Shoulder Pad Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Shoulder pad

Today he, the man who
I disliked, always do,
Is in the West Point.

When cadets, early years,
Encouraged commanders
To look, learn from them
As well as, of Saint-Cyr.

See the base, commander
Act as I remember.

Then was in my late teens,
Today, in seventies,
Generals are same things,
The brainless machines.

To climb "Apple polish! "

They never think of the
Blood that they will shed
Of parents, children…

They never ask about
The bombings and drones!

Exactly like West Point
The new and old ones
Had finished needed time
To obtain ranks become
Officers or cadets…

Hojjat, Jam, generals
Expected Shah to come.

We were pets for the show
Decorated, designed
To fill the circus of
Vampires, jackals of
Palaces in Iran
That acted like White House.

Did not see honesty
If ever, randomly.

I, among the cadets
Would get a should-board
With single golden bar
As the badge of: "Honour! "

Ceremony was show
Some would kneel and swear,
Loyalty to The King
And Koran and Islam…

"I? Never! "
"Not ever! "
"No, not I! "

Since could not refuse
Had to find excuse
Thought until by sudden
Found wise way: "Go away! "

Took a risk but smart:
"I rappel from height
In front of the shah…"

They needed such monkeys,
Started practice…

Using one of the buildings
My cliff "Fourth Building"
I descended with ropes
On shoulder, Ghasemi
As wounded and injured…

He, too, was a cadet,
But thin and slender!

Coming down, was in air
Heard the shah ask question
From base commander:
"Do their parents know? "

Hojjat lied and confirmed,
Added words of praise:
"Your Majesty, Aria-Mehr
They watch them Proudly
And see them on TV."

No, no, no, bubbled in
My head and my brain.

Wanted to shout, reveal:
"We do not have TV! "

Could even go further:
"My parents are Muslims
And disguise the TV."

But wisdom gave order:
"Kill kettle in silence
And remain stagnant."

That was one occasion
Of many, encountered
In other maneuvers.

Liars are these bastards,
And rare are exceptions.

Having lived in States
Among the officers
Saw swamp is the same
In Iran and USA…

Look at North, Oliver
And Reagan's scandal
To Church of Lafayette
With "Black Life Matters"
With Iraq, Abu Ghreib…

I follow these robots
To war zones like Iraq,
Korea, Vietnam, Tora Bora
And the jail, Guantanamo, Cuba…

Then go deep in China
See Japan shed blood
As was done in Lebanon
And Kurds and chemical
By the hand of Saddam
Supported by Reagan…

Then visit Vietcong
And Grozny, Russia
And Dubai with Riyadh
In Yemen, Libya…

What a list, it is long,
Among them is Boer.

Few are the ones said
I look at me and hate
Uniform, my garment.

I know and know it well
General, West Point's
Is nothing but machine…

He is tank but breathes,
He is gun and speaks
This robot is wound to
Follow boss, a coocoo!

He lacks mind and brain,
Polishes those apples
Inside the Trump's pants!

He, sure, is not of us
He, without mask, gloves
Now and in urgent time
Shakes the hand of Donald!

We are we…
They are they…

We are filled with love, care
They cause hate with murder…