Notes On A City (damn near any city)
Along the street the eddy whirls
With frowsy dames and sloppy girls
And somber men and brazon boys
Who stomp or trot; and it annoys (Period)
The crusty shops that cringe at sight
And droop beside each other, quite
As though their misery alone
Would be too much; they would atone.
My reason tells me that it must
Be true; the thoughtless crowds, the dust,
The grimy walks, the littered streets;
The facades pass for scrawny teats.
And yet I know it can not be;
There is no grass, there is no tree,
But only sound that rolls and beats
And sanctioned murder in the streets.
While in his nest each merchant waits,
As patiently his net he baits
And views his neighbor with contempt,
Though finding he is not exempt
From hatreds that swell from the needs
Of human want; within the seeds
Of lassez faire there are the germs
That hold decay, and then the worms
Of avarice and greed and hate
Sprout forth; they bore, they eat, they sate
Their hunger on the scabs of men:
I sit and watch. I sit and grin.
— Grady L. McMurtry
Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, August 1992.