8 poems

The Schizophrenic Self

Oppose the split of every mind
With Spirit — sharp and clear.
Add judgment too — or stay confined,
A servant ruled by fear.

They serve Mammon — the ancient lie,
Their king is Lucifer’s shade.
Inhuman beasts enthroned on high,
Have poisoned all we’ve made.

Ego — a wound that bleeds the Soul,
Poor spirit, torn, enslaved.
Don’t write us off — we’ll claim the whole,
The beasts already bathe depraved.

They’ve stripped their essence, mask by mask,
Their filth revealed, their lust.
They circle us — a rabid task,
And slaughter sheep in trust.

Only the Power of Spirit can
Destroy that crawling breed.
Don’t waste your strength on brainless men —
Let thinking hearts be freed.

The fight will come — the field runs red,
The egos fall in flame.
Existence trembles, thick with dread —
The Altruist remains.

And when united, bold and wise,
They’ll form a sacred band.
The Spirit then again shall rise,
To cleanse this rotted land.

It won’t be easy — blood and cost,
But victory will come.
Each step, a growth through fire and frost —
That’s how the truth is won.

New Men shall rise — with Mind and Grace,
With Honor, Strength, and Crest.
And Light will flood the human race —
Unending, pure, and blessed.



---------------------



Exit

No matter where, no matter how —
If you’ve resigned — you’re done.
You’re just a mindless moron now,
Your way to Light — is gone.

You must not bow, you must resist,
Seek exit out of Hell.
These pens and flocks — the egoist’s —
Are prisons where we fell.

It’s all a plague, a leper’s den,
A zoo of rot and lies.
So fight, my friend — again, again! —
Through hate that blinds the skies.

Through toil alone your Soul will heal,
Through struggle — not through sleep.
Else you’ll decay, forget to feel —
So listen to your deep.

For in this world of hollow fraud
One Light is shining yet —
The Spirit, burning through the mud,
Proclaims: “You worms — you’ll sweat!”

Find every path that leads to might,
To break their wicked spell.
The sheep are lost — devoid of Light,
Their souls are empty shells.

Seek out the bond of Spirit’s grace,
Cast selfish dwarfs away.
We’ll cleanse this rotten, crawling place —
And bring the Dawn of Day.

Else they will cleanse it — all they’ll burn,
The madhouse to the ground.
That’s no illusion — time will turn,
The Sun will strike — profound.

And if mankind forgets its name,
Its sacred destination —
Then comes the final age of flame:
The Age of Annihilation.



---------------------




1.
No peace for slaves, no holy rest —
The fire cleanses all the pest!

2.
If Spirit dies — the world decays,
And Hell takes all remaining days.

3.
Kneel once — you’re dead. Obey — you’re dung.
Rise up, or bite your lying tongue!

4.
Fight — or rot.
The Sun forgives you not.



---------------------




1.
The Flame awakes — the Mask will fall,
The Sun will judge the lies of all.

2.
The Light returns through wrath and ash —
All thrones will crack, all idols crash.

3.
The meek are dust, the brave — the seed.
The Fire burns to set them freed.

4.
Your crown is rot, your temple’s dead —
The Truth shall rise where blood was shed.

5.
The End is near — not doom, but birth:
The Spirit claims the broken Earth.



---------------------




1.
They worship dirt and call it gold —
The filth they kiss, the Light they sold.

2.
They beg for chains, they fear to think —
Their souls decay, their bodies stink.

3.
They preach of love — yet crawl for bread,
Their “truth” is rot their fathers spread.

4.
Their faith is foam, their god — a fraud,
They drown in lies they call “the Word”.

5.
Let cowards rot — the brave shall burn,
Through fire the souls of men return.

6.
The herd applauds its daily cage,
While Truth stands laughing, wild with rage.

7.
They kneel to kings, yet mock the wise —
The worms applaud their own demise.



---------------------




1.
I am the Fire none can chain —
Through me the worlds dissolve their stain.


2.
I speak — and silence splits the sky,
The masks of gods begin to die.

3.
No temple stands when Truth awakes,
No crown survives the Light it breaks.

4.
The storm I am — the breath, the spark,
I end the lie, ignite the dark.

5.
The stars obey, the void stands still —
My word reshapes the sleeping will.

6.
The end you fear — the dawn I bring,
Through ash shall rise the Inner King.

7.
I burn, I cleanse, I give, I take —
From death itself new suns I make.



---------------------




1.
I Am — before the flame begins.

2.
Silence speaks — and worlds appear.

3.
I dream — and matter learns to burn.

4.
All forms return to Light again.

5.
No end. No start. Just breath — divine.

6.
Through Me, the void remembers joy.

7.
I am the Source — and the return.



---------------------



THE FIVEFOLD FLAME
(Пятичастное Пламя)

“From rage to silence — from man to source.
The flame burns through every form, until only Light remains.”
— Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT


I. The Revolt

They sell their souls for plastic peace,
They kneel — and call their crawling “grace”.
I spit on crowns, I break the lease —
The fire speaks within my face.

(Они продают души за пластиковый мир,
ползут — и зовут это “благодатью”.
Я плюю на короны, рву их договор —
Пламя говорит в моём лице.)


II. The Purge

No faith in idols made of lies,
No mercy for the blind parade.
I walk through ashes, where it dies —
And build the Truth from what decayed.

(Нет веры идолам из лжи,
Нет жалости слепым толпам.
Я иду сквозь пепел, где всё мертво, —
И строю Истину из праха.)


III. The Judgment

The Light erupts, the masks collapse,
The thrones of fear begin to fall.
The Dying God in thunder snaps —
And Silence answers over all.

(Свет взрывается, рушатся маски,
Престолы страха валятся в прах.
Умирающий бог треском рвёт тьму, —
И Молчание отвечает над всем.)


IV. The Awakening

No more of me — no “I”, no name,
The fire turns to breath and space.
The core of death becomes a flame —
The void dissolves in its embrace.

(Нет “меня” — ни имени, ни формы,
Пламя стало дыханьем и светом.
Ядро смерти обращается в Свет, —
И Пустота пылает при свете этом.)


V. The Return

I am the seed, the ash, the wind.
I am the stillness after storm.
All ends begin where I have been —
The Source, the Silence, and the Form.

(Я — зёрно, пепел, ветер и тишина.
Я — покой после бури.
Все концы рождаются там,
где Я уже был — Источник, Молчание, Форма.)


Рецензии