divine.
The hollow repeats every line.
3. The Cure
Silence the squawk — let truth arise.
Only Insight sees through lies.
4. The Verdict
Parrots breed — the Spirit dies.
Masters rise where echo lies.
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Artificial Involution
A limper now wears sandals neat
Where once a racer flew —
Hold on a bit — mutations meet,
And centaurs join the zoo.
There’ll come the beasts, the twisted breed,
The screech, the howl, the moan —
Techno-scum of cult and creed
Will preach their brave new throne.
Then comes the fight — the final one,
For Man to stay alive.
Through ages lost, it’s all been done —
Genocide to make beasts thrive.
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1. The Last Stand
When man forgets what spirit meant —
Beast reigns by “smart” consent.
2. Techno-Fall
They call it progress — rot refined.
Machines evolve, but not the mind.
3. Genetic Gospel
They splice the flesh, erase the flame —
And call the ruin by God’s name.
4. Involution Creed
The strong ran once — the weak now crawl.
Evolution? Not at all.
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The Fall
How low can man descend — how deep?!
No shots, no chains, just lies —
That crawl through souls and softly creep,
Turning the living to carrion’s guise.
The madhouse built, the camp prepared —
It’s End of Times they crown.
One virtue left — to stand declared,
And fall with Spirit, not bow down.
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1. The Verdict
They call it peace — it smells like rot.
Stand tall, or lose the last you’ve got.
2. Spirit’s Law
When truth is banned and lies enthroned —
The brave die free, the rest are owned.
3. The End of Ends
No need for chains — belief will do.
The fall begins inside of you.
4. Defiance
They built their hell with words and screens —
But Spirit walks through shattered means.
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Revenge
Speak truth no matter what they say —
So you will forge your saving way.
Answer for yourself — at least be true,
When most the world behaves like brute.
In the global madhouse hold your stand,
Though rudeness rules and robs the land.
Keep fighting while the fools parade —
Let not your spirit be betrayed.
Only thus your bright soul you’ll keep;
Hear none — or in the noise you’ll sleep.
For in this chaos lies the lie,
And genocide may prowl nearby.
No room for private sorrow now,
Conscience crushed beneath the plow.
This tale becomes a tale of wrath —
Of vengeance walking in its path.
By this fierce vengeance will be swept
The whole obscene, corrupting heft —
For here the Spirit’s stained and torn,
And that profanation’s worst of scorn.
To trample Spirit is the worst of crimes;
Reason’s gone mute — chained clanks the times.
Only our Sun will mete this fate,
Burning all low — its power great.
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1. Sun of Vengeance
Our Sun will rise — the chaos dies.
The Spirit cleansed, the falsehood fries.
2. Wrath Unleashed
Strike the madmen, burn their den.
Only Spirit lives again.
3. Final Reckoning
Chains will shatter, lies will burn.
The tide of vengeance will return.
4. Purge
All that is corrupt and vile —
Will fall before our Sun’s fierce smile.
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Sheepish
In this world, expendable are sheep,
Their souls lost, in minds deceit runs deep.
Led by lies straight to the slaughter,
“Care” around them — the world’s cruel order.
Only this they’re deemed to deserve,
Yet our sheep seem blissful, with nerve:
Fear will pass, though the bastards scream
Their lies, their tricks — a rotten dream.
The sheep, for a moment, find delight
Gorging on rot that’s dressed up right,
Fed to them as wonders — “progress!”
All they want is to chew, nothing less.
Press them with lies, “care” all around,
Kill them softly with media sound.
News and channels churn the same,
Fear upon fear — the endless game.
Yet lies don’t bother these dumb flocks,
They care not for morals or talks.
Their world shrinks to food and drink,
Till choking on nonsense, they finally sink.
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1. Sheep’s Bliss
They chew, they gulp, they do not see —
The world crushes all, yet they feel free.
2. The Feed
Fed on lies, they bleat and munch,
Blind to the trap, they crunch and crunch.
3. Choking Game
Their joy is food, their fear is nil,
Till nonsense strangles — iron will.
4. Expendables
Sheep march on, hearts turned to straw,
The world burns down — they gape in awe.
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Hyped Literature
Hyped literature — a hollow shell
Of a world that sells its soul for pelf.
All this is pseudo-culture’s spell,
Hiding horror with treacle for wealth.
Critics there are mere scattered crumbs,
To seem like heat, a “High Intensity.”
Rare is the spark, the chosen ones,
Who break through by sheer serendipity.
A writer’s gone if he dares to write
Without the censor’s watchful eye,
Without the rabid public’s bite,
Or the bribes that let false voices fly.
Those lies invade the slaves’ own ears,
Warping minds, leading into mirages,
Killing souls amidst the gears
Of tyranny, force, and artful barrages.
The monsters learned to tame the poets,
Publishers caged, a visible proof.
But worst of all — the inner censor,
Cerberus chained, killing your truth.
Forget what you read — so little spark,
Only he can show the way out of chains.
To save your Soul from Hell’s dark mark,
Seek here yourself, beyond the feigned gains.
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1. Inner Censor
The page is loud, the lies parade —
But only you can break the shade.
2. False Culture
Critics bleat, the publishers grin,
The truth’s inside — if you’ll begin.
3. Poisoned Ink
Feed on treacle, swallow the lies —
Or wake your soul before it dies.
4. Chains of Words
Hyped words enslave the weak and blind,
Escape is yours — if truth you find.
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A Kiss That Cuts
A flying kiss — more cruel than blade,
The bitch lays soft, and slow she lies.
There’ll be a cluck, a hollow parade
That nests like rot behind your eyes.
She strikes in fiercest, vengeful art —
In treachery she finds her tune;
She’ll scour your bones, unthread your heart,
Turn sense inside out — there’s only boom.
What’s left at last is noise and din.
Exceptions flicker — rare and few.
This filthy world breeds sharks and sin;
Revenge is common, sharp and true.
Better than wasting life with such a crone
Is nothing at all — don’t linger near.
Beware the she-wolf, leave her lone —
I’ll warn you clear: she kills with sneer.
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Quick Cut
A kiss that stabs, a smile that lies —
Steer clear of vipers in disguise.
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To Have — Or To Be Had?
To take them all — blunt, brazen, rude,
Give nothing back — at exit, none.
Such lives the wretched filth will brood;
Elsewise they’re moths — all gray, undone.
Spirit-poor freaks — bankrupt inside,
Madness drops by for frequent stays.
Hence ceaseless trouble, anger wide;
Here nothing grows but bitter ways.
They pull and pull your all away,
You offer fist — they mock and grin.
The strong will wilt if some should stay
With no return; no hell will spin.
Satanism set on sucking up,
The sycophant is fed and crowned.
A figurative leech — the cup
Of “praise” there keeps the lies profound.
Word‑diarrhea masks the hellish core,
They sell us childhood mirage dreams,
Protecting stupid “daily lore” —
Eat shit proclaimed as bright new themes.
“Progress” here: shit‑suckers take the stage,
Replacing old paid bootlick crews.
Such changes wait where lies engage —
So long as all accept the ruse.
To rack and screw them all by lies —
That’s easiest, the lowest art.
If you endure, keep mute, capitulate —
You’re scum; in lies you play your part.
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Hostages of Ugliness and the Evil Propaganda
Hostages of ugliness,
In whom honor and courage live.
They’re surrounded by vile beasts,
By miasma lies conceive.
The media speaks, they preach
To fools, with promises sweet:
New fairy tales within their reach,
If they obey the script complete.
All life must forget the roots,
Shackled in super-lies’ embrace.
With such lies they kill pursuits,
While paradise is shown in place.
The CowID case shines bright —
They’ll invent more absurd plots,
By those vile beasts in faux‑news light,
Within the media’s twisted knots.
Yet no union holds, no bond,
Decay spreads everywhere.
Thus all these evil tales respond
With nothing left but empty air.
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1. Rot All Around
Hostages of lies, trapped in decay,
Beasts feast while honor fades away.
2. Media Miasma
The screens broadcast the fools’ delight,
While truth dies quietly out of sight.
3. Empty Tales
Fairy tales spun by liars’ hand,
Decay spreads swift across the land.
4. End of Scripts
No union stands — corruption thrives,
And all the evil tales end lives.
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