by Nick Gisburne
A golden future, easy street
A plan to live forever
The wealthy, prosperous elite
A privileged endeavour
With life to spare, the wealthy knew
Their gold would pay to freeze the few
And someday they would rise anew
At no risk whatsoever
For as they slept their stocks were sold
Invested and inflated
Converted into coins of gold
All fully automated
A scheme of elegant finance
Though shares might fall, the safer stance
A hoard of gold, cut free from chance
Could never be frustrated
For centuries these cold machines
Preserved the wealthy gentry
Their vaults, made stronger by all means
Where gold alone gained entry
Regimes saw change, and borders too
But one thing that was always true
The value of pure gold still grew
The concept elementary
No faults or failures, large or small
No shutdowns or disasters
Then came the time to wake them all
To thaw their frozen masters
And slowly now, from head to feet
A little more, a little heat
Revived the future’s new elite
Who knew they would outlast us
Strapped into beds, for safety’s sake
Sustained by deep injection
They wondered how long it might take
To leave this strict protection
In darkness nothing could be seen
Until a console light showed green
And through a now-clear window screen
The price of resurrection
Arrayed around a central hold
The rich, some seven hundred
Each faced, full on, their pile of gold
The fortune they had plundered
On every face, in every aisle
An arrogant, conceited smile
Their master plan was all worthwhile
Yet somehow they had blundered
The rich awoke, a triumph, yes
A miracle of science
But of the frozen, who might guess
The prize for such defiance?
A shattered earth, scorched black and red
Dark oceans, poison pools of lead
The human race forgotten, dead
Survived by this alliance
They lie, immobile, captive here
Upon these beds, forever
The gold they once learned to revere
A wretched fools’ endeavour
They sacrificed their lives for greed
Each coin a sterile, worthless weed
A golden future gone to seed
No future now, or ever
