HiddenMysteries: A Message from the Whore of Babylon

Layla Anwar

I want to tell you all about the Whore from Babylon ...

She is unlike any other whore you have met before and am sure you have met a few...She is your creation. So look at her now.

She is no streetwalker, no sex worker, no prostitute. She is the Whore from Babylon.

I want to emphasize the word – because you relish it, you secretly relish it...

A great erection engulfs you, and you feel powerful again. And your power is measured by your erections...your would–be erections, your pseudo-erections, your make-belief erections...

Erections come in all forms. Fun and Exercise erections, Mental erections, Ideological erections, Political erections and even Religious erections. Battlefield erections, Military erections, Financial erections, Power erections, Conquest erections, Destruction erections, Annihilation erections...
My, you are truly powerful. And your sexual erections are nothing but the tip of the iceberg. Do excuse the pun...and it is intended.

Now, now, don't get me wrong. It is not that am about to castrate you or anything along these lines, even though at times it may not sound like such a bad idea after all...
Especially not a bad idea when I learn that you have not only totally ruined endless lives, but you have also raped them. You have indeed raped Life. Raped the living Breath out of us...

Some of you are so used to raping, you can't tell the difference anymore...but She does.

By Allah, by God, by the Force that moves you and I, I see you.

Some of you are short, some are tall, some are too thin, a copy of skeletons about to drown, and some too fat, you can't even see your own member, your organ and you search for it in the folds of your flabby grease. Others ? They brand it like a weapon of mass destruction. And others secretly pray that it will move up and others fear it will be caught...The Whore of Babylon has observed and studied it all...from close and from afar...

She has known the smells and heard the groans of viciousness...What can you possibly teach Her more ?

Every night, by candle light or a two cents lamp, She prepares herself to entice you...She has to.
A few hungry mouths are waiting in the darkness...in the silence. They are more important than her and than you...all of you.

The Whore from Babylon always gets her priorities right.

So she puts up with your odors, your drunkenness, your perversity, your insults, your humiliation, your slurs, your spit, your diseases, your vindictiveness, your pay-back time, your recklessness, your callousness, your indifference...your Impotence.

She puts up because she has been robbed of choice and of pleasure...

She puts up because you – as a man - are no longer important, despite your erections...Oh my, aren't you so powerful.

She has espoused a higher cause – a few hungry mouths waiting in silence, a disabled parent-- too paralyzed to move, a forcefully buried memory that she re-enacts, as you ram away…

And as she washes off your rancid sweat, your polluting semen, images flash through her mind –- a love vanished in a dungeon, or one that never returned. A husband drilled to his bones by the faithful disciples, awaiting their Mahdi Savior. A father, too limp, eaten by Death. A pair of shorts in a morgue because her son's face and body were too disfigured to be recognized. As disfigured as yours, in the shadows, in the total obscurity that surrounds her...

And as she washes off your stench--provided that she has water, you ask for more and she hears your nasal exhalations, reminding her of her "Liberation", and you ram away some more...while the wife or the girlfriend is masturbating or bonking your best friend, neighbor or your lieutenant, to the airs of your overseas love letters...from the new Iraq.

And she remembers her own, masked, the ones she trusted and considered "brothers" ganging up on her, because she bore the wrong name...

By Allah, by God, I want to laugh...Even though there is nothing humorous.

I am shrieking with a cynical laughter and I can't hold back. Because beyond the pain and beyond the misery, your truths shine through...All of you.

I hold the scales in one hand like Ishtar.

I weigh your dirt and I blow it away with one sacred breath, in the temple of my rendered nothingness. And I see your dirt being carried away, scattered away, cleansed, by the winds...

As I look into the mirror of my dressing room, by the candle light, by the two cents lamp...

http://www.uruknet.info

A Message from the Whore of Babylon

Thursday, August 14 2008 @ 03:30 AM CDT