Japandemonium. A poem for Fukushima.

My poet friend, Bill Engleson, from Denman Island in British Columbia, Canada, penned this superb piece and reads it sublimely. Enjoy.


Here’s the text for you to listen along.

I crawl into a vacant cubbyhole

in my brain (I have plenty of storage space there)

and sit cross-legged on the part of my jellied

noggin that can visualize;

I am by the sea. On a Friday afternoon,

there is a rumble, a tumble, an angry grumble

somewhere, off in the distance,

beyond my sight,

some devil , cresting

some sea ulcer erupting…

and I shimmy and shake.

I want to run

away from the sea, away from the rising wave tower,

soaring like some grotesque Godzilla, some wide-winged Mothra,

some namby-pamby Bambi meeting Tsunami Gorgonzola Godzilla,

the drilla killa,

a high speed freight train doom-zooming in from the spoiled and twitchy

sea; this irradiated gorilla-whale,

this hulking nuclear devil

this tsunami-commie who has no purpose

other than to lumber in,

in all its atomic beauty,

to come juggernauting over the

people who live by the sea and have expected nothing

less since Hiroshima Nagasaki Mon Amour…

I know it is coming.

Even in my mental exercising,

my legs rubberize,

I stall,

my bones and my being freeze up.

I see myself, footsteps in front of me,

feet falling ahead of me,

helmet cam capturing the way I will

run, fearing to look back,

knowing Godzilla fella

will scoop me up and rip me

apart and drown me,

and toxify me,

and break me into a million human twig parts

and eat me and kill me.

My Ja-panic escalates

as I sit cross-legged in the crawl-space part of my jellied noggin

that visualizes;

cross-legged and marvelling at the courage

or the inertia,

that would keep millions living by the

sea knowing Godzilla is always

impatient, always ready to roll;

to roll in and crush.

And I think,

as we all likely think,

there, but for the Ace of

Spades, or better grades,

or a different air raid,

or a jug of grog,

or a bump on a log,

or the face of a

dog, or

the Grace of any old

God, go I

One thought on “Japandemonium. A poem for Fukushima.

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