by Bre Smith

Oh, Babylon, Oh, Babylon,
that wicked head of gold!
She’s enchanted every nation
since the ancient days of old. 

Her divination blinded all
the eyes of multitudes,
and devils guide the worship of
engraved similitudes. 

Her riches can not be compared,
but at such great a price!
The souls whom she through lies ensnared
indulged their every vice. 

Her chants entrance and hypnotize,
and mantras inculcate.
Pharmekeia serves to euthanize
and to intoxicate. 

She’s brought all into her mattress,
an idolatrous affair
of iconographic madness
and delusional despair. 

Clandestine rites and rituals
will come into the light,
drink offerings and victuals
can’t free her from her plight. 

She gazes to Prognosticate
at moons and constellations.
Can she then anticipate
her looming condemnation? 

The idols with which she’s adorned
could never save a soul.
Their makers eons past were warned-
wrath’s written in the scroll.

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Bre Smith is a Christian, wife, and mother. She spends her time homemaking and homeschooling her three children in southwest Missouri.