Tag Archives: SE Asia

I’m over the moon

I really hate blowing my own trumpet but if someone is kind enough to do it for me then I’m happy to share what is now, after all, public on Amazon.
It takes a lot of hard work and time to write a book. Sometimes authors get it right and give pleasure to a lot of people. Sometimes we don’t however hard we have tried. When someone expresses gratitude, enjoy it, if they criticise you brutally accept it with good grace. Either way you know you have touched the reader.
At the moment I am feeling a warm glow because of the very kind words written by an Amazon reviewer. They will hopefully sustain me when the inevitable happens and some critic lays into me. Hopefully I will be able to learn from the bad reviews as well.
5.0 out of 5 stars Don’t pass this amazing book by!, March 13, 2017
Verified Purchase
Incredible, I cannot believe this awesome book was free. I learned more about Thailand in this book than all the 6 I purchased! A MUST for anyone who is even remotely interested in Thailand! Thank YOU++++

Nomads of the sea

No one wants us

For we are Moken.

Long time here yet

Still not broken.

 

Three hundred years and more,

Stateless nomads of the sea.

Skilled seafarers far from shore,

We had no home but we were free.

 

No schooling now for our children.

In sickness, we have no care.

Nomads still, we carry on.

Tourists, they just stop and stare.

 

Poorer now and losing face;

No basic rights in any land.

Exploited by this venal place;

We are just a one man band.

 

They used our skills for gain;

They made us dive too deep;

‘Nam neeb’ and dynamite destroyed us;

Now we’re just a crippled heap.

 

Poor man, rich man, beggar man, thief.

Seldom do we our stories write.

We are but nothing in this land.

But this land is ours by our birthright.

 

Even where we’ve lived for years

They will not let us call home.

Ancestral bones are buried deep

In land that we can never own.

 

Fish and forage;

Land or sea.

Shelter scavenged we accept.

Never discerning, we were free.

 

When we were young

We dived and dined.

Our great sea gave

Fish and shells and lobsters fine.

 

From Koh Phuket to Surin Islands,

Free to fish on natures patch.

Now from Surin we are banned;

No turtles, cucumber, clams to catch.

 

Without the sea we cannot live.

Sell a photo for a buck.

Embarassed, begging for some food.

Does any tourist give a fuck.

 

Thai, Burmese, Rohingya, Moken.

In the big dream many others

See the world for what it is,

Because forever we are brothers.

 

Still no one wants us.

We are Moken.

Long time here yet

Still not broken.

A Tear

A tear seeps weakly from

The corner of my eye.

Not a tear of sorrow;

Not a tear of joy.

Eyes pulled deep in sockets

Like black-holes in the sky.

Sinus working over time.

Emitting matter; head so dry.

My lungs heave

In search of air.

There’s very little

Of that here.

Will I see sunrise again.

Mountains have disappeared from view.

The hills and trees

Have all gone too.

They are all still there;

But pleasure my eye no more.

A glass-less greenhouse.

Hell’s kitchen’s core.

The furnace lit as day unfolds

Will burn for hours unabated.

By noon so hot

By eve cremated.

No rain’s been seen since November.

The reservoirs are running dry.

Just one storm in mid-December.

Canals and rivers trickle by.

The farms are parched and all that stands,

Clinging to life each day,

Are fields of corn that grips the land

Till Monsoon comes. Hope away.

Yet still by night

The fires they light.

The men who farm the very land,

To then destroy with their own hand.

 

[This is Chiang Mai 19th April 2016]

 

The Land so named

In the land that is so named

Your smile was once beyond compare.

Beneath the secrets veiled

An inner beauty pure and rare.

 

And beauty takes its name from thee.

The blazing eye of Buddha’s fire;

Thro’ Northern haze now cannot shine.

The tears run dry; the earth its pyre.

 

No fight beyond your cities wall

But inner strife that still returns.

The Buddha way will balance all;

Inside your heart the flame still burns.

 

Your people want a peaceful life;

Who rules they may not care a jot.

Be fair to every man and wife.

Power struggles, but for what?

 

You cannot say just how you feel.

You must suppress your inner thought.

No questions you may ask.

Your freedom must be sought.

 

For now your smile it sadly wanes,

Although the fire within you burns

To live and love the way you did.

Wait for the day your smile returns.

 

 

For this former contractor in Iraq, now an expat in Thailand, a picture says…

The Displaced Nation

Jackie Littletaylor portrait Canon zoom lens, photo credit: Morguefiles; Jackie Littletaylor in Iraq in 2005 (own photo). Yes, it’s a real tank, which disappeared a year after this photo was taken.

English expat, blogger, writer, world traveler and photography enthusiast James King is back with his first “A picture says…” column of the new year. If you like what you see here, be sure to check out his blog, Jamoroki.

Happy new year, readers! My very first guest of 2014 is 64-year-old Jackie Littletaylor, who, like me, is an expat living in Thailand with a passion for photography. Unlike me, though, Jackie had a past incarnation as a professional photographer in his home country, the United States, which he is now putting to use in his new life abroad.

Jackie keeps a blog as well as a travel site, where he shares information about his travels around Southeast Asia, particularly Thailand…

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