Poety for LENR and Life

I think Christmas say is as good a day as any, perhaps better than many, to reflect on the iniquities of scientific funding. This poem speaks to the heart of the split between 'big-money fusion' and the 'pocket-change nuclear' most of us here are interested in.

Take Away Your Billion Dollars. Arthur Roberts

1. Upon the lawns of Washington the physicists assemble,From all the land are men at hand, their wisdom to exchange.
A great man stands to speak, and with applause the rafters tremble."My friends," says he, "you all can see that physics now must change.
Now in my lab we had our plans, but these we'll now expand,Research right now is useless, we have come to understand.
We now propose constructing at an ancient Army base,The best electronuclear machine in any place.

2. It will cost a billion dollars, ten billion volts 'twill give, It will take five thousand scholars seven years to make it live.
All the generals approve it, all the money's now in hand, And to help advance our program, teaching students now we've banned.
We have chartered transportation, we'll provide a weekly dance, Our motto's integration, there is nothing left to chance.
This machine is just a model for a bigger one, of course, That's the future road for physics, as I hope you'll all endorse."

3. And as the halls with cheers resound and praises fill the air,One single man remains aloof and silent in his chair.
And when the room is quiet and the crowd has ceased to cheer,He rises up and thunders forth an answer loud and clear.
"It seems that I'm a failure, just a piddling dilettante,Within six months a mere ten thousand bucks is all I've spent.
With love and string and sealing wax was physics kept alive,Let not the wealth of Midas hide the goal for which we strive."

4. "Take away your billion dollars, take away your tainted gold, You can keep your damn ten billion volts, my soul will not be sold.
Take away your army generals; their kiss is death, I'm sure. Everything I build is mine, and every volt I make is pure.
Take away your integration; let us learn and let us teach, Oh, beware this epidemic Berkelitis, I beseech.
Oh, dammit! Engineering isn't physics, is that plain? Take, oh take, your billion dollars, let's be physicists again."

Based on Casabiance, with apologies to the authot. Some may know it as 'the boy stood on the burning deck.

Boris stood with burning cheeks,

Though all but he had fled;

The germs that bit our leader’s neck,

Sprayed round him o’er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm;

A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though rotund form.

The flames rolled on – he would not go,

Without Dom Cummings word;

An advisor, already run below,

His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud – ‘Say, Dom, say

Is Covid good for votes?’

He knew not that his chieftain lay

Not even writing notes.

‘Speak,Cummings!’ once more he cried,

‘If I may yet resign!’

– But the faint-heart ne’er replied,

As fast the flames rolled on.

Boris’ tousled locks did feel their breath

Aflame his waving hair;

As he look’d from his post of death,

In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,

‘Oh Dominic! Must I stay?’

While o’er him fast, by train and bus,

The flu-bugs made their way.

The virus spread in splendour wild,

It caught his arse on high

Impoverishing the middle class

Like bailiffs from the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound –

The Boris where was he?

His nobler parts not found,

The nation’s all at sea.

While nurses, doctors, stayed right there

And bravely bore their part,

Our leader could not stand up square,

He’s vanished like a fart.