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9 matching pages
Page 1 of 11914 · PDF PAGE 6
… 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 desires, ‘One dark fire that absorbs all shining fires. So I lie still, an…
1914 · PDF PAGE 15
…smile and say : How this young satirist exaggerates! If they could see me, they would all go gray ‘With horror, know there is no word in hate’s Roll to speak hate, just as in all love's lore There is no word for love—oh, snore, sow, snore! 1 am rigid with my hate; the brain stands still, Frozen in hate, the eyes one frightful glare. ‘Oh, may sleep save me—or the twitch and thrill Of ecstasy—and yet I hardly dare. Anything but to wake (dear God, I pray!) To the mad maulings of Chicago May.
1914 · PDF PAGE 7
CHICAGO MAY ‘That sets all loathing tingling through my spine, This hate, hate, hate of this “ good luck” of mine! ag Good luck! God save us! Is there one thing worth Gold buys? You bought love; here's the goods! For health, Look at the ploughman toiling in the earth ! Disease and hatred won you by your wealth, ‘And scorn—foul scorn—even from the tipsy knaves ‘You fling your dollars to, and think them slaves! Each one of all the maggots that swarm round ‘Your swollen carcass knows exactly that; What is too rotten, what is fairly sound, ‘How muc…
1914 · PDF PAGE 14
CHICAGO MAY The ache and spasm of this hate is such That it blots out myself and you; it flows Impersonal, ecstatic; at the touch Of language,it is broken up. God knows How, when He spake the Word, the Absolute Burst—hence Chicago. Would He had been mute! No, by the Lord! This hate is a pure joy Like everything that’s pure . . . (the great sow snores/) That's the catastrophe that breaks the boy! n in sleep this hoariest of whores Maintains her reputation. Keep away ‘The breath of scandal from Chicago May! xiv T nicknamed you Chicago May because…
1914 · PDF PAGE 18
CHICAGO MAY See! what a love is child of that pure hate, ‘What hope the heritor of that despair! All I destroyed 1 save, I recreate. ‘What things shall be annihilate what were. Evil was made that good might come thereby, And life to show us it is good to die! Iv O love! O love! lost, lost beyond all hope! 1 plunged too deep within the mire! I strove To master worlds beyond my horoscope 1 sought out hate, and found it only love. I did invoke pure scorn, and lo! appears The pale veiled goddess of immortal tears. Vile, mean, debauched, a mass of m…
1914 · PDF PAGE 8
…act of light and bliss And truth. Shall mere anatomy refute? (The great sow snores)—oh, certainly a brute! Yet, if a brute, why should I hate you so? Because you are my own race turned to dung? ‘Things nearest to us plague us most, we know. ‘Why should such “why?” come tripping to my tongue ? It is love's shrine itself that you pollute; And that is why I hate you, prostitute “Make me a baby!" May a cancer gnaw Your womb! A dropsy make your belly burst! ‘The word of “ baby” in your monstrous maw ‘Makes God a liar, and his Chri “And am I really a…
1914 · PDF PAGE 4
…w snores, Blowing out spittle through her blubber lips, ‘Champagne and lust still oozing from the pores. Of her fat flanks; then, let my hate eclipse All other lamps of my pale soul, and flare— A curst star sparking in the strangled air! Her shapeless limbs are sticky with stale sweat; Yet, she would wake if I withdrew, belch hard The ferments of the fodder, turn, and fret This inch that is the ruins of a yard. Is there no sparrow, ram, ass, bull can stay The “ love"—dear Jesus |—of Chicago May? u Like salt pools in a marsh her skin is, soiled …
1914 · PDF PAGE 5
… runs this one tale of lust and greed — And yet you think men love you. Love, indeed1 Lie still, lie still, and let my heart run on From hate to—love. I name the one pure word ‘That she blasphemes ; her life's Satyricon Would taint all speech! Yet “love,” obscenely purred From whiskered lips, stillsends my spi To God from all this miry martyrdom. ‘There is a woman, true, fair, wise, and young, Her soul one flame for art and song, her soul Pure as the trilling musick of her tongue, Her heart one flame—for me. The single goal Of this great purgat…
1914 · PDF PAGE 13
… does not hesitate To find a word for such—" degenerate.” Xm It poisons me to think such thoughts: they mar ‘The crystal of my orgasm of hate. How can I fling from facets as they are ‘The unwavering light of it, the focussed fate? If I could only speak my thought, its curse Would char you, blast you from the Universe.