merchants

the eastern gate is open for you now,

go through my friend.

storm in when its so wide open,

glistening gold and hope and adventure,

welcoming your slender steps with invisible claps.

other merchants come and go,you saw,

carrying long tales and silk fabrics of lust,

holding their fortune with grace that wont enchant my heart.

its only your goods I’m after,

your modest possessions wrapped in blue cotton.

spread them in front of my eyes, shining assets

when lifting the lock of your treasure trunk,

so I can indulge my wishful thinking

one more time.

sick

I have all the right symptoms to flirting with swine flu,

coughing alef bet on my way to a land that  officially keeps kosher

I  have all the right symptoms of  being hopelessly inlove,

spitting affectionate words on a man who is empty of emotions.

I have all the right symptoms of getting  older,

snoring charts  melodies on my way to altneuland.

I have all the  right symptoms to be shamelessly wishful

shouting  my hopes to a  man who lives in a different chapter.

מחשבות שוקולד , הבל רוזמרין

ערסל  של  תקוות, כסא מתנדנד ישן,

ריח עור מלוח, פיסת שיער  דביקה,

טיפה מלוחה  על לשוני בושם תבלין של אם,

הולכת   הביתה.

רגל  יחפה על מרפסת, אמת עירומה נשקפת

ריח מתוק של פרי תאווה, חיוכים  עבריים מעקצצים

נהימת אוטובוס, צהוב מנצנץ מבין פסי מעבר חצייה,

רדיו מקווה לשינוי, כמה רבים אליך הגעגועים ?

הולכת  הביתה

home

Chocolate  thoughts and Rosmarin Breath,

cradle of hopes, swinging old chair.

smell of  warm skin, sweaty piece of hair,

salty drop on my tongue, mothers spicy perfume,

I’m going home.

a bare foot on the porch, naked truth from the mirror

sweet scent of passion-fruit, tingling Hebrew smiles,

rattle of a bus,  yellow glistening on the crossroad

radio hoping for change, how much I miss you?

I’m going home.


random

I just realized this morning that I  only really truly was inlove  with people I met randomly. weather in a family occasion or bumping into in a  chaotic lecture, online or in the grocery store. randomly I  fell inlove with  myself as well one morning  when I met my thoughts in a  book (randomly picked in an airport  store around 10 years ago of a  woman who reflected me  love  and talent writing about women , spices and Life.  I felt that  those  words written with such talent ,  not only encourage  me to  write my own but  that smelling the stories  I am feeling the power to go through these life with my hard choices too. I read many  books before, some shaped my opinions, some planted  great ideas in my head. but I think this book was the  first one to bond my  fears with my hopes and thus really like the person who stands there in the mirror. I wish to meet Chitra banergee divakaruni one day to say thank you. I think as a gesture of  gratitude Ill hand her  a bi g box  of  chocolate from my  favorite shop next to   my  mother spice cookies wrapped  together in a big wooden box I  saw in a street market in  Greenwich

http://www.sawnet.org/books/reviews.php?The+Mistress+of+Spices

mistress of letters

The audience asked and so Im  taking a turn from my oh so  depressing and personal encounters to the warm embrace  of a normal blogging

what is normal blogging ?

writing my opinions on current affairs my affairs and witty and spicy articles one is bumping into while surfing the net

can I  do it in  English ? interesting and amusing  enough to hold  an  audience of readers ? . that would be a  challenge  as my small audience, already tired of my impossible love  life, surly deserves  more. doing blogging in Hebrew for  quite a while I  know that it  takes time,  developing  unique  style and putting  the statements in short witty and heart warming words is something that develops gradually.  if Ill be patient it will happen faster. its  this impossible thing with patience, teaching you a great lesson once you’re brave enough to accept it as a teacher.

my  fears?  that I wont be able to bring that  emotion  again that I can only bring in my own mother  tongue. managed to do it in  the short secrets I shared with you so  far.  not  so sure I can do that yet with those English demanding rules. but I dare . myself  and  you to read me  with comfort and to realize.  English language can still learn a few new curves these days that most of  London is less and less British, and the language I hear in the street is not  always the English I hear in  your living room on that deep leather sofa.

don’t get me wrong I adore that English. but my writing always came from other places. from my ears, from the stories I hear and  see in tube encounters. I admit, my writing comes from the people, as If I had been crowned by the crowed to be their queen of prose.

well I am more likely be the mistress  of letters until Ill get the ok to be more. most of my writing comes from my heart, impatient , un censored and fluently written as my hand clicks the digits of the keyboard.  (mostly  I end up writing completely different things than those I planed in the first place)

but what am i saying  really? where is the blogging part of  the opinions or things I have to  say something about? here! today I had a few issues to deal with. issue pronounced with sh and  not ss sound like the Americans and not like u English  people. I do  have  a problem  with that so lets make it my first opinion.

accents. I  have a problem with it. OK not  a problem, I  have something to say about it. I mostly  like to hear  foreign people talk English as they seem  to look at the word and make it  their own. they read it as it spelled(make sense) they forget about the  laws of English, and they create a charming new language that is a lot more authentic for  my everyday reality than that English of Cambridge  professors. Yes I know one who may read me that comes from that particular institute feels a bit uncomfortable with  me right now , ready to  answer   back if I  even deserve  an  answer and wonder  why on earth I  had to choose this issue  to  be  the first one to be dealt with.  and  so  relax, I  don say I don’t  like to hear you talking.  I  am  actually delighted every  time you open  your mouth  and softly the  words are  sailing from your throat to this enchanting place you and a few more belong  to. in between old  break  houses scattered in wide fields  with old walls and even  older trees.  that  English of yours  makes me wish to be born to a woman with a milky skin who while breastfeeding  me reads Shakespeare and watch  Stephen fry.

but here in London most people are not  you. they had  been fed by a very similar  milk  but  listen to different tunes, to exotic writers or the local Mohazin . some heard the rumbling wheels of rikcha and its  drivers steps, shouting to the crowed to  clear  him a path while driving in an old market  mew. some  were born in a European big  metropolis who pronouns the s like z and the w  like  v and the  d like t and even when reading Austen and Bronte.

and I like that . I like  that impossible  mumble  of accents when I  walk in  London. its more real to me and evident obviously as its where I live. to  your Cambridge I  can escape when invited or when you kindly read  me  your stories expecting  nothing  but  my  sweet admiration.

and  so  what about the Americans.  ok I  do not  like their accent ,  that’s  just their  way to annoy the  world  for  being  so  negative about them .  Ill have  to  write here one day about the American  lady who set  with me in a  tram in Rome talking  about 200 kinds of gelato , a trip that by  the end of it  i hated Americans  and Gelato. finally I  like Russians  talking Hebrew, I like  Germans talking  french and Italians  talking  English. that I have here in London more than anywhere  else. Ill miss  that one day

and any other issues of  today’s current affairs  for instance. ok  I  don’t  know how  to  respond to  the fact  that  rabbis in America had  been found  suspect of selling organs. I read those who suspect  yet  another blood plot is being planned  by  the obviously antisemitic Obama.  to  that nonsense I do  not  even want to reply, as ignorance makes me bad writer in  every language.

so the news that Ill pick randomly from the headlines of  eonline. my favorite news  as  the world is harsh an d I  like to escape  there .

http://uk.eonline.com/uberblog/b135782_fans_look_bruumlno_in_austria_hes_in.html

Yes i  had  seen the film. laughed at   the right places, scratched  myself at the wrong places and mostly  wondered  about the length of  Brunos….legs.

and I  have a few things to say about him

1. yes of course Im proud  he is one  of us, the  Jewish community.  he  got tickets to  his Israeli relatives on the premier  in Tel Aviv

2. hes a great actor,  combining   slapstick, drama  and dirty thoughts.

3. austria  never was so attractive since  the  jolly days of Cafe  Zacher

4. the scene of the mili vanili seance encouraged me  while thinking  of the next world and death.

5. finally someone says all the wrong  but  right things about the Hollywood royalty and so  deserves an oscar himself or  at list  a  square on that  famous boardwalk

6. Im  really curious about his next alter ego  and  maybe  I can  offer him to play a  woman?

7.  it  took  god to  create  the world in 7 days ? I  wonder what Bruno had to say about that and  everythign else he would like to  say about  god and  religion

as  I have  to rush to  the synagogue of Rabbi  Hulbert I think  it  is time to end these  kind thoughts and  go Iron my shabbat words for his liberal  congregation.

Shabbat  Shalom

even not

Even not Eve could Even

your emotions

they are too stubborn to find true love.

rather

I think I am not going to be at your service this year. I never really liked it and I know you are by now if smelling our intentions sneeze with disapproval.

Yes, I say it for the last 3 years every time August arrives and your birth date and death date become to close to avoid the service thoughts. thoughts I rather keep in a very deep drawer covered with all my moaning words to you for the past 7 years.

but this year I feel braver, healthier , ready to close the last stitch over the wound that doesn’t bubble any more . its not complet yet , that descion,  I may go at the last minute because it still scratches there. but if I wont go I know you’ll be the first to congratulate me .

anyway I rather sip some wine in Pallazuolo or Paris with a european smoky breeze that carries your name every lingering fall.

red

Ive had a glass of red wine in the middle of the day at the parade place down the road

the house wine. it was young and fun and promising

at night when we drink it slowly through conversation, the fumes of alcohol are spread enough so I am not telling you all my thoughts

now , after a nice lunch I just feel that my eyes are dropping , my heart is floating and Im craving for your hand.

the eyes to follow.

to learn your lips finally.

I like red wine.

Adam And Eve

we  stood there next to the apple tree. your mother said  it has very small and  hard apples.  stubborn like  you, but good for cooking. its thin body was torn  from the muddy land  of Neuss. too many days of rain turned the earth intolerant to its own children. you offered to fix it. I  wanted to  help, a proper gesture I can give you  for this visit is to try to heal this tree. I suggested to try digging the land and build new crutches to its fainting body. you  denied my offer while we  picked him from the ground, arms  tangled. you said you  want to tie him  from its upper part  to  the  close fence , so  the new roots will  grow and make a stronger natural hold again. I thought it  was  strange to  grow backwards. but I  accepted, there is some  logic in helping him to help itself  and=2 0anyway you’re  the engineer of  this family, after many  generation of doctors and healers. your mother  joined us while both of  us  holding the  tree ,she  grasped  its  heavy brunches  full  of  those small hard  apples who didn’t trust our grip. with her strong arms  and wise eyes she said in German she hope it will hold  the next flood. I saw her eyes while looking at  you, her elder son,  proud and handsome like his father. you took metal wires  to lift its arms back into  the air, drilling  holes in the fence and making a strong  metal knot to hold many  winters. ( i thought  it  will be better than a  wet string). you smiled at  me when it stood back all proud and tall next to your lean figure of his savior, both women  looking at you with adoring eyes.

your mother promissed  to  take  care of  his legs  too when the  sun will come out. youre eyes were  deeper  than the sky when I picked a  rotten apple to throw from our healing friend. I just   need to wipe my hands from the muddy dirt and hug you both while the lost sun of Neuss went out of the clouds again

accurate

you  are the second most talented man I have ever met in my  life.

but I was biased  with the first one so I may  be wrong

act

an act of love.

last grasp of a hand

before the shake of the heart

and the twich of a lash

dropping a tear on my naked skin

the summer  brought us  the greatest love of  all

leaning on the  window shield of a slowly moving  train

the woman with black straight hair lifted  her  swede  bag

to the compartment  above her silky  head.

dropping little drops of  sweat  I noticed her  lust

wishing  her to tell me her secrets and which  shampoo shes using.

the man sitting  behind me chatted nonchalantly with an American  dude,

his accent couldn’t  keep me  away fro m stereotype,  judging and  non patience,

but  their conversation eased  my harsh thoughts, my ears lurked to  those  words  of love.

they discussed a woman

a young lady whos had a  glass of  wine  next to the American

dude and his  wife i n a small cafe in monparnass.

the  fumes of french rouge vin  and  provance  perfume

mixed  the  story to a delicious evening

bringing a comforting  together to strangers

in a lonely metropolitan.

after a  short conversation about  weather,

an amazing  weekend of sun and hope,

they  became like  friends who  knew  each other for many years

and they the American couple will buy a house from the french lady

as not only shes charming

but also  deals  with real estate.

I wondered how real it is  that complete strangers  become such

good  friends ?

but  than again. I  had fallen in love  with you  again

in the depth  of the same heat,

and  a glass of red  wine.