Dysfunction spreads like mould,
covering  the crumbling edifice of our cultural empire.
Neither ice not fire can slow the decay.
O tempora, or mores*, artifice iseverywhere,
the whore is triumphantly showing the way
and Babylonian self indulgence makes more sense
in this world of abundance than stoic asceticism
or the purifying vice monastic self denial.

Depravity is virtue, anything goes,
do what thou wilt is the creed
as we abandon without compunction
ancestral values imprest on our psyche,
knowing that the deed will have no consequence
and using tricks learned from the Sophistics
to turn weakness into strength, appeasing enemies
and yielding to seditionits.
Can humanity survive like rats or cockroaches,
living low? Will insignificance be our defence.
Can the nation,that once stood firm
against subjugation of the world by
tyrant's might now, fearing to fight
the lawyer's words and accountant's ledger
endure a fall from the top rung of the ladder.
Have we forgotten who we are?
The children of Hercules, of Caesar,
Vercingertorix and Erik Bloodaxe.

We are not made to cower, kneeling before power,
but to confront the swaggering tyrant.
And so we did, and became dominant for all our faults
until the terrible tryanny of weakness
planted decadence deep within the body politic
and bound us in politically correct chains
until corruption set in and consumed the warrior soul
from within. Weakness is no sin
but ignorance of the past, and lack of curiosity
betrays the past and feeds thevast malaise
that turns us against our culture and our heritage
Google is our teacher, the internet our library
tighly controlled streams of information
mislead and deceive us. Half truths
and propaganda are the litany of our lives.

Nobody can be honest, nobody can speak out,
telling the truth as they see it because honesty
is insensitive and opinions may offend.
All the while as we yield to the tyranny of the weak,
to the bullies bluster and the poisined piety
of self - righteous bigots who preach
self loathing in place of humility.
And when rivals take what is rightly ours
we turn the other cheek we open our door
and meekly ask if we can give them more.

The virtues of steadfastness and endurance
are subsumed beneath a weakling's desire to be loved.
No warrior may weild a sword in defence of our tribal home,
we dare not offend the attacker by resisting
by denying the demand. Instead we fight
on the side of those who claim it is their right
to destroy all our nations have built, hoping
they will reward pusillanimity with friendship.

The modern warlord's weapons of choice
are keyboard,  spreadsheet, lawbook, facebook,
statistics and a negotiator's bifurcated tongue.
These weapons of politically correct vacillation
will never be adequate to defend
against the onslaught that will surely come.

The guardians are hamstrung by their own leaders.
As we face those who would lay waste
to traditions of the Celts, Goths, Romans and Greeks.
We have grown weak,the enemy within,
the people who counsel against Nordic self posession
and mock the ancient code of duty by their eagerness
to collaborate, will claim this weakness has
secured peace and honour can be found in slavery.
 
*What times, what customs - Marcus Tullius Cicero
 

 I call poems in this style "monologues" and so they are, being intended as spoken word pieces. I will be recording them as soon as I have finished converting an audio and video studio (i.e. throwing someone elses shite out of the spare bedroom).

A Chronicle of Decay
Is it lack of diversity that drives left wing hate