Then I was asking wind:
What for we have to suffer?
How monstrous were the sins
That robbed us of our succour?

What was the mighty curse
To drop us at the mercy
Of those who hate us most,
Who before reaper curtsy?

Are we of different flesh?
Are souls of ours not human?
The fates mean serving fresh
Distress use menu proven.

But silent was the sky
And wordless plains and great trees.
The wind did not tell why.
In fire spoke we our pleas.

Tonight's weather forecast for Mordor: blizzards of copium with a high chance of bavovna.

Clap your hands and clap alright -
Little fella haunts the oil tanks.
Flames at night burn much more bright.
How about some more of cute pranks?

Cotton, cotton, cotton, snap.
Fluffy, white, and prowls the airfields.
Fires like water tread all gaps
And the tiny red hell great yields.

Ivan thinks that ciggy bums
Go right there where one puts steps.
But the embers are the crumbs,
Airy feathers warm the cold depths.

There's no mirror for blue eyes.
Smoke trails fire, trails the wool paws.
Day is quiet, blaze is nigh -
One has fur that at the dry gnaws.

Bloody Mary curses loud.
Deadly words are those not uttered.
Matchsticks strewn on holy ground
And no soul took care of shutters.

Don't call god for cotton white
Walks the land and there's no water
Blessed by priest vile that just might
Put it back - it will not falter.

Sweet and cuddly, soft and pale,
Small feet tap and there's inferno.
Cotton flowers spring in scale -
Silent claws of wrath eternal.

Short one today.

Here is fleet and here is not.
Warships hang in dark, wet spot.
Boats upgrade to submarines,
Fish enjoy the new cuisine.

Babies quiet, babies cute -
Cruisers to the bed commute.
Moscow idles on the floor,
All ships lost in a land war.

Kotov was, now Kotov's not.
Second army lost its spot.
Some few drones now rule the seas
And the mighty sturgeons feed.

The line between the sky and forest
Green peaks is jagged and thawed like slushing ice
That roars in spring in mighty currents
And birds sing happy, mirthful flowers rise.

If fires storm the walls of havens,
Do gallows wait to hug one holding match?
The crown lacks not a head if raven
Black's left in home words talking on a branch.

The rain swaps sunshine, monsters - angels.
Those who go nobly never leave the streets
Paved grey and brave, washed off blood hateful.
The everlasting storms won't ever cease.

A jar of jam can be a cannon
Like blade of grass can be defiant shield.
It is not drought that brings a famine
And not the terror high that rules a field.

What arms deliver strife and butcher
Would never share warm favour of a day.
The distance is one breath of bullet
Between the freedom and the chains of slave.

The snail is also boundless eagle
When death's hiss sulphur mouths cold at the back.
It's not the showy, beating people
Afraid to be of - ones that nothing have.

When all's at stake, cat into lion
Each turns - hear - valleys roars engulf.
And grams of lead, and steel, and iron -
Small topple giants reaching, proud, and tough.

The festive season is upon us. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May those that stand for freedom and justice prevail and be victorious. May the heroes live in everlasting glory and may the world see the righteousness in their cause. And may those that stand to trample all the world under their feet go back to nothing like from nothing they came.

And if the year turns our eventful and unforgiving, just like 2024 did, there were 2 years between The Darkest Hour and The End of the Beginning.

Slava Ukraini!

Thank you everyone for your support. I see you when the 2025 clocks in.

We will watch when you die
For you laughed when did we.
One day pretty was sky,
Other - rockets we see.

Words besmirched, torn and lame
And the tongues soft like snake's.
We were never the same
Like black nightshade's - not grape.

We'll be here when you leave:
Legs below or legs first.
You have things to believe -
We have ours to assert.

Hands of blood rain does not
Touch and river's - away.
What you called - that you got,
Price on tag you will pay.

We will stand when you hang,
We will look when you go.
Did your worst you - we sang,
While you shrink, strong we grow.

We will live, you'll be gone
And the ages will hush:
You were big, now you're – none
Where groves viburnum blush.

One can't negotiate with demons of revenge
For window's closed the moment when the deed is done.
The retroactive conscience is a poor defence
And hope is quick, and fleeting, and for long time gone.

The justice that lives shunning mercy is the hell.
No limbo, heaven - where do sons of great land go?
The bloody mouths can't slip theirs, to the fate pale sell:
The red slips down the drain, the deaths do not - they show.

The spreadsheet has no cells to note down reasons there.
They've interest zero in the noble saviours, mean.
The forces dark are but much darker is one's share
And works of grand, good words are such no devil seen.

One can't outrun, they never from cold beds arise.
The world's one's oyster, place to hide - but there is none.
Ask silky clouds, each blade of grass has sharp steel eyes -
What's done is done, what has to be - too shall be done.