Skip to main content

Wanted: Dmax Team News Contributors


Are you a creative writer? Would you like to share your ideas? Want to start writing on this blog?

If interested confirm your interest via e-mail ceo@dmax.tv

The Dmax Team
www.dmax.tv

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why the trees disappeared from Sacred Island of Malta...

Yes, folks. Malta was full of trees. It is reported in history books by many travelers that heralded to our shores, some willingly, like Al Himyari (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harbi_al-Himyari), others accidentally, like St. Paul, the bearded chap in robes, you remember him? They all reported on how green the island was, covered with woods, and inhabited by a relentless humanoid species, which our patron saint aptly referred to as Barbarians (grazzi ta Sur San Pawl, ey!).

In the year 6,250BC, in Bir Lonzu, limits of where today we have Bubaqra, at the time when there was a temple construction boom (yes, it started much earlier...), Dudu and Duda, with their little boy Dudinu, started cutting trees, more and more...

Until there were NONE left... or almost...

Dudinu grew and formed the Malta Logging Company, that boomed for some time but went in liquidation, centuries later as the last Balluta tree fell over Sciberras Hill, in circa 1530AD. And do you want to know the latest? Why was the…

Moody Days

I Wonder

When it is my turn to die,
Will I ponder on my days afar?
Will I yearn for your arms and cry?

When it is my turn to die,
Will I despair in a lonely chill?
Will I hold your hands in mine?

When it is my turn to die,
Will I close my eyes and sigh?
Will lost loved ones linger on the other side?

Ray de Bono
18.07.07

Another mask, anyone?

POEM Our precious soil,betrays our innocence

How many more
Must perish
Souring over our barren land?
Undeserving of so precious
Blood
We are!
Of so graceful
Creatures

...they adorn our skies
and cry their last desperate
sorrows
for the bigotry of its inhabitants
and their bizarre gods
of gore and limestone
and euro
orgies
of smoky, petrified
incense
as they kneel in front
of HE
whom they claim
to adore.

How many more
Must perish
Souring over our barren land?

As the exchequer squambles over another excuse
With his peers
He jokes over how great he is
In his infinite wisdom
And his children look for
A morrow where feathers are
Nothing but Exhibits in classroom books
Hailing from days gone by...

And deep within each soil granule
So miniscule, insignificant
Lies the blood of them...

The souring angels,
Up above...



Ray de Bono
9th March 2010
He/she who wants to understand, let him/her understand... ..................................................................
Written upon reading: http://w…