My hot & sour lunch soup disappearing at fast slurps
I glean some erudition from two books.
One written in German about Syrian antique jewelry
the other spoke of Allah in Farsi, an alien language
I know only superficially though I am familiar with
important three & four-letter words like
Tbri ana ee huik nta in Shleuh Berber dialect
which in French means what the English learned
when traveling abroad to ask a lady of the night.
Well, I'm fibbing because metaphysically I know
next to nothing about it except what Zoroastrians
and Sufis shared with us in books of learning.
The former spelled it in mystic jargon and the latter
waltzed me with spinning knowledge and since it's hard
to listen while you and the speaker are whirling
given and such information reaches you blip-blipping
like on a skipping unformatted disk recording-din-ding.
Such reading caused me to spill a bit of soy sauce
in my Styrofoam dish therefore accidentally
if not synchronistically creating a happy face.
Undaunted by signs from the above by the Almighty
I tilted the dish thus forming new pools of sauce
but this time I made the faces decidedly skeptic.
Yet what I resented most during the process was that I felt
like an antique shmuck when it came to the 72 virgins
and by the time I read Allah's one third of His 99 names
the ciphers went through my ears as if I had no head.
Mind you it was not the matter of their meaning.
It was the darn curlicued calligraphy that went far beyond
the subject and I suspect hashish had something to do
with it when Eureka! I understood, in Hellenic at that,
that He meant it to be since He also spoke Greek
About the author:
Conceived in Ukraine, Alex Nodopaka first exhibited in Russia. Finger-painted in Austria. Studied tongue-in-cheek at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, Casablanca, Morocco. Now he doodles & writes with crayons on human hides. Full time artist, art instructor, judge, and critic he also pretends writing.
© 2011 Word Riot