I found a Red Rose

As I walk across the midnight streets, aglow from the earlier rainfall, I sense a sudden gust of fresh air coming from the north. I lift up my arms and I spin around, like a madman or a clown in a circus somewhere. I feel elated, I feel free and these feelings feel like an […]

A Story to Tell chapter 7

He would always, always use the wrong word in sentences. At first she thought he was kidding, but as they kept on speaking she realized he was, unfortunately not. "I could use a great massage - do you know any good misogynists?" "I find your perfume quite repugnant, Sandy." "I was wondering if they had a boy or girl...when I got to the Brit Milah there was blue all over, so I assumed it was a boy." "They should have exonerated that man, he was so guilty. So sad." She broke the news to him that they needed to stop meeting.

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A Story to Tell chapter 7

He would always, always use the wrong word in sentences. At first she thought he was kidding, but as they kept on speaking she realized he was, unfortunately not. "I could use a great massage - do you know any good misogynists?" "I find your perfume quite repugnant, Sandy." "I was wondering if they had a boy or girl...when I got to the Brit Milah there was blue all over, so I assumed it was a boy." "They should have exonerated that man, he was so guilty. So sad." She broke the news to him that they needed to stop meeting.

Infinite Loss

It was not just six million - an infinite amount of lives will never fight for equality, cure the sick, feed the poor or create agriculture in a barren land. So, no, I will repeat it here. It was not just six million who perished - nor the lived they would have birthed. Think about the contributions that could have saved lives, stopped suffering and added light and understanding into a dark ignorant world.

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Infinite Loss

It was not just six million - an infinite amount of lives will never fight for equality, cure the sick, feed the poor or create agriculture in a barren land. So, no, I will repeat it here. It was not just six million who perished - nor the lived they would have birthed. Think about the contributions that could have saved lives, stopped suffering and added light and understanding into a dark ignorant world.

At the End of the Day Chapter 6

Originally posted on Works:
She walked right into his life and he knew right away he would give in to her. One look at her, four words spoken in her raspy voice and her hand lightly cascading down his left arm… David was walking along Broadway in New York City one Spring Day when he…

At the End of the Day Chapter 6

Originally posted on Works:
She walked right into his life and he knew right away he would give in to her. One look at her, four words spoken in her raspy voice and her hand lightly cascading down his left arm… David was walking along Broadway in New York City one Spring Day when he…

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Swirls of Fire

Children are lost, confused and asking questions. Running in circles, grasping at the wind and trying to capture the sun light. Men huddled speaking softly, what went wrong on that night? Swirls of fire - smoke undetected but did it have to end this way?

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Eternal

The pain from the nightmares that were not nightmares, but reality, will go on forever. The questions, the crazy answers and rationalizations, cited verse and cited commentaries will not help to quell the confusion, to ease the pollution of anger, sadness and solitude. Still, the night began…lost in a never-ending darkness…feeling as if the sun would never rise….suddenly a light on the horizon broke…

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At the End of the Day Chapter 6

She walked right into his life and he knew right away he would give in to her. One look at her, four words spoken in her raspy voice and her hand lightly cascading down his left arm… David was walking along Broadway in New York City one Spring Day when he decided to walk up […]

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She wasn't as passionate as David was and was able to go through life without the perks and spoils her contemporaries took for granted. What she could not handle was the cold sadness that emanated from him. Once when he used to come home the house would light up and she would run to see him. Now it seemed as though his presence brought about a dimming light effect on the home which in turn caused any sense of happiness to see him, to disappear.

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A Story to Tell Chapter 4

"Stop romanticizing everything in your past and see events and people for what and who they were. Then you can learn from them." Dr. Green, my former psychologist. "I prefer to stay stupid and romanticize and glorify the events I have been through and the people I have known." "Why? What benefit do you derive from that?" "Good memories." "But those are false positives. You are glorifying bad memories and ignoring the lessons to be learned in favor of twisting their reality into good memories and happy times." "Correct."

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A Story to Tell

I walked away from the burial ground after we said the mourners prayer and found myself walking into the rented limousine that would take us back to my parents house to begin our week of sitting Shiva. Memories flooded my mind but kept being interrupted by the need to console and others consoling me. I […]

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A Story to Tell

I dream I am in the middle of a large arena – in a boxing ring and I am being introduced. There is a lot of screaming and I cannot even hear what the announcer is saying. I am told to shake hands with the fighter across from me – I look at him and […]

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A Story to Tell or Not to Tell, that is the Question by Freddy S. Zalta

A Story to Tell or Not to Tell, that is the Question by Freddy S. Zalta.Filed under: Freddy Zalta

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A Story to Tell or Not to Tell, that is the Question by Freddy S. Zalta

As I was being seated at my table for one - coincidentally to the right of the table for two consisting of my unknown to me Aunt and her friend - she smiled at me. Her smile was piercing. When she smiled her eyes swam with a muted excitement but kept focus on the target, her head tilted down a bit as her lips moved slowly into position and her teeth are slightly revealed...lips then pursed and she tilted her head up a bit as the light from above her captured her.

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Face the Truth – Not the Media’s Lies

Questioning your vision of reality is scary – but its a fear that must be addressed. Its safe and comforting to believe that war is bad and that all people should be treated with the same liberties as written in the laws and the constitutions. They believe that no one should be tortured, imprisoned or […]

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Don’t be Afraid (poem for a friend)

Every ending can be looked at through the eyes of wonder or the eyes of fear. Not to sound like the memes and the positive sayings we always see posted around the social sites – seemingly by desperate people searching for some affirmation that shit happens for a reason. But I truly am a witness to the shit happening and I can tell you that when one door shuts you are slowly led into a room where there are several doors for you to choose from. Nothing needs to be permanent or forever – let your heart lead the way and the door will open for you leading you to another stop on the whirlwind of life. You have it all inside of you and outside of you – never forget that its the surroundings that benefit from your presence.

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The Dozen Roses

He heard the footsteps behind him.
Time was flying – soaring and blowing in circles.
He checked the time on his phone – he was 5 minutes late. Tanya would be probably 20 minutes late so he was early.
He heard the sounds of the subway above him on the elevated platform and then saw the sparks falling onto the streets below him.
He was walking quickly, a dozen red roses under his arm and a derby cap upon his head.
“Tanya.” When he said her name to himself he felt the soft touch of her lips…upon his lips. Love can be that way – just a sense of her scent and he would find himself hurting. A nagging pull inside of him causing a fire in his gut…a flame that is doused only by the touch of her lips upon her lips, her hand inside his or the sight of her eyes looking into his….
He found himself across from the Franklin Hotel in a park, sitting on their bench, the one that was dedicated in memory of David and Diane by their loving children. He checked his phone for a message or a missed call. Nothing there.
He watched as children ran across the grass, dogs ran and played and the day came to an end.
Tanya…she said she would be on time now he is just wondering if she will ever show up. An hour and then a half…
His phone beeped – a text message.
“Sorry – I cannot do this anymore…goodbye.”
He stood up, lit a cigarette, left the roses on the bench and walked away.
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Clouds like Time

They come out of nowhere. Blue skies and then suddenly clouds begin to form. At first they are all separate and take on their own shape and form – but suddenly the come together strong enough to block the sun or any sense of warmth or perceived warmth. The wind picks up and the dust and the loose trash begin to swirl and the first drops begin to ascend from the dark clouds.

That old coal train whistles in the distance and stops. The workers from the nearby plant walk off slowly. Cigarettes dangling from their lips or suspended between two fingers.

The old man who lives in the cabin is there to meet the train that comes and goes once a week.

The pages of a book are turning quickly, the hands on the clock on the courthouse on Main Street are spinning out of control.

The old man and woman sit on their porch taking it all in.

The children race the train as it slowly leaves the old man and the station. They stop running as the lake looms ahead and the dark clouds have covered any sense of blue or daylight.

Suddenly the clouds that formed have turned into a time machine…

The station is gone, the children now sit on their porches watching as the clock on main street, still out of control dictates the rhythm and speed…

The clouds, in formation, have left the sky and the cool night has fallen…the screen door slams shut.

It comes out of nowhere, the years they formulate and dissolve quickly, one by one…

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I Want

I want to live my life based on peace, love and understanding. I want to look into the eyes of strangers and not judge them, even a little bit, based on their religion, race or beliefs.
I want to live a life based on love.
To sing songs like, “All you need is love,” or even “Masters of War” and believe wholeheartedly in the words I am singing.
I want to fight for the innocent women and children being raped, killed or perhaps even worse, kept alive, starved for food, air and freedom, in a lifeless life. In an uncaring world.

I want to tell my French friend that Jews do not dislike the French, that we do not begrudge the fact that 35% of the French people think “Jews today, in their own interest, exploit their status as victims of the Nazi genocide during WWII,” and 25% stated that “Jews have too much power in the fields of economy and finance.”
I want to be proud of the President of the United States for leading the world towards a better world. I want to say that Islam is a religion based on Love. But tell that to the millions of people who have had their lives turned upside down by cold blooded murder in the name of their prophet.
I want to believe that it is religious extremism across the board needs to be addressed and discussed. But it is not religious extremism it is Islamic Extremism only, that has brought us to live in a world where fear and vigilance have become words that surround us on a constant basis.
I want to tell Israel to take down the walls, to just get over the murders, the bombs, the rockets and the destruction of peace in their lifetimes, in their homeland. (Which, by the way, is 1/19th the size of California. It is only 260 miles at its longest, has a 112-mile coastline, 60 miles at its widest, and between 3 and 9 miles at its narrowest! Surrounded by land occupied by 22 Arab states 640 times the size of Israel.)
I never wanted Israel to destroy Gaza; but no country in the world, hell, no person living in a home that is constantly being bombarded with an aim to destroy, would show as much restraint as Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli Army did.
Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of sexual orientation. Freedom to assemble and to protest, to demonstrate and to mock or satirize anyone. That’s Israel.
Netanyahu, in his Christmas message to the Christians in Israel stated, “Here in Israel religious freedom is a sacred principle. Israel’s Christian citizens enjoy the full blessing of freedom and democracy. Their equal rights are enshrined in Israeli law.”
There are so many websites, news organizations and social site impostors who post and write about destruction caused by the U.S. and other democratic countries and equate them with the Islamic Jihadists and the Arab countries that bankroll them. There is a difference.
The United States and its Allies are fighting against terror, against evil and against a ideology that is based on the destruction of all freedoms, lives and civilizations.
The destruction of peace, love and understanding.
I want to, I want to love all peoples.
But more than that – I want to live, I want to be free from the vigilance and fear. I want to be free – and I believe that freedom should be fought for and should even be the excuse for war.
I don’t want war – I really am a lover of all people. I want peace.
But if it’s a choice between killing or being killed…I am going to do whatever it takes to live.
A world without freedom, a world filled with fear and destruction is not a world that anyone should be part of.

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quand cela se arrêtera (When will it End?)

In a city full of beauty, in a country full of life and a culture full of art and love – strangers have set foot upon the land – where poetry thrives, artists dream and music is composed.
They are burning the books and bringing the flames of hell upon the people…
They are covering the beauty so no one can see it and be tempted to take it away…
Children are shaking, the windows are breaking and the thunder is being silenced once again.
When will it end?
This hatred that is spreading like a cancer?
When will it end?
These questions which have no answers?
When will it end?
For the artist, the lovers and the romancers?
quand cela se arrêtera?
quand allez adorer revenir à la maison et dépasser la haine ?

Pardon my French – I used google translate

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A Piano an Old Man and a Song 4 U And Me

I walked into the ballroom – surrounded by tuxedos and long revealing gowns. An orchestra was playing a song from Our Town. People stood together, as if protected from their fate. I looked towards the door, but I knew it was too late.
Too late to leave, too early to stay.

Play me that sad song the one we used to play.
Song called, “Evergreen” from another lifetime ago. Do you remember the way I held you as we danced so slow.

Where are you – is it too late for you to get here?
Is it too soon for you to believe?
I can see you standing against the wall – would you like to dance with me?

A piano is playing, an older man tickling the keys. playing a song for dancing, playing a song for you and me.

“Touch me in the morning…” We stood close together, through the window we can see the stormin’.
“Then just walk away…” Your arms around my neck, my arms around your waist.
“We don’t have tomorrow…” I kiss your lips, I feel your tongue…
“But we had yesterday…” The piano stops and the orchestra is silenced.

The doors open and we walk our as one – tuxedos and long revealing dresses, piano man and the storm.

I put my arm ‘neath yours – you place your head on my shoulder. The orchestra begins to play a song as we walk through the doors. The music fades as we walk in the rain – we walk towards a tree and we stand beneath it. The roots of our love keeping us warm – keeping us close.

Lightening and then Thunder – striking 100 times for you and me. While the old man sits by the piano – playing that old song for you and me.

Together through life – each other’s stories run together like the days and nights of our time…our tree has blossomed and its growing so fast – if we don’t have tomorrow our yesterday will keep our memory alive forever.

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Senses

I can hear the trains running along the tracks – right by the outskirts of town.
I can hear the sounds of the birds, the dogs and the crickets.
I can hear your voice telling me you need to leave.

I can see the stars shining up above decorating the night.
I can see the waves breaking wildly onto the dunes.
I can see your lips moving telling me you need to leave.

Where are you going and why can’t I come?
Where are you running to and will you ever come home?

I can smell the flowers blooming in the garden right beneath this rounded porch.
I can smell the lake just rained on from across the way.
I can smell his cologne on you as you say goodbye.

I can feel my heart breaking into bits and pieces.
I can feel my brain about to explode.
I can feel your hand letting go…

Where will I be going will love come back some day?
When will she show up…where will I be?
Who will she be wearing…no masks please…
What will I say to her…can I ever be free?

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Remember?

Remember?
I came back home last week, big greyhound bus and a backpack full of clothes. That bus rode in on Main Street, that old coffee shop was closed.
I walked across the park and stop by that old oak tree, the one where we carved our initials and climbed on – its still standing tall, our initials are hard to read but still able to see.

There were some kids playing tag and that tree was the safety base…if they only knew the things we did together up above or down below…I can still feel your embrace…
Its been such a long, long time since we walked hand in hand, do you remember?
Does it mean as much to you as it does to me?
Its a strange, strange story – how time just rumbles past us and we find ourselves alone despite the crowds of people.
Its a strange but comforting feeling knowing that the tree is still there. Sort of a confirmation that we did live the life I remember and its not just another story.
That we were together, long nights and my feelings are true and not some made up memory.
I find myself falling at times for the same old lines, the same old attractions, her scent, her voice, lips and touch…but then I remember that she is not you and its just a temporary glimpse into what can never be…
I came back home the other day but its not home anymore…my family is gone, moved on to another town in another city. Tom, Sue and Billy are gone as well to another town in another city.
I walked around and hoped that magically I would catch a glimpse of you again…but all I saw were the smoking ravages of a heart dragged on the road – skid marks of blood and love wasted…
Home is not home.
Home I have no home.
I am alone…sweaty air choking me and I dream of you holding me.
Home I have none.
Home is a place I call where I don’t feel so scared and alone. With apron string love and the scent of something in the oven.
Got on the 11pm bus back to New York City…as we pulled away I saw that old oak tree and I could swear I saw you waving to me…

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Watch “Freddy Zalta and Matthew Silver union square” on YouTube

Freddy Zalta and Matthew Silver union square: http://ift.tt/176H0ro

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Some silly Videos

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Why, How and When?

I am walking towards a park to feel a sense of life and to await my companion. I walk past countless familiar faces and potential kindred souls only to end up here at a red light waiting to cross.
“Why, how and when?”

The park was alive on this cool October Thursday evening, well, almost evening. I walk across the grassy field, under the trees and upon the fallen leaves which decorated this ground. It once was green and now its an unpleasant brown. I walk and I kick the leaves, feel a breeze and I pull my coat around me. Squirrels are hoarding, birds are chirping and a sole singer is singing a song about Moondances and October skies. This grassy area is surrounded by benches occupied by loners who while the day away with pen and paper.

School children, set free from the prisons they occupy 8 til 4 every day – run wildly, some singing, some screaming, some crying and some laughing. Parents are all in otherworldly mindsets filled with questions…
“Why, how and when?”

I walk towards an empty bench and sit there with my pen and paper. Whiling the time away ’til my love gets here hopefully right on time.

A lone ice cream truck playing a familiar tune hoping to hypnotize the children into begging for a cone, or a cup of Italian ices…but even the kids know its too cold and too late for that and he starts his engine and drives away.

I’ve been a loner, I have been a loser and my heart has been broken, taken out, cleaned and put back in…with nothing but a scar that runs down my torso as proof. But I stand tall and I stand proud – “I do it my way.” I smile to myself. I hear in the next bench a couple speaking and the woman begins to cry…
“Why, how and when?”

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At the end of the Day Book 2 Chapter 7

The runway rose towards him, New York…it felt like years since he’d left less than a week ago. He thought about Pam and Mike – he needed to make things right with them. He thought about his mother and his brother and sister’s families. What happened that caused him to become so meek? He thought about his hopes and dreams – writing screenplays, novels, plays…
“Those that can, do; those who lack the balls to leave their safety zone – teach. Well, sometimes. Being a teacher has been the one place where I have found fulfillment…”

The door opened and he walked off the plane and headed to buy himself that aforementioned prepaid phone.

He knew who he needed to call first.

Pamela and Michael went to visit their Grandmother who was living in their Aunt’s house. When Michael had called – his Aunt had invited them to come. At first he politely declined and then he called back and said that barring any craziness, him and Pam would be there.

Wendy stood in front of her bathroom mirror – she looked at her reflection and into her eyes and felt so old. 33 years old and her eyes seemed to be 103…
Her phone rang, unknown number, she clicked on the “do not answer” red button and went back to feeling bad about herself.

Henry left a voice message and then headed to his house where all his belongings were. He needed to shower and change his clothes. “If that prick is there with Nancy – I am not sure who I will kill first.”

As the car made its way across the Belt Parkway he felt a need to put things in their places. First he would go to see his mother, brother and sister. Then he would call both his kids for them to come tomorrow. He would try and explain his shortcomings – apologize for being less than a man. He just hoped that he would live that long. He knew he was running out of time.

The taxi pulled in front of his house and there were no cars in the driveway and the lights were all out. He paid the cabbie and walked up to the front door, realized he didnt have the keys. Rang the bell. He called Nancy.

“Hey I am trying to get into the house but I dont have a key.”
“Where have you been? The kids have been driving me crazy.”
“The kids? Where are they?” She opened the front door.

“They took my car and went to Sylvia’s house for Shabbat dinner.” She rolled her eyes.
“They went to – why?”
“Well they have been frantic about where you, if you were still alive.”
“But they said they were going to try and come – they didnt seem like they cared.”
“Oh Henry, they love you more than you think they do.”
He went inside, called a car service, took a shower and changed. Went downstairs and saw Nancy sitting in the dining room.

“What’s up with you?”
“I was just thinking about you and me. Why don’t we stay together, you know? Whatever time you have left – let’s spend it together. I love you Henry – you know that, right?” She stood up and put her face close to his and then put her arms around him. “Oh Henry…”

He just stood there and then he heard a car honk.
“Thanks.” He simply said.
“Thanks? What does that mean?”
“Thanks for reminding me just how full of shit you are. Oh you are beautiful, sexy and the mother of my children. But you are so not for me. See ya.” He turned and walked out.

She didn’t see it, no one saw it, but he sure as hell felt it. As he closed the door he felt himself freed. He looked back at the house and smiled.

Walked into the car and told the driver where to go.

In the car he fell into a deep sleep – he woke up when the driver shook him.

“Mr. we are here. Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, sorry.” He looked outside and took a deep breath. Paid the driver and walked up to the front door and knocked.

When the door opened he saw the look in his brother’s eyes – a look of relief with a sense of fear.
“Oh my God…We didn’t know if you were…” He threw his arms around him and called out to his family. “Pam, Mikey – your father is here.”

All of the family greeted him with hugs and kisses – the last one to him was his mother.
“I am sorry mom, you were right – I was weak but now, for right now at least I am strong.” They embraced and she broke down and cried.
“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital or somewhere?”
“Apparently there is nothing to be done, Mom. But I am here now – lets just focus on that for tonight, ok?”
They both embraced again and they both broke down and cried.

Pamela was the first to address her father. “Can you, me and Michael speak privately?”
“Of course, come lets, Bobby is it cool if we use the den?”
“Yeah, yeah – just close the doors.”

“Oh dad…I am so sorry.” Pamela cried into his chest. Michael put his arms around them both and joined in the tear-fest.

They all stood there for several minutes.
“I am not going to let you down anymore – I am sorry about the time we lost. I don’t seem to have much left – but I want to spend it with you guys.”

They spoke for a couple of hours – alternating between laughter, tears, memories and hope. He told them about Aruba and his visit to the hospital there. “Apparently I was out cold and they thought I was dead. But, I guess I have some unfinished business.”

“Can you get a second opinion?” Michael asked.
“Yes I am going to – I realized I was giving up without a fight and thats not going to be me anymore. From now on, for as long as I have left I will not back down from who I am or what I believe in. Which reminds me, what made you light candles and call Grandma?”
“Michael suggested I pray for you it looks like part of my prayer has come true.”

His phone rang – it was Wendy. “Its a Wendy, I want to speak with her, is that ok?”
“Yes, tell her we said ‘hi’.”
“Wendy?”
“I didn’t recognize the number that’s why I didn’t answer before. I guess you are all right?”
“So far – listen I am sorry I left you as I did. I just didn’t want you to be hurt…when I…you know.”
“I understand and I appreciate that but don’t ever walk out on me again. Your kids are very special by the way.”
“Thank you – I know that.”
Silence.
“Wendy?”
“Yeah?”
“I wish I met you a long time ago.”
“You did, only that was too long ago.”
Both chuckled.
“I want to get to know you more…but I don’t want to hurt you; apparently it can happen at any time. I am a ticking bomb.”
“Well, I already feel a kind of connection to you but its incomplete – I’d like to get to know you for as much time as we have left to spend together.”
“Are you ok for lunch tomorrow?”
“After 12n I am good, my daughter’s father is picking her up around 11 or so and she is staying by him Saturday night. So…”
“Sounds good to me – call you in the morning.”
“Hey Henry.”
“Yeah?”
“You have a lot of people who care about you – you are not alone.”
“I know that – thanks for reminding me though.”

He came out of the room and they all were sitting and eating – he sat between Michael and Pamela and made a plate.
“Shabbat Shalom.” They all laughed and answered him. “Shabbat Shalom.” His mother smiled and he thought about his father. “Help me pop…help me get healthy I want another chance.”

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Silence So Loud

Silence so Loud
Silence…
Then…a swirling tornado, a child crying…Silence.
A waterfall so loud it echoes across the land – infinite drops of water…
Falling, crashing, being born and thrust into a whirlpool – a community of water…
Silence…
Silence so loud it can drive you mad…
Fast transportation – no patience for the journey.
Trying to catch up to the speed of time only to fall short.
Into a white lighted silence…
Love, overwhelming as the water falling into the river. Embracing, caressing…
Darkness – overwhelming as the feeling of drowning…

“Do you hear me? Do you see me? Can you ever understand who I spent my life trying to be?”

Happiness is elusive and unfamiliar when the lights are out, the silence screams and there is nothing anyone can say or do to help you.
Peace can be impossible when the voices are angry and the smiles are few.
Can you understand how far one falls without being able to see the bottom?
Can you ever truly comprehend the madness in the silence, in the darkness, in the room with no walls only windows?
Silence…
Silence so violent one can never be safe in the safety of her arms.
She cannot understand – she did no harm but she can do no good for you.
In the dark…
Silence…
A swirling wind, a tornado – the evening never ends and the cold wind never warms.

“Do you hear me? Can you remember who I was? Can you ever understand that sometimes an ending is the only remedy for an endless drop, a free-fall, in the dark…”

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