The world was young, the mountains green No stain yet on the moon was seen No word was laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone He named the nameless hills and dwells He drank from yet untasted wells He stooped and looked in Mirrormere And saw a crown of stars appear As gems upon a silver thread Above the shadow of his head
The was fair, the mountains tall In Elder Days, before the fall Of might kings in Nargothrond And Gondolin, who now beyond The Western Seas have passed away The world was fair in Durin's day
A king he was on carven throne In many pillared halls of stone With golden roof and silver floor And runes of power upon the door The light sun and star and moon In shining lamps of crystal hewn Undimmed by cloud or shade of night There shone forever, fair and bright
There hammer on the anvil smote There chisel clove, and graver wrote There forged was blade, and bound was hilt There delver mined the mason built. There beryl, pearl and opal pale And metal wrought like fishes mail Buckler and corset, axe and sword And shining spears were laid in horde.
Unwearied then were Durin's Folk Beneath the mountain music woke The harpers harped, the minstrels sang And at the gates the trumpets rang
The world is grey, the mountains old The forge's fire is ashen cold No harper harps, no hammer falls The darkness dwells in Durin halls A shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dûm But still the sunken stars appear In dark and windless Mirrormere There lies is crown in water deep Till Durin wakes again from sleep
Eli Lewis
Here I sit My ass a flex'n Giving birth To another Texan
Get fucked you traitorous cowards.
Luke Brooks
...
Colton Ramirez
De Wet he is mounted, he rides up the street The English skedaddle an A1 retreat! And the commander swore: They've got through the net That's been spread with such care for Christiaan De Wet.
There are hills beyond Winburg and Boers on each hill Sufficient to thwart ten generals' skill There are stout-hearted burghers 10,000 men set On following the Mausers of Christiaan De Wet.
Then away to the hills, to the veld, to the rocks Ere we own a usurper we'll crouch with the fox And tremble false Jingoes amidst all your glee Ye have not seen the last of my Mausers and me!
Blake Reed
It really upsets me that Holla Forums doesn't want to answer my sincere question here. Yes, I phrased it in a funny way (I like humor). But I seriously want to know: why would Kipling make a brown Indian boy the protagonist of his novel, when he could have easily made it a white British child? That seems a little inconsistent with his racial beliefs.
Zachary Jackson
"The Stranger" recited by William Luther Pierce.
Leo White
Now that's a good poem.
Hudson Cox
I really like his poem The Gods of the Copybook Headings, especially these lines:
As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man There are only four things certain since Social Progress began. That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire, And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins, As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
