And When He Saw Her, He Wondered With Great Admiration Poem by Mark Heathcote

Great whore, who wants to love you?
These midnight marauders
who here is giving the orders
who wants to love you?

My soul wants to boycott you.
But my flesh wants to lift its embargo,
because, her serpent touches, electrically transmit:
they, have me chomping at the bit.

Who wants to love you?
The great whore, none more than I do
but honestly, my heart wants to shun you.
Yet, my flesh wants to love you still with every sinew.

The great whore of Babylon who wants to love you
whore, who wants to love you,
none more than I do,
throw your seven veils to the wind
I son of Lucifer I'll take her.