Life
forever promising more
Death
— its own reward
(Bangkok, Thailand: January, 2009)
A young man, driving from work, my car would steer,
for some panang curry and Singha beer
Chao Krung restaurant, my favorite cuisine -
and Bangkok, Thailand in my dream.
A young artist, as I well recall,
painted Bangkok at night on an entire wall,
I can still see the city lights gleam,
the other City of Angels in my dream.
We were young. My, she was pretty.
I offered to show her the L.A. city,
the Angeles forest, a Malibu beach scene,
with my new Bangkok, Thailand dream.
But in a year, we went separate ways,
though I have fond memories of those days.
A laughing God, made fate intervene,
to the back of my mind went my Krung Tep dream.
The friendly Thai people live in the Land of Smiles,
but, from L.A., it's eight thousand miles.
Can this old man, live out such a scheme,
and visit Bangkok, Thailand, a forty-year dream?
We went out after the storm
and sat on the flat roof.
A few orchids in their pots
dripped in the moonlight.
We watched vultures
circle the floating market,
while Bangkok put on
its neon mask.
You said that your village was your heart,
not this city apartment,
a place where people
disappear into tomorrow.
On the train station platform
a deluge of rain and people.
Rain fell heavily.
I could not tell if you were crying
but I knew I would be,
even as the sunshine returned.
The night was slippery, glass windows squeaked,
fingertips slipped off skin. Humidity paused
between layers of still air, only to slowly leak through.
The house was raised up on stilts
to avoid flooding in the rainy season,
even so, snakes nested beneath the raised floor.
We turned off the bedside lamp,
a mask of darkness dropped from ceiling to floor,
our breathing synchronized,
though we did not speak,
We were both trying hard
to read each other’s thoughts.
We had made love earlier.
the bed sheets were damp with a tepid fever.
Our passion had been uncentered,
it felt off kilter, tilting into a passionate indifference,
an invisible wall had risen between us,
even as our bodies curled and coiled.
It was cool on the veranda,
the dawn had climbed above the trees,
the jungle was falling asleep at last.
An old Thai lady rang her bicycle bell,
offering small sticky breakfast cakes.
I was hungry, you were not.
Later, I left for the night train to Bangkok,
when I returned
our house on stilts had walked away.
Quite An Experience
They said the Philippines and Thailand
We're both Third World countries
Yet the glittering business centres
In Manila and Bangkok were superb
Among the world's finest in design
Bringing in top revenue
Employing the best minds
Pushing what was possible
Brian worked in both cities
In his six years and counting
He was quietly proud of his career
Always doing his best getting average scores
Sometimes the highest never low
Except in the early days
When he was a new cherry
A German in Asia doing a new job
He came here for a gal
Long long ago it went from there
Flitting between countries working
Not on holiday or chilling out
Using 21st century systems
Taught by committed trainers
In time becoming a good rep
Aged in his forties and fifties
Keeping up with agents
Half his age in work and drinking
In a million years when
Brian died he would look back
And think was all that real
It was quite an experience
Gossip Kills Writers’ Cramp
Gossip Kills
Sam Adams
Often thought of the adage
That Gossip kills.
He was both a great gossiper
A great storyteller
Had the Irish wit
Of his mother.
But he had been the victim
Of malicious gossip
Over the years.
For Sam was also a player
In the game of seduction
And had broken many a heart
Along the way.
And sometimes those whose affections
He had broken with
Would return and take revenge
On him.
Returning sarcastic comments
For sarcastic comment
And letting gossip do its dirty work.
All fair in love and war
Sam thought.
While nursing a beer
In the Cosmos Bar.
In Bangkok.
The City of Lost Angels.
Sad Detritus It In Eight
Sam Adams looked back
at the lost loves
Failed opportunities
And monolithic blues
That he concluded
Was the sad detritus of his life.
He sighed and went out
To the Cosmos bar for another drink.
I
All sorts of fears
A place of tears
And all these years
I thought these letters
Strung together for a collector?
No, far from such
C O I M E T R O PH O B I A
Intimated I feared losing
Coins at the cemetery
But oops, nothing to do with coins!
II
Then capital, names, of nations can
And do raise the odd question
Does Turkey have to do with FOWL?
For "turkey," tradition thanks Native Americans
With apologies a good country
Might - o capital - sound hell- ish, I'm sorry
I don't understand H E L S I N K I
But "hell" better deal FIRE than WATER
May Finland never taste an iota of sink!
Meanwhile tourists have made me think
About BANGKOK (some business stink!)
Back in the USA, I did learn to connect
The dots for INDIANAPOLIS & Connecticut
In Africa's south, a harbour (yes, there's contraband)
Rhymes with urban, not pronounced DUR - BAN
But yes, I do pray we do begin to ban
Alcohol sales on Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays
Prayer or pipedream for old fashioned ways?
We paddle through small talk,
I like her, she has style.
I imagine we have a history together
back in an old movie that I have yet to see.
I begin to construct a lost and anecdotal life.
In another place we’re a vaudeville act
wisecracking between meal tickets.
Our home, a trunk covered in Midwest decals.
We share the occasional Spam sandwich,
theater gossip and sleaze; we cuddle
as we trundle along
long defunct rail tracks.
We date in elevators,
make out in a battered Oldsmobile.
In Bangkok, we share a ride in a Tuk-Tuk
careening down narrow streets.
On any sidewalk, we meet regularly
as reflections in windowpanes.
Today you’ve gone to Guatemala
to fight for a right.
Marimba music plays
as you climb up my spine.
Time now to rent more space
outside these traveling dreams.
A Far Cry
A far cry from home
A man sat drinking
Up a storm
2o drinks too sober
Down on his luck
Living by his wits
Down and out
On the street
Of fabled Bangkok
Just another loser
Flotsam white boy
Lost in inner space
Out of his mind
Dreaming dark dreams
As he continued to drink
A far cry from home
A far cry contest entry
May 3, 2021
The women i love is so far away.
Covid you came with a vengeance
and took everything away.
The smell of her hair,
The softness of her touch.
Traditional Thailand woman
who i miss so very much.
Its been a year now since ive seen her
But thank God our hearts
can keep so many memories.
I remember leaving her the last time
and going up the escalator at the airport,
both with tears in our eyes
and i yell out at the top of my lungs
I LOVE YOU BENJI
I think the whole Bangkok Airport stopped to smile
as she blushed red and hid her tears.
Traditional Thailand woman with a heart full of gold,her love for me is something ive never really told.
Covid you came, you separated lives
and knocked alot of people down.
The stress you have caused would make anyone's head spin around.
But we will fight you,we will win,for i will see my love hopefully very soon again.
For those with loves so very far away,
Don't give up,keep your hearts strong
and we will get through this.
Day by Day
#TreeHouseInUse stories
#ThursdayNightLadies Night
Today is Thursday and no foul play is reported yet,
We having a greenway all the way?
Hell yeah!!! It's a good day, there is no way you can not obey,
When we applaud the kings of reggae this way..
Ok, know when we explain it all to you, that this is to say
When they make it be about rolling in the hay it means somebody has to pay
Never misplace this thought, keep it contained for decades
Becuase it will be a disgrace if we keep this debate for long
For when we parade these mermaids, understand the mandate thats when we say blue tick ?
Its a checkmate
And named the first aid kid of the night
So Mr Deejay.... it's only on you now!! Mr Deejay how you bring me these drinking songs will perfectly unlock the ding dong that keeps us going, going and going for more??
Doing the sidewalk dance that makes so much sense, now that is getting late????
You can't be everywhere because we are all on sherperds good and bad clock
Hahahaha?? when its o' clock you better not, be in a hurry for that baby talk because when you in Bangkok and labelled as the preferred stock
It only means one thing
#TreeHouseInUse
This story could be poppycock
Heard cocks fight a lot in Bangkok
At first hearing this
Took an emotional fit
Cruelty is evident imagine the aftershock
We went out after the storm
and sat on the flat roof.
A few orchids in their pots
dripped in the moonlight.
We watched vultures
circle the floating market,
while Bangkok put on
its neon mask.
You said you would leave in the morning,
that your village was your heart,
not these apartment rooms,
this place where people
disappear into tomorrow.
On the station platform,
a deluge of rain and people.
The rain smashed into eyes
making it difficult to see
even to talk and embrace.
I could not tell if you were crying
but I knew I was, and would be
even in the sunshine.
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