Poetry for Peace. Day 10 Poem 10. They're at it Again

I regard war, promotion and advocacy of, the primary lunacy blighting mankind's efforts to reach the stars. It's got to stop and there is no reason on God's green Earth that it can't. We merely have to recognise that war is not a natural state for sane human beings.
It takes a lot of effort and hard work for the insane members of our societies to get the rest of us upset enough to embrace it. Those who work so hard to get war going ARE insane. Recognise them and get them out of our road for they are as bloody nuisance. We are going to have to choose between immortality or extinction. I hope today's poem  communicates those sentiments.

They're at it Again

by Steve Cook

God help us, they’re at it again!
The cabalist powers collude
To sell us yet another
Profitable war.
Their manufactured pain
Unbroken spans in chains
The troubled story of our
Broken world.

They’re at it again!
Lie builds on lie on ruse on subterfuge,
The sticky web of divide-and-rule
Spun by media whores,
The humanitarian treason of
Devious demagogues and cynical profiteers.
They’ll not stop until their
Words fall on deaf ears,
Their exhortations break like spears
On the castle walls of Reason.

They’re at it again!
Frightened men gone insane
Or driven there by the hand of
Some unseen puppeteer
Keep the rest of us restrained,
Like gods in chains, shackled
To our own learned hatreds
And imagined fears.

They’re at it again!
Bewildered nations are stampeded,
Like frightened herds by
Endless repetition of the same trite noises,
Suckered by shallow persuasions
That compel the endless repetition
Of the same dreary slaughter
And this the world is made Hell.

They’re at it again!
In a world managed by gaolers with
Neither soul nor imagination,
Nothing in essence has changed
Since the days of Rome or the pharaohs
And, no doubt, earlier
Long-dead civilisations.
The same, dreary live-die-repeat
Automation masquerading as ideas rolls on.

They’re at it again!
Internecine slaughter, brother
Against brother, sister, daughter
Responds to the push-button mania
Of strutting self-important loons
Whose febrile trigger-fingers forever
Hover on the bomb.
The perverts spew platitudes,
Accusations paraded as fact,
Gift-wrapped in half truths
Whose devoted effort and insincere aplomb
Would tear asunder Man’s natural bonds
Of kinship and brotherhood.

Yes, they’re at it again!
Truth is, we’ve more in common
With those we are persuaded to kill
As we applaud the bombers that level
Neighbourhoods and schools,
Than those at whose bidding we
Become fools or fodder for their cannons,
Beasts of our own making,
Fashioned in their demonic image.

They’re at it again!
But their game’s nearly up.
Survival’s a team game with
The stars to be won.
We can’t play or win it unless we stop
Letting the Fifth-Column subversive foes of Man
Browbeat us into beating each other up.

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