a ten-rupee jezail

kipling's verse has become news again
messages fly by the bush telegraph
foreigners are lost on the afghan plain
the prophet leans upon his crooked staff
and laughs and cries and sighs at all the waste
shrouded men shout a name as they attack
the choppers come deliver fire in haste
the ieds go off with a loud crack
who's friend or enemy we cannot tell
we know that this war at least was just
but now the whole thing has just gone to hell
what was swift victory is turned to dust
what started as a high and noble cause
stands naked now brutal in teeth and claws