25 poems

Up Shit's Creek

Up Shit's Creek the world is dreary,
Cold and rotten, bleak and weary.
There's your flat and there's your trade
For the fools and freaks they've made.

Few are left who aren't deformed,
So the Earth has been transformed.
I despise the crawling vermin—
Life beneath them is determined.

Yet my fear begins to fade:
Doom won't keep us long delayed.
Sunlight burns a little stronger,
While the world grows worse and wronger.

Day by day it's meaner, duller,
Chasing "Happiness"—no fuller—
Crawling to it on its knees.
Spirit, pardon such disease!

Sweep the filth from every street!
Save the ones who won't retreat.
Evil circles, ages turn—
Still a few refuse to burn.

Mind and Spirit, standing fast
While the vulgar demons last.
Stop your struggles with the show—
Madness is the world below.

Only inward lies the Real,
Only there the Light I feel.
All old threats are worn and hollow—
Now the harvest comes to follow:

Vegetable next to vegetable,
Marching Hellward, interchangeable.
If you're not one of the swine,
Seek the Source, the truth divine.

Leave this Hellhole, dark and deep—
Climb out of this Shit's Creek.



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In the Pit

The world's back end is bleak and bare;
My home and work are hidden there.
A realm for fools and twisted minds,
For crawling beasts of every kind.
The decent few are hard to find—
No wonder Earth has gone blind.

How I loathe the vermin swarm!
They make existence dull and worn.
Yet fear grows weaker day by day:
The final crash is on its way.
The sunlight burns with fiercer glow,
While evil drags the world below.

Each day it's meaner, duller still,
Yet madness justifies its will:
It calls its cravings "joy" and "light"
And crawls on knees toward its delight.
Forgive us, Spirit! We must rise
And sweep corruption from our eyes.

Save the spark that darkness spares,
The single flame still burning there.
Evil circles, round and round,
But Mind and Soul remain unbound
Among the servants Hell has bred,
Among the living, walking dead.

Stop wasting strength on outward strife—
The world's a fever-dream of life.
Within alone are Truth and Light;
There shines the beacon through the night.
The threats are relics, empty noise,
Old illusions, broken toys.

Now comes the harvest of decay:
One vegetable leads the way
To yet another newborn Hell.
If you're no fiend beneath the spell,
Then seek the Source, the primal Hope,
And leave behind Hell's filthy hole.



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The “Growth” and Stench of Fascist Rule

The regime “blooms.”
The idiot fumes,
Waiting for the stench to rise—
Then the media sprays the flies.

The freak cries out,
Swallowing doubt.
One answer still remains in sight,
One answer to the regime:

“NO!!!”



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East Lies, West Lies

East lies, and West lies too—
Everywhere the lies accrue.
This poor world’s a dumping bog,
Man’s a slave to darkened fog.

Blind in ignorance, he crawls,
While the Horned God rules and lords.
Cruel the master, bleak the lot—
Truth is buried, fear is taught.



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Gargoyles Bent, or Flags Afloat?

Were gargoyles bent low,
Or did the banners flow?
We drowned in fear and lies—
And “Ideas” were the worst disguise.



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Proud in Battle Formation

Proud in ranks, they march in line,
While their minds are crushed like mine.
So oppressed, the mind must call:
“Hey! Is anybody there at all?”

Echo answers from the hole—
There, they’ve buried mind and soul.
Brains in burrows: that’s the law;
Fools bow down to fear and awe.

The mob is bent by savage lies;
Down the slope their little world flies.
But who the hell cares where it goes?
The main thing is—the profit grows!



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Pull Something Else from Your Pants...

“I pull something from my pants...”
— V. Mayakovsky


A passport for a fool in hand:
You get it—and you're at command.
Bend your back and haul the pack,
Work till death, and don't look back.

Then comes the filthy Ausweis:
For the vermin, you're a device.
A number, stamped and classified—
A useful thing, then cast aside.



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“A Worthy Mayor!”

“A worthy mayor!”
What an absurd fantasy!
“Put the wise in the presidency!”
And other grand decrees:

“Send decent men to Parliament!”
“Track every budget cent!”
“Make every thief repent!”
Oh, what a torrent of nonsense—
Yet not a trace of it exists
In the world beyond the rhetoric.

“Make all the crooks stand trial!”
Why, that sounds like the old Soviet style—
A paradise of noise and guile,
Where bullshit travels every mile.

From every screen and every press,
The sewage pours in endless streams;
It floods the minds of fools and drones,
And feeds them counterfeit dreams.

Nothing changes fools, it seems:
They swallow nonsense, serve the schemes,
While dreaming of their daily bread,
Of something warm, of something ahead.

This little world is foul indeed:
The mind is unplugged, the Spirit bleeds.
And everywhere, from end to end,
A freight-train load of shit is sent.



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The Only Theme

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
Money rules the whole damn pit.
From outside, deep within—
Only “No” is found therein.

Do not lie,
Do not betray.
Seek the Real,
Seek the Light,
Save yourself,
And find your way.

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
Light is worthless in the pit.
Shit becomes a waking dream—
Nightmare reigns supreme.

It drives the Spirit out,
Puts the mind to sleep, no doubt,
Bends the brain to mindless chew—
Same old crap, again and through.

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
Reality has lost its grip.
Nothing new is allowed to grow—
Praise the ugliness they show.

Ugliness from wall to wall,
People crawling like a louse.
“Leave me be! Don't touch me!”—
That's the creed within this house.

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
“Caring” fills the place a bit.
CowID—what a shining pearl!
Till it reaches every throat.

At the Bottom, war is gold.
Always bought, and always sold.
Stupid rabble, trust the chief!
Follow orders, mock belief!

They will drive you into war,
While the media screams some more.
Death in crowds? Well, that's just fine—
“Better them than you or mine.”

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
Staying sane is quite a feat.
But the Light is not without—
Let the vermin scream and shout.

Let them lie and spread their rot;
Build a wall around your thought.
Save your Mind and Spirit still:
Send the lies straight where they will.

Send away the nagging noise,
Fear that poisons, empty voice.
That is your task—so multiply
Every effort, do or die.

Cast this rotten world away!
Take yourself back, day by day.
Then, within the madhouse gloom,
Find the door and leave the tomb.

In the Darkness minds are blind;
We are lost in noise and grind.
Worse than plague, the deepest curse:
To be blind when Light is near.

Blind to Light, the world looks mad;
At the Bottom, all is bad.
This whole world—a shadowed crypt,
Where lies are bread and truth is stripped.

At the Bottom, in the Shit,
Only one bright ray is fit.
Follow that ray to the Source—
Though the clouds obscure its course.

Rise along that slender beam,
Find the Key to Soul and Dream!
Pay the price—and then be gone,
Fly beyond the dusk of dawn...

Pay it all, to everyone—
Then the themes are finally done.
Nothing left to add or say.
Only Light. And walk away.



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The Greedy “Paradise”

Drink yourself completely flat,
Give your brains a little “upgrade” at that.
If you bought a car in Bedlam—what a catch!
Find your hidden stash and spend the batch.

Keep it going, day by day—
That’s how human trash gets made:
A half-human, greedy “paradise,”
Where empty heads call crap “a life so nice.”



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Pussy Near, Oak Far Away

The pussy's near,
The oak's away.
All things considered—
Not bad today.

A poet's life
In some backwater place:
Less bullshit to swallow,
More sorrow to face.



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Sea Kitties

Sea kitties, bold and bright—
“Brave” as fools who cannot fight.
Common pussycats, calm and wise,
Used to seeing through disguise.

They'd beat the seals by far—
No flinching, no deceit, no fear.
When Truth comes staring eye to eye,
They don't bullshit. They don't lie.



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Born in Shit

A cutlet on the plate,
A vodka glass awaits.
If you were born in shit,
A shabby life won’t grate.



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Masters of Fear and Whores of Propaganda

Master of Fear, magician grim,
The gallows-world is known to him.
To fools he feeds absurdities
With such a flair and such great ease—

As pissing down two fingers wide:
No skill, no thought, no need to hide.
A frightened world, a false idol,
Its “comfort” in the Dark eternal.

The free cheese rots on every plate;
Fear is the finest tool of state.
To leave the mind with one command:
“Survive!”—and nothing else at hand.

A couple of fake ideas,
A handful more to feed the fears.
Some “ideas” drive the fools insane;
The Dark has plenty who remain—

The whores who serve the one design:
Turn human beings into swine.
And make it happen FAST—indeed:
CowID showed how to do the deed.

The Wizard rose, with every trick,
From fear-mongering—Master quick.



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The Slave’s Collar and the World’s Sewer

The fool won’t wait—
Darkness dictates
And pulls the leash
Toward the great sewage.

The mind, once prized,
Is now devised
As a collar tight
Around the soul’s plight.

Hurry—wake up!
Look at this Hell.
Understand it well,
And break the spell.

See what you are,
See where they lead.
Know this abyss—
And don’t become shit.



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To Hell with Believing

To hell with believing and blindly obeying,
Chasing “happiness” where fools keep decaying.
Keep running that road, and one day you may find
You’re waking in Hell with your eyes open wide.




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The Reality of Shit

A mirage called “real”—
In Lies, this world has lost its feel.
A shabby little world of fear,
Where cheese and mousetraps both appear.

A lure, a shiny little bait,
A brand-new trinket at the gate.
“Great ideas”? Just empty crap—
Soul-crushing schemes inside the trap.

Play the march! Let trumpets roar!
We feast on vermin by the score.
The Earth’s become a prison pit—
A REAL OF SHIT.



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The Gray Mass

Gray mass, gray haze—
Slave labor, cash,
Lies for a gloss—
A biomass of evil.



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The Gray Mass

Gray mass, gray class—
Slave labor, cash,
Lies as a mask—
Evil’s biomass.



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Salvation in Shit

He went to Nepal—
And vanished without a trail.
Not mountains, but the pit:
What saves you? — Shit!



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Assholes Like Plugs

Assholes like plugs,
Dumb, smug little thugs.
Those bastards exhaust—
They’re nauseating, not lost.



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A Shameful Fucking World

A fucking world of shame and blame,
Where noble beginnings end in flame.
Filth comes roaring, full of spite,
While lies and fear infest the night.



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Assholes as Obstacles

Assholes stand like walls of stone,
A mass of damage, flesh and bone.
They drain your nerves, they drain your will—
A fucking idiot’s worse than ill.

A fat ass blocks the office chair,
While two rear exits wait down there:
One mouth to enter, one ass to leave—
The chair’s a throne for fools who grieve.

Propaganda ghouls all thrive,
Feeding the lie to keep it alive.
No dawn can pierce this endless gloom—
No sunrise shines through piles of doom.



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The Officials’ Gang, or the Many-Headed Hydra

Semyon is strong—
He seized the throne:
With nonsense for law,
He rules from his own.

Above him stands
A demon god,
And Panteley—
More cruel, more odd.

But Frol is worse,
For he commands;
Through bribes he thrives,
And climbs the ranks.

He carries gifts
Up to the top,
And waits for some
High chiefdom’s lot.

In Darkness, heads
Are never few—
A demon Hydra,
Black and cruel.

A howling pack
Of Evil’s brood,
Spreads strife and ruin,
Feasts on thought.

Darkness attacks
The human mind—
A Hell of fools,
Of souls confined.

Amid the shit
The soulless clerks
Turn every sane
Man into wrecks.

A prison cell,
A beggar’s fate,
Awaits the wise
Who dare to state

A single thought.
The rabble’s aim:
Turn all mankind
To obedient game.

Then crush them all—
That is the plan.
The Hydra’s heads
Devour the man.

The officials’ gang
Plays the chief role;
The Digital Camp
Awaits the whole.

They’ll herd the cattle,
Drive them in—
Just wait a little
In this grim

And wretched world,
Beneath the yoke:
Endure the evil,
Chew and choke...



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The Bureaucrat

Semyon is strong—
He grabbed the chair:
Nonsense is law,
And fools obey there.

Above him—a fiend,
And Panteley:
The higher he climbs,
The worse he’ll be.