in a squiggly
hole

in a silly
wood

in a spock inventor
planet

in a spiffingly spotty
universe

there lived a
space alien

...his name was Bob
and he liked haloumi


...he liked observing
humans
serving haloumi
on a plate
with crackers
in their sooty restaurant

under the sparkly stars




...
one day he changed his name to Greg

Conversations linger in the air like water vapour,
As well looked-after manicured fingers sip multicoloured
cocktails out of silly straws,
and grip tightly on hourglass shaped glasses
lipped with sugar and lip-gloss.
Its 5:30 and the incongruous smells of barbecue
from balcony grills, and squid and
grilled haloumi and garlic from the Almond Bar behind me and
sweet gelatos and small cream cakes from the narrow shop called Messina
seem to brush every sense. The whole suburb speaks.
The walls whisper behind
me and the grey concrete slabs speak a language that I can't  interpret. Apathetic
hipsters gaze blankly at the street from the stairs of their apartment block.
What a pleasurable patchwork pastiche that pulsates through my senses.

Haloumi is a Greek
                 greeting used by
Narcissists when
                             they meet.

and to earth: i sing in the night of a body-electric:

   poised to silence and laughter
and meditation

imagining being banished:
to the realm without music:
imagining a world without
music

or who taught man of music
was he who also taught
man about engineering and fire?

i ask banished in this silence
wishing i could return
to the bed and music and thrills
of conversation
with body and you:

                somehow the distance doesn't
scar me
and the day began with just a beer
and a microdosage of marijuana
while doing the garden trimming
only three three trees to trim
but a relaxing afternoon
with mother
                       and conversation and the attic
and thinking about giving
vintage summer dresses to Edie and Reyla

how i adore the peace and quiet
in the night
in the day
but the moon of the night
how sweet was my laughter:
thinking i could be reunited
and be a body with a body
not just a body with a mind

stillness ensured
and a mosquito flew onto my sweaty
forehead:
sat there: i didn't bother to slap
this little creature into non-existence...
so i just let him sit there on my forehead
and drink the good stuff
my blood...

                after all what is a mosquito pinch
needle:
when i am prone to curl my sleeves
and shorts
and rush into nettles
rubbing my skin
then lying in bed thinking this is some ancient
medicine or modern homeopathy
but it's the latter:

thinking about ibn Saud ibn Kibsi asked me
about mosquito bites and i said
spirit vinegar rub...
            can't get spirit vinegar except in
Polish delicatessens...
but nettles are worse
and the remedy is water and soap
nothing more
but lying burnt like that with nettle venom
in my skin:
then this little mosquito just had his fill
and flew off into the night...
hard for me to **** a fly too...

so if there is a Lord of the Flies: Beelzebub Bob
then there must be a Lord of Mosquito(s)

a "Soukon": sokuon:
an author on a hill
サッカ
                       丘

  not sure about Japanese
prepositions)                           - Soukonsokuon
a contending name

   so i thought about the forbidden fruit of
cannibalism
whether that was the original "apple"
that so desperate only two people remained
and were reduced to having to eat
man's flesh: an gained knowledge of good
and evil

after all was it not a strange fruit
of wine and bread
that was given to us upon the anti-tree-of-knowledge
torture: crux...
was not another "serpent" been sacrificed?
well at least now i hear whispers
and rumors of people becoming seriously
interested in the cryptic gospels that
go beyond the canonical straitjacket of
Sunday's Intellectualism...

           a strange fruit of pressed fermented grapes
    and pressed wheat shafts pressed
to the puff of flour: dusty and his nunnery of dusties...
or at least the other talk from
dating scene:

i'm getting strange looks at work from
coworkers
and i'm not even paranoid
the day i moved up from a static team
even if it was a static team of bag searchers
and wands
the SIA
                   then it was still only a static position
but the moment i advanced to
being a TEAM LEADER
  (no longer the tedious title of SUPERVISOR
no longer printed on my back) -
      RESPONSE TEAM LEADER
just me and four guys
and i could swear i'm being experimented with
because each time i'm given a completely
different team to take care of
while others get their same staff
am i being probed to see
what span and scope of people i can actually
figure out
            enough for the sake of optics:
compliance - the seriousness of earning money
i can't believe how serious the matter
is when it comes to earning money
rather than living in a world where money
earns money:

that seems like such an inauthentic positive plateau
and no longer a authentic positive *****
something missing in terms of
whether Sisyphus would have to roll the stone
up...
or whether he were to roll the stone round
and round in a velodrome....

                                hardly able to imagine
generating money from my scribbles though...
generating money from my scribbles
would probably pain me most...

               if i didn't have a serious job on the side
perhaps money could come
in later age when i might need it
but probably not so much now
i think too much money would be a headache
that i wouldn't have the genius
anti-headache of investing interests:
to be actually interested in money
is not my "thing": although money in terms of
earnings, use, freedoms, constrictions:
that is more a case for not philosophizing
with a hammer but with a coin...
then moving onto philosophizing with
a ring...
a bit like Sauron - yes the child in me is still
referencing literature as i go along
today i read Walt Whitman high a little high
and i thought: my the simpler the language
the more fluid it becomes
and i have to give due credit to old Walt...

                                 Miss Monique: the dogs
barked in the night owning its
guardianship to ward the death critters from
entering dreams as death angrily loitered
                            while a star was giving divination
of itself
while the tree was giving divination of itself
    while man too: but slightly over-divination
leading to confusion:
    a blunder of nutrition by a deity's constipation...

and now onto preparing dinner
al fresco
and the conundrum concerning the English
and how much they bemoan the garden
should they not have one
but still they need that garden
and they have the garden
and seldom use it
having a BBQ is like some holiday event
where meat is doubly butchered
and not many vegetables are eaten
or fruits in salads
but bemoaning this need for garden
but spend so little time in it!
regardless i have yet to see a proper al fresco
culture around me come summer
where people might want to cook and eat
outside
of the stuffiness of the houses...
now overheating in the summer chaos my god
the Arctic Winds of May were a downer
but a Month when I was born...

                 maybe missing some vitamin B12?
thinking about going on a vegetarian diet
in the summer months
yesterday made haloumi with capers and walnuts
and drizzle of honey
then a simple courgette drizzled with olive oil
coarse black pepper
and some Himalayan Black Salt...
            and salads with pineapple and chilies
fresh coriander...
and my favorite:

sumac
       strawberries
cucumbers
   olive oil
honey
     balsamic vinegar
red onions...
                  banger!

yes: i think i'm going to go vegeratian
in the summer months each year
because that pork sausage tasted awfully
after all that joy of cheese and vegetables
i seriously find meat abhorrent in summer
i think as a people we could wonder
at a diet based upon seasonality:
you wouldn't eat a horse
in summer for his toil and help
you wouldn't eat a cow
in summer for its milk - regardless whether
in winter:
but once upon a time our diets were seasonal
and somehow
i'm thinking maybe an imitation: a return
to something old from Europe:
like not eating meat in summer
because it would go off quickly when slaughtered...