Perhaps historians, social commentators, and others have overlooked the significance of the official renaming of the Gulf of Mexico by the U.S. government. In retrospect, this single action—more than all the other actions of the recent past—may be the clearest indication that the Republic has slid into authoritarianism.
Consider this: every other action undertaken recently, no matter how heinous, illegal, or unconstitutional, was not truly surprising. These actions were long planned—rooted in old hatreds of people, ideas, and ideologies that have been debated in this country for decades, if not longer.
But to the point—he had a thought, perhaps fleeting, perhaps deliberate, to arbitrarily rename the Gulf. This was not a longstanding controversy, not a battle waged over decades. No committee debated it, no scholars weighed in, no political factions fought over it. It had never been considered or raised. It is not a point of hate or ideology. It was simply arbitrary, irrational, and ahistorical. And yet—voilà—it was done. No resistance. No hesitation. The act was obeyed with the same mechanical efficiency as in North Korea, the Soviet Union, Communist China, Nazi Germany, or Fascist Spain.
It was a test. Could he control thought, speech, and language itself without resistance? Yes. He could.
There were no legal battles, no protests, no challenges. The Gulf of Mexico was not—and had never been—an issue of public contention or even a discussion. Yet this renaming was an exercise in raw, unchecked power. And no one even stopped to ask, Wait—what? Why?
Thus, the Authoritarian States of America arrived. The Republic can be declared dead as of the day the U.S. government—or, at the latest, Google Maps—recognized the change.
Orwell warned us. Read Nineteen Eighty-Four. Read Politics and the English Language.
The Shattered Eagle is a poignant examination of constitutional crisis and democratic decay in modern America. Through vivid imagery and elegiac tone, it traces the symbolic fall of the American Republic, using the eagle as a metaphor for a nation once soaring with purpose but now battered by corruption, authoritarianism, and civic erosion. This meditation on institutional collapse examines the deterioration of checks and balances, the rise of illiberal power, and the fraying of democratic norms.
Themes and Significance
The poem critiques the erosion of constitutional democracy, judicial independence, and legislative integrity. It reflects on how demagoguery, partisan dysfunction, and the corruption of public institutions have undermined democratic ideals and the rule of law. Through its exploration of societal polarization and institutional decay, it captures the zeitgeist of a republic in crisis.
Yet amid constitutional peril and democratic backsliding, the poem poses a crucial question about renewal. Its final stanzas challenge readers to consider whether civic restoration is possible through recommitment to democratic principles and constitutional values.
A Poem for Our Times
Rich in metaphor and steeped in political philosophy, The Shattered Eagle invites readers to confront the realities of democratic erosion while contemplating paths to institutional renewal. Drawing on the tradition of great political poetry like Yeats’s The Second Coming and Auden’s September 1, 1939, this work speaks to the universal struggle to preserve constitutional democracy and the rule of law in an age of mounting illiberalism.
The Shattered Eagle
Once soared an eagle, wings outspread, Its cry a clarion, freedom bred. From gilded heights, it carved the skies, Its dreams a nation dared to rise.
Yet winds of discord tore its plume, Ambition’s torch became its tomb. The golden thread of union frayed, As shadows deepened, hope decayed.
Where laws were forged by reason’s might, Now darkness shrouds their guiding light. Once sworn to serve the commonweal, They sold their oaths for power’s appeal.
The halls once rang with measured voice, Where reason swayed the public choice. Yet now the chambers echo lies, As honeyed tongues weave thin disguise.
No laws they craft, but favors they sell, To oligarchs who cast their spell. Once stewards strong, they now kneel low, To serve a leader’s fleeting glow.
The scales of justice, firm and true, Now tilt, corrupted, favoring the few. Once blind, now stained with partisan hue, They take their bribes in plainest view.
No fealty now to law's command, But whispers guide the justices’ hand. From lofty heights, the court descends, A tool for power, not amends.
The eagle's perch, the people's trust, Now yields to one with tyrannous lust. The laurels fall, the wreath departs, A crown is forged for lawless hearts.
No equal here, a king ascends, While truth dissolves and honor bends. The oath betrayed, the power abused, A throne of lies by fear infused.
The wheels once turned to serve the land, Now falter at one man’s command. Where duty reigned with steady hand, Now chaos thrives and rot expands.
The gears once turned with steady grace, Impartial hands for every case. Now oiled with fear, the cogs obey, A sovereign’s whims, the people's dismay.
No law to guide, no truth to bind, The constitution lies maligned. The servants sworn to guard the land Now yield to lash at one command.
Ideals once held as shining beacons, Now crumble ‘neath the weight of treasons. Their lofty light, now dimmed and lost, Is bartered for ambition’s cost.
The shining hill, a beacon high, Now shrouded 'neath a darkened sky. Its lofty dreams by greed betrayed, By hands of those whose hearts decayed.
No vision guides, no ideals inspire, But petty aims and base desire. The noble pact, to truth once sworn, Now trampled, tattered, and forlorn.
A fractured land, a shattered will, Where hatred reigns and hearts grow still. What union stood now falls apart, Its seams undone by poisoned hearts.
The land now split by faction’s line, Where rancor festers, hopes decline. The brother turns on brother’s hand, And hatred scorches all the land.
No union binds, no concord stays, But discord reigns in endless days. Society rent, uncivil, torn, A weary people, broken, worn.
...
A weary people, broken, worn, Where shadows fall and freedoms mourn. Yet seeds may bloom, if hearts remain, Resolved to rise through toil and pain.
Northcoast Antiquarian 