Monday, June 26, 2006
In This Oppressive Sun
In This Oppressive Sun
I am an old woman
on a chair in this oppressive sun
selling things of petite merit to survive.
I eat but do not worry about taste.
I am invisible, having moved here and
been abandoned by family that has
disappeared into the abyss.
I hear screams, witness parking lot
snarls, listen to arguments and
continue to sit.
I do not investigate
since no one would choose me as
judge. I am too frail to move much and
I have little motivation except enough
money to buy food for tomorrow.
I shall not be rewarded for being a
living corpse near
this office building's door front.
I am less than human and
I will never be part of the modern machine.
They walk by me, bow their heads, do
not attempt to speak with me
from fear I will drool or utter
absurdities in a language they don't
comprehend. My undergarments are gray,
my dress is bedraggled,
My hair is gone. I wear a poor hat, I cannot
afford a decent wig. I am a scrap of
paper that the street sweeper waits to
throw away. My face has
become a lemon with heavy folds
covered with wrinkles.
Cars abound, I haven't
ridden in one for years, I see
mobile phones but no one will call me.
My funeral shall be devoid of
sorrow except for a few people who dwell in
our dilapidated apartment building and
who will whisper - she is better off...
A club without enough members,
the last one to perish
will have no one left to turn out the light.
The trees turn, the days
continue and life will go on without
me not pausing for a second.
My knick-knacks lay on a dirty cloth sheet.
People gaze at the objects
embarrassed for me, and try to
find the cheapest thing to buy.
I am only a little better than a beggar with a
cup in my hand, or a man holding a microphone and
singing folk songs from the old country.
And the people continue to walk by
entering the cement building for their
appointments trying to control the future.
The guards for the building dare not
ask me to move since I am older than the wind
in their eyes. I have only entered
the building a few times since I began
selling my things a few years ago,
and that has been to escape torrential rains.
I have been allowed to drip and
dry off on an old wooden chair
which I assume they keep around for
discarded boxes and the unclean
waiting for delivery trucks or the
ambulance to pick up the burdensome.
I am afraid I shall die here on the
pavement and nobody will bother to move me
until the birds have made an intolerable mess.
I hear news via a radio in the mornings and
evenings before and after I have sold
my wares on the sidewalk. I know
other places exist, and I imagine these
far away places are paved with gold and
the people sleep on silk sheets as
I eat my soup and drink my weak tea.
Every day I wake and I am grateful
but no longer understand why.
Until I remember the children who I occasionally
see and make me smile. Their
innocence, their joy, their satisfaction with
the world is clear and I know
that once too I felt I was part of
something grand and that I was
not merely a ball of dust,
which has not fallen completely apart yet.
by Zevchi - Kfar Saba - June 2006
I am an old woman
on a chair in this oppressive sun
selling things of petite merit to survive.
I eat but do not worry about taste.
I am invisible, having moved here and
been abandoned by family that has
disappeared into the abyss.
I hear screams, witness parking lot
snarls, listen to arguments and
continue to sit.
I do not investigate
since no one would choose me as
judge. I am too frail to move much and
I have little motivation except enough
money to buy food for tomorrow.
I shall not be rewarded for being a
living corpse near
this office building's door front.
I am less than human and
I will never be part of the modern machine.
They walk by me, bow their heads, do
not attempt to speak with me
from fear I will drool or utter
absurdities in a language they don't
comprehend. My undergarments are gray,
my dress is bedraggled,
My hair is gone. I wear a poor hat, I cannot
afford a decent wig. I am a scrap of
paper that the street sweeper waits to
throw away. My face has
become a lemon with heavy folds
covered with wrinkles.
Cars abound, I haven't
ridden in one for years, I see
mobile phones but no one will call me.
My funeral shall be devoid of
sorrow except for a few people who dwell in
our dilapidated apartment building and
who will whisper - she is better off...
A club without enough members,
the last one to perish
will have no one left to turn out the light.
The trees turn, the days
continue and life will go on without
me not pausing for a second.
My knick-knacks lay on a dirty cloth sheet.
People gaze at the objects
embarrassed for me, and try to
find the cheapest thing to buy.
I am only a little better than a beggar with a
cup in my hand, or a man holding a microphone and
singing folk songs from the old country.
And the people continue to walk by
entering the cement building for their
appointments trying to control the future.
The guards for the building dare not
ask me to move since I am older than the wind
in their eyes. I have only entered
the building a few times since I began
selling my things a few years ago,
and that has been to escape torrential rains.
I have been allowed to drip and
dry off on an old wooden chair
which I assume they keep around for
discarded boxes and the unclean
waiting for delivery trucks or the
ambulance to pick up the burdensome.
I am afraid I shall die here on the
pavement and nobody will bother to move me
until the birds have made an intolerable mess.
I hear news via a radio in the mornings and
evenings before and after I have sold
my wares on the sidewalk. I know
other places exist, and I imagine these
far away places are paved with gold and
the people sleep on silk sheets as
I eat my soup and drink my weak tea.
Every day I wake and I am grateful
but no longer understand why.
Until I remember the children who I occasionally
see and make me smile. Their
innocence, their joy, their satisfaction with
the world is clear and I know
that once too I felt I was part of
something grand and that I was
not merely a ball of dust,
which has not fallen completely apart yet.
by Zevchi - Kfar Saba - June 2006
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Militants?
so lets get this right, an israeli army outpost that was attacked today which functions on israeli soil by every legal definition and suffers two soldiers deaths and one soldier being abducted was merely being attatcked by 'militants'?
my question is this, if the militants were backed by hamas, publicly congratulated by hamas, and hamas is running the palestinian govt. - why isn't the attack described as an action by the palestinian govt against that of the israeli govt?
why shouldn't israel act as if a nation committed an act of war and proceed from there?
what other country on the planet would be asked to show restraint under such circumstance? what other country on the planet must sustain a daily barrage of missiles being fired into towns and told to understand the 'enemy'?
what have we gotten since we left gaza? we have watched as hamas was elected into power, qassams rain down on sderot and other areas, a couple of suicide bombings, and now this attack upon the israeli army.
ok, good, if the world but more importantly the israelis refuse to see the light and understand that nothing we ever do will be good enough for these people we are destined for only more trouble.
we must put our politically correct manners aside and fight a war.
my question is this, if the militants were backed by hamas, publicly congratulated by hamas, and hamas is running the palestinian govt. - why isn't the attack described as an action by the palestinian govt against that of the israeli govt?
why shouldn't israel act as if a nation committed an act of war and proceed from there?
what other country on the planet would be asked to show restraint under such circumstance? what other country on the planet must sustain a daily barrage of missiles being fired into towns and told to understand the 'enemy'?
what have we gotten since we left gaza? we have watched as hamas was elected into power, qassams rain down on sderot and other areas, a couple of suicide bombings, and now this attack upon the israeli army.
ok, good, if the world but more importantly the israelis refuse to see the light and understand that nothing we ever do will be good enough for these people we are destined for only more trouble.
we must put our politically correct manners aside and fight a war.
Friday, June 23, 2006
eliminated from the world cup
as for the Americans playing futbol in the world cup.
if you play bad enough to let the refs decide the game for you than you are playing bad to begin with in most cases.
America let the refs give the game to Ghana.
the Americans seemed to lack heart, they seemingly lacked the ability to really want to lay it on the line. it seemed to me their effort in an elimination game was not near enough.
too they lack size and speed when it counts. not all of their players need to be tall, but they could use a couple of guys who can play in the air.
speed and strength count for something too........the Americans were pushed off the ball all too easy in many cases.
and importantly the States still lacks ball technique. they lack the ability to keep the ball on their foot. that may sound ridiculous but watch the Argentines or Brasilians, they have the ability to be in traffic - not panic, move (dribble) or make a pass threading the defense around them.
in order to finish up a possession with with a goal, ball technique is a crucial deficiency that was all too evident, the inability to finish killed the Americans.
America is better than they showed, but they imo need to make (read ORDER) their top twenty players to play in Europe no matter what league it is that wants them within England, Spain, Italy, etc.........and hey they could even send players to the Argentine league.
i know several players are overseas, but they need to make their entire international team play in foreign leagues.
soccer is still thought of as a finesse game in the states, while it is artistic, it is also a brutal game at the top level.
people bleed while playing the game. they play in pain and they must play through any thoughts of being worn out - mentally as well as physically.
watch the Italians, they absolutely crush anyone who stands in their way as do the Argentines........
they will test your legs on tackles and make sure you are aching after trying to head balls.
Brasil does the same thing but acts like the Lakers (of old in basketball) used to, "no, no, i would never foul anyone, i am from Brasil afterall".
at this point Bruce Arena had a nice run, but it is time for him to hand this team off to someone else. the Americans need a coach with charisma to sell soccer in the States and make his players understand that they will not get better if they are mostly playing in the MSL.
lastly, what the Americans lacked the most, was PASSION, they did not show it against the Czechs or the team from Ghana. i don't know why they could play so tough against Italy and lack heart against lesser teams. yes, i know the Czechs are a highly respected team, but that doesn't mean you need to bow down to them as per their getting beat yesterday by Italy and losing previously to Ghana and being eliminated too.
if you play bad enough to let the refs decide the game for you than you are playing bad to begin with in most cases.
America let the refs give the game to Ghana.
the Americans seemed to lack heart, they seemingly lacked the ability to really want to lay it on the line. it seemed to me their effort in an elimination game was not near enough.
too they lack size and speed when it counts. not all of their players need to be tall, but they could use a couple of guys who can play in the air.
speed and strength count for something too........the Americans were pushed off the ball all too easy in many cases.
and importantly the States still lacks ball technique. they lack the ability to keep the ball on their foot. that may sound ridiculous but watch the Argentines or Brasilians, they have the ability to be in traffic - not panic, move (dribble) or make a pass threading the defense around them.
in order to finish up a possession with with a goal, ball technique is a crucial deficiency that was all too evident, the inability to finish killed the Americans.
America is better than they showed, but they imo need to make (read ORDER) their top twenty players to play in Europe no matter what league it is that wants them within England, Spain, Italy, etc.........and hey they could even send players to the Argentine league.
i know several players are overseas, but they need to make their entire international team play in foreign leagues.
soccer is still thought of as a finesse game in the states, while it is artistic, it is also a brutal game at the top level.
people bleed while playing the game. they play in pain and they must play through any thoughts of being worn out - mentally as well as physically.
watch the Italians, they absolutely crush anyone who stands in their way as do the Argentines........
they will test your legs on tackles and make sure you are aching after trying to head balls.
Brasil does the same thing but acts like the Lakers (of old in basketball) used to, "no, no, i would never foul anyone, i am from Brasil afterall".
at this point Bruce Arena had a nice run, but it is time for him to hand this team off to someone else. the Americans need a coach with charisma to sell soccer in the States and make his players understand that they will not get better if they are mostly playing in the MSL.
lastly, what the Americans lacked the most, was PASSION, they did not show it against the Czechs or the team from Ghana. i don't know why they could play so tough against Italy and lack heart against lesser teams. yes, i know the Czechs are a highly respected team, but that doesn't mean you need to bow down to them as per their getting beat yesterday by Italy and losing previously to Ghana and being eliminated too.
