Mike Wilson - Time For Change

TIME FOR CHANGE 

A Poem by Mike Wilson

The wind is rustling through the leaves and close at hand a Blackbird sings.

A myriad ferns spread out their fans to catch a glimpse of summer’s hand.

A silent shadow moves this way to catch his prey and feed this day

But Blackbird’s warning gives the clue that helps the hunted live anew.

So here we see life’s lessons taught and heed the warnings that we ought

To listen to the world around, yes, listen for that warning sound.

Don’t get complacent day by day as all our rights are stripped away

But be aware of changing laws that have exposed the EU’s flaws.

The rabbit runs to save his life and hops and bounds away from strife

Whilst we just sit and watch strife come and let the other’s will be done.

We know full well our hands are tied and see our problems multiplied

As powerless we wait our fate against the Muslims at the gate.

The force of nature does not change yet humans think we can arrange

The world to be a different place, without regard to hue or race.

We forgot what evolution told - that survival is for the very bold.

Our race is under strong attack, should we accept or just fight back?

Forget the trite attempts by those we really should regard as foes

Who tell us that the meek will win and being strong is just a sin.

By being meek and standing back we find ourselves to be attacked

So forget about the other cheek and letting others think us weak.

It’s time for nature to take its course and it’s time for us to fight because

Without us fighting back in strength these mobs will go to any lengths

To keep us down and drown us out by shouting ‘Racist’ all about.

The time has come, we’ve had enough, it’s time for us to cut up rough!

For us to keep our country clear we need to clean it every year.

We need to take our country back from those without the will to act.

We need to take the rubbish out and clean the place, there is no doubt

That politics won’t give a hand, to recover our ancestral land.

Democracy has had its day and the one party state is here to stay

So what will you do to put things right other than begin to fight?

Copy nature stop being weak and stop turning the other cheek.

Start making moves to put things right, bring these problems into the light.

New Year Resolution by Mike Wilson

 

New Year Resolution 

By Mike Wilson

The year is coming to an end and now it’s time to make and mend
And make good all that’s gone before and never mind the open door.
It’s time to set our house in order and close the book on rank disorder.
Time to think and time to plan and time to resurrect each man.

We ask ourselves, “What have we done”, and wonder where the year has gone.
And then we find that whilst we mused so many of us were abused
By state and council and by church and end up feeling in the lurch.
So stop your musing, get in line and start to make this life divine.

Defend the rights of common man, stand up, speak out, you know you can.
Demand they change these stupid laws that make a mockery, full of flaws
Of social justice, law and order and whatever else they call disorder.
It’s nothing but a thin disguise to simply qualify all their lies.

We ask for nothing but the truth so we can help our rampant youth
So they may understand the plan which makes a slave of common man.
Self- serving people in the know control our world and make it so
That others who are less observing give in to those who are self serving.

It’s time we voted with our feet and showed the “pollies” that defeat
Will come if they persist in trying to keep the flag of Brussels flying.
Now it’s time for nationhood, a quality that’s misunderstood
By MP’s filling up the ranks and building credit in their banks.

We need to vote for people here who have the nation’s interests clear
And won’t resile from hard reforms that go against the EU’s norms.
So greet the New Year with good grace and have a smile upon your face.
Remember that you have the power to change your world – seize the hour!

Rap Crap by Mike Wilson

RAP CRAP.

By Mike Wilson

Gyrate to the music man
And let me show to all my fans
That rappin’ is a way of life
And helps avoid the daily strife.

Watch me as I spin around
Moving to the tribal sound.
Come on man, this is really cool
But don’t anyone take me for a fool.

My words all rhyme, there ain’t a doubt
And this is what it’s all about.
No sense in wasting years for learning
When I buy cars with what I’m earning.

I never bothered with ABC
And school has never been good for me
But what I’ve got is mine for keeps
A talent that’s admired heaps.

The kids they try and copy me
And watch my gigs on free TV.
I’m not concerned they give up school
And yes they think it’s very cool.

As long as I can spell my name
I’ll sign the contract once again.
See, I’m a rap star, that’s the thing
See what I’m wearing, that’s my bling.

I couldn’t care about the nation
And what’s all this about inflation?
Man, buy my records won’t you please
I’m getting used to this life of ease.

You guys out there are quite a pain
If you think I’m getting on the dole again.
You hear my words, you buy the disc
This life is easy man, no risk.

Just give me money round the clock
And I will give you rap that rocks.
And in ten years when I’m all done
I’ll just spend money havin’ fun.

So sure I got more stuff than you
But that’s what you’ve all made me do.
You want to see me spend my money
The papers say I’m kind of funny.

I’m a star, the kids all know it-
And as a star I got to show it.
Big house, big car and girlfriend too
Man, as a rapper there’s nothing I can’t do.

A nine to five job, that’s a laugh;
I’ve got 5 people on my staff.
So come on kids give up on culture
Become a rap star – life is ultra.

Run to the hills, run for your life

Run to the hills, run for your life

A poem by Pym Purnell

Black man came across the sea
He brought us pain and misery
He killed our tribes, he killed our creed
He took our game for his own need

We fought him hard we fought him well
Out on the plains we gave him hell
But many came too much for ME
Oh will we ever be set free?

Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes
Galloping hard on the plains
Chasing the Whiteskins back to their holes
Fighting them at their own game
Murder for freedom a stab in the back
Women and children and cowards attack (does this ring any bells)

Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives

Soldier blue in the barren wastes
Hunting and killing their game
Raping the women and wasting the men (does this)
The only good English are tame
Selling them whiskey and taking their gold
Enslaving the young and destroying the old (does this)

Run to the hills, run for your lives

World Control - a Poem by Mike Wilson

WORLD CONTROL

By Mike Wilson

I’m really at a loss to know
What winds the world and makes it go.
From alien minds to Zionist plots -
These thoughts of mine don’t help a lot.

I only know that what I read
Seems so clear cut and fits the deed
Of what has gone before, it’s true;
So let me try to educate you.

Now David Icke was almost right
But ‘reptilians’ seems quite a hike
From simple theories to conspire
Just to add more fuel to fire.

My theory is that world control
Is run by people with no soul.
No soul for things which we hold dear,
Which get despoiled year by year.

These people run our lives so well
But in fact it’s just a total sell.
There’s nothing we do by free will
And our conditioning goes on still.

The people who control our lives
Control the press and through that thrive
On making us do what they will -
No wonder our world is so ill!

Not only is the media theirs
But also banks and business shares.
Their cartels form to shape the world
And we, their pawns by them are hurled,

Into the next great battlefield.
We fight for one side or the other
But they support both sides to smother
Ideas that they are our brother.

So who are they, these nameless men
Who change the fate of nations then
Instill a mood of optimism
Before producing one more schism?

The countless theories that I’ve heard
Pass from sublime to just absurd.
But what most certainly fits the bill –
A covert grab that’s growing still.

These nameless men and all their tribes
Come down through history with their bribes
Of money which they made from us
By their extraordinary usuary-ness.

The protocols these men hold dear
Have been refined for year on year
And we the poor unknowing fools
Have now become their daily tools.

The Jews were thrown from Englands’ gate
By giving barons cause to hate
The way they used to rob the poor
So King John simply showed the door.

It was Cromwell with his plan for power
Allowed them back to win the hour.
And ever since, these Zionist men
Have planned to rule us once again.

They have done it skillfully year by year
Changing their identity so it wasn’t clear
That when they made it to the top
They weren’t opposed and didn’t stop.

As years went by they wound their way
Into the fabric of our day
By being teachers, judges ,cops.
A subterfuge that never stopped.

Today their Zionist plan is clear
And we the Goyim have to fear
That when they have the total hold
We’ll have no voice to shout or scold.

Their plan has been in place for years
Their God the Lucifer of all our fears.
The world is held tight in their grasp
So no more questions-don’t ask.

Just live your lives as you see fit
And don’t question any part of it.
If you do you’ll see we are in thrall-
Just read the words of Harold Wallace Rosenthal!

WHITEY

“WHITEY”

By Mike Wilson

There is a man called Whitey
Who lives down on my street.
He’s always nice and pleasant
But he is kind of unique.

My neighbour on the one side
Is a very righteous man.
He prays to Mecca every day
But really hates his Uncle Sam.

My other neighbor Joseph
Is something of a bore
‘Cos he’s got lots of children
And his wife’s just making more.

The family across the road
Are sometimes very nice
And I really try to help them
Accept our way of life.

I don’t always wear a turban
When I go off to school
And my long hair is a talking point
But I think I’m really cool.

My dad is on the bus route
Six days of the week.
And he’s working really very hard
To keep this country Sikh.

At school they talk in English
Which is really rather sad,
‘Cos all my mates and me
Talk the talk from Hyderabad.

There’s a removal van at Whitey’s
I saw from down the road.
They haven’t put much in it
It’s just a little load.

I wonder where they’re going now
It all seems odd to me
To leave a lovely street like this
And such good company.

My dad says that they’re all to blame
For the mess the country’s in.
There’s still too many of them here
But in time we will win!

IS THERE A LEADER AMONGST US?

A poem by Mike Wilson

The lives of Britons everywhere have changed beyond compare

To what they used to be and now we just live in despair.

We have no one to lead us away from the abyss,

We have no saviour in this world but we know something’s amiss

We really need a leader to change our world for good-

A leader who espouses truth like all good leaders should.

A leader who can change this country back to what it was –

A leader who has strength of mind to fight for Britain’s cause.

Let’s be done with corrupt pollies living off the public purse.

Let’s be done with black migration that’s become a national curse.

Let’s be done with shadow figures controlling all our lives,

Let’s just get back to honesty, hard work and peace of mind.

The nameless men in Europe now decide how we should live.

Why should we let these foreigners dictate our way of life?

If Britons never never, never, never, shall be slaves

How come we rush to do their bidding when Briton rules the waves?

We can’t speak out against our foes and we’re vilified if we try,

Yet minority groups can blindly shout and make a noise to drown us out.

Freedom of speech is a grand expression, one hears it often amongst the depression.

But there’s one little word that has changed all our lives and that word is racist – the start of all lies.

The lives of true Britons are under the yoke, their fates are decided, their future bespoke.

This once great proud country is enmeshed in chains forged by the nameless who hold all the reins.

The doctrine they teach all our children at school has cheapened our history and made them a tool

For the changing of Briton away from the light, whose history is lost in the darkness of night.

Do we have to accept this proud nation’s demise and sit meekly by whilst the pollies tell lies?

Do we have to accept that there’s nought to be done and as a nation this is what we’ve become?

We need a new leader to rise to the front where freedom and truth won’t be just a stunt.

A rallying cry to take to the fore that Britons will never be slaves anymore.

Grumpy Old Man

By Mike Wilson

I’m getting old and grumpy

At least that’s what I’m told

And I’m feeling pretty buggered

‘Cos I’ve never been so old.

My left hip aches, my knee is sore,

My joints are creaking badly.

But someone’s put the kettle on

And I will join them, gladly.

Around the table we will sit

And talk about the past.

We don’t talk about the future

We don’t know how long we’ll last.

Some talk about their kids and stuff

And others play the pools.

Whilst others talk about their wealth

And make us feel like fools.

We all went out last week you know

Down to the RSL.

And Bill he plays the pokies

And he gets the winning bell.

So up he jumps with pockets full

Of other people’s money

And dares to tell us he is rich.

And we don’t think it’s funny.

And so today he still goes on

About his sudden wealth

Whilst we thinks about our pension

And our current state of health.

Next time we’re on an outing

I’m sitting next to Fred

‘Cos he and I can have a beer

And let Bill have his head.

And when it’s done and he is broke

As he sure to God will be

We’ll sit there and remind him

Wealth don’t come naturally.

Britain - a poem by Mike Wilson

Britain

By Mike Wilson

Land of my fathers, land of the free

How desperate your needs are, as we can see.

No longer the gentle free land of my birth,

You are now just a zoo with the hordes of the earth.

The traitors amongst you have destined your fate

And though some can see this it’s really too late

To change what you won’t acknowledge

And really don’t care, that life in Great Britain is changed beyond repair.

This influx of peoples from all around the earth

Has so changed this country, the land of my birth.

So I’m forced to the question of how it can be

That this passive resistance is just apathy?

We’ve fought two world wars for this country of ours

But now just give in and while away the hours?

Our past generations gave blood for our freedom-

Was all that in vain, without any reason?

No man is my equal when all round I see

The peasant and pauper all crowding round me.

We feed them and clothe them and house them as well

But never see results of their labour and toil.

So we give away our country because it is right

To help the weak and the vanquished in true Christian light.

And in the spirit of giving and aiding the weak

Our land is usurped, but we don’t see the link.

And soon when the numbers become very great

Our society is changed with the hordes at the gate.

Our churches are renamed with Islamist cause

And Sharia headlines are in our new laws.

And so gentle people your lives are now changed

And you’ve only yourselves, yes you people to blame.

You have let love and compassion become your new cause

And as a result now have sharia laws.

When will you wake up to the problems around you

And stop all your leaders with laws that confound you?

Don’t let the white race with it’s purity diluted

Become just another genealogy disputed.

-/-

Genocide - a poem by Mike Wilson

GENOCIDE

By Mile Wilson

The restless shadows flit across the scene

And from within a shout, a cry - a scream.

And figures black across the dark of night

Merge back into the shadows and take flight.

The morning brings the grim and grisly find-

The death and horror that the night has left behind.

The Afrikaner farmer and his wife

Both maimed and butchered with no sign of life.

All these lives taken make us cringe inside

Because we know that this is genocide.

The death and strangulation of a nation

In truth is nothing but abomination.

The deaths of farmers daily just mounts higher

As politicians keep fuelling the fire.

One Boer one bullet is the mindless shout

And daily this becomes a bloody rout.

The black police are rarely to the fore

When all their brethren knock at whitey’s door.

Shout justice for the farmers – there is none

Except the cold hard fact to own a gun.

These farms supported all – both white and black

But now these farmers have to face attack –

Not just from peasants with an eye for land

But from the politicians grubby hand.

“The land must be divided for common good”

(This is why Zimbabwe imports food.)

Attacks on whites will never really stop

And Africans will never learn to crop.

Whilst politicians keep their brethren poor

The black distrust of whites will grow the more.

For whites, the harmony which they once had

With their own land is now gone bad.

For their future’s sake and that of all their kids

They must make plans and very soon to rid

Themselves of this ongoing evil –

And find some place where justice will prevail!

-/-

The Media - a poem by Mike Wilson

The media controls our life,
Directs our thoughts, explores the strife
Of little things that don’t deserve
To be expanded with such verve.

The general public does its best
To sift the news and leave the rest
Inconsequentially to those
Whose income is from talk back shows.

We watch the programmes on TV
Like ACA and ABC
And wonder how they can survive
Exploring peoples troubles live.

They squeeze the utmost from the show,
The tragedies that we should know,
Of human suffering and despair,
Pathos and drama fill the air.

The show concludes with cheery chat
But you‘re upset, you kick the cat.
How can they play emotions so
Then have the gall to end the show?

The matter really is you see
That Today Tonight and ABC
Have found a way to make a buck
Exploiting those down on their luck.

The TV news can also make
A minor fray into a quake
Of epic size and moment ,then
Reverse it and go back again.

The poor old public never knows
Who tugs the ring that’s through their nose.
They’re fed the news with just a hint
That all is truth and light in print.

We see the policeman in the frame
Abusing some unfortunate dame.
We are not told, at least not loud,
That she is from the ‘Rent a Crowd’

The cameras click the presses run
We see the action as it’s done.
It fills the TV screen each night,
The journo’s think it’s dynamite.

Alas in truth it isn’t much,
A rented crowd, some toughs and such
Who gather round to make a noise
Which ends up sold by paper boys.

The people have a right to know
The truth and that it will be so.
Not facts embellished by the yard
Because the media think it’s hard

To sell their wares as they appear
Quite unattractive year by year.
Give us the means to be selective
Not half the truth that’s re-directed.

The people who control the press
Can easily create a mess
For politicians starting out
And wondering what to shout about.

A man elected by his peers
Is supposed to serve for years,
Doing his constituents proud
By voicing his opinions loud.

If he appears to be a leader
The papers want him for their reader,
But he must do as he is told
Or paper headlines scream and scold.

So it becomes a fight, the roughest
To see who can survive the toughest.
But in the end it can be seen
The deadly papers rule serene.

The media controls our lives,
Our politics, the cars we drive.
We must be careful in our reading-
Not let the papers do spoon feeding.

Read the papers once a day
And throw the trashy ones away.
Educate ourselves to think;
Refuse to follow gossips stink.

Base all our judgements on the truth
And give more credence to our youth.
Theirs is the future for this land,
Let’s hope they make the media grand

Africans - a poem by Mike Wilson

AFRICANS

The African and all his tribe are waiting at the door-

Waiting for a handout – for the world to give them more.

We’ve given so much in the past, we cannot count the cost,

Yet still they come and gather – a race that’s somehow lost.


We gave to Ethiopia at least 30 years ago,

But in that time what have they done to help themselves to know?

They sat back in their compounds and made babies every day –

Instead of rolling up their sleeves and learning to make hay.


Now a score or more years later, the population’s spread

It’s almost twice now what it was – around 40 million head.

And still the tribes are gathering – their needs are just the same-

How come they haven’t learned to act - to work and play the game?


The suffering children that we see with civil libs and on TV

Just carries on without a break, a tribute to our empathy.

They don’t have the ability to work or plan ahead –

They only know they’ll take what’s mine, especially if I’m dead!


Why must we keep repeating the same old lessons through

The years and not learn by our mistakes, just what we never knew –

That Africans are not the same as western whites – it’s true,

And until some start believing this, there’s really nothing we can do!

___________

More of Mike's poems will be posted over the next few days