And without you anyway, the birds are silent

 

My Separation from you has felt just like winter and everything has been as barren as in December –

And yet the time we’ve been apart was actually summer,  then fall,  the harvest-time when nature gives birth to crops planted in the Spring

My Spring as dead as a dead Mother,  the season gone even while crops planted remained,  my Spring like a woman giving birth to a stillborn child

after her husband’s death do these abundant fruits of nature seem as hopeless orphans to me  because Summer and  Summer’s pleasures all depended on you..

and without you  anyway, even  the birds  are  silent.

Or,  if they sing,  their song’s  so  dismal  that  the leaves grow pale with fear,  dreading the fact that Winter’s almost here  and you  are  nowhere  near.

 

Related image

 

 

 

Come Home to Me and Kiss Me

Come home to me right now, pack your bags and catch a cab, I miss you.  Call me on the telephone the ringer’s, broken notifications silent.  Do the pretty girls tempt you there when you dance in  bars, drinking modern cocktails,  laughing intimately?

I pace the floor at night and dune that web for lies and trickeries, it’s making me so nervous and I can’t sleep anymore —- Come home to me right now, pack your bags and catch a cab, the hurricane is coming my way,  I don’t want to be alone.

My love is stronger, though it seems weaker.  I don’t love less,  but show less my love. This doesn’t mean I don’t want you, so come home to me right now, don’t bother to shave, put out your cigarette and catch a cab,  I need to kiss you.

 Our love was still new when I used to write poems about it,  just as the nightingale sings at the start of summer,  then stops singing as summer wanes.   It’s not that summer is less pleasant now than the nights when your nightingale sang for you:

My heart is just a cherry tree filled with songbirds singing yet  when love gets common, they’re less delightful;  but your nightingale still sings for you silently.  Keeping her silence so as not to bore you with her constant song.

Come home to me right now pack your bags,  catch a cab, I miss you.  Call me on the telephone the ringer’s broken, notifications silent.  The pretty girls all smile at you and laugh at every joke  but pack your bags and catch a cab, the hurricane is coming my way,

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t love less but I show less my love, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you

So come home to me right now don’t bother to shave put out your cigarette, pack a bag and catch a cab, come home to me, I need to kiss you.

 

 

 

My Beautiful Friend

You’ll never be old to me, beautiful friend, for  your beauty seems just the same as it was when I first saw your lovely eyes. Let the cold winters’ passing strip the leaves off your proud summers,  the beautiful springs turning to yellow autumns all in the course of Nature’s advancing

Aprils full of perfumed flowers, burn up hot Junes all running away from the day I first saw you, and knew I had loved you forever upon first glancing that passed between Us – You still today as fresh as then, my eternal soul stopping to bend and sway before you, still fresh and green —-

O, but beauty’s hand is like a clock wiping away  youth; yet her hand stops to rest upon your cheek — stopping to move so slowly that no one can see the time eroding.  In this way your sweet beauty seems to be standing still but is actually changing and though my eyes may be deceived,

I love you still as if You are forever young.  Because, before you were born, the greatest examples of Timeless  Beauty were already dead.

 

Wehrmacht soldier on a horse.

I Lied ….

I lied in those poems I wrote  before where I said
 I couldn’t love you any more than I did already.
Back then I had no reason to think that my love,  which was already burning intensely, could burn any brighter.
Instead,  I was depending on  the passage of time —
 together with the millions of unexpected events that can come between lovers’  promises and change even the laws of time  —
That might darken a lover’s sacred beauty,  take the edge off  a lover’s keenest intentions, and force the strongest minds to adapt to changing circumstances.
Why didn’t I say back then,  when I was worried about time’s destructive power,
“I love you best in the  now” ?

I was so certain of my feelings  despite the uncertainty of our lives, and I was ready to say my present happiness was complete,  though I had doubts about everything to come.

Love

Love Itself is a childlike thing of wonder:  Cupid, the god of love, is always depicted as a Baby Boy

If Love  itself is a baby,  wouldn’t it have been natural for me to have said

that my love  for you  was fully  grown, though it keeps growing?
 
Is there anything more perfect than a lazy morning with her??? #UnconditionalLove
Who knew that the literally Hitler 21st century Fuhrer of the Aryan people was going to be a goy stand up comic, with better jokes than any kike comedian?
Lenny Bruce just whined in his grave when the gods of comedy told him he’d been fully replaced by a swaggering Irish anti-semite  Nazi storm trooper named Anglin

 

Andrew Anglin
Daily Stormer
September 6, 2017

Atlanta, Georgia: The City of Minus 1000 fucks

After searching long and hard for a new domain, we landed in the A-T-L, motherfuckers. I put out a call for a nation to give refuge to the site, and heard nothing.

Then, at 5 AM this morning, I picked up my cell and heard:  “Yo dawg, is Kasim, and I ain’t no muffuggen nation, but I sure as fuck be a city.”

And I was like:   “Wait – what?”

And then he was like: “This is Kasim Reed, bitch! I got yo ass!

Are you a basketball player?

Bitch I’m the muffuggin Mayor of A-Town, and we be botta swoop in and getcho ass, because I be done past fed-up with these creepy-ass yids.”

 

So you’re saying...”

Yes, motherfucker!  Daily Stomper is comin to the A-T-L! Get yo ass to the Skyline Lounge at 1 AM tonight, and we’re gonna party down like a motherfucker! All party favors provided by the City of Atlanta! You read me, my man ?”

Oh I read ya, just fine.”

Motherfucka  I’m talkin about cocaine!  C-O-A-I-N.  We got green like you ain’t never seen, we got pills,  we got hoes with basketball titties  –  we gots all kindsa motherfucken shit out here in A-Town!  We bringin back the Stomper and it’s fuckin party time in the A-T-L!  Fuck dem hook-nose faggots!  And fuck the Google.  I got a cousin used ta contract doin heating and cooling at dey ATL office,  he got all kinds of fucked over.

Some chinky bitch say he grab her titties, bitch ain’t even had not titties ta grab. Gnomesane?  I say fuck all these bitches,  we botta throw down! We gonna fuck they shit up! A-Town, motherfucka – you don’t mess with it! Yo hol up I got a bitch on the line, you talk to my main man here.”

He then passed the phone to a white man who said,  “ Mr. Anglin? Yes, my name is Jerry Thomas, Mr. Reed’s assistant. Not sure if you got all that or not, but the Mayor of Atlanta is offering to register your website under the .at  TLD,  which his office has full authority over. We can’t guarantee that the domain will hold,  given that you are clearly under pressure from the federal government,  but Mr. Reed wants to do what he can to help you out. He doesn’t read much news,  but he has a deep-rooted hatred for Jews,  due to various experiences with landlords and record producers.”

Okay,” I said. “Do I really need to come get high with him at the Skyline Lounge in order to seal the deal?”

No sir. In fact,   I would advise against it. Mr. Reed’s late night business meetings at the Skyline Lounge often get quite rowdy.  It’s a very… urban environment, which may make you uncomfortable. I would also assume you don’t have much of a desire to fly to Atlanta tonight in order to do schedule 1 drugs with the Mayor.”

I then heard the Mayor yelling in the background , “dat boy gotta drop dat verse,”  and Jerry said:  “Oh, while you can definitely skip the drug party tonight, the Mayor has asked that you sing a song with his friend ‘Gucci Mane.’ I’m not sure how familiar you are with urban music, but… -”

“-Oh I know Gucci,”  I interrupted.  “And yeah, I’m totally down to drop a verse on his next mixtape.”

Very well then. Send me the A records, and we’ll get your domain up this afternoon.”

Gucci Mane, Atlanta’s favorite son. That  Electronic Arts tattoo stands for  “East Atlanta.”

And that was that.   The domain was secured.

And we are back on the real internet.

https://dailystormer.at/