Only the dead
know the end of war
Cursing the living
to forever endure
Rich people gifted
to hide in the past
Where nightmare’s amend
— their terror recast
(Tribute To George Santayana: January, 2026)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Online) - Published: January 21st, 2026 08:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange

Online)
Comments3
Now this one takes some thinking to grasp but in its beauty it is worth it
I wrote in An Anthology Of Perception years ago ... The Only Time We Escape
The Jungle Is In Self-Delusion.
This is a compact indictment, Kurt. War isn’t resolved…it’s inherited. By invoking Santayana without leaning on him, you let memory do the accusing. What lingers is the sense that forgetting isn’t peace…it’s privilege. Very strong poem. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks, and I agree wholeheartedly that war is like a birthmark worn
with both glory and shame.
You're welcome, my friend.
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