Плыть по течению на подручных средствах

Деградация Духовности в черни

"Тонкие материи"
В быдле через секс:
СУЩНОСТИ мистерии
Заменил "рефлекс".




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Плыть по течению на подручных средствах

По теченью в "Разложенье —
Пункт конечный на пути.
Средь убогих поколений
Яростных пловцов найти,

Что всё время против течки,
Утонуть почтя за честь,
Трудно: как найти предтечу,
Что несёт благую весть.

Весть благая средь фашизма,
Поглотившего весь мир:
Дух спасают Катаклизмом,
Если мир стал как сортир.

Как сортир: говнид и войны,
Те, что следуют за ним.
Катаклизма все достойны —
Зло сплошь терпим, себя мним

Исключеньем общих правил,
По течению плывя.
Яростный пловец оставил
Силы все и ждёт Огня...




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Мнительность и впечатлительность,
Голос Разума в толпе
Стал как шёпот — исключительность:
Словно дырка в скорлупе.

Ложь как кальций — укрепляют
Ею всюду скорлупу:
Идиоты вновь мечтают,
Куклу "Трам" и куклу "Пу"

Слушая и веря басням.
Только вышел казусок:
Стали басни те ужасней
Страшной сказки — вышел срок!

Вышел срок убогой жизДни —
И сжигается мирок:
Солнце испаряет слизней —
Пред Землёю то зарок.

Было так, и снова стало —
Цикл Маразма подошёл
К апогею, в нём пропало
Много Душ чрез Произвол.

Произвол чертей зашкален —
Показал то нам говнид:
Мир тотально инфернален —
Только СЖЕЧЬ весь этот СТЫД!..



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Scatter minds — the Hell will rise.
Fight with thought — or soul dies.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery

Fragments scattered, minds undone,
Splitting souls beneath dark sun.
From the abyss, the lies arise—
Filth that weaves a cursed guise.

Caught within the petty snares,
Bound by fear, the spirit fares.
This infernal, timeless spell
Binds the soul in shadowed hell.

Only those who dare to dance
With the flames of ancient trance
Stand against the creeping blight—
Guardians of the sacred light.

Soulless fiends embrace the dark,
Feeding on the spirit’s spark.
But the mind, sharp, clear, and bright,
Cuts the veil and claims the night.

Intuition’s mystic blade,
Critical thought, the shield they’ve made.
Breaking cycles, rending lies,
Rising where the shadow dies.



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Shattered lies and shadows bind—
Only light can break the blind.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery (Mysteries of Passage)

Scattered shards of fractured mind,
Souls divide, then intertwine.
Through the darkened veil we pass—
Ancient rites within the glass.

Lies like shadows coil and creep,
Binding souls in endless sleep.
Yet the fire of trial burns,
Calling forth as spirit turns.

In the chamber of the night,
Where illusions lose their might,
Guardians stand with sharpened sight—
Keepers of the sacred light.

Through the death of old deceit,
And the heartbeat’s steady beat,
Mind and soul in trial’s dance,
Claim the path of true advance.

Intuition’s whispered flame,
Critical thought, the alchemist’s name.
Breaking chains of hellish lore—
Cross the gate, emerge once more.



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Through shadowed rites and fire’s breath—
Death of old, rebirth from death.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery (Guardians of the Gates)

Shattered mind, like broken flame,
Through the fire, we shed the blame.
Waters wash the soul anew—
Cleansing lies that poison you.

At the gates, the guardians wait,
Silent watchers of our fate.
Spirits guide the trembling way,
Through the night to birth the day.

Lies like shadows coil and bite,
But the flame reveals the light.
Trial’s dance—a sacred art—
Breaking chains around the heart.

Intuition’s flame ignites,
Critical thought, the guiding lights.
Cross the threshold, shed the past—
Find the truth that will outlast.



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Fire cleanses, waters heal,
Guardians guide — the soul’s ordeal.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery (Alchemy of the Soul)

Broken shards of shattered mind,
In the crucible we find
Fire’s wrath and water’s flow—
Alchemist’s sacred undertow.

Burn away the dross, the lies,
Smoke that blinds the spirit’s eyes.
From the ash, the soul reborn—
Through the night and breaking dawn.

Lead to gold, the mystic art,
Turning darkness into heart.
Trial’s flame refines the core—
Chains dissolve forevermore.

Guided by the inner spark,
Piercing through the deepest dark.
Thought and flame, the alchemist’s key—
Unlock the soul’s true alchemy.



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Fire burns, the soul refines,
Lead to gold through shadowed signs.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery
(Alchemy of the Four Elements)

Shattered mind, the prima materia,
Lead within the dark hysteria.
Fire’s flame ignites the soul,
Burning dross to make it whole.

Water flows — the cleansing stream,
Washing lies from waking dream.
Air unfolds the dawning thought,
Breath of wisdom dearly bought.

Earth, the base that grounds the flight,
Shapes the spirit through the night.
Salt and sulfur, mercury,
Dance in alchemist’s mystery.

Through the furnace, dark and deep,
Spirit wakes from ancient sleep.
Trial’s fire and water’s wave,
Forge the soul the light will save.

Intuition, thought, and flame,
One within the mystic name.
Breaking chains, the self made free—
Soul transformed eternally.



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Fire burns and waters cleanse,
Air inspires, Earth makes sense.



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The Hellish Cycle of Sorcery
(Occult Alchemy and Mystical Rite)

Prima materia, dark and cold,
The base where all begins untold.
Leaden soul in shadow’s grip,
Bound by chains of ancient script.

Sulfur’s fire, the blazing breath,
Consuming lies and waking death.
Salt, the earth that grounds and binds,
Shapes the flesh and molds the minds.

Mercury, the fleeting soul,
Fluid, shifting, seeking whole.
Fourfold dance of earth and air,
Fire’s wrath and water’s care.

In the sacred circle drawn,
Underneath the veiled dark dawn,
Rites of old, the mystic flame,
Call the soul to shed its shame.

Transmute the dark to shining gold,
Break the curse of lies untold.
Through the furnace, through the veil,
Spirit’s light will rise and sail.

Intuition’s secret key,
Unlocks ancient alchemy.
Thought and flame as one shall be—
Soul reborn eternally.



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Lead to gold, dark into light,
Fourfold elements unite.



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The Fakir Sobered Up...

“The fakir was drunk, the trick failed tight...”
Nonsense, scams, and lies take flight.
Propaganda’s buzzing drones,
Feeding sweet on poisoned tones.

Stupidity, deceit, and fear —
Rot have spoiled the world’s veneer.
Sheep like heads upon the block,
Soon will end the clever flock.

The time is near. Tyrants erred —
Sheep and masters both will share
Breathless fate, the fascist lie,
Overflowing, doomed to die.

Judgment’s scale is tipping high,
Punishment will scorch the sky.
From the ashes, new world’s fire —
Burn the cells, sober fakir.



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Fakir sober, lies undone—
Sheep will fall, and so will scum.



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Drought

A single drop within the rain—
The fractal cosmos waits the strain.
The earth in need, by fools betrayed,
Their sweep begun, the plan is laid.

An age is born of that design,
No saving grace, no more divine.
The countdown starts, the fate is cast—
Salvation’s lost; it’s doomed to last.



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One drop lost — the drought begins,
Fools drag earth to fading sins.



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Expecting an Honest Search


To just make search — is that too much?
Does this world lack a simple touch?
What’s worth a world that’s just a pit?
Is this a world? Or just a sh*t?



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Search for truth? Just filthy lies.
This world’s a dump — no good disguise.



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The Hook and the Spinning Top

A fool’s attempt to grasp the horns,
For luck and vice in cursed forms—
But it’s just a hook, you see:
Caught ones silent, never free.

Young sheep from every shambling land
Know nothing of the hook’s command.
They spin around like tops in trap,
Till caught—then silence seals their wrap.

The whole world’s just a penned-in zone,
A twisted trap, a darkened throne.



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Caught on hooks, the fools just spin —
Silent sheep trapped deep within.



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From Hell to Hell...

To be born among the beasts—
Into hell so black and vast—
Mind will parch, the Spirit roast,
Lost within a savage blast.

Die—and yet another hell
Waits to pay the price of mad.
Only filth and foulness reign,
Only beasts leave marks so sad.



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From hell to hell, the spirit’s torn—
In filthy shadows, all is born.



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From Hell to Hell

To dwell amid the shadowed beasts,
In hell where light and reason cease—
The mind grows dry, the spirit burns,
Lost in wild delirium’s turns.

Death brings no rest, but darker gates,
A judgment forged in twisted fates.
Where only filth and foulness thrive,
And cursed souls alone survive.

No grace remains, no gentle breath—
Just endless night, eternal death.
A spiral down through shadow’s sea,
From hell to hell, no soul is free.



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Hell within, and hell without—
The soul’s lost path, the endless doubt.



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Pressure on Repeat

“The chains that form outside your soul
Are always slavery’s cruel toll.”
— Osho


The stench surges, off the scale,
A prison world, a fatal jail.
Your path is lost if fools you trust—
Disaster waits; betrayals thrust.

You open doors to every lie,
And chances fade, you barely try.
In rotten lies, the shades abound—
Bright wraps, deceit in every sound.

Hot calls, tricks, and filth combined—
Even “geniuses” mislead the blind.
Not just years, but generations—
This flood of crap repeats its nations.

It’s on repeat, the crushing weight—
That’s how they kill, that’s how they bait.



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Lies repeat, the filth returns—
In their trap, the spirit burns.



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Tedious Suicide

Poets kill themselves —
Their souls still sing inside.
Such chances come —
Unnumbered, far and wide.

Suicide is dreadful,
But life’s worse still.
To speak between the stumps—
Is that your will?

I don’t care — I speak aloud,
Though life winds to its end.
Will I break free?
Fate curses every friend.




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Goals and Outcomes

Souls destroyed—the goal of rule,
Slaves remain, the system’s tool.
Chains of lies bind all the blind,
No escape for twisted mind.

If the mind is warped and cold,
Only flesh has truth to hold.
In this hell that’s dark and real,
Fate is harsh—no chance to heal.

Soulless masses fill the space,
God is gone, no saving grace.
End is near, a new abyss—
Low and dark, a final kiss.

This hell comes, Earth won’t survive,
Slaves reject the Spirit’s drive.
Soon we’ll face the heavy fall—
Waiting now for doom to call.



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Souls crushed, lies bind the blind—
No escape for broken mind.



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The Mark of Fiends

All around is rotting death... What steps remain?
No steps at all — just flee the shame!
The fiends’ loud slogan: “Fools, beware!”
So dull it is — pour venom there!

Flee the shame, abandon disgrace:
The cursed fiends infest this place!
Lift up your poisoned gaze above—
Eons of fools trapped in false love!

So clear to see — it’s all a lie,
But fight with life, or let it die!
If sacrifice is not your way—
You carry fiends’ mark day by day.



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Rot surrounds — no steps to take,
Fiends' false words — a venomed fake.



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Death Will Calm

Having walked through Hell,
Don’t believe, don’t think—
You’re not a fiend—
Die without a blink!

Had enough of all?—
Then die with grace!
Drop the whining—
Death calms the race...



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Through Hell’s deep flame,
Die proud, no shame.