‏הצגת רשומות עם תוויות שירה. הצג את כל הרשומות
‏הצגת רשומות עם תוויות שירה. הצג את כל הרשומות

יום שלישי, 24 במאי 2011

a pile of garden rubble

An attempt to create a living environment out of food and capturing it as a moment in a life time therefore making it look fresher and more appetizing.

making the dish - Or Nudelman
Taking the photos - A Wind





סביצ'ה טרכון ושורשים



Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine


There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon 
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon 
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her 
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms 

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days 
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made 
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings 
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves 

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass 
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last 
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring 
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds 


There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all 
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls 
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns 
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned 

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe 
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me 
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know 
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone 




יום שני, 16 במאי 2011

five deep fried survivors on a bloody raft

An attempt to create a living environment out of food and capturing it as a moment in a life time therefore making it look fresher and more appetizing.



סרדינים מטוגנים, מרק יוגורט שקדים ועגבניות לחות


The Ugly Duckling SongListen to it here


There once was an ugly duckling 
With feathers all stubby and brown 
And the other birds said in so many words said
Quack!
Get out of town 
Get out, get out, get out of town 
And he went with a quack and a waddle and a quack 
In a flurry of eiderdown 
That poor little ugly duckling 
Went wandering far and near 
But at every place they said to his face 
Now get out, get out, get out of here 
And he went with a quack and a waddle and a quack 
And a very unhappy tear 
All through the wintertime he hid himself away 
Ashamed to show his face, afraid of what others might say 
All through the winter in his lonely clump of wheat 
Till a flock of swans spied him there and very soon agreed 
You’re a very fine swan indeed! 
A swan? Me a swan? Ah, go on! 
And he said yes, you’re a swan 
Take a look at yourself in the lake and you’ll see 
And he looked, and he saw, and he said 
I am a swan! Wheeeeeeee! 
I’m not such an ugly duckling 
No feathers all stubby and brown 
For in fact these birds in so many words said 
The best in town, the best, the best 
The best in town 
Not a quack, not a quack, not a waddle or a quack 
But a glide and a whistle and a snowy white back 
And a head so noble and high 
Say who’s an ugly duckling? 
Not I! 
Not I!




יום ראשון, 20 במרץ 2011

ים - Sea






I Am the Walrus / The Beatles



I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I'm crying.

Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob.

Mister City Policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
I'm crying, I'm crying.
I'm crying, I'm crying.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog's eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob.

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don't come, you get a tan
From standing in the English rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.

Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don't you thing the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I'm crying.

Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower.
Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.
Goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob g'goo... 



יום רביעי, 16 במרץ 2011


אנחנו, בתוך עצמנו אנחנו מקופלים.
ספונים במגדלי בטון מזוין,
כפופים אל מול צגים מרצדים.
צחנת מסוֹס ורקב עולה מאיתנו,
צחנת עובר ושב וצחנת חיוב חודשי.


ממלכותינו מכותרות
בחומות בצורות
של ריבית נשך.


לא ראינו שמש שוקעת זה שנים רבות;
לא נגענו באילן צומח ולא אכלנו מפריו;
לא השתכשכנו בברכה של מי קרח מצעירים
וניחוח רביבי עלות השחר לא בא באפינו.


קנינו את עולמנו
ואת עולמם של אחרים.
ומרוב שִׁפְעַת הרכש,
בלי משים,
גם שתינו יין ענושים.


ושכחנו שיש גם מגפיים לזמנים של שלוליות,
במרכזן עמדנו והבטנו מטה.
לא ראינו כלום מלבד פנים זרות ולב רצוץ.







יום רביעי, 24 בנובמבר 2010