Too deep to ride out on a bicycle, but nearly ponographic when the nuclear option is considered as a solution for an earth running out of resources because of too many people.

Double Penetration


Going deep to find the gold
No transmutation ultimate
Alchemist’s secret retold—
Sun reaction products make
Physicists say: “Neutrinos”
Writ cloud chamber graffiti
In Nobel particle casinos
Massless moving speedy
Old Sol from Helios fame
Probing our deep mine frame

These things have a way of evolving: See where this poem went by looking here

">>>>((!"

This week I read, Brotherhood of the Bomb: The tangled lives and loyalties of Robert Oppenheimer, Ernest Lawrence, and Edward Teller primarily because I am interested in Ernest Orlando Lawrence, Nobel Prize (1939) for the invention of the cyclotron, for whom the California Laboratories were named. The context of his life was framed by the development of military sponsorship of research which is so predominant today.

Capital Offense

$$$... ambitious fire of fame
Played out for science acclaim
Hot war transmutted ... cold ...
These ghastly tales here be told
How it became our master
Leading us to face disaster---
Planets may explode and burn
But we will get our just return.

This poem is a reflection on what drove the process as the bomb turned research into a government sponsored enterprise.

Find other poetry sites with a search of "blogspot poetry"

The Art of War

Atom
Smasher Lawrence
Cyclotron Opera’s
tragic nuclear aria:
bomb blasts

Heard in White House far, far away

Evolution of Bedtime Prayer

“Twinkle, Twinkle ...
Looking through my telescope
Just beyond Antares
I spotted my father’s Oldsmobile
Rolling off the line
Yep! There she was, correct serial number and all
Wait a minute
My father never had an Oldsmobile
I checked the website again
Father–Oldsmobile–serial number–telescope
It all checked out
I remember when they found out some Oldsmobiles
Were sold that had Chevy motors
I had found the other half of the story
Oldsmobiles with Chevy serial numbers
Another American myth, crushed,
Broken and stolen.

It’s like: “She wasn’t really a virgin after all!”
And she didn’t mean it when she said
“My hero will always have a leather neck.”
Not only that
But think of it.
If I have discovered these alien-auto-theft bad guys
Maybe I can get her virginity back
If I look in the right place
Avoid all the other black holes
Correct Dad’s obituary
Get drafted by the Dodgers instead
Hit my dinger
Get the rocket off in time
Catch the evil space-doers
Before planet earth runs out of oil
And Oldsmobile back seats are no longer good enough
To convince mom that Elvis
Really was a star
Who came out at night
On that hill out by the lake
Where I came to be... me.
The rest will be history.

... how I wonder where you are.”