Blackwing X

Convoy Crosses Thin Red Line Lone Resistance Fighter Mission Destroy

It was Thursday the twelve two thousand-three
in the twilight stretch of day
on the long lonely remote desert highway
smack in the middle of the Sunni triangle
a landscape littered with rusted army junk
depleted uranium fragments sizes dust to chunk
strewn all over was poison and death
circa 1991 first gulf conflict...

NINE P.M.
Hanging close by Bradleys escorts
the seventy ton behemoth Abrams
beasts' hairy plated armor painted desert camouflage
with fifteen hundred fine tuned horses
pulling pushing chugging hard
and zooming fast at foot to the floor speeds past
a Humvee scout and squad of soldiers
rushing on drugs and adrenaline

Goth rock music blasting non-stop quadraphonic
chanting to the song Kill Kill Kill Kill...
crazy energy discharged as they race into the distance
onto their next wilding mission
“catch a bunch of thugs in death nets”
haul them off to Abu Ghraib prison
fuck them up big time to protect us
next town they blitz called Tikrit huh?

TEN P.M.
Cruising toward the mad scene
joking to the Goth's music blasting
feeling dandy low-down mean
with trusted friend M-16 locked and loaded
privates Savage Slaughter sergeant Striker
and motherfucker corporal Butcher
taking aim behind a M-2 fifty caliber
bragging how bad he whacked the last “god damn rag head”
vowing to splatter anything resembling an Alcaeda operative
as his sights are trained on brown skin boys and men
Arabs who wear beards Kifayas or turbans
and girls and women shrouded in niqabs or burqas
(the perfect disguise for the suicide bomber)

And troops realize after so many murdering sprees
sooner or later bad Karma catches-up fast as hell indeed
for the deadliest dangerous widespread coalition nemesis
either near a village to be swept
or far-out along a remote road
hunkered down in a shallow make-shift sand dune bunker
lies one sinister menacing motherfucker called the foe...

ELEVEN P.M.
The solo resistance fighter in another bleak place
his existence utter misery filled with chaos...
a morbid being freezing with doom
will's a solemn moment to feel a serene mood
as eyes pierce and flutter through the blank distant space
sparse exotic weeds start a gentle sway
gliding to a calm blotting out glum
once a nomad boy happy wandering free...
as mind drifts into a delirious turbulent sea
only saved by instinct snapping the wits out of it
shaken in deep gloom seeing each individual of past
family in agony all smashed up dead and gone
from a 500 pound coalition bomb

"Our land plundered and barren
when once upon a time Iraq was Gaia's Garden
her world of Eden spoiled and scorched
her paradise lost no future
as USA lusts to enslave and slaughter
for Saddam’s riches in oil..."

TWELVE A.M.
the stroke of midnight Friday the 13
keen and hungry...
a crescent moon rises casting eerie silver light
snakes slither hares hop lizards skip toads jump
scorpions creep shadows on the run
in the blink of an eye deep nocturnal now the hunt is on...
waiting for the prey with patience to fulfill the cruel deed
Ali craftily constructed an IED
the deadly weapon planted to trap destroy
to turn Bush's taunts “lets get it on”
armor advance abrupt to a halt about face march
there are no other choices for Ali
but drive out the invader army
kill be killed with AK in hand
never surrender nor taken alive friend!

So silent listening up sharp
the inner alarm siren wails loud
grinding gears mechanical noises
obnoxious belching from exhausts
black smoke signals spell “killers on attack”
all across the eerily lit sky
convoy coming down the road first time tonight
war mongering heathens forges onto the thin red line
it is inevitable a deadly encounter
the mighty metal ducks all in a row
pressing forward down the road
closer to the goal the conquest of Mosul

Remember the thin red line when breached crossed over?
guarantees no maybes one two three or more
grunts will be X’ed out never to go back home no more

Spine starts electric tingling
muscles tense hair on neck bristling
tongue drooling heavily panting
skin breaks out in ice cold sweats
fingers itching ready to detonate

In one split second of the Hummer's clear view
no hesitation don't think twice
they crossed over breached the thin red line
Ali's gleaming sword glides unsheathed
the space age mounted charge unleashed
quickly quickly no fumbling for fate fast
enter number nine one one at last
Ali bellows out loud “Allahu Akbar”
pressing the [send] button proud

Rigged five and dime discount phone on receive end
pulses frequency triggering flash wham-blam
roadside bomb explodes three hundred kilos
dynamite shrapnel lifts the mighty heavy metal
American war load off the hallow ground
as 1—2---3---4--grunts and Hummer hit hardcore

And in the hideous instant
of melting steel and sizzling flesh
come shrieks from shock and howls of horror
pain guilt remorse consciousness rapidly lost
screams fade to whimpering
the die-hard cast into oblivion...
gone is the squad of four Marines
as blood boiling over the convoy cauldron
blazing fires and toxic gases
mixes with the soldiers wasted ashes
sailing far beyond over Mother Earth
fallout-down blanketing her head to toe
smothering and gagging ALL her children...

FOUR TWENTY A.M.
Alas Ali relieved and weary
having met the enemy with so much fury
depleted of energy catches his breath
recites mellow poetry
feeling mission accomplished
yet filled with such morbidness...

But within his wits comes a gentle assuring voice
“Ali do not despair Salaam Alaykum
Alaykum Salaam
stealthily make way to safety
in our desolate desert land”

Heart hollow finally the long hard trudge
with a hope to be going homeward bound
now deep in the barren wilderness lost
nearing an abandoned oasis
seeking a spot to lay his body down
forlorn ice-cold shivering
finally finding a place
under a giant withering palm
on a soft sand swept dune

At last at rest in the brilliant glow
of the very last moment of moon
and fading star shine disappears fast
nodding off at sun-rise while curses
the oppressive new morn heat and light
now the chance to be seen get shot
jeopardize the next fight tonight!

...Soundly sleeping in the sweltering day
to pursue a dream peace ecstasy
liberation for Iraq!

Gaining strength before awakening
in the coolness of twilight
destitute sad starving
preparing for another spine tingling night
an evening spilling blood and fighting to the finish....

Love the imagery

BWX: wow. This is a long, gritty detailed poem. I love the images: so crisp you can feel and taste it. Great opening stanza. Keep up the great hard hitting work!

Love the imagery

Thank you for this compliment, it is one of the highest and most valuable I have ever received...and I hold it very dear indeed---Best wishes, BwX