Search
Search
The most important thing of life is Search,
Which help you find the way to Home.
The whole life of people is big Research.
It is existence foundation stone.
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Rashism
What is rashism?
On the turns of degradation
That’s ordinary fascism
Along with moronization.
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Super Trouper
“Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won’t feel blue
Like I always do
‘Cause somewhere in the crowd, there’s you”.
From the song “Super Trouper” by ABBA.
Super trouper blind the trooper -
New Pops Soldier has weakened.
Poor thing fell into the stupor -
Has destroyed the all weekend.
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Simple Ways to Scare the Fools
The mechanics of panic,
Oh, so plain to see,
Yet the crowd, volcanic,
Cools, then cries, “Agree!”
Few will learn the lessons
Failure dares to teach,
While the rest, in sessions,
Burrow out of reach.
Fate’s a grim arena
For the meek to play—
Frightened, bent, and beaten
Under devils’ sway.
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Do not invoke the name of God
For petty woes and hollow schemes.
In seeking Truth, His path is trod,
Not through the trail of stupid dreams.
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Prisoners of Evil and
their slop of substitutions
Filth instead of honor,
False instead of truth.
The creatures bring a horror—
Eat their gruel uncouth!
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The Hidden World Dictator
Madman vile,
Beastly style:
Fascist order
Spreads like doom.
Patience border
Killed by Gloom.
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The Pyramid of Social Foolery
A “noble” goat ascends the tiers,
Not the last among the chain.
A wretched soul who sold his years
To Evil’s tune for fleeting gain.
He spits on those beneath his feet,
Crushes those who touch the base,
And serves the whims of those elite,
Groveling with slavish grace.
This Everest of servile grime,
A mountain built of fawning waste,
Defines the world—a hollow crime,
No room for Mind or Soul’s embrace.
Yet should such values hold their sway,
The hollow peak will quickly fall.
To those attuned, the signs convey:
Decline now looms above us all.
Degradation’s rife, unchecked;
The base will crack and pull it down.
The “summit’s” fiend, your reign is wrecked—
Weep and wail; you’ll surely drown!
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Stump
Moss-clad stump, decayed and old—
The mind of an elder, dull and cold:
Too lazy to ponder. To strive, to care—
Chasing wealth and trinkets rare.
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Parasites of Parasites
The parasite deems, “What a life!”
Feasting on its prey with zest.
Yet, in turn, it meets a strife—
Another’s jaws, a cruel jest!
Presidents and bureaucrats,
Aren’t atop the feeding chain.
Merely seizing moments that
Bring the creatures fleeting gain.
Heads infected by a blight—
Satanism, vast, malign.
Parasites will face their plight,
All consumed by Doom’s design.
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Dreams in the midst of the hustle and bustle
Dreams, oh dreams,
Where is your sweetness?
Amidst the toil,
Where fear and weakness,
Where dullness, baseness, lies, and shame,
And the vile traitor sold to fame?
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A Doomed Little World
Lies are everywhere,
And the vile, unfair,
Is “the norm,” they say—
The world’s lost its way.
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Hockey Without the Puck
“Winnipeg”–"New York": a fierce bout!
They play rough, sticks striking out,
But not vile; and yet the schemer,
That meek politician-dreamer,
Only seems a kindly weeper,
Following orders of dark creatures,
Hidden beasts, unseen, insane,
Driving policies profane.
Genocide’s their brutal art,
The dull CowID’s a telling chart:
How “success” is carved so grimly—
In the end, most people, simply,
Are just nothing, empty-hearted.
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“Songs and Dances”
“Songs and dances” on command,
By advice or helping hand,
For the monsters in their masks,
Dancing on the bones grasp.
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The Pseudo-Scholar
Confined to a narrow realm, no time for critique,
The bigger picture lost beneath trivial haze.
Endless data clouds the mind, so to speak,
Without the vital keys to clear the maze.
These keys might set the system into place,
Or tear it down with the skill of a fraud.
But there’s no need to strain or lose the race—
A grant’s like faith, and leadership’s like God.
The Spirit erased from the sciences’ creed—
The very source of life, the missing key.
So theories are but opinions, indeed,
Detached from truth—where grants hold tyranny.
Those who pay decide which way you’ll be steered,
With small rewards to guide you on your quest.
People always lead, but make things unclear—
And decay prevails in what was once the best.
For those who’ve turned from science and reflection,
Seek within yourself for the keys to find.
Or else you’ll fall to mindless dissection,
Lost in a world of hollow, shattered mind.
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Pesky bore
“Yes requires repetition.”
Jacques Derrida
This nagging world instills anew
The urge to bow before its lies.
It echoes loudly: “Join the queue!”
And when you say “No,” it denies,
Repeats again, with shifts in tone,
Its goal: to rot your mind and soul,
To keep you chained, to keep you prone—
Obedience, the only role.
For “Yes” is servitude’s first breath.
So sharpen doubt, let it refine,
Resist decay, that creeping death,
And master it within your mind.
Let intuition light the way
And teach you oft to answer “No.”
Without it, madness gains its sway,
And nonsense in your heart will grow.
A madhouse world, a rotting pit,
Infernal forces take command;
They drive the broken, crazed, unfit,
And make them cattle, meek and bland.
Behold the farce of hollow states,
Exposed through CowID’s disguise.
The sheep submit to their cruel fates,
While others fade in shame and lies.
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The ship Ego sails towards the port “Trouble”
Its belly heavy, its mind a weight,
The sails are filled with winds of fear,
n course towards a dire fate.
Reduce the load,
Thin out the mind,
Lower the sails,
And seek to find
A different goal—
A distant blue,
The Soul will yearn for that horizon true.
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Change of Ideologies
Nonsense reigns now—
“Passion” fades somehow.
They’ll justify
New foggy lies,
And loyal fools, grotesque and tame,
Will send to new, unwelcome shame.
For woes are born from bitter schemes,
Born from cruel, destructive dreams.
By fear, but not by their might,
The tyrants bend the world to blight.
The road to Hell is paved with dust,
In words, not faith, they place their trust.
Few dare resist, the rest comply,
While watching nature’s truth slip by.
Look within, and cast off lies—
Your mind will clear, your spirit rise.
For light’s not found in things you see,
But deep within, in truth and free.
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Talent grows in the Soul’s vast domain, not in the genes
Do genes define a gifted mind?
No, talent from a different kind.
Through muses’ breath, the spirit soars,
Far from the world’s mundane shores.
On the edge, where danger calls,
Unbowed beneath deceitful thralls,
Keep your heart untainted, pure—
Return to the Source to endure.
Beyond the Source, all art is vain;
Creation turns to hollow strain.
So cast off lies, embrace what’s true,
And let insight and grace renew.
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The Problem of Restoring the Mind
Hardy, crazy dolly Daisy
is a mind pliant to Evil.
All in it is very hazy.
The most problem is retrieval.
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All poems are located at address http://vykhovanets.yzz.me
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