With apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley (of course, since he drowned in 1822, I’ve got a fat chance of him accepting any of my apologies, but whatever).
I met a commuter from Maryland,
Who said: Two vast and headless ears of stone
Lie on the Mall. Near them on a stand,
Half sunk, a shattered teleprompter sits, its lone
And empty screen and visage bland,
Tell that its technician well understood
The shallow wiles and liberal dross,
The liar who told us, Yes we could.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Obamandias, hippest evah boss,
I made 2 trillion go 'Poof!' right here",
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, brown and sear,
The untended arugula stretches far away.