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There is no god,
We know that now,
No righteous way,
No need to bow.

There's us and time,
And space galore,
Muons, quarks,
Sun-stars and more.

But meaning hides,
A shy allusion,
We pray with faith
And find delusion.
We have to talk about the bomb.
The atom bomb.

I know you are not worried.
But you should be.

You don't know about the bomb.
Oh sure you're aware, sort of,
That we killed,
One hundred and fifty thousand
Japanese civilians
In a heartbeat.

Like instantly.

But those bombs were toys.
Compared to the **** we have now.

So if y-o-u have the staying power,
This is what happens.
When we drop a nuclear bomb
Over a major city.

The bomb detonates
Between 1 to 4 kilometers
Above the city.

In order to maximize death and destruction.

Yes, that's how military leaders think.
Maximum death.

First everyone on the ground
Goes blind
That's how powerful the flash is.

Then a rain of heat, millions of degrees,
Followed by fire,
Destroys everything
In a mile radius,

Like ******* everything,

People, buildings, power lines,
Police cars, the homeless
Churches, playgrounds,
Sports stadiums,
Grocery stores,'
***** houses,
Daycare centers and more.

But that's only the beginning.

Then comes the 500 m.p.h. wind
You don't know what a 500 m.p.h. can do.
So here are some thoughts.

Buildings are hurricane proofed
Up to a max of 300 mph.

Goodbye to every structure
Within the radius.

This wind will peel the pavement
Off the roads.

The rubble you walk across,
Because there isn't any city left
Will be fifty feet deep.

This all happens in seconds.
Like no ****, you could go out
And walk around
Five minutes
After the blast,
And have a ****,
Although it might be difficult
To find a coffee shop and hang.

But we are not done.

Then the fallout
Fallout is all the **** and debris and particles
Like the powdery concrete,
From a collapsed Trump Tower,
Or the ionized particle from inside the bomb
That gets swept up and
Pushed high into the sky,
The mushroom cloud,
Where it drifts whichever way
God tells it too.

And it's all radioactive.

Which means what?

Radioactive means all the little particles
En masse,
Are spitting radiation.

What the **** is radiation?

Well when you are sitting on the beach,
Watching the nearly naked, frolic and frenzy
That little sunburn you get
Is the sun radiating you.
Transferring its energy to you,
Until you look like a twizzler. ( red licorice).

And you know how sometimes
When the military is putting on a show,
And some young soldier flops over
From the heat?
That's an effect of radiation.

Nuclear bombs radiate like mother-*******.
The sun in your backyard kind of ****
But nuclear bomb radioactive particles aren't hot.
Or even warm.
They are fairies,
With
Their electrons messed up
From the explosion,
And they can ride God's wind for hundreds of miles.

And when one of those little ionized buggers
Finds you,
Goes right through your skin,
Goes through most everything
Until it whizzes by a cell,
Where it stops in,
Has a house wrecking party,
Where you lose your hair,
And everything else,
And you die,
Because all your cells get confused.
(Think cancer treatment on steroids for
a hundred miles in every direction)

So when we elect a psychopath,
Who cannot think,
Cannot reason,
Cannot project
Has neither empathy
Or sympathy,
Is uneducated,
Slow thinker,
Greedy as ****
And not very bright
He has about
2000 of these to play with.

Seriously?
 Oct 28 Innocent
Hank Helman
I farted at Yoga,
And it wasn't a toot,
Think foghorn,
Or moose call,
A trombone salute.

The relief was enormous,
God's gift is a gas,
Who ever thought tranquility,  
Would burst from my ***.
 Oct 28 Innocent
Hank Helman
End
Do not spit and tease me
With your duchess anger,
Or flaunt your sad pose,
Or **** with me,
By sigh or sob,
Wet cheeks red and damp,
A trickle lick of salt and tears.

I'm empty.
Do you hear me?

Drained pallid and lip crackle dry,
Not even a ******* stain of me to be found.

I can't see my shadow or myself
Hear my shouts,
Feel a fingerprint
Or even smell the blood stink
We conjure up on the hottest days.

I am gone. You can have the dogs.

Why do you hate me?
What did I do
That makes you stone me
With a constant guilty glare

Why do you look at me
That way.


It wasn't my fault.

She died.

In my arms.

Do you get that.

I could feel her heart beating.
And then I couldn't.

I slipped into a hero panic.
I ran twelve miles
With her dead ******* body in my arms.

But she was dead.

Before I began.
She was dead.

And now so are we.
I won't be in touch.
Again.
Ever.
This is a note a character left in a short story I wrote. About break ups.  Which always have so many layers to them.
 Oct 24 Innocent
Hank Helman
What is time,
Where does it flow,
Your kiss was here
Only moments ago.

Your laugh, your love,
Assigned to the past,
Your smile a ghost
Leaves me aghast.

What trick is time,
A one way *****,
Climb up, not down,
Harsh misanthrope.

Gone now this one
Who made me whole,
Time's rude gift,
A hollowed soul.
We cannot fear death our stoic fate. Love now, love long, it's not too late. Goodbye my love.
 Oct 11 Innocent
Hank Helman
Karla called me at 2 a.m.
Define love, she said without preamble,
Or introduction,
And in her vox humilus morning coffee voice.

Well I'd love to sleep right through the night, I replied,
And waited,
Hopelessly,disappointingly
For the snort.

Karla,
A woman who howls  at knock knock jokes,
Can absorb sarcasm like a coral reef sponge,
Consume it, digest it,
And spit it out like tobacco juice,
Held her breath and counted to ten.

Give me a one sentence definition , she demanded,
Try and convince me, she said.

Well love is when we take responsibility for the
Happiness of another, I said,
And searched my darkened bedside table,
For what I knew was a nearly full
Bottle of beer,
Which I, of course,
Lifted to my lips,
Despite the fly floating on its back.

Karla was silent.
Not unusual.
'Conversation is not a contest' is stenciled
On her Sunday T-shirt and
She never cries.
Out-loud.

So love is pain, she finally replied.

Did she die, I asked her feather soft.

Yes, minutes ago,she replied.

Come by, I said,
We will take a bath,
Drink from the bottle,
And reminisce with the lights off,
For as long as it takes.
Knock knock
Who is there?
I smell mop.
I smell mop who.
Ew!

Joke from the interweb
A night moon bold and bright,
A diamond sky with tinsel light,
A girl, a boy, a kiss, a cry,
Lover's list to quiet sigh.
Memories. Can we relive our precious moments? Maybe, with poetry. Only art can save us.
 Oct 4 Innocent
Born
I hate being caught in the crossroads of thinking, wanting and believing
She asked me if I would die for her.
I said yes instantly.
Without thinking.
There was no decision to sift.

The fact that you said yes
Is insignificant, she said.
That you didn't delay means everything and all.

I'm not sure I understand, I replied,
And we stopped,
Turned,
And faced each other.

Reluctance is a carcinogen, she said,
Love cannot, will not, must not hesitate.
Willingness is where we fuse.

I smiled. She kissed me.
Autumn wept without a tear.
 Sep 26 Innocent
Hank Helman
Drunk wind.
Winter's first punch,
A knuckled fist,
Stamps a bully's bruise,
A constant cult of cold abuse,
No hat, no hope,no coin,no ride,
An icy trail, a slippery stride,
As cracked and lacquered lips
Turnstile and freeze.

Freak storm.
Snow banks and barricades,
A braille ice forms in black brocade,
Flesh hues from flourish pink,
To black and blue.
Tears crystallize and shatter,
Teeth calypso clap and chatter,
Fingers tunnel down the the warmest niche
And flee.
I once spent 8 hours on the side of the road in minus 30. It wasn't fun. Winter in my part of the world is often a bully.
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