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Ezra Pound

1885-1972


Ezra Pound: Erased From History

 

by Mike King

We got a lot of positive feedback after quoting the great Ezra Pound in our piece titled "Who Murdered England?"  (here) -- so we figured, why not do a whole piece on this forgotten literary legend? And here it is ---


Ezra Pound (1885-1972) was a world-renown expatriate American poet who, when it came to writing, emphasized the importance of clarity, precision and, most of all, economy of language. Pound worked as a literary editor in London during the early 20th century, where he mentored and helped to promote now famous contemporaries of his such as T. S. Eliot, James Joyce, Robert Frost and Ernest Hemingway. Angered by Britain's role in starting World War I and disillusioned by the aftermath, Pound left for Italy in 1924. He blamed the war on Jewish finance capitalism, and embraced the fascism of Italy's new leader, Benito Mussolini. Later on, Pound expressed support for Adolf Hitler, and wrote for publications owned by the British fascist Sir Oswald Mosley. As you might expect, media outlets such as Time Magazine began taking cheap shots at the ex-pat literary genius. A 1933 article smeared Pound as: "a cat that walks by himself, tenaciously unhousebroken and very unsafe for children."

Fine and famous writers such as Frost, Elliot, Hemingway and Joyce came to Pound for literary coaching. How is it that their name recognition and awards, as the years passed, came to exceed that of Ezra Pound's? They are all honored on U.S. postage stamps (Joyce in his native Ireland), but Pound the master never was.

During World War II, Pound made radio broadcasts criticizing Franklin Demono Roosevelt and the Jews controlling him. Because of his "treason," he was arrested in 1945 by the invading American forces. Pound spent several months in detention in a U.S. military camp in Pisa, including three weeks in a 6-by-6-foot outdoor steel cage. The abuse triggered a mental breakdown, which he later described as "when the raft broke and the waters went over me." The following year Pound was deemed unfit to stand trial, and incarcerated in St. Elizabeth's psychiatric hospital in Washington, D.C.


During his 12 years in the psych ward, Pound published portions of The Pisan Cantos (1948), for which he was awarded the prestigious Bollingen Prize in 1949 by the U.S. Library of Congress. This "controversial" award greatly displeased the (((usual suspects))). Mainly due to a campaign by fellow artists, Pound was finally released from St. Elizabeth's in 1958. He returned to live in Italy -- greeting his adopted country with the stiff-armed fascist salute. He died there in 1972.


Though his name is still somewhat recalled in literary circles, in terms of name recognition among the general reading public, he doesn't even come close to some of the above-mentioned writers that he mentored -- men who regraded him as superior. And forget about ever seeing his works in High School and most universities. That would be too "controversial," dontch'a know.


To best illustrate both the musical clarity of Pound's prose as well as his righteous hatred for the International Cabal -- as well as (((their))) hatred for him, RHC presents the full script of one of his radio addresses on the subject -- a masterpiece of both literature and history.

"Usury is the cancer of the world, which only the surgeon’s knife of Fascism can cut out of the life of the nations." --  Ezra Pound // "What is Money For?"

1. Though an ex-pat for 34 years, Pound was still charged with treason. // 2. While in St. Elizabeth's, the "crazy" Pound produced "The Cantos" -- considered by his literary peers to be among his finest work. // 3. Old and free in his beloved Italy, Pound gives the fascist salute.

Broadcast from Rome / March 15, 1942

(Pound is addressing England)


The enemy is Das Leihkapital (loan capital). Your Enemy is Das Leihkapital, international, wandering Loan Capital. Your enemy is not Germany, your enemy is money on loan. And it would be better for you to be infected with typhus, and dysentery, and Bright’s disease, than to be infected with this blindness which prevents you from understanding how you are undermined, how you are ruined.


The big Jew is so bound up with this Leihkapital that no one is able to unscramble that omelet. It would be better for you to retire to Darbyshire and defy New Jerusalem, better for you to retire to Gloucester and find one spot that is England than to go on fighting for Jewry and ignoring the process.


It is an outrage that any clean lad from the country — I suppose there are still a few English lads from the country — it is an outrage that any nice young man from the suburbs should be expected to die for Victor Sassoon, it is an outrage that any drunken footman’s byblow (bastard child) should be asked to die for Sassoon.


As to your Empire, it was not all of it won by clean fighting. But however you got it, you did for a time more or less justify keeping it, on the ground that you exported good government or better government than the natives would have had without England.


You let in the Jew and the Jew rotted your empire, and you yourselves out-jewed the Jew. Your allies in your victimized holdings are the bunyah, you stand for nothing but usury.


And above metal usury; you have built up bank usury, 60% against 30 and 40%, and by that you will not be saved. Corrupting the whole earth, you have lost yourselves to yourselves.


And the big Jew has rotted every nation he has wormed into. A millstone. Well, an exceptionally good swimmer might conceivably be cast into the sea with a stone tied round his neck. He might perhaps untie it. If he were a Scotchman, he would remember his jackknife, before being thrown overboard.


You seem to remember nothing. It were better you were infected with typhus. As to federal union, or JEW/nion. There is no question of race in Streit’s proposition. It is as proposed a union of slaves, under jewry. Offered by liars and abettors of thieves.


You have stolen land from your late Allies, and land slips from your control. The only conquests of Britain and Rosenfeld are conquests from their alleged allies.


All right, say that Franklin Delany swipes all South America — to what end? And ruin the United States of America while he is doing it. What’s that to you? It is not England’s salvation. Will you ever look at the story of empire? You are not even in the mercantile system, you are in a fake mercantile system, not even mercantile. It was for a time called mercantile or the mercantilist system and defined as considering the happiness of a nation to consist in the amount of money it owned, and its process to consist in stealing, welching, pouching the greatest possible amount of same (i.e., of money) from other nations.


That defines the usury system, the only system Anglo Saxons have known or used in our time.


And it will not save you. NOR will Judaized Russia. Nor will the Kahal, the Jew’s central committee of bleeders. WHAT is their system? Unvarying, cheap goods, sweated out of cheap labor, dung dust hurled on the world, the world conceived as sweat shop, to hell with the 8-hour day, down with abundance. Dumping sweated goods, dumped against any and every nation that pays a just price for labor. That is your ally.


And in your past a trail of blood and of infamy. You bought Hessians to kill your own blood in America. You bought ’em from a stinking feudal overlord, who was in the hands of the Rothschild; that is History. You stirred up the American savages against your own kin in America. But now Eden and Cripps have called in the Muscovite, to bum and destroy all Eastern Europe, and kill Finland, for the sake of the stinking Jews nickel mines.


Your infamy is bound up with Judaea. You can not touch a sore or a shame in your empire but you find a Mond, a Sassoon, or a Goldsmid. You have no race left in your government.


God knows if it can be found still scattered in England.


It must be found scattered in England. The white remnants of England, the white remnant of the races of England must be found and find means to cohere; otherwise, you might as well lie down in your grave yards.


You have for years had cheap goods dumped in from Russia. Your alliance with Moscow will bring no relief to that wound. Your Jews have ruined your home manufactures. Loans from the city of London, loans to the Orient, interest paid in cheap cotton goods, loans to the South American countries, interest paid in beef from the Argentine, and ruin of English grazing. The laws of durable government have been known from the days of King Wen. When empires go to rot, they go to rot for known reasons.


The Times, Telegraph, Manchester Guardian, are there to conceal these reasons. Your press is an infamy, has been throughout our time.


The laws of durable government have been known from the days of King Wen, and when the Roman Empire perished it perished from the same follies that your kikes, your Rothschilds, Beits, Sieffs, Schiffs, and Goldsmids have squirted into your veins.


Cheap grain dumped from Egypt, ruin of the Italian farming, usury, and more usury, that is the answer.


For two centuries, ever since the brute Cromwell brought ’em back into England, the kikes have sucked out your vitals. A mild penetration, for a hundred years they have bootlicked your nobility and now where is your nobility? You had at least the semblance of control; you had, let us say, some influence with the Lords of Judaea as long as they wanted your titles, as long as Levy Levinstein Lawson wanted to be addressed as Lord Burnham. You could turn the worst edge of their avarice, or rather you could turn it off, the upper or huppar clawses; and turn it onto the peer. As you did without mercy.


But when the same scroungers have moved over to New York City, how will you manage ’em? The same bloody minded extortioners, or their descendants. The same financial houses. The same Rothschilds who plotted with Sherman, and Vandergould to kill the American nation, who betrayed the United States in the sixties. Head office in London, agents in the U.S. of America.


Now the address is altered. Main office in Wall Street and Cohen in London. You send Willie over to spy on us. You send 5000 usurers’ pimps over to Washington and give special passports, diplomatic, to inveigle the United States into your plans to get cannon fodder from Idaho and from Iowa to weld your slaves cellar on Europe. And this time you get dumped into the ash can.


You have even forgotten your Kipling. Pig Baldwin has forgotten his cousin; if his obscene and treacherous mind ever grasped the meaning of Rudyard’s stories. Let me recall one passage to the sow face:


“The Americans,” wrote Rudyard, “obligingly slaughtered each other in order that the Czechoslovaks might inherit Boston Common.” Cras tibi, tomorrow is your turn. Damn it all, you slaughtered the flower of England in the Boer War. Then in 1914 in the first three months, the best of you went out and got slaughtered.


. . .been seen only too clearly. And your foul papers, the filth of your newsprint has been subsidized to keep your minds off it.


A dirty bit of meat by the name of Gollancz has used your book trade to conceal it. You have almost no means of communication. When a Brooks Adams writes five volumes that would help you to see it, six copies reach England. You have lost the health of the mind. God knows how the scattered handful of Englishmen still in England can still speak one with another.


I see no remedy in your parliament. I don’t mean as parliament. I mean in the personnel. It is your problem. You do not now even elect your own parliament. Whether with an election you could get anything save old dead meat, I do not know. During the last war a few men had a glimmer of instinct. On whatever formula, they called it pacifism. Was it? All of ’em I ever met were pugnacious. Was it an instinct to save the butt end of the race by not fighting? Is it a mistake to combat Germans by force?


Is there a race left in England? Has it any will left to survive? You can carry slaughter to Ireland. Will that save you? I doubt it. Nothing can save you, save a purge. Nothing can save you, save an affirmation that you are English.


Whore Belisha is not. Isaccs is not. No Sassoon is an Englishman, racially. No Rothschild is English, no Strakosch is English, no Roosevelt is English, no Baruch, Morgenthau, Cohen, Lehman, Warburg, Kuhn, Khan, Baruch, Schiff, Sieff, or Solomon was ever yet bom Anglo-Saxon.


And it is for this filth that you fight. It is for this filth that you have murdered your empire, and it is this filth that elects your politicians.


You have lost your tradition. You have not even learned what Lord Byron told you. You are, as even that foul rag the Times tells you, a little late in making a start.


In the year 1942 Anno Domini, there is only one start you can make. And that is a start toward being England. A refusal to be a province of Israel, or an outpost of Yankee-Judaea.


*** END OF SCRIPT ***


Oh that is some good stuff. Tell it, Mr. Pound. Tell it!.

In his Italy-based radio broadcasts, Ezra Pound named the names of the biggest Globalist Jews in the USA and England.

1. "Sir" Victor Sassoon // 2. Bernard Baruch // 3. Henry Morganthau // 4. Anthony Gustav de Rothschild

1. Just about every deceased American poet of even slight renown -- the greats, the mediocre and even clownish crap-spewers such as Maya Angelou -- has been honored with a postage stamp, but not Ezra Pound. Hmmmm? // 3. During its anti-Communist regime days, Nicaragua did honor him.

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