The Fetid Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned.
A shape with bulging body and orangutan head,
A gaze blank and uncomprehending as a newt's,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of bewildered citizens.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That ten months of incredulous sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a scornful bully,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Cleveland to be crowned?
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned.
A shape with bulging body and orangutan head,
A gaze blank and uncomprehending as a newt's,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of bewildered citizens.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That ten months of incredulous sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a scornful bully,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Cleveland to be crowned?
(I beg for forgiveness from the ghost of William Butler Yeats.)
I think Bill Yeats would agree with this sentiment - as would most other poets, artists, musicians, etc. T-Rump is definitely the messiah of the cognitively challenged.
ReplyDeleteWB would probably care less. I found this poetic complaint of a future time beguiling. I later, like now, found more than a casual prediction of our tomorrow. Having used his words numerous times, I found your use a linking action to a long lost friend.
ReplyDelete