Dear Marco Polo
Open window in the last years of the second
millennium provided opportunity to
cross borders between countries and continents like
never before. The Cold War war ended.
Apartheid died. Revived, passages
dormant since the Dark Ages sprouted multitude new
paths. Proprietors of privileged passport were welcome
everywhere.
AMERICA COME BACK
Music, lyrics, vocal, guitars by Jon Ber
Tear in the eyes carries the torch.
Everybody can see
what’s going on:
Rush in the Limbaugh.
Gingrich in Georgia.
Delay in Texas.
Mississippi got the Lot.
Mrs Lot looked back.
ended as salt.
I read it said in thy book thy rave.
America come back.
home of the free
& competent.
Katrina.
Abu Grab.
The war doesn't
end.
Bin Laden not
dead.
La la la lies.
P P P poop.
Ga ga gaga.
Blah Blah blah
Dream
halting borders
Mine was. With a picture aimed at easing the mind of
customs borders officers and officials in general. I
farewell the Yuppie suit in the
USA,
yet
maintained a short hair cut and clean shave. Keeping up
appearances was crucial. I'll be getting in and out
countries carryings handcrafted creations produced on
the streets, market, and remote indigence villages
in Africa, Asia and South America
and selling
it to shop owners, market venders and jewelers in small
towns and the biggest cities Amsterdam, Zurich, Paris, Vienna, Munich, London, Tokyo, Sydney.
Johannesburg and later across the
United states. It was all legal. Result of perception.
USA citizens are rich therefore legitimate. I witnessed
other nations dreamers stopped at the border.
Being born in
Eastern Europe
I was well
aware of the extent of my fortune. I didn't tell Nasha.
She had a burning desire ( brennende wunsch) to see
London and Paris. She wasn't an optimist. It was
something foreigners, undamaged by the
East German regime
Stalinestickly
inspired,
brand of sadism could envelope to be. Colleagues,
friends and lovers were programmed to tell on each
other. Information was gathered in unmarked building by
anonymous officials on behalf of the supreme power.
Impenetrable, incomprehensible maze. Kafka. There was no safety
nor trust among the privileged party inner circle
either. Terrorizing the core of humanity the East German
secret police Stasi had mothers snitch on
their children.
AMAZING
GRace Jon Newton
vocals. guitars, keyboard by Jon Ber
Gulilver
nor Giraffe
We met on the train from East Berlin to Prague. Nasha was one of the
few Rock band promoters in
the Soviet block, thus permitted to
travel within some of the Iron curtain’s borders. I
played American songs while the train made
its way under darkening sky. Her face was glued to my
guitar. There were three armed Russians and an East
German soldier in the compartment with us. They demanded
more music. I pulled out the first of two bottles
of Scotch
Whiskey. A singing party
started with more passengers crowding the corridor,
cheering and dancing as the bottles were passed on. Few
years earlier I would have been arrested for spreading
decadence. Being accused of spying was
feasible. Even some of my friends in the USA
were convinced that I worked for the
Mossad or the
CIA
because of
my peculiar languages skill and unconventional military
background. My assertion that I'm conspicuously tall for
a secret agent were dismissed as part of the ploy.
.
WALLA - REALLY
Music, lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
(Hebrew) Once
destiny told me:
Fear not mistaking.
I'll guard you at night.
Day will come.
Fallen soldiers playing flutes.
Orphans refugee camps.
Sing a song longing for peace.
Day has come.
(Arabic) Forgive me child, sir, landlord, leader.
My heart wishes peace but my head is crazed.
Thousand nights and a night...
Peace. Day has come.
Really.
My child really.
Positive.
Yes
Missed
another sign
Crackles the barbed wired Berlin Wall steel enforced cement
bricks, were as grimly grey as ever.
Endless miles of rusted tanks, canons, trucks and
assorted out of commission heavy weaponry, piled on
sparsely connecting railway tracks, matching
the surrealistic atmosphere of dilapidation, in a
country that forbade rejuvenation. But omen was given.
Music allowed. Space will soon join eleven time zones to
give hundreds of millions of people, freedom of movement
and expression. I couldn't imagine that, but heard
myself assuring Nasha that she will get to go wherever
she wishes soon. There I sang a verse from
John Newton's Amazing Grace
. "How
sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me." Chill ran
through my spine that morning as I crossed at
Checkpoint Charlie
through the
prison like gates from West Berlin in to the dreary
East.
istic stuff and believing
in it since childhood. Still a pre-schooler I comforted a
girl I had a crash on: “anybody can achieve their wishes if
they really wanted them hard enough”. She laughed. I wore
blue short trousseaus. Her name was Mia. She was , six
years older. It was hopeless. It was in Jerusalem.
CHINESE JOKE
Music, lyrics,
vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
Thugs sell oil.
You are buying.
In Darfur people are dying.
Women raped.
Children slaughtered.
Life set on fire. a
Urgent! to Panda.
People republic of China.
Need your help.
Stop Evil.
Free Tibet.
Free your own people.
By morning, we were in the Danube wonder city of
Prague. It was twenty years
after its spring was crashed by Russian
tanks. The colors were brightening. The city was humming
with local activity and mostly Eastern European
travelers. Fresh paint was applied by a matriculate
master. There was a magnificent gate decoration to a
busy beer garden were we joined other patrons at one of
the long massive wooden tables. My guitar found itself
in the hands of a gifted young Flamenco player from
Cuba She played
Malaguena. Nasha cried. I have
never seen here again.
Gleaming eternal light came to shine on Africa. It
illuminated Earth. His name was
Nelson
Mandela. He called upon
traders to come to the the new Rainbow Nation of
South Africa. And I went. (More
about my three years in Africa soon.)
CAROLINA GREENS
Music, lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
The moon couldn't
sleep.
Early in the
morning.
Carolina greens
unfold,
the sun is waking
up.
We've been
through long ago
but I still don't
know why:
tears don't dry
and the void
lingers on and
on?
If
suddenly, out of thin air.
you pop back in
town.
Don't cherish any
hopes,
we've been
through long ago,
thought I still
don't know why.
Traveling became
significantly more affordable as the nineties unveiled.
Infant as it was, Internet information quickly
accelerated flourishing global trade and leisure
industries. One was no longer dependent on
recommendations from self serving, incompetent travel
agents - wether to fly Tarom, the Romanian Airline,
or the Soviet Union’s, Aeroflot. Both were using the
same notorious, mid air rattling planes. Still there
were not many other choices of getting into
Nepal &
India where TORA TORA,
(slowly slowly) after surviving the initial few years
shock - I started feeling SHANTI. (Inner peace.).
Visa requirements were cancelled or dramatically
liberalized everywhere. There I was. One bag, a guitar and
a USA passport that magically opened each door I chose
entering. There was room to keep in touch with the past. I
vanished. Thus it came to be known, Biblically speaking,
among my family and friends that I have expired. They
should have known better. I've been doing thin air
imitations since childhood.
LOVE IS FREE
Music, lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
Sensing cloud
hugging mountain.
Shortly lived
affair.
Love is free.
Does what she
wants.
Comes and goes.
Misty clouds
kissed the valley.
Stirring life
from despair.
Love is free.
Can't be imposed.
Comes and goes.
I can say Je
t'aime.
But yet to learn
how to love.
Love is free,
nobody knows,
when she comes or
goes.
It was few years ago,
while at one of my favorite palaces on Earth, a desert
oasis Hindi holly town
Pushkar, Rajastan, India, that Yo'av,
the Sitar player, notified me
that "actually everybody back home knows" that I am
dead. "Been like that for years." People eagerly spread
sad news. It makes them feel wonderful. In my case
however, disappointing the update may be to some: "The
rumors of my demise were highly exaggerate:.."
Mark Twain.
Jane had the same information in Los Angeles, California, where I affectedly
ended the twelve years of deadness, by showing up at her
place in Hollywood.
The house
number was unforgettable: 414 and a quarter. She gave me
a summery of the time I lost in one sentence that lasted
well over an hour, during which, without missing a beat
she summoned Karen by phone. In the early eighties Jane
rumbling caused us to be kicked out of a Sunset avenue
restaurant. Ah the good old days. Jagermeister with beer chasers and
Irish coffee to boot. Cruising between the
Barney's Beanery
on
Santa Monica
boulevard and Molly Malone’s on
Fairfax, with early morning
breakfast at Canter’s. I was a newspaper
editor.
POLISH JOKE
The doctor put on
hiss glasses.
As he was getting
a bit old.
Then, he examined her precisely.
And at last, said this:
Lady. Dear Lady:
You must sit on a pump.
You must exhale and inhale,
because you must be dry.
The Frog left the doctor
saying I'm sick.
And a patient
listens to a doctor.
I have to be dry.
I will be dry.
The frog took care of her health.
The frog dried
herself dry.
She did it step by step.
But al that remained of her, was a little
dust.
And the doctor scratches his ear:
Dry, didn’t work
for the dear..
Later
that evening Ron whom I just met, decided after listening
to my reasoning for not contacting anyone and consulting a
dictionary, that Vagabond is most suitable way to describe
who I am. He was Karen's boyfriend and a movie director at
that. I was flattered. It sounded, more romantic than being
called a bum. After almost three years on the roads in the
USA, I went back to the Pushkar and wrote the music and
lyrics for VAGABOND. Bar Harbor and Carolina Greens were
lyrics I added to a soundtrack based on the same theme.
VAGABOND
Music, lyrics,
vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
Winds came
suddenly,
the sky let it go it snowed.
As white swept the soil,
for a moment we thought:
maybe you and I?
You were shy, wanted to know.
I no longer lie, so I told you
that In the morning I'll be gone.
I no loner lie.
Loveless I'm free to be walking off.
Doesn't daunt me,
that my restless soul,
will forever be wondering on.
Code of the nomads, a Troubadour,
I'm a vagabond.
Winds came suddenly,
the sky let it go it snowed.
As white swept the soil,
contemplation evoked,
maybe you and I?
The very last day of 1999 seen America in a bit of hysteria
due to a computer related millennium doomsday theory
named Y2K. I accompanied an
actress friend to a Los Angeles, Rodeo Drive, bookstore were she
loaded herself up with fancy cover books about such and
other catastrophe predictions. "One has to surround
themselves with books so they can sponge the knowledge."
she explained. I remembered a newspaper cartoon I've
seen when I was a teenager. "An Ass carrying books is
still an Ass." I said Jokingly. “Never mind that.” she
said, handing her credit card to pay for a $380 sunglass
pair. She got movie royalties pay that day. “I’ll never
ware cheap sunglasses again” she said in a true
Vivian Lee - Gone with The wind
- fashion.
Next morning, I woke up in a Bell-Air
mansion
after a new year’s party. It was 2000. We were all
alive. I flew back to India where most families couldn’t
earn $380 annually.
SEEN THE LIGHT
Music, lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
He seen the light.
It was too late.
It knocked him out. But he wasn't
dead.
Instead he said:
I've seen the
light.
Its a big one.
It shine so
bright.
We've seen the
light.
It was too late.
By now he was the president.
who've seen the light
Its a big one.
It shines so
bright.
I got stuck penniless,
just about everywhere I went, while learning to do business
on the road. Uncontrollable desire to see the world and
nothing to miss, helped me overcome hurdles and luck showed
up again just when it seem I could go no further. It
was an idea from a mind of a child: Get to the
countries I dreamt about - Find handcrafted merchandise I
liked and could afford developing with the artists that
made them, to fit international standards - Peddle the
final product, to shop owners in a different area of the
same country, or other parts of the world. And so I came to
be a traveling trader.
I fell in love with
Pushkar, on my first trip to India. It was the local
exceptionally friendly, Shanty life style, the colors the
parades the free roaming monkeys, camels, cows and donkeys,
the daily morning salute to the sun and evening sunset
rituals by the lake with Bangalassy at the Teahouse and a
chance to enjoy the company of other travelers - while been
mesmerized by ever changing circus, for months at a time.
Playing guitar quietly, singing whispery in my room, I
joined the echo of drums and singing from passing
processions, wishing harmony in
solitude.
BAR HARBOR
Music,
lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
Winds from the north came suddenly.
The sky opened-up
it started to snow.
When white swept
the soil,
contemplations
evoked:
may you and I?
You were shy in Augusta.
Brave in Bangor.
Aloof the moon,
had lit up the welcome post
to Bar harbor.
It was known all along,
that rivers somehow return to the sea.
I've no one to return to.
Loveless yet free,
I keep moving on.
Never fearing that my restless soul,
will forever be wondering on.
The ways of the nomads, Troubadours. I'm
a Vagabond.
Coming back to the same
villages & markets to upgrade quality, strengthen trust
and improve communication was an uplifting experience I
relieved on six continent. Even better. I returned to visit
my best friends and their families. In some countries, I
was sticking around for months, couple of years, coming
back for years, or passing through just because I had to
check it out. I was lucky to have worked with artists and
master artisans. Got to meet and hang out with hundreds
venders at their places of business and homes - while
seeing the world and establishing fulfilling relationships.
KING SHARON
Music, lyrics, vocals. guitars, by Jon Ber
Wakes up with
conflicting thoughts.
What's better:
Build or demolish?
Reality changed,
as I slept through the years.
It is an abnormal
situation.
He’ll summarize
in a word.
Oh what a man he was.
From the greatest
of the nation.
Idealist. Revisionist.
And a do it man.
Once they called
upon him,
to be a
king. Forever.
And so on the way to top:
He climbed and
devoured.
Killed and
embezzled.
Didn't stick to a
post.
He'll
be switching jobs,
when he wishes.
They sang "king
Arik live and alive".
Not only In
Holon, also in Bat Yam.
And
in Bet El,
they claimed he
is The Saviour.
And so at the top,
rich
an obese,
he squinted
and stuttered.
With your blood
he'll pay.
Till the end he
will fight.
Against peace for
Israel.
Thanks
to the genius of millions on the Digital Avenue Bypass you
can read and listen to what i write, play, sing, record and
publish on this website from my little house in rural USA.
For better or worse I'm driving in hyperspace in . Nice to
me you. Life is peacefully green and simple now. There’s no
need to shave in the morning. I am going nowhere. Birds,
woods fields, ands and cows for neighbors, my life style is
opposite from the days I lived on the road between
somewhere and nowhere - moving on while getting to know
Earth on the street level.
WOMEN
IN BLACK
Music
& lyrics by Jon Ber
I, Yo, E'yo, beg of you:
Give them a chance
to live in freedom, dignity, hope.
Women in Black.
Silently defiant.
In between madness alone.
Collecting darts of pain.
Fragile souls in horror.
Humbly plea emancipation.
For tortured generations.
A current situation in Jerusalem.
I, A'ny, A'na, beg of you:
Share with them your luck
to live in freedom, dignity and hope.
Sarah, remember:
"Lion will lay down with lamb"
It won't be always lonely In Jerusalem.
If by a chance you are one of the people I met during 15
years of roaming on six continents - it will be a great
pleasure for me to renew our friendship. I'd love to hear
from you. Getting in touch is as easy as clicking
Jon Ber
PEACE
OF MIND
Music &
lyrics by Jon Ber
Peace of mind comes your way one day.
Rivers run away from mountains.
Query thoughts.
Splitting hair.
C'est moi.
On a fence. Detached.
No Love no pain.
But now it rains
Peace of mind comes your way one day.
Rivers run away from mountains.
Unite with oceans.
Curious water spreads forever.
Merge with the sky, awaits stormy day.
And then it rains.
Shame it wasn't time to share devotion.
Ini, mini, miny mo.
jonber,com GOOGLE
TRANSLATIONS
ARABIC CHINESE S
CHINESE
T CZECH DANISH DUTCH FINISH FRANCH GERMAN GREEK HEBREW HINDI ITALIAN
JAPANESE
KOREAN NORWEGIAN
POLISH PORTUGUESE
ROMANIAN
RUSSIAN
SPANISH
SWEDISH
MORE SOON.
and lyrics by Jon Ber.
P.o, Box 264. Catawba, NC, 28609 USA