Skip to main content

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://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20100309/local/birdlife-urges-european-commission-to-take-action-against-malta

Image taken from: http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/42866000/jpg/_42866531_turtledove_416.jpg&imgrefurl=http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/6609247.stm&usg=__ay87BbYOBiPHTsB6Ws2Et0F7ShQ=&h=300&w=416&sz=35&hl=en&start=5&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=PlydmLPpOAcpKM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=125&prev=/images%3Fq%3Ddead%2Bbird%2Bmalta%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rlz%3D1T4ADFA_enMT361MT361%26tbs%3Disch:1

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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

Elusive, lost Love

Play this music whilst reading it… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HCvyJvqpqY&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Efacebook%2Ecom%2Fpages%2FAttard%2DMalta%2FDmaxtv%2F14281068665%3Fref%3Ds&feature=player_embedded I am happy Thrilled So full of life Yet inept And so bizarre in my fetish muse That dictates my testosterone driven vibe In this chess game In the dark… She left Killed the warmth That engulfed my abyss Setting alight Wrath so hellish …at the Maker’s standalone whims My Useless howling In the wind… Tear drenched eyes Alone, yet in a crowd of pseudo-passion Like flashes In the dark Not even a twinkling candle Just a puff of light Micro seconds Quick-and-go.. Chilled heart In gay hilarity White wine thrash Dripping Lousy mornings… How many more Yet to come? Pathetic pretentious Scribbles of mine… Ray de Bono Monday, July 20, 2009