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Underground eXperts United
Presents...
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[ Old Buk In The Holy City ] [ By Moshe Benarroch ]
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Old Buk in the holy city
By Moshe Benarroch
THE MEMORY OF THE STREETS
They wanted to forget
And we wanted
to remember
We asked about the odors
And they smiled
Then they said
Why would you
want to know
We asked about the streets
About the corners
About the names
And they said
That is the past
But our questions were
our most urgent present
They didn't want to remember
And we didn't want to forget
We held on to every face in our memories
To every street to every corner
To the children we were
We remembered the color of the sand
And the smell of shells
The view of the sea
And a few people
We held on to things
Because our lives
Depended on them
We held on to fragments of our memories
Till the horns of the altar
But our parents wanted to forget
We will never know what they wanted to forget
Was it the gentle and beautiful memories
Or the memory of the hard change
Was the confrontation so hard
The abyss between the present and the past
Did they think from time to time they made a mistake
And erased these thoughts forgetting
They wanted to forget
But didn't succeed
in making us forget.
2000 YEARS AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN
We missed Jerusalem
and not Tel Aviv
we missed
the temple
and not McDonald
and now everybody's talking
about common sense
economic future
Israeli shares
standard of leaving
and financial peace
for every piece.
And I say to you
all these things will pass
from the world
and forever
in this world
will remain
the longing.
SO LONG WONDERFUL ATHEIST
I read Bukowsky
so long
my friend
hope you have
discovered
there's life after
the tomb
the horses
the women
and
the wine
and I say to myself
what's a guy like me
who believes
in the coming of the messiah
and the reconstruction of the temple
doing
reading Bukowsky
and it reminds me of a poet friend
who used to read Elliot
in the synagogue
Elliot may be ok
but Bukowsky...
yes, it is coming
I prefer one Bukowsky
a German guy telling the truth naked
to a thousand rabbis
discussing the Kashrout of a cucumber
And immediately after saying it
I feel Tremendous
guilt.
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