Matt Freire | Undisclosed Afghan

Running for Stability

2010-08-15T12:59:00.004-04:00

by Matthew Freire, Syracuse University, August 2010

With a sober face and straight voice Staff Sergeant Smith said, “I got some bad news. Marcy got hit.”

I wanted to laugh and joke like usual until I saw the Sergeant’s eyes. Staring into them I could triangulate the tone of his voice. Truth overcame my body. Hunger grew in my throat like a foreign object. I couldn't swallow.

“What happened?”

“We don't really know the full story yet but we do know he was hit by some type of rocket, and he’s in critical condition right now in the Bahgram hospital. He will lose one leg, possibly both. Once he’s stable enough they will send him to Walter Reed,” Sergeant Smith said.

With hope I said, “so he’s alive.”

“Yes,” Smitty said, “he’s still alive. When I get more information I'll let you know.”

Silence suffocated the room. I stood looking at nothing, biting my lower lip, nodding my head.

Smitty broke the silence. “Are you all right?”

I was now staring at my tactical gear on the floor. Still nodding my head as if I could not breathe, I looked at Smitty and said, “at least he's not dead.” I needed air. I turned and walked out the door.

It was dark outside. Only red lights were authorized at night at the FOB (Forward Operation Base). White lights provide directions to incoming rockets. It was pouring rain. In moments I was completely soaked, realizing this was the first time Afghanistan skies rained on me. My team of eleven had only been “in country” for three weeks and I had only been on four missions. Now five words were on playback in my head, “At least he’s not dead.”

My mind was racing, so I ran to see if I could catch it. I began to reminisce about old times of fun and adventure Marcy and I shared. I wished I could be with him, and hear his loud Long Island accent. Will I see him again? What state will he be in? Marcy loved his job more than anything. Being a combat camera soldier was all he wanted to do. Will he be able to keep his job? My thoughts became self-centered. If Marcy died I would have to document his memorial ceremony. But my desire to do Marcy justice in documenting his fallen comrade ceremony would compete with my desire as a friend to be a pall bearer. There were more selfish thoughts. I had just arrived down range in Afghanistan. I wanted to stay. I wanted to do my job. There was so much I wanted to experience.

Ashamed of my egocentric thoughts I started thinking about the process of thinking, of running for stability. The rain acted like the tears I could not shed. Tears were inadequate to honor my friend.

Soaking wet I realized how crazy we combat camera soldiers are. We run into combat with weapons that cannot immediately kill the enemy. We run with our cameras up and our rifles slung at our sides. I was jealous of Marcy because he had already experienced combat. I had to slap my self-centered face and pivot back to those five words, “At least he’s not dead.”

What is Combat Camera?

2010-04-02T22:47:00.006-04:00

Wayne Gray and I came up with this idea in Afghanistan. We both shot it and Wayne edited it. The target audience is 55th combat camera soldiers but I think more people can appreciate it for what it is. At the end it shows where our footage is used.

Background on the Why We Fight Documentary

2010-03-23T21:04:00.006-04:00

From Digital Camera Foundry:

"I was impressed with the “Why We Fight” documentary on Tyler Ginter’s blog and so I got in contact with him about a write-up. As it turns out a friend of his Matt Freire was the one who had shot and put it together. So I contacted Matt to get not only his production write-up but what life is like in the Army as a combat cameraman. His piece documents the feeling and sentiment of the Afghan people who are tired of war and offer a perspective that most people don’t see.

"Here is his write-up:"

I joined the Army in 2004 as a 25V combat documentation production specialist or more commonly know as combat camera “COMCAM." I joined the military because I was becoming lethargic and I had no real direction. I did a little freelance graphic design and weekly competed in slam poetry contests but something was missing. I heard you could be a graphic designer for the military and they would pay for school. On top of all that I was fascinated with the wars going on and I really wanted to go over and experience it for myself, do my part for my country. When I joined the recruiters said all the slots for graphic designers were full but they had a slot in combat camera. As soon as I heard the name I was hooked. I said I wanted that job.

Life of a COMCAM in a war zone to me is bliss. (The Passionate Fool Focuses) I would go back in a second. I didn’t want to leave. I loved being in Afghanistan and doing my job. There is no other job in the military where you get to be around and experience everyone else’s job, not just in our military but all the coalition forces. I believe I’ve documented military from around 30 different countries.

I never really thought of my job as dangerous even after my good friend on my COMCAM team lost his leg in the first month of being in the country. (Soldiering Comes with a Cost) There are hazards and dangers doing this job because we look for the high action missions and we get on as many as possible. It’s hard to juggle having a M4 assault rifle and a Canon 5D MKII slung around my neck and trying to decide which one I should use.

One of the things I love about my job is I am the only one that does it when I go on missions. I am the one that’s documenting how it really is for history, for battle field commanders, for the soldiers, for the world. My job is different form the other camera jobs in the military because I just document. I don’t go out looking for a message, I don’t go out to try to make a story, I just document how it is. (As You Pay Last Respects to Your Soldier)

The video "Why We Fight" just put itself together. I was with these Afghan fighters for a few months documenting what they do and one day they were doing some weapons training. I pulled a few aside with both our interpreters and started asking random questions like hows the training going on, why do you come out here every day and fight, how do you feel about America, and then I went on my way. A few months later I was looking over my footage and I found the interviews and that’s when it hit me how powerful their words are. These people are just like us. They are tired of war and they fight so their families can live in peace. I never looked at Afghans in this way until this deployment.

My team was the first team in the military to deploy to a combat zone with HDSLR’s. I loved having the ability to do both photo and video in one small compact machine.

Before the HDSLR I was using a Nikon D2x and a Sony PD-170. If I had a mission I would have to pick one or the other because there is just not enough room to carry both. When I go on missions with different units I have the same gear they have plus my camera gear so i need to be as light and compact as possible. HDSLR’s accomplish so much: they're light, compact, tough, have the ability to change lens quickly.

My camera got beat up, it looked horrible by the end, the whole camera was covered in tape including the back screen because most of my missions were done at night and I couldn’t let light leak while doing video.

The scene in "Why We Fight" that shows a 9 banger flash grenade going off was during training, so I just set my camera on the ground and took a few steps back from it. The camera was fine, it's a beast that can take a beating. I did go through many lens filters through my deployment though. I had two primary lenses. I used the 24-105mm f/4 and the 50mm f/1.4. Kept it simple and light weight. I also did use a lens baby on a few missions which I don’t recommend to anyone in a combat zone. It takes too much changing out f stops and manually focusing. I think I was the first for that and hopefully last.

How I carried the camera, I would wolf hook it to a carabiner on my body armor and it would just hang on my left side while my M4 was laid across my chest. For audio I just used an onboard mic and a lavaliere for the interviews that I hooked up but in post realized I set them up incorrectly, so really only the onboard mic is all I used.

Advice for those that might want to do this job:

First, hit the gym. You go out on missions where you have body armor, helmet, ammo, ruck sack with food, supplies, everything infantry joe has, plus whatever camera gear you have, and when they stop to take a break you have to have the energy to run around and still document. (I Don't Want to Limp Away from this One) The job never ends. When you get back from your mission and everyone cleans their weapons and goes to bed, you have to capture and edit all your work and transmit via ftp.

Second, get your mind right. Getting your mind right means understanding you might have to document some bloody gory stuff and then later go back and look at it again when you put a product together. (Troops in Contact: A Sound You Never Want to Hear) (I'm Not in the Mood to Argue)

Third, if you feel like you want to do this job in my military, be worth a damn and give a damn. (Afghan Interrogation Comes with a Chill) (Send it With Technicolor Sauce)

I love this job so much and I am so passionate about this job. If you are in my field don’t just steal oxygen and justify your existence!

Matt Freire

Why We Fight

2010-03-12T23:54:00.005-05:00

Why We Fight filmed by Matt Freire, edited by Matt Freire and Tyler Ginter.

"Why We Fight" contains never-before released footage of the Afghanistan Special Forces, Strike Force Lion, who describe their own personal reasons why they continue to fight the war against terrorist threats within their country.

All footage was filmed entirely on the Canon 5DMKII by Matthew Freire during his nine-month combat tour under some of the most dangerous locations and roughest conditions in Afghanistan while supporting the elite United States Special Forces.

Strike Force Lion is a hand-selected elite group of Afghan Fighters trained by the United States Special Forces with the purpose of eliminating terrorist threats in the Khowst Province of Afghanistan.

These are strong, brave, and fierce fighters that do everything they can for peace.

Filmed by: Matthew Freire

Edited and Color Corrected by: Matthew Freire, Tyler Ginter

Tools:
Canon 5DMKII
Canon 24-105mm F4
Canon 50mm F1.4
Final Cut Pro
Magic Bullet Looks
Magic Bullet Mojo

All footage has been cleared for Public Release.

she would set a flashlight out for him every night

2009-10-31T18:20:00.001-04:00

condensation on my left eye
by matt freire

she would set a pillow out for him every night
because it’s cold out at night
and a breeze would set in
and the sun would come out
but it did not warm
there is always this chill
there is always this unknown
but don't ask me about it
because I suddenly don't remember

she would set a blanket out for him every night
because its cold out at night
and he would climb the walls
but the walls came down
and he would take the rubble
and he would build a castle
and he got distracted
and he destroyed that castle
but don't ask me the castle’s name
because my mouth will suddenly stop working

she would set a flashlight out for him every night
because it’s dark out at night
and he traversed hidden obstacles
getting farther than otherwise
yet eventually batteries drain of their strength
and the light flickers out
and because he depended on the light so long
he becomes lost
but don't ask how long it took for his eyes to get adjusted
because I momentarily looked the other way

she would set a bowl of water out for him ever night
because its cold out at night
and the water turns to ice
and he tries to warm the ice
because he's dehydrated
but his breath isn't strong enough
and his hands aren't warm enough
and the water stays frozen
and he coughs
but don't ask me if he survived
because I will suddenly lose interest

because you convinced me to become

2009-10-31T18:19:00.002-04:00

slow leak
by matt freire

Thoughts like moths
caught in low lit lampshades
fluttering till they burn

trying to express me
not to impress you
but I listened to you just the same

what a fool I was
what a blockhead I became
because you convinced me to become

something tethered
like a frozen bee
suddenly tied to way too short a string

seeping gas
open mouths depleting oxygen
closed minds convincing otherwise

that I'm needy like an infant

2009-10-31T18:15:00.002-04:00

something in my back pocket
by matt freire

the problem with me is I think to much
typing away like it helps me swallow my lunch
and I clutter the page
with undecipherable babble
thinking this helps
but its just mindless ramble

I like to say I'm resilient
but my life has shown
that I'm needy like an infant
still sucking on the tit
with a mild contentment
too afraid to get away
but too far out to stay

so desperately
I pull some vocabulary out
but I lost my voice
and I can’t scream it out
and you’re so far away
and even if you heard it
you'd ignore it anyway
so I keep it to myself
in a mumble undecipherable
and I tap the return key
because there is more to the thought

the problem with my logic
is there are too many loopholes
too many what ifs
and too many pitfalls
and many pockets I sport
and many outfits I wear
but only two pockets count
but my hands are warming there

and when I think about me
I think about of pictures of me
because I forget about me
if these images didn't succeed
and a photo album is drawn
from the bookshelf in the corner
and on the first page
is when I first met me
but I didn't really like me
but as I got to know me
in different photos
that show me
the different quirks
that know me
and just between you and me
I still didn't really like me
and I guess that’s another problem with me
I don't really think at all
I just type away
watching my spit fall
seven seconds go by
till I hear the splat
so that’s roughly seven stories high
but thats just a rough estimate

I confuse myself
I save random objects
and keep them in my pockets
and I have no use for them
but I think what if

and I tap the return key
because I'm a stubborn
uneducated
inconclusive
determined
self analyst
that carries his wallet in his back pocket
so when I sit
I lean to the left

fading is a common theology

2009-10-20T22:21:00.003-04:00

Siren song
by matt freire

there's this ringing
constant ringing
medic told me to enjoy it
because when it stops
i'll never hear that tone again
the sound of the fading
the hum of the damned cells
the tone that soon for me
will be
non existent
existence is resistance
and sustainable movement
and the death lullaby in my ears
drifts me from contentiousness
to rsvp at a large banquet
a never ending table is laid out
in a massive and spacious building
where everything is feng shui
yet surrounded by people that annoy
where saffron tickles the nose
and congregations click with upturned stares
through the windows can be seen nothing but static space
darken urban deserts
that no one cares to ponder
because the feast is always about to start
stale food is the appetizer
and bad re-runs play on a jumbo-tron zeppelin circling the room
too drunk to stand
too sober to stay
or is it the other way
speechless I am
to the words of their tongue
a gloated pride murks
and contempt is at its utmost
startled I wake
A blank sheet of electronic paper illuminates the room
a small coalition of bugs hover around the light
0400 hours
but for sanity's sake
4 a.m.
There's this buzzing in my ear
airborne insects are attracted
to the death hum
to the siren's song
my hand shews the fliers away
and I cover my face
peeking between the light
breaking though my fingers
placed to the now
the place shall remain undisclosed
almost fading into decibels not audible
by any senses

fading is a common theology
in an every-day minute
and every other second
a tone will come and go
to the songs whispered
by names not known or unknown

like hardships now won't matter

2009-10-20T22:14:00.006-04:00

Photo: Spc. Frank Hardcastle from the 4th Brigade Combat Team 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force, listens to music between mission on forward operating base Sharana, Afghanistan, 19 Jul. 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

It all gets better
by matt freire

pain
uncomfortable
annoyance
hard to breathe
back is killing me
moving too quickly
makes me feel dizzy
hard to sleep because
pains out to get me
but it all gets better
that's what I tell myself
nothing lasts forever
mountains erode
lakes dry up
suns burn out
even everlasting gobstoppers loose their taste
but change
that will last forever
and because of that
time is the best medication
just look at people's hardships
a few hundred years ago
there was a family that was average
their lives were so so
then strife found their lives
and struggles materialized
and the food did run dry
and infections killed lives
and then a little bit of time
a few hundred years or so
and poof
no more hardship for them
but it doesn't matter now
does it
like hardships now won't matter
in a hundred years or so
because it all gets better
at least I tell myself so

there is an end and someday we'll get there

2009-10-20T22:08:00.001-04:00

Shake it off
by matt freire

Monotonous
like scattered rounds
glistening the horizon
rolls seconds together
like cigarettes roll
breaths together
and days come together
and sets the same set
the same steady upgrade of death
the same building violent force
I'm now set in
this set
that's been set
that's gaining in sects
and gaining in deaths
erected a nostalgia
and I fell into a nap
to realize I'm wide awake
some things you can't shake off
like the last bit of piss
that drips down your leg after you pull up your pants
but there is an end
and someday we'll get there
but sometimes it's hard to admit
you pissed on your leg

my finger Brailles the wall for the light switch

2009-10-20T21:59:00.003-04:00

knife fight
by matt freire

the cold has started
more layers I model
my air conditioner
that didn't work when the heat was ever present
now won't turn off
so it's even colder then afghan should be
but it's remarkably easy to sleep
0100 spindle of cd get knocked off my dresser
I jump up and grab my hidden seven-inch blade
thinking jihadist were invading
my worried cries echo
as a swishing sound
searches in the dark
stabbing in the dark
this is one they will not take alive
this one will not go with out a fight
my finger Brailles the wall for the light switch
knocking stuff over
knife still ready
to flick on the light
and I spy mice scattering
and I spy liquid stagnating
all over my floor
in the commotion
I must have
an open water bottle full of urine
it's afghanistan
yes I have piss bottles
all over my room
I like the wide mouth gatorade bottles the best
easier to relieve the bladder in the room
than to get dressed
and walk a few hundred feet
call me lazy
but call me efficient
would have been smart to put the cap back on the bottle though
so call me furious
I's still disorientated
and I spot a two eyed
4 inch
squeaking
sleep-disturbing menace
sitting on a folded pile of my clothes
just staring
taunting
acting all innocent
but I knowing the difference
I charged
only to dull my blade
stabbing holes in my clothes
and bless my humble resting quarters with a fine aroma
the scent of stale piss
only to loose my foe
and my pride
so now I am wide awake
wiping up my own piss
with clothes I just altered
I head down to the chow hall
because I can always eat
alone I sit
flip through the tv channels for an hour
eat seven bowls of cereal
with juice box haji skim milk
and two black bananas
and I realize
I have to get up for a mission in a few hours
so I head back to my hooch
to the familiar stench of my piss
and yes
no mice in sight
I have three hours till I have to get up
plenty of time
I reach out to finger the light switch when I notice movement
on my inanimate bed
some freaking cat snuggling up with my pillow

afghan interrogation comes with a realistic chill

2009-10-20T21:54:00.001-04:00

the selector lever
by matt freire

engulfing darkness
swallows the sun's light
we make chase
the target has fled the scene
more darkness deliberates
the type that chokes uncertainty
the tone of shots ringing out
there is no sanctuary
be weary
there's nothing like unknown shots in the dark
as i peer through a pinhole world of black and green
weapons mark sectors
as yes bring it
slips out my clenched teeth
weapons swap places
instinctively select a field of fire to fix on
more shots ring out
to the tone of the night getting darker
so swapping decisions I juggle
as I rhythmically tap my safety
target is captured crackles over i-coms
an elation wafts as we re group
this is an afghan mission
we are just providing security
they are doing what we want them to do
take control of their country
this is a bad guy
and afghan said
this is good thing
another said
he has killed many for sure
rough judgments are roughly pressed
barrel locks down the back of the head
pressed cold on the blind fold
afghan interrogation comes with a realistic chill
too bad my camera stopped working
greatest shot I ever witnessed
as my merchant of death and I provided security
a mental imprint I shall never release
in idle chatter
this was a bad guy
and afghan said
this is good thing
another said
he won't kill any no more
we mounted back up
to hit another location
that their prisoner said he owned
miraculously
my moment catcher started working again

six more years he contracted

2009-10-09T14:30:00.003-04:00

pocket knife and a broken light

don’t mind it he don’t
he say he don’t mind it
and i know him he don’t
he don’t mind it he don’t
power out
withered discolored fruit and dried trout
hot sauce hits the spot
the spot that churns the bowels
never-ending sniffles
eventually turn to crystals
that bleed when excavated
he debated if he’s crazy
that’s just crazy he ain't crazy
and he don’t mind it he don’t
don’t mind you and your support
or French freedom fries
and frilly foaming
sundays is the same as everdays
fridays sound cool
but he don’t know the last time he landed on one
days are never ending and always ending
he say
at least it seems like to me
it all gets better
just wait you'll see
but he can’t think of a better way to be
he don’t know how to fill his fill
chapped around his mouth
dark blood dries in the cracks
and black spots dot his sight
eyes keep searching
lights flicker as he knifes out hang nails
13 of the little bastards he knifes out
wondering how he can have more hang nails
than nails on his scarred hands
from random moments
he don’t mind but he never notices
how many cuts he has on his hands
they is all over
but he don’t mind it he don’t
over it’s all over sometime
and he wants to eat all the pie while it’s still warm
while it's still there
six more years he contracted
six more years he be active
left ears not as active
not too responsive
slightly passive
unlike his reactions
forcible and compacted
skin tight on the nose
and rough hands and elbows
but he say he don’t mind it
and i know him he don’t
creases defining
around his eye sockets and mouth
shoulder pops in and out
he talks to himself by word of mouth
dogs howl all through the night
some 5.56 stills the night
and he questions how a hair can sprout in that location
chaffed thighs is his combatant
man he thinks he’s had it
but he know he don’t
he gets past it
Vaseline a secret tactic
underwear need not have it

it is so much darker at night here in afghanistan
were NVGs don’t even help
where thinking happy thoughts
and humming tunes in your head
only muffled the dark’s energy

he does not mind
mind it he does not
but his mind does mind
minding musical chair thoughts
that tip tap on his right side
as the left jots off
the brain does mind
and he wants to make up lost time
but he does not rush thoughts
his mind mingles in thought
though he knows
he does not know
but he don't mind it he don't

as a wet hand wipes off the glass

2009-10-09T14:25:00.003-04:00

better

better
better said in a mirror
as fog dulls the reflection
better
better said in a mirror
as a wet hand wipes off the glass
better
better not talk too loud
someone better might hear me
better
better to not care
but statement to question mark
better is better

As you pay last respects to your soldier

2009-09-21T10:18:00.006-04:00

I to eyes
by Matt Freire

Yesterday we joked
Lots of laughs
Fun times
The times lives should be made of
And filled with
The companionship of friends
Even though my GPS coordinates are located in a war zone
These times I’m well acquainted with

And today
Today is the same
At least for the majority of the day
But a small large part
Put life into play

Yesterday while we joked
A rocket kissed our FOB and injured a hand full
And one
One gave
As they say
The ultimate sacrifice

I haven’t met they
But I’ve heard they’s words
They create, conjure and destroy
They are welcomed, shunned and ever-present
They lurk
They stock
Some say they are indifferent
Some say they are passionate
But either way you phrase
We all hear what they say
We listen to they
We all are they

And today
Because of yesterday
And those that are they
Fallen comrade ceremony was held today

Honorable event
Emotional event
Real event
Just
Not the most enjoyable event

To attend

To photograph

It’s long, hot and uncomfortable
That feeling is there
That tense feeling
That pain feeling
That emotional feeling

That past tense feeling
That could have been feeling
That that’s how it can happen feeling
That I don’t want to be here feeling
That feeling
Feeling that feeling
That there’s a dead husband and father of six
In a red white and blue covered metal box
With scattered stars
Sitting in the middle of an empty C130
While six children and a wife….

That’s a direction I will not go
As I listen to the Chaplin reciting scripture
Grieving sounds of tears, sniffling and marching
Vibrating off the metallic air-Hurst’s stomach walls

I hate standing right here
Eye to eye to you
To the leaders
To the friends
To the loved ones
As you pay last respects to your soldier
Your comrade
Your friend
This
This is uncomfortable feeling
That feeling you remember
That feeling that’s with you forever

I’m feeling I’m hungry
A feeling the deceased knows no meaning
Dozens march up in the belly

Group halt
Right face
Present arms
Order arms

They take humble knees to the floor
Giving respects with eyes closed so tight the dead become alive
And a final moment is shared
And you peek at who's next to you
Because you don’t know how long you should pay respects
Thinking those next to you know
But knowing that person next to you doesn’t know
Like anyone knows
Hand touching the cold box
Clenching the flag
Till one starts to stand

Present arms
Order arms
Left face
Forward
They march shuffling composure away
As I stay and capture what I can
What I should
What I let myself

A comrade
A soldier
A friend
A women no more than 5 foot 90lbs
Takes knee and places her strong blood pumping hand
On the flag
That clenches to a fist
And an agonizing scream echoes on the hollow
Vibrating in the living
As the emotional small fist pounds on the red and white
As the tears pour from her eyes
As memories flood out
As emotions break

A friend close by reaches out to comfort
But sometimes there is no immediate comfort
Sometime all there is
Is time

And I stand motionless
Wrists crossed at my waste
Camera pointed down
Without the “glory” of that great shot
Without the selfish distance so easily I could defend myself with

Some moments should not be captured
Some moments are worth more than a thousand words
These moments
Moments that my digits, mouth and mind can’t explain
Just the feeling
The feeling of knowing what’s right
What’s human
An action
Some of us humans
Are dehumanized too

frivolous confabs and librettos

2009-09-12T23:59:00.003-04:00

send it with technicolor sauce
by Matt Freire

i didn't write anything for awhile
and i didn't like it
but don't have writers block i have execution block
i have a desire to write about so much
but i can’t articulate and adjust my firing squad
to get a kill
because the rounds double feed
and jam my starved chamber

con-
struct a reality
and commit it to memory
commit to the uncertainties of language
suspect the increasingly clear
is why i keep my windows dirty

in hot pursuing
bullets tease the opposition's intuition
the self-
imposed fetish of objectivity
to write
words
frivolous confabs and librettos
wish to make their plight known
and how i construct
it depends upon isolated places
and the opposite of lethargy
and a magazine of insomnia
i pull from my plate carrier

so
first of all
describe in
detail the various actions taking place
capable of disturbing the assumed
shall it inquire into
or onto
or has it
or should it
with an almost endless humanity
let us
then suppose
in the very process of laying bare
by ourselves
no limits can be assigned to the iterations of our minds
or alteration of our breath
or whatever you please to call them

send it
like the buildings on fire and your cup of coffee is evaporating too quickly
leaving you without your security rush

send it
like winos who go to grocery stores and steal grapes
that the produce man feels sorry for and lets happen

send it
like it’s been vocalized to the deaf and blind
while you push to the front of rock concerts

the digressive maundering perceived
is a consummate
pro-
portion swallow
problems involved
resolve
the finished
the working on
the approaching
wither like a time-lapse film of conception to submersion
pausing superficial at developmental millstones
because there could be a lot to cover

a smidgen about the author

2009-09-12T16:39:00.004-04:00

i am a Leo by month or an ox by birth year. That might mean something to some people but means absolutely nothing to me. it would be sweet, though, to be a large lion and eat an ox.

i have brown eyes that are color blind.

my forehead is aptly known by some as a fivehead giving the optical illusion that i have a large dome. in fact my hat size is that of a pubescent

my clothes are medium regular housing a mildly ill-regular figure

i love to write even though this cannot be done without spell check

my hands are soft even though i constantly labor in work

society describes me white even though i'm more of a reddish hue

i'm average height even though everyone seems taller than me

i have strong opinions even though i'm usually a quiet conscious observer

most of my faults i keep hidden even to myself

i love the hunt but i have never killed and don't plan on it anytime soon

if it's you or i, you will die. if its me or my family, they will live

i fear being alone but alone is what i am

i spend a lot of time thinking but make most decisions spontaneously

i am quiet and reserved in new situations but those who know me would tell you the complete opposite

laughter is my favorite pastime but drama and action is what i fill my life with

water is my favorite hydration tool. Cranberry juice is my favorite airplane beverage. if you offered an orange or grape soda, i'd decline it

i urinate in the shower and i don't believe people who say they don't

i'm generally positive or at least pretend that i am

i don't always know what's going on but pretend that i do

i learn the hard way, skipping a concertina wire jump rope on a road most traveled

i would sing all the time but people would take me for simple

when i'm confronted by people i always first think i did something wrong

i turn red when embarrassed

i naturally look at peoples' mouths when they talk to me but force myself to look at there eyes because socially that's norm. i never know what eye to look at though

i have a lot of ideas and goals that i start then spend hours convincing myself they're stupid

i think best at night, maybe that's why i sleep so well

if i could survive on dreaming i would

if you had an office and left me in the office alone for a bit, and if there was a paper clip on the desk of that office, i would bend the paperclip so it could not hold papers together

i don't like cake so for my birthday i eat pumpkin pie

if i could please everyone i think i would purposely piss off one or two

my favorite defense mechanism is a projectile weapon

i would rather play pictionary with friends then play any card game involving money

i have never gambled for money but have done many things that put my life at risk

i know i'm stubborn but don't think i am

my goal is to one day be content with myself but being content means I'm not trying hard enough or I'm ignoring something

when someone says don't look, i look

i read all the imagery in magazines and look at the words

i say how's it going for a greeting sometimes but almost never want to know how the person is doing

what's up is a greeting i respond to with what's up.

i like writing words that take a moment to think about to get the various meanings, but i when i read others works i like to understand them immediately

if i wasn't me, i wouldn't read me's stuff

i have a low bandwidth if i'm hungry

i have one of the most eclectic music selections of anyone i know, but i don't know everyone's music collection i knows

i keep trying chocolate thinking i'm going to like it this time

i don't always condone what i do or do what i intend

after rigorous activities to the point of exhaustion i like to take a semi-cold shower, enough for some steam to fog up the mirror. sometimes i wipe away the fog and make faces at my self

i'm 24 and i act my age anywhere between the ages of 17 to 47

if i had a super power it would be to grow a super cool mustache

if trying times made me stronger, i might be able to come up with more to write

i would write more to this smidgen but it now bores me and i want to move on, really i'm just lazy but i convince myself that it's done and since it's late and i'm tired and mosquitoes are draining my fluids i'm easily swayed

some favorite photos

2009-09-09T10:58:00.003-04:00

Some favorite photos, either because of composition & light or because of the pathos in the faces or maybe the pathos the faces educe.

living like this has brought me to this

2009-09-09T10:54:00.001-04:00

PTISD
by Matt Freire

if i had to choose between a rock and a hard place i would choose the rock
to knock myself out with
for even only a few hours
escaping this for just awhile
hoping this will pass
i don’t want to pass out in a hard place
that just doesn’t sound fun
but i am in a hard place
and i feel faint

ive been foul, disgusting, rotten, grotesque
the presence i'm giving off is one inhuman
i have become a different person
i actually don’t consider myself human
i'm some type of vile creature who prays on the innocent and unsuspecting

people don't want to be around me
people i don't want to be around

i make a conscious effort to stay in solitude these days
a recluse i've turned into by necessity
i can’t control my violent outbreaks anymore
i never thought i'd come to this
i always thought myself a better man
maybe standards were unrealistic
maybe i didn't put everything into factor
or factor everything
too illogical for me to achieve
now as society is out of reach
because i devolved into something
that i can’t quite word

i am the type your haste is a must

i am the type you flee with child in hand
when i enter the room you better put your ear muffs on
because i'm vicious
i will attack you
i will show no mercy
attacking man woman and child
this matters not to i
at this
the current state of my life

the army has a large part to do with this
war has a huge part to do with this
i have a ginormous part to do with this
living like this has brought me to this

i don't like it when it’s quiet
i know the horrors that creep in the quiet
like masked ninjas throwing blades and poison darts
i don't like it when its loud
it creates discomfort
the noise wakes me up at night
and it tears me up at times
even though that’s hard to admit how odious i have become

because i've never teared in the silent of the night before
like this before
i've never had to keep moving trying to get away from myself before
like this before
i can’t stand myself
before after or during
like this no more
i'm a nasty horrible evil
i will never be able to forget the things that i did
for sure
the people i did them to
not forewarned
it makes my hair fall out
and then want to burn my clothes
the air is torn
scrub my hands till they bleed clean
to get this horrid off my corpse because i am beyond the stench of death

can there be a cure to this
i was not always like this
and i cannot live like this
i can handle it while i'm here in afghan
for a bit
but in the states
in society
my kind is not welcome
my kind is not asked
but poked with a long stick to leave
great shame i've become
great unease i've caused myself and those around

borborygmus like no other
when i burp it taste like vomit
yes i can actually taste my burps
and if you were within a 15 foot radius you could too
i can even chew on my burps as if it were vomit flavored oatmeal jelly fish
with chunks of goat flesh and MREs
and that can not compare to
the methane that i produce
and the toilette food
i care not to describe
for i have self diagnosed myself with PTISD
putrid traumatic intestine sewage disorder
or maybe disease
i don't know it’s hard to think
i'm writing this from my porcelain island of relief and discomfort
with the door open
for being enclosed with myself right now is not an option

my camera and weapon in arm's reach

2009-09-06T01:04:00.006-04:00

BCP6
by Matt Freire

Sitting overlooking the border of Pakistan
Listening to the vocal bugs ratchet Morris code song
Relaxing
Nice weather this night
Like a camping trip my mind drifts
Then I think of my weapon
We were just told attack is imminent
Word from multiple sources
We aren’t worried
We are dug in good
Only thing to worry about are mortars
But i have no confidence in their ability
We all take our positions
Mine with the radios and the medic
And I sleep as if I was on vacation
With my camera and weapon in arm's reach

Task Force Khwost test fire a ZSU23 at Pakistan border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sept. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

Naan

2009-09-06T00:51:00.004-04:00

Photos:

Task Force Khwost prepares dinner at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

Task Force Khwost covers naan at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

Goat

2009-09-06T00:28:00.008-04:00

"Goat is the most frequently consumed meat in the world." Ohio State University Fact Sheet

"[The] ability to survive in inhospitable areas has made goat the most widely consumed meat in the world..." Paula Disbrowe, NY Times Magazine

Photos:

Task Force Khwost prepares a goat for dinner at border control point 6, Khwost province Afghanistan Sep. 3rd, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

Ramadan is practiced by almost all

2009-09-06T00:21:00.003-04:00

Antonym of tasteless

by Matt Freire

Fingers clench the head back as the rusty knife saws into the throat
The captives’ cries turn to sputtering then silence as blood sprays the gravel
The spine resists the blade
But the continual saw eventual separates the head from the body
the mouth still motions as if finding breath to call the body
The legs twitch and randomly kick as if trying to locate the head

One down
The next bound victim is grabbed
Crying as if it knows its fate
yet helpless
even though only grass bound the legs
The blade draws a red line across the neck
This time stopped at the spine
Perhaps because blood sprayed into the knife bearer’s mouth

An explosion in the distance
Diverts our attention

From our vantage we can see the smoke
VBED
IED
Who knows
It creates a stir for awhile
Then back to task at hand

These guys are hungry
It’s Ramadan and they fast when the sun is up
Waiting till 1820 tonight
It will be dark then

Meet hook slides into the first’s leg and is strung up on a HESCO
And the years of skinning is witness by my virgin eyes
A slice in the ankle and then grab the skin
Pull the skin off as if it were a tight jacket that the zipper broke
Readjust, a few well place cuts
Bare hands digging and pulling
Until the whole coat is off

Lot less bloody then I imagined
The only real bloody part has already happened
Even when they hack off the appendages
And when they slice the belly

The organs are just as you would think
I thought as the intestines plopped on the ground
The same as you see in movies
More vivid in color though

But hardly any blood

A board is placed on the ground where the meat goes
Men get to work removing bone and the unnecessary
All without gloves
I imagine this process hasn’t changed much

rusty knives and bayonets continue their worth
to the kitchen
the smell is ancient, as is the room
blackened walls
stale archaic presence

well water is poured on the meat
and drained into a hole that puddles outside
the meat is rinsed and sifted through
cut even smaller
a pile of onions in the corner is sifted through and deiced by the same blades used on the flesh

a man starts sweeping
I would have picked a better time
Dirt lands on uncovered flesh
as the fire starts
dust picks up
anything that can burn is thrown in flame
Plastic bottles create hot flames
and blinding smoke

the dark room hardly ventilated
and my eyes burn and water
my throat and lungs shred
my nose pours relentlessly
yet these guys go about their work unaffected

the fire starts dying
diesel helps it along

a large iron pot is set
water and cans of lard fill half the pot
the chef hawks loogies on the ground as he stirs the goat
other ingredients are added

flour starts to be beat in the other room
molded into little balls to be flattened and thrown into the flame

my hunger builds
yet they must wait till dark before eating
more patient than i
I am starving
Ramadan is practiced by almost all
So I wait with them

Actually I sneak off and eat an MRE
Then wait with them

The Children of August 31, 2009

2009-09-02T18:13:00.006-04:00

Photos:

Coalition forces alongside 2nd Afghan Commandos question a family for information during a cordon and search of a compound as part of Operation Raven, Aug. 31st, 2009. Operation Raven is a joint operation involving Task Force Khowst and 2nd Afghan commandos, to search for an IED cell operating in the area east of Khowst City, Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

troops in contact: a sound you never want to hear

2009-08-31T19:35:00.010-04:00

getting our money’s worth
by Matt Freire

it’s interesting the things we don't say
the things that could make for stories
the things that lived through could make a profit
words cannot say all of the things
nor try to i
these things holding dear secular
if only penmanship could experience bring

there’s a creature in the distance
i feel its lurking presence
i sense its closed fists
with all senses
i feel its rage is incontinent
i smell its musk
it’s relentless
i taste its compassion
it’s irrelevant

stealth is key in the absence of speed
speed is key in absence

i sit in darkness
as the droplets of rain distort the night
i recap
i suck in
I’m holding
in the night

lightning hiding the thunder
and the explosions
and the awe spectacle of worthy display and recognition

what a day it was
what a day it could have been
so many days filled with what could have been
i have not dared to mention
nor fingertips or lips able

a lucky omen i am
such bullish thoughts are trifle and stupid
but for some unspeakable truth
it rings out
and we humans like truth

explosions rocket the convoy
as we leave our ops
i not knowing the time
or status
results in pulling security in the midst of battle
and i
not pursing moments that can be
or distantly capable of being observed by many

troops in contact
a sound you never want to hear
troops in contact
a sound that brings new meaning when your right there

when you hear the boom
tenses your toes on up
when you hear the vibrations
clench every orifice shut
and feel the danger
of what's going on
fills the mind’s chambers
indescribable is this fever
but yet fulfills me
in every way much deeper

troops in contact
we unload to secure
the distant sound muffled
now
in the rain and recording of prayer
attentive vigilance calms the night air
rifle and crew served weapons
that filled my day's air
doesn't release the could have been

should i be
a question everyone asks
glad i am
that this day un-lived we did pass

Photos:
Task Force Khowst soldier aids an Afghan man after his vehicle hit an improvised explosive device in the Khowst province of Afghanistan Aug. 28th, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

Someone this turkey is overdone

2009-08-29T15:08:00.001-04:00

Top Notch
By Matt Freire

This one wants to act but lacks the power to
This one has the power but acting doesn’t suit
And this piece of shit i don’t know anything about you
What the hell am i gonna do with all of you
The job is simple and you make it tough
I don’t get it, it’s too easy i got you all the stuff
You need to stop smiling you, i’ve had it up to here
You all make my heart hurt
I need a smoke i’ll be out side
Okay boss we'll get it done
Someone this turkey is overdone
Throw it out and let the dogs devour
the nights full of hunger

she wanted my agony

2009-08-29T14:53:00.003-04:00

jocular glower
by Matt Freire

And i don't know about you but i got this little thing to do
And i’m gonna take my time when i talk about this
Because last time we talked you left me with a razor blade kiss

I was laying down only wearing her and i didn't feel naked at all
She mounted up
I felt alive like
intertwined turbine electricity generators
conducting enough power
as to run all the wrist watches in the world
and i lost track of time

And i started sweating on her
her mouth like a respirator
breathing for me
hands like scalpels and retractors
and she makes her fingers as surgical scissors
and she cuts at my chest
exposing my heart

see
She wants to see my agony
this unbeknown till now to me
that her cunning ways only swell
to the proliferating of my agony

her lips like hemostatic forceps
she wanted trauma
like a third degree burn
the slow cancer spreads
her words made out like a troemner hammer
checking my reflexes she swings
and i'm clamped blood hardly moving

see
i like to think
I am i double m you n e
But it stings just a bit when you consistently...
when you constantly...
see
my sanity is definitely defiant
yet i keep my tyrant self in a cage
because you never know when you have to take it off the shelf
see

she wanted my agony
and she knew how to get it
so as a life line i call out to god
and at this she smiles
and incises my ears away as to not hear a response
then sews them to my palms
as if this is a genuine favor
see
she says this is my surgery

You have a god complex i yell at her
she says i have a weak god
and cuts out my tongue
and sews it to my wrists
so i can taste the time
and taste my last drip

she wanted my agony
see
I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, i got dropped off
she was getting mad because i was eating from her private stock
i know that shit was hers but i know it tastes the finest
but she just likes me to ride sitting starving next to fulfillment
she would rather me walk then tell me why
but i know why i could see it in her eyes
see
she wanted agony
yet all i have is pride
I'm a simple minded man
who she should have never let inside

see
i’m now unstitched
sewn freakishly Fighting
the tide of blood spill
Swimming upstream like a solo seasoned trout
who takes a swift paw
and now i reside in the belly of a grizzly bear
see
i cannot bear a transaction like this
see
i cannot stand to let this medical malpractice

Pull it off slowly
Don't look at me!
see you don't look at me
and don't just stand there move around like it’s fun
Why is that still on
turn around
Now those have to go as well
take it off
slowly
see i see you
see you don't look at me
Don't look at me!

i’m full of agony i just don’t like to show it
i’m compromised with doubt
i’m ingested with dilemmas
i’m suffocated exhalation
see
she wanted my agony
and she was willing to go the distance to get it
and she pulled it out kidney stone like
if pain was her goal
she fulfilled it
but see
if she just would have asked
i would have given it to her freely

rifle pop shots and I belt out screams

2009-08-29T14:39:00.002-04:00

Pulsing Stake
By Matt Freire

Step stepping steps of distress that arrest the congested chest
that strips off vests and the rest of this mess
moves out west to stake claims and to find some of that sweet internets
I heard they got some out California way
Around these parts they done 'n dried up

So I grab my mead and feed my gallant steed
the skeezey journeymen are menacing
but I’m more mean
rifle pops shots and I belt out screams
and squeeze their life’s dreams
All in search of these internets

Information highway my display is flickering away
as I surf without getting wet but a debt could be picked up in this quest
as I ingest pages of url dot com turf blurbs
of whatever I could question is answered with a click
wrist skip spam handle this with blood shot retinas
viruses infected Trojans are opposite of fun

channel change digits
change newscasters illiterate static midgets
set themselves on fire
as i huff ‘n puff this house is made of blades
star spangle this razor cuts finger
cuts knuckles
cuts sitcoms and commercials
plug it in
turn it on
snappy nurses and foreign fishermen's liberation
sit down the change
sit down the change
but never blink
and the mind is gone
circuit crucified
my mind hangs 999 channels wide
flip on its hind end
but nothing’s playing
but eyes are stained straining
glaring changing
various murk this Astro turf needs a mow
weeded cinderblock sidewalks
the overt mustard seed needs to grow

I’m like a pulsing stake
Meat flavored bubble gum with a shot of hot sauce
Liquid snakes the drain
ankles angled asinine
pacified the remote
turn the volume up i can’t hear you
over the sound of my pulsing heart

beat
turn it on
beat
wonder from
pulse movement catapults direct
pause static interference

the character you know won't make it

2009-08-27T12:28:00.004-04:00

redshirt #7
by Matt Freire

this is a nonversation
a completely worthless conversation
where nothing is illuminated
or explained
yet there’s complications
of short durations
so jot this on paper
as i cobra yawn on my arm

woke with bite marks all over my flesh
bedbugs are real and exist in my bed
finger crumble the eye gunk
feel exhausted
even though i just woke
slept too much i suspect
i feel like the chip that broke in the dip
and i'm contemplating sending in the rescue ship
or leaving the broken chip in the dip

it helps manufacture outrage
sequestered as a minor stock character
to be a redshirt
cannon fodder
a plot slash character shield
a star trek expendable
the character you know won’t make it
the character you say out loud
hey check out redshirt
he’s gonna die

fact: redshirts die violently soon after being introduced

my mouth is angry
stuck caps lock voice
conscience comes into play
alt-tab’n life
i’ll just leave you in the inbox rot
ctrl-alt-delete
doesn’t fix the inbox rot

the chip situation is still under mental contemplation

i just had a miss wave
nothing gets more embarrassing
but i swear i thought he was waving at me
then i realized i didn't know him
and then i saw the person behind me
flapping his wrist
and my head and ego just sank slightly below sea level

chip now too soggy to be described as a chip
but still contemplating the rescue

we've got a problem
but first of all there is no we
it’s just me
and for some reason i'm just angry
today
maybe it’s that time of the month
and as a wordsmith or teenager might say
i have manstration

fact: redshirts dramatize the dangerous situations
faced by the main characters by dying

i have destinesia
i arrived at where i intended to go
but forgot why i came here in the first place
and as a redshirt not liking my role
just below supporting cast
i say out loud
WWJKD
and i hear it bounce off the far walls
and fade
so i say again
WWJKD
but honestly i wouldn't know what James Kirk would do
he would probably pump the passenger brakes
and be beamed
directly to his quarters

The Second Presidential Election in Afghan History

2009-08-24T11:29:00.016-04:00

Thursday, 20 August 2009 -- even though it might mean nothing

even though it might mean nothing

2009-08-24T11:18:00.013-04:00

askar (pashto for soldier)
by Matt Freire

imagine an unstoppable force with massive death defying fire power and invincibility
that moves silently and unaware by all
a force that catches RPGs like footballs
and IED are like pop rocks in the mouth
imagine how you would feel walking with this force in a hostile war zone
they would be the war zone
imagine those sons of bitches war faces
the harden intimidating lines sun dirt and salt sliced and engraved fear
the narrowed eyes of reality and the horrors unimagined
where if your eyes locked theirs your eyes would never blink again
where just the slightest glance of them and it feels like paper cuts on the retina
the nostrils that don’t even curl
at the scent of death
because that’s all the mouth breathes
their spit is as acid and puts crater size
holes in the ground
imagine their presence as rain runs away from them
as life turns to dust with their touch
where battle is no more stress than digesting an apple for lunch

well i did eat an apple today as part of my lunch
left over naan that’s been sitting in a trash bag harvesting larva
and fresh chai out of dirty glasses
and i smile because
it’s honestly delicious

16 venture on foot
through human-filled streets of uncertainty
5 us soldiers and 10 afghan fighters
and a camera
making our presence known
to all sides
to those that would walk up and blow themselves up and see if you want to go with them
to those that would walk up and say "what it up maan" and give you a thumbs up
thousands of faces
all fitting the possible
millions of pieces of trash
all being explode-able

nerve-racking it should have felt but
overwhelmed with opportunity
i felt only enjoyment

eye witnessing history is moving
knowing it's happening
seeing it happen

i witness great change
people voting in a combat environment
people voted even though the taliban put out deadly threats
even though there lives could end
even though it might mean nothing
i never really cared about voting till that day
i saw a man that i have been fighting along side
an afghan man who is in the task force khowst
he doesn't wear a face mask like most of these guys
even though he is from this area
even though it puts his family in danger close
inspiring man
inspiring people
i've come to respect the people
i've come to respect the culture
i've come to love the food

the week of afghan elections i spent in a russian-built structure
located down town khowst city afghanistan
we called it malaria inn
in the heart of the city
a blood pumping
two minute walk from the Mosque
a blood pumping
two minute walk to the market
a blood pumping
longest two minute walk you could ever take
a blood stopping
possible shortest two minute walk
and we walk
almost daily
and we would stop and talk to locals
through the medium of an interpreter
sha-laam.
hello.
Del-tah-koom day terror-ee-stah-noh pa bah-rah-kee kha-bar la-ray?
Know anything about terrorist here?
Chair-ray?
Where?

we are looking for them

an afghan national police officer got short with our interpreter and laughed at him
our ’terp doesn't take shit from no one
slapped the ANP in the face and took his Ruchnoy Pulemyot Kalashnikova
and took his smile
and for those that don’t know the RPK is a gas operated rotating bolt light weight machine gun
capable of firing six hundred 7.62mm rounds a minute
i’m surprised he didn’t kill him
our ’terp has been around
was part of the force fighting against russia
he was an opium smuggler for three years going into pakistan
but that got too dangerous
and he became part of a resistance
the resistance force he was in of 40 persons
only 14 are still alive
fighting taliban
he now has been working with U.S. special forces for 9 years
the stories his eyes have seen
a man from looking you would have no idea
looking you would think not capable
wrong answer
he is more than capable

that unstoppable force exists
it’s real
as real as dreams are real

wuh-dar-ray-gah!
stop!
waass-lah wah-chah-wah!
drop your weapons!
lah-soo-nah porta-kah!
hands up!
choop-shay!
no talking
choop-shay!
no talking

(1) pashto is the main language in the area i'm in

singing i'm in love with a woman

2009-08-24T11:10:00.003-04:00

the will wonders
by Matt Freire

hello
vibrations echo on metallic cold ones and zeros
splash
the soft sweaty sound of a lost boat rower
silence
static channels mute the reality
answer
it’s out there or is it in front of me?

and where is
the head bone
that is connected to the
retractable arm synapse controlled by cockpit
laser guided coordination biblical
instrument panels short circuit and get rewired
bypassing the mainframe
re-frame the rise of the heart beat
watching countless hungry heads nod whisper and judge
to what they think should be
not to be done up by factious foundries
a swarm gathers armed and ferrous
falsely flattered with cock and bull rhetoric
the prophecy was written a thousand three hundred and seventy one years ago in a book now burned
that no one read
because a woman wrote it

and she was found to be the weight of a goose
and like witches found in that time she burned
but she actually couldn't read or write
she was just in the wrong time
working in the wrong job
clothing the dead
dressing them up presentable
and on one day she was redressing a dead man
who jumped up to declare
the sky is falling
the sky is falling
the sky is falling because men are pushing on it from above
and fire will not change minds

and one eyewitness turned into several
and the news spread like disease
and she was thought to be a witch
calling out they did
scolding
chastising
not letting dead men be dead men
she’s evil
she unnatural

but really she exclaimed he was not dead in the slightest
he was just knocked out drunk
but men in those times didn't speak the same language as women
and she was bound and burned

and a noble man’s cries could be heard in these times
singing i'm in love with a woman
i am in love with a most wonderful woman
she is the heat that started the sun
the wind that controls the tides
if i lost her i would shortly die
because i
i am in love with a woman
i am in love with a most wonderful woman
i am just waiting for the day when we are introduced

and the glass is left indecisive

countless heads bob in cataclysmic reverberation
a squint of events dancing indiscriminate
the blast in the street wakes the dreamers
and seeing contorts believing
and the deaf start hearing screams and misfortune
the sighted go blind by callous peers
scabs build on scabs
as gritting teeth operate the controls
new games are played by rules no one is informed of

the needs now become undistinguished by the passing of time
the air saturated by polluted nostalgia
old fads blossom
the future mirage the past
and more time elapses into
eye score
carpel tunnel
and ecstasy overdose

sometimes there are not enough rocks

2009-08-24T11:02:00.002-04:00

Haiku: there are 17 syllables
by Matt Freire

You only lose that ignorance after you gain that experience

If feeling real stupid is normal then I must be really normal

Sitting on a flight line all damn day sometimes there are not enough rocks

Life is so fast and so complex what happens when it finally slows down

I drink hot sauce not because I like it but because it looks so cool

That last one was a lie I like hot sauce I just can’t stomach hot stuff

Potential to be notable potential to not note anything

I want a mortar to go through my ceiling because I like sun roofs

The best part of my birthday in Afghanistan was killing hot sauce

It’s cool when I sweat it keeps me cool but it doesn’t make me look cool

I almost blew up today actually I didn’t even come close

I lay in bed needing to pee but telling myself I can hold it

Farting in a zipped up sleeping bag not always the best idea

I wish mentally I could scratch my head, mentally I can’t do it

My shoulder is knocked out of place and it hurts

The strangest thing happened but it stopped abruptly

Birthdays are better in Afghanistan when no one around you knows

Can you all in the back hear me legibly?

2009-08-24T10:55:00.003-04:00

Being in the army and in combat gives you strange characters and situations that occasionally spawn unique verbal discharge. Here is a collection of some of the madness I’ve heard since being here. Some I’ve heard before but this environment gives new meaning to the phrases. I thought you might enjoy.

"I look more hoo-ah from a distance."

Soldiers coming in off a mission were greeted by some high ranking officer, I think a Lt. Col. He told a group of soldiers they looked tired and said, "You don't want the enemy thinking you’re tired now, do ya?" The response was "I look more hoo-ah from a distance," to which the brass had no response.

"I can’t fart with any confidence."

This quote was spawned by the horrid stomach jihad on a coalition soldier.

"60 pounds of light weight shit is still 60 pounds."

This was a 240 gunner’s response to a platoon leader who said, “It won’t be bad. It's only a few kilometers and you only have to take your light weight shit with you.”

"Did you get anything good?"

I’m sure every combat camera soldier has heard this. A POA (Public Affairs Officer) asked me about my photos right after Smitty and I were talking about how after every mission we go on someone is bound to ask if we got any good photos.

"If you have any issues grab a tissue."

A medic told me this when I got the stomach jihad.

“Can you all in the back hear me legibly?”

I was in an operation brief and as I was falling asleep when this line woke me up.

“The situational situation."

This was from the same guy at the same op brief.

“I need water like JFK needed Kevlar."

I heard this during a hot, sweaty dismounted patrol in the markets of Khowst city.

“Get you wetter then water."

I heard a genius mutter this after an air assault; he was referring to a body function in his body armor.

"Some days there are not enough rocks."

I was sitting with the FTF waiting in Sharana for a bird to pick us up and we waited for hours, birds coming and going without us and this soldier was sitting there throwing rocks for a good twenty minutes when he said this. I thought it was funny. Maybe because I was tired or maybe it’s how he said it. Think Forrest Gump.

“You hang with dogs you get fleas."

A soldier referring to people who house Taliban fighters then complain that we raid their house and detain them.

"If you fart again there is going to be a Dustwun part 2."

Locked up in a Mine Resistant Ambush Protectant vehicle for 4 hours with 5 soldiers, MRAPs are good for protection from the outside assaults but not good protection from what's on the inside. Dustwun was an operation looking for a soldier who decided to go for a nature walk and got captured by the Taliban.

"The good thing about being a medic is you feel no pain."

A medic told me this when I had stomach jihad.

I have nothing to say

2009-08-22T18:12:00.007-04:00

You can own skipping stones or you can throw them
by Matt Freire

He spit out what he ate
And tacked on an H
Now he’s a big man
Now he talks tough
He spits a confetti of hate
Verbal graffiti covers his world like used condoms
Dripping lube and tears
Blood and innocence
Masking insecurities
But I
I have no words to say

She sharpens her daggers
On the edges of every person she meets
She builds up her defenses
So no man can infiltrate
Now she's locked and loaded
Now she's fine tuning her sights
For that pitiful twit to say something
Anything and he's overrun like cancer
Everything causes cancer

Maybe cancer is the cause of everything
Anyway he's dead
Not breathing
And laying there cold he doesn’t even have a smile
Just nothing
And I
I have nothing to say

But plenty in my generation have something to say
Have you ever though that this is the generation that will make a difference
Make a change
On a global scale
For the better
This generation
My generation
Has the ability and the tools
The know how
And the desire
In my life time already my generation has witnessed more change then any other generation in history
And the changes have just begun
An my life has just begun
And I have a front row seat
But I get up to go to the concession stand because I have a sweet tooth
The show has already started
But I know I can just go online
On the internet and recap what I’ve missed
See the world second hand
Live life second hand

Yet I
My tongue is tied
Because I'm a second hand man
In a second hand life
Eating second hand food
With a second hand spoon
Seconds I will have
Because one isn’t as good as two

Photo:
U.S. Army Soldiers from 4th Brigade Combat Team 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force, wait for the CH-47 Chinook helicopter to conclude an air assault mission to search the Khowst province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Aug. 5, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khowst province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

foolish thoughts of battle and his part in it

2009-08-22T17:13:00.007-04:00

Press Play
by Matt Freire

The kid unknowing is what the story is about
Keeps moving even though he doesn’t know what he's doing
The kid has lots of foolish thoughts of battle and his part in it
These thoughts don’t come true
Eat that and tell me if it tastes true
He learns a lot
Has little to talk about
Or chooses to keep muffled, to quiet his words
Does what he can
Tries to make an honest living doing an honest days work
This is not the normal soldier
This is not the normal Afghan war story you hear about
It's actually quite boring and uneventful
No one hears about the wait
No one talks about the wait
People only want action in this information world
Luckily he has some cool dreams to make him feel alive
Movies, he watches more movies in a month then he would in three in the real world
The quality of the movies he watches diminishes
Not only in actual video quality but in cinematic directorial quality
Movies that go straight to video
Movies that should never be made
Movies that were forgotten for a reason
He sits now in a sf camp secluded from the rest of the war and plays guitar in the mwr as he watches movies

Photo:
Task Force Khowst guards military age males during a raid on a suspected insurgent safe haven as part of Operation Cohort, Aug.11, 2009. Operation Cohort is a joint operation involving Task Force Khowst and Coalition Forces that focus on specific militant targets and safe havens within Khowst province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

He moves to combat ... Where words escape him

2009-08-09T04:00:00.014-04:00

"Speaker for the Dead" (1)
By Matt Freire

So who is this guy?
He born in 1985
He sits and plays alone with legos
He loved trampoline sleep overs

He junior high
He loud mouth
He not one to back down
He gets beat down frequently
He blew air bubbles in toilet water
He knows the inside of trash cans
He cries

He Eagle Scout
He participated in many charitable events
He church goer
He rode unicycle, played piano and drew
He wondered and questioned
He had things he wished he knew

He reached high school
He experienced life
He consumed copious amounts of illegal substances

He black sheep
He troubled
He depressed
He blackens tooth on college guy’s fist

He hospitalize tall kid
He gets kicked out of school district
He deviant
He self medicated
He depressed

He skateboarded, played guitar and painted
He razor blood
He wondered if he would make it

He discovers words
He relies on spell check
He the worst speller he knows
He smoked his schooling
He felt alone

He meets a girl
He joins the army in 2004
He forgets words
He journeys off to experience more

He travels Europe
He spends two months in hospital
He loses kidney
He now runs funny
He marry
He divorce
He church no shower
He find new course

He drowns in worldly ways
He moves up and down
He has had better days
He moves to combat
He learns new experiences
Where words escape him

(1) Note: Orson Scott Card's novel "Speaker for the Dead" dealt with finding the truth of a person's life and telling that story after his or her death. I acknowledge his title, his phrase, which I use for my title. I thank him for his truth-telling concept resonating in me as the best way to memorialize someone.

Photo:
Me with Afghan child.

Survival of the fittest but I’ll never leave a fallen comrade

2009-08-09T03:57:00.008-04:00

Haiku
By Matt Freire

I have never ever written a haiku how's this is it all right

I’m not quite sure how these are suppose to go or what they are used for

I drink bottles and bottles of water and it still looks just like tang

Hot water tastes really good when you are extremely dehydrated

Fat people are harder to kidnap that is why I eat like I do

Survival of the fittest but I’ll never leave a fallen comrade

The way my food crumbles reminds me of the manner my mind mumbles

There can be a nasty taste in my mouth and my toothbrush does not help

Climb a mountain of human poop and I still will smell worse then you do

I live for those sudden moments that I can immediately pass

Everyone needs to hate on someone that’s why I hate on porta jons

Do not look too surprised when I slap you in the face with a haiku

I like funny words like moisturizer is Jergens extra healing

Why do air raid sirens seem to always alert us after the fact

Breaking your nose can hurt just as bad as spitting food in a guys face

What is a haiku, if you can figure it out I'll give you a treat

He told me the liquor made him piss his pants but I knew otherwise

Stop snitching because that will make all of our lives closer to the end

Look how racist we crackers are don’t crumble me up in your hot soup

I do prefer jelly on my toast but jam is a good substitute

I wish I made sense to you but I could never make sense to myself

Photo:
U.S. Soldiers from 2nd Battalion, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, wait for the CH-47 Chinook to land so they can depart from an air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 28, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

It seems like a case of fraud waste and abuse

2009-08-09T03:55:00.007-04:00

Freedom Fighters
By Matt Freire

There is nothing I feel better about while in a war environment than being surrounded by obese, oxygen-stealing, chow-hall loitering soldiers.

Why are they here?
Why do I only see them in the d-fac?
What can they do besides suck plates full of processed dehydrated food?
How much money do we spend on these mouth breathing heifers?
It seems like a case of fraud waste and abuse.
I get so disgusted when I see them shovel fried chicken, yams, potato chips, pound cake, onion rings, dripping condiment smothered hamburgers, all washed down their gizzards by a cola all in one meal.
Today I saw one that I thought could never be.
You could take his top and use it as a table cloth for 8
Probably has never seen his legs or toes
Not even in photos
How in the world is it, when the army has implemented AR 600-9, that there are so many of these “special population” land whales?
It should be destruction of government property to be a fat body.
Now don’t get me wrong.
Civilians can eat all the fried ding dongs in the world,
Be so fat they engulf their couch
And need a hoist to get to the bathroom
And I wouldn’t care.
But I’m in a war environment!
People shoot at me and want me dead
And two ton teddy over there is scraping spaghetti
And stuffing dinner rolls and brownies in his pockets
It looks terrible on this, the greatest war super power in the world.
The greatest super-sized war machine this world has ever seen.
No wonder the Taliban hate us.
They are starving in there collats and caves and we have these gigantors that eat enough in a single meal to feed a war orphanage for a week.
We should sling-load these behemoths and drop them off in a collat system and let the locals masticate on some of that USDA prime beef.
And god forbid one gets shot and you have to litter carry one of these plentiful beasts to…well…anywhere would just suck!
I guess that’s why I never see them off the FOB.
Straight liability!
Straight pointless!
Straight waste!
Army strong with a chocolate cherry on top

Photo:

An Afghan family in Sabari Afghanistan Jul. 28, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

Simple are my needs ... Complex can be my deeds

2009-08-05T16:46:00.009-04:00

Simple man
By Matt Freire

I am soldier
I can run
I am soldier
My job is fun
I am soldier
Simple are my needs
I am soldier
Complex can be my deeds

I am human
I have tons of questions
I am human
Most I can never mention
I am human
Air I breathe
I am human
Simple words I speak

I is simple man
Sifting through this world
I is simple man
This weight I hurl
I is simple man
With little patience
I is simple man
With mild reverence

I am man
I have need
I am man
I can bleed
I am man
I eat a lot
I am man
But I’m not hungry

Photos:
Pfc. Rodrigo Ximeno 4th Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force (FTF), jokes with local Afghani kids in the Ghazni province of Afghanistan on 17 Jul. 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

Patience is gaining Preparedness sustained

2009-08-05T16:44:00.006-04:00

Over comm info
By Matt Freire

The familiar double bleep echoes through the fob
And I halt
Pause the music and tune in my ears
Attention on the fob
Attention on the fob
Shamrock red
Shamrock red
Another one
That’s why they call this a war zone I suspect

Pre combat checks
Pre combat inspections
Hydrated
Kit set
Mind right
Stomach slightly bloated
Wait
Patience is gaining
Preparedness sustained
Hurry up and wait

Double bleep
Double bleep
Shamrock black
Shamrock black
Must be bad
This is only the second one I’ve heard in a month

Urinate
Scratch my head
Turn the music back on
And tune in my ears

Photos:
Pfc. Rodrigo Ximeno and Pfc. Branden Hazuka from the 4th Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force (FTF), look at local farmers while they pull security on a landing zone during an air-assault mission to capture insurgents in the Ghazni province of Afghanistan on 17 Jul. 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / REVIEWED)

Words are all of ours yet they can just be mine

2009-08-05T16:42:00.006-04:00

Vulnerable
By Matt Freire

So I felt something I haven’t felt before
Vulnerable
I have felt vulnerable before but this is a different feeling
Like you can read my mind and know my thoughts type of feeling
I wish I knew the words to articulate this vulnerability
Having my writings on-line for all to see is nerve-racking for me
I write for myself
I write for release
I write for sanity
I write for fun
I write so my family can see me for my real self

Words are special
They are all of ours yet they can just be mine
I find it fascinating
And the same time frustrating
That I can write something and it can have multiple meanings
One meaning for me
And completely different meanings for others

Fascinating in the fact that I didn’t think of it that way
And yes I can see how you could get that
Or
I can’t even see how you got that from what I wrote
But ok

Frustrating because I didn’t intend for it to be construed that way
Or in that tone
But what can you do

I know that as humans we view everything in unique eyes
Eyes that have seen and experienced the world in different ways
Different horrors
Different shames
Different honors
Different laughs
And it only makes sense that I could write about anything
And it could be taken any which way
The same words could have their own unique meaning
To everyone whose eyes venture
And that is fascinating
And frustrating

I could write Soldier
And you could think mindless thrill seeking
Murderer
Even though I could have been meaning
A person who selflessly sacrifices their time
Even their lives for their country
Their family

Words are so simple and so complicated like humans
And that’s what I love about humans
We are so random
Yet so deliberate
So educated
Yet so stupid
So ignorant
Yet so experienced

That vulnerability I feel
Is human
And it makes me feel good to know I’m still human
And vulnerable

Photos:
A U.S. Army Soldier from the 4th Brigade Combat Team 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force, looks after detainees during an air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Aug. 2, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

I scrape more gunk out of my ear every night

2009-08-05T16:39:00.007-04:00

Dropping a deuce in a porta-potty, in Afghanistan on a super freaking hot day
By Matt Freire

Not much more to say
That the title didn’t explain
But this is a historic event
And a horrific event
And I feel I must write about it

Nothing is worse than getting all kitted up
And it’s freaking hot
Hot like when you open the oven to check on the casserole
You step back and give that face hot
And you suddenly have the urge

First I tried to fit in the porta-potty with my gear on
Hold the breath
Temperature jumps up 13.7 degrees
Didn’t quite work out so well
Could barely turn around
Had a hard time getting the pants down
So I took a step back out side

Tricky this is
Drop the gear
Venture back in the fecal oven
Holding breath
Bleach burning the eyes
Weapon placed in the corner
Sweat pouring off my face
And I hover

Legs shaking
Light headed getting
Veins popping out my neck and forehead
Sweat pouring
And I grunt like a cave man
And I don’t know much about exorcisms
But I have a demon inside
And it’s killing me

Teeth wrenching
The demon is coming
Plop
An acorn size nugget lands on the mound of toilet paper

That’s it
I scrape more gunk out of my ear every night
What a waste
I feel like death
And the toilet paper keeps ripping apart due to how wet I am
You could pour a bucket of water on me and you wouldn’t know the difference

One freaking nug!

no way it can be much farther

2009-08-01T15:39:00.006-04:00

lingering departure
by Matt Freire

Reflection in mud puddles
get rippled by zombie bodies
Heavy bags full of mobile war stations
Trudge along the wadi
Sun pasturing high burning off the fog
Mirage, images spatter the distance
Heat waved yetis just cart wheeled by
You’re leaking again the mental doc mutters
And I gulp down 115 degree water
You can make it the mental doc whispered
There’s no way it can be much farther
Few more clicks
clocked on the bottom of my soles
As these zombish machines continues to roll
My boots act like cooking pots
The slow roast of feet stir and scream
And I scuttle forward with the herd
My lips are like salt rocks
And my tongue is that of a cow’s
And I lick my cracked trenches
And I move and move
Dreaming of smoothies and the
California Ocean
My leakage starts to magnify
And momentary trails of salt dots
Line my just walked path
To be instantly evaporated
To instantly add to the humidity

Casually the zombies turn into heat casualties
A zombie to my right slips
MEDIC! Disrupts the silences
And the wobbling zombies make way
And the few that save lives our as gods
The I.V. drips and the teams move in position
Gun teams’ defilade
Tac sets set como with the rear and surroundings
Kiowa death birds flutter over head waiting, enticing
It’s still early, they might get the worm
Split the static comms’ interdict
Squads disperse in wedge
Formations appear in the distance
And I get my second wind
My corps becomes alive
As I visual document the synchronized assault
The pack moves in
Muscle memory takes effect
Cordon placed
The search swoops in with no resistance
Hajji tents inspected
Beds up turned
To find another miss direction
From yet another sham hajji informant

And we wait
For word on a bird or another objective
And few numbers switch on my watch
And my shadow decides he likes it on my other side
And at this point my job becomes selective
I hand out candy as afghan children grab my camera and try to steal my pen
I walk around making small talk with anyone who will listen
The medic tells me to drink water because I’m leaking profusely
I’m a soldier and the past 5 and a half years that’s all I know
But today I feel like a potato dropped in boiling oil
And my skin is blistering and cracking
At only 24 I feel really old
But I can’t figure out how to stop
So I drink water like I’m told
And I mold my melted power bar into a goat
And it entertains me as I wander around
I sit here
Stand there
Find shade as sweat pours off my face
Waiting on x-fill

Photos:
Top: A Afghan child sands next to a donkey in Sabari Afghanistan on Jul. 28, 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

Bottom: U.S. Soldiers from 2nd Battalion, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, hands an Afghan girl a bottle of water during an air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 29, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

soldiering comes with a cost

2009-07-30T21:51:00.018-04:00

non compos mentis
by Matt Freire

so i got some bad news he said
and out his mouth the horrible news was spread
confused i was
let this be a joke i mentally choked because i knew
no one jokes in this manner
and after the news spewed from the mouth of the carrier
reality silence suffocated the area
the room quiet
thoughts whirling
on my watch the second hand quivering in spot
we three just looked at each other with bewildered expressions
no words mentioned until one uttered
“at least he is not dead”

befitting this afghan night rains like it does
and i don't know what to say or to do so i go for a run
and i run so the rain can act like my tears
because they won’t flow otherwise
because that won’t honor my friend
appendage destroyed he can walk no more
and like a sick joke i run to mourn
so my feet talk for my lack of empathy
talks me around this FOB
as skies express my want
lightning guides my way
around the HESCOS and concertina wire
my mind is blank
thinking about thinking
running for stability
haze in my mind aches
but i won’t let it asphyxiate my occupation
because my line of work
my craft
my vocation
is upheld in the most crazy of situations
you have to be unhinged to run into battle
with a weapon that cannot immediately terminate your adversaries
who assail us with armor piercing rounds
and bury surprise explosions

yet cemented my notion
and i am concrete in my emotion
i am harden in my profession
because i love the thought of capturing the now
i love my job because it’s hard
and exciting
and i think of these thoughts and wonder
how i can think of this in a time like this
how can i be happy in what i do
when my friend’s leg is missing
how i can i let this not bother me
it's just something i do
it actually doesn't scare me at all
I'm actually more resilient in my resolve
i actually want to be outside the wire on a mission right now
when you’re out there everything else disappears and you just act
and that’s exciting

i miss him i do
and wish him and his family the best
i wish i could see him and reminisce about old times
wish i could be with him and hear his unique seedy laugh
but wishes are complicated
and i know it will be till I'm home that i see him
and i know there’s nothing i can do
except keep doing what i do
keep capturing and stepping
keep cognizant with a continual movement towards whatever end state
this is, and no time is, time to retreat
besides there’s no escape in my mind
it’s not even a question
more like a hypothetical contemplation

realist i am
reality is unreliable
humanist i am
humans are unpredictable
soldier i am
soldiering comes with a cost
living i am
life could at anytime be lost

not even here an entire month
bedeviled i shan't be
even though afghan 10 doesn't sound as cool
afghan 11 in my mouth will stay
and in my mind’s present he will stay

“at least he's not dead”
my feet wouldn't be able to speak all the words
“at least he's not dead”
i fear silence would never leave the room
“at least he's not dead”
my fingers would contort from carpel tunnel
“at least he's not dead”
because the afghan 10 would have to document his funeral

Photos:
Top: "The Afghan Eleven" en route to their respective assignments in Afghanistan, June 2009. The Afghan 11 are tight group of soldiers from the 55th, "Combat Camera," Fort Meade, Maryland.

From left to right: Chrisopher Alison, Jenifer Cohen, Andrew Smith, Teddy Wade, Leonardo Torres ('papa oso'), Richard Jones, Christopher Nicholas, Matthew Freire, Evan Marcy. Not in photo because they were already in Afghan getting things ready for us: Lt. Rock Stevens and Wayne Gray.

Next: Soldiers from the 4th Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division, Focus Targeting Force (FTF), search for a missing Soldier in the Ghazni province of Afghanistan on 19 Jul. 2009. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

i don’t want to limp away from this one

2009-07-28T21:40:00.019-04:00

salvo
by Matt Freire

passing time becomes an art form
smiling through is a right of passage
and here
as i sit
i masticate like a ranging cow
not caring how or what
just filling my bowels
and i recognize the flavor
the tasty powder fragrance is impotent in behavior
and so i labor on the distasteful
dust covered food
the condiment i'm used to
even in my drinks
good thing i'm a fan of heavy pulp

the barrage of flies at times is wild
horror stories
i'll save for an indecisive child
you know it's hot when you don't care if flies crawl on your face
little fly feces and vomit litter my face
you know you're thirsty when you chug hot bottles of water to hydrate
scolding coffee-hot water
when you loose some taste buds
but think life is now great
because now the color of your piss doesn't look like tang

you know you're tired when you start seeing shit
like you're dropped in a country where people want to kill you
and lop off your head
and an air raid siren starts to blare
and explosions rattle your bones
and you realize you're there
in a war zone unaware of danger
not thinking of self
accepting fate
and a smile cracks and splits my chapped lips
because i've been waiting for this
i want it
i want the pain i want the anguish
i want the luster i want the experience
i constantly wish the excitement would start
no matter where i go or what i do
i have visions
dark war filled ideations
the UH-60 is down
and i'm down to my last round
in the chamber peace can sprout
in the chamber new lives can route greater passageways
and i want to be at ground zero for this day
see these moldings come to life
see these barren trees crumble to dust
see these seedlings brought to life
i want picture in picture high definition all senses go real life
point movie experience
i want to live in my own episodes of close encounters of the combat kind
i want the most realistic reality could conjure
and rectify my questions and ignorance

standing above the sediment
diving into predicaments
ridden of barriers, where i could die
where the chance of surviving is minimal
where bullets and sweat save lives
where an instant decision would alter my course
where hesitation is death
where indecision is like mouthing the chamber and pulling the trigger
where tears only blur your vision
and cries only announces your location

the stage is set
front row VIP seats i reserved
but i will bring no date
i'm hoping i get lucky

and i, i am so close to the greatest show on earth and i'm anxious as ever
because this day seems like forever
i've been waiting
and the daybreak projectiles shrieking animation
and i'm mildly complacent in my admiration for my foe
prostrated in my cot
because its so hot yet droll outside

and when those air raid sirens cry
telling the timid to run to bunkers to hide
i exclaim at the height of my yearning
it better be on target
because i don't want to limp away from this one

Photos:

U.S. Soldiers from 2nd Battalion, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, board CH-47 Chinook to depart from an air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 28, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

U.S. Soldiers from 2nd Battalion, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Regiment,4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, run off a CH-47 Chinook during an air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 29, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

i'm not in the mood to argue

2009-07-28T21:29:00.010-04:00

scything imagery
by Matt Freire

take a picture he said, it will last longer
but a death lasts forever
no waking from the taking
life's impounding souls
and the digital camera film rolls
and the moment is captured
turning disaster into fine art
turning war into a fun adventure
looking through the lens keeps your eyes
distance seeming forever away
but forever it'll stay
but that's ok sez i
and i raise my camera to the sky and snap
as souls i snatch
so these moments can pass
to those not around to grasp
and they can react how ignorant humans react
like masses in charge
way more chiefs than Indians dealing lives
way more soldiers than politicians that die
and i'm here content in my ways
not regretting a day
i'm here serving my purpose
participating yet mindful
not wasting but growing
an imagery showing
the nuances of war
the gradation of how it is
the shades of what lies within
and it turns me on just a little
ok some even a lot
even though some is just wrong
but it enlivens me
it fulfils me
click, snap
shutter released
manipulating light how i see fit
ethically aware
even where ethics are scarce
and when the shit gets real
my camera’s still there
and i capture the moment
because he said the moment will last longer
and freely, i'm not in the mood to argue

Photos: Field medic Cpl. James Daoust from 2nd Battalion, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, provides to a Afghan boy during air assault mission to search the Khost province of Afghanistan during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 29, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED )

"they sharpen their knives on my constant mistakes"

2009-07-28T10:43:00.026-04:00

you pass the judgment as i pass the moments
by Matt Freire

you pass the judgment as i pass the moments
you pass the rationale like a cigarette
between rebellious high school deviants
all as i embrace the absurd
because I’m not able
i am Kane
i pitch a landslide of fires
just to make it rain
ashes fall on the absent night
and i chuckle as my skin is powdered
i am so close to this heaven
just outside the mysterious gate
"they sharpen their knives
on my constant mistakes" (1)

i sharpen my angle as she said
she's going down the bottle
i said i'm going down the drain she snaked
she said she wasn't big enough to carry it
she's weak
feebly pathetically discrete and quiet
she needs relief
so i convinced her in jolting whispers
i coerced her in a roundabout way
to get behind the ox
follow the morning plow
stir your whiskey with a nail
and have a stand naked
at the bottom of the cross
and tell the good lord what i did

crows prostrate on the power lines
grimacing they defecate taunts towards me
overhead the source light retreats from darkness
malice is my skimming involvement
whispers of why fade like a child’s request
assault bag is packed
seams unstitching themselves
as if they are all knowing
my car has all the gas it can stomach
as the man’s fingering the noose
satisfaction i give few
and scarcely receive
i journey in
i exit out
roads of circumstances and locations
disappear in the distance(2)

Footnotes:
(1) Modified line from "Make It Rain." Written by: Tom Waits and Kathleen Waits-Brennan
Published by: Jalma Music (ASCAP), © 2004. Official release: Real Gone, (P) & © 2004 Anti Inc.

(2) I was listening to Tom Waits' music for a day, went on a mission, wrote this poem, and then realized the Waitses' lyrics, concepts and ideas were appearing.... apologies to the Waitses. Also, thank you to the Waitses.

Photos:

Top: Local Afghani kids in the Ghazni province of Afghanistan on 17 Jul. 2009.(U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

Middle: Afghans sit out side their collats while Afghan National Army soldiers search the area during Operation Champion Sword on Jul. 28, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / )

Bottom: Afghan National Army soldier jokes with a child during Operation Champion Sword Sabari Afghanistan on Jul. 28, 2009. Operation Champion Sword is a joint operation involving Afghanistan National Security Forces and International Security Assistance Forces focused on specific militant targets and safe havens within Sabari and Terezai Districts of Khost province in eastern Afghanistan. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)

the passionate fool focuses

2009-07-22T19:27:00.027-04:00

[i wrote this right after my third air-assault in afghan. it was sweaty and dark. a 3 hour mission turned into an 18 hour mission. we ran out of water and food within the first 3 hours. it was over a hundred degrees by 1000 hours and just got hotter. it's amazing what the human body can endure. mf]

trouncing of ignorance
by Matt Freire

in the darkness the round fills the chamber
the ramp drops
a stumble rush through dust the unfamiliar
stimulates my elation
with the juggle of decisions
merchant of death or digital moment taker
not a question

the latter i'm in favor

because i'm the moment taker
focusing fluid drips as
electric synapses spark hands to react
eye catch
finger react
with a snap
souls i catch
each image is a thousand words or so
in choking sand
in undisclosed afghan
i scan the dismal
the beautiful
the unfamiliar mysterious landscape
the pressing heat
fogs my eye pro
the quiet streets wait
white balance off
the weary fatigued steals my box of f-stops
no stopping
still snapping
stills captured

kelvin temperature overwhelming
the scenario looming

boots bleeding
muscles aching
and i wait
waiting
want of imagery waning
then
the heat haze appears
and it illuminates

the passionate fool focuses

the f-stop rises
to match the shutter
speed the dial key
yet too blurred it is
i try to focus
deaf ears keep ringing
and i keep keeping
and my fingers keep framed
the sites worth seeing
so much in view
narrow down i adjust
and like that
it's over
and the bird comes
camera, death stick, and self
now baptized in
dust, sweat, and experience

Photo: (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Matthew Freire / RELEASED)