I am the whore of Babylon,
and deamons give me drink.
From a golden wrought chalice,
that drips with blood so sweet.
I have conqoured the hearts,
of many a mortal man.
Riding the back of a mythical beast,
demons in chains, held in my hands.
I smell of Jasmine,
hard and strong.
They are at my feet,
singing beautiful songs.
In the rhelms of mist,
Beyond all knowing.
It was I who rose to the task,
To keep the blood still flowing.
The hounds of Hell,
held by my hand.
Astride the mighty beast,
in searing desert sands.
Belial comes forth,
holding forth a carved wooden box.
I feel the sleek wood in my hands,
That shines like Obsidian Rocks.
Written By: RuthAnna Brown-Weems
Copt Right, All Rights Reserved,December 9th. 2007
