RARA report

Twenty years living in Australia and still Yossy has remained a genuine Sabra. His way of dress, Hebrew and hand expressions demonstrate it. Of late, life has been an unfortunate struggle for yossy. After much suffering, his wife of twenty years succumbed to cancer and his business has now shut down. "You boys could not have come at a better time" Yossy told us as we sat over coffee in our traveling Mitzva mobile. "Such divine providence that we meet in a time when I am so depressed and down, G-d must be showing me that things will be looking up from now."


We took the opportunity to done Teffilin with him. As tears slowly rolled down his Cheeks, Yossy said the prayer and then a few silent words to his deceased wife. We gave Yossy a chanuka Menora and made an early moring L'chaim, giving Yossy lots of Brochos and encoureging words. Yossy then accepted a resolution to put on his Teffilin once a week.



As we said our good byes I could already see changes. When we first sat down he was a man who had hit rock bottom. Now he looked confident and encouraged. Shows what a listening ear can do. But more importantly, we realized it was Yossy who taught us. We learnt the importance of trust and belief in G-D not only in the good times, but also in times of despair.

It is moments like these that make living in trailer home for over a month well worth it.

Bullied.

Israel reached.
The Arabs breached.

How pathetic.
How sad.
How unsurprising.

Rural Australia.

Brooklyn's Oasis

I came up aside, turned off my ipod and said
“we are a dying breed.”
“What, Jews?” she somberly asked
“No, roller bladers” I replied.

(What a waste of private time with C.C.R.)

Pepsi Sziget Summer 06

In loving memory of the Bongo.
Wherever you may roam……



Ingredients to a successful Zsido Sator:
Vodka red bull.
A glass (or two) of Dreher.
A shot (or two) of Palinka.

Rally call.

If only this Shofar could talk,
Sold out crowds and Bustling streets.

If only this Shofar could smell,
Beer breath and Coastal air.

If only this Shofar could dance,
Hippie spin and Chassidic bounce.

If only this Shofar could reminisce,
Beatniks and Revelution.

Now in off season, this Shofar looks so small.
But so is the world.

This Shofar’s voice will never dwindle.
He yearns too strongly for Jerusalem.

Berserkly!

To Quote Reb Moish, the Cliftoner Rebbe.
"What a cooked city"

Time.

What was, makes us want to forget yesterday.
What is, makes us miss what was.
What will be, nobody can tell.

Important things in life

“Gut Yom Tov Zelda. Tell me, how is your brother in Israel doing?”
“Oy, why do you ask? My brother passed away four years ago.”
“I am so sorry to hear that”
“Yes, he was very sick. But I will tell you one thing. He did leave two of the most beautiful dentists chairs.”
“And children?!?!”
“Oh, children he also had, two boys. But they are married now."

Mistakes too many

I am not convinced for I will always be fenced in with awkwardness. However, I do feel the strangle hold has been loosened and the chains broken.
Though I did not succeed in soberly apologizing and the opportunity might still come.
But fortunately time, love and maturing helps the hurting heal.

If only he knew how ashamed and regretful I am. If only he knew how I wish to go back in time and rectify a childish mistake; trusting the non trust worthy.
There was no malicious intent. In fact, there was no intent at all. Just a trap set in useless conversation.

So tonight, by feelings of sweat, dancing and hugs the noose has been untied.
By visions of drinking, blessings and reaching a mile stone, I feel forgiveness has been granted.

3 years.

A naïve conqueror of you valley’s and your hills.

A curious child yearning to learn the secrets of your past.

A holiday greeting for your vulnerable yet fearless settler. For your cynical yet defiant soldier.

A Free spirit living in the enemy’s reach.

A believer that you will be there for me in my time of need.

*

Humor in the comfort of blood stained walls.

Mysticism in a hateful, close minded society.

Joy in the presence of a million humbled corpses.

Dancing to the tune of faith, body to body with naked souls.

Love to brothers and sisters I shall never forget.

*

A mentor through the hardships of accepting religion.

A rock amidst an ocean of instability.

A big brother to the adopted awkward foreigner.

A teacher who brings back the voices of mothers and fathers.

A diligent student Shaded by beauty, crime, carelessness and fear.

My S.F.

Haight Ashbury.

Golden Gate Park.

Gan Eden or what?

Jerry's Kosher Deli.

Nancy is on acid. Tonight she possibly dined on “shrooms”.
For ten years now nobody has asked her to leave.
Yet sadly, nobody ever accepts her invite to dance.

In a universe all alone she waves and she spins. But her act is outdated
Even her dog seems tired and indifferent.

THOMAS is quick with a smile, or a good word.
Why not? The tips are more generous and it’s easier to bum a smoke.

Still, I am sure there is another place Thomas would rather be.
Lounging by his television set, or in his woman’s arms seems like good bets.

WILLIE could have been another Bob Dylan.
But there were so many before him and “The times they are changin”
With his art and his words of wisdom Willie rules the patio.

Out of the kindness of the heart
All give Willie a drag. All give Willie a gulp.


JAKE looks more professor than musician.
But that does not stop him from playing the tunes and moving the crowd.

True his glasses keep sliding down his nose
And between each song he drinks yet another beer.
But the city has taught Jake - it’s all about the music and not the flare.

RACHEL plays hard to get, night in and night out.
Still, the guys all fight for attention.

In any other joint she would be indiscernible.
But here, with her choice of red wine, healthy diet, school degree and opinion on the world
Even the band is dedicating songs to her.

ME, I am noticed, but tonight all of mankind is one.
I interact and I learn.
But I know, within the haze, my farewell is everlasting.

G.G.P.

I walked the green mile
In search for the prize.
I walked the green mile
My colors disguised.

The jogger ran by,
A millionaire with speed.
The homeless rolled through,
Empty bottles in need.

The Innocent children
Flew their kites so high.
The rebellious teenager lay tired
unafraid to die.

He mumbled he jumbled,
But for his wisdom I did not come.
He was paranoid and indecisive,
After his soccer ball he did run.

I turned my back,
Heading home.
I smiled to the moment,
This time I wasn’t alone.

Succumbed to pressure.

Because you refuse to heal your open wounds, I don't need to justify the shadows dancing in the sun. Only those who take refuge in darkness are influenced by the image of pressure. Only those who breathe negativity succumb to the mirage of hate. Your dreams are a blur and your ambitions are to waste. It is you who must take responsibility for the walking corpse.

So when I stand by the edge, looking over the ledge and my eyes taste the bitter sweetness, don't attempt to talk me down. Your words are hollow and unfaithful.
And if I jump, by all means don't break my fall, for gravity and insanity is my peace of mind. I laugh while I experiment. You cry while you haven't even taken a step.

Scowl me, but be sure your thoughts are sincere.

Mock me, as long as one eye is open.

Mind me, as long as you follow me.

Until then, while ignoring the moment your open wounds are now deep seeded.

Penguins in a crowd.

The air I breathe, the folks I see,
Penguins in a crowd.

The songs they sing, the drinks they have,
Penguins in a crowd.

The scene is absurd, boring and blurred,
Penguins in a crowd.

I am both a cynic and a critic.
Just a Penguin in the crowd.