Jakob Wilhelm (Willy) Meller’s Sportlerrelief at the Ordensburg Vogelsang, a beautiful sculpture of German athletes, is shown here before and after the occupation by American soldiers. A perfect example in photos of the two polar forces that exist on this plane, the angelic and the demonic.
On one hand, in 1938, we see the angelic reflected in the upward-bound culture of Germany and the NSDAP, a people that seeks glory and the perfection of human spirit through beauty and creation, unity through brotherhood and harmony with nature.
On the other hand, in the post-war occupation, we see the perfect example of the spiritually-dead anti-culture of the All-lies and its people: ugliness and nihilism through blind destruction and the perversion of the lifeblood.
In the act of riddling a majestic sculpture with bullets, we see the sad jealousy of soulless minions who in the dark recesses of their petulant, decaying minds are still somehow cognizant of the fact that they cannot and will not ever reach these grandiose heights of beauty and heavenly nobility. These retarded hordes of the Demiurge continue to annihilate our earth to this day, unabated and unpunished, with their endless wars, profane media, and demonic perversions!
But unlike them, we can hear the voice of Blood and we can hear the voices of our brothers calling from the grave. We eagerly await the swinging blade of Kalki to finally put this pathetic world out of its misery!
Heil Hitler !
Being born means that you have been selected for the Holy War.
That you are born means that you have been specially selected by the Gods, and your Aryan lifeblood is your sword in hand!
Be at the ready from the cradle to the grave. Count your breaths for they were counted by the Gods before you were born. Choose your steps wisely for your footsteps are few and were counted by your Ancestors before you were born.
Don’t let the wrinkles set in lest your Kamerads think that you did not give it your all. Scars mean something, but sacrifice at a young age sets your place in eternity.
Walhalla is only for the few and far between. And Walhalla is full of your brothers in the SS. How can there be a place for you?
Don’t rest your head until you’ve dug some graves. Don’t luxuriate in sleep until you’ve heard your enemies choke on their blood.
Don’t stop to smile until you’ve regained a bit of soil for the Fatherland. Don’t stop to laugh until you’ve made the Fuhrer smile.
Don’t let the sun set until you’ve proven you’re worth the sun’s rays.
Don’t die until you’ve lived to fight the Holy War!
Heil Hitler, Father of the Blue Beyond! May the Light from your eyes guide our very path!
New Release of the Third Edition of Son Of The Widower & Interviews With Miguel Serrano.
Available now in softcover paperback, for purchase details please email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Blurb from the back cover:
“In this profound philosophical discourse, Miguel Serrano investigates and elucidates the past, present and future of the Aryan West; its intrigues, imaginations and dark myths, bringing in to question its very foundations, penetrating the shadowy illusions that have previously been taken for solid truths and infallible dogma and boldly reassessing the “2000 year” chronological basis that has provided the framework for all human endeavour and the spiritual world of man. The historical basis with its epistemologically established system comes crashing down, the pillars of the “Temple Construct” crumble and the previously, blindly accepted, religious, philosophical and scientific dogmas are shattered. In this New Reformation, a New Cosmogony is announced and formed… Something even able to illuminate the darkest…
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Obliteration Ritual – by leuchovius’ ghost
All existence here on this place is indeed a diabolical mockery:
A wedding of the impure and the degraded blood to
vile sheaths of weak and wicked flesh,
de-spirited junk enclosed in walking, crypt-like cavities.
These, who are dazzled and dazed to the putrid, purple sounds
of their own voices, volumes and volumes of vacant lies,
the fate of every one of these abominations:
We shall sink them one and all back into the cold, hard ground.
They, who are condemned by their own sick and venal commingling,
who are created only for the final and holy obliteration ritual.
Silence awaits them as a tomb with open arms,
Angels sing in the glorious heavens to purify this misbegotten, earthen ring.
For very far away, there is a hatred buried deep below the sparkling snow,
ancient relics forgotten in the infinite tundra, ancestral fields.
Yes, we disciples of the blue blood lay in wait,
Frozen beneath the years and sheets of arctic ice with silver blades aglow.
Sieg Heil !