Afghaneeland

an epic poem

starring Col. Sheena Johnson & Capt’n Chuck Fiddler

by

Rawclyde

!

~

prologue

The New Cartoon Afghaneeland

~

Afghaneeland psychonaut reporting, sir!

Yes, the vehicle is ready, we’re on our way

Yes, we’re afloat but it’s not a boat or a plane

I believe it’s a bubble of some kind in my mind

~

The crew, a bunch of schoolyard girls, is hand picked

Grown-up now, wearing guns instead of pantaloons

I love them until they talk & then I groan

Click the switch!  Left rudder!  Take off that flag!

~

Smooth sailing now, a crisp delight, horizon filled

There it is, we’re there now, sinking into the quick-sand

Of a cross-eyed,  tongue-tied, bitter bitter land

Ahh, partners now, grinding hard, Afghanistan!

~

Watch out, boom, I’ve lost a leg, my eye is gone

We haven’t been here five minutes yet & I’m a vet

Ahhh, my crew, they stay cheerful, they massage my nose

The luckiest man on the planet asleep in 2 dozen foxholes

~

My tongue is loose, my cock a goose, the night doesn’t end

One eye won’t shut, the medic salts the other one

Cuts it up & feeds it to the villagers at the gate

Who complain about everything but it is only fate

~

episode 1

The Legend Of Col. Sheena Johnson

~

One girl-soldier on my crew fought off

5 wanna-be rapists in her platoon

Killed them & did not get caught

Her blood-lust knew no bounds when it came to the Taliban

~

500 mysteriously disappeared while she ranged around

Out of uniform for one month in northeast Afghanistan

After which she was promoted to Colonel

This included 3 Waziristan villages that she leveled

(Nobody knows how and, anyway, it’s just a rumor)

~

She was assigned to nurture an ill-conceived outpost

Deep in the mountains, so deep it scratched the back

Of Pakistan & consequently was doomed until

She got there & winked at her suddenly happy soldiers

~

They got so charged-up just looking at her

They paved a crumbling rock road with asphalt

For 100 miles before lunch time & without a break

Nobody but one village urchin knows where they got the asphalt

~

Then one freezing morning she & her sparse gear were gone

The outpost fell into an endless & bottomless depression

Until they found a dead Taliban with an arrow in his back

Suddenly they knew ~ the Colonel wasn’t gone at all

~

Now the soldiers at this craven location pull guard duty

With smiles on their faces & joy in their hearts

‘Cuz every so often when least expected they catch a glimpse

Col. Sheena Johnson, half naked, stalking Taliban in the snarky shadows

~

episode 2

Col. Johnson Wakes Up In Pluckame

~

She carried on constant dialogue with

Saint Joan of Arizona, her best friend

Whom she had never met face to face but

Saint Joan was Sheena’s favorite spirituality

~

Colonel Sheena Johnson of the US Army

Begged Holy Jesus for salvation, Holy Mary for holy prayers

When she caught a wink of rest she woke up

Surrounded by God, His angels, and Afghan villagers

~

Her hair-splitting arrows, her death-begotten spear

Her footprints filled Taliban hearts with fear

For some holy reason she never missed nor was hit

Al Queda, so full of it, finally ducked out & split

~

Colonel Sheena Johnson of the US Army

Of the entire planet & the universe too

Held Islam like a coin in the palm of her hand

And the little brains in her toes understood Afghanistan

~

One morning she awoke in the ruins of

A small mosque in the beat-up village of Pluckame

Perched invisible on a distant mountain ridge

3 midgets watched her eyes open like she was a cartoon on TV

~

Sitting cross-legged in a row with 3 grinning faces

These poverty-stricken midgets were doomed to grow up Taliban

That is, before they found Col. Sheena Johnson

Who immediately became their favorite cartoon character

~

episode 3

The Colonel’s Arrow Hits Its Mark

~

Col. Sheena Johnson stretched her limbs

Tossed a blanket, sat up, stared back at the midget trio

She leaped to her feet into a combat pose

Slapped the half-pints around playfully

~

They were aghast, eyes big marbles, mouths gaping caves

The colonel’s semi-naked attributes stunned

These little Muslim boys in the highest elevations of Afghanistan

She bounced them around like basketballs & they all cleaned-up the place

~

After a while they were making mud bricks

Repairing walls & painting murals on them

Of historic battles in various nearby locales

With splattered suicide bombers hobnobbing with virgins in the clouds

~

The virgins had naked navels, long blond hair & blue eyes

Just like Col. Sheena Johnson

One of the midgets, who everyone called Ollie, was painting a halo

On one of the virgins when his older Taliban brother walked-in

~

This feller turned into a hurricane of destruction

Undid all the work the short fellers & their new friend had done

The colonel had disappeared, was no where to be found

But one of her arrows returned, calmed the hurricane down

~

episode 4

Afterglow

~

Back at headquarters, in uniform & behind her desk

The legendary Col. Sheena Johnson nurtures Camp Jitterbug

The only US Army outpost left in Nuristan Province

An outpost that hums along for no reason & that rarely rhymes

~

When I knock she says “Come in” so I do

“How’s the radio station?” asks young Col. Johnson

“Quite well,” I reply, “And so is Camp Jitterbug”

The colonel beams with pride & incomparable beauty

~

Speaking of which, I continue to yammer

“We’ve figured out why you never get hit by a bullet

When the Taliban see you they fall in love so they miss”

She laughs “All men are my slaves I can’t help it”

~

Godly swirls of purple in the pale blue sky

Provide a rapid prelude to another eerie night

Red joins-up for the final dash

Venus does not appear at the rim of the hilly silhouette

~

episode 5

Sheena Time!

~

Whad-a-ya do with a girl like Sheena Johnson?

Kills her dad, loves her mom, makes a bomb

Throws it thru the door of the boy’s locker room

Number one in class, will kick your ass

~

Whad-a-ya do with a girl like that?

I’m living next door, doing a chore

Suddenly there she is in the driveway

Wearing a shredded washrag, calling me a fuckin’ fag

~

My God, what am I supposed to do?

Here’s the girl next door making me her bottom floor

I’m working hard to be to be to be a man

She laughs & dares me to jump outta the frying pan

~

The towers collapse in two-thousand-&-one

There’s Sheena standing there ~ the daughter of a machine gun

Stands there in my driveway as if the Princess of Mars

Enlists in the army & I follow, my eyes full of stars!

~

episode 6

She Who Is Obeyed

~

After about 6 weeks of boot camp

us new recruits of 1st Platoon got our 1st break

in the barracks dayroom for 3 hours

Sheena showed up with a joint for her & I to share

~

Outside we ducked thru a wooden door below the building

The floor was dirt, the ceiling low, the walls unpainted

In the darkness the match flared

Sheena’s face flashed forth that of Saint Joan of Arc!

~

Stunned, I took a toke, Saint Joan, she cracked a joke

Thoroughly stoned we levitated into the dayroom

sat quietly on a plastic couch

1st Platoon spastically whirled around us

~

Over-wired by 6 weeks of boot camp

All the worthless bums were soldiers now

Hair cropped, grins big, suddenly too healthy to relax

While Sheena & I sat silently stoned, watching

~

Pool balls cracked & ricocheted

Dumb jokes splattered, laughter clattered

Sheena lifted her fatigues, made me kiss her tummy

In full view of all those raw recruits

~

Her warm belly-button sucked me into Afghaneeland

Mission Impossible become a dreamy Betty Boop slope

In a slobbery Tora Bora cave I become a slippery slave

Swallowing the orders & commands of Col. Sheena Johnson!

~

episode 7

Col. Johnson & The Holy War

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A holy war booms inside my mind

A jihad call to a platoon of infidel thoughts

Arrives like a missile in the night

Really being holy, delivers a benevolent light

~

A secret agent steps out of the smoke

He’s wearing a suit and tie and a lopsided grin

“It’s time to go,” he says to the colonel & me

“Your score is zero, you’re too damn free”

~

Col. Sheena Johnson smiles & says, “I know”

(She’s been too out-of-line for this road show)

The agent points to the ship, we step thru the door

As a bird flies around cawing “Nevermore!”

~

Some tales float skyward, others whither nearby

This one is detrimental to the war effort

So Sheena & me, we bow low & grand

And our ship floats away from Afghaneeland

~

episode 8

Blue Burqa Destiny

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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

?

~

episode 9

The Strange Reality Of Afghaneeland

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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 realm 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

~

episode 10

Lament For Long-Gone Col. Johnson

~

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

!

 ~

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!

~

episode 12

Burqa Time

~

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

~

episode 13

Dervish Whirl

~

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

~

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

~

episode 14

Taliban Polka

~

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

~

episode 15

Mosque

~

God organizes His forces

Bolts of lightning spruce-up the sky

There is much attention to detail

On a minuscule planet among planets

~

Love doves & bleary-eyed mules

Gather ’round the holy-war warriors who are

Full of bullet-flattering burro shit

Killing God’s children & reaping heavenly reward

~

Ah yes, we doves & mules gather around

We gots bullets & rockets & A-bombs too

If you wanna be a nuisance

Keep on killing like insects do

~

What you need is a brain

Fueled-up for the wise adventure

And a heart that

Beats the real rhyme

~

So “suddenly” turns into months

While the village sets-up voting polls

Votes for a president & rebuilds the mosque

Sheena & Habibullah are wed

 ~

episode 16

Vagina Envy

~

Yes Sir, the villagers rebuild the mosque

With brick & mortar payed-for by the U.S. Army

Under the supervision of Col. Sheena Johnson

With Taliban breath on the backs of their necks

~

Her Taliban-fodder fiancee mixes the mortar

He & his fellow villagers lay the brick

Too soon, Sheena’s husband Habibullah is wanted dead or alive

In Haqqanni Network lairs high n’ low over Pakistan way

~

There’s a price on his head for lovin’ the beautiful colonel

Taliban bullets sing all around him, his old Taliban friends

Try with flaming sticks to burn out the eyes of his little brother

But in the nick of time Sheena kills them all

~

One of her tricks is to place 3 arrows

Against the taunt string of her bow held horizontally

Only Ollie’s bountiful sister-in-law can do it just right

She pulls the string way back under her chin

~

Before the arrows hit their mark she does it again

like she is the daughter of a machine gun

& that’s exactly what she is

So years ago she had to kill her father too

~

She has no choice, faced with such fearsome vagina envy

Her sleek arms get oh so sore but she doesn’t give up

She throws off her worn & faded yellow polk-a-dot burka

100 extra arrows in the quiver a hanging on her back

~

The village is surrounded by 100 & one Taliban

Nobody knows how she does it

At point-blank range the Talibanees jerk & they miss

At any range they fall in love and they miss!

~

episode 17

Voting-Card Envy

~

While battling the formidable Taliban

The brave citizens of Pluckame set-up

a voting poll

in a shed owned by one of the elders

~

Everyone in the village has a voting card

Even Ollie & his midget friends have voting cards

Goats & chickens have voting cards hung around their necks

Only Taliban lurking behind distant trees don’t have them

~

From very far away the Taliban share a pair of binoculars

They see even a blind goat is going to vote

In the nationwide election for the next president

Everybody is going to make a difference but not the Taliban

~

Their Al Qaeda leader peers thru the binoculars & grimaces

He says something rude about what he sees

A swift arrow made in the USA cracks thru one of the lens

And sticks out the back of his head

~

As the Arab falls-over a voting card is suddenly revealed

To his “holy war” buddies

It is nailed on the tree beside which their leader has been sitting

They look around ~ all the trees have voting cards

~

episode 18

Capt’n Fiddler’s Afghanistan Vision

~

My visionary blueprint for Afghanistan

An architectural triumph of much down & dirty brooding

With Sufi flare & Hindu scare is ready now

To provide for ye people a future glowing growing & secure

~

Unfortunately the Taliban are still unruly & hostile

With an Al Qaeda sense of Wahabi blood-lust & overkill

Not just toward me but everybody like me

Not just here but across this nation’s borders as well

~

But with the imprint of Col. Sheena Johnson’s footprint

Upon the land high low & lightly wherever she go

I am able to present to you this enchanting vision

Of Afghanistan democracy meant to be & totally free

~

What the Taliban sons of this awesome nation gots to do

Is lighten up, stop being so tense & mellow out

All this blatant killing has got to go

So Habibullah & Sheena can slow dance in the moon glow

~

I want you all to sing scooby dooby dooo

Won’t you all bring some scooby dooby dooooo

Jus’ fling some scooby dooby dooooooo

Col. Sheena Johnson of the U.S. Army loves youuuuuuu!

~

episode 19

Reinforcements Arrive At Pluckame

~

Two Afghan National Army representatives

Materialize out of thin air

Dressed to the max in second-hand uniforms

They are sitting on an old blanket nearby the voting shed

~

They’re soldiers now & have weapons & pay checks

They’ve been herding stray goats on their trek to the village

They impress nobody as being fierce

Laughter thunders from 1,000 Taliban hiding behind a pile of boulders

~

The 2 ANA soldiers sweating profusely in their hot uniforms

Cool down on the blanket layed-out in the shade

A hospitable woman in a burqa brings them a pot of tea & 2 cups

“Thank you for bringing our goats back to Pluckame,” says she

~

Taliban bullets whistle & ricochet everywhere

A rocket blows the roof off the village’s rebuilt mosque

One bullet pings on the helmet of one of the ANA soldiers

He smiles benignly & sips his tea

~

episode 20

Interlude

~

Taliban make merry with ample ammo & bullets dance

The Afghan National Army soldier pulls a cell phone out of

One of several pouches on his chest & dials collect

The other ANA soldier grinds his teeth

~

A stray bullet ricochets around in the empty cup in his hand

Luckily the cup is made of tin, not porcelain

Then the bullet stands up on the cup’s rim & starts singing

Which adds real & deep meaning to the drama

~

Everyone is leaning closer and closer toward the cell phone

The soldier with the little thing up against the side of his head

Makes amiable conversation, smiles a lot

Puts the phone away & says to the other soldier

~

“The captain says to wait a moment”

The other soldier rolls his eyeballs skyward & twiddles his thumbs

The woman in the yellow polka-dot burqa gets up off the old blanket

And floats back to her modest dwelling to replenish the tea pot

~

“What color were her eyes?”

“I believe they were blue.”

“Do you suppose she is the legendary woman?”

“Well, this is Pluckame, isn’t it?”

~

Yes, anything goes in Pluckame

You never know what’s going to happen nex’

Whether it’s a vote gone awry or a bullet in your eye

The invisible village up there on the mountain ridge

~

entire text

Copyright Clyde Collins 2015

~

photo

Jennifer Lopez as Jungle Girl

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Afghaneeland II

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