Thelema ScholarTHE ALEISTER CROWLEY COLLECTION
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1914 · PDF PAGE 18

Chicago May

…mean, debauched, a mass of muck you are: “Tis you, and none but you, I came to save. Tleave in heaven my maiden, my sole star; For you I give my godhead to the grave. Dung that you are, you have given me the key To Christ's heart—ob | unveil the Graal for me! What! you are past redemption thief and whore? It is for you I must give up my life. My maid is pure and true; she needs no more. You are the bitch that I must make my wife. Tlove her. Yes: then just that love demands Renunciation. Ay! love understands. 7

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1914 · PDF PAGE 6

Chicago May

… me far From earth to the unmoved abodes ‘That lie beyond the utmost star! Ah, no! the martyr asks his Lord For martyrdom as his reward. Give me my pain, and let me keep My love! T have no fear to lose My hate: While now she lies asleep, T have one moment's power to choose. I choose the cross. My love shall gain ‘The price of all my Judas-pain. Il Pure hate is like pure love, a calm, a flow Of the pure spirit in a single stream; No wave disturbs its depth ; no gleam or glow Of any light dares break on its supreme Annihilation of all less desire…

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1914 · PDF PAGE 14

Chicago May

…ut the clause Holds yet another attribution. It Was a thief, prostitute, assassin—ch ?— Who rots in prison as “ Chicago May.” Her name I give you, hers! She walked the streets, And picked the pockets of her men ; blackmailed ‘Them, failing that ; a knife-thrust to complete Her repertory. That's all. I think she failed To match your speech and breath : and you could rise To steal the pennies offa dead man's eyes. 13

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1914 · PDF PAGE 17

Chicago May

…e made, I find, by churning chalk, Eunuchs may safely swill satyrion, Plaster your cancers while you can the knife Comes all too late to give a chance of life. m1 Oh, but the soul is there| as pure and sweet As if you never had defiled it, pure Without attaint, impeccable, complete, Perfect, through all the ages to endure— Ahi! then T love you after all—the years Dissolved in the black bowl—these bitter tears © God! I love you more than I love her, Because you are lost, because you are mere dung. ‘That makes your pearl shine! Stark and sinister…

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