Turning and turning in the widening gyre      halp! i'm getting
dizzy^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H                        The
falcon cannot hear the falconer;          eh? you'll have to speak
up!^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H                    
        Things fall apart;^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H<crash!>
<clunk.>^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^HThings fall apart; the centre cannot
hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,        what you mean
"mere"?^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H                      The
blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   yuck!
bletch!^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H              The ceremony of innocence is
drowned;         eek!  blub blub blub^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H  
                  The best lack all conviction, guilty!^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hwhile the
worst Are full of passionate intensity.             ooh! aahh! oh
baby!!^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H                    

22 responses total.

Yates!  

or is that Yeats!

sub-text?  B-)

Yikes!

Please put the comments in, down below, I missed them, too fast.

Ah, the soul of a simpler day.

yew

er yes, the world has gone to hell in a hand-basket, the poem is perfect....

Neato Keen!

my word- who wrote that, and what was the inspiration? I like the final couplet

William Butler Yates, with marginal commentary by Marston Snord.

(Unless it was Yeats...)

Could be...

Cool subtext!

Poetry, the dying art.  Mass Media upon it doth fart.
Demassifaction bogs us down, poetry shall soon be underground.
On Harkened HE, to the revival of dying poetry!

You know, I had an aunt who would get poetry books without paying for them
by smuggling them out of the store in her underwear.
She was finally convinced to end her life of crime by a particularly bad Yeats
infection.

Sorry.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
a stately pleasure dome decree. 
Where Alph the sacred river ran,
through caverns measureless to man,
down to a sunless sea.

In Michigan did Marston Snord
the great computer Grex decree.
Where PicoSpan we could afford,
on Sun that we could barely board,
the Snord would set us free

... 

Whoa....

Very deep. Are you going to eat that olive?

I only eat black olives.  You must examine reflected spectra of the olive
in question and determine my intention therefrom.  

I shall eat that olive and any olive that i fancies to eat.

And the author and commentator of that drowning poem shall be eaten, 
too.

I am the monster that shall eat Ann Arbor.

Once upon a midnight dreary,
As I pondered, weak and weary,
Came a keyboard rapping,
A gently tapping,
Saying "Grex, for ever more"

Rappin' raven, came a rap, rap, rapping.
Funky and gothy to your tap, tap, tapping.

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