This editorial, written from Canada as it seems the only time I have additionally made, has been touched by my recent developments in Spain where, after all these years I finally got an investor to buy me new beekeeping equipment including hives and colonies. They are thriving at the moment and my learning curve has rocketed. It is the most exciting thing I have learnt since building the engine in my Austin Allegro. Just sitting there and seeing how each queen colony, each day during different times of the year and different weather patterns, is a way of engaging a collective intelligence that must have fascinated man since the first civilisations were born. As a technology man has sought to harness this foodstuff. But it is never plain sailing and man's very intervention may account for changed behaviour patterns that require us to undo the way we meddle with nature. Look at the end of this article and you will see a bee poem that most obviously reflects close natural sexual contact I was having at the time. It should be an enjoyable read. Keep looking at this space for news about current affairs within SLP, and especially how it concerns other groups, in particular our members.
Likewise a lot of this learning has got into my journals which is steadiliy progressing into double-figures, the last of which was nearly 140 pages long. The newsletters too have reached into the the 20's and this reflects huge amounts of writing. Also my music has been flowering, as I know the years are catching up and I won't always have this voice. You can find these on my Youtube and Facebook pages.
It seems also I am coming back into the London scene as I get involved with permaculture groups invited to the London Permaculture Festival and also Pullens Festival, the both of which you can find the links to on my Diary of Events page. Without ado then, enjoy this love poem.
Love Twist Blees
'My heart bleeds honey for you, my queen
Only your sweetness can stir me to flight
If I get lost in the windy crossing, I know I would hear your voice a calling me to return'
'Where art thee my king, for I have a cell cosy and warm to share with you
Don't tarry for winter is upon us. And I need your bodily drool'
'And as the mountain air began to condense into droplets of dewy pools, so I gathered my strength to run down the slope with visions of my paramour on the wing
It was a race to get there in pursuit of her pheromonic chant as it drifted on the air in puffs of amorous joy
But with her tail up she was inundated by numerous petitioners, all festering after her natural beauty
Would I get there in time before she would subtly refuse my renewed advances? How must I keep her waiting and wanting?'
'The crossing was windy as I traversed the green fields of Gaul
Every hill and hollow gave up its secrets as I dashed between them
Tossed like a tree whose branches gallantly spring back in defiance of the head wind
I knew fate was far from easing my abdominal pride
Could I really leave the sun-washed rosemary behind for the damp winter chill of Albion?
Where only ivy could suffice my insatiable lust for sweet nectar in winter?
Oh, how I wish she would hide in its evergreen armour if only to peer out waiting for my frolicking dive
Straight to her bush when I would then take shelter in her moistened embracing hive
Squeezing me in the dark cover of skimpy leaves and crystalline flowers
Surely I would be the first if nature truly desired me a wet feast'
'Why do you tarry?' I hear her lusty tone deliver
'For Albion is cold and I need a bed mate to snuggle up to
Surprise me with your roughened travel-worn hands and seize me in the quiet of the night
Make me wet in your firm grip with your hot breath around my neck
Only my future king could survive these freezing, yearning nights and arrive at my doorstep bedraggled and steaming
I will peel your soaked clothes and dry your moisture with endearing kisses as to see you naked before me
You will not escape my clutch for I will suck you in so tight as to drink every drop you issue
And then in my utter exhaustion I will awake in fields of rosemary and olive carried on the Sun's eternal rays'
The days grew short and the nights bitter as snow crept into my numbing limbs
My blood stirred only by the thought of my regal vision piercing the air like a tramway cleaving the skies
There I would be carried on the lulling tones of her sweet voice like puffs of clouds dampening the racing wind over my ears
So sweet is her voice that even they dance like candy floss in a sumptuous whirl
I follow her siren as a breath of air is sucked into her lungs
Drawing me ever closer until I latch onto her moistened demanding lips'
'Erect, in an inescapable corner of damp greenery
I held her firm as she grappled there spread-eagled with her pert bum clamped in embrace
Heaving until even the leaves gave up a hoarse cry of elation
I could feel her sucking me in ever deeper as she tightened her loins
Like a lamb smothered in the raw heat of a sacrificial offering
I merely extended myself from the Apollonian rays of the sun
Like lions powering the chariots of the eternal gods
She demanded more the pulsing throbs that lifted her skin in sweating pimples
Baked and battered I blasted her one more time until her breast gave up her sugary teet
Hardened like a cooked apple waiting for its custard cream'
'We danced in figures of eight, a whisper's breath between us
Carrying the vibrant tones of her piercing voice as it lifted us in ceremonial circles
The orgasmic cry of our unisonic rise as we spun and hummed ever faster on the blanketing air
Taking each other on a lost crusade to lands of multifarious flowers
Unable to release each other my queen drifted love-like sweating melodic notes through my ears
It seemed an eternity that, bedazzled and saturated by her hot abdomen, I would not desire to let go
For as a king who lives for this day we were utterly infused in each otherís sweat running like rivers through every crevice of our body
It was an eternity, all day and night without ceasing as we buzzed in joyous reproach of our cultural assailants who could not even dare pull us apart
And yet set upon by our admirers queuing to surround us in a perpetuating mass protecting and waiting for the new-born
I could only drive harder as we whined and ground until we were red in tooth and claw tearing at each other's form'
Keep looking at this space for news about current affairs within SLP, and especially how it concerns other groups, in particular our members.