Tranquility

Sandman flow waves
Flat line horizon
Tattoo queries with That Song in Sin City

Dancing orange sunset light
Collapsing blue waving rhythm
Flow

New water sparkles light waves/particles
Sparrow wing free flight wing seashell

Gauguin’s primitive visions - imagination

A shudder passed through his body tingling every nerve cell.
It was predicted by a long deep slow meditative breath

this inhalation staring at blue green gray waves

emanating from a flat purple horizon line.

Every afternoon is the same after four winds dance waves

Glitter, details, flow, tranquility, Wushu focus

Wind dances waves. Turbulent music.

Chinese visitors hide under umbrellas

gripping wrists walk the shore staring blindly at white Europeans on sun beds sucking beverages.

Dazed and confused by everything

shrouded women wear gaily painted floppy hats, sunglasses,

face masks devour their faces, shawls, long sleeved gloves and blind terror.

Self easy foam at the mouth.

The sea waved. Two white jet skis danced twirled and exploded over waves as wind pushed water.

A Khmer woman balances a large bamboo platter on head.

Light reflects bananas, mangoes yellow pineapples.

A man with a tray of sunglasses walks past with visual acuity.

In cheap mass-produced red and white soft-soled squash shoes

Tourists abandon exposure to ultra violet radioactive light

running into hard fast shade. Safe at last.

“Protect my fair skin,” they sang saving face,

a fear greater than death. Shrill echoes.

Grow Your Soul - Prose & Poems from Laos & Cambodia

Twinkle

Dive deeper than subterranean unconscious dreams.

Nail girls protected by large floppy hats seeking cuticles needing a trim canvas sand sun lovers.

String theory bracelet girls traverse grains of the universe. Boys ply sunglasses. The future is brilliant.

A girl balancing a bamboo platter of pineapples, mangoes, bananas, paring knife, plastic bags and sharp sticks prowls sand from dawn to dusk.

People watch people watching people. It's the thing - look without understanding.

A narrow blue and white boat arrives on sand. A boy throws out a rusty anchor.

Backpackers from islands unload kilos of memories, dreams and reflections.

Boatman launches five large empty water bottles toward land grab.

Mid-day sun shimmers above shaded tables as massage clients smothered with oil feel muscled women knead bronze skin tone epidermis as children laugh, run and play in surf near extreme serious a-dolts and retirees wondering how they ended up in paradise removed from frozen Europe hearing dulcimer hammers at a nearby five-story Chinese hotel cement project.

Swimmers plunge into H2O covering 70% of Earth.

Couples embrace cold drinks behind mirrored sunglasses.

Fat white Russians slobber UV 30 on skin drink cold beer discussing nuclear options against NATO.

99.9 % of beach people stare at phones.

Strangers accustomed to cement pavement feel sand. Danger.

Watch your step. Cautious sensation.

Babel languages whisper a Sappho wind oracle singing iambic pentameter odes with save face time.

Spit in the ocean.

Restless orange diamond light crashes into sunset.

Red sun white waves blue sky green islands. Floating world.

Silver waves lap shore

White crescent moon hangs by a thread

Stars sing with their light

I am twinkling

Create your life sandcastle

Rinse and repeat

A brown butterfly dances with green waves singing sand

Grow Your Soul

Process

Foreign couples wearing polarizing shades of ignorance incredulous doubt and wonder stroll sand staring inland at strangers staring back.

Walking eyes survey tables, chairs, people and eateries.

Strangers all. Scarce few see sea.

No drugs. No weapons. Leave your ego at the door.

Sweating runners with pulse armbands tread grains.

Workers set up beach lounges, switch on espresso machines, fire up kitchen stoves, hack ice, replenish beer supplies.

Waves erase footprints. Sleeping canines cur into sand.

Beach orchestra builds its daily tempo.

A young Italian woman unfolds a blue towel on sand. She lies face down. Pushing up with her arms she assumes a yoga posture eyes straight ahead on a blue green sea. Her spine weaves vertebrae like a wave. Calm centered grounded and focused.

Visitors stagger from beds, walk foam, eat, stare at waves evolving from a flat lined horizon holding green island hideouts. People plan to sit or go. Yes go. Go for a walk, a swim adventure.

1) kick boxers attack mangoes, chop ice while shifting gears after school in the wind

2) six month cradle infants wail at the hospital for a blue placebo pill

3) oven fired waffles scrapes a boy pedaling his bike seeking recycled trash before wicker baskets say hello

4) spare change searches for user value collecting cardboard images in a squall

5) red ink meets onion paper at an intersection whispering secrets without speaking sparrows

 “I want to know the truth mother. Living safely is dangerous.”

“The truth,” she said, “is that life is an absurd comic process. If you laugh you last. Our illusionary insecurities and real authenticities evolve. Life is a celebration, a dance and process of becoming. It is a beautiful harsh short messy dream come true. It’s magic. We adapt, adjust and evolve. There’s no rhyme or reason. Life is not a career, it’s a game.

Otres

Life is a beach then you fly.

You sit on a bamboo chair next to bald water sport mannequins wearing snorkeling masks, Lycra shorts, inflatable vests and dusty flippers. They are chained to the wall to prevent mermaids, nymphs and water sprite thieves.

Birds twitter in hydra grandma trees. Slow gentle blue-green waves brush a long empty shore day after day.

Across a red dirt road are bamboo and wooden shacks disguised as guesthouses and restaurants.

Signs litter little red road: Island Tours, Laundry Service, Boat Trips, Late Night Pizza, Sand Removal Renovation, Transport & More, Green House Effect with excellent bookstore…

Mushroom Villa, Dance Until You Die, My Kind of Place, Sandy Crotch Heaven, Barefoot Only the Lonely, European Spoken Here, Massage To Go…

We Serve Sad Depressed Super Serious Fat White Rich Humans Like Russian Mafia and Rude Pushy Inconsiderate Chinese.

We Are All Refugees When Everything Is Said and Done 24/7.

Digs run $15-100 a night. Gypsies, Backpackers, Europeans, Japanese and Chinese.

Selfie nirvana.

Here I am on the shore with arms raised. Here I am drinking beer with friends. Here I am all wet. Here I am doing absolutely nothing in particular and everything in general. Here I am in a sitting meditation with universal mindfulness. I am a rainbow.

Ice java runs $1-1.50 

Pay For View

Grow Your Soul - Prose & Poems from Laos and Cambodia

Life is a Beach

Overnight sleeper bus to Sin Oak Ville
The new coastal Chinatown casino royal
All bets are off

 Moto to Otres Beach
Sand sunrise defending quiet
Footprints gentle water waves beat shore
Islands

Spit in the ocean
Zen sitting meditation visions H2O
Bliss day sun water

European sun walkers white tan ageless retirees
Sound sand surf...play in water
Edges of the day from gentle morning through

Heat into restless sunset - meditation focus
Ebb and flow
Strangers in paradise...
Blue skies night 1/4 star clear

Fernando Pessoa

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Waves of love
Hang by a thread
Breath
Meditate on the truth of emptiness
Fragments
Embrace beauty and tranquility

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Grow Your Soul - Prose and Poems from Laos & Cambodia