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

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

~

afghaneeland

00829_01, Afghanistan, 1980, AFGHN-13342

~

episode 13

Dervish Whirl

by rawclyde !

~

Ollie spin spin spin

All around the ruin of the village mosque

Bump into walls, out hole in a wall

Up the path, thru the gate, into the house

~

Spinning like a top, spinning ’til he drop

A grinning little lass burning lots of gas

A midget dust-devil whirling room to room

‘Til finally he bump Mom & say:

~

“Burqa burqa burqa!”

“Wha?”

“Burqa burqa burqa!”

She hand him a yellow polka-dot burqa & he spin away

~

afghn-133881

~

Meanwhile back in the ruins big brother Habibullah

Twist his hand around n’ around Col. Sheena Johnson’s arrow

That so long ago zzzzzzzip thru that hand &

Pin him to the wall

~

He twist his hand around & around

The pain shoot up n’ down his arm

In n’ out his heart

Col. Johnson see Taliban eyes full of hate go gooey

~

Here come little dusty Afghanistani whirlwind

spinning spinning & grinning

Ollie puts Momma’s burqa in Habibullah’s other hand

Bulla hands the holy garment to my denudated U.S. Army colonel

~

east1_2016733c

 guest artists:

Steve McCurry

https://stevemccurry.blog

&

Robert Longo

http://www.robertlongo.com

text:

Copyright Clyde Collins 2014

The Afghaneeland Adventure Series | Old Timer Chronicle II

~

episode 14

!

Taliban Polka

by

rawclyde

!

Col. Sheena Johnson, U.S. Army

Forever, no matter what, with valor

Slips the yellow polka-dot burqa over her head

The silk toboggans down her She curves & rides!

~

Oh oh, Taliban Bullah’s eyes are oat meal

His captured hand sloshes red syrup up & down her arrow

Remember, his hand is pinned to the ruin of the village mosque

Col. Sheena stands there & let’s it happen

~

Eyeball to eyeball, their eyeballs explode heaven

Sheena misses walkin’ down the block to the 7-ll

Sheena becoming Pluckame on the high Nuristan ridge

A dew drop plummets from a cloud passing by

~

Outta the yellow burqa comes Sheena’s knife sharper than invisibility

Slices off the feathered end of the protruding stick

Habibullah’s hand slips off, he’s free

Musical notes glide outta his eyes singing “Marry Me”

~

Suddenly Taliban surround the broken building

brandishing gun & rocket & stoic hypocrisy

Their holy war now gots only hate within

Gonna punish Habibullah real good for his handsome sin

~

afghaneeland

~

art: lora croft tomb raider ~ text: copyright clyde collins 2015