The Harlot


The Harlot

There she stands

Stunned and bound

Perched and ready to spring forth

At the blast of the seventh trumpet


She is like a jungle cat

Impatiently waiting in her lair

Her mouth agape and moist with blood

Her stomach filled to capacity

With the innocent flesh of the chosen few


Into the belly of The Beast

Go the pure and blameless

Riding its underground bloodstream

For the swipe of a plastic card’s escalating tribute


Unconcerned and blessed

Unaware of the dangers

They wind their way from day to day

From up and down and back and forth

Left and right and in and out

As on they march to desks and ditches

Earning the week’s worth

Unto hell’s appetite


While there she stands in her crimson vestments

Gritting her teeth and grinning with spite

Knowing her wealthy smile will soon be history


For this is her hour

Her season

When Earth must surrender its bounty

By divine appointment

Before sin can burn its final fire


Then will the Prophetic spectacle of the Harlot’s annihilation

Be fulfilled



John Christopher


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graceladymn commented on The Harlot


Interesting write on the worlds governments going down for they have bled many a life out for the nothingness they promise. Its long overdue that the world should return to mindfulness and stop the madness of endless hours playing the tune of a government that shreds its people without care and without conscience.

Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

Unknown Source

Johnny4444’s Poems (149)

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"Waterfall" 1
"Genesis" 0
"Rainbow's Visitation" 0
"The Best" 0
"To Be" 0
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"Together" 1
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Madness 0
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