Stormfront poetry

We are free
of your propaganda history.
Your nonstop attacks
on White humanity
are a travesty.

We are free
of your degenerate
democracy and the tyrannical
grip of legal intricacies.

We are free
of your corrupt morality
and phony religiosity
requiring our rape and displacement.

We are free
of any loyalty
to your enslaving military
or your do-nothing police
who stand by and watch
us bleed.

We are free of our
traitor families. Only
women and children
who honor their ancestry
will earn our sanctuary.

We have never been so free.
White Revolution will smash
your genocidal conspiracy.

Well, in two-thousand and eight we took a little trip
along with Minuite Men down the mighty rio grande.
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans,
And we caught the dirty mexicans near the town of El passo.

We fired our guns and the brownies kept a'comin.
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
down the reo Grande back to Mexico.

We fired our legally owned guns and the brownies kept a'comin.
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
down the Rio Grande back to Mexico.

Well, we looked down the river and we see'd the Browns come,
and there must have been a hundred of 'em beatin' on their wives.
They creeped so low and they made us aim low
while we stood by our legal guns and didn't say a thing.

Old Metzger said we could take 'em by surprise
if we didn't fire our ARs til we looked 'em in the eyes.
We held our fire til we see'd their faces well,
then we opened up with Ar's and really gave em hell.

We fired our legally owned guns and the brownies kept a'comin.
There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin'
down the Rio grande back to Mexico.

If this isn't satire it's pukeworthy, if it's satire, go submit it for your junior school poetry competition

Reminder that fascism and nationalism produced the greatest poets of the 20th century while progressives gave us slam poetry and Toni Morrison

Pity the nation , whose people are sheep and whose shepards mislead them.
Pity the nation wose leaders are liars , whose sages are silenced , and whose bigots haunt the airways.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice, except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as a hero , and aims to rule the nation with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language or culture that is not its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money and it sleeps the sleep of the well fed.
Pity the nation---Oh, pity the people who allow their rights to shrink and erode, who stand by and watch their freedom washed away.
My country , tears of thee, sweet land of liberty

Fuck your nationalism. Global nation-state-less totalitarianism now!

Fuck off my board, you faggot
Your existence is as bad as Bob Saget
You're mad because of sex; you lack it

Go post on stormfront
While I fuck your mom in the cunt
Then I'll act the degenerate i.e roll a fucking blunt

And I roll it with my black friends
They don't ask for amends
They share whatever the plug sends

Little white boy, you think you're tough
Posting your hitler stuff
Nah, you're just limp-wristed fluff
You'd get fucked up rough
And I'd watch as I take a puff
This "white nationalism"? Enough.
Boy, I bet you can't even grow scruff.

Do you even lift at all?
Probably not, you're probably phyiscally small
That girl you stalk? I take her out to the mall
Fuck with me, and prepare to re-watch Downfall™

>legally owned guns
it's satire whether op knows it or not

You like to shout White Pride and that's alright
But when the goin' get's tough you have to stay and fight
Those aren't just words we're fightin' for
It's the future of our race that stirs the white man's roar

WHITE PRIDE - It will save us from disgrace

WHITE HONOR - The backbone of our race

WHITE FREEDOM - It's what the future has in store

WHITE POWER - We won't take this anymore

It's not out of hate, It's an act of love
Separation of the races was decreed by God above
It's a love for our children, a love for our kin
We can never stop fightin', not until we win!

WHITE PRIDE - It will save us from disgrace

WHITE HONOR - The backbone of our race

WHITE FREEDOM - It's what the future has in store

WHITE POWER - We won't take this anymore

So whether you're a Skin, in the Klan or a Rockwell man
Here's some words I hope you'll understand
WE MUST! WE WILL! WE CAN!

"White men" before Rome were living like shit
"White culture"? Romans invented it
when "white men" took Rome, it became a cesspit
When this is mentioned, you fags throw a hissyfit

Face it, the "white race" is fake
You think Pierre can relate to Sven and Blake?
Haven't you seen the wars "whites" make?
A history course is really what you need to take

You're just a buttmad whiteboy who can't get sex
I bet you've never received a girl's text
Talking to girls probably leaves you perplexed
Social interaction, for you, is complex
Your rhymes only prove that the cuckoo has the loudest pecks

the beige-skinned people of the post-race future are going to read this and have a good chuckle at the futility of it all.

Stop this.

My wife's son saw this and now is crying because he is black and not white.

SHAME ON (YOU).

hi bobby

Or the negrified judaized mulatto hybrids of the future will read this thread with deep melancholy knowing they are ugly abominations brought into this world by misguided, resentful utopianists, and their origin is bound up in dark kabbalistic evil. Likely, though, they will be too stupefied and gratified by Coca-Cola Extreme™ and Internet pornography to feel mystical emotions. Sad!

Now tell me this isn't satire.

>ezra pound
>among greatest poets of 20th century

wewwwwwwww lad

I was twenty-five years old, before I was kissed
And then I found that I preferred a swift one off the wrist
It isn't degenerate, you can't catch VD
It's available at any time and it's absolutely free

I've wanked down in Italy, I've wanked over Spain
I've wanked in an omnibus - I've even had a wank in a train
I've used a fleshlight, and a melon, and a cat
An inflatable waifu pillow and a bright red MAGA hat

We are shit
at writing poetry.
Our scribblings are simplistic, usually gay
but we'll fag up your board with it anyway

We'll shill in all your threads
with auto-update on.
We'll introduce our cancer
and pretend to be withdrawn.

If you disagree with us,
our tendies we will spit.
We'll type on our computer screens
and our memes we will emit.

We'll scream at you, "AD HOMINEM"
(though we don't know what that means)
and we'll attach a file that's full of bile
with our mom and daddy on speed dial.

And when you contradict our tripe,
we'll get upset and call you a kike.
We'll dance around the conversation
and bring up things with no relation.

And even after all of this,
the lying, the meming, the shilling, the piss,
we'll view ourselves as serious,
and demand you do the same.

It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late,
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.

They were not easily moved,
They were icy — willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.

Their voices were even and low.
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd.
It was not taught by the state.
No man spoke it aloud
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not suddently bred.
It will not swiftly abate.
Through the chilled years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the Saxon began to hate.

Take up the White Man’s burden—

Send forth the best ye breed—

Go send your sons to exile

To serve your captives' need

To wait in heavy harness

On fluttered folk and wild—

Your new-caught, sullen peoples,

Half devil and half child

Take up the White Man’s burden

In patience to abide

To veil the threat of terror

And check the show of pride;

By open speech and simple

An hundred times made plain

To seek another’s profit

And work another’s gain

Take up the White Man’s burden—

And reap his old reward:

The blame of those ye better

The hate of those ye guard—

The cry of hosts ye humour

(Ah slowly) to the light:

"Why brought ye us from bondage,

“Our loved Egyptian night?”

Take up the White Man’s burden-

Have done with childish days-

The lightly proffered laurel,

The easy, ungrudged praise.

Comes now, to search your manhood

Through all the thankless years,

Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom,

The judgment of your peers!

HWAET!

A dream came to me
at deep midnight
when humankind kept their beds
– the dream of dreams!
I shall declare it.

It seemed I saw the Tree itself
borne on the air, light wound about it,
– a beam of brightest wood, a beacon clad
in overlapping gold, glancing gems
fair at its foot, and five stones
set in a crux flashed from the crosstree.

Around angels of God
all gazed upon it,
since first fashioning fair.
It was not a felon's gallows,
for holy ghosts beheld it there,
and men on mould, and the whole Making shone for it
- Signum Victoria!

Stained and marred,
stricken with shame, I saw the glory-tree
shine out gaily, sheathed in yellow
decorous gold; and gemstones made
for their Maker's Tree a right mail-coat.

Yet through the masking gold I might perceive
what terrible sufferings were once sustained thereon:
it bled from the right side.
Ruth in the heart.

Afraid I saw that unstill brightness
change raiment and colour
– again clad in gold
or again slicked with sweat,
spangled with spilling blood.

Yet lying there a long while
I beheld, sorrowing, the Healer's Tree
till it seemed that I heard how it broke silence,
best of wood, and began to speak:

'Over that long remove my mind ranges
back to the holt where I was hewn down; from my own stem I was struck away,
dragged off by strong enemies,
wrought into a roadside scaffold.
They made me a hoist for wrongdoers.

The soldiers on their shoulders bore me,
until on a hill-top they set me up;
many enemies made me fast there.
Then I saw, marching toward me,
mankind's brave King;
He came to climb upon me.

I dared not break or bend aside
against God's will, though the ground itself
shook at my feet. Fast I stood,
who falling could have felled them all.

Almighty God ungirded Him,
eager to mount the gallows,
unafraid in the sight of many;
He would set free mankind.
I shook when His arms embraced me
but I durst not bow to ground,
stoop to Earth's surface.
Stand fast I must.

I was reared up, a rood.
I raised the great King,
liege lord of the heavens,
dared not lean from the true.

They drove me through with dark nails:
on me are the deep wounds manifest,
wide-mouthed hate-dents.
I durst not harm any of them.
How they mocked at us both!
I was all moist with blood
sprung from the Man's side
after He sent forth His soul.

Wry wierds a-many I underwent
up on that hill-top; saw the Lord of Hosts
stretched out stark. Darkness shrouded
the King's corse. Clouds wrapped
its clear shining. A shade went out
wan under cloud-pall. All creation wept,
keened the King's death. Christ was on the Cross.

But there quickly came from far
earls to the One there. All that I beheld;
had grown weak with grief,
yet with glad will bent then
meek to those men's hands,
yielded Almighty God.

They lifted Him down from the leaden pain,
left me, the commanders,
standing in a sweat of blood.
I was all wounded with shafts.

They straightened out His strained limbs,
stood at His body's head,
looked down on the Lord of Heaven
– for a while He lay there resting –
set to contrive Him a tomb
in the sight of the Tree of Death,
carved it of bright stone,
laid in it the Bringer of Victory,
spent from the great struggle.
They began to speak the grief-song,
sad in the sinking light,
then thought to set out homeward;
their hearts were sick to death,
their most high Prince
they left to rest there with scant retinue.

Yet we three, weeping, a good while
stood in that place after the song had gone up
from the captains' throats. Cold grew the corse,
fair soul-house.

They felled us all
We crashed to ground, cruel Wierd,
and they delved for us a deep pit.

The Lord's men learnt of it,
His friends found me. . .
it was they who girt me with gold and silver. . .

To every racist in this thread, I hope you're aware that you're not part of some subversive counter-cultural movement. You're not cool or interesting. I'm not saying you can't have these opinions, but please don't be under the illusion that you are working against the great machine. You're part of it.

lmao

that's only half-true, nationalism is counter-culture, most of /pol/ is nationalist

I wonder how many of those responses were "tl;dr"

Those is what libtards actually believe

Last part is legitimately good