Меню сайта
Категории каталога
Сучасна українська література [18]
Світова література [15]
Світова художня література, поезія, маловідова в нашу добу
Михайль Семенко [191]
Поезії Езри Паунда в перекладі Андрія Волошина
Мечеслав Антон Рисич [0]
Smierc Polarstern [9]
Леся Українка [0]
Vasili Bakagias [12]
Vasili Bakagias Poetry
Наш опрос
Яка форма правління краща?
Всього відповіли: 714

Політологічний блог


Главная » Статьи » Література » Vasili Bakagias

In the Hour of Love's Demise
Lo and behold!
Love is landing on the shores
Of desolation and hopelessness,
With no one to greet Her.
Like a young girl about to undergo
Her first sexual experience, Love
Has experienced the chaos and 
Disorder that the White Race
Is currently going thru, and it is
As if Love was a victim of a rape
By a pedophile.
Love is undergoing changes in Her
Mentality, the same changes that
The White Race is going thru, 
Because the White Race has also
Had an experience which could be
Considered a rape: 
The voluntary and suicidal mixing
Of the genes of White People with
The genetic garbage of the dark races.
When the enemies of the White Race
Plotted to eradicate our noble and
Pure young progeny, they used every
Means necessary to get the job done,
And were ruthless and inhumane
In their attempts to pollute and 
Dilute the best among us.
In the years that followed the insidious
Deed, a lot of destruction and damage
Was done to the White human body
As a whole, and that was just the 
Beginning of the horror that had 
Befallen our People, a horror that
Was so monstrous in its scope
That the Enemy did not have to dirty
Its hands in its efforts to place 
Weapons of destruction in the midst
Of our White Race Soul: 
The White People were doing the 
Deed for the accursed destroyers
Of our beloved People.
In the time of the beginning of our
Demise, White People paid no heed
To the cancerous infusion that took
Place under our very noses, and
Little by little, the White Race became 
As dumb as a red brick, paying no 
Heed to the ever-growing malice that
Was growing like a sore on the body
Of an invalid, for the White Race was
Becoming as an invalid, oblivious and
Blind to the atrocities and evil that was
Taking place on a day-to-day basis, and
Only a few White men and women 
Realized the impending doom that had
Befallen the White Race, and these brave
Souls risked their lives and their 
Reputations to warn those among us
Who had sense enough to try and stem
The tide of destruction that was slowly
Taking place.
But in the long run, it was to no avail;
Whatever the White patriots did to 
Counter the blasphemous goings-ons,
The Enemy found ways to subvert and
Sabotage the efforts made to save our
White family.
Willingly, our ignorant young began to
Indulge in the Enemy's putrid and vile
Undertakings, and eventually became
As indifferent automatons that were 
Programmed to eradicate and disperse 
Whatever good things our People had
Accomplished over the many centuries.
Within decades, more damage was done
To our People by our People, as the 
Enemy had intended all those many 
Years ago, and without lifting a finger
To dirty themselves.
In due time, the damage was done, 
And it was irreparible.
Like a prostitute who has lost their 
Humanity after being used and abused
By so many years of men and women
Lovelessly copulating with them, the
White Race began to lose its identity,
And sadder still, its race soul was 
Being eroded away little by little,
Again like a prostitute whose soul
Has been eaten away by the 
Senseless cohabiting of beasts that
Shamble like men in the corridors of
The night, using the prostitute for their
Loveless and brutal lust, afterwards 
Leaving the man or woman senseless,
And insensate.
This was (and is) the plight of the 
White Race: 
Used and abused and utterly lacking
In a sense of soul and humanity, not
Knowing which way the wind blows,
And listlessly wallowing in the mire
Of the enemy's making.
For this, we are in the last hour of
Our final stand, and we are not 
Looking as if we, the White Race,
Are making any headway for the 
Sake of our survival.
Then let us make haste and vouchsafe
Our last days in the hopes that the
Ones after us will have some idea
Of what became of us, the last
Remnants of a once-glorious and
Illustrious race under the stars,
And Love will not be totally distraught
In Her final hours.
Категория: Vasili Bakagias | Добавил: Andre-de-Renon (08.07.2012)
Просмотров: 1642 | Комментарии: 1 | Рейтинг: 0.0/0 |

Всего комментариев: 0
Ім`я *:
Email *:
Код *:
Форма входа
Друзья сайта

Copyright MyCorp © 2018