Khutor
A khutor (Russian: ху́тор) or khutir (Ukrainian: ху́тiр, khutir, pl. ху́тори, khutory) is a type of rural locality in some countries of Eastern Europe; in the past the term mostly referred to a single-homestead settlement.
They existed in Cossack-settled lands that encompassed today's Ukraine, Kuban, and the lower Don river basin while in Kuban and Don region the word khutor was also used to describe new settlements (irrespective of the number of homesteads) which had detached themselves from stanitsas. In some Cossack communities in Russia, these types of settlements were referred to as posyólok. In Russia the term "выселки" (vyselki, literally, "those who moved away") was also used. To this day, khutor remains the official designation of many Russian villages in these regions.
During the Stolypin reforms in Russia, Peter Stolypin envisaged rich peasants "privatising" their share of the community (obshchina) lands, leaving the obshchinas, and settling in khutors on their now individually owned land. A less radical concept was that of an otrub (отруб): a section of formerly obshchina land, whose owner has left the obshchina but still continued to live in the village and to "commute" to his land. By 1910 the share of khutors and otrubs among all rural households in the European part of Russia was estimated at 10.5%. These were practically eliminated during the collectivisation in the USSR.
Carving Out The Eyes Of God
Bastards of madness
Call out this prayer of vengeance
Speaking to enemies through these wounds of redemption
Tearing out their eyes with horror
Behold this chosen new devise
As the silence pleads this forgiveness
A senseless begging for absolution
Upon this entrance into oblivion
This fallen angel of defiance, destitute to isolation
Hold tight to liberation, in the form of reprisal
Project of this restored frame, in these pain filled alterations
This new threat of changing life restless in this completion
Powerless you crawl like pigs
Soon to be slaughtered
Suckling to a faith that you avidly hoped would save you all
These offerings will bring us our justice.
For these years of diluted lies
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
These hands held into the sky so the dark
Winds can taste the blood of murder
As the blackest hearts obey thoughts of evil
Deathlorn rites, endure the lust for revenge
Surrender the state of embracement and release
This life from the dark interiors
Discomfort of this assisted torment is given in these regards
A scourge of awakening
Prisoned in the rites of blood
Bestowed with ancient plagues, we will forge a disease
Of rape upon your ideals
Within this lifeblood we will find the truths as blades
Slice open their necks
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
Once reconstructed the swarm will digest
The souls of this imperfection
Sterilizing faith bringer has discharged
This assembly of this damnation
Burden me with your weak
Curse me with your sick
In blood filled walls I lie confined
