After Blake's London Poem by Dr Ronnie Bai

After Blake’s London

Wouldn’t Blake be lost in the smogged street
Near where the smogged square does lie
When seeing every masked face he’d meet
Masks of gold rush and masks of hie

In every toot of every car
In every party’s call for gold
In every news and in every star
The money-crazed mime he’d behold

How the French perfume’s rich fragrance
Every black limo’s heated seat presses
And the plain-clothed police’s presence
Raises no eyebrow of the maimed masses

But most at drunken meals he’d hear
How youthful women’s loud giggle
Soothes younger virgins’ hurtful fear
For jobs they all happily haggle —