Malta III

Lessons from an Urban Desert in the Middle of Our Sea

I

Do not fall for the Bastion.

the only time the walls were put to use
was when Napoleonic troops turned them
against a rising people

II

Surrealism surrounds you.

and magical realism too

III

Columns hold the Sky.

and buildings try 

IV

The Street observes.

in calm domestication







V

Sun sets with a Bang of Colors.

shower in light

VI

There lies a windy desert in Our Middle Sea.

tourists flock and seekers flee























VII

Some views and oddities - between Valletta and Mdina

I continue today without those many words

Here come the colours of another two days

without that stormy wind

of beginnings

but sunny set

and with some specialties right out of the streets
- from Valletta to Mdina -

the plazas

the walls

the fields

and statues

all sport their shiny ways
just like the knight's golden cathedral

Full of gold and full of lime stone
tone in tone
set to stay
but hey
here they come
the oddities!

from broken crosses



to broken crashed ads

to hanged cctvs

and destroyed faces

the list goes on to question sender and receiver

 but also if the good appearance is a deceiver
and if only the shadow still shows the plight
of that transfer on one of these nights
on a rocky boat on Our Middle Sea
were they paid for the passage
into slavery

but hey
I did not ask
and am probably wrong

they walk fast and trod strong
into another night

gone

The Storm brings me back to easy life - ghosts howl around the walls of Valletta

Time for an EXIT right out of the beginning of a winter's tale

into
the fully grown wind of an island in the middle

an island in the cross
ways
of
desires
trades
and
swords

in Our Sea of carcasses and broken dreams

were the walls still tell of old feuds and riches and might and fears

restored with the help of our communion
Some seems to be recurrent
on repeat
instead of hold rewind and cumagain
The same waves as always during autumn and strong volleys of wind blow ashore

and a full moon plays hide and seek, light and dark, now you see me now you don't

on top of an exagerated yet humble human-made lightshow

were strange vessels

compete with each other and a bicicle that noone can ride but art

And even though it might be cold and windy for the Maltese

it feels like an exit into freedom for some
who come
from the North from the main from that land behind the mountains who are white already
as well as for some
who come
from the North from the island of motherly colonisation
But they are few right now
and they fall with night
the wind sweeps the streets
leaving few
enclosing many

-

So let those ghosts howl
at the walls of their unaccepted ends
and may they find their way into a better light
with the full moon
a spoon of liquor
and a grain of salt
like an incantation on an old horn
like a prayer on a broken lip

Valletta 18.11.13