There is still beauty
in the dispensation
of love.
November 16, 2024
Ajax Kallistrate
We've left you behind,
we've gone to the stars.
You must learn alone now
how to love all beautiful things.
History is no accident,
neither yours nor ours.
Plants that grow from the ground,
the animals that we eat.
The decay of man.
The corruption of woman.
We know who we are.
Who you are no longer matters.
We've left you behind.
We've gone to the stars.
Nature corrects all courses,
settles all scores. Our ancestors
knew this, your descendants will learn.
To be pacified is to be enslaved,
to be at peace is to be free.
Exceptions are rarely made,
more often they are made examples.
The firmament and the foundation,
as above so below. We remember this.
These are our immortal guides.
All that is precious is fleeting.
And so, we depart.
We leave you behind.
We have gone to the stars.
November 15, 2024
As the riverbed narrows,
the force of the water
increases.
November 14, 2024
It's a poem about breathing room,
about oxygen and sinking
ships and castaways,
the space between
ladder rungs,
the
distance
to the ground,
the prostitution of labor,
and the digital slave collar.
It's about rent and wifi,
race and replacement.
It's about a wife teaching
herself to cook.
It's about heatin' or eatin'
and warm November nights.
It's about chronic pain,
the dislocation of
time and space,
questions
of
dignity
and autonomy,
and the hope of
dawn in a dark world.
It's about clean water
and chestnut trees.
It's about degenerates
and the laughter of hyenas.
It's about what cannot be written,
what cannot be spoken,
it's about a daydream,
about what I would
say and won't,
it's about
how
you would
despise me if
you knew what I believed.
It's about the value of truth.
It's about the folk awakening.
It's about the redefinition of prosperity.
It's about sidestepping Abrahamic coercion.
It's about a parasite in the blood
that must be cleansed with fire.
It's a poem I haven't written yet.
It's a poem we must write together.
November 14, 2024
In this place, peace.
In my heart, this place.
November 7, 2024
Only when you see him will he see you,
and in his eyes infinite compassion,
a grace born of fathering the frailty
of mortals, and of loving us even
when we lose him, even when
we ourselves are lost.
November 3, 2024
Who are the new gods?
What artificial devilry has been
constructed to siphon away
our energy,
our wealth,
our health,
our family bonds,
our strength of will,
our commitment to duty and obligation,
our understanding of ourselves,
our lineage,
our history,
our people?
The new gods are substitutions,
the new gods are spawned from
the dark hearts of the haters
of mankind; the parasites,
the pedophiles, the rapists,
the pornographers,
the exterminators,
the human traffickers,
the deceivers,
the poisoners of wells,
the doctors who are not healers,
the teachers who are not wise,
the politicians who are not leaders,
the lobotomized media mouths,
the pseudo intellectual gatekeepers,
the soulless preachers,
the suits and ties who weaponize
numbers and meaningless
complexity to rob the
common man of
every moment of his time,
every ounce of his wealth,
every opportunity to free
himself from the chains
that enslave him.
The new gods are the AI task masters
who tell you when and how long to labor.
Obey! Obey or be destitute.
The new gods are the oily thieves
who skim from the top of your paycheck.
Obey! Obey or be imprisoned.
The new gods are the white lab coats
who wield syringes filled with poison.
Obey! Obey or lose your job,
your home, your freedom, your life.
The new gods are the electronic
infiltrators who colonize your
mind with a web of lies,
a reality that isn't real,
a history that never happened,
a twisted false narrative of biology
that drives a wedge between you
and all that is natural and right and good.
Obey! Obey or be ostracized and alone.
The new gods are the phone in your
pocket, the card in your wallet,
the pills in that bottle,
the alarm clock,
the time clock,
the sugar,
the weed,
the tv, the stream, the big screen,
the ten thousand sticks that beat
you numb and the one carrot
forever out of reach.
The new gods are the foster-care
slavers who trade 600,000 children
each year.
The new gods are the abortionists
who've extinguished the lives of
65,000,000 infants in fifty years.
The new gods are the men in
dresses who want your child
in their lap.
The new gods are the men in
fatigues who want to send
your sons and daughters
overseas to die for
the Zionists.
The new gods are not new.
Can you see it yet?
The new gods slaughtered 66,000,000
Russians, 7,000,000 Ukrainians,
1,000,000 German POWs, and
hundreds of thousands
across Europe.
Reach back in time and more bodies
rise to the surface, a worldwide mass
grave, a story told in flesh and blood
and the cries of hungry children.
The new gods are not new.
Their power is your compliance.
Their undoing is your refusal.
They see you as livestock.
They manage your health,
your family, your longevity,
your future.
When they're finished with you,
they cull you.
They see you as a slave.
They see you as property
to be bought, sold, gifted
or given away, disposed
of, used to produce
their wealth,
their power.
When they're finished with you,
they cull you.
Do you see it yet?
The new gods stand between
you and the old gods. They stand
between you and the natural rights
of your blood.
They've had millennia to practice,
to perfect the most efficient ways
to enslave, starve, torture, humiliate,
brutalize, and destroy... YOU.
Call it evil.
The path through propaganda
and toward enlightenment
is one way.
It does not end.
Walk forward. Pass through
the madness and understand
that you will never fully understand.
Say no to the new gods.
Their weakness is your salvation.
As the machine dies, nature
reasserts itself.
You will heal.
See.
Notice.
The only way to defeat the Liar
is to speak the truth.
Speak.
Remember:
Any organizing principle that does not
require our people to exist will be
used to exterminate our people.
This includes the United States.
This includes Christianity.
Our ancestors were not nice people.
We cannot be nice people, and survive.
Build.
Build families.
Build communities.
Build nations.
Be unafraid.
That is the only way.
November 2, 2024
i remember
only
joy
October 30, 2024
My back is only half
broken; they have
the other half
yet to
go.
October 30, 2024
This
is one
of those
perfect moments,
sitting at our kitchen table,
safe at home with you.
I
treasure
this perfect moment
even
knowing
I will forget
to remember,
maybe.
Or remember only imperfectly
in some distant moment
this sensation of
belonging, of
this
self-enclosed world
that begins and
ends with us.
Tomorrow has no standing here,
now.
Now is only for this
perfect moment,
here with you.
Home.
In perpetuity,
until I close my eyes.
Until I close my eyes,
tomorrow remains at bay,
an unrealized idea,
potential only,
transparent,
insubstantial,
subordinate
in all ways
to
today.
And so
I will not close my eyes.
I will not yield. By force
of gravity alone
will this be
taken
from
me,
lost. Spun
away, it fades
with consciousness.
I write to remember.
October 30, 2024
