Preator Pipers Poetry

Has never a man felt sorrow
In the fame of a dead mans deeds?
To see the glory that sits and reins there
And finds it lacking in his sieve?

Has never a man felt sorrow
When he finds a broken home?
Doors hanging loosely on their hinges
And the slooping of the walls?

Has never a man felt greatness
For in him the blood of his father's flows?
The deeds they struck down upon
Joves Illustrious groves?

Feeling sorrow in the state of things
And the glory of what was
Drives us forward yet against
The devil's that bring us woes

Loneliness manifests in crowds
Who feel the presence all around
Yet hollow rings their speech aloud
For the deaf ears which it has found

Nevermind the hi's and hey's
They do not look, They do not say
For loneliness it rules their days
Not a word, not in ae

Light does cast their presence there
Like like line cast o'er waves
Yet the caster's glare
Finds it like stolid graves

I know all your dreams are nightmares
and sometimes, mine are too
But the time we spent together
Made all my best dreams just of you

What trauma you may carry
Is no threat or pain to me
All I wish for you to do
Is hold still and lay with me

The pied piper couldn't sing a more playful or colorful tune for the boomer to dance to as they joyfully shove everything that was civilization off a cliff before jumping themselves, laughing all the way.

Among both men and gods alike
None know a greater feat
Than knowing deep your weakness bare
Yet stepping forth to breathe

For fear it sinks much deeper
Within that of mortal man
Courage is not lacking fear
But carrying it in hand

200 years separate and all the bloodlines that founded and have almost all been integrated into the power structure or wiped out in one of the many wars.

We do not have the culture of the men who founded because we are thoroughly atomized, even those we may call brother today we will absolutely not fight and die in the defense of for almost any reason whatsoever unless we ourselves face the very same danger.

We are not hungry, we are not working for our bread or meat, we are not free. Even the angry men do not act, even to do as little as to network and recreate the structures that fed and fueled the revolution in the first place.

At best, we are a heavily armed nations of creatins, cowards and jabberers that are the sons of sons of sons of once great men who would happily fight, kill and die for his brother in time of need without that being a wholly empty phrase among the so-called valiant warriors we find flush among ourselves today.

The heros and warriors that we worship are hollow, empty ideals for which we rest our laurels upon while those who are actively genociding us continue to go entirely unmolested, unopposed and unresisted because the men willing to kill at a word being a lie or not are the ones supporting the system that continues our genocide to this day and the next. They are drunk deep on jewish legalism, their insane unreality of fantastic lies they tell themselves for the sake of their own conscience, supported by every killed that surrounds them happily.

Those killers of men are happy to impose their borrowed will upon the lesser of men they isolate and hate for the sake of difference being a blue shirt or not.

If you would like a culture of true brotherhood, do not act as a coward or a delusional righteous fool. If you are to impart your will on the world, create a platform for which to stand upon and push into the depths of the sea those who come to oppose it, brothers in arms and snipers on each rooftop. There is no other truth to power, there is no god to act for you. Fortune favors the bold but never the foolish.


Too bad this is much too violent of a position to take as per legalism, they'll kill you over it. The enforcers of jewish legalism, that is.

Silence, part 2

Silence is a common thing
Of which is often found
It comes up from just every place
Fills both awe, shy, and sound

We really often lack it
In our times of need
Whether from your will alone
Or another pleading, please

When sounds abound and cracks the ground
What you will all now hear
Is a silent soft still ringing
Forever in your ear

Stolen from us in every breath
The thick filled void of silence
It's filled to brim and just within
No noise is found with violence

You should not speak when spoken to
Their breath is filled with threats
Implied below, their breath held so
That you might mistake a theft

Silence met, is proper yet
Done with a will of iron
For actions they speak silently
Not under of your breath

When off it goes, silence knows
of how and where to be
There's nothing there
For which to stare or whimper out a peep