Saturday, November 22, 2008

Slouching Toward Foggy Bottom

What rough beast slouches toward Foggy Bottom, waiting to be born?
The Second Coming
by William Butler Yeats
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;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Pics of She Whose Name Is Not Spoken from here and here and Yeats poem from here.
Blame for attitude toward She Whose Name Is Not Spoken may be placed
here and especially here.


Jay@Soob said...

That last pic is straight up a thing of nightmares.

Suzette Watkins said...

OMG! You are too much! I love the first picture. That is priceless!! Keep up the good work WS!! You're the bomb! I can always count on you for my day's humor! Cheers!

(Obama lovers - any offense to my comments is unintentional. I just appreciate WS' humor.)

Uncle Fester said...

Fester knows scary stuff, and those pictures are some scary stuff.

vampE said...

Just when this English minor thought Yeats couldn't get any more evil, along comes WS. I don't believe in the Second Coming, but if I did, a photoshopped picture of W and Cheney would be the stuff of my nightmares. Bwahahahaha.