It is Five Minutes to Midnight, Europe
Noted Irish writer and poet speaks out
by Mike Walsh
HELLO, wherever you are and whoever you are. I am Michael Walsh, the Irish writer and poet. I passionately believe in the integrity and the conservation of all races, ethnicities, cultures and religions. These are concepts granted to us by divinity, by history and fate, not those with a long-term political agenda of race destruction.
It is my belief that our African, Asian, European and indeed all peoples, are entitled to their exclusivity. They are entitled to their freedom to worship and they are entitled to preserve their own kind and their own culture.
As a race conservationist it is my belief that those who, through a policy of race-mixing propaganda, brainwashing and coercion, destroy ethnic peoples, they are the true race haters.
The Celts, Slavs, Teutonic and other European peoples, who make up the peoples of the politically divided nations of Europe, are today under great threat. Like South Africa’s Whites, Native Americans, the Maoris of New Zealand, the Tibetans and the Native Australians, the end of the European peoples, who now make up only 8% of the world’s population of 7 billion souls, is openly discussed as though it was inevitable.
My friends, whoever you are, wherever you are, it is now five minutes to midnight. In many European cities our betrayed peoples are already outnumbered and segregated into ghettos, into reservations. They have become second-class citizens in their own lands; their protests are silenced by media censorship, by political correctness, coercion, fines and imprisonment. Who, my friends, of whatever race or creed you are, can accept such discrimination? It is my belief that humanity needs the preservation, not the willful destruction, of any of its peoples.
The destruction of the European peoples is not inevitable; the threat is the lack of will to identify the danger and the fear to deal with it. I am proud to be, not a race-hater, but a RACE CONSERVATIONIST.
I do hope you enjoy the sentiments expressed in my verse, whoever you are, wherever you are.
THE EMBERS OF EUROPE ARE DYING
The Embers of Europe are dying,
The phoenix is sleeping in peace,
But no rest for the peoples of Europe,
The nations that bankers must fleece;
No peace from political traitors,
There’s never respite from their wars;
Now the Embers of Europe are dying,
Invaders are kicking its doors.
The flickering flames of revival,
Snuffed out by the treacherous few,
Curtains are falling on Europe,
Poisoned by media’s brew,
Snared by the tricks of the plotter,
Corrupted by men bearing gold,
As the darkness descends upon Europe,
The embers are fast growing cold.
The Embers of Europe are dying,
Now who shall breathe life to the flame?
The beacons once lit by its savior,
Who mustn’t be mentioned by name.
His beacon is still shining brightly,
A signal that shows us the way,
The Embers of Europe will flicker,
If true men will enter the fray.
WHO WILL SPEAK FOR EUROPE
Will no one speak for Europe,
We are a special breed,
So many stoop to denigrate,
Pour scorn upon our seed,
But who will stand and speak for us,
Before we’re trampled in the dust, Oh, such a tragic fate.
There’s just one sin upon the earth,
Now others hold the sway,
To stand and say the White man,
Is yet to have his day,
Offend religion, slur belief,
In Europe you will come to grief,
If you but speak the truth.
WILL STARS CONTINUE SHINING
Will stars continue shining,
When Europe is no more,
Will sunsets and the sunrise,
Be as they were before?
Those stars shone down on Europe’s Rome,
On Greece, the Parthenon;
But will they still be shining,
Once the Europeans are gone?
The stars stand silent witness,
To the legends over time;
The men who built our empires,
Till order ran in rhyme
In harmony with ancient lore,
Change will be but as before,
Europe lives for evermore,
Was that but just our dream?
I scarce can bring myself to think,
The pain and degradation,
To see the remnants of our folk,
Confined to reservation,
Like native others in past time,
For us the stars no longer shine,
Will this be drunk as bitter wine,
What cenotaph for us?
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Source: Renegade Tribune