WHAT DO WE WANT?

PSYCHOPHANTS NEUROTIC SERIAL KILLER FELTCHER MEMES

WHEN DO WE WNAT IT?

PASSIVE AGGESSIVELY FROM FAKE JEW DEVILS

WHY DO WE WANT IT?

MUST GIB SHEKELS TO JEW PEEEPEEE TOUCHERS

>>7784995

>>7784992

>ROPE!

>>7784978

>LEATHER!

>>7784970

>SOAP!

>>7784964

>SOUP!

>>7785639

>>7784948

GAYLORD BACON IS LOCALLY SOURCED AND FREE RANGE JOOOOO FAG

>>7784898 (You)

>>7784898 (You)

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784898

>>7784898

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784910

>>7784898

>>7784883

>>7784870

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784858

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784853

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784847

>CODE-WORD

>>7784826

>CODE-WORD

>>7784794

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784803

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784817

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784738

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784691

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784684 <HIGHEST RANKING ANON

>>7784663

>MOAR PROOF THAT BILBO THERAPY WORKS FOR A HOMO JEW MEME ADDICTION

>>7784653

GREAT FILTERS TO NOT GET HYPNOTIZED BY THE NECROPHILIA FAPPERS

>>7784609 WOJACK CONNECTED

>>7784584 VOTE PEDRO

>>7784267 BEWBS!

poe tah toe

>>7786869

these memes are not dank

you paid too much

>>7786933

WHAT DO WE WANT?

PSYCHOPHANTS NEUROTIC SERIAL KILLER FELTCHER MEMES

WHEN DO WE WNAT IT?

PASSIVE AGGESSIVELY FROM FAKE JEW DEVILS

WHY DO WE WANT IT?

MUST GIB SHEKELS TO JEW PEEEPEEE TOUCHERS

>>7784995

>>7784992

>ROPE!

>>7784978

>LEATHER!

>>7784970

>SOAP!

>>7784964

>SOUP!

>>7785639

>>7784948

GAYLORD BACON IS LOCALLY SOURCED AND FREE RANGE JOOOOO FAG

>>7784898 (You)

>>7784898 (You)

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784898

>>7784898

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784910

>>7784898

>>7784883

>>7784870

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784858

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784853

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784847

>CODE-WORD

>>7784826

>CODE-WORD

>>7784794

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784803

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784817

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784738

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784691

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784684 <HIGHEST RANKING ANON

>>7784663

>MOAR PROOF THAT BILBO THERAPY WORKS FOR A HOMO JEW MEME ADDICTION

>>7784653

GREAT FILTERS TO NOT GET HYPNOTIZED BY THE NECROPHILIA FAPPERS

>>7784609 WOJACK CONNECTED

>>7784584 VOTE PEDRO

>>7784267 BEWBS!

poe tah toe

WHAT DO WE WANT?

PSYCHOPHANTS NEUROTIC SERIAL KILLER FELTCHER MEMES

WHEN DO WE WNAT IT?

PASSIVE AGGESSIVELY FROM FAKE JEW DEVILS

WHY DO WE WANT IT?

MUST GIB SHEKELS TO JEW PEEEPEEE TOUCHERS

>>7784995

>>7784992

>ROPE!

>>7784978

>LEATHER!

>>7784970

>SOAP!

>>7784964

>SOUP!

>>7785639

>>7784948

GAYLORD BACON IS LOCALLY SOURCED AND FREE RANGE JOOOOO FAG

>>7784898 (You)

>>7784898 (You)

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784898

>>7784898

>OMG

>ITS KILLIN SNEKS

>SUCH SYMBOLS

>~MOSSAD

>>7784910

>>7784898

>>7784883

>>7784870

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784858

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784853

>MAKE YUGOSLAVIA GREAT AGAIN

>>7784847

>CODE-WORD

>>7784826

>CODE-WORD

>>7784794

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784803

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784817

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784738

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784691

>114,000,000 NATIVE AMERICANS WERE GENOCIDED SO YOU COULD DOXX YOURSELF AND HUFF FARTS TO JEW CROUTON FABLES

>>7784684 <HIGHEST RANKING ANON

>>7784663

>MOAR PROOF THAT BILBO THERAPY WORKS FOR A HOMO JEW MEME ADDICTION

>>7784653

GREAT FILTERS TO NOT GET HYPNOTIZED BY THE NECROPHILIA FAPPERS

>>7784609 WOJACK CONNECTED

>>7784584 VOTE PEDRO

>>7784267 BEWBS!

poe tah toe

look at all those mexicans in that photo

https://twitter.com/Tango_Derp/status/1100900306991276032

for an extra $50 you can watch danielfaggot homo too

The stream is shrunk–the pool is dry,

And we be comrades, thou and I;

With fevered jowl and dusty flank

Each jostling each along the bank;

And by one drouthy fear made still,

Forgoing thought of quest or kill.

Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,

The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,

And the tall buck, unflinching, note

The fangs that tore his father's throat.

The pools are shrunk–the streams are dry,

And we be playmates, thou and I,

Till yonder cloud–Good Hunting!–loose

The rain that breaks our Water Truce.

The stream is shrunk–the pool is dry,

And we be comrades, thou and I;

With fevered jowl and dusty flank

Each jostling each along the bank;

And by one drouthy fear made still,

Forgoing thought of quest or kill.

Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,

The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,

And the tall buck, unflinching, note

The fangs that tore his father's throat.

The pools are shrunk–the streams are dry,

And we be playmates, thou and I,

Till yonder cloud–Good Hunting!–loose

The rain that breaks our Water Truce.

The stream is shrunk–the pool is dry,

And we be comrades, thou and I;

With fevered jowl and dusty flank

Each jostling each along the bank;

And by one drouthy fear made still,

Forgoing thought of quest or kill.

Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,

The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,

And the tall buck, unflinching, note

The fangs that tore his father's throat.

The pools are shrunk–the streams are dry,

And we be playmates, thou and I,

Till yonder cloud–Good Hunting!–loose

The rain that breaks our Water Truce.

Now this is the Law of the Jungle–as old and as true as the sky;

And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.

As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back–

For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;

And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.

The jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,

Remember the Wolf is a hunter–go forth and get food of thine own.

Keep peace with the Lords of the Jungle–the Tiger, the Panther, the Bear;

And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.

When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,

Lie down till the leaders have spoken–it may be fair words shall prevail.

When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,

Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.

The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,

Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.

The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,

The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.

If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,

Lest ye frighten the deer from the crops, and the brothers go empty away.

Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;

But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man.

If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;

Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.

The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;

And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.

The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will,

But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.

Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim

Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.

Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim

One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.

Cave-Right is the right of the Father–to hunt by himself for his own.

He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.

Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,

In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of the Head Wolf is Law.

Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;

But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is–Obey!

The night we felt the earth would move

We stole and plucked him by the hand,

Because we loved him with the love

That knows but cannot understand.

And when the roaring hillside broke,

And all our world fell down in rain,

We saved him, we the Little Folk;

But lo! he does not come again!

Mourn now, we saved him for the sake

Of such poor love as wild ones may.

Mourn ye! Our brother will not wake,

And his own kind drive us away!

Dirge of the Langurs.

Oh, light was the world that he weighed in his hands!

Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands!

He has gone from the guddee and put on the shroud,

And departed in guise of bairagi avowed!

Now the white road to Delhi is mat for his feet,

The sal and the kikar must guard him from heat;

His home is the camp, and the waste, and the crowd–

He is seeking the Way as bairagi avowed!

He has looked upon Man, and his eyeballs are clear

(There was One; there is One, and but One, saith Kabir);

The Red Mist of Doing has thinned to a cloud–

He has taken the Path for bairagi avowed!

To learn and discern of his brother the clod,

Of his brother the brute, and his brother the God.

He has gone from the council and put on the shroud

(“Can ye hear?” saith Kabir), a bairagi avowed!

Veil them, cover them, wall them round–

Blossom, and creeper, and weed–

Let us forget the sight and the sound,

The smell and the touch of the breed!

Fat black ash by the altar-stone,

Here is the white-foot rain,

And the does bring forth in the fields unsown,

And none shall affright them again;

And the blind walls crumble, unknown, o’erthrown,

And none shall inhabit again!

I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines–

I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines!

The roofs shall fade before it,

The house-beams shall fall,

And the Karela, the bitter Karela,

Shall cover it all!

In the gates of these your councils my people shall sing,

In the doors of these your garners the Bat-folk shall cling;

And the snake shall be your watchman,

By a hearthstone unswept;

For the Karela, the bitter Karela,

Shall fruit where ye slept!

Ye shall not see my strikers; ye shall hear them and guess;

By night, before the moon-rise, I will send for my cess,

And the wolf shall be your herdsman

By a landmark removed,

For the Karela, the bitter Karela,

Shall seed where ye loved!

I will reap your fields before you at the hands of a host;

Ye shall glean behind my reapers, for the bread that is lost,

And the deer shall be your oxen

By a headland untilled,

For the Karela, the bitter Karela,

Shall leaf where ye build!

I have untied against you the club-footed vines,

I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines.

The trees–the trees are on you!

The house-beams shall fall,

And the Karela, the bitter Karela,

Shall cover you all!

When ye say to Tabaqui, “My Brother!”

when ye call the Hyena to meat,

Ye may cry the Full Truce with Jacala–

the Belly that runs on four feet.

–Jungle Law

“Respect the aged!”

Once a ripple came to land

In the golden sunset burning–

Lapped against a maiden’s hand,

By the ford returning.

Dainty foot and gentle breast–

Here, across, be glad and rest.

“Maiden, wait,” the ripple saith.

“Wait awhile, for I am Death!”

“Where my lover calls I go–

Shame it were to treat him coldly–

’Twas a fish that circled so,

Turning over boldly.”

Dainty foot and tender heart,

Wait the loaded ferry-cart.

“Wait, ah, wait!” the ripple saith;

“Maiden, wait, for I am Death!”

“When my lover calls I haste–

Dame Disdain was never wedded!”

Ripple-ripple round her waist,

Clear the current eddied.

Foolish heart and faithful hand,

Little feet that touched no land.

Far away the ripple sped,

Ripple–ripple–running red!

These are the Four that are never content,

that have never been filled since the Dews began–

Jacala’s mouth, and the glut of the Kite,

and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man.

–Jungle Saying

Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey-People cry,

Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer,

Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh–

He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!

Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,

And the whisper spreads and widens far and near;

And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now–

He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!

Ere the moon has climbed the mountain,ere the rocks are ribbed with light,

When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear,

Comes a breathing hard behind thee–snuffle-snuffle through the night–

It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go;

In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear;

But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek–

It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pine-trees fall,

When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer;

Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all–

It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap–

Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear–

But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side

Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter–this is Fear!

The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow–

They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go.

The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;

They sell their furs to the trading-post: they sell their souls to the white.

The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler’s crew;

Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.

But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man’s ken–

Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the last of the Men!

–Translation

Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood,

Our furs with the drifted snow,

As we come in with the seal–the seal!

In from the edge of the floe.

Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!

And the yelping dog-teams go,

And the long whips crack, and the men come back,

Back from the edge of the floe!

We tracked our seal to his secret place,

We heard him scratch below,

We made our mark, and we watched beside,

Out on the edge of the floe.

We raised our lance when he rose to breathe,

We drove it downward–so!

And we played him thus, and we killed him thus,

Out on the edge of the floe.

Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood,

Our eyes with the drifting snow;

But we come back to our wives again,

Back from the edge of the floe!

Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!

And the loaded dog-teams go,

And the wives can hear their men come back.

Back from the edge of the floe!

For our white and our excellent nights–for the nights of swift running,

Fair ranging, far seeing, good hunting, sure cunning!

For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed!

For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started!

For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is standing at bay,

For the risk and the riot of night!

For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day,

It is met, and we go to the fight.

Bay! O Bay!

These were my companions going forth by night–

(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)

Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight.

(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)

Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain,

Word I gave them underfoot of buck upon the plain.

Here’s an end of every trail–they shall not speak again!

They that called the hunting-cry–they that followed fast–

(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)

They that bade the sambhur wheel, or pinned him as he passed–

(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)

They that lagged behind the scent–they that ran before,

They that shunned the level horn–they that overbore.

Here’s an end of every trail–they shall not follow more.

These were my companions. Pity ’twas they died!

(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)

Now come I to comfort them that knew them in their pride.

(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)

Tattered flank and sunken eye, open mouth and red,

Locked and lank and lone they lie, the dead upon their dead.

Here’s an end of every trail–and here my hosts are fed.

Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle!

He that was our Brother goes away.

Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle–

Answer, who shall turn him–who shall stay?

Man goes to Man! He is weeping in the Jungle:

He that was our Brother sorrows sore!

Man goes to Man! (Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!)

To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more.