This web-log, begun in 2011 for the purpose of clarifying the true nature of the work and views of Dr. William Pierce, and to counter misrepresentations thereof, is not affiliated with any organization.
“Who wants to live, so he must fight, and who does not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle does not deserve to live.” - Mein Kampf From National Vanguard tabloid, Issue No. 63, 1978: Sluyterman: Artist of Blood and Soil
Georg
Sluyterman van Langeweyde, a great graphic artist, painter and folksong
composer, died last January at the age of 74 [born: 4/13/1903]. His body was laid to rest
in the German soil of his beloved Lueneburg Heath.
His graphic art combines a respect for the natural wonder of the forest, field and living earth and an admiration for the quiet, patient rural folk character.
In his clear, folk-based art, Sluyterman attacked the twentieth century tendency toward cosmopolitan formlessness and alienation.
In an Sluyterman graphic piece, man is one with nature, and one with his nature. He is not alienated from his surroundings, nor from his own racial soul.
Sluyterman's
style breathes a sense of order and place. His art unifies a natural
realism and a sober idealism; A careful depiction of what is with an
affirmation of what is to be.
His idealism was harmonious with the striving for perfection inherent in nature itself.
Sluyterman's
works convey a joyful affirmation of life. It is not the empty
"happiness" of the rootless Pepsi generation, but the proud feeling of
fulfillment which comes from meaningful accomplishment. His joy in
living sprang from a humble awareness of man's mortal place in the natural order.
Sluyterman
was an artistic personality in the fullest sense of the term. He was
something of a vagabond, who ignored social norms and the conventions of
attire. He didn't care about money or possessions.
As seriously
as he took art, he was personally spontaneous, joyful and fun-loving. He
enjoyed singing among friends in his full, baritone voice.* His warm personality, friendly smile and kind words came from the heart.
Sluyterman's
truly folkloric style won wide appreciation and high recognition. His
masterful linoleum prints were displayed in the prestigious Great German
Art Exhibition held annually in Munich from 1938 to 1944.
He was also an accomplished painter, and his popular country songs became accepted as genuine folk songs during his lifetime.
Sluyterman,
whose ancestors came from Holland, was a great German and European
patriot. He never sacrificed his honor for expediency or financial gain.
H was also no "sunshine patriot." Sluyterman continued to defend his national cultural and
political heritage even after the catastrophe of 1945. He was an active
member of the patriotic German Cultural Foundation of the European
Spirit (Deutsches Kulturwerk Europaeischen Geistes), founded after the
Second World War.
---
* It's assumed that the singer with the "full baritone voice" in this video is Georg Sluyterman:
The photo above is of George Sluyterman, available in a Google Image search. The rarer picture below is not found in an Internet search, but accompanies the article about Mr. Sluyterman in Mortimer Davidson's Kunst in Deutschland 1933-1945, Malerei II, published by Grabert Verlag Tubingen, 1992 (page 425) It is assumed to be a self-portrait since no other artist is credited.
All songs by Joseph Pryce except Horst Wessell Song paraphrased by Joseph Pryce.
Dresden's new album, Call of the Blood, is a new kind of music for White people. Crafted with jewel-like care; with haunting, poetic lyrics; beautiful yet powerful arrangements and instrumentation; and soaring vocals; Call of the Blood combines the best elements of rock and traditional European music. Call of the Blood includes a lyric sheet to help you fully experience the impact of these new, masterfully written and produced songs. Call of the Blood will open a gateway in the minds of Aryan youth to a new and brighter future. – Kevin Alfred Strom
Dedicated to the memory of Ludwig Klages
[For a download link, click on the song-title above the player.]
Raise up the flag, and stand as one, together. Our troops will march with steady, iron tread. Though comrades fall, shot down by leftists and Reaction, They march with us in spirit to the fight.
Clear off the streets, the Brown Battalion marches! The streets are free – the Brown Battalions rule. The sacred flag brings hope to our oppressed millions; The day for freedom and for bread is here.
At last the call to struggle rings out loudly – And we're prepared: we storm into the fight! As Hitler's flag is waving proudly in the bright skies, Our slavery ends forever in this land!
Heart sublime and will so pure, Since your passing we are sure That you light the way To a shining day.
So much courage in your heart. Gave your life that truth might start On her stellar quest. George, you passed the test.
What makes a man give his life for his race? They'd have us vanish from Earth without trace, But you wait in the wings for the moment of our call.
GLR, now the tide is advancing, But we'll all hold the line And rise as one, in the sun. GLR, spare us some of your spirit, For our victory is nigh, And you are here, like a god. George Lincoln Rockwell, come back and save us....
Aryan Sun, shine down on the land; From icy mountains to margin of sand. We've dreamed a dream of what must be – so open your mind and heaven you'll see.
One people, one blood-community In roaring forests and on the sea; The warrior's oath, the mother's smile – soft winds on meadows, mile by mile.
And He is there, behind it all: Purest Idea, commanding Call. The fire of His Mind, the blazing eyes, Gift of the Gods, from bluest skies.
Aryan Sun, shine down on the land; From icy mountains to margin of sand. We've dreamed a dream of what must be – so open your mind, His heaven you'll see....
Jefferson, John C. Calhoun: where did you go, wherever did you go? Washington, and Franklin too, where did you go, wherever did you go? America, I miss you, miss you: I want to come back home. America, I need to see you, I need to come back home. Edgar Poe and Mencken, love you so, I wanted you to know. Ambrose Bierce, and Dr. Pierce – love you so, I wanted you to know.
Arya, Arya, Savitri Devi, Shine like a star....
Get the monkey who's paid to sing, to get a monkey to bear the ring2; Get the stars 'cause they're sure to bring cash to ransom a captured king. Do you have no shame? Who will take the blame?
It's the aliens' turn to be driven into the foaming sea. We will rise and we'll do much more, 'til we're victors from shore to shore. Then we'll stage some trials. Gibbets3 stretch for miles.
We're on the march today to Whidbey Island; we've found a reason to live today, on Whidbey Island. Maybe, now we know just why this young man had to die. He saw the gleaming dawn; he asked the question. We follow him where he's led, O Northern Bastion. Our people must not die; we'll never live a lie. We've built our fires tonight on Whidbey Island. The flames will rise and rise from Whidbey Island. And then the world will know, how from a spark the flames will grow. O Whidbey Island.
Slay, slay the dragon: go, go for, go for the throat. ZOG has me in its power walking on the brink. ZOG tells me what to do and everything I think. ZOG – I awake at night and ZOG is at the door; ZOG – I would free myself, I'm living like a whore.
How can you live with this evil? The tune's been called by the devil. How fares your soul, little citizen? Get off your knees, little citizen!
ZOG – I'm awake and yet I'm walking in my sleep. ZOG – There's a precipice my steps now seem to seek. ZOG – Turn around there is a monster just behind. ZOG – And he's tearing out my will, my heart, my mind.
For blood and for soil, we will work, we will toil; Heaven is born on the Earth. The heroes arise as we shout to the skies: We will now have our rebirth!
You see the smiles you see the bright eyes You hear the laughter reach up to the skies For though we are down, we're not defeated On Desolation Row
And as we stand by the fire, We watch the flames mounting ever higher And if you steel your heart The world will mark its change Every element rearrange.
Though we must all suffer fools, Yet we must never suffer gladly And if you cannot stand with us, Then stand aside – the gates of paradise open wide....
Gods tumble down as the new world reveals its visage And though the flowers droop sometimes, we soothe our minds When winter comes, spring is close behind.
Let the old fools make their deals. Let the old world prepare its exit. We're waiting in the wings right now to show you how A real live Hamlet can take a bow.
Though you walk by the sea of oblivion, keep your eyes on the temples of light. Bear your torch high in front of the wavering crowd. In your hands is the doom of the night.
For many are called, but so few are chosen; you must find the gods we have lost, or never found. Too many have wandered afar from the Northland, you must heed the Call of the Blood.
What my eyes witness now in a prostrate world calls new strength to the Call of the Blood. Nordic honor and dignity flee the Dark, and we're menaced by uprising floods.
Close the ranks, day is dawning throughout the land; the invisible web is now thrown. Seize the monsters and drive them back whence they came, To the womb of the Eternal Unknown.
NOTES:
1. Ariadne: In Greek mythology, the daughter of Minos and Pasiphae, who gave Theseus the thread by which he found his way out of the Labyrinth.
2. Michael Jackson at Elizabeth Taylor's wedding.
3. A reference to The Day of the Rope. See the novel The Turner Diaries by Andrew MacDonald
Take the mask off, let's see what is inside. Plastic demon2, let's see what you would hide. Manila envelope comes to my door, watching me, watching me crawl on the floor. Juli can tell me the truth if I want, and he'll perform any trick, any stunt.
I won't trust any old fox on the heath; I won't give dirty DSJs3 my seat. I wouldn't trust Mr. Suess on his oath: Juli has told me, "Watch out for them both!"
ARYANS: We know we fear you, you tell me – KIKES: Impossible! ARYANS: We would avoid you, you tell me – KIKES: Impossible! ARYANS: Can we avoid you? You tell me – KIKES: Impossible! ARYANS: But we'll destroy you and then you must –
Juli, they beat you4, they f---ed with your pride. Moulies abused you with mouths opened wide. Yet you returned in a plain-paper bag, taller and whiter than Snow-covered crag.
As they strolled through the park near the flashing of the fountains, the full moon shed its light on the lovers as they walked. Sweet was the nighttime to the dreamers; warm is the feeling of new love. But there's a shadow moving swiftly through the darkness – And they are not protected, and they won't see the day.
Danger in Central Park, Zooland, USA, where the primates kill and feast each and every day. Sad, o so sad, but no one complains; Bad, very bad, they should all be in chains.
There's the crunch of the leaves as the killer moves in closer; but they don't seem to hear as he moves toward their tryst. Sweet was the nighttime to the dreamers; warm is the gushing of their blood. Stranger, you must shed a tear for our poor lovers – For they were not protected, and did not see the day....
Big belly bourgeois he sends me my check And if he don't I will narrow his neck For I have emerged in the land of the free With dope for your kids and much money for me
I'll never go – I'm nailed down you know I'll stay 'til the trumpets of doom. Your streets are gold; they're bought and they're sold; Get out of my way, just make room!
I like to party in de daytime I like to party in de nighttime When I wake up I say as I start the new day "I'm so glad that I came to America!"The living is free and my family's with me I'm so glad that I'll never go home.
"Give me your lazy, your botched, and your whores"-- That's what you say as we land on your shores. You are a milk-cow with millions of teats We got the mouths and we sure got the wits.
We'll never go – we're nailed down you know; We'll stay in these well-furnished rooms. Your streets are gold, they're bought and they're sold; Get out of our way; we're your doom!
Walking on a road of fate with head held high We've another sorrow. And since his flame of life was quenched we dread the day – Dread each sad tomorrow.
So in the dark we huddle close in friendship's glow, Guardians of the Order. And those who rave and fume like monsters in the gloom Will receive no quarter.
What are we coming to? What did he ask of you? – of me?
Now, it is a darkling time And it's late, very late, very late. Pass into a cosmic circle of fate Not too late, not too late, For those who train their questing souls for the Day.
And as we gather in the sacred little rooms We are in His presence. We chant the chants and feel the roar of Viking blood Gathered from His essence.
For we must halt the steep decline of humankind. Raise the banner high! We believe that we will fight the final fight Under Nordic skies.
(They called George Bush a sissy, so to increase his popularity ratings and to please his Jewish masters, he rained fire down upon the people of Iraq.)
I dream of White Amerika, aglow with strength and beauty, Where children ramble unafraid and free.
Our women bring forth noble sons to build a world of glory. And daughters weave their magic spells. One day....
I want to live in a White Amerika I'll find my fate in a White Imperium.
Smash the system – Off with their heads.
NOTES:
1. National Socialist official and publisher, ritually murdered for his writings by Jews in 1946. 2. Composer Richard Wagner's term for the Jew. 3. "Department Store Jewess" 4. Streicher was tortured by Negroes at Nuremberg. 5. This sentence was the original title of Mein Kampf.
