William Blake, saw a New World Order,
A revolution, a new way forward.
To feel is to exist and our feelings come before our thoughts,
But anarchy is illegal, you must follow the cardinal rules.
You need a God, to live your lives,
To make you believe, it will turn out alright.
To let you believe, what you think is right,
Well do what you must and release me from life.
Lay me down under the guillotine,
Then let me say goodbye to my wife.
I simply stare into the basket,
Before I float up to the light.
Sacrifice your life, to gain the freedom you should have;
Lay down your life, to make a stand.
Stand in front of the tanks, to stop the armies drones
And hurl the tyrant, off of his throne.
Killed for free thinking, they say it's illegal;
Emotion will set you free, but were not allowed to feel.
So we must leave Paris and head for America,
The next big thing; the country of the future.
The beast at the door, must be stopped from entering,
The wolf at your tail will make you keep moving.
A time for a pilgrimage and an end to the Empire,
It's time to leave Europe and head to America.
Poetry, is expression of thought,
So who are you, to tell me I'm wrong?
Every man’s taste is different
And our tastes are not acquirable,
They’re our natural instincts; that are written in our souls.
The great romantics saw life as it should be.
A simpler place where we need not disagree.
Let man speak his mind, let his words become free,
Not silenced under dictatorship, it's not a cardinal sin.
Free thinkers, will lead to your destruction,
They simply won’t follow your every instruction.
The Parisians revolt, because the power has gone to your head,
So they burn down your world and leave you for dead.
Leave France behind, but don't dwell on the past.
Will you sell out? Or think for yourself?
Write what is in your soul, don't be a cog in the system,
In America they will not sentence you, to life in prison;
For writing your thoughts and going against the grain.
The revolution must begin; it is time for a change.
The stench of dead French, filled the streets with blood.
Don't let their deaths be worthless, only we can free us.
You imprison yourself, by accepting the norm:
The Guillotine, The Executioner; The orders from above.
The French revolution, gave writers a voice;
Gave us freedom of speech, gave us freedom of choice.
Gave us freedom of expression and impressionist art.
To revolt is to begin again, to make a new start.
El Liberte, a statue of such a scale.
The light house in the distance; the direction to sail.
At last we are free, at last we are home,
Freedom of speech must become the norm.
For you to simply say, Wordsworth is worthless;
Is to simply admit your own ignorance.
To say the encyclopedia is down-right blasphemous;
Is to simply admit your own incompetence.
To execute a writer for saying what he thinks.
To condemn him to death, to execute him;
Is to show how wrong you are
And that a new leader is needed.
The revolutionaries knew the price,
It would take to get our freedom.
But Wordsworth’s 'Mariner' has stood the test of time
And even today, it's still a favorite of mine.
