The Radioactive Man

The Radioactive Man

This is my humble tribute to the radioactive man,

Who returned to the nightmare from which everyone else ran.

And for 4 years, he's been working hard,

In a region from which everyone is barred.

The Fukushima incident  brought great suffering,

Yet the survivors had someone for their comforting.

But what about those who were left behind,

Living souls like us, their salvation denied?

A great population, pretty much like us they were,

Then what? They were left all alone to suffer.

Some were left as they were, in cages or chains,

Others roamed helplessly, scouring the drains.

This was the plight of the animals of Fukushima,

About rescuing them? Neither a  plan nor a schema.

Their road was more or less heading to a dead end,

But there just happened to be for them, a luck bend.

By the way, who said heroes were young folks?

Naoto Matsumura is worth dozens of those blokes.

At 50, his family are the pitiable survivors,

Of the 12.5 mile radiation zone with no supervisors.

He'd returned for them, knowing the risk,

Whose effects on his body'd be quite brisk.

In a city where nothing's left but standing stone,

'The Guardian of Fukushima's animals' he's known.

Lives in his farm, surrounded by animals,

He being the admiral, they his generals.

Alone he takes care of not only cats and birds,

But of dogs, rabbits even cattle and their herds.

"I couldn't have cared less" he casually says,

When people point out radiation and his ways.

Redefining love and affection here comes a man,

We proudly call him, 'The Radioactive Man of Japan'.

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Dreams

Dreams

Close your eyes! And get ready to dream,

Light 'em up with your imagination's gleam.

Create an intricate mystical world of your own,

Fill it up with all the quixotic stuff you've ever known.

The closed door that's blocking your view,

Gently knock at it and just walk through.

It's the door of imagination, of fantasy unheard,

Which as a rule would seem most absurd.

Take a walk in the gardens of fantasy,

You shall come to face with a reality.

The reality of dreams, so profound, so true,

It's sparkling beauty, hiding in plain view.

Dream as though you never could have thought,

Of all the beautiful places you ever sought.

Of open fields, warm sun, and the unending sky,

But, most important of all, never let them go wry.

For they are different, original like people's views,

And now as such I'd quote Sir Langston Hughes:

"Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird,

Unable to fly."

"Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go,

Life is a barren field,

Frozen with snow."

Thus, dreams are precious and now you know why,

So wake up every morning but don't say good bye.

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Introspection

Introspection

The Brain

The brain always found its human weak,

Impractical, sentimental, emotional. Meek.

Yet the human preferred over it its counterpart,

The unpredictable, unworthy organ. The heart.

The heart would make him laugh and cry,

'Encourage him to set futile goals sky high.

The heart would warmly console him then,

As he'd fail to achieve his goals time and again.

The brain had no feelings towards the pitiable soul,

And felt that it alone should be in control.

Of his body, his actions it'd be the supervisor,

As it was more practical, therefore wiser.

The Heart

The heart was a gentle, humble piece of flesh,

And unlike the brain, it'd constantly need to refresh.

Yes, it was sentimental yet it'd feel strongly,

Against any deed done to a person, wrongly.

It felt sad that the human favored the brain,

And yeah, the brain's maturity it'd never attain.

But nonetheless it toiled hard and more it would,

To keep it's human happy and everyone it could.

The human tries to find the logic behind everything,

Love and compassion means to him nothing.

He lives but to fulfill his unending greed,

Yet the heart would be there when it he'd need.

The Human

The human felt neither of what the two said,

He'd try to stop their arguing till he dropped dead.

Amidst brain the practical and heart the sentimental,

Was stuck someone. Human the judgmental.

Was always at the loss of words and deeds,

Owing to the two viciously arguing fiends. 

At times he was firm, cold and practical,

And at others, he'd be overly sentimental.

Each would draw him towards its worthy self,

In an effort to completely merge him with itself.

The human would resist, but sometimes he couldn't,

When some trouble got the better of him, he wouldn't.

With the heart breathing fire in his veins,

The brain tormenting him with losses and gains.

He eternally chained each one of them, utterly rebellious,

Each to the other's view competently impervious.

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