Majestic Teutons,
descendants of Wotan
the father of Atlantis,
awake from your slumber.
They who are the pure stock
of the Pleiadian blood,
they who are the alchemical gold
out of the Lemurian animal mix
who created man-coal who walked
out of Africa,
must break the Semitic shackles,
the Semitic shackles of Yahweh.
With the Galdr dance,
and the contemplation of runes,
the great white spirit
decends and fills the solar plexus
with pure heavenly fire.
Sowulo and Thurisaz combined,
fix the volatile,
and the poison of the lower man
is exorcised from our veins.
Ubermensch who break
the eternal round
by denying wyrd
with Seithr trance.
Shine like Baldr before
he was brought down
by the trickery of black Loki.
The Edda prophecies
that after Ragnarok,
Baldr will rise to rule the earth.
For Thor does smash the skull
of the great serpent
who encircles the earth
and squeezes out its life.
For Sahasrara of the Indo-Europenas
named Vethrfolnir
is enflamed
and the lightning of Moilnir
thunders down the nine worlds
of the mind
and crashes through Nidhogg,
out reptile brain,
and awakens our primal being.
Implant into the body computer,
the life program,
the elixir of life, that is the Germanic child.
The great work,
of purifying the body,
turning the body of Ymir
into Freya’s Folkvangr on earth,
so the spirit of Wotan may guide
Us in dances with mead and meat
in the worship of Galdr.
For the walls of our temple
create the space
for reaching past
into the 4th dimensional.
Our Gothi
rend the veil
so we may have
Vanaheim in Midgard.
This blot of blood
to the goddess of love
is laid in respect
on a burning ship.
With Wotan’s mercurian
communication
we spread the word
of the runes’ secret message.
Secret signs of a lost brotherhood,
still shine in the night of black
Saturn,
for those who can see
Sowulo, Sowulo, Sowulo,
enlightened brothers and sisters
feed off the nectar dripping
from Yggdrasil.
There is no home for thee,
Foul accuser,
you who are intoxicated
with brimstone verse
from a hungry Israelite god.
Did Yeshua want the scraps
from the table of the Israelites
to go to us dogs.
Yet you worship
at his feet,
and feed your children
into his thirsty maw.
No angel will stop
you neo-Abrahams;
unless it is we,
the children of Wotan.
the only angels to ever
have graced this beautiful world.
The middle east is carried in your
heart
and turns it black for your own
children.
Loki dances on your back,
and feeds off your suffering.
Is it not his serpent who circles the globe?
Is it not his children who took the hand
of the god of war, leaving us hobbled?
Loki, the Lemurian slime,
has given his nine legged child to be
ridden like a horse by Wotan.
Corpse-father will be a father of you.
For there is no three day slumber
for the savior of Israel.
Once your light is gone,
you will not join us
in Freyas fields of joy,
but will descend into the shadowland of Hel,
until Ragnarok
when even your shadow
shall be lost in non-existence.
All who oppose the Secret Chiefs of
Wotan’s Tribe,
Your efficacy is henceforth directed
towards the hierarchy’s ends.
Any action against his priests
is bound,
your lies no longer have power here.