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Page 1 of 11939 · PDF PAGE 5
…Soon calms the season of loves rage, And joy grows short of breath; Birth shoots a shaft, weighed down by age, That strikes the target, death. Then come, thou golden goblet brimmed With lust! Though all be vain, Theres hope for us, the lion-limbed, In hashish and cocaine. Though death should hale us by the scruff Of neck tos mouldy portal, To-night let us get drunk enough To know we are immortal!
1939 · PDF PAGE 7
…and afloat on the tide. I accept every phantom of Mind, vain dreams in fatuity curled; I accept the corruption of Body, delight to bring Death to the world. In measureless madness I bask, I gloat upon carrion flesh. I wallow with God in the mire, and of mire I create Him afresh. There is naught, nor shall be, that my love cannot gnaw with insatiate tooth: I will wring forth the Truth from the lies as I once found the lies in the Truth. Astarte, I know thee for rotten as others have seen thee for pure; I tear off the mask that smiled false on th…
1939 · PDF PAGE 6
…hadow hath sway. Concocted of offal and mire, putrescent with cancer of breath, A knot that unravels to naught, a riddle whose answer is Death? The mind is the reek of the fume of the bodys corruption, the mime Of its magotty moods as it rots from its worm-eaten egg to its slime. The mind hath not even a mist to excuse philosophic pretence Of a substance; at most it distorts some few of the phantoms of sense. Its reason is ever astray, its ignorance straitens its span; It ends in the mystery-night whence its clumsy creation began. It observes,…