Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

(revised) ....

vegas interrupted your dirt road
stratosphere tower was a funny little pencil
so you came down the hill to gomorrah
to a clatter of deranged bell-beeps

dust was caked on the rig in thick gobs
on layers of detritus, squashed containers
augustus pablo cranked on the tape deck
no match for the towering, mad gleam

you jogged the strip, whiskey in the water bottle
met a huge lady from ohio with a log cabin purse
by a giant slot machine with ten foot tumblers
jokers with satanic goatees jumping out

hissing sounds came from the casinos
serpentine towers like gold funhouse mirrors
best to sail on, back to the craggy scrub
the same road cut off by hubris and haze

fear and loathing hits the jack pot

definitely was a "savage journey into the heart of the american dream" ....

Dr. Hunter Thompson is dead & gone, but the chronicler, Mnaz, is still lively & kicking cans!
Loved this poem. Mnaz, You've picked up Hunter's gauntlet. The gonzo continues!

if it wasn't for...
would it ever be..?
but since it's there
enjoy the where
before it went...

good one, mark... enjoyed!

thanks steve. thanks cec. this was also a prose piece I did awhile ago. my inspiration was .... well, the unique way i typically arrived in vegas during my long road binge, rattling into town on dust-ridden trails. i mean, nobody comes into vegas like that !

my favorite part is the dust-caked truck "juxtaposed" (big fancy word) with the "towering, mad gleam" ......

the freak show camouflages
the house always wins

hunter s. used the place as a metaphor for (among other things) crass american materialism and blight ... which is not too far off, it seems to me ....