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Hey Guys and Dolls!

I thank all my readers, amongst them Uwe (from Germany), Keith, Josette(Gozo), Staphania, Anton, Daniela, Raymond, Fr. Ray, Katya, and the many anonymous others that occasionally drop me a comment on my blog here and there.

It's a weird period we are living through right now. Not bad, just a bit strange: Burning cars, disastrous euro concert results, barren political scenarios, lack of national role models, false anti-Da Vinci Code crusades, the absence of a real night life scenario...Well, the list is longer, but it's Sunday and I do not wish to bore you any further.

I came across this poem, written a year ago - that I felt like sharing with you. What is a poem worth if retained hidden saved as binary code (Bill Gate’s word doc)? Worst still, It was not even on 'my' pc, but saved on that of my brother's! Enjoy!



keBo said…
Hmm nice poem Ray. This is the first time I'm reading your blog after it was referred to me by another blogger.

Agree fully with you that this is really a weird period in which we're living in. Gone are the 60s and 70s!

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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

Another mask, anyone?

POEM Our precious soil,betrays our innocence

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

...they adorn our skies
and cry their last desperate
for the bigotry of its inhabitants
and their bizarre gods
of gore and limestone
and euro
of smoky, petrified
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…