Monday, November 14, 2005

Letter From Jerusalem

I am back. Back to where I once was. Was not long ago. Ago in a time different. Different yet the same. Same places same people. People never change. Change is great. Great to be back. Back to where I once was. Was not long ago…

It may be a cycle, yes, but I have just started a new spin. Am I spinster? Maybe. But, then, aren’t we all. We all turn, turn, turn; only, some of us turn to good and some of us turn to alternatives.

Yes, the Holy Land. Ah, the Holy Land. Oh, the Holy Land. (I sound like a skipping (or not) Beatles vinyl.) It’s funny how truths remain the same. I will leave you with the third poem (actually a song) I have ever written, incidentally while studying in the Holy Land. It may be a bit moldy, as it has been sitting at the bottom of my closet for the past five years; but mold never really affects truth – and truth never really fits a mold.

Though exciting, it is weird showing something so simplistic that you wrote as naïve nitwit; but I guess everything I do will always be simplistic and I will always remain a naïve nitwit, albeit more conscious of the fact. Well, here it is.

I write a letter from Jerusalem –
The land of our fathers; the land of gold.
I write a letter from Jerusalem –
A letter of happiness; a letter of hope.

Coming upon the city of old.
Stones disguised as bricks of gold.
You feel that little twitch we call soul.
It’s warm outside but you shiver in the cold.

Before your heart starts to speak
It’s so hard to say what you feel.
But wants your eyes begin to weep
You realize that it is all so real.

All the sparks come together in one big flame.
All the threads come together to form a knot.
For some reason you feel ashamed.
You feel the tears rolling down and they are all so hot.

The sun sparkles before going to sleep.
The wind shutters in a satisfied sigh.
The skies open and begin to weep.
You spread your wings and begin to fly.

You soar over the mountains of fear;
And through the valleys of despair;
Passed the fields of iniquity;
Into the pages of history.

And as the words of the heart, which we call tears,
Join with the thousands shed throughout the years,
You brush your hot lips on that cold stone.
And you feel that you are finally home.

8 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I happen to be tired of being a man.
I happen to enter tailorshops and moviehouses
withered, impenetrable, like a felt swan
navigating in a water of sources and ashes.
The smell of barbershops makes me wail.
I want only a respite of stones or wool,
I want only not to see establishments or gardens,
or merchandise, or eyeglasses, or elevators.
I happen to be tired of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
I happen to be tired of being a man.

(From "Walking Around")
get some sleep Jake.

11/14/2005 8:47 PM  
Blogger The Bearded One said...

im trying to remember the tune... i have one part and im not sure if there was another. i'll see u soon, im arriving wed in a week and a half and should be in yerushalayim for a wedding at the end of cheshvan.

11/15/2005 12:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

an update would be nice.

11/19/2005 7:24 PM  
Anonymous still too lazy to sign in said...

skiing would be nice. i'll be in yerushalayim next wed for a wedding imyh... menachem porter...come by if ur bored wtvr. ill call. mwaaa. safe flight me.

11/20/2005 12:33 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Skiing happend, just without you or me, what a bunch of shamefull shmigegis.

11/20/2005 6:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Jake

would you update your damn blog.



[please Sue]

11/21/2005 11:40 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

update!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

11/22/2005 12:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

u wrote "But wants your eyes begin to weep You realize that it is all so real." i think u meant to write ONCE not wants ...once your eyes begin to weep... good luck in the future!

4/03/2006 1:22 AM  

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