Mother of Abominations
Emperors offer libations
At her feet, like lambs they bleat
And beg for her scent, lily-mildew sweet
Consort of Chaos, Scarlet Woman
Her body the Sacrament of Aeon
Mistress of all, defiled by none.
Mystery of Mystery, Babalon.
Fire in the belly, like only she can manifest
Is her fruit there to eat, or is it a test?
Tongue so mean, orgasmic avalanches
Forever carved in your dendritic branches.
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As I was writing these poems, Babalon began coming through in many of them. She isn't a deity I'd worked with before, but she is the opposite of insipid! I feel words about her seem to flow easily, and seem to sit in my abdomen, with my creativity, I realise that Babalon is in all women, and yet she speaks to me clearest as the Queen of Wands-- Powerful, enigmatic, and filthy sexy, hot, and a nice mean streak to boot. I think is she were a human she would be disliked as she carries traits women are often cut off from and yet all carry within us.