<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

Sorry to be so late on this, but does anyone think that some rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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?

-- William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"

KSA fed the beast, as 6,000+ princes tried to bend the oil revenue in service of their cocks. Now the beast is grown beyond them. At the end of their lives they can look to leave nothing but a memory of their collective appetite.

They're Arabs; worse, they're KSA Arabs. What else can you expect of them?

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?