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Poem

My name is Nolan Greenstier,
and I fly a B-52,
on my daily ocean patrol
keeping lookout for the Kaiju.

I know this sounds ridiculous,
like some B-movie from back when,
cube-square law prevents big monsters,
that is what we all thought back then.

Until one emerged off Maui,
three hundred feet tall and irate,
he marched ashore, stomped everything,
the south shore he did devastate.

The navy and air force went out
and joined in with a great barrage,
Tomahawks, Harpoons, lasered bombs,
the beast was much too big to dodge.

That first one was mightily tough,
but it fell to sustained attack,
and all then asked, what should we do
if one of these monsters came back?

This did prompt so much discussion
of how best to handle the threat.
Giant robots? Nuclear bombs?
Commandos attacking the head?

Some eve said,”Take DNA!”
Grow friendly monsters, they figured.
The military ignored them,
they simply made their bombs  bigger. 

So now I fly with four warheads,
the ‘Scar’ Kaiju-killing missile,
five thousand pound explosive inside
turns the beasties into gristle.

With a hard, armor-piercing head,
it will slice through the toughest hide--
Hey look! A G-class Kaiju down there,
lock on, he is going to die!

The technician finds body-heat,
and four missiles streak away,
the beast lurches, pumps out deep read,
then slowly slips beneath the waves.

They never reach shore anymore,
not since they chose to make on men,
we’re wiped out whole species before,
now I guess we’ll do it again.

Say hello to Small Pox for me, Kaiju...

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