Holiest of vessels
most serene natural expressions which the system wrestles
the Aryan women
those that are born in a hostile place
those that eagerly fight to release their innate grace
the prime targets of a culturally-terrifying rodent race
Shreds of tradition is the most one may hope for
within the many different confines of a white family core
If such a future lady blessed by Fortune be
then it is Aryan glory still they may yet see
Even if a comfortable home life is to be had
it is still the multicult programming from the schools and media one unfortunate girl may be clad
And if the sickening behavior of her sisters is avoided tactfully
we can barely expect their previously purged parents to combat the filth forcefully
For acts most degenerate and dirty
are today marred by national approval, encouragement and sordid legitimacy
She ages; this Aryan girl; blossoms toward womanhood,
still encircled by both enemy ideals and males not acting as proper gentlemen should
She may wave them away
never allowing such genetic and cultural travesties a chance to sway
Still though, without a mate
nor a tranquil society geared to make such wholesome girls elate…
…the prospect of “higher education” seems too great
the “oppressive” patriarchy done away with during the Civil Rights era
and the empowered Femen of the nations beckoned to become a Starbucks-smocked Hera
To shuffle about
within or without the corporate world
to fend off the unrelenting lout
who such so obviously have carnal desires at the forefront; unfurled
The Aryan Woman; a dying breed
whom are so discouraged with more righteous children this world to seed
Given the fact that more oft than not
that the pool of potential husbands seem to be a slothful, distracted and weak lot
It is no wonder many would-be-Aryan women’s spirits are laced with unyielding despair
dreadful thoughts of loneliness, timid fears of never knowing a lover so fair
I wish now to remind those A. Women so rare
that you will, if I may help it, have this holy mission to share:
to save a race in the midst of suicide
to aid a people most disorderly and unloved
to fight the forces of filth whom do only chide
to ruthlessly rend political correctness while ungloved
The gorgeous collection of people whom we warriors, we Sons of Thule, must heed
the type of being whom never fail to make me weak-kneed
whom effortlessly alight my interest
whom always grace my thoughts as if already kissed
whom specifically work towards my own inspiration
whom never not lead me to elation
accept me or not, I love them the same
for if not, not to at all time fight for; I’d consider myself most lame!
I may forge only my own spirit and ceaselessly work to develop
the beautiful and bountiful
DAUGHTERS OF GERMANIA
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