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Posted on 11/30/2007 7:48:14 PM PST by Soaring Feather
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Imagine Rex Harrison with chewed fingernails and a Scottish accent.
If I could talk to the Taliban, just
imagine it,
Chatting with the chaps
in Pakistan,
I could be rapping with
Al Qaeda,
And all the foreign fighters,
In the Tora Bora, east
Afghanistan.
If I could talk to the Taliban
in Arabic,
Or the dialect of
deepest Kazakhstan,
Try a phrase or two of Farsi,
A word of Gujarati,
I’m sure that I could make
them understand.
We could converse in Ashkun
or Tajiki,
Learn a little of the lingo
of Pashto,
If people ask me: “Can you
speak Turkmenistan?”
I’d say: “Of course I can,
can’t you?”
If I could meet Mullah Omar
in Jalalabad,
Try a little Brown diplomacy
If I could reason with
the Taliban,
Reach out to the Taliban,
Plead and get down on my knees
to the Taliban,
And hope they don’t
behead me!
If I could speak man-to-man to
Sheikh bin Laden,
In the distant mountains of the
Hindu Kush.
Or maybe somewhere nearer,
A live debate on al-Jazeera,
I’d promise that I wouldn’t tell
George Bush.
If I spoke the native tongue of
Pashtun tribesmen,
I could guarantee that I would
end this war.
Give a massive grant
to Helmand,
Well, it always works in Scotland,
I’d even let them have
Sharia Law.
If I consulted with Algerians
and Chechens, In a safe house in east Uzbekistan.
“Where’s Osama?” I could ask,
“Is he up the Khyber Pass?”
They’d say: “No, infidel, he’s
in Londonistan.”
If I could parlay with jihadis
in Pershawi,
And negotiate with
the Yemenis,
If I could talk to the Taliban,
Give asylum to the Taliban,
Mobile phones, council homes,
long-term loans
To the Taliban,
Then they would vote for me!
________________________________________________
Now here a thoughtful piece! A bit fun, a bit ironic, and more then a little worthy of a second read!
;-)
We’ve gotten 10” so far and seems to be slowing down.
At this point I won’t know what it looks like till morning!
Hi Fanfan, this is an amusing piece! Thanks for posting in the Lair.
It’s slowing down here. TV reporter said a few hours ago that we’d gotten 10”.
WOW, you got more than we did. There could be more snow out in rural areas, I would guess in the city we got about 6 inches.
Now that was a pleasant time, we ought to make that a board favorite!
Winter Thoughts
The bite of air on uncovered cheek,
Sunlight bouncing off of the whiteness of snow,
Gray light, endless and bleak
Time and weather circumventing where I would go,
Peaceful moments with my love at my side,
Laughter of friends gathered to share
Longing for sun so much I have cried,
Knitting socks by the fire for my dear one to wear,
Remembrances of beginnings and ends,
Standing as it snowed,watching swans in the sky
Alpenglow on the mountain as white to rose blends
Cold feet, cold heart, my life, a deep sigh.
Winter - pain and sorrow, peace and calm,
The old year’s death, the new year’s balm.
Inspired by the LJ writer’s block of the day: What does Winter mean to you?
After the War
Black clouds, torn by a darker screaming wind’s rage
as chill sheeting rain falls on a black blood soaked Tor
Mud splattered men, weary struggle home once more
A battle fought, as both winner or loser go, all are aged
High Lord’s grand plans and many a low man’s sword
determined the bitter outcome of this last bloody act
And only Time and history’s log will record the fact
when men stood and were served from Fate’s hoard
The Druids walked among us, healing tattered flesh
even as we walked into the hills, soul sore, needing rest
We go to a far land now, where peace we’ll get to test
pounding swords into plowshares, as memories mesh
Was it all worth the bitter cost and pain we endured I demand
but only the ever empty echoes come, in no answer to my pain
And on I weary march, and on I do go, into the unknown again
a sadder and a wiser man, at least this time escaping Fate’s hand
In the distance, a storm breaks, signaling the anger of the Gods I hear
And we hardly care or notice, for we are worn to a fine edge indeed
We are as a sword sharpened too many time, worthless as a weed
Etched by the dangers we have survived, shaped by our own fears
Is there magic enough to bind us, heal us, take us to peace
or are we on the last leg, of a long cruel journey to nowhere
So tired are we, so overdrawn on our courage and seeking care
our souls, hoping for a chance at renewing of our life’s lease
Dawn comes soon, and we’ll learn the price, either way
And set our pace for the setting sun and a distant land
Where we might build a life and not in anger raise our hand
Oh I say on that day, I will kneel and kiss the earth, and pray
I don’t remember if I’ve posted this before:
Anime: A tanka
secret dreams of light
exposed sakura blossoms
doki doki heart
exploding into image:
blood and sword and angst go boom
This one is a warm weather poem, to thaw my cold bones out
The Black Dragon
Rosy light
scattering amid the black shadow
of high level smoke.
Fire Season upon us,
and the black dragon
born of dry lighting
and drier earth
wakes slowly
in the cool of the morning.
The dragon likes to sleep in,
and not until the afternoon,
will he really stand up
on smoky legs,
rising to his full height,
black and angry and consuming,
lifting high
until ice crowns his head.
Snowforts!
Now there is real fun!
As youngsters back home, we had kids who’d break our forts down, and then an uncle showed us how to make ice blocks and how to weld them together with water. Once you had them in place and solid as a masonry wall, we’d coat it with snow. When the big kids hit it looking to knock it over, they left under a barrage of snowballs and catcalls, and half dislocated shoulders. One of those forts was good until Feb. at least.
Breakfast is on me today, I’m already at the coffee shop.
Fried Ham steaks
Hashbrowns
Toast
Milk
Coffee
Juice
and a HUGE Cinnamon Roll with icing, hot out of the oven and drenched in butter.
Wakie, wakie, time to roll out and grab hot food and a new day.
“Anime: A tanka”
I like this, vivid, it snaps!
Good morning,
Ms Feather!
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