Category: Poetry

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
when God did have his final say,
His justice and mercy each had their way,

The wrath of man did but reflect
The wrath of God in this respect
Forsaken, abandoned — Divine neglect

What horror did then invade the mind
Of He who came His sheep to find
And who paid the debt, for His kind?

But no unwilling victim, this sacrifice
He staged the players as His device
To orchestrate His redemption price

Judas’ sordid kiss of treachery
The disregard of Pilate’s plea
The vision of Mary at His knee

Yearly we call this Friday “good,”
And mark His hanging on the wood
And are nourished with Him as our food

Divine jurisprudence satisfied
His death, the death that His people died
We are the blood flowing from His side

His work still doth intercede
For our access He still doth plead
And for our comfort He remains our need

Impervious to alien guilt and guile
Thrown at us by the Serpent’s wile
Animated only by forgiveness’s smile

Now, at the word of His command
We call for all to meet His demand
Be reconciled, that ye may in judgment stand

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
when God did have his final say,
His justice and mercy each had their way,

Now comes an ending of our faith
And Pastors have led us thus
Positioned as Masters, they’ve wrought thinking disasters
And have been the undoing of all of us
Now comes an ending of our faith

Now comes an ending of our People
And the Clan has brought us here
Lust on demand, so unable to withstand
The assault by pagans and queers
Now comes an ending of our People

Now comes an ending of our Kingdom,
And the State has led us thus
immigrant rate, without debate
but by guile and blunderbuss
Now comes an ending of our Kingdom

Now comes an ending of our money
And the Banksters have brought this end
The ethic of Gangsters, the practice of pranksters
Their villainy doth evil portend
Now comes an ending of our money

Now comes the end of the West
And our treason has brought us here
revolt against reason, treachery in each season
Against God in whom no longer we fear
Now comes the end of the West

So, rejoice in these failings and ends
For God makes all things anew
His Name is at stake, He works all for His sake
There is nothing He can not renew
So, rejoice in these failing and ends

All the revelation remains spoken
But as recipients we are broken
We are barely West anymore
“It stands written” yet remains
But can not crack our studied disdains
We are barely West anymore

All the tales have been spun
Of Battles fought and won
Still, we are hardly West anymore
All the glory and the gain
All the triumph over pain
Still, we are hardly West anymore

All the book and parchment ink
Have failed to connect and link
Us to the West anymore
All the Music and the Scores
No longer cause our souls to soar
For there remains little West anymore

A few Holy Men still proclaim
A few Poets and Musicians still call
A few Historians and Bards still tell our lays
But the mist begins to cover our days
And the new story seems to tell of the fall
Of old Narnia’s dwindling fame

And yet some memory embers warm the chill
Of Western faith and blood that courses still
Our Father’s faith is not finished yet
As determination will not forget
Nor allow the sum of our regret
To rob our courage or steal our will

The West is attacked by Devil hordes
Her fortunes on the wane
Now is the time to sing Battle chords
As we sharpen our disdain
Now is the time when reason like swords
Must increase the Devil’s pain

“Whosoever Will,” thou hast said (John 3:16)
Remind them though that “Whosoever” is dead (Eph 2:1)
Remind them of their hardened hearts (Ex. 9:12, Eph. 4:18)
Which gladly binds them to the Serpent’s stead
And works so the “Whosoever” never starts
To will in favor of a dead “better part”

“Now is the day,” thou hath spoke
But “Whosoever’s” mind is darkened and their nature broke
And as Responsibility does not ability convey
So the dead are not, at a command awoke
And cannot even hear the communique
That would have dead men choose a living way

So, the Will is free, but in bondage spun
It is not of “Whosoever” who wills or runs
The fallen will is only free to act
Consistent with the dead man’s pact
Soaked in Dragon’s milk, sealed with Wormwood tongue

The Stranger visiting my home
Though receiving warm embrace
Understands their role as guests
And that my home is not their place
Understands the visit ends
With dismissing words of grace

The Stranger within my land
Strangers they must remain
Lest my people become the aliens
And my inheritance iron chains
Lest their gods become ascendant
And their seed become our bane

The Stranger is distinct
We extend kindness for God’s sake
But forgetting we are other
Would be a mutually harmful mistake
It would be to forget the proverb
“High fences, good neighbors make