Lying Madhouse
Lying Madhouse
Trash on screen, it’s pure deception,
Lies so vile, my ears take flight,
Media’s stench—no redemption,
Like a madhouse day and night.
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The Global Corral
To perish, to vanish
In fear and false treason.
The sheeps bear the savage,
Their minds plagued with poison.
Through the brain—a vile flood,
A foul stench left to linger.
The herd writhes in the mud,
Dragged down by its wringers.
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So-Called...
A “so-called Ukraine,” they claim,
A term in Kremlin’s vile refrain.
But what I found was grief and shame,
In a foreign land, through war’s disdain.
A “so-called shell” tore through my flesh,
Left me with stumps where legs had been.
Yet still I trust their lies afresh—
Without them, Hell I’d never “win”.
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The Herds
I believe! Though little knowing—
Facts mean naught to herds below.
To the barking, snarling, crowing
Dogs, they yield and blindly go.
Herds are tightened, penned in places,
Marked for slaughter, bound to fail.
Faith persists, as time erases—
Sheep comply with darkened tales.
“Laws” decree: the shears are needed
For the health of every lamb.
Rotting hay by rain is seeded,
Mud-soaked pastures—who gives damn?
Shepherds, wise, intend no sorrow
For their docile, woolly throng.
Blades are honed, and come the morrow,
Neighbors fall—the weak, the wrong.
And the nearby flocks are trembling—
War returns to claim its due.
Drink your fill, oh beasts assembling:
Blood will flow to sate the few!
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Spawn of the Horned One
“Teachers, professors, parents—all members of this society, are more or less corrupted by it. How can they give students what they do not possess themselves?”
—Mikhail Bakunin.
Their “good” is vain attempt,
By twisted means it’s bent,
In “teaching’s” cruel intent,
To lead the innocent.
Fools have bowed to vice,
Calling it God’s sign.
They shape beneath their guise,
The spawn of goat malign.
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Inhumans
Do I live here, or just decay,
With fear and lies to cloud the day?
The “government”...—I curse, berate,
Without knowing: inhumans shaped our Fate.
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Our Horned Father
If you’ve trudged through life’s cruel school,
Bowed to power, played the fool,
Scared and blind, in lies you wallow,
Trading soul for dreams so hollow.
Signed by beasts, your mind betrayed,
A witless pawn, no price too great.
For such “scholars,” meek and broken,
Satan reigns—the god they’ve chosen.
Call him “Father,” praise his glow,
Blindly cheering a false light’s show.
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“Marines”
What is an automatic gun?
A sender of bullets, swift and grim?
A servant of Evil, a deadly one,
Listening to what CREATURES spin?
Believing lies, obeying commands,
A soulless machine of ruthless design—
Through poisoned minds, by unseen hands,
They corrupt humanity, line by line.
The stronger the CREATURES’ hold grows,
The more of these machines arise—
Now, as the tide of darkness flows,
“Marines” are legions in disguise.
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The Land under Evil
Fools believe they’re something greater,
Than feedstock for insane “creator”.
If all fools will fall in Evil hand,
Cretinism grips all Unhappy Land.
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Work
To be a fool—a heavy chore,
For fools abound, and more, and more.
Idiocy now reigns “supreme”,
World Fascism’s ever-growing scheme.
Darkness laid the ancient base,
An idiotic, boundless space.
Let them crush “ideals” anew,
False idols flood the wretched view.
If vile seems trite, worn to the bone,
A fresh grotesque will soon be grown.
Devour neighbors, one by one,
And thus, the path is clearly spun.
Once again, the Overton Window
Widens wide, like open sin.
Laws will follow, signed and sealed,
To make the World a wasteful field.
Fools, decay, vile powers that be,
Mark the world’s identity.
Idiots rise in false elation,
Ever easy for their station.
They’ll gather all, erect anew
A global camp of poisoned hue,
Tripling lies with weary breath,
Leading minds to living death.
6”
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To the Light
Hour by hour, Evil grows harsher
For the our Spirit in marcher.
Cretinism spreads, a darkened schism—
And so all around, we see fascism.
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Swine Paradise
Party. Fun. A wild delight.
Boredom gnaws through every night—
Vodka, music, endless play,
Just a dried-up cake of clay:
Thoughts have crumbled, soaked in booze,
Moldy crusts my mind did choose.
Dreamt I woke in heaven’s glow—
But a swine’s dumb face did show.
Only fools and gluttons gain
“Heaven’s gates” through gluttony’s reign:
Eat, indulge, and take your fill,
Grab it all—consume at will!
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Transnistria
The world’s far end:
Cold, forlorn, no friend.
A ruthless rule, its fury old,
A tyranny of iron mold.
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Deceptions and fake countries
The wheel of lies with evil’s core,
Its axis forged in Titan lore,
Keeps spinning, seeking victims new,
For the _Goat of All World to chew.
These _CREATURES reign through ancient lies,
Their venom taints both weak and wise.
Fake diseases grips the feeble mind,
While banners wave for wars designed.
“Different” “countries” clash and fight,
Their colors blaze to blind the sight.
And we deserve this fate we see—
Dull stumps, a vast majority.
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Mass “culture”, or King of the Heap
Entertainments is disgrace,
If it mind and soul erase.
Fool takes pride his filthy place—
King of Garbage Heap, he “reigns”.
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Ashes of a Shameful World
The candle burns,
For light is gone.
A mind that churns
Writes ramblings on.
And yet, you see,
It’s nothing new:
The void will spree
To weave its crew.
Such is this world—
From lie to lie,
Where tyrants curled
Are glorified.
To leave a mark
In verse or deed—
This lights the dark,
Our only creed.
Shame’s ashes flare,
This base abyss—
A gateway where
Damnation twists.
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“Happiness”
Should you chase “happiness” too blindly,
You’ll awake one day, unkindly,
Trapped in snares that hold you fast—
Fools are steered by beasts amassed.
They will ride, with sweet deception,
Promising joy and pure perfection.
When the feast divides, there’s naught—
Few can grasp what’s truly wrought.
Since our childhood, minds are tainted:
“World is bright and fine,” it’s painted.
Yet, to find that fabled treasure
Amidst misfortunes is the measure.
Woes are crafted, all contrived—
Madmen fail to see they’ve thrived.
“Happiness” within them lies,
Sharpened stones to test the wise.
For so few will truly mature;
This harsh truth remains obscure.
Look around, stare close and see—
Immaturity’s vast sea.
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Propagandists and Police
A nasal drone of endless lies
Pours into slaves’ distracted ears.
While watchful cops, with eager eyes,
Defend the chains and stoke the fears.
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Like “Rolling Blackouts”
The “fan” has failed—dark hours loom,
Cold bites, no warmth to chase the gloom.
A foolish land, beneath dogs’ reign—
A pack unmatched in spite and pain.
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CowID and “crisis” “rews”
Crisis team,
Command in place:
World’s corpse dream,
“Living” trace.
Guard it close from all dissension,
To ensure its decomposition.
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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