The Republican Party
William Butler Yeats
Falling and falling into political lies
The leaders cannot hear the populace;
Things move apart; the centre cannot be;
Mere extremism is loosed upon the land,
Irrationality is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of true reason is drowned;
The best lack any air time, while the worst
Are full of corporate contributions.
Surely some catastrophe is at hand;
Surely the Republican Party is at hand.
The Republican Party! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Politicus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in fields of the heartland
A shape with human body and the head of a pin,
A brain blank and pitiless as a child,
Is moving its campaign, while all about it
Reel cameras of the indignant media pimps.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That double centuries of stable rule
Were vexed to nightmare by a foolish party,
And what dumb beast, her hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Washington to be born?