Can you feel it, can you smell it, can you discern it from afar, can you make out the slow steady creep of genocide, do you care, I mean do you, as you go about your daily life, caught up in the current and hanging on for you and yours and after all, does it matter. You recoil instinctively from the tag “hater”, it throws your thoughts into disarray, quiets the tongue and inhibits action and so we die, once more slowly, now apace, yet there is barely a voice to bewail our passing, barely a defence against our end. We throw it all away with barely a thought, perhaps we have not the time, our life’s so important and those to come so very disregarded, we buy low energy items now to save the planet, yet refuse to save ourselves, refuse to act to save our genes and continue as nature intended.
I see it almost daily, little brown faces gawking out from buggies and pushchairs, smiling Picaninnies inheritor’s supreme, how I pity them those few whites to come, those bare minimum, that shrinking pool, no need then for draconian law, for authoritarian chicanery, the deed is done and we are no more. Oh they will still fight, still cross swords but we shall be no more and to this world we but a memory, a-has-been-but-now gone, a creature of old, an extinct myth, a creature denied life. Do you see what I see, do you bear witness, as all no longer care, is it over, is it, those many years when we created the world, when we created wonders for others to enjoy, still they hate us don’t they, loathe us and fear us, the final solution for the white man is to kill them off.
Oh but we do it to ourselves, those hordes not strong enough, those running men, gifted greater athletic prowess, could never outthink the thinker, never invent the wheel or set the ship a sailing, no other minds direct affairs, other minds ponder a way and now they have it, now they hold the day. So many, too many, brown eyes in brown faces, pushed by harried mothers across the urban blightscape, an army arising, a force to come and we kill off our young, murder our defence and set a course for death. Miscegenation is the new religion, as pews remain unpolished by buttocks in Sunday best, now Friday prayer attracts and the church kneels before it, capitulating all in hopes of leniency, no longer does Christendom face its lions, now it feeds them, prostrating itself for the mauling.
Can you not see, or do you never venture in country to where the change occurs, do you merely read the press, wholly owned and wholly biased ,do you never see what I see, just the vision duplicity gives you. Perhaps if I told how rare it is here, how rare for white children to enter this mortal coil, kicking and screaming, pained by the loss of mothers protection, sent here to send others on similar journey. Not as hens teeth not yet that rare but enough to crush the spirit, enough to leaden hope and encage a stomach in ice, now they run towards miscegenation, bound as hounds to the hare and our future ends. Perhaps six in every ten buggies, contain babes born for other climes, mostly pushed by white females their faces a grimace, as they push through a wall of disapproval, oh its there, no longer voiced but there, perhaps it is weaker, perhaps merely muted.
Still they cannot look me in the face and others have voiced such sentiment, others, who to see our demise and the rise of another world, it matters little the reason, be it rebelliousness or the states engineering, the story ends the same and not in our favour. Yet we stand, mute at the roadside as the army marches in, we lower the drawbridge and permit access to it all, when its gone of course its gone, we shall not return, least not in number, the world shall forever be shades of brown, a mono-nothingness presided over by evil. Will you ever use your voice, ever tell them no, or will you give them your children’s future, your children’s right, without a word, can you not see it already, as your children struggle for shelter, as the list grows longer and we languish at the bottom, can you not see it now as our old die of cold, whilst those that come to take get given, can you not see it now, as our children gain no employment and the working class return again below stairs. It needn’t be this way, needn’t be our end, we have the right to live, the right to life, let them call you “hater”, let them shout it at the very top of their voices and hold your head up high.
Your duty first is to your own and can never reside with others, your children are your genes and you must push them on, you must aid your own and in doing so contest their exploitation, contest those that would see them gone. Let me tell you that Europe is a white land, a white culture and they mean it gone, now as I write this, they pull it down and you stand around and watch them do it, watch them destroy it all. Can you not see their lies ,once they said it would not change a thing now we alter all, once they said few of number now the torrent, when will it stop, when will it end, when the halt and the clearer sky, never, it will never stop, it will go on and on until Europe is no more and then other places. Not white lands then for they will be no-more but other places, perhaps only the great mass in the east and India will survive , perhaps not, by then Europe is gone, America and the dominions, not a white land for a white race and we at most a Diaspora, a minority in every land, a punishment for our sins, at least in their hate filled eyes. So what is it, contestation of merely one creed or contestation of the many, do you march for an erroneous cause or your people, I chose my path, not really by choice but circumstance, what is yours.
I see it almost daily, little brown faces gawking out from buggies and pushchairs, smiling Picaninnies inheritor’s supreme, how I pity them those few whites to come, those bare minimum, that shrinking pool, no need then for draconian law, for authoritarian chicanery, the deed is done and we are no more. Oh they will still fight, still cross swords but we shall be no more and to this world we but a memory, a-has-been-but-now gone, a creature of old, an extinct myth, a creature denied life. Do you see what I see, do you bear witness, as all no longer care, is it over, is it, those many years when we created the world, when we created wonders for others to enjoy, still they hate us don’t they, loathe us and fear us, the final solution for the white man is to kill them off.
Oh but we do it to ourselves, those hordes not strong enough, those running men, gifted greater athletic prowess, could never outthink the thinker, never invent the wheel or set the ship a sailing, no other minds direct affairs, other minds ponder a way and now they have it, now they hold the day. So many, too many, brown eyes in brown faces, pushed by harried mothers across the urban blightscape, an army arising, a force to come and we kill off our young, murder our defence and set a course for death. Miscegenation is the new religion, as pews remain unpolished by buttocks in Sunday best, now Friday prayer attracts and the church kneels before it, capitulating all in hopes of leniency, no longer does Christendom face its lions, now it feeds them, prostrating itself for the mauling.
Can you not see, or do you never venture in country to where the change occurs, do you merely read the press, wholly owned and wholly biased ,do you never see what I see, just the vision duplicity gives you. Perhaps if I told how rare it is here, how rare for white children to enter this mortal coil, kicking and screaming, pained by the loss of mothers protection, sent here to send others on similar journey. Not as hens teeth not yet that rare but enough to crush the spirit, enough to leaden hope and encage a stomach in ice, now they run towards miscegenation, bound as hounds to the hare and our future ends. Perhaps six in every ten buggies, contain babes born for other climes, mostly pushed by white females their faces a grimace, as they push through a wall of disapproval, oh its there, no longer voiced but there, perhaps it is weaker, perhaps merely muted.
Still they cannot look me in the face and others have voiced such sentiment, others, who to see our demise and the rise of another world, it matters little the reason, be it rebelliousness or the states engineering, the story ends the same and not in our favour. Yet we stand, mute at the roadside as the army marches in, we lower the drawbridge and permit access to it all, when its gone of course its gone, we shall not return, least not in number, the world shall forever be shades of brown, a mono-nothingness presided over by evil. Will you ever use your voice, ever tell them no, or will you give them your children’s future, your children’s right, without a word, can you not see it already, as your children struggle for shelter, as the list grows longer and we languish at the bottom, can you not see it now as our old die of cold, whilst those that come to take get given, can you not see it now, as our children gain no employment and the working class return again below stairs. It needn’t be this way, needn’t be our end, we have the right to live, the right to life, let them call you “hater”, let them shout it at the very top of their voices and hold your head up high.
Your duty first is to your own and can never reside with others, your children are your genes and you must push them on, you must aid your own and in doing so contest their exploitation, contest those that would see them gone. Let me tell you that Europe is a white land, a white culture and they mean it gone, now as I write this, they pull it down and you stand around and watch them do it, watch them destroy it all. Can you not see their lies ,once they said it would not change a thing now we alter all, once they said few of number now the torrent, when will it stop, when will it end, when the halt and the clearer sky, never, it will never stop, it will go on and on until Europe is no more and then other places. Not white lands then for they will be no-more but other places, perhaps only the great mass in the east and India will survive , perhaps not, by then Europe is gone, America and the dominions, not a white land for a white race and we at most a Diaspora, a minority in every land, a punishment for our sins, at least in their hate filled eyes. So what is it, contestation of merely one creed or contestation of the many, do you march for an erroneous cause or your people, I chose my path, not really by choice but circumstance, what is yours.
![Churchill, Hitler and the Unnecessary War](http://patbuchananbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/bk-pjb-chuw165.jpg "Churchill_Hitler_the_Unnecessary_War\")
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