Does Pol have any Red Pilled Poetry?

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>Poetry

The white man’s burden by Rudyard Kipling

Everything ever written by Lord Byron. Darkness is a very relevant poem for our times.

There once was a man from Nantucket...

I herd T.S.Eliot was gud

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Trump 2024

Ye Mariners of England : Thomas Campbell

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Pat put that quote at the end of Suicide of a Superpower.

Someone post the H.P. Lovecraft poem

What a shock in the morning

When the turd you pass

Splashes cold water

Right up you ass

White man is the best
There is no west without him
Keep niggers out please

Whatever happens we have got
The maxim gun
And they have not

Who hold the balance of the World? Who reign
O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal?
Who rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain?[615]
(That make old Europe's journals "squeak and gibber"[616] all)
Who keep the World, both old and new, in pain
Or pleasure? Who make politics run glibber all?
The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring?--
Jew (((Rothschild))),[617] and his fellow-Christian, Baring.

Canto the Twelfth, V, Lord Byron.

Here's a redpill.
It's about poetry too.

Shakespeare wasn't a poet, but a spy.
The people of his hometown thought he was a barley merchant, it's why the bust there was edited.

Pretty good redpill on lust.

With Usura

With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
that design might cover their face,
with usura
hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall
harpes et luz
or where virgin receiveth message
and halo projects from incision,
with usura
seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly
with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour
with usura the line grows thick
with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling.
Stonecutter is kept from his tone
weaver is kept from his loom
WITH USURA
wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura is a murrain, usura
blunteth the needle in the maid’s hand
and stoppeth the spinner’s cunning. Pietro Lombardo
came not by usura
Duccio came not by usura
nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin’ not by usura
nor was ‘La Calunnia’ painted.
Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,
Came no church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.
Not by usura St. Trophime
Not by usura Saint Hilaire,
Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling
Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man’s courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
CONTRA NATURAM
They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet
at behest of usura.

Canto XLV, Ezra Pound

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Ulysses by Tennyson

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Roses are red
Don't play the demo
Chuck Shumer sucks
Release the Memo

Just about anything by Rudyard Kipling

The Gods of the Copybook Headings by Rudyard Kipling is probably one of the most red pilled poems ever written!

This has to have been written by an Australian.

(from Henry V, spoken by King Henry)

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Niggers, always to be avoided, so prone to pull triggers, endeavor to stay 'noided, lest you become another one of those murder rate figures.

FPBP, potato-bro.
Although I have to admit, part of me is disconcerted by seeing an Irishman post the poem about the resolve and martial spirit of the English. It's like seeing Lenny Kravitz denounce race-mixing and screaming that coal-burners and oil-drillers need to be hanged.

No captcha?

yes

"B b"

"B stands for battles,
By which England's name,
Has for ever been covered
In glory and fame."


"C c"

"C is for colonies,
Rightly we boast,
That of all the great nations,
Great Britain has most."

There once was a man from Sweden
The refugee cock he was needin
He invited them in
Now he's no longer Sven
Now he goes by Molly

Molly worked all day and he got home late at night
What he saw filled him with shock and delight
His wife with legs open a refugee boning
As He sat and listened to her moaning

To Molly's horror as the moans got louder
The refugee deposited his baby chowder,
He should have bought a gun
Now he raises his wife's son
And threw out his refugees welcome sign

Wrote this one myself lads

muh dick, quote the nigger, muh dick

Damn well done son, needs to be published all across Europe as a warning from Sup Forumspoet. KEK.