This is one of my favorite poems, or the first part is, anyway. When I decided to give Anguish Languish a shot, it seemed like a good thing to pick on. No disrespect is intended to William Butler Yeats.

by Rachel Grey

Toning end toning ender why den injure
Default kin can it hereto fall canoe.
Dings follow pard; disinter kin knot holed;
Mare and her key a sluiced a punt a whirled,
Dabbled damned tatter sluiced, end of rewear
Dasher a money oven a census droned;
Drabbest like hell convict shown, wilder wurst
Art fool 'er poison eight in ten city.

Soiler sum revel eight shun his ate and;
soiler dessicant communist a tanned.
Dessicant commune! Whored leer dose wards ought
Winner vasty mug Otto spy rictus moon die
Tribbles mice ate: some whorin's and oft a dessert
Ash heap whistlin' batty ender had off amen,
A gauze blinkin' pit eyeless hasta son,
Asimov ingots low tie, swill Allah bow tit
Real shade oh saved ah indigent does ort boards.
Dada ark nasty ropes agent, butt nova no
Tat twin to censure eyes off stow knees leap
Swerve exit tonight more bye a-rockin' cray dull,
Enate ruff bee, states our Cameron date lost,
Slate cheese to our brothel hem tuba barn?
by William Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre 
The falcon cannot hear the falconer; 
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; 
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, 
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere 
The ceremony of innocence is drowned; 
The best lack all conviction, while the worst 
Are full of passionate intensity. 

Surely some revelation is at hand; 
Surely the Second Coming is at hand. 
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out 
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert 
A shape with lion body and the head of a man, 
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, 
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it 
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. 
The darkness drops again; but now I know 
That twenty centuries of stony sleep 
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, 
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, 
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?