Governmentium Poem by Mervyn Graham

In the annals of science, a tale unfolds,
Of an element, heavy, as the story is told.
Governmentium it's called, with symbol Gv,
A mass of morons, a spectacle to see.

One neutron it boasts, and assistants galore,
Deputies, too, in abundance, and more.
Together they form, a weighty affair,
Held by moronic forces, in a state so rare.

No electrons dance, in its inert frame,
But its presence is felt, all the same.
For it hinders reactions, with its sheer might,
Turning seconds to years, in its stubborn fight.

Its half-life a mystery, two to six years,
A reorganization, amidst the cheers.
For morons become neutrons, in this dance,
Creating isodopes, with every chance.

A Borisium realm, where morons converge,
Creating a mass, a critical surge.
And with money's catalyst, a transformation,
To Administratium, in the culmination.

Radiating energy, like its predecessor,
With pillocks renewed, and morons fresher.
Thus, the saga of elements, continues to dive,
In the realm of science, where mysteries strive

Mervyn Graham (cc 2024)