This poem was submitted to Amerikaner.org by The White. If you would like to submit your own content to Amerikaner, please email amerikanercontributions@proton.me
For many millennia have warred thine folk,
For captaincy of Earth they shed much blood,
Before pioneers did red men go like smoke,
Why do you reverse roles for vice’s flood?
Best are your forefathers, weak to flesh you,
Despair not, their blood yours and others’ few,
You are destined to do what they had done,
To stop thine holy quest, sin’s Satan’s gun.
Drugs, alcohol, food, sex, pornography,
That is the devil’s iconography!
Do you tolerate living with this unnatural weak soul?
Oh once master of continents, you noble race of beauty,
Crippled and enslaved by armies of passions,
Your race dies unless thine crimes you control!
Against weakness of flesh to battle is thine holy duty,
Let not ancestors bear the indignity of your fashions!
Pain is yours – in beauty or ugly fright?
Brother I know your temptation of night,
Our struggle is towards the holy light,
With it annihilate the foreign blight!
Curses to cowardice – supreme weakness!
Greatest killer of victory’s sweetness,
Phalanx, Legionnaire, Viking, Crusader,
Did they possess this trait of the traitor?
It is in your blood to raise yourself up,
Crucify the modern man from within,
Communion with God again from His cup,
Rediscover your ancient savage twin.