The Palace of Malice

On February 7, 2008 the Los Alamos County Council voted to destroy the physical symbol of the Independence of Los Alamos.

On December 21, 2010 5 Members of the Los Alamos County Council, 2 of whom voted in the affirmative in the above cited action, voted to destroy the liberties and rights of the citizens of Los Alamos and to vacate the Charter which was the codification of the Independence of Los Alamos.

The Palace of Malice, akin to Nero's Golden Palace and destined to become home to Ozymandius, will be built upon a foundation of legal chicanery, ruthless manipulation, self-aggrandizement, wanton destruction, and the wholesale abuse of Public Trust and authority --- but at what cost, and borne by whom?

Reality Check -- No community of any size can long survive the destruction of its heritage, the dissolution of its freedoms, and the permanent division of its citizens.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

18) What Los Alamos Really Needs

Okay, now for something a little tongue in cheek.......Warning! This is a bit risque and your children should not be reading this................ (I have edited out the somewhat more, ahem, descriptive parts :)

There is one business that Los Alamos needs more than any other. It is a business which will totally, radically, alter the social/cultural milieu and character of Los Alamos forever (or until it gets closed, which ever comes first). The following is a bit of "poetry" (blank verse, free verse, no verse, whatever, just get into the flow of the thing) that I wrote several years ago after an evening of poetry reading at a coffee house that was two blocks from where I lived in Palms -- in my bachelor days. I've been meaning to read it at a local poetry reading they have here, but......well......... (I'll do this in paragraph form with a / to indicate the line breaks)
"Polite Society"

I am a bit too old / and a bit too jaded / for this. / An evening of poetry. / Drinking exotic coffees. / Making polite conversation. / Eating French pastries / in a smoke-free environment / with oil stains hung on the wall / which reflect someone's vision / of something (I'm not sure what). / Surrounded by fresh young faces / with bright eyes / and glorious idealism. / On stage a lovely young lady / peaches and cream skin / lithe, nubile form / lilting voice / and sparkling eyes / which reflect a virginity / that is more than sexual. / Such sweet naivete / weaving fancies of utopian bliss / with callow cadence / decrying social failings / with ponderous pentameter. / Polite drawing room clap. / Burgeoning sophistication. / The Polite Society of Tomorrow. / Was I ever that young? / A callow dreamer / looking out from the window of a sheltered life / gushing of Love and Social Perfection / in torrents of verbiage / twisted into clever contrivances / finding "The Meaning of Life" / and calling it Poetry?

I need a damn cigarette / and a good Dive.

A smoke filled / dim lit / Dive. / A place where you can swagger / a place where you can brag / a place where you can forget / a place where you can get your throat cut. / Populated by denizens of shadows. / People who have stories to tell / and the good sense not to tell / who have walked down the back alleys / that polite society knows nothing of / and have moved through fog and dark / with grace, cunning, and daring / haunting the night / with haunted eyes. / Their voices, male and female / have a hard edge / reflecting the edge on which they live. / They do not discuss / "The Meaning of Life" / They live it.

The true netherworld. / With a stage in one corner / a stage with a woman. / A sleek stripper /..[edit]...../ whose sweat glistens / in all the right places. / There is something esoteric / in a stripper's sweat. /......[edit]............../ She gyrates in slow motion / to a raspy sax / the smoke in the room / providing her only veils.

A hidden Dive / with an alley door / and a pool table / in eyeshot of Salome. / A green felt playground / for the hard bitten / who wager their dollars / and souls / on the drop of the eight ball / under a harsh light / and the scent of Salome's sweet sweat. / Bump and grind and the clack of balls / a well turned form and a well turned cue / and eyes of hard steel ponder the possibilities/ .........[edit]...................

A dusky Dive. / A dark world / wherein hover the shades of poets / Milton, Dante, Poe, and Wilde. / But the only readings done here / are the backs of playing cards by sharps / or the fronts of tarot cards by gypsies / and the careful sizing up / of one's current company.
You get the drift. There's a bit more imagery "ivory on felt..... Salome on satin sheets..the pungency of alchohol, tobacco, and sweat......lonely walks, dark alleys, rising fog, heavy silence broken by a passing train or a cat in a trash can..... slipping into the night listening to the steady rhythm of souls echoing off pavement and the ebb and flow of traffic......." with a contrast to "Polite society, genteel sophistries cloyingly correct".

Maybe someday I will read it to the local poetry society -- without the edits. But for now,

Los Alamos needs a damn cigarette and a good Dive.

No comments:

Post a Comment