Tuesday, 30 September 2008

The Dragon and the Darkness




















The Dragon And The Darkness.



This no longer England, this is the dragons lair,
The realm of abominations and perversions,
Where that foul beast we call freedom,
Wears its many tarnished crowns,
Its scales formed of polished iron plates,
Like those of the printing press,
Which crushes truth beneath its pages,
Sits in purple rags enthroned before,
Ranks of princes, bishops and lords,
Who jostle like whelps to suckle on its nipples,
Seeking the reeking black milk of its power,
And fighting over its ordure of jewels and gems,
And shiny polished peerages and medals,
Its sweats from every stinking pore,
Queuing to collect in their cups,
The steaming piss from its syphilitic cock,
A constant dribbling stream of molten gold,
That becomes the burden of all it owns.



Only the great and good gain entrance,
To the serpents pit and palace,
Where the beast resides and rules,
To be honoured with its blessings,
And rule as lords in this betrayed land,
For the open grave that we used to call
Our home, is now its hunting ground,
Where its servants reign as royalty,
Trading us as slaves in their markets,
Whilst they embrace the regalia of collaboration,
Which gains them status in the kingdom of lies,
Where treason gains the highest wage,
And black bayonets pierce the sky,
As symbols of our nations betrayal,
As a silent army marches forwards,
One birth at a time they begin the conquest,
Meeting only the forces of cowardice,
And the mush of perpetual capitulation,
Advancing without any resistance,
Across the streets and lowlands of Albion.



The dragon sits upon a nest of laws and lies,
Deep within the bowels of Parliament,
In a pit it scratched from poisoned earth,
Prepared long ago by gunpowder plotters,
Incubating a clutch of black eggs,
Warmed by hot air that wafts down from above,
The first is already hatching, the shell cracking,
It is the ticking time bomb of demographics,
Whose spawn is the grey wolf of war,
That forever watches the walls of Midgard,
Increasing in size and power every day,
The fetters on its jaws severed by traitors hands,
In the wind it wails and howls, thrice fold,
Demographics is destiny,
Demographics is destruction,
Demographics is death,
For its power grows exponentially,
As the West sleeps in dreams of the past,
The wolf prepares to devour the future,
For whilst we worship wealth and gold,
Its servants worship war and death,
And plot victory from our surrenders.



Every full moon the wyrm lays another egg,
Its feculent womb strains to give birth,
Bringing another new evil into this world,
The amnion etched with savage runes,
Its chorion, black as a ravens wing,
Sits amidst its brethren, silent seething,
First is Holy War, its spirit projecting
Stalks the world and raises storms,
Infecting the souls of men with ancient hatreds,
Mocking them with the books of blood,
It sets as snares for souls to trap,
Then comes Pollution, sinister she slips unseen,
Malevolent in her myriad nature,
Oil black and bleak as a dying ocean,
Her toxins gather in wombs, tainting infants
With poisons before they are even born,
And a myriad more fester as yet without names,
Awaiting their moments of revelation,
To crawl from their captivity, unleashing
Upon the world, that doom long foretold,
And usher in the coming age of chaos.



In the death sleep of desire we waste our days,
Dining on our delusions and dreams,
Haunted by the foul serpents phantoms,
That we revere above our own blood and bone,
Enticing us to surrender, all things we hold dear.
First amongst them is that whore Democracy,
Worshipped as a goddess in her yellow robes,
Her legs wide open, her cunt always wet,
For any fool that flatters her with fetishes,
And follows her dull creed of conformity.
Then comes Universal Brotherhood, that blind fool,
The most dangerous inner enemy of all,
Embracing lions and sleeping with snakes,
Opening the nation to all invaders,
Who gather and beg before our gates.
Liberty in chains, with heroin in her veins,
Surrenders her honour to all who ask,
Selling herself for pounds and pennies,
Grovelling in the gutter she glories in crime,
Flattering the rich, punishing the poor.
Then comes compassion in her white hair shirt,
Seeing only the good in all things,
Even the mosquito and the scorpions sting,
Adoring evil and sin in all its forms,
Vainly wearing her crown of thorns,
As a puffed up peacock struts its tail.
Peace is the prince of lies, waging wars around the world,
Calling chaos order and rapine liberation,
Turning every nation into a dying desert,
Making slaves of us all, sowing chaos
And the dark seeds of perpetual tyranny.
Then is Enterprise, who puts a price on all things,
Honour, freedom, treason, children and nations,
Transforming free citizens into mere chattels,
Selling its slaves in the market places of mammon,
Where everything is for sale and everyone is cheap.



Many are the demons that fools praise as gods,
In the gold and ivory temples of ignorance,
They feed them with the blood of abortions,
And the corpses of the living dead,
Those marked with the withered black veins of shame,
who rot whilst alive in our towns and cities.
Piling silver plates high with cruel offerings,
To win their praise and approval,
And the honour to act as catemites and harlots,
The insects swarm to fill their pockets,
Gaining the prize of baptising their children,
With the foul dregs of the whore bath,
That is their holy water of their masters.
With gold and oil, cocaine and religion,
They reward their willing courtesans,
Who in turn grow decadent and degenerate
In the shadow of their adorations,
Words sibilant and seductive slide from their lips,
And constant slither into any ears that may hear,
Dropping like worms from their tongues,
And entering nurseries and schools to infect
The young, making them into slaves
Sickening their souls, killing the spirit in its crib,
Before they can even think for themselves.



Generation after generation the dragon has waited,
Plotting its chaos and whispering calumnies,
Turning good into evil, beauty into ugliness,
Sin into success and treason into honour,
Felling the forests as it felled the future,
Poisoning the oceans as it poisoned hope,
Polluting the sky as it polluted the soul,
Making snarls of serpents into religions,
Lines of black ink upon the pages,
That strike and poison, deadly as a cobra,
Mocking the wise and flattering fools,
Crowning criminals and imprisoning liberty,
Everywhere its slaves plot treason and surrender,
They print their lies and call it truth,
Cloaking each deception in glamorous veils,
Until nothing remains except the perverse and profane,
And the crippling burden of our eternal shame.
Its legions grow ready, the battle begins,
And its monsters stir within their shells,
For they sense the sudden turning of the tide,
And feel something they have not felt before,
A sudden flicker of fear, for in the wild spaces,
Resistance grows to their rule, an uprising begins,
Rising as a snow drop in the first days of spring,
Fragile at first, then soon a mighty flood to drown,
That bloody ebb, and its portent of the future,
Unfurling as a black flag, flapping in the wind.








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1 comment:

Mr Potter said...

This a superb poem.

It illustrates how our Albion has been penetrated and corrupted by its enemies and how the soft and weakened polity of the people of Albion have allowed themslves to be enslavened by its foes.

A remarkable descriptive work by a true Warrior Wordsmith.