|
||||
|
Home
|
||||
|
The Stranger
by Rudyard Kipling The stranger within my gate, He may be true or kind, But he does not talk my talk - I cannot feel his mind. I see the face and the eyes and the mouth, But not the soul behind. The men of my own stock, They may do ill or well, But they tell the lies I am wonted to, They are used to the lies I tell; And we do not need interpreters When we go to buy and sell. The Stranger within my gates, He may be evil or good, But I cannot tell what powers control - What reasons sway his mood; Nor when the Gods of his far-off land Shall reposses his blood. The men of my own stock, Bitter bad they may be, But, at least, they hear the things I hear, and see the things I see; And whatever I think of them and their likes They think the likes of me. This was my father's belief And this is also mine; Let the corn be all one sheaf - and the grapes be all one vine, Ere our Children's teeth are set on edge by bitter bread and wine. The Wolf of Winter by Karl Hand ©1995 The Wolf of Winter, descending on the land, howling through the trees, and drifting across the plains I turn up my collar, watching the snow come down. A coat of lustery white, covering the frozen ground. (chorus) The Wolf of Winter, is all around. Hel's darkness, and breath abounds. Yes, the Wolf of Winter, is coming down. Loki's child, the Fenris hound. The Wolf of Winter, that grew in his fury, and cost Tyr his hand, and made the other Gods leery. (repeat chorus) So I head to the house, my face to the wind, The Wolf of Winter, he has no friend. (chorus) They Learn That They May Conquer by Fafnir, aka the late Robert E. Miles They learn that they may conquer, all who enter here. For power is not evil, if free men have no fear. War is simply struggle, and struggle simply life. Knowing how to conquer, lets a man control the strife. Before one goes to battle, one learns the art and skill. One knows of others lessons, and fortifies his will. Soldiers proudly marching, stir even the simplest hearts. For inside every Aryan, rests ancient martial arts. Enough of alien braying, enough of sheeplike ways! Aryans stand together, and march toward glory days. For God embraces heroes, he loves the warrior breed. With him with us forever, what other do you need? Forgotten Youth by Sean Dillon Who else do we have, but ourselves to blame? Our forgotten youth, can't carry the flame. We did not teach them, their heraldic rites, they have no knowledge, with which to fight. The zeal to win, our most cherished place, amongst Valhalla's, warm embrace. The future is slipping, through our hands, dying on, their misguided plans. We need to seize them, from their fate, before all is lost, it's not too late. So brothers of, our blessed race. The time has come, to take your place. No longer can, we sit and stare. The White to gray, just like our hair. Go grab a youth, one or more. Impart your knowledge, of days of yore. This ode is given, from heart to hand From old to young, one final stand. If you would like to have your poem or lyrics published here, then simply submit it to the address below and we'll try to get it on here for you and in White Voice. |
||||
|
Knowledge Is Power! |
||||