"nagasaki" poems
i like it ickity split
mad to exceed the world
in dark dreams ******
to evoke blood wet mouths
insertions paradise of fluorescents
in a dark aperture
her pudenda
a rolling hill
gaudy wound like a smash mouth crying
split torn tearing, pink estuary
for gluttonies' joyride
that can hardly be endured
twisted tongue spice melts and glitters raw
the sheets soaked through
matted hair in saliva
blood and eggs
the screams of monsters rapture
oh feral abandon
every thing else a toil
winged genitals
hell toys for mama
like heaven cant know
his *****
like hanging bats
Nagasaki goes off in her ***
bodies; quake in silence
the bedroom; a chaotic bathroom
tulips shrill flutter
gulp and swallow milks flame
rosy welts laughing
flushing orgasm's
shoved urns
all spilled libations
touching and *******
crimson **** runnels
in bathhouse foam
down the drain
to earthen bowels din
where the dead push up daisies
i am the worm in the fruit
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
The youth
Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.
Youth is Coca-Cola,
Marlboro, whiskey and energy,
The eternal monologue of life,
ID number, property tax and Netflix.
Youth is John Lennon,
Che, Fidel and Hendrix,
Contemporary history,
ancient and medieval history.
Youth is pants ripped jeans,
Popsicle, lollipop, painted face,
Chicle, coffee and french fries,
Point G, miniskirt and condoms.
Youth is the Dalai Lama,
Techno, rave and rasta,
Drugs, drops and guitar,
Punk, samba and hopefully that-fall.
Youth is the opposite of the opposite,
It's a Friday at midnight,
Mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise,
X-salad, ham and cheese sandwich and X-men.
Youth is D-Day,
Vietnam, Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Testosterone, Woodstock and Waterloo,
Afghanistan, TPM and MTV.
Youth is a pressure cooker,
Isis, Syria, sukiyaki,
Anonymous, Al Qaeda, rice and beans,
Genesis, Revelation and mint candy.
Youth is weird,
Somewhat interesting.
An adult pop rock mix
With child soda pop.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
*
A shower of harmful Atom;
Wipe off,Hiroshima and Nagasaki, mothers; children ;
Soreness still strikes their hearts!
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
A HAIKU POEM
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
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
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
If you survive,
Go tell the world.
Not that you survived,
but of what happened.
Bring awareness to those,
Who were left in the darkness.
Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
9-11,
Parkland shooting,
Only naming a few.
For those whose voices are forever quieted,
Speak with the weight of their legacy on your shoulders.
But don't carry the load alone,
There are others who feel the same,
With tear-stained faces, their burden is heavier than yours,
So shoulder the pain together,
And survive.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.
"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.
"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.
"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.
To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.
"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
That Spring afternoon of my Upper-Middler year at Andover, I had just spoken with G. G. Benedict, the man who controlled, in effect, at which college you would matriculate. Columbia and Yale were at the top of my list. "Fine, fine, Tod. You've done very well here," he said. That evening, every student found a place to sit in George Washington Hall auditorium. Oppenheimer was to speak. I sat in the balcony, but I could see the man well. He looked as though he might have been around plutonium too long. Gaunt, pale, he began speaking. I cannot remember a single word he said that evening, but I will never forget the portentous feeling that came over me: DREAD (or should I say "dead"?) Over half a century after Oppenheimer's speech, humanity sits precariously on the cusp of extinction. A hydrogen bomb is 1,000 times more powerful than the atomic bombs we dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and there are thousand of hydrogen bombs we know about on Earth presently, not just the two atomic bombs Oppenheimer had. If only one hydrogen bomb accidentally explodes, scientists say that explosion will be enough to cause "Nuclear Winter." The sky around Earth will grow so dark that sunlight will not be able to penetrate it; thus, nothing will be able to grow and we will all starve to death. Every living creation on Earth will die. I think Oppenheimer, as smart as he was, knew, at least subconsciously, he had lit the fuse to inevitable annihilation of all living things.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 27, 2023
Apr 27, 2023 at 4:03 AM UTC
I'm a scientist *****
Don't you know what the means?
I've got a P.h.d in physics,
Bring ya down to your knees.
I'll find your resonance frequency ,
You'll be runnin' scared,
Make you quake like Nagasaki
E=Mc^2
Yea,
Ya know the ladies love me when they're rubbin up on me
I give em' cash they shake that *** they're gettin wet off this salary
I make a hundred thousand mother fuckin' Gs a year,
Now whatta you do?
Sit around smoke dope and drink beer?
You wanna shoot me?
You can try if you like,
But I can predict the path of a bullet in mid flight,
I'll drop you faster than gravity with the sound of my gat,
**** you with more certainty than Schrodingers cat.
Well,
Galileo, Galileo
Whats my name?
Your girl orbits my **** she gives me head everyday
You know what entropy says?
All things must come to an end,
Well I'm your catalyst *****
Make you wish you was dead.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Milestones Toward Oblivion
by Michael R. Burch
A milestone here leans heavily
against a gaunt, golemic tree.
These words are chiseled thereupon:
"One mile and then Oblivion."
Swift larks that once swooped down to feed
on groping slugs, such insects breed
within their radiant flesh and bones ...
they did not heed the milestones.
Another marker lies ahead,
the only tombstone to the dead
whose eyeless sockets read thereon:
"Alas, behold Oblivion."
Once here the sun shone fierce and fair;
now night eternal shrouds the air
while winter, never-ending, moans
and drifts among the milestones.
This road is neither long nor wide . . .
men gleam in death on either side.
Not long ago, they pondered on
milestones toward Oblivion.
Keywords/Tags: oblivion, milestones, markers, tombstones, radiation, fallout, nukes, winter, path, destruction, Armageddon, Apocalypse, nuclear, a-bomb, atomic bomb, hydrogen bomb, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Bikini Atoll, Manhattan Project, Trump, planet, earth, war, violence, America, environment, holocaust
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 2:40 AM UTC
Nagasaki failed and the lotus blossom wilts.
But he will never see it that way.
A man of fire took his time to take the shot.
And when he dropped the bomb,
the demons choir took a break from deceitful melodies.
Though they were never really heard
they still beat barrels of rice wine,
which they've converted to percussion ensembles.
The music of our souls flowing and swaying,
while our disembodied toes tap to the melody.
Never again, Nagasaki.
Never again.
Such travesty veiled by inhuman reason.
And I follow it to the end.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.
"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.
"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.
"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.
To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.
"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.
For all those who have walked in the horrors of war
and the grief too countless to tell.
Let us all pray in our way,
work in our days
for the end of war.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
I am the outlier
Feather wearer
Tired child of
The trial of tears
The back lashed
For being black
Brother of the
Burning Japanese
At Nagasaki
Open minded
And empathetic
The broken hearted
Lesbian, bisexual
Trans, homosexual
Dejected, rejected
And denied
Basic human rights
I am the immigrant
Who went
Through hell
To get here
To be demonized
I am flesh of your flesh
Blood of your blood
Lonely and struggling
Begging for mercy
And a little human decency
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Broken Layers..................................
Williamsji Maveli
CREATION:
On the first petals of Creation,
sensual honey drops down,
the destiny, the deed, and the creator,
filling the syntax of human body,
broken layers of meanings
scattered rhythms and tunes
SITUATION:
Situations beat the drums
Environment becomes "Tsunami"
"KATHRINA" blows the wind..
"RITA" shakes her *******
Whales swallow the waves,
Fire erupts on the Volcano's
Hiroshima and Nagasaki*
blossoms again
DESTRUCTION:
Baghdad is burning to ashes,
Legs of "September 11th"
is getting twisted
Someone is planting a bomb
in his own mother's womb
War weapons of suicide's
pierced the concrete jungles
Let not even a baby to be born again,
thirsting for milk,
bursting for food.....
By: Williamsji Maveli
Email:[email protected]
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 1:53 AM UTC
I have died many times. My body hung next to Jesus at Golgotha. I was once decapitated in the French Revolution. I’ve had my eyes gouged out at Gettysburg.
I have died many times. My chest was riddled with bullets on the beaches of Normandy. My lungs dissolved and I had a stroke in Auschwitz. My skin baked, bubbled, and blistered from Hiroshima to Nagasaki.
I have died many times. I bled out from a ruptured heart during Columbine. On 9/11, my rib caged cracked and I even stopped breathing.
_______________________________________________________________
I have died too many times. I shot myself in the head last night. Dream-spells dripped out from the void and so I shot myself through the heart, stuck my fingers in the hole to see if it hurt and it stung a little.
I have died too many times. I took an ax and split my head open; a flock of pigeons were pecking at my cortex. They flew out and church hymns rang from my cerebellum.
I have died too many times. I lit a bonfire in my brain; the light burst from my eye sockets and now my head is a paper lantern. I clawed at my chest till I ripped my heartstrings; they sung happy birthdays in Arabic so I blew out the fire.
I have died too many times. I took a baseball bat and busted my face open; I was swinging for the fences and swallowed my teeth on accident.
I have died too many times. I tore out my stomach, drank the acid, and ****** myself. I tried pulling my lungs over my head just to suffocate.
I have died too many times. When I discovered my spinal cord, I plucked it out, wrapped it around my neck, and hung myself from the tallest redwood I could find.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
Broken Layers..................................
Williamsji Maveli
CREATION:
On the first petals of Creation,
sensual honey drops down,
the destiny, the deed, and the creator,
filling the syntax of human body,
broken layers of meanings
scattered rhythms and tunes
SITUATION:
Situations beat the drums
Environment becomes "Tsunami"
"KATHRINA" blows the wind..
"RITA" shakes her *******
Whales swallow the waves,
Fire erupts on the Volcano's
Hiroshima and Nagasaki*
blossoms again
DESTRUCTION:
Baghdad is burning to ashes,
Legs of "September 11th"
is getting twisted
Someone is planting a bomb
in his own mother's womb
War weapons of suicide's
pierced the concrete jungles
Let not even a baby to be born again,
thirsting for milk,
bursting for food.....
By: Williamsji Maveli
Email:[email protected]
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
I type 'Life'.
My greatest invention yet. They are born and
they die according to this curve I drew up using my favorite software.
They'll see soft lights. They'll fight. They'll go.
Where?
I'm working on it
Still.
I type 'War'.
The adventures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
A bunch of sideshows
And there's a massive one scheduled at 8.54.
Stay to watch?
I type 'Love'. They like this a lot.
They react well to it.
Strange how they rise to their feet at the slightest presence of
Love.
I copy and paste
'Love love love love love love love love'
Then I crunch on a moon. Cold, sweet, juiceless.
Hmmmmm.
I type -
'Gobstopper'.
Aug 21, 2011
Aug 21, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC
Lip locking over the fishhooks in our cheeks.
I would have bled for you
Even if you never asked me to.
You love feels less like torture
And more like a special type of ****
A type that transcends a fleeting ****** high.
You keep me high.
We are poisoned harpoon heads
Biting into each other’s flesh.
We are swords clashing in battle.
We are refracting magnets,
Opposing armies holding atomic bombs
On our tongues.
My ribcage is Hiroshima.
Your hands are Nagasaki.
When we come together we make Chernobyl.
Your radiation setting my broken bones.
I just can’t get enough of your
Post apocalyptic voice singing funeral songs
Over the snapping of embers.
Your teeth clacking together like wind chimes
Reminds of the steady pop-pop-pop of machine guns.
Your eyes are the barrels of snipers.
We love in red and black,
Black and blue.
We love in cracking knuckles.
Scars like constellations telling lost stories in the sky,
You reminded me of a vampire
With the way you licked the blood from my lips.
You told me I was the sweetest thing
You’ve ever tasted.
A raspberry in a basket of blackberries.
We just can’t shake this red and black haze.
Remember when you tore my vocal cords
Out of my throat with your teeth?
Remember when I screamed horror movie
‘I love you”s into your mouth?
Remember how it echoed until you swallowed it
Along with my bleeding heart?
You left me ****** and broken,
Do you remember?
Do you remember your baseball bat arms
Breaking my ribcage?
Committing the burglary?
Do you remember the lacerations?
The scabs blooming in the shape of chrysanthemums?
Our love is a car crash.
Crazy and messy and deadly and sad.
But we just can’t look away,
Just can’t walk away.
Our love put me in the hospital
And I’m happy to pay the bills
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Who I took to be my saviour,
Was the very one that killed me,
When I felt really terrorized.
Nuke of loneliness imploded,
Not caring it was not the time,
Night now feels as if eternal.
Contained is this explosion,
Tears haven't fallen since long,
Of dire loneliness it's a gift.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
Hanging from your words
Like Jon Wayne Gacy
Over the concrete slabs of Babylon.
The women and children gather in the square
To celebrate the suicide of a totalitarian.
We've seen it before, but this time
In your arms
It will never repeat.
Endtimes. Nagasaki.
Why can't we lie here until paralyzed?
Let's just stay here until it's televised
As a sit-down strike against stars undefined
Communism capitalized, now I can die.
Living is over-rated
I want to get lost
In your chest.
I want nothing more than
To be crushed
Slowly
By the force of your thighs.
Lost in the raspberry tinge of a sigh
Swimming til drowning, til choking alive
Treading blood limply, floating inside
Dead in the river of your bloodstream.
Taken by rapids
To disintegrate
In your eyes.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:01 PM UTC
Sirens will sit, stand, sprint, and lay with you,
if you let them.
Sirens whisper of an incoming life
while sometimes, on the same night,
discussing one that is outgoing.
Sirens have told the people of Nagasaki, Hiroshima, and Dresden
that their air would be turned to ash,
sooner rather than later.
Sirens pull you to the side of the road
to tell you that you're going too fast,
so maybe slow down a little.
Now modern Sirens have taken the face of man,
the voice of man.
They whisper not to the sailors;
but to the people in their cars,
in their places of work
and in their homes.
(buy my product)
(become a member)
(Listen to Me.)
Maybe control is swaying
and man is being changed,
persuaded to
sit, stand, sprint and lay
with Sirens.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
Forget the school children
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Or the 1,000,000 dead in Vietnam;
60,000 dead in Iraq;
30,000 and rising in Afghanistan.
How many by our proxies
in El Salvador, Nicaragua,
Guatemala, Chile?
Forget the millions dead
in nameless civil wars
or of preventable
poverty and disease
in various hell-holes
around the globe.
The rest of the world
may be sorry,
but not shocked:
they have come to know
the smiling murderers
we have become.
20 dead of madness
in Connecticut
and the US wallows
in drivel, kitsch,
hollow words,
self-pity, and
media frenzy.
A little arrogance here?
Oh, we love our kids,
(just no one else's),
so let's put black ribbons
on our cars
and call that enough.
Again, the culture
of selfishness, greed,
shallowness
and patriotic stupidity
rears its
predictable head.
No country that murders
the world's children
with a shrug
should be surprised
when that violence
turns inward.
"I am Vishnu
Destroyer of worlds
My name is Death"
You can't have it
both ways.
"We must love one another
or die."
mce
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
Rinse
Repeat
A simple man, trapped by society,
Raised to feel indebted to his family
His fantasy is printed and framed
Above the job's lobby. A beautiful
Scene of the mountains in Nagasaki.
The clear air clears the clouds
Of the the solvent factory
So he sits and stares
Ever unsure of his trajectory.
Rinse
Repeat
The quality of his life is priced
At $4.50. If he can't get his fix
Of burritos and churro sticks,
His world turns to bricks.
His grip slips.
The slight weight shift on his hips
Strips his exuberant demeanor
Like a lunar eclipse.
Rinse
Repeat
When he tries to adlib the script,
Life and love kicks him in the intelligence.
His happiness doesn't take precedence
Over the dead presidents he needs
To keep his residence. It's evident
In his directionless aggressiveness,
He feels irrelevant to his existence.
So, he slows the pistons of his brilliance.
Rinse
Repeat
His silence has made him forget his presence
He's become convinced that washing metal prints
Isn't against his will. That the fulfill-
Ment of another's vision is the pill
To his sickness. Like the use of litmus
Will heal his mental limpness
Between 9 and 5. The only thoughts
He completes are rinse and repeat
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
Yes I heard and cried
knowing that you have died
in the midst of that ******
sinful ruckus of Nagasaki
but fate is no longer great
tip-toed twinkle of a pathetic
plunge over the dying Sakura
I have not changed for years but
you, you have changed
for the romance, for the sanity
of your everlasting dance.
Fatal, it is fatal, they said.
Denial, it is a denial, I said.
The balloon has escaped for years
and it can only haunt us for years,
but now,
The balloon waved at me
as I was caught red-handed
by an atomic, stoic handshake
drowning athazagoraphobia,
so I left the *** unattended
and I wander for a sweet end
in Misaki, Sennichimae,
calm, youthful exuberance I love
I no longer remember
the lasting kisses
that she left,
as a soliloquy in May.
I am lost in the wildest dream
of an eternal existence.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 7:18 AM UTC
Midway- Surprise! We saw them
Coming from a mile away.
Japanese aircrafts and ships try and attack,
And they get their butts whooped!
And then we got the idea to island hop!
Hop to Iwo Jima- Slowly.... Slowly.... Don't scare it,
It's like a nest of bees!
And we got it! Two air bases captured
And one step closer to the mainland!
Japan may be fortified, but we
Have tons of muscle!
Hop to Okinawa- this one was a doozy...
The biggest amphibious battle of WWII,
And contained the most casualties! Pretty harsh.
Maybe you they shouldn't have attacked us in the firs place!
We only meant to invade and use the island as a
Springboard towards the mainland, but the
Battle took too long.
Just weeks after the fighting ended, Japan surrendered
And we bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki!
We never got to invade...
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC