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Poetry Magnum Opus

Company Class


dedalus
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I could never run away

from a bad situation.

You can die they say

from radiation.

 

Come home, come home,

but not too soon,

Fukushima.

 

Fuku means happy.

Shima means island:

Happy Island.

 

Happy island?

 

A strange cloud seems to be gathering

outside my window ... I find it suddenly hard to breathe.

Alarm bells are going off somewhere. I hear voices.

I am on the floor. Thin Lizzy comes ringing in my brain:

Whiskey in the Jar. Ahhh ... not a bad way to go.

 

The phone rings: What?

You're late for work.

I think I’m dying, all right?

OK, you need a Doctor’s Note.

I’m dying, OK?

 

Hmmm. What if I want

to die without being dead?

 

She says I need a note, please.

I love our office secretaries.

 

The phone rings again

You're late for work.

Do you fuckin mind?

I am composing a poem.

 

Look here. You either write poems

or you go in for gainful employment

open and available for the likes of you

at 5000 Yen per hour. Do you understand?

 

Poetry goes out the window.

I drive and I drive behind the trucks on the highway

under rain and fog and weather conditions

until I finally get to the company classroom

where I meet quite lovely people.

 

They could have run away, too,

but of course they would never have done so.

It’s very hard not to sort of love them

as they earnestly try, in their company uniforms,

to deal with demon English.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Frank E Gibbard

Did you say fuk you means happiness (icebreaker) please excuse the levity (no offence to the place). How we deal with the serious. This sounds scarily serious Bren. Experience to share at a suitable distance, good luck to the country in such perils and those good people by the sounds of it. As well phrased as ever,

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Actually, it's "fuku", Frank. Fuku, Fuku, Fuku (fookoo) ... Happy, Happy, Happy! Yes, well, it's a bit of a weird country -- possibly one of the reasons I stay here. See PC for a longer reply.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Frank E Gibbard

Actually, it's "fuku", Frank. Fuku, Fuku, Fuku (fookoo) ... Happy, Happy, Happy! Yes, well, it's a bit of a weird country -- possibly one of the reasons I stay here. See PC for a longer reply.

Sorry about the joking about Fuku I realise it would be so pronounced Bren, no doubt foreigners snigger about the similarity to the Anglo-Saxon as they do similarly over Phuket, infantile I know and out of order given the seriousness of the accidental radiation leak, just a bit of gallows humour.

Back to your poem though. Some work ethic over there eh by the sound of it. Best wishes to you anyway. Frank

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No worries, Frank. We're no strangers to gallows humour over here, as you can imagine!! "Where's John, then?" - "Fuckin died, so he did."

-- "Silly man." -- "It was the wife's boyfriend. " -- "Eejit, he should have been shot of her years ago. Will they be giving yer man a medal ?" --

"He's up for a GC." -- "What's that, then. Glorious Conduct?" -- "Nah. Gaijin Clearance."

 

And then of course they'll hang him, because we still have capital punishment along with our work ethic. Stay on the straight and narrow!

The great thing is that there is always work if you want it. But if you get too greedy the schedules will kill you!

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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