The blast woke that great and terrible monster,
Godzilla, from his slumber
at the bottom
of those darkest depths,
titanic nuclear thing unfurling
at the heart of the abyss.

Reptillian eyes glimmered in the murk.
Stretching out his arms and legs,
beating his tail against the ocean floor,
Godzilla began to swim towards the city.

Godzilla stopped sleeping. The whole world
seemed rife with opportunity,
profits to be had.
And, in the darkness of night,
Godzilla stomped his way towards the city.

Godzilla got a new motorbike.
The engine’s roar soothed him,
for a time.
And, in the darkness of night,
Godzilla stomped his way towards the city.

Godzilla found another woman to use,
his reptilian desire overcoming
whatever remained of his humanity.
And, in the darkness of night,
Godzilla towered over the border of the city.

And, in the darkness of night,
Godzilla’s throat began to glow.
Sizzling blue fire crackled in his mouth,
and then the city was dust and shadows,
a Hiroshima ghost.

I searched for you across wild oceans,
Never daring to dream that I would find
Such a *****, dangerous, delicious passion
Which, after more than four hundred summers, still burns hot.
But you are colder now.

When I discovered your riches,
I knew I had to possess you entirely.
The blood lost and the blood lust
Was worth it to make you mine.
But you are bolder now.

I never wanted to set you free.
Your Declaration of Independence nearly destroyed me.
I had to accept your right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,
To lose you completely would be unbearable.
You are the scolder now.

Like a white knight, your white light saved me,
As it seared through flesh, turning skin inside out and the whole world upside down.
You were Oversexed and Overpaid,
But I needed you Over Here beside me.
You are the shoulder now.

Through time and space, our destructive power has bound us together,
I have fallen; my heart is given; my soul is sold.
I'd lie for you, I'd die for you;
Take tooth for tooth and eye for eye for you.
It's all in a sexed up folder now.

Of late, others say you have grown so ugly;
Distorted and deranged with and beyond belief;
Frenzied and overcome with hate, but I still love you,
Still long for our special relationship.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder now.

anna jones ©2017

Michiko would never know
the strange creature that opened its bowels
that day, was named Enola Gay

she would remember the fine feel of the water on her face,
the taste of tea she had with her pears, and the odor of chrysanthemums through her window

the same window through which
her mother would stare, there, at the morning sky
at the smothering smoke of all creation

her brother was left a shadow
on a wall, nothing left at all of her father
who stood at ground zero

Michiko, only double digits the day before
would follow her mother down the long road
to the smoldering fires and scorched skin
and the stalking stench of the dead

on the path, along the way
but only that day, Michiko would see the black giant
growing in the summer sky
a magnet to her eye

more beautiful than all
the sweet flesh and shrines that fed it
a billion years in an instant
that August morn

Without Peace We All Know Where We're Headed......


Give peace a chance, will those of nobility declare
Intelligence of spirit, who could ever compare
Valiantly fighting the evil in the world, unwilling to fail
Earnestly helping those needy, without ever becoming frail

Peacefully sacrificing time and energy without ever reconsidering
Endangering themselves to constantly make a difference
Antagonizing the establishment for an instance
Coming home with battle scars to wear and none to share
Emphasizing they are not heroes, only that "they care"

Angering all others, for showing they disagree

Considering the options with nowhere to hide
Hiroshima and its aftermaths, would never subside
Attempting to disrupt, what those warmongers insist
No necessity to justify, the results do persist
Coming full circle does our world continue to exist
Ending in oblivion, if we don't learn how to desist

I plunge into the cold water on that warm July day
no goggles, only the loose-fitting swimming trunks
I swim through the blur of chlorine
pushing through the water
when a familiar tune I heard hours earlier traps itself in my brain
and I suddenly become weightless, a plane high above in the air

The water is pure blue sky, below me the clouds
And at the bottom the city in ruins
I take my plane and dive down below the clouds
past the blur, until the city is in view just below me

I level the bomber and let it soar low above the ground
Over the pale white shells of buildings
I remember the museum exhibit that inspires this flight

I walk through, studying the pictures and the uniforms and the weapons on display
when in the distance of the room beyond I hear the familiar tune:
Brian Eno's "Ascent (An Ending)". It brings me closer, and I move past the exhibits
at a quickening pace, past the slow browsers
glancing only briefly to read, to catch a glimpse of an object, a photo, a map

I keep going, "Ascent" on a loop, its minimalist beauty entrancing me
until I find a large television in a small corner.
A few people are gathered around, solemn,
the television entrancing them, the music washing over the room.

First the white words centered against the black screen: "The Bomb".
The come the white-and-black photos and footage of the mushroom clouds hovering above Hiroshima, then Nagasaki,
standing tall like ungainly trees in an empty field.

The soundtrack to the short video before me is "Ascent",
or rather an excerpt, a piece of it, stirring strange emotions
Familiar ones that I give attribution to when I listen to it on my own.
Yet it feels different coming from this;
on the screen a few photographs of corpses and burnt victims flash by.
And then the screen fades to black, a moment of silence
before it all starts again

I hear this loop and see these images before me as I fly above
the imagined city in ruins
And for a brief moment I am the Enola Gay;
I will only know it at the bottom of a hotel pool

It happened on a Summer’s morning
Hiroshima’s bomb once dropped upon that day
She was feeling tired and started yawning
Her crochet rug was tucked around her knees

Hiroshima’s bomb once dropped upon that day
The yellow capsules easily went down
Her crochet rug was tucked around her knees
She’d sent Arthur on a journey into town

The yellow capsules easily went down
She couldn’t stand another day of pain
She’d sent Arthur on a journey into town
At 82, she hoped they’d judge her sane

She couldn’t stand another day of pain
Two wars survived and still it came to this
At 82, she hoped they’d judge her sane
There was nothing left on earth that she would miss

Two wars survived and still it came to this
There is simply nothing more that can be said
There was nothing left on earth that she would miss
In a little while I hope I will be dead

There is simply nothing more that can be said
She was feeling tired and started yawning
In a little while I hope I will be dead
It happened on a Summer’s morning