With grateful acknowledgement to Percy Bysshe Shelley, and his great original tribute to hubris, pride and power, Ozymandias.
I met a traveller from the Indispensable Land,
Who said—“Have you seen the empty hulk over yonder,
That stands in the corridors of power?”
Near it, alongside a broken Teleprompter,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies,
Whose turned up tippy tippy nose,
And look of smug Exceptional Superiority from a great height,
And sneer of patronising condescension,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on those places
Unfortunate enough to have suffered at his hand,
The hand that twisted their arms,
And the heart that thought to bring Democracy to all
Whether they wanted it or not.
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
“My name is Obamandias,
President of Presidents;
Winner of prizes for peace.
Look on my Works,
Ye World and admire!
Leader of the Exceptional Nation
Maker of the Libyan paradise
Friend of the amiable House of Saud
Bringer of (regime) change you can believe in to countries I have seen somewhere on a map
Supporter of “Moderate” folks and their hope for a Salafist state
Placer of endless sanctions to break those countries that won’t bow down.”
Nothing beside remains.
Round the decay of that colossal petulant wreck,
Boundless and bare
The smooth contours of the golf course,
Self-congratulatory speeches paid at $100,000 per hour,
And nauseating appearances on tacky talk shows
Stretch far away into the distance.