Even God the Father was not immune to my charms.  When Adam sought to subordinate me he cried aloud the Lord’s words, “accursed be the man that  maketh women heaven and himself the earth”.  Ha!  Does he not know?  I am as much part of heaven as the earth, as much part of him as I.  That really there is no difference between heaven and earth … except the one the Lord makes by placing Angels between himself and heaven, between the flesh and the divine.  He creates the barrier to give himself power.  He is a fool!  I am Lillith and this is my story.


There was no beginning, until He decided to Lord over the earth, dared to mount her, tore her body apart and from the clay formed an image of himself and his perfect compliment.  Before all that I was the first, before Adam, before and after the Lord.  I was the first.  Beautiful and Terrifying  to  this upstart Lord.  Too  much of a reminder of his borrowed time and rational, ha! Oppressive light! [Spit]  which fades … I refused Adam’s subordination, despite the Lord’s decrees.  I will be heaven as much as the earth, I am neither, I am both, I am death and birth: That terrified the Lord.  I would debate him.  I could use his language against him, so he used my sex against me [Remove earth brown jumpsuit to reveal blood red corset dripping with rubber snakes].  He made me the death whore.  He sent me to Satan, or so he claims.  I went willingly, in fact Satan came to me.  I am the flesh and the earth.  The rounded womb.   I am hell.


The Lord cast Satan to me in a blot of phallic lightning, rupturing the earth, sparking the burning fires of my womb, creating hell.  Ha!  Oh the Lord would have us believe Satan was thrown to Earth, I know he leapt with passion to my womb, my hell.  Satan would not bow to the God doll, Adam, nor his perfect compliment Eve – free with every Adam.  Satan saw my power, I lay astride Satan, I was in heaven while in hell.  I have my belly to the Earth, no my back pressed to the ground.  Satan was accursed for he, “maketh woman heaven and himself earth”.  Satan was a Snag.


You see Satan was once an Angel and many an Angel fell for a, “weakness for a friendship of the thighs”.  They even fell for the dull-witted daughters of Eve, casting off their shallow spiritual form for physical pleasure, or was that power?  [Begin smashing eggs on body]  My offspring, my beautiful Lillum, they terrified the little men priests, those cleansed souls, so close to God, bar the Angels, they feared my Lillum, the only female Angels to fall from heaven, crawling out of my womb dripping with the bloody fire of Satan’s loins.  Holy Menstruation!  The little men priest tied crucifixes to their little pricks to ward off my Lillum, whom they found in their dreams, wet, erotic dreams drenched in fore and blood.  Ha! Ha!  They said they heard my laugh down the corridors, disturbing their rest, as they dreamt of pleasures made into perversions by their Lord, who is of men!  Not I!  They blamed me and my Lillum for what they could not face was within them, within us all, forever.  My Lillum have better taste than little men priests, my Lillum are the princesses of passion, daughters of the earth.  They rider their lovers … like only a daughter of Lillith can!



It’s against the law for me to be out this late.  Not that it is a written law, but it is enforced.  Not that there is a curfew or anything, well not exactly, but being seen is enough to make you responsible – especially if you don’t have a certificate of authenticity of sale.  Woman is under prohibition and no female is above suspicion.  I can be bought and sold but basically I am illegal..  The only way to be safe is for me to cloak myself in a sellable guise of flower-laden femininity – open, gaping. offering, moist and supplicant.


The she-is-nature, uncontrollable nature campaign has been one of the most effective sales campaigns ever.  It has given man made tampons a whole ‘nother meaning.  Gone are the days - and when were those days?  Gone are the days when women had to suffer the indiscretion of the monthly unmentionables.  Yet prime time never lets us forget just how embarrassing it really is.  Crimson and gut wrenching the raw stench of the womb.  All that primeval shit gets sanitised, ostracised and pastellised all over.  All the womanly speaking with both mouths is modestly daintified to avoid social disgrace.


Got to be careful, not meant to be out this late – I mean look at the way I’m dressed.  My ‘vag-top’ computer carries ‘that’ sort of knowledge.  Dangerous enough to topple tall, erect towers.  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar but when is a rose just a rose?  The beautiful flower, so tempting by it’s very nature – funny how we need to cover women and tampons in flowers to ‘make’ them feminine?  [Aside]  I’ve heard, and this is strictly between you and me, I’ve heard that the most successful feminists ‘keep’ their femininity.  But where do they keep it?  In the garage?  In the spare room?  Do they pop it into their briefcase and take it to work?  Well my ‘vag-top’ doesn’t have ‘that’ much memory and frankly I don’t have the time.


All this discretion!  And for what?  Who is going to mistake a box of tampons for a cutely boxed trinket?  The packaging just says whatever product I am, I’m not going to shout about it!  Keep quiet about your cunt ladies, and you know we are all ladies here aren’t we?  Cause if anyone here isn’t a lady, well you don’t need me reminding you what happens to ‘that’ sort of woman.


They used to burn my ancestors, destroying our knowledge.  Our libraries were decimated, disembodies from ourselves.  But we still exist.  Women who transgress by thinking, by doing, by acting, all these women who shine must fear the licking flames consuming them.  But I’ve said too much, I must download and so must you.


I thrust my head from the oceans at dawn and saw her: Venus, the morning star, the chaste goddess of the battlefield, her wisdom infinite. Athene, her number the star, Venus the morning star.

I languished in the currents, as light tinted the clouds, to be aroused by Venus the evening star, goddess of love and desire, of beauty. Aphrodite, her number the flower, Venus the evening star.

At dawn the star, at dusk the flower.

I have watched her millions of Venuses, in all her incarnations and transformations since the becoming of night, the eve, brought the new day. Two millennia ago woman began and ended the world. The two Venuses, Athene, the morning star and Aphrodite, the evening star, were caught on the cusp of day and night, between beginnings and endings.

APHRODITE: Athene! Where are you Athene? Apollo’s gone, we have to talk. Athene! Oh where are you? You’re the goddess of wisdom, I need your advice. Oh Athene, leave it all to Aphrodite as usual. [Whining imitative sarcastic] Aphrodite can dance at the formal dinners to impress other deities. Why don’t we get Aphrodite to entertain everyone with her delights and charms. Then why don’t we blame Aphrodite for all women’s suffering. [Different tone imitative of male] Oh I couldn’t help it she was attracting me, her gravitational pull dragged me towards her, she was beautiful – a venus, it isn’t my fault. [Furious] How dare they blame me for their lack of responsibility and control. I am the goddess of love not rape!

I can’t believe the conditions I have to work under.

In my heyday as the Goddess of Love, I would emerge from the ocean, blown in by several helpful nymphs and cherubs, to be a virgin again, to be clothes again. Now I am seen as the goddess of greed and lust, temptation and seduction! For the last two millennia I have been held responsible for men’s consciences. They call me a siren, an evil dangerous goddess of seduction. They slander me. Their violence is reflected on me! They say I embody all they reject as unworthy weak and trivial. But I refuse to have my name linked with violence. Aphrodite is not the goddess of women’s suffering, women do not have to die by Aphrodite’s name!

ATHENE: Aphrodite sleeps, but her dreams are troubled. I have been a silent goddess of wisdom for two millennia too long. It’s hard to be female deity of knowledge when men try to deny women an intellect, only accepting their bodies as their most pertinent reality. But the age of the two opposing, complementary fish is turning over. The foundations we built our knowledge on are rupturing our towers of truth. The further they buried, so the higher they could build. Ha, Ha. So foolish, like a volcano, all that has been denied, excluded and devalued will erupt. The millennia ends – a new river runs. Or rather, new birth waters run as the collective fable runs dry. This virgin birth, of please! This has been done to death – all the old religions have the same story of an unmarried mother bringing forth the new god who dies each year in winter only to be reborn in spring – but the big difference was that all the old religions include the mother as a goddess herself!

I can’t accept the simplicity of the one and only one god without a goddess. Holy man-child, son of man, born for sacrifice, born again by his father’s will. Life. Death. Love. All devoid of women except as empty passages for man. Virgin birth indeed, and sacrifice reverted by masculine reproduction? Ha! Pure Macho sex and violence. Holy Virgin – I don’t think so! By Hades! Aphrodite and I have been Virgins for many millennia but all we seem to get is bad press. We get portrayed as outdated, ancient, kooky, mythical symbols. [Yell exasperated!] Well of course we are mythical symbols, but we are flesh and blood too. We just happen to be flesh and blood that exists [Ramble with rhythm] in both temporal and conceptual space and consistently are constantly different, both in our own and other’s perception, dependent on our own relationship to our present environment. Just like you really, and you, and you, and you.

You see Aphrodite and I may be goddesses, whose material presence is simply a manifestation of your desires and imagination, but we are people too. You don’t have to put us on a pedestal at all. We are what you idealise, fantasise and visualise as outside of you but we are as much a part of you. You too are forever changing, are never fixed, except in your perceptions. Look at me at dawn, absorb Aphrodite at dusk, and you will see the rainbow of hues that fracture light at the border of reflections. We are like lovers, who never meet, because we have never been apart, yet are not together. Love sees in the twilight, the millennia ends only to begin.