dancing

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episode 21

Taliban Focus

by rawclyde

!

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The woman in the yellow polka-dot burka

Comes back with a pot full of sweet tea

As Taliban bullets whistle & sing all around & always miss

The Taliban are so captivated they can’t hit her

~

~

She is so obviously good lookin’ under that burka

Such beauty glorifies the entire world

Makes it livable for humankind

And drives Taliban outta their mind

~

~

Ten thousand bullets miss the two Afghan soldiers too

Cuz’ they are her Afghaneeland friends

The three of them lounge on the blanket in the shade

And drink their tea

~

~

As the three musketeers partake

A moaning & a groaning grows louder & louder in the sky

Two A-10 Warthog aeroplanes approach

Looking for Taliban & find them

~

~

Behind the pile of boulders

The Warthogs find ten thousand of the culprits

And blast them into bloody pulp

While Col. Sheena Johnson & the Afghan soldiers sip their tea

~

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Afghaneeland Adventure Series

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text copyright clyde collins 2015

the afghaneeland epic continues !

Col. Sheena Johnson, U.S. Army

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episode 23

Capt’n Fiddler Parachutes Into Pluckame

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Ahhhhhhh, catapulting soaring roaring glory!

The boldness, the common sense of the U.S. Secretary of Defense!

Chuck Hagel has sold the entire U.S. Air Force’s A-10 Warthog Fleet

To the Afghan National Army for one dollar!

~

With a lot of training & expensive accoutrements

Now the ANA gots its own aging, rattling, deadly air-support

This Chuck is proud of that Chuck

For doing the right Chuck Chuck thing!

~

I am Capt’n Chuck Fiddler of the U.S. Army

Pulling my ripcord over the Nuristan Province of

Not Afghanistan, but Afghaneeland

A bubble full of wishful thinking inside my mind

~

A tiny dumb-ass bubble that refuses to pop

But that floats like a prayer in the ethereal reaches

Of a poor old soldier’s mind, so yes

I am parachuting out of a Warthog aeroplane above Pluckame!

~

Inside this strange bubble that will not stop

I’ve been training Afghan soldiers to fly

Now like a rain drop I am about to plop

At the feet of Col. Sheena Johnson

~

I shall serve wherever my empress be

Be it Afghanistan & be it free

So I float from above

To back the colonel’s love!

~

Yes, I float & whirl & twirl

Caught in a vortex of air swirling grand

Afghaneeland’s atmosphere gots a mind of its own

It looks like I’ll never land!!!

~

rawclyde

!

Afghaneeland Adventure Series

text copyright clyde collins 2015

One More Cup of Coffee

~~~

sung & written by Bob Dylan

~~~

Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go
To the valley below

Your daddy he’s an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He’ll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go
To the valley below

Your sister sees the future
Like your mama and yourself
You’ve never learned to read or write
There’s no books upon your shelf
And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below

~~~

~~~

Col. Sheena Johnson & The Ants

   by Rawclyde!

Thousands of ants

Tumble across the raggedy ground

At the feet of Col. Sheena Johnson

& her faithful hubby Habibullah

~

The couple sit cross-legged honing arrowheads of Sufi bliss

In front of the commander’s imported Native American teepee

“I’ve never seen a horde of ants like this,” says ex-Talib Habibullah

“I wonder where they are going?”

~

Elder Haji Mujadooti having trudged up the mountain-ridge trail

Stands out of breath amidst the horde of ants, tries to say something

He slaps his pants frantically, falls down, rolls around spastically

Thus disrupting the peaceful scene with idiotic old-man antics

~

Covered head to toe with angry biting ants

He heroically stands up & despite the pain he is suffering

Says to Habibulla’s infidel wife,  “Do something, Sheena!

Our courageous Afghan soldiers are dying below!”

~

~

Ahhh!

The commander knows Afghanistan

She knows Taliban & she knows ants too

She arises

~

The empress of the Afghaneeland village of Pluckame

Pulls Haji Mujadooti out of the jam in which he stands

“Darling husband, please tend to this poor wise man”

Habibullah smiles, arises & does as bidden

~

Barefoot, Sheena steps into the rapidly moving horde of angry ants

Not one lousy insect crawls onto one toe of the formidable goddess

She stands erect as the Rock of Gibraltar & prays to St. Joan of Arizona

Who in a distant land relays the message to heaven

~

And by God, Sheena’s Sufi bow materializes in her held out hand

Sufi armor crackles sparsely here & there on her outrageously perfect body

She picks up a freshly cut & carved & honed world-peace arrow

Fits it to the bow string, aims, shuts her eyes, let’s it go

~

The cosmic forces of the universe gather upon the arrowhead point

Thrust forward into the oblivion of every Taliban brain below

Capt’n Chuck Fiddler’s Afghaneeland Sufi Bubble

& divine revelations explode!!! 

~

Suddenly beyond anybody’s wildest expectation

There are no more Taliban in the tumultuous nation of Afghanistan

The insurgents have transformed into the silliest looking little ants ever seen

All carrying rifles tinier than toothpicks

~

Pvt. Ghani Gandhara gut-shot and breathing his last breath

Picks up one of these purple insects on the end of his thumb & smiles

The Afghan National Army defending the nation’s new democracy shall prevail

Pvt. Gandhara leaps beyond the veil… 

~

Text / Copyright Clyde Collins 2014

~

Col. Sheena Johnson at the helm of

Capt’n Chuck Fiddler’s Afghaneeland Sufi Bubble

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Afghaneeland Adventure Series | Old Timer Chronicle II

~

The Unhappy Fate of Old Rhino Hate

~

One noon day

I was sitting at

my table

eating my meal

~

A bowl full of

moon and

star and little girl

heart vibrations

~

When from out of

no where ~ maybe

from behind a

rock

~

There hobnobbed

up

to

me

~

An old rhino

with

a bad back

a bad liver

~

But with

the most superior

mind

in the world

~

In his hand

was a

glass full of

black ink

~

In the ink

there were a

thousand bugs

all screaming

~

As they drowned

“Hate!

 Hate!

   Hate!”

~

The old rhino

roughly

set this glass down

on my table

~

Next to my bowl

and

he said

“Eat it, kid”

~

My lip

quivered I’m sure

and my eyes

went round

~

As I peered

into this glass

then my bowl

then the glass again

~

I took a

lonnnnnnng

look at this fat

old rhino

~

With a glint in

his eye

cold as the deepest

part of the ocean

~

He picked up

his glass

slammed it down

on my table

~

He said again

“Eat it, kid”

and the thousand

shrill little bugs

~

As they drowned

in the ink of

the glass

continued to scream

~

“Hate!

  Hate!

    Hate!”

good background music

~

I tried to

ignore the old

beast and

his glass of ink

~

I continued to

eat from

my own bowl

of

~

Moon

and star

and little girl

heart vibrations

~

But this

this beast under the

noon sun

would not go away

~

Continued to say

“Eat

   it,

    kid”

~

And you know

what

the bugs

were screaming

~

Into the

cold gray ocean

in the old rhino’s

eye

~

I looked again

tried a grin

gave my bowl a spin

said, “Try mine!”

~

He blushed purple

huffed & huffed

shook his head negatively

and repeated

~

As he pointed to his glass

“Eat

   it,

    kid”

~

I tried to

spit

in his eye but

missed, hit

~

The horn on his head

instead

and said

“No thanks”

~

He wiped the spittle

off his horn with

his tongue

gritted with a squint

~

“It doesn’t taste

very good

but it will keep

you alive”

~

Then he banged

his glass on my table

knocked my bowl

to the ground

~

Did a somersault

jumped up and down

began to

look too tough

~

So

I

said

“That’s enough”

~

Yours truly

grabbed the glass

drank the ink

all the bugs

~

That were screaming

“Hate!

  Hate!

    Hate!”

~

Old Rhino smiled at me

as if we were now

the best of comrades

true and stout

~

I smiled too

pulled out a gun

aimed it at

his head

~

His smile faded fast

and boom

he

was dead.

~

Rawclyde!

~

Colt Python

~