mixed media, Gottfried Helnwein
The lovely child,
Nestled peacefully in her own arms,
Wide awake she thinks,
Who is this God my kind speaks of?
A brainwashed personace of patriachy?
An egotistical excuse for the sovereign self?
Or rather a front for the devil in you?
Stop
Enough
Cease you holy tools of war,
Blemished his name you have made,
No more!
End your suffocating dogma,
Twirl the dervish spins,
His skirt and breath a seductive welcome,
Voltaire's whispers playfully heard,
Finally this child understands,
For paradise has always been in her head
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