Those we thought were long interred
Are with us again;
Systems, laws, democracies
Dance to their refrain.
Their canny words bring certitude
To importunate illusions;
While sober citizen checks the facts,
They float fresh delusions.
Generation next has had enough
Of reading and reflection;
Their vote is for a vicious byte,
And instant, decisive action.
And when such action backfires
With destructive, thunderous thud,
They call the self-evident catastrophe
A mere enemy dud.
The ghosts who walk deploy this breed
To raise a righteous shout
Whenever a sensible argument
Or a brute fact is about.
Thus are nations once again
Strengthened in noise and hate,
And rendered invincible
Against thoughtful estimate.
Glittering scenes are organized
So the wretched of the earth may know
That misery is best wished away
By mounting a mega-show.
Those that choose to stand their ground
Soon hear a midnight knock;
Some fall in line eventually,
Some are sent to the dock.
What state could ask for a better fate,
Or superior governance?
We say the world is best managed
By puissant ghosts in trance.
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