We are the sons and daughters of Winter.
Fierce, cruel, ruthless, unforgiving and stern Mother Winter.
Feel the cold embrace, of a land that does not welcome you.
Gaze upon the pale faces of Death.
We were created in Her image.
We cast our firstborn children into the bogs,
The dowry for our everlasting marriage to this land.
Mother recognizes her children.
She will throw you off her lap.
I remember
The dark woods, masking slopes of sombre hills;
The grey clouds’ leaden everlasting arch;
The dusky streams that flowed without a sound,
And the lone winds that whispered down the passes.
Vista upon vista marching, hills on hills,
Slope beyond slope, each dark with sullen trees,
Our gaunt land lay. So when a man climbed up
A rugged peak and gazed, his shaded eye
Saw but the endless vista–hill on hill,
Slope beyond slope, each hooded like its brothers.
It was a gloomy land that seemed to hold
All winds and clouds and dreams that shun the sun,
With bare boughs rattling in the lonesome winds,
And the dark woodlands brooding over all,
Not even lightened by the rare dim sun
Which made squat shadows out of men; they called it
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and deep Night.
It was so long ago and far away
I have forgotten the very name men called me.
The axe and flint-tipped spear are like a dream,
And hunts and wars are like shadows. I recall
Only the stillness of that sombre land;
The clouds that piled forever on the hills,
The dimness of the everlasting woods.
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and the Night.
Oh, soul of mine, born out of shadowed hills,
To clouds and winds and ghosts that shun the sun,
How many deaths shall serve to break at last
This heritage which wraps me in the grey
Apparel of ghosts? I search my heart and find
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and the Night.
(Not mine, but I love it.)
Another from Robert E Howard
Serpent prow on the Afric coast,
Doom on the Moorish town;
And this is the song the steersman sang
As the dragonship swept down:
I followed Asgrimm Snorri’s son around the world and half-way back,
And ‘scaped the hate of Galdjerhrun who sank our ship off Skagerack.
I lent my sword to Hrothgar then; his eyes were ice, his heart was hard;
He fell with half his weapon-men to our own kin at Mikligard.
And then for many a weary moon I labored at the galley’s oar
Where men grow maddened by the rune of row-locks clacking ever more.
But I survived the reeking rack, the toil, the whips that burned and gashed,
The spiteful Greeks that scarred my back and trembled even while they lashed.
They sold me on the Eastern block; in silver coins their price was paid;
They girt me with a chain and lock, I laughed and they were sore afraid.
I toiled among the olive trees until a night of hot desire
Blew me a breath of outer seas and filled my veins with curious fire.
Then I arose and broke my chain and laughed to know that I was free,
And battered out my master’s brain and fled and gained the open sea.
Beneath a copper sun adrift, I shunned the proa and the dhow,
Until I saw a sail uplift, and saw and knew the dragon prow.
Oh, East of sands and sunlit gulf, your blood is thin, your gods are few;
You could not break the Northern wolf and now the wolf has turned on you.
The fires that light the coasts of Spain fling shadows on the Eastern strand.
Master, your slave has come again with torch and axe in his right hand!
A poem dedicated to all my fellow autists who dropped out of college:
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
Walt Whitman
>Whitman
Oof
Oh well
The universe will die. Eventually it will become nothing. In roughly a quadrillion years, a last star will give its last twinkle, and black holes will devour everything before they completely evaporate. And in a googol years (that’s 10 to the hundredth power, which is a lot), the universe will be empty. Physicists speculate that emptiness will last for an infinite time period.
I remember the winter. As a child, I ran through the snow barefoot, breathing the clean, cold air. Nothing they did to me mattered, I was a happy little imbecile. Peculiar. The bastards who treated me like the family pet met miserable endings of their own making. My oh-so-bright brothers all full of promise had feet of clay. Karma is indeed a bitch.
Notice how when non-whites demonize white people they still can’t help but glorify us. There’s nothing more respectful of white people than a non-white that has been instilled with a bit of fear. Non-whites know deep down that we conquered the entire world only a few centuries ago; and smarter ones know the only reason they aren’t slaves is because we don’t care to enslave them anymore.
Hebh is clearly thirsty for white men with this post. “Omg these white people with these striking blue eyes are sooo scary! I can’t help but crack a lady boner every time an aryan chad stares me down and thinks about destroying me.” Jamal clearly wants white dick so sooo bad; too bad she’s ugly. It must be a sad existence to be ugly and brown. Queen sandnigger also knows deep down that countries run by her own kind are shitholes; which is why she prefers to live in the cold North where they have working plumbing and attractive aryan men give her mean looks for being an ugly femcel brownie.
You’d still shag her in a heartbeat though.
Send out the bleaching patrol!
I see the controversy and as owner of this website I will have to declare a fatwa:
You are allowed to shag them if you first reduce their self-confidence to the point where they recognize the privilege and honor of being penetrated by you.
Give them blue-eyed grandchildren.
I’m at a point in life where I’m fast running out of options. If that Muslim bird has a nice arse I don’t care how much of an obnoxious cow she is, I’ll dive in.
She’s even been given an award by LSWM carnivore supremo, Andrew Tate himself! She can’t possibly be all that bad. She’d probably crucify cross dressing males while you pathetic LSWMs argue for the chair or a mere hanging:
https://www.bxtimes.com/bp-diaz-hosts-ramadan-iftar-dinner/
Scroll down to the third pic