Woe to you, O Babylon!
Your daughter has been desecrated;
By the hands of the ruffian,
By the touch of the villain.
Purity has been defiled,
Innocence has been cast to the wild.
The virgin has been soiled.
The young woman has become a harlot.
The corruption of the mind begins in youth!
Who is responsible for her mis-education?
Has there been an immoral paternal or
The tutor has much to be maligned for!
Now there is no redemption!
The whore flaunts herself before the altar,
Her chastity decorated by the veil of
She has paraded in the name of decency.
Her lovers gather to witness her
There is no threat to her behaviour!
A husband by word has no place;
A ceremony is a ridicule of its custom.
It carries no weight before heaven,
An unclean act cannot be purified,
It tarnishes the vessels employed,
It is neither saintly nor sanctified.
There are many to whom she calls;
There are those from whom she begs heat;
To be splayed upon the horn of plenty,
An unholy cornucopia of substance.
Her breasts are displayed wantonly,
She is stroked, not soothed for her
There is no charm where open thighs pulse;
The offense of her body, one sense,
The message of desire is massaged,
Inviting the most penetrating intrusion.
The kiss of desire is most demanding,
The muscles comply with their intonation.
Is there a man who will reject the advance?
The grape of the vine is intoxicating;
The aging of its juices set the flavour,
There are many aromas that develop.
The maturity of the body is determined by
The connoisseur will choose the most
Babylon has been brought to many locales:
Her children display her characteristics.
Clothing does not cover her nakedness,
It is the decoration of her lewdness.
She thrusts her invitation openly,
She is impatient to be sated.
Tongues do not employ words to speak!
They savour droplets of musk, sweet and
Salted flesh burns into the buds,
Driving spasms to deeper pits and crevices.
Fluids merge in the salivating of the
The tool which now explores its
The breast rises with each panting pulse;
The crimson bud, erect stands, at the
Of a shaded globule, of varying
The milk of kindness can be a succulent
Thirst is slaked at the valley floor;
Is the grass and moss the same as wet
The waves of undulation ripple to the
The mount stands at its highest peak,
Of sense and sensitivity, signaling,
The coarseness of its message to the depth,
Awaiting the crowning presence,
Of statuesque and robust thrusting!
O Babylon, you draw your slave and master,
Closer to your selfish epicentre.
You reject the rights of all,
Who would claim to be your preference.
You give no weight to claim of fealty,
Suffered by any one who may have been
What place does love have in your bosom?
The value of truth is known only too well!
The cover of discretion indiscreetly lies;
The satisfaction of love will not be found,
Unless the search is focused at your
The day and night equal to dark and light!
Where is your contribution to the spirit?
You are prompt to satisfy desire;
For all who come will gain by it,
By the willingness to give the easiest.
There is no pledge of loyalty to one;
There is no singular relationship that has
You seek forgiveness for your sin O
Yet you are only too eager to enjoy the
Of repetition and to repeat your action.
There you ply your trade wherever you may
A profit, of bodily delight, before you are
To give nurture and to faithfully remain.
You have a guardian O Babylon, yet you
You cloak the eyes while the breast you
You are sensitive to the touch of fingers
They wander over the length of your
Unfettered you have been and many have
received a key,
To enter in at any time when you can take
all as you will achieve.
There is no cover to your deed!
There is no room of memories that can be
The past is equally a part of the present.
You cannot turn your face away,
You cannot close your eyes and shut out,
The individuals who have shared your
O Babylon, you have been more than a city;
You are each innocent maid who is now
Drawn by the thrill of the crowing cock,
Standing to recapture each beautiful morn!
You have been taken and given that one
The thrill and excitement of being crowed
Are you responsible for your own action?
What drives the most placid individual,
To be wild and to unleash sexual fervor,
For which there can be no averting?
Compassion once committed is unleashed,
To be a constant and aggressive
Where are you now, O daughter of Babylon?
You are hidden in the most obvious of
You have bound yourself to righteousness,
Only to shatter the dream and to bring
You continue to draw your strength from
There is no freedom for the captive of your
For whom should pity be offered?
For he who is lost in the folds of
Or for she who knows no better solution.
Who is most deserving of a blessing,
The point of delivery of transgression,
The forgiveness and holy affirmation?
Man has fallen may times!
So has Woman!
Who is it who is the weaker sex?
He who cannot refuse to follow the male
She, who, like the open flower, waits to be
Both intrude, or precipitate the
The rose is plucked for its beauty;
Each flower, a bud, that will eventually be
To give sweet fragrance and temporary
To adorn all manner of dress and
Once removed from its true self it soon
To be no more than a passing pleasure
We cry for you O Babylon, the tears of
There is no measure to which you can
The most rewarding gift that we can give,
Lies lost long ago with false deity,
You alone can find release from how you
To bring a quality to life that is of the
June 5th. 1996 © Will George.