And was Jerusalem builded here among the dark Satanic Mills

A few months ago this poem was published on a blog that I have connections with. What has led me to publish it again were thoughts on the words of Jerusalem written by William Blake. The Song is a Socialist Song and does not deserve to be sung alongside Jingoistic nonsense it is often matched with. Read these words and reflect

“And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! 

Bring me my chariot of fire!

So I rewrote sections of Shelley's “Masque of Anarchy” the original poem was written nearly 200 years ago. There was an unpleasant Right Wing Tory Government in power. It was oppressing the poor, cutting back on services and distracting the population by blaming the foreigner. In South Wales hatred was being stirred up against migrants and refugees. Not a lot of difference from today...........

The Masque of Austerity

As I lay asleep in Neathy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.

I met some Murderers on the way—
One had a mask like Theresa May--
Very smooth she looked, yet grim;
Seven blood-hounds followed them:

All were fat; and well they might
Be in admirable Tory plight,
For one by one, and two by two,
She tossed them human hearts to chew

Which from her wide cloak she drew.
Next came Pretence , and he had on,
Like Michael Gove, an ermined gown;
His big tears, for he wept well,
Turned to mill-stones as they fell.

And the little children, who
Round his feet played to and fro,
Thinking every tear a gem,
Had their brains knocked out by them.

Clothed with Sanctions, as with light,
And the shadows of the night,
Like Cameron , next, Hypocrisy
On a crocodile rode by.

And many more Destructions played
In this ghastly masquerade,
All disguised, even to the eyes,
Like Atos, lawyers, peers, or spies.

Last came Austerity: he rode
On a white horse, splashed with blood;
He was pale even to the lips,
Like Death in the Apocalypse.

And he wore a bankers crown;
And in his grasp a sceptre shone;
On his brow this mark I saw--
'I AM TROIKA , AND IMF, AND LAW!'

With a pace stately and fast,
Over Welsh land he passed,
Trampling to a mire of blood
The adoring Tory/Ukip multitude.

And a mighty troop around,
With their trampling shook the ground,
Waving each a bloody sword,
For the service of Atos their Lord.

And with glorious triumph, they
Rode through Wales proud and fay,
Drunk as with intoxication
Of the wine of neoliberalism .

O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,
Passed the Pageant swift and free,
Tearing up, and sanctioning down;
Privatising till they came to Swansea town

And each dweller, panic-stricken,
Felt his heart with terror sicken
Hearing the tempestuous cry
Of the triumph of Austerity

For with pomp to meet him came,
Clothed in arms like blood and flame,
The hired murderers, who did sing
'Thou are TROIKA and IMF and law

We have waited, weak and lone
For thy coming, Mighty One!
Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,
Give us glory, and blood, and atos gold.'

Lawyers and acountants, a motley crowd,
To the earth their pale brows bowed;
Like a bad prayer not over loud,
Whispering -- `Thou art IMF and GOD

Then all cried with one accord,
`Thou art IMF and GOD
Austerity , to thee we bow,
Be thy name made holy now!'

And Austerity the Skeleton,
Bowed and grinned to every one,
As well as if his education
Had cost ten millions to the nation.

For he knew number 11 Downing Street
Of our neo-liberal economiststs
Him of Eaton , globe and law
And the gold-inwoven robe he wore.

So he sent his slaves before
To seize upon the Bank and Law,
And was sanctioning with intent
To meet his pensioned Parliament

`Then they will return with shame
To the place from which they came,
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on Clegg`s cheek.

`Every woman in the land
Will point at Tories as they stand--
They will hardly dare to greet
Liberal Democrats on the street.

`And the bold, true warriors
Who have hugged Danger in wars
Will turn to those who would be free,
Ashamed of such base Tory company.

`And that slaughter to the Syrians
Shall steam up like inspiration,
Eloquent, oracular; revolution
A volcano heard afar.

`And these words shall then become
Like Oppression's thundered doom
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Heard again -- again -- again--

`Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number--
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you--
Ye are many -- they are few.'