Friday, 23 October 2009

For Nick Griffin

By Mark Cantrell

A land where the white man
Rules supreme,
Where no skin tone
Deemed too dark ever sullies
The eyes of Avalon’s
‘Aryan Race’.

Imagine this Albion,
Cleansed of foreign intrusion,
Where no multi-cultural
Taint will ever again stain
The grace of Anglo-Saxon

Consider this England,
Where no foreign race
Mingles its face,
Amidst the monotony of pale,
Where one people, one kind,
One nation,
Shouts it roar of triumphant regale.

Foresee this Sceptred Isle,
Where hatred stamps its feet
To the bitter tune
Of purity’s jackbooted march,
Where rage sings its song, dancing
A stomping frenzy on the relics
Of proud diversity, here at home
And abroad.

Consider this dream,
This England...

And shove it...

For it is not my dream,
It is not my hope,
To live in a future
Ethnically cleansed,
Brutalised and diminished,
So culturally eviscerated,
That it dies
To a state of wasteland.

This England – not!

Mark Cantrell,
23 September 2009

Copyright © September 2009. All Rights Reserved.

Category: POETRY



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