why me ?

~

episode 8

Blue Burqa Destiny

~

So that’s my story & I’m stickin’ to it

Of the girl next door with whom I blew it

She’s still a colonel & I’m an old tramp

writing tall ones beside my reading lamp

~

Afghaneeland, oh Afghaneeland, we had our thrills

They come, muskets blazing, my backbone a thousand chills

But that girl, a woman now, a legend now

Has captured & carried away my soul somehow

~

So bold was she, so wild & free was she

On the saucer outta there a gift I give to thee

Aye, as from Afghaneeland we float thru the sky

Here’s a little gift in remembrance of you & I

~

Sitting nex’ me in your teeny-weeny buckskin

As we dash across the sky ‘neath God’s almighty chin

Oh Sheena, my Sheena, Col. Sheena Johnson ’til death

I’ll love you always way way beyond my final breath

~

I hand to thee a little something bought & gift-wrapped

So divine when you move all my dreams in the face get slapped

You take it, unwrap it, squirm with a questioning regard

At the blue burqa in your hands you squint so hard

~

What can I say but that the garment adds a new dimension

To your awesome display of leadershipful I-dare-not-mention

Oh goddess, I love thee like all planets a-journey

around the sun, so kneel I to adore your pure knee

~

Time passes slowly as we pass over the sea

In this U.S. Army saucer afloat lackadaisically

You sit so stiff in your new burqa next to sleepy me

I doze, I awake, you sit so still in my gift to thee

~

It covers you so completely in such a modest way

I wonder if it also stops you from having anything to say

I ask you several questions, no word or nod is your reply

The burqa falls to the floor, I let out a horrid cry

~

It appears Col. Sheena Johnson is no longer here

I sit all alone in a flying saucer I fear

Her holy war proves to be not the same as mine

Has she mystically returned to Afghaneeland like ~ like sunshine

?

text: copyright clyde collins 2015

Afghaneeland

~

into a higher space of heavenly grace

~

episode 9

The Strange Reality Of Afghaneeland

by

rawclyde

!

The blue burqa lay crumpled on the deck

The garment inside of which Sheena disappeared

It lay there still & foreboding ~ a secret passage

Into a higher place of heavenly grace

~

Where had I bought it?  Who had sold it to me?

I had bought it at a noisy bazaar in a rickety village

downright invisible on a high mountain ridge

in Nuristan Province of strange strange Afghanistan

~

My country is at war in this so-called graveyard of empires

We’re not trying to win anything, we’re just getting out

Leaving behind us a slim potential for peace

For a poor-boy population that knows only violence

~

But these skinny people must know more than that

One of them, an old Sufi

Bejeweled In worthless glass beads & holy cards

Sold me this silly cloth inside of which a woman ~ poof ~ gone!

~

The legendary Col. Sheena Johnson, U.S. Army

Of bold body & firm limb, of unconquerable beauty

Shed her uniform to range near & far in a scant loin cloth

The Taliban couldn’t hit her ~ made to instantly love & miss

~

She was supposed to leave that war-torn land

She had become a detriment to the war effort

Rarely in uniform, never in a burqa!

‘Til I gave her this blue one while riding outta there

~

Afghaneeland

~

text copyright clyde collins 2015

a blue burqa dangling from my trembling hand

~

episode 10

Lament For Long-Gone Col. Johnson

by rawclyde !

~

I try to report what is true

Read ‘tween the lines of stories I find

Look for photos that do not lie

Bumble & stumble around the distant war

~

From an easy chair thousands of miles away

My penetration is shallow indeed

Will peace get forged one way or another in that far away land

Does anyone in America know ~ Afghanistan?

~

~

My infinity machine doesn’t always work right

And flying saucers are so undependable

Every time I think I’ve landed on that nation’s sand

I end up in a ridiculous bubble ~ called Afghaneeland

~

I lost the most beautiful woman on the planet Earth

Col. Sheena Johnson, U.S. Army

In the mirage-brimming bubble of Afghaneeland

A blue burqa dangling from my trembling hand

!

Afghaneeland

by

rawclyde

!

text copyright clyde collins 2015

art

by

meshitup

https://www.daz3d.com/meshitup

~

capt’n chuck fiddler pays the bill

~

episode 11

Capt’n Chuck Fiddler

~

Sunrise, sunset, I go about

My daily intrigues without too much alarm

Eating at the cafe & reading the newspaper

Squinting quizzically at the questionable clientele

~

Mohawks, tattoos, loose women & barbie dolls

So much diversity in the American lifestyle

I’ll have one more cup of coffee please

Before I go to the hazy crazy valley below

~

Other than a lopsided nose & a back with a bolt or two missing

I have no real problems as memories get glazed over

And war wounds hobble along in

A lovely land of free-will & democracy

~

With one marble eye, one fake leg

Capt’n Chuck Fiddler, yours truly, pays the bill

takes another glance at the paper, low n’ behold

There’s Col. Sheena Johnson, so profound, so bold

~

In her customary little slipping & sliding cat-hide rag

Yellow hair waving, baby blues beaming, casual stance

She’s advising native villagers in Afghanistan

in a recent photo right here in the daily paper!

~

~

So she inexplicably shows up again

In that far away land of tremulous doubt

Where the women are rising & men kill for one sick goat

Where you’re blamed for everything as you try to help them out

~

Jesus Christ & Mohammed too, have mercy on us all

I have to go back, say “hello” one last time

To she whom I have worshiped obeyed & missed my whole life long

What’s the name of the hamlet where she has appeared?

~

My one good eye, it squints, it strains, line after line

Tears spill, overjoyed, I can barely see

The name of the place, I search for it exasperatingly

I wipe my eye!  I see!  The village of Pluckame!

~

~

from

afghaneeland

an epic poem

starring col. sheena johnson & capt’n chuck fiddler

by

rawclyde
!

http://saintjoanofarcreincarnatedalmanac.yolasite.com/Afghaneeland-I.php

(text copyright clyde collins 2014)

~

no longer on the radar

~

episode 12

Burqa Time

by rawclyde!

~

Col. Sheena Johnson

No longer on the radar

Her outpost so carefully nurtured & thriving

Is bombed & abandoned

~

A detriment to the war effort

Yes, no longer on the radar

provocatively walks up

In her jungle-girl allure

~

~

Walks up to Habibullah the young Taliban

Her arrow has been stuck in his hand for some time now

He’s pinned to the wall of the busted-up village mosque forever

She breathes on his face

~

Habibullah’s wide-open eyes roll in his head

Suddenly he wants this dangerous half-naked infidel in his bed

His jihad heart ceases to hate the arrow in his hung-up hand

Col. Johnson communicates to him that she wants a burqa

~

text copyright clyde collins 2014

guest artist ~ marilyn anne fraser

~

The Afghaneeland Adventure Series | Old Timer Chronicle II

~