Victor Shepelev 🇺🇦
LightNews LightNews
banner
zverok.bsky.social
Victor Shepelev 🇺🇦
@zverok.bsky.social
310 followers 68 following 380 posts
aka zverok.
Ruby core team / Ukrainian Armed Forces
Програміст, письменник, типу офіцер.
https://zverok.space/
Posts Replies Media Videos
zverok.bsky.social
I googled the guy, he is... special.
joel.id/resume/
This looks like a joke/AI-generated fake resume (30 yrs of experience?.. CTO of blockchain startup, drone hardware developer IN KYIV?..), but his digital footprint strongly corroborates it.
Reddit, 18 (sic) yrs ago, on him dropping some idea:
November 24, 2025 at 7:54 PM
zverok.bsky.social
I once had an extremely quick-witted one.
November 23, 2025 at 6:34 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Щороку цього дня я пощу вірш, який моя дружина, Ірина Скачко, написала у 2021-му.
Яблуко з Єгипту хурма молоко слоїк із медом діти просили піцу «кур’єр у дорозі» на порозі холодна синя година на вікні тьмяна плямка свічі йди на мій вогник примарна голодна дитино на відбиток у віконному склі невідомих харчів їж їж не кричи
November 22, 2025 at 10:33 AM
zverok.bsky.social
Some OSINTers claim they know the weapon that did it 🤔
October 24, 2025 at 2:49 PM
zverok.bsky.social
The last naturally looking post on this account, or reply from it, was back in 2023. I don't know which possibility is funnier:
1. it was always fake
2. it was stolen
3. it was willingly given as an ad board
4. this is real Matz using Bsky as a side hustle

("my GitHub sponsor" implies (4) but IDK)
September 26, 2025 at 5:46 AM
zverok.bsky.social
I had a pretty close phrasing at the end of my spellchecker study (in 2021, before the LLM became widespread, so it was about ML in general): zverok.space/blog/2021-05...
A lot of things have changed since, but I still like to think about what ML has as "experience" (not even "knowledge")
July 20, 2025 at 9:26 AM
zverok.bsky.social
God, am I tired of the Western ability to ignore we exist at all.
Because for a good argument on war, there is no need to mention the biggest war in Europe since WWII.
Also, it is OK to reframe (again!) the imperialistic authoritarian Soviet Union who started WWII together with Hitler thus.
July 2, 2025 at 12:13 PM
zverok.bsky.social
I mean... I subscribed to several dozens of users, but mine looks like this.

The standard FOAF-type feed (FriendFeed, old FB, pre-Musk Twitter) is "all my subscriptions and everything they liked/commented".
Then throw in some controls ("no, not likes of this one").
June 30, 2025 at 9:04 AM
zverok.bsky.social
Basically, this picture.
June 29, 2025 at 4:18 PM
zverok.bsky.social
sometimes journalists write to me, mostly, female ones, asking for an interview, for me to tell them about the woman’s role in war, about being a woman in a men’s environment, about being, or not being, a decoration, an inspiration, a stimulus, and so on. press hounds and press puppies write to me, asking for a comment or an interview, but I decline, I have nothing to say, for I don’t know: what is it like to be a woman at war? “what the hell is she babbling about? — they are outraged. — she has breasts, delicate wrists, and a waist narrowing so brazenly above round hips. she has a vagina and a womb, after all.” of course, a standard set of a female parts is always with me: at war, at rear, in a mess hall, in forests large and small, in a car, in a half-ruined house, in another’s eye, from Luhansk to Zakarpattia (haven’t been farther for a long time but I am sure they would be there with me). yet I can assure you, I don’t know: how to be a woman or a decoration at war? they ask again: “how could that be? you are a woman, and you are at war. everything clicks and matches. so why would you contradict? do you want to be paid for an answer? are you evading fame? or is there some other reason we can’t imagine?” I would have told you what it’s like to be a woman at war, if I were a woman at war. but no: at war I am a genderless creature. of course my female characteristics don’t go anywhere don’t vanish don’t get erased: breasts, waist, hips, even a vagina and a womb — I assure you, everything is on me and with me but it doesn’t stop me from being a genderless creature at war. my call sign is “Boss”, I answer to “friend” or “brother”, I swear as the situation requires, I crack black jokes, I use male underwear (for some reason, female is thinner and colder) sometimes I smoke cigars and drink whiskey to let my mind go and let my body relax. I don’t flirt, don’t ogle, I have no manicure, no eyelash extensions, no eyeliner: instead of a makeup bag, my backpack carries a first aid kit, a probe, and a multitool. of course, I have less physical strength, feet almost child-sized, the smallest uniform, the lightest backpack, but no one can say that I have less knowledge, fewer skills, less respect, or fewer enemy kills. so excuse me, dear media representatives, I know how to be a woman in relatively peaceful times, how to use makeup and wear jewelry, put on sleek dresses and business suits, walk on heels and in ballet flats, choose a hairstyle and a new perfume... but I assure you: I have no idea how to be a woman at war how to survive the losses, as every loss survives me — a genderless creature at war.
June 29, 2025 at 4:06 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
I would have told you what it’s like to be a woman at war, if I were a woman at war. but no: at war I am a genderless creature. of course my female characteristics don’t go anywhere don’t vanish don’t get erased: breasts, waist, hips, even a vagina and a womb — I assure you, everything is on me and with me but it doesn’t stop me from being a genderless creature at war.
June 29, 2025 at 4:06 PM
zverok.bsky.social
April trees, chopped by artillery, reach for the sky with broken branches, bringing gifts of delicate white blossoms. on both sides, dried-up pikes of primordial steppes are sleeping, “beware of mines” sheepishly inform — in such faded, bloody letters that my eyes are hurting to stare — delicate white tables of the steppe. take a rest in the peace that fell on your breast, in the paralysis piled on your shoulders, deeply plowed giants, even the artillery roar doesn’t dare to disturb your dreams, this year you will yield only explosives. like frozen stiff soldiers emerge from the fog years-old sunflowers: “we salute you! friendly.” we nod in response. predatory birdfolk reluctantly grant us passage to their kingdom: “how dare you disturb our mating dances, our spring courtship, our calm sunrises?” in a thick bush instead of swift-footed hares hide-and-seek is played by people in speckled camouflage. ashes of the meadows are like grey temples, black bodies of charred grass lie there, mute witnesses to unpunished crimes. hundredfold-cursed roads welcome us with craters and holes: “this is how we make you notice a sudden spring.” crippled poplars are covered with green, shy like a young girl’s breast. a beheaded forest has dressed itself in the nicest flowers. but who are here to show off for? who will stop to admire it in these, forgotten by God but not by enemy’s artillery, lands?
June 28, 2025 at 5:04 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
“beware of mines” sheepishly inform — in such faded, bloody letters that my eyes are hurting to stare — delicate white tables of the steppe.
June 28, 2025 at 5:04 PM
zverok.bsky.social
he blessed me with such a love that no bullet hits me, no shard pierces me, aerial bombs and kamikaze drones avoid me, as do black-mouthed people, treacherous creatures, gods both merciless and merciful. he blessed me with such an admiration that I fit in the worlds of the living and the dead alike. all curses upon me are erased, all sins forgotten, all offenses forgiven, old wounds have healed, and new ones, and future ones. he blessed me with his tenderness, so no garden rustles, no wind laughs, no river would leave its bed to steal my dreams, one-eyed violets wake up and kiss my hands. he blessed me with such a passion, that no evil eye can hex me, devil’s fingers won’t catch me, no black cat would cross my path, no mirror would break, no tear would fall, the heart wouldn’t hurt. he blessed me with his light, brought out of the darkness, he says: “truly” and kisses me
June 27, 2025 at 2:37 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
he blessed me with such an admiration that I fit in the worlds of the living and the dead alike. all curses upon me are erased, all sins forgotten, all offenses forgiven, old wounds have healed, and new ones, and future ones.
June 27, 2025 at 2:37 PM
zverok.bsky.social
how many feelings are kept in railroad tracks asphalt roads unseen pandora’s boxes don’t touch them don’t touch or else my sadness will swallow this world and you don’t touch them I am coming to you with the light of blue daisies so tender you can only look or otherwise it will die or I? better take mallows those roadside cyclops strong like your nerves they throw stones of their otherness right at the place where there should’ve been a heart yours or mine? if cut or pulled — will they scream? will they take root in nowhere looking for soil? or will they crumble like a scales of an old sun that no longer shines? for the world or for us? you know how it is — to become a silent wreck by the roadside that sees everything but calls to no one no one
June 26, 2025 at 6:40 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
how many feelings are kept in railroad tracks asphalt roads unseen pandora’s boxes don’t touch them don’t touch or else my sadness will swallow this world and you
June 26, 2025 at 6:40 PM
zverok.bsky.social
is not an eye for an eye, not a tooth for a tooth, not a hand for a hand, not a leg for a leg, not a life for a life.” “you see, how can I explain this? — my closest friend muses again. — our goal is total liquidation of the enemy, cold and methodical liquidation, so there’s no one left willing to raise their weapons against us, no matter whether the war ends tomorrow, in a year, or drags on further, by us, with us, without us, and after us.”
June 25, 2025 at 4:11 PM
zverok.bsky.social
👇
“there is no justice”, — my closest friend said once. “if it is really so, I want to imagine it, I want to invent it, I want to create it.” “justice is a myth”, — my closest friend continues. “but I want an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, a leg for a leg, a life for a life.” “but this is called revenge, my closest friend says then. — it has existed since the beginning of time, it is for the strong, the powerful, the cunning, sometimes the vile. but most of the time it has nothing in common with what you want to imagine, invent, or create.” “let it then be called revenge, — I say to my closest friend, — as I want an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, a leg for a leg, a life for a life.” “but revenge is too strong an emotion, — my closest friend continues. — it burns everyone out: the strong, the powerful, the cunning, even the vile. revenge is a sprint, a hundred-meter dash, a push, but we have a marathon. it is an extremely long and exhausting marathon, so revenge will burn you out, drain you, and crush you like the heaviest of burdens.” “don’t think I suggest we shouldn’t eliminate the enemy, — expands his though my closest friend. — we must remember we must not forget we must create such a collective memory for everything we survive, from the beginning of times to this very day, of everything the enemy has done to us, of everything that will never be born, rise, sprout, ripen, so that or children, grandchildren, and their descendants know even in the womb who is our enemy, and that it never sleeps, listen, it never sleeps! it sharpens its claws for us, prepares its teeth for us, waits for the right moment to strike.” “memory is our fuel, — my closest friend says, looking into my eyes, — memory is our food and our sustenance, it is our oxygen. memory, not revenge hot, boiling, the blackest of black tars. do you hear? we should have good memory and a cold mind, precise calculation and deliberate thought, so when the moment comes, we use the opportunity. the war, my birdie, is not forever, one way or the other, and the right moment may wait for us in a year, or ten, or forty (if we live this long), and so to destroy the enemy, do you hear, to keep destroying the enemy through our entire lives we need a cold mind and a good memory.” “revenge is too small a word for what must be done to the enemy, — continues his thought my closest friend. — revenge has an end, you did it — you burned — you calmed down, but our story will have no end, not as long as we are alive. as our path is virtually never-ending: our goal
June 25, 2025 at 4:11 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
“revenge is too small a word for what must be done to the enemy, — continues his thought my closest friend. — revenge has an end, you did it — you burned — you calmed down, but our story will have no end, not as long as we are alive. as our path is virtually never-ending: our goal is not an eye for an eye, not a tooth for a tooth, not a hand for a hand, not a leg for a leg, not a life for a life.”
June 25, 2025 at 4:11 PM
zverok.bsky.social
I play with death like with a little kitten for what is this life worth? I loved/I didn’t running away falling silent I found I buried breath in/breath out I wanted to become a blank slate but became an empty one write/draw/crumple no sense no content no life imitation one more word like a belch of a distant civilization whose descendants by old habit and a sustained custom would support a tyrant but they are ashamed to what would the world say? imitation. a parody on something a following a forgery an ersatz a surrogate a copy of life I became adult enough to learn how to live alone in complete darkness even when there is light I became adult enough to befriend the boogeyman and not be afraid to sleep with my feet uncovered — let it grab I became adult enough to play with death like with a little kitten: let it strike let it snipe let it stop loving. a roulette with an adjective starting with “r” disgusting to say but the world should know and hear and hear and hear every day every hour every second the name of the murderer but there is always a but when you are an empty slate an empty crumpled slate played with by a little kitten you don’t want to say the murderer’s name for it is like letting him under your skin and living through again and again and again the death of your loved ones and yet you make yourself bleed and write with that blood on yourself your empty self words starting with "r": russia russian russians read it dear world read what is written on me — on an empty slate which is played with by a kitten or death
June 24, 2025 at 3:51 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
and yet you make yourself bleed and write with that blood on yourself your empty self words starting with "r": russia russian russians
June 24, 2025 at 3:51 PM
zverok.bsky.social
a bird in a field on a lonely branch, on the thin grass chirps sonorously. the sky has leaned in to listen. the grass is rustled by the wind. the bird is rustled by the wind. and I am. it feels like the distance is not in space, but somewhere else, far away. and something missing slips through the tough days, something lost, dropped... who knows if you’ll ever get it back? it feels like my palm is touching the wind, and the wind is touching your palm. and this bond is not in the distance. this bond is inside. do you feel? is it trembling? or wind? we are always and forever bonded as much as we are apart. time is a teacher and we are its students. could it be any other way? could it? I don’t know. don’t know... the bird in a field on a lonely branch, chirping sonorously on the thin grass. time has stopped to listen. but cover me with your wing give me the cover of your wing. until the grass is rustled by the wind. the bird is rustled by the wind. and I am.
June 23, 2025 at 3:55 PM
zverok.bsky.social
Eva Tur
Armed Forces of Ukraine

#7uapoems

#poetry #ukrainian

full poem below 👇
the bird in a field on a lonely branch, chirping sonorously on the thin grass. time has stopped to listen. but cover me with your wing give me the cover of your wing. until the grass is rustled by the wind. the bird is rustled by the wind. and I am.
June 23, 2025 at 3:55 PM
zverok.bsky.social
June 20, 2025 at 7:03 PM