Chiang Mai Run (day 2364)

Here I was, settled Chiang Mai
Moat circles and rotee midnights
Two wheels of 4 speed steel
And Seven Pounds for a beer
As Chang takes the stage
For a little place of my heart
As we burn one down.

Nakinee and who we are
Wat Umong steps to sacred earth
For who we are is who we are
We state our place and live our earth
Unending ouroboros in rebirth
Mounting Wat Pha Lat daybreak hike
Take my hand and let the sun
Mae Sa waterfall forever run

Whenever time ceases to tock
Left turn down a dusty road
Find ol’ Tanin Market stalls
Warorot for new shoes
And by nightfall make sure to be
At the sauna for a steam
For if you do the walking street
You’ll run right out of things to buy
Coconut and metal chang
Iron bell and another tee.

And in the morn you’ll know I’ll be
At Jikko for an espresso pulled
Through Akha Ama finely ground
Strumming out a song I know
With some friends who sing along
Starting off the day with fun
Khao Pad J for a quick lunch
Thus a day begins again.

Napkins (day 1622)

Ladders have begun
To disseminate my mental state,
Unpacked and re-packed
Long term storage boxes,
Dusty cardboard napkins.

Zigzagged metropolitan markets
With wicker baskets lined
With checkerboard napkins
And leftover spices
Under soiled paper napkins.

This night train is lonely
When the lights flicker just so,
I spend spare moments of memory
Re-reading the same four lines
Written on a folded square napkin.

Well Worn Booths (day 901)

I was at the market
Surfing along well worn booths
Passing by idle buskers
Thumbing old good luck charms
Worn away

Here I smelled service
The toils of seven generations
Sweating in the fields
Sending wives to sell
Gnarled stone washed fingers

It is romantic
Startling romance amongst
Brutal ages
Suffering humbly
Expressive humility

And at night
Late at night when
Stray dogs find moving shadows
I wonder who
Sleeps more peaceful

Riga - 201209 (596 of 605)

Stocks (day 564)

Stock market fury is hardly comparable
Its ups and its downs
Make up the excitement
However, the flat, dull tones of
Flat lining charts
Leave a bitter taste
Stinking up my mouth
Forcing me to move on
As a tidbit of wisdom
Ignore the futile attempts
By promoters to announce
Unprecedented results
Of which nobody cares
Except big-wig sales men
Hoping to scrap together
Something of their career
Some little morsel of hope
Keeps them hanging on to
5 percent profits
For ever and ever
Until the end of time and beyond
But, the trader, the trader
He’s fueled with desire
He’s running with fire
Riding the backs
Of the ups and the downs
Each with their own
Grand scheme of sure victory
One may be right
The other one wrong
But balls to the walls
All look the same to me
Look for the singers
Mind the gap of the droppers
Buy into the trend
Sell into the trend
You’ll never manage
In spite all your predictions
To sell at the top
To buy at the bottom
Be happy with a gain
Just not 5 percent
Forget about your losses
With one swift action to sell
Ride your winners
With sharp pointy spurs