Revision 2
Godzilla vs. Little Boy
a postmodern fable
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
You would have us believe
man did this to man—
truth fermented into such
bitter vintage.
Only a plane, a parachute,
and a child’s tantrum:
we reject this narrative.
Your monster fell
from the sky. Ours
have always been
beneath the surface.
Truth is in the breath that lit the horizon,
a burning afterimage shaming the sun,
in the cloud that rose
above the water, in the quiet
that seeps into each of us,
into the bones leaving us aphasic,
words reduced to faint scratches
in the dirt.
We witnessed the city’s reprisal.
Roof tiles spun like propellers
into the air
under a shroud of dark rain.
The blackened bodies continue
to clog the river.
Death it seems always comes
from the water.
The crater is his footprint.
The only truth is
that no one escaped
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
~~~
Revision 1
Godzilla vs. Little Boy
a postmodern fable
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
--anonymous
You would have us believe
man did this to man—
truth fermented into such
bitter vintage.
Only a plane, a parachute,
and a child’s tantrum:
we reject this narrative.
Your monster fell
from the sky. Ours
have always been
beneath the surface.
Truth is in the breath that lit the horizon,
a burning afterimage shaming the sun,
in the cloud that rose
above the water, in the quiet
that seeps into each of us,
into the bones leaving us aphasic,
words reduced to faint scratches
in the dirt.
We witnessed the city’s reprisal.
Roof tiles spun like propellers
into the air
under a shroud of dark rain.
The blackened bodies continue
to clog the river.
Death it seems always comes
from the water.
The crater is his footprint.
The only truth is
that no one escaped
the rationalization that if we kill
there will be peace.
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
```
Edit: Replaced distilled with fermented (tectak)
Edit: minor tweak S4 and S5
Edit: Removed the and's from S4
Original
Someone told someone a story
about the cloud that rose above the water,
the light that dimmed the sun,
and the awful quiet, settling
as a shroud of dark rain.
Survivors usually walk away,
only no one escaped
the rationalization that if we kill
there will be peace.
The roof tiles spun like propellers
launched into the air
in impotent reprisal
as blackened bodies floated
down the river. Our throats
finally too parched to drink.
You would have us believe
that man did this to man
that truth can be distilled:
to a plane, a parachute,
and measured in seconds.
We reject this narrative.
We have the footprint,
the shrill metallic roar,
the truth of the breath.
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
Godzilla vs. Little Boy
a postmodern fable
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
You would have us believe
man did this to man—
truth fermented into such
bitter vintage.
Only a plane, a parachute,
and a child’s tantrum:
we reject this narrative.
Your monster fell
from the sky. Ours
have always been
beneath the surface.
Truth is in the breath that lit the horizon,
a burning afterimage shaming the sun,
in the cloud that rose
above the water, in the quiet
that seeps into each of us,
into the bones leaving us aphasic,
words reduced to faint scratches
in the dirt.
We witnessed the city’s reprisal.
Roof tiles spun like propellers
into the air
under a shroud of dark rain.
The blackened bodies continue
to clog the river.
Death it seems always comes
from the water.
The crater is his footprint.
The only truth is
that no one escaped
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
~~~
Revision 1
Godzilla vs. Little Boy
a postmodern fable
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
--anonymous
You would have us believe
man did this to man—
truth fermented into such
bitter vintage.
Only a plane, a parachute,
and a child’s tantrum:
we reject this narrative.
Your monster fell
from the sky. Ours
have always been
beneath the surface.
Truth is in the breath that lit the horizon,
a burning afterimage shaming the sun,
in the cloud that rose
above the water, in the quiet
that seeps into each of us,
into the bones leaving us aphasic,
words reduced to faint scratches
in the dirt.
We witnessed the city’s reprisal.
Roof tiles spun like propellers
into the air
under a shroud of dark rain.
The blackened bodies continue
to clog the river.
Death it seems always comes
from the water.
The crater is his footprint.
The only truth is
that no one escaped
the rationalization that if we kill
there will be peace.
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
```
Edit: Replaced distilled with fermented (tectak)
Edit: minor tweak S4 and S5
Edit: Removed the and's from S4
Original
Someone told someone a story
about the cloud that rose above the water,
the light that dimmed the sun,
and the awful quiet, settling
as a shroud of dark rain.
Survivors usually walk away,
only no one escaped
the rationalization that if we kill
there will be peace.
The roof tiles spun like propellers
launched into the air
in impotent reprisal
as blackened bodies floated
down the river. Our throats
finally too parched to drink.
You would have us believe
that man did this to man
that truth can be distilled:
to a plane, a parachute,
and measured in seconds.
We reject this narrative.
We have the footprint,
the shrill metallic roar,
the truth of the breath.
Gojira, Gojira, Gojira
The cherry blossom
withers on the branch
echo of voices
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson