Deja Vu Poem by William B. Deutscher

We repeat
our ridiculous ways.
Bloated absurdity.
Farcical displays
for all to see,
no semblance
of dignity.
Bad history,
repeated
in modified form.
We never learn.
What can be done?
A little humility
on our part
is in order
perhaps:
Time to pop
our balloon
of self-importance
and shoot down
the pompous blimp
of our self-love,
riding high
in the not so friendly skies.
We've got to stop this
nonsense,
but I don't think we will,
we're guilty of the worst kind
of overkill,
preening away
in the sizzling fat
of our own design.