Wood for the trees

23:29 by Editor · 0 Post a comment on AAWR

Sometimes you cant see the wood for the trees, sometimes actions are so well crafted that few can see behind the curtain, sometimes things are so set in place that to speak ill of them sets one up for attack, sets one up for disparagement ,sets one against another and forces one to go beyond the norm to another place. Beyond the norm, beyond the normal, beyond that which is seen to be everyday, commonplace, normal, yet what if normal were gifted, created, what if the parameters in which we operate were created according to a plan, an agenda, what then, could one really say it is normal, is not normalcy utterly natural and that which is crafted not so.

Not so long ago now thoughts now a crime were commonplace, the belief in country and kind, ethic and moral, truth and yes justice, yet all of that, all of the once normal has gone, spirited away, vanishing as vapour in the warren of time. Today talk of race and nation is the
most appalling wrong, why it’ll be concentration camps next, watch towers and long trains pulling wagons loaded with a human cargo, why to even think racially is an evil, didn’t you know we’re all the same, all of us, all equal none better and none worse, merely equal, merely here and nothing else.

Just live and that is all, race is a fallacy, a construct of evil minds, why there can never be a recognition of difference because that is hate, that or it leads to it and so we each operate, operate within an imposed set of social mores, operate terrified of offending and yes the supposed victim-class becomes the elevated, able to ride out for now the enforcement, able to use it ,exploit it in their own interest or that of their group and the Caucasian, well he or she lives cowed, whilst others hold the very whip-hand, the power to call them to account falsely or not, that then the new freedom ,that then the new order, the new world ,the new creation.

Yet such a condition does not simply operate to keep society in place, it operates to prevent and it operates even within nationalism, even within patriotism and it negates almost all defence, sets commonsense in a race with lunacy and creates a faction within the patriotic movement that aids unknowingly or otherwise the agenda. Hate motivates, it galvanises and what if one could create it, use it, use it as a weapon to smash apart reason and greatly rush us towards the new age, the coming storm, the war of bewilderment, what if in the thinking, those that wish us gone have taken our loyalty towards each other, our love of nation, our sense of self, of people, our pride in defender and hero and uses it for a nefarious purpose as has happened before.

What if there are those that have not a care as to the blood split in malicious purpose, if the threat resided not within their house but in the house of those about which they care little, what if yet again Tommy was used and to his people. God can no-one slap you awake, shake you to realisation, pull you reluctantly or otherwise towards the truth of the matter and then leave it with you, take you from the dream state and show you reality. So lost, so confused, yet unaware of it in the main, most inhabit a world handed to them, shaped and fitted and honed, most live and die in innocence, unknowing and wholly unaware.

Still the crafted world is so very well created that even the aware must tread its path must navigate between its parameters and observe the lost, the broken and the exploited, each and all struggles within the game, yet mate is already called, already near, merely a move or two to close, the game almost over unless you look. How do you speak to those lost within the fog, those staggering in the soup, weighed down by hate until the eye is blind and the mind long gone, how to reach them, to pull them back from the precipice towards which they walk, leading others to the endless fall.

Some so motivated by the agenda-makers they simply can no longer listen to or indeed see reason, they charge blind at a given enemy whilst the real villain rides past with impunity. Good god what an age we live in when even the common man has no bond, when all we have left are the years of our fathers because the present is so intolerably awful, we reach out to the past because they have given us no future, we tell tales of a better age because this one shames us, makes of us victims, hunted and prey. Better days then, no crime upon the street ,women walked unmolested and the little ones played in peace, the police served the people and neighbourliness existed, not as a ghost, a phantom, not as a spectre, conjured up in tales told by the aged, front-doors left open and a better world, a kinder world, a peoples world.

Today good men walk a perilous path, step from stone to stone across a raging waterway, fearful of slipping they stagger from rock to rock, laden with hope and little else, still these good people, these men and women who wish only justice, decency and a homeland, face so many foes, so many arrows upon a lonely battlefield, few rush to them or their banner and many return home to those they love, shaking their heads at the inaction of their people. So knowledgeable these men and women, so honourable, so willing for their people, so open to the chance, evil cannot permit it, cannot bear the escape, cannot risk its plan, its appalling agenda and so it must turn whom it can, it must create division, animosity and negate the threat, it does this job so well.

Yet the agenda my friends is not just here, it is not just we Caucasians under attack, not just the west but all mankind, the juggernaut moves on to other cultures rips through other creeds. Why the west already kneels with few awake to the peril, why the west is owned and debt-ridden so they look to the east, to those other lands, to the lands of other peoples and blood must be split. Ah Tommy, poor Tommy, its you again, led as a fool for the slaughter, pride of family and friend, lover and offspring, resplendent at pass out and bursting with pride, go there Tommy, die there Tommy in a war unjust, unwanted and unneeded, unneeded by us Tommy by yours, by your family and kind, your country and culture.

Still has not Tommy ever been used, ever his blood split for others gain, his very death a use in this war of propaganda, fake veneration by treacherous politicians to stir the people, oh they want us then, the patriot the fool, the unaware, wave flags and cry for them, stand stiffly, applaud even but it is all for show, all for propagandas purpose though even in this supposed clever age few know it. So the red tops preach hate and the broadsheets craft it better, the hatred is ratcheted up and we rush to war, still this enemy mine, this enemy yours, simply walks through the gate, this oh so very radicalised enemy permitted entrance by the door.

Why they’re open at all hours so handy and so dependable and can we really go without a curry, without the nations favourite meal, yet if they are really the enemy supposed then why the unmanned gate, why the permittance of antagonistic action and the fermenting of supreme chaos, to serve the plan, to offer the blood of Tommy up to Mars, Zeus or simply to the agenda, the plan must succeed. Yet the blind, the so very blind partake of it all, hatred of this dammed colonisation leads to paucity of vision, a dearth of awareness and the agenda-makers laugh their cotton socks off and we each succumb to war.

Afghanistan, this place of rock and death, home to the poppy and the other, what right we to change it, to rush in bristling with guns, what right we to make of Iraq a colony, hanging its sovereign leader in the process and yes what right we to berate Iran when it is we that parade across the world as mad dogs, mad dogs out in the mid day sun. Not too long ago the Muslim was a protected species, part of the colonising coalition, now of course it fits purpose for hate to have a face, for the shoring up of enmity for the building up of the pyre. Some call themselves nationalists yet all they talk of is hate, hate for Islam and that then is all, yet you aid the agenda as if you impose it, you create only the option of bloodshed and nothing more, not for me your brand of nationalism your fakery and sham, your contentment to chase a people to death attack dogs of the new order.

Train your sights upon the true enemy, not these dwellers in their own lands, level your guns at our treacherous leaders and those that lead them, today I hear that cleverness tries its hand ,that Islam4UK plans a march in Wootton Basset, this place chosen, splashed across the owned media, the very deaths of our soldiers used for propaganda purposes. Don’t be deceived, don’t sit in innocence those that march us towards a new day have no care for the fallen, for the smashed and mangled corpses of those returning but it stirs a soul to anger does it not, it uses our patriotism against us and for that our pennants are permitted to flutter in the breeze, so contrived, so used, used twice those men, those soldiers of ill-fortune sent to fight for a lie.

So the lions line up, why it’s the very thing to do, attack Islam because the real enemy is oh to hard or too unknown, parrot and parrot again the permitted hate but dare speak truth and the gaol awaits or worse yet your brakes may fail or you may hang from a tree in a lonely field, perhaps your heart will simply give out, a favourite tactic of late. If you love our soldiers rise above this sham, this mockery of their service of their end, bring them home from this travesty, from this debacle, this war to begin war, if you love them for their loyalty set them free from this, this is not their war, our war but only that of the elites.

I can almost smell it, hear the raucous shout grow louder upon the chill wind, the tread of zombie feet, the smell of beer and the fluttering of foreign flags, two sides of the same coin EDL and IslamUK both entrapping the bitter, the angry and the unknowledgeable, strange really as those that shout out for “INGurlanddd!!” aid the very agenda that sends our soldiers there and those that advocate Islam, insure attack within the lands of the prophet, both sides offering up their sons in a war for others, stupidity against stupidity whilst we ,the few, stand in horror, souls gripped by despair and dismay weighing upon our hearts.

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