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    The bombshell lies on my bed
    Smiles and leans back her head
    I go down cautiously
    Tonight I am playing with fire
    Using my tongue tenderly
    To tickle the red wire.

    I will die in this little room
    If this bombshell goes boom.

    They killed a hundred and thirty in Paris
    With guns and devices just like this
    They arranged the bodies in lines
    Their pictures in the New York Times.
    I should have switched off the television before we started to kiss
    It is difficult; making love in these terrorist times.

    Love in a Time of ISIL via @theMagunga

    Writer and Film-maker who intends to improve the quality of local Film/TV content & find new ways of generating & maintaining earnings in local Film/TV biz.

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    lJane C

    One word, awesome!

    Abigail Arunga

    Hehe. 🙂 And also *sigh*. Bombs tend to go off in both situations…

    Emmanuel Taracha

    In the thicket, a soldier dies

    By Emmanuel Taracha

    In the copse
    Lie many corpses
    Too many dead soldiers
    The enemy killed them like walkers.

    Like a knight
    He came in the dead of the night
    The lifeless bodies smolder
    A bullet is lodged in his shoulder.

    He lies in the fescue
    Who will come to his rescue?
    From this miscue
    He remembers the last barbecue.

    The smile of his daughter
    Happy family filled the air with laughter
    His people he so much misses
    The children and the missus.

    His mind wanders
    And he wonders
    Who will take care of his family?
    And give his children a homily.

    Today is his wedding anniversary
    But he is held captive by the adversary
    Is the war necessary?
    He prays the rosary.

    In this land far away
    If his life be taken away
    Will the angels carry him away?
    And God wash his sins away

    He feels like a sawyer
    He whispers a prayer
    He is no destroyer
    His work pleases his employer.

    He has survived many enemy clashes
    The National flag comes in flashes
    Black, White-edged Red, and Green
    Two crossed White spears, behind a Red, White, and Black shield

    He needs that shield
    But what will the war yield
    He knows they will not yield
    And flee from the battlefield

    He longs for an armory
    Full of artillery
    To revenge his fallen infantry
    With shots so fiery

    All this atrocity
    Who is in authority?
    He fights for the majority
    Surrender is no priority
    To his head thoughts flood
    To the last drop of his blood
    He will fight for his country
    As his fight will help annihilate the adversary

    Commander said not yet time to get out
    Today he lies in the bush bleeding out
    He remembers the day of the pass out
    His patriotism, the enemy bullet will not knock out

    He is exhausted
    His strength has been tested
    He hopes he will be appreciated
    And the enemy annihilated

    His body slowly gives up
    As he tries to look up
    Hi eyes feel heavy

    The world begins to disappear
    Under his closing lids he cant see clear
    Suddenly everything looks unfocused

    And then its black

    http://www.heremyinkdrops.wordpress.com

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