Thu, 01 May 2008 10:52:27 -0400 support@imminst.org (ImmInst Forums) IP.Blog 60 New Gilded Age (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2007)

We were inside the bubble
headed for trouble
and found opportunity.
Subprime was sublime,
so we doubled down
and set off in search of prosperity.

Now, the stock market’s tanking
and Potter’s bank
is foreclosing on the family
who lives down the lane.

Poor babies, don’t cry.
Keep your powder dry
and welcome the New Gilded Age.

Death to the death tax!
Murder Medicare!
Squash Social Security!
So profiteers and cronies
can light up their stogies
in the embers of the American dream.

Let’s toast this once proud nation
where people used to rise above their station
with hard work and putting some money by.

Here’s to political phonies
along with their toadies
who rigged the game
so that we need three jobs
just to survive.

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Poem: New Gilded Age copyright © 2007 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem New Gilded Age as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2007. "New Gilded Age." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.bethbailey.net/copyright2007/gildedage.htm

]]> Mon, 28 Apr 2008 11:01:22 -0400 http://www.bethbailey.net for additional poems and hopefully a published poetry book in the not too distant future.
Kind regards,
Beth Bailey (aka "dorian gray")

Preponderance of Evidence (a poem by Beth Bailey © 2006)

When Galileo, like old Copernicus, said earth revolved around the sun,
the Inquisition compelled him to recant the heresy he espoused.
Modern theologians acknowledge past mistakes,
admitting (better late than never) heliocentric theory is correct.

More recently, fanatics declared: "the moon is made of green cheese."
Believers must convert or kill all those who disagree.
If despots demand obedience and do not allow dissent,
what happens when their ideology is inseparable from government?

Many people see God’s handiwork as it abides in nature,
but forget freedom to question doctrine
is bona fide in a democratic nation.
Religious tradition relies on faith to inspire social justice.
Science is meant to be used as a tool
for understanding the world around us.

It‘s not the work of religious sages to measure when earth got its start,
or to report that baby dinosaurs hitched a ride on Noah’s ark.
Scientists have fossil evidence of dinos from over 200 million years ago.
The dinosaurs were gone before humans first arose.

The book of Genesis requires six days for earth’s complete creation.
This differs from billions of years that have passed,
based on scientific calculation.
How do you reconcile the two?
Is there room for free will, logic, or critical thinking?
Is inquiry based on verifiable data (like the dinosaurs)
doomed to extinction?

The fittest organisms survive and pass their genes to the next generation.
This is how populations evolve over time, according to natural selection.
Fossils, computer models, and laboratory experiments
offer a preponderance of evidence.
The grand complexity of the universe is revealed
through scientific method.
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Poem: Preponderance of Evidence copyright 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem Preponderance of Evidence as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "Preponderance of Evidence." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.bethbailey.net/copyright2006/evidence.htm

]]> Mon, 21 Jan 2008 09:33:59 -0500 Flavor of the Month* (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2006)

The movies are crammed with
wall to wall car chases, explosions,
slasher gore and peep-show flesh.
Despite big budgets and bigger hype,
they are forgotten as easily as some
ice cream store flavor of the month.

Then the world takes little note
of how well celebrities fare when
public tastes change, or they’re
not so young and pretty anymore,
and the spotlight fades…

Once in a while, you catch them
in some odd appearance on the internet
or DVD, and you wonder,
"What ever happened to what’s-their-name?"

More likely, you don’t think about them at all
until they show up bloated and unrecognizable
on some reality television train wreck.

Sometimes it’s a salacious story in the tabloid media,
or maybe the gossipy obituary that nails them:
"So-and-so, who starred in such-and-such,
was found dead on you-know-who’s floor.
The cause of death is under investigation."

As the casket is lowered, the audience turns away,
hungry for the next juicy bite of schadenfreude.
Dirt and grass go to work on the fresh grave,
while the worms and maggots sing "hallelujah!"
giving thanks for their new flavor of the month.

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*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, machines, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Poem: Flavor of the Month copyright © 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem Flavor of the Month as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "Flavor of the Month." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.bethbailey.net/copyright2006/flavor.htm

]]> Sat, 19 Jan 2008 12:06:42 -0500 War Poem #1 (by Beth Bailey, copyright 2006)

It’s one of life’s perplexing mysteries
why people refuse to learn from history,
and so eagerly embrace
the world’s deadliest mistakes.

When man longs to commune with the divine
and claims to know what’s on God’s mind,
any evil seems justified
because the Lord is on his side.

Fundamentalists duly believe
everyone else will burn in hell
and God won’t bring on Armageddon
without strategic help from them.

There’s no room for rational debate
with those whose minds are fed by hate.
No extremist is ever immune
from heeding intolerance’s tune.

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Poem: War Poem #1 copyright © 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem War Poem #1 as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "War Poem #1." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.BethBailey.net/copyright2006/warpoem1.htm

]]> Thu, 17 Jan 2008 14:26:33 -0500 Ocean or Ground (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2006)

Listen,
Listen!
Forget your manmade rules,
those superstitious spells;
the vain conceit of heaven or hell--

Like brother Icarus,
we can race towards
the sun,
flying higher and higher
on D.I.Y. wings.

When the wax melts,
our borrowed feathers
disappear in every direction,
while we tumble
down and down
to ocean or ground.

Till- splat- flattened-
spattered,
we break into
a million sticky chunks
of meat and bone.

In more heroic times,
each piece would have
been scattered across
the sky as stars.

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Poem: Ocean or Ground copyright 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem Ocean or Ground as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "Ocean or Ground." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.bethbailey.net/copyright2006/ocean.htm


]]> Tue, 15 Jan 2008 09:16:31 -0500 Queens of the Cretaceous (a poem by Beth Bailey, © 2006)

Do we really know what
finally killed the mighty dinosaur?
Was it television, blogging, porn,
or the tyrannosaur taking strip aerobics classes,
empowering herself by learning to dance on a pole?

Her succulent children hide behind computer avatars
slaying enemies made of ones and zeros;
ignoring the comet light oddly illuminating the midnight sky;
paying no attention to the real monsters devouring the world.

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Poem: Queens of the Cretaceous copyright © 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem Queens of the Cretaceous as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "Queens of the Cretaceous." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.bethbailey.net/copyright2006/cretaceous.htm

]]> Sat, 12 Jan 2008 11:20:22 -0500 Death (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2006)

Death creeps in on little rat feet,
stealing over the body
like a criminal in the dark;
robbing everything you once believed
was yours.

The work is always professional;
sometimes, so neat in its stillness
you barely know death
had been there at all.

Other times, the struggle is messy
and painfully evident.

Either way, you can tell
by those infernal machines he carries,
death has done this countless times before.

To himself, it’s nothing personal-
simply a job that needs doing-
a public service, if you will.

After he’s gone,
your journey ends.
Promises of immortality fade.
The blanket of eternal sleep descends…

All that remains
is for those who mourn you
to make sense of what,
if anything, he let you leave behind.

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Poem: Death copyright © 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to print, distribute, and post the poem Death as long as you include proper citation and acknowledgment: Bailey, Beth. © 2006. "Death." Retrieved today's date, from http://www.BethBailey.net/copyright2006/death.htm

]]> Wed, 09 Jan 2008 10:37:48 -0500 Escape Velocity (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2007)

Deathists believe you should amiably croak
when nature has biologically appointed.
A few brief decades are all man merits
before he "shuffles off this mortal coil."

Extending human lifespan is bad precedent,
so say the ethically anointed.
Therefore, if you hanker to see the future,
prepare to be disappointed.

For this world is only a vale of tears
and don’t you ever forget it.
Resign yourself to that inevitable fate
and get your affairs in order.

Too many elders hobbling about
spoil Earth’s youthful junket
and the children can’t inherit your cash
if you refuse to kick the bucket.

Some think knowing man is born to die
is what makes him a proper human.
Don’t bother to argue or question why,
death is simply immutable.

Scientists may one day find a way
to achieve "escape velocity."
But, how do you persuade Homo sapiens
to embrace immortality?

It should be the obligation of our intellect
to surmount the body’s fleshy limitations.
Deathists claim this is a narcissistic notion
rooted in dread of personal extinction.

They’ll tell you man’s reach must not exceed his grasp.
Death is a sacred anthropological tradition.
Your grandparents, parents, you and your children
are all subject to this same cruel condition.

How do you decide if extreme longevity
is something humanity should be pursuing?
Think about the people, places, and things you love--
Ask yourself: are they worth preserving?

There is no reason to seek death while you remain healthy;
capable of contributing to family or society.
If that time could be expanded,
imagine how much richer the world would be…

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References:
de Grey ADNJ (2004) Escape Velocity: Why the Prospect of Extreme Human Life Extension Matters Now. PLoS Biol 2(6): e187. Retrieved October 1, 2007, from http://dx.doi.org/10.1371/journal.pbio.0020187

"Shuffle off this mortal coil." Mowat, Barbara A. and Paul Werstine, eds. Hamlet. Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington Square Press: New York, 1992; 127.

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Poem: Escape Velocity copyright © 2007 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved. Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to reprint and distribute the poem Escape Velocity as long as you include proper citation: Bailey, Beth. © 2007. "Escape Velocity." Retrieved from http://www.BethBailey.net/copyright2007/escape_velocity.htm


]]> Mon, 07 Jan 2008 17:57:08 -0500 Cryonics (a poem by Beth Bailey, copyright 2006)

We were young and felt immortal.
Though, time still had its way.
Years hurried past without warning
to leave only memories of sweeter days.

There should be angry indignation
because everything we are just fades away.
Is it inevitable that people age and die,
or can we repair the havoc nature plays?

Modern medicine, as we know it,
routinely saves lives once given up for dead.
Marvelous discoveries we take for granted
help us avoid our ancestors’ fate.

What if we could strike a bargain
to somehow keep death at bay?
Cryonics offers the possibility
that we might one day see this world again.

Some say freezing the body is too radical,
or the concept seems unsound.
Yet, the world of tomorrow may hold scientific wonders;
amazing inventions we can only dream about.

Our date with death remains arbitrary,
when the doctor tells us she can do no more.
That end point will keep changing
as technology and science evolve.

So, don’t bury my body to rot in the ground.
Don’t scatter my ashes in the wind.
I will gladly risk the unknown of a “frozen future”
for one chance to be with you again.
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Poem: Cryonics copyright © 2006 by Beth Bailey, All rights reserved.
Author retains the right to reprint this material in any publication.

Permission is granted by the author for readers to reprint and distribute the poem Cryonics as long as you include proper citation:
Bailey, Beth. "Cryonics." Cryonics Magazine: Alcor Life Extension Foundation. 4th Quarter, 2007: 24






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