by Peter Loaf
Walking the fences, checking for breaks
The darkness swallows, the chain link shakes
Radio squawking
Guard Sergeant talking
Three O’clock check in, a second takes
Black cloth descending, cinched with a zip
My head in a sack, tight choker grip
Blindly I’m fighting
Kicking and biting
Bite of the sisal, uniform strip
Ten men invading, hostage taken
Fire base breaching, headlines makin’
Taliban raiders
Infidel haters
The rocket attack, the captive shakin’
No air for screaming, hands in a bind
Gasping and gawping, landed fish kind
My ankles are crossed
In panel truck tossed
My garrote loosened, some air I find
Hogtied reversal, hands down my back
Ankle thigh bending, head in a sack
Bumpy road noises
Girl with no choices
Rough hands exploring, taken to shack
Taken to bunker, helpless and bare
Taliban fighters, the hungry stare
Infidel soldier
For ransom hold her
Video posting, their captive mare
Pentagon raging, newsies deploy
The girl on live feed, used as their toy
The Taliban fuckers
Corporal cock sucker
US defeated, Satin destroy
After the swapping, back at the base
My trial speedy, blistering pace
Given new orders
With General Borders
My style of passion, just to his taste
