CarL's Ink Flame

  A country A yours country A mine country A country where human rights is trampled upon and subject to the cruelty and brutality of the law! Same law made to protect and serve justice to the just and frown at the unjust? A country A yours country A mine country A country basked with terrorists and bandits dancing in harmonious tunes to the orange-red sky heat-beats of bomb blasts and sorrows of lost souls - both of the dead and the living-dead Yet side by side they assemble  with slices of national cakes in dinner with law makers! A royal treatment to the unsung warriors  and heroes of the elites Who are we? DUSTS!! A country A yours country A mine country A country sunken in liquid swells of oil, abundant green of agric - cultures and yes, innovo-creative minds and talents of beautiful youths Yet, drips of tasteful saltiness to the tongue as they sober in lack of jobs Who am I? Who are you? Who brought you? Who do you know? What is your name? What is your father's nam

Coexistence, a habitual living than leaving, a lifestyle of many living in unity spatially, temporarily, permanently, with or without mutual interactions. ... ... ... Now, sometimes, I sit in aloof wonder why nations born of many races with traces, colours with beauties, tribes and cultures, dignities and unique characters, bear teary eyes and laden hearts at sleepy eves and asleep at break of dawn for sakes of malicious ambiguities and exaggerations caused by none other than self notion inflictions because we decided and chose the path of outward judgement than of inward character view. A downward sloped perception, a judgement which eventually defined what we became than who we truly are. Again in wandering wonders I sort to understand, why hearts weary in shivers under the heats of cold unseen clear wars, hurts, burning red hot even in the most temperate regions of the world. Burns of cold heats born of decisive human complexities than God's design of humanity. Lo, the Holy book

Deep in the eve's eye, lie ties of my Eve's eyes, a soul's language where my beloveth, betrothed, bask in dusky gladness caressed by soft smooches of twinkling twilights. Her, my Eve, in dwells of unending dusky eves a bond together with ten unequal but firm in grips... ...our fingers finding soft ways to detail sprinkles of our heart's piercing tales foretold in the orange-brown dark eves, a world spoken within her iris. My Eve's eye speaking in dusks of eves! ... ... ... ... ... Alas, in the soothing dusk of the eve and in detailed attention, I listened to the words of her eyes Saying: If only! "If only was not lonely... If only was never lonely... If only is never lonely... If only is never alone. But then, only is always lonely  and has always been alone  If only we are never alone  We would have made our decisions born of the day than of setting sleepy dusks" ... ... ... ... ... Alas, I hear her eyes say: If only: "If only time was mine to hold I