http://www.jonber.com/index.htmlSong and music by Jon Ber. 
The last years of the second millennium and until September 11th 2001 presented a window of opportunity to move around and cross borders between continents and countries like never before. The end of the Cold War and the death of Apartheid, rejuvenated road that were dormant since the Dark Ages giving birth to millions of new paths.  The owners of the proper passport were welcome. Mine was. I just got it. With a picture aimed at easing the minds of customs borders officers and cops in general. I dumped the yuppy suit and ties in the USA but adopted a short hair cut and clean shave. Keeping appearances was crucial. I'll be getting in and out counties carryings merchandise from 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, It was all legal. Result of perception. USA citizens are rich therefore legitimate. I witnessed other nations dreamers stopped at the border. I knew how lucky I was. I was born in Eastern Europe. 
Nasha didn't know that. She had a burning desire 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. Family members were programmed to tell on each other. Record were kept by anonymous officials, on behalf of the supreme power, in unmarked buildings, in an incompressible maze. Kafka land. There was no safety nor trust among the privileged party inner circle either.  The East German secret police Stasi had mothers informing on their children. 
We met on the train from East Berlin to Prague. Nasha was the first lady Rock band promoters in the Soviet block, permitted to travel within some of the Iron curtain borders. Her face was glued to my guitar. when quietly I played  American songs as the train made its way under darkening sky. 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 a possibility. Even some of my friends in the USA were convinced that I worked for the Mossad or the CIA. 

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 and time will soon join to give hundreds of millions of people, on eleven time zones, freedom of expression and movement. I couldn't imagine that, but heard myself assuring Nasha that she will get to go wherever she wants soon. There I sang a verse from John Nekton'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. I had a record saying silly optimistic stuff and believing in it. I was six or seven years old , when I comforted a girl I had a crash on, telling her not be sad because anybody can achieve their wishes if they really wanted them enough. She laughed. I wore blue short trousseaus. Her name was Mia. She was , six years older. It was hopeless. It was in Jerusalem. 
 
The next morning, we arrived to 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. 

Traveling became significantly more affordable as the nineties unveiled. Infant as it was, Internet information quickly accelerated flourishing industry. One was no longer dependent on recommendations from self serving, incompetent travel agents - about whether one has a better chance to make it alive, using Tarom, the Romanian Airline, or Aeroflot. Both were using the same notorious, mid air rattling planes. There were not many other choices of getting into Nepal & India where TORA TORA, after surviving the initial few years shock - I started feeling SHANTY. 
Visa requirements were cancelled or dramatically liberalized everywhere. l was there. With one beg, a guitar and a USA passport that magically opened every door I wanted to enter. I had no room nor desire to keep in touch with the past. 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. It was few years ago, while at the desert oasis Hindi holly town Pushkar, Rajastan, India, that Yo'av, the Citar player, notified me that "actually everybody 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 that the update may be, " The rumors of my demise were highly exaggerate:.." Mark Twain. Jane had the same information in Los Angeles, CA, when 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 Spauld Avenue. 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 also summoned Karen by phone. Later that evening Ron 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, expecting being called a bum. After almost three years in the USA, I was about to fly back to to India, Indonesia and Thailand. 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. 
The last days of 1999 seen America in a bit of a panic due to a year-end doomsday theory. I accompany a friend to a fancy book store were she loaded herself up with 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 as a teenager. "An Ass carrying books is still an Ass." I said laughing. "I hope you don't mind. I had to use this joke. It was about to expire."   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. 
 Fast forward ten years : I designed the silver jewelry collection by drawing it ( MS picture it) in my home office in the North Carolina, USA and published it on the web immediately using FrontPage. It included specifications of quantities, gemstones choice, dimensions packing and labeling instructions. My rumbling about the importance of quality workmanship were inevitable. Brutal streets reality demands be the cheapest or your children won't be eating tonight. I was lucky to afford investing few more Rupees in labor cost. This will make all the difference in the world for hundreds of master silversmith who will be allowed the time to perform their best and developed their skills. 
Next a 15 kilo silver bullion was acquired by Pawan in Jaipur, Rajastan, and the gemstones arrived promptly from suppliers located at the joining allies of Evergreen market. It is the largest hand stone cutting and hand crafted jewelry creation and trading post on Earth. From Diamonds to Agate Carat to kilo, Platinum to bronze everything sells by weight. 
By evening time our Master Silversmith friends where invited to discuss the new styles with Pawan at the shop in the heart of Evergreen. I imagine them watching the pictures on the computer with some skepticism. Most probably needed few Chai (Hindi for tea to digest the new styles. Chai mp3 0,02. Perhaps they were tilting their head from side to side in a movement the means: "This crazy man. I don't know what inside his mind going?" When they left the madness of Jaipur on the journey back to their villages in the Rajastan desert, they carried the silver bullion and dozens little folded white envelopes with the gemstones, in the most inconspicuous plastic disposable bags. Couple of weeks later, the ready earrings and pendants went back to Pawan for inspection and packaging. Then the Indian customs papers were filled.  Next the packages were taken to the Main post office and sent by Speed Mail ( the equivalent of the US post Global Express.) Five days later the US postal service delivered it to my door in North Carolina. 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 aspiring artists and artisans. Got to meet and hang out with hundreds venders at their places of business - while seeing the world and establishing fulfilling relationships. I traveled to: Africa: Botswana, Egypt, Grand Canary Islands (Spain), Kenya, Lesotho, Madagascar, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, Swaziland, Tanzania, (Zanzibar) Zambia, Zimbabwe. Americas: Argentina, Brazil, Canada, Costa Rica, Mexico, Panama, United States 50 states. Asia: Cambodia, India, Indonesia, (Bali) Israel, (West bank and Gaza strip) Japan, (three southern Islands) Malaysia, Nepal, Philippines, (Burakay) Singapore, Taiwan, Thailand, (Ko Chang. Ko Phangan, Ko Samoi) Turkey. Europe: Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Cyprus, (now split into north and south) Czechoslovakia (now split into two countries) Denmark, England, Finland, France, Germany, (East Germany now reunited with west) Greece, (Corfu, Crete) Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Liechtenstein, Netherlands, Northern Ireland, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Scotland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, (Majorca) Sweden, Switzerland, Wells, Yugoslavia Oceania: Australia, New Zealand (North & South Islands  I write, play, record and publish this website from my little house in the country in North Carolina, USA, where life is peacefully green, simple, and there's no need to shave in the morning. Adobe Audition & FrontPage were recently replaced with RapdWeaver and I moved to Mac which makes me feel like a superstar. Green fields, woods and cows for neighbors, my life style is just about as opposite  form the days I lived on the road between somewhere and nowhere - moving on while getting to know Earth on the street level. 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 Music, lyrics, vocal guitar and piano by Jon Ber   
© jonber™  2007 All rights reserved 
 Box 264 Catawba, NC, USA 
 
The last years of the second millennium and until September 11th 2001 presented a window of opportunity to move around and cross borders between continents and countries like never before. The end of the Cold War and the death of Apartheid, rejuvenated road that were dormant since the Dark Ages giving birth to millions of new paths.  The owners of the proper passport were welcome. Mine was. I just got it. With a picture aimed at easing the minds of customs borders officers and cops in general. I dumped the yuppy suit and ties in the USA but adopted a short hair cut and clean shave. Keeping appearances was crucial. I'll be getting in and out counties carryings merchandise from 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, It was all legal. Result of perception. USA citizens are rich therefore legitimate. I witnessed other nations dreamers stopped at the border. I knew how lucky I was. I was born in Eastern Europe. 
Nasha didn't know that. She had a burning desire 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. Family members were programmed to tell on each other. Record were kept by anonymous officials, on behalf of the supreme power, in unmarked buildings, in an incompressible maze. Kafka land. There was no safety nor trust among the privileged party inner circle either.  The East German secret police Stasi had mothers informing on their children. 
We met on the train from East Berlin to Prague. Nasha was the first lady Rock band promoters in the Soviet block, permitted to travel within some of the Iron curtain borders. Her face was glued to my guitar. when quietly I played  American songs as the train made its way under darkening sky. 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 a possibility. Even some of my friends in the USA were convinced that I worked for the Mossad or the CIA. 

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 and time will soon join to give hundreds of millions of people, on eleven time zones, freedom of expression and movement. I couldn't imagine that, but heard myself assuring Nasha that she will get to go wherever she wants soon. There I sang a verse from John Nekton'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. I had a record saying silly optimistic stuff and believing in it. I was six or seven years old , when I comforted a girl I had a crash on, telling her not be sad because anybody can achieve their wishes if they really wanted them enough. She laughed. I wore blue short trousseaus. Her name was Mia. She was , six years older. It was hopeless. It was in Jerusalem. 
 
The next morning, we arrived to 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. 

Traveling became significantly more affordable as the nineties unveiled. Infant as it was, Internet information quickly accelerated flourishing industry. One was no longer dependent on recommendations from self serving, incompetent travel agents - about whether one has a better chance to make it alive, using Tarom, the Romanian Airline, or Aeroflot. Both were using the same notorious, mid air rattling planes. There were not many other choices of getting into Nepal & India where TORA TORA, after surviving the initial few years shock - I started feeling SHANTY. 
Visa requirements were cancelled or dramatically liberalized everywhere. l was there. With one beg, a guitar and a USA passport that magically opened every door I wanted to enter. I had no room nor desire to keep in touch with the past. 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. It was few years ago, while at the desert oasis Hindi holly town Pushkar, Rajastan, India, that Yo'av, the Citar player, notified me that "actually everybody 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 that the update may be, " The rumors of my demise were highly exaggerate:.." Mark Twain. Jane had the same information in Los Angeles, CA, when 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 Spauld Avenue. 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 also summoned Karen by phone. Later that evening Ron 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, expecting being called a bum. After almost three years in the USA, I was about to fly back to to India, Indonesia and Thailand. 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. 
The last days of 1999 seen America in a bit of a panic due to a year-end doomsday theory. I accompany a friend to a fancy book store were she loaded herself up with 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 as a teenager. "An Ass carrying books is still an Ass." I said laughing. "I hope you don't mind. I had to use this joke. It was about to expire."   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. 
 Fast forward ten years : I designed the silver jewelry collection by drawing it ( MS picture it) in my home office in the North Carolina, USA and published it on the web immediately using FrontPage. It included specifications of quantities, gemstones choice, dimensions packing and labeling instructions. My rumbling about the importance of quality workmanship were inevitable. Brutal streets reality demands be the cheapest or your children won't be eating tonight. I was lucky to afford investing few more Rupees in labor cost. This will make all the difference in the world for hundreds of master silversmith who will be allowed the time to perform their best and developed their skills. 
Next a 15 kilo silver bullion was acquired by Pawan in Jaipur, Rajastan, and the gemstones arrived promptly from suppliers located at the joining allies of Evergreen market. It is the largest hand stone cutting and hand crafted jewelry creation and trading post on Earth. From Diamonds to Agate Carat to kilo, Platinum to bronze everything sells by weight. 
By evening time our Master Silversmith friends where invited to discuss the new styles with Pawan at the shop in the heart of Evergreen. I imagine them watching the pictures on the computer with some skepticism. Most probably needed few Chai (Hindi for tea to digest the new styles. Chai mp3 0,02. Perhaps they were tilting their head from side to side in a movement the means: "This crazy man. I don't know what inside his mind going?" When they left the madness of Jaipur on the journey back to their villages in the Rajastan desert, they carried the silver bullion and dozens little folded white envelopes with the gemstones, in the most inconspicuous plastic disposable bags. Couple of weeks later, the ready earrings and pendants went back to Pawan for inspection and packaging. Then the Indian customs papers were filled.  Next the packages were taken to the Main post office and sent by Speed Mail ( the equivalent of the US post Global Express.) Five days later the US postal service delivered it to my door in North Carolina. 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 aspiring artists and artisans. Got to meet and hang out with hundreds venders at their places of business - while seeing the world and establishing fulfilling relationships. I traveled to: Africa: Botswana, Egypt, Grand Canary Islands (Spain), Kenya, Lesotho, Madagascar, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, Swaziland, Tanzania, (Zanzibar) Zambia, Zimbabwe. Americas: Argentina, Brazil, Canada, Costa Rica, Mexico, Panama, United States 50 states. Asia: Cambodia, India, Indonesia, (Bali) Israel, (West bank and Gaza strip) Japan, (three southern Islands) Malaysia, Nepal, Philippines, (Burakay) Singapore, Taiwan, Thailand, (Ko Chang. Ko Phangan, Ko Samoi) Turkey. Europe: Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Cyprus, (now split into north and south) Czechoslovakia (now split into two countries) Denmark, England, Finland, France, Germany, (East Germany now reunited with west) Greece, (Corfu, Crete) Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Liechtenstein, Netherlands, Northern Ireland, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Scotland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, (Majorca) Sweden, Switzerland, Wells, Yugoslavia Oceania: Australia, New Zealand (North & South Islands  I write, play, record and publish this website from my little house in the country in North Carolina, USA, where life is peacefully green, simple, and there's no need to shave in the morning. Adobe Audition & FrontPage were recently replaced with RapdWeaver and I moved to Mac which makes me feel like a superstar. Green fields, woods and cows for neighbors, my life style is just about as opposite  form the days I lived on the road between somewhere and nowhere - moving on while getting to know Earth on the street level. 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 Music, lyrics, vocal guitar and piano by Jon Ber   
© jonber™  2007 All rights reserved 
 Box 264 Catawba, NC, USA 
enjonber@mac.comCopyright 2008 jonathan ber2008-07-28T12:00:00-04:00 hourly 1 2000-01-01T12:00+00:00 Sun, 27 Jul 2008 06:15:25 -0400JON BERCHINESE JOKEjonber@mac.comJON BER, JONBER, MYSIC, CHINESE JOKEmusic by jon berSong about Darfur,Tibet and Human rights abuse by the Chinese government.jonber@mac.comHOME2008-07-28T12:00:00-04:00http://www.jonber.com/files/http:/www.jonber.com/page11/files/podcast_0.mov#unique-entry-id-0http://www.jonber.com/files/http:/www.jonber.com/page11/files/podcast_0.mov#unique-entry-id-0
CHINESE JOKE. Audio & video 3:12
Thugs sell oil. You are buying. In Darfur people are dying. Women raped. Children slaughtered. Life set on fire. Urgent! to Panda. People republic of China. Need your help. Stop Evil. Free Tibet. Free your own people.



AMERICA COME BACK: audio 7:08
Tear in the eyes. Carries a torch. Everybody knows 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 the book, thy rave. America come back. Home of the free and competent. Katrina. Abu Grab. The war doesn't end, Bin Laden not dead.


VAGABOND Audio 4:34
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 longer 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.



PEACE audio & video 3:43
(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. Music, lyrics, vocals, guitars, keyboard by Jon Ber

LOVE IS FREE.Audio 2:26
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.



CAROLINA GREENS: audio & video 4:12
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 l don't know why.



POLISH JOKE: Dry Frog & video 3:08 .
DRY FROG. Audio & Video 3:08. .A certain frog lady was weak. So she went to a doctor and said: I am sick. Lyrics by Jan Brzechwa. Music, translation, vocal, keyboard & guitars by Jon Ber



SEEN THE LIGHT. Audio 1:46
SEEN THE LIGHT. AUDIO 1:46. 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.


BAR HARBOR audio 4:05
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. 



KING SHRON audio 2:57.
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. Music, lyrics, vocal & guitars by Jon Ber
Podcast


WOMEN IN BLACK: 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. Music lyrics, vocal, guitars & piano by jon ber


PEACE OF MIND: 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. Peace of mind comes your way one day. Shame it wasn't time to share devotion. Ini, mini, miny mo.
Music lyrics, vocal, guitars & piano by jon ber

jonber™  All rights reserved.  Box 264 Catawba, NC, USA 

]]>Jon Berchinese joke, jonber,jon ber, musicchinese jokesong and music by jonber about chinese government indifference to Darfur, Tibet and human rights in china