Blake

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Blake



How can I create a voice that’s bold
      Enough to daze the savages, cave men,
      Who pile up war machines like rocks again,
      Who think big bucks crush enemies with gold

And iron warheads? What word magic told
      These dreamy apes their rage was god, to send
      Blast master death and boom fire kill and bend
      All brittle bones to their terrible mold?

Shout to us, Blake! Prophecy new fate.
      You drew a face in the sky to hide God
      From angry poets of revenge and hate.

Their prayers, crudely recalled, still shape the odd
      Abstractions of these Beasts with big, gory
      Scenes. Call to us now a calmer glory.