Laos Poem

The blind man and his daughter.
He wore a felt hat. He gripped a wooden staff. His face was long and sallow.
The girl was 11. Wearing cotton, her face was solemn, shocked.
Both wore plastic flip-flops.
She held his hand.
They came to an intersection. Small buses, bikes, lost fat Europeans, orange robed wandering monks, silver vans. Women carrying bamboo baskets spilling oranges negotiated pavement.
The girl led the man across the street.
Their pace steady, yet hesitant.
She was his eyes. He trusted her implicitly.
A stranger drawing in his notebook watched them.
He pulled a 20 Kip note from his pocket.
He gestured to the girl, Take it.
She froze.
She spoke quick Lao words to her father.
Questioning, doubt, healthy uncertainty in her eyes.
The stranger gestured the 20.
She remained still.
He got up and slowly approached her. His hand extended the money.
His hand said, take it.
Her small hand emerged with caution. Her small fingers accepted the gift.
She smiled placing her hands together.
Her fingertips touched her chin meaning, Thank you.
She whispered to her father, it's 20.
His blind eyes darted back and forth.
He mumbled, Thank you, joining his hands.
His wooden staff hung in the air like a pendulum.
She led him away.

They disappeared.

Phonsavan, Laos

Short Fast & Deadly

How slow can you go?

Walk at the speed of a camel.

Design charcoal elements of crisp fire

infants scream at talking head women

driving young ones crazy

in out in out

their tongues bang like pistons

on a desultory 125cc engine propelled by virgins

returning home with their unblemished shy dignity intact.

One woman fans skewered buffalo meat to a crisp.

A Lao grandmother cradles an infant. She has diabetes Type II.

Shuddering wedding photos are frozen on a wall. It never turns out like people imagine.

They breed work and get slaughtered.

They trade hands and hearts.

She skewers another hypnotic form of laughter to preserve her ugh ugh conversation.

Fat lost European tourists waddle past.

With an accusatory tone men get smashed on weak beer.

A mechanic hammers one sharp line of description vs mundane observation.

Exile spills midnight blue Mont Blanc ink next to attention deficit disordered humans dancing 10 seconds down dirty.

Write short, fast, deadly.

Ikat silk designs drape well.

Non-listeners living abject cause and effect seek meaning with suffering and loss, accepting no responsibility.

Someone else controls their existence.

Milling Around, a fine art, embraces kindness and compassion. 

Mandalay, Burma

Life in Laos - Ice Girl

Chapter 17.

Banlung was 100 degrees with no clouds. The landscape was flat. Intermittent rolling parched Eastern hills led to a shimmering blue volcanic lake and cool shade.

To the north The Heart of Darkness flowed strong. Impenetrable jungles bordering Laos sheltered animists and cannibals.

How’s life in Laos, asked Ice Girl.

  A French doctor in Luang Prabang told me this, said Leo. He’s lived there six years. He has a young son and daughter with a Lao woman. He invested time and money to develop a guesthouse. They expanded to five properties.

They had problems. Her extended family smelled a huge profit. She threw him out. She wanted all the land. I saw her when she brought their daughter to a pre-school where I played and learned from kids. They were both fat and unhappy.

  So how does it work in Laos, said Ice Girl. You didn’t answer the big quest-ion from a small person.

  Men make the rules, said Leo. Women take care of the home, kids and money. It’s all unspoken subtleties. They do their thing. Women worship in the temples. They do their meditation. Men sit around getting drunk, discussing new night girls, ethics, morality and behavior.

  What happened to the French man and kids?

  He plotted a way to get them out of the country. He let her keep the land and buildings.

  Many people never leave their village, asked Leo. Why?

  Everything we have is here. A village maintains the other world.

  The world is a village.

  Good things happen when you take risks, she said. You risk expanding your perception. You risk losing everything in the expansion. Are you prepared to lose everything? I know the feeling, said Leo. They killed my family. I’m sorry, she said. We have to accept loss forever.

  What is the most beautiful word you know, she said?

  Kindness. And yours? Food.

  Less talk and more drawing are essential in life, she said. Experiment with circles, dots, triangles, squares, lines and curves to reach magical levels of realization. Connect the dots forward.

  The asylum is a prison and protection, said Leo.

  You create art to explore your sense of self and find out how you feel you are, rather than whom you think you should or ought to be, she said cutting crystals.

  Make the right choice for the wrong reason, he said.

  Make the wrong choice for the right reason in the right season, she said.

Ice Girl in Banlung

one door opens - TLC (end/beginning)

He escaped Turkey after fifty-one days of learning and enlightenment. He’d returned because he was curious about Trabzon. He appreciated the hospitality and kindness of strangers at ground zero.

He discovered he was too sensitive to Turkish suffering and repressed aggression.

A little luck goes a long way.

One door closes one door opens.

He felt tranquil seeing red and green-checkered diamond and rectangular Cambodian earth patterns. Small human habitats with flickering candles in windows illuminated manuscripts.

Let's go home, said a grateful cloud passing by. We know you by now.

Decompress language and your quality of life with slow steps and smiles.

Laughter and curiosity joined simplicity sanctuary and serenity.

Veni. Vidi, Vinci.

He came, he saw, he lived.

Good-bye and good luck to you and your family.

The Language Company

Zeynep the heroine of The Language Company

wisdom mind of intent

November spills blue industrial ink

Next to attention deficit disorder

All of 10 seconds down dances dirty.

Write short, fast, deadly.

Ikat designs on silk drape well.

Non listeners living their abject cause and effect seek meaning with suffering and loss, accepting no responsibility.

Milling Around, a fine art, embraces kindness and compassion. 

The final conversation of a Cambodian is, Goodbye, good luck to you and your family.

The end.

Learning how to pay attention at a private elementary school in Vientiane. Love.

Listening. Heart-mind wisdom.

Wisdom mind of intent, not the emotion mind of fire & water.

Flame your life.

The joy of sharing, motivating human potential. BE specific.

All the letting go with pure heart-mind wisdom.

Balance b/t compassion and wisdom.

Sentimental vs cold heart.

Sharing laughter, visions, stories, ideas, dreams, instinct and imagination.