Surprise! Members of our Holier-than-thou Supreme Court have been caught meeting, eating and praying with billionaires and their lackeys, and leaking decisions to them so they could get their PR ready. See the NYT story about the same. Here’s a poem for the priestly class wannabees.
This is from Blake’s Songs of Experience:
The Chimney Sweeper
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying “weep! ‘weep!” in notes of woe!
“Where are thy father and mother? say?”
“They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil’d among the winter’s snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.”
Blake, Songs of Experience
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