The Holy Whore of Babylon
The Holy Whore of Babylon cries.
Her plea, invection cast as lies.
Prejudice awaits her toil,
Propaganda spates her foil,
Sin’ly, thinly await to rise.
To shed the shackles of her ties,
They think that she is in demise.
Blood begins to creep and boil.
The Envoy unchallenged.
The Holy Whore of Babylon flies,
Her motives strong, rejected; wise
Prejudice foretells her; loyal
Propaganda outstrips her; Royal
As others dictate; she simply sighs.
The Envoy unchallenged.
poem by Alice Anne Gordon
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