Under the Tropical Sun
The streets of the dusty tourist town were full of banter
locals gibbering back and forth. tourists lured by the
scents of ginger, lemongrass, and garlic; added to the
pork and chicken frying in the sinful yet delicious
oil. Frangipani blossomed in the trees, the scent
a reminder of heaven on earth. A cover for the
evil hidden from view. A world of trafficking that
no one speaks, young men owned by ex-pats
priced for the bidding. High on ICE to turn a
trick, beaten, and raped in the darkness of their
tormented lives. No one cares and all hope is lost
speak up and be sent to prison, to be killed, it was
their wish. The voice of a martyr and all for what?
to protect the innocent from what happened to you.
tears of shame become the smile of tomorrow.
see the pain on his face and the suffering on
his arms. write the stories of what was seen, and wish
for a day when all is not lost. To live in a world where
those who suffer can be free from the nightmare of a
living death.

John Ganshaw retired from banking to follow his dream of owning a hotel in Cambodia. He saw a world that changed his lens forever. John shares his experiences through poetry, essays, and a memoir in progress. John’s work has appeared in Dreich, Runamok Books/Growerly, Post Roe Alternatives, Fleas on the Dog, OMQ, Free the Verse, eMerge, Unapologetic, Wingless Dreamer, and others.