IT HAPPENED AGAIN (Patreon)

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of plastic

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And badly coveyed lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the bottle that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Oopsiemandias, Piss Murder Doll;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”