Vegas Blues

Another Las Vegas poem-short and sweet

It's not what you know.

but who you do....

Quick money town,

plenty of Bull goin' down

Greenbacks change hands

like blown winds

move desert sands

Get rich quick
turn a trick,
be slick Dick

Fast money honey
Sell your soul
dig a hole-mole

Jewish stars, fancy cars
Hari Krishna porno flicks
Ain't no Arts--just dying hearts
and false starts

Lower level vibrations
Devilish incantations
only prurient observations
Walk lightly It's said
with the living dead

Not many smiling Aces

Kings and Queens

bend far to tie their laces
few happy memories
with nothing left but
traces

of life's lost

sad-empty faces….

Reviews

[FlawedByDesign]

Poignant and blunt, very nice :)

No sense in spinning the tale and not telling it how it is. It's Vegas after all - hehe - and there's a reason why we call it "Sin City" and why everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I told you I've yet to go there, but one day I will.

Good job.

[sirenribbon@thehptshirt..]

I love it, I wish you had more Vegas Love.

[Molafvt]

I spent too many visits there and found very little of redeeming value. It was fun for a while, but it got real old, real fast....! Thanks for your comment.

[Emily B]

you really don't like that place, do you?

[Molafvt]

Maybe the fact that I was staying with my parents had something to do with it, but regardless; except for the UNLV art department, the experience was draining. Thanks Emily

[Emily B]

I've missed you. Are you well?

[Molafvt]

Emily, you sweetheart. Sorry I haven't been around. I haven't had a computer and have to borrow my friends to get on line. I have been writing though and hopefully in a few months I'll have another computer and start posting. reading and reviewing again. Thanks for thinking about me. I hope your doing well yourself. My love, Murray

[Emily B]

hello, friend

[Amit Parmessur]

You write ever so well.
If you wish to be published in our ezine anytime, we consider submissions the year round.

Regards,
Golden Apple Ezine Team

Visit us at http://goldenappleezine.blogspot.com/

[Molafvt]

Thanks so much for the encouragement. I will check out your site when I have time.

[Alicia Schroeder]

Stunning write.

[Molafvt]

Thanx, but i think the word would be overstimulating. (for me anyway)

[No use.]

blunt cutting knife slicing the prurient ways of life and serving each slice to the ones easily swayed

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

raw delectable unnursery rhyme for the mad dashers of cash slashers and souls rubbed so raw only extremes will fire a spark~

[Molafvt]

Thanks doll

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaKITTY KUTABAREakaCandyPole]

my pleasure~ :)

[Molafvt]

P.S. woman, I haven't had my own computer for a while or I'd be visiting your writing. Hopefully in a few months.

[Ruth]

Everything reduced to nothing, then built up again!
Awesome shot of life mingled with myriad obsessions and decline! lol
Brilliantly voiced love!
Quite claustrophobic, in a good way!
xx

[Marie Harrison]

What a sinister write! Enjoyed.

[Molafvt]

Thanks so much Marie-good hearing from you!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

One has to wonder at the broken hearts, the broken lives, and the broken dreams of the individuals trapped within the glitter and the glam. It's very sad actually, a sad testament to the lives of so many.

Your poem brings to mind a poem by William Butler Yeats:

Broken Dreams -

There is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake - that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty - for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, "Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

[Molafvt]

I appreciate your comparison, but I don't think I am even close to Yates command of the language. Thanks though/