Gone richbashin'

Bash the rich

The Blogger is away until the Met decide to release us.

Since The Blogger has got into some high-falutin’ chit chat about Yeats over on The Secular Backlash, here’s The Second Coming to ponder over the weekend:

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 the 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?
This entry was posted in Bash the rich and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Gone richbashin'

  1. Jon Eccles says:

    Thanks for the poem, BB. Unfortunately my hangover isn’t letting me display any kind of passionate intensity. I think I’m off for twenty centuries of stony sleep. Hope you didn’t get arrested, and if you did I hope it was worth it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *