“Perplexities of the Afghan Mountains

As Encountered by U.S. Special Forces”

Their young faces look on at me in pale-eyed wonder,

In my brief respite from my trials

I spy and leave

A shiny yellow substance

From a glossy plant

On the natural fat

Of a clumsy narrow-bodied insect

With colorful wings

That make a vibrant noise

Full of life,

While I contemplate it

As a heavy war weapon-

Slap, bang, knock, burst,

Clang, rattle, crash, jar,

Brushing the conflict aside

With my alliance of feuding, bickering militants,

Pugnacious and quarrelsome,

A blend of inflammable petty claims

Kindling ineffectual disorder

Among the illicit poppies

And wailing mountain goats

Running from the stick,

Who reach out in a primeval chorus

Of uncomprehending instincts

Not unlike their masters,

Forcing an intelligent cooperation

With the plight of their clans

Who have grass stuck to their starving lips

While those who endeavor to bring aid

Are decimated before they arrive

By the displaced tyrants;

And from the confines

Of their own conflicts and struggles,

I can only imagine and hope that

The world looks on in wonder…

Another day and night,

And I am blessed to wake, another morning,

A brightness beyond that allotted to me

While the world fights for sublime peace,

Yet I still look on with wonder

At the tumult of inventive discord

That originates from

Devised fabrications;

Though mobile I fit into the cohesion

Of illogical entanglements of the inhabitants,

My insight conforming to the unintelligible confusion

Organized into a harmonious coldness,

Now passionless, now spiritless, now violent,

A shivering accessory

To the smoking dead failures

Of the unresponsive assemblages

Of colossal pretenses

That render the contentious emotions comatose,

A dull expressionless struggle

Composed of an amalgamation

Of consumable beauty and comfort,

Soothing and agreeing in the rubble,

Welcome yet desolate and cheerless,

With a fanciful appearance of courtesy

Amidst the fear,

Celebrated and eulogized

In posthumous praise

By the long-bearded leaders and chieftains,

Whose facade of government

Is sufficient to satisfy the civil onlookers

For their rewards and payments.

As I ponder this antagonistic contest

I am able to sufficiently order

Any false emulations

To the satisfaction of the participants

In this polite conclusion

Of complex compliance,

Worthy of compliment

And receiving a reluctant tolerance

From their supernatural,

Acknowledging but refraining

From compromising the irresistible impulse

To imbibe the moment

By acting upon this object with ridicule…

As the world looks on in wonder.

And I wonder, does anyone look on in wonder?

wbiro

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