I try to create
to make art
to write poems
it all seems fake now
the brush strokes
the empty words

I try to create
whilst watching other people successes
They're so much better than me
they're so much further than me,
I wonder if my journey was once there's
if they shared this feeling one time

The moon leaves the night
to find the sun,
the sun leaves the day
to find the moon
and I stand in the shadow
they pass between them.

walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?

written at the Herzl Camp

"A drunken man got mad at him / Because he barked in joy / He beat him and he's dying here today / Will you call the doctor please / And tell him if he comes right now / He'll save my precious doggy here he lay / Then he left the fluffy head / But his little dog was dead / Just a shiver and he slowly passed away."


*This extract comes from a poem called Little Buddy, and is controversial. Allegedly written at the Herzl camp there are claims it might be originated by someone else by the name of Hank Snow.

Rolling in time
Strolling along the beat
Don’t know what will come  
All I know I have to hum
To the heat
Storms will pass
I know, I know
What will become?
Rolling in time
Strolling to the beat
Staying out of the heat
Loving each day
Trying to make my way
Everyone rides a storm
You will get out
Strolling along the beat
Don’t take the heat
Storms of life

My mom asked,
Why no friends?
I said,
I just don’t like talking.

But deep down,
I know they think I’m weird.
They ignore me.
I don’t fit.

I used to feel broken.
Left out.
Unheard.

Now,
I love myself.
Even if they call it selfish.
Even if it’s hard.

I’ve found peace
In being alone—
Not lonely,
Just me.

I know I cry a lot
But what to do?
Arcane things pop up.

I broke down
Till my eyes and
Heart ache.
This is how I made—
Instead of handling my mess,
I first cry.