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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