The Poems of the Poet Laureate
Dolores de Alma Blanca
For in all things it is abuse and perversion that provide the greatest stimulus to development.
J. J. Bachofen
The Poems of the Poet Laureate is a collection of fifty-seven poems by Dolores de Alma Blanca, translated by Lanfranco Aceti. It was written in Paris and London between 1998 and 2000, published online by Passero in 2021, and issued in a new edition in 2024.
The Poet Laureate
Condescendence shall be my word
And my new world the ideal perfection
Of total devotion.
Here I am, naked with my sins,
Too much I loved
The human animals, the bloody commoners,
Whose songs I sang in my poems.
And I was too concerned
With their lives,
Scratching at the edge of a miserable existence:
Two pounds fifty an hour
Is the price of a devoted English slave,
Less than a cheap cup of tea,
Sipped at the Plaza, when the rain falls.
And I sang of them, lying in the streets,
Their exploited sorrows dressed with shame,
And I didn’t sing the rotten feelings,
Encrusted with diamonds and rubies
Of governmental whores.
But now, here I am, bending my head,
My velvety tongue is ready
To serve the miraculous forum,
The concoction of perfection named democracy.
My tongue is now properly shaved,
To serve, with a better service
Than this toilet paper.
Yes!, I scream.
I am all consumed by the hemorrhoids
Of Her Majesty’s dogs.
Please I won’t rhyme the name of Blair
With despair, surging from the ashes
Of a new socialist fascism.
I will be there, writing my hymns,
Vomiting honey
To hide the rotten body of this unsung Empire.
And if I did wrong,
If I had been naughty with my verses,
That was my infamous past.
Your wondrous future I want to sing.
PLEASE, ALL THE SINS CONDONATE
TO THE NEW POET LAUREATE.
Dolores recited her written work with a voice that reverberated through the house. After completing the poem, a compelling need for a note arose within her. Using a pencil, she inscribed the note with a force that was both unnecessary and overwhelming, the pencil tracing heavily on the paper, almost tearing at every moment.
This note was addressed to the presumptuously ignorant, which included editors, agents, and publishers—people in her life who consistently demanded explanations. She wanted to prevent yet another misinterpretation of the poet’s intentions. Dolores emphasized that the term “condonate” is a Latinism and cited the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition characterizing a Latinism as “an idiom or form of expression characteristic of the Latin language, especially one used by a writer in another language.” She underlined that phrase three times with a red pencil, looked at the marks, and smiled.
FROM THE COLLECTION
About the future,
I don’t give a fuck,
It’s Christmas again, I’m drunk too,
as is my driver, whispering
in-spirited words of love to me.
Please, bestow upon someone else the honor
of driving the Queen back home.
Imperial Christmas
Now, You are raised
Regina of fashion, Queen of superficiality,
Princess of immorality.
You!, are sitting on the throne
dispensing words of wisdom and hope,
elegant dreams for toads on dope.
Princesses and Toads
Don’t worry if I write from a mad house,
there is no difference,
I fancy it in here,
at least I see the walls and gates
without illusion,
and I’ve also got a new pair of wool socks
…for free.
The Cold Ashes of the Empire
Queen of Hearts is elsewhere,
this is a realm
with a Queen of Farts.
Her Majesty the Queen
The Millennium has a rope
around our necks,
and his firm grip will be the future scalpel
to shape and nurture
the next millennium’s tortures.
Millennium Rope
Life should be
a felicitous fellatio
to give to the King
once a year,
the remaining days?
paid vacations in Cuba and a complimentary pension plan.
Felicitous Fellatio
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” I said.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he answered.
I can’t blame him.
He had all the fun,
and I am still paying for it.
Rancid Rapacious Rims
The prince is there in the other room,
and here we sit,
rotting to death,
waiting…
waiting for him to come back.
How Much Would I Pay?
I don’t exist,
I wave occasionally from a saddened world,
I bend frequently to my King’s will.
Pernicious Pirouettes of Odium and Amor
That’s why I wave and smile,
wave to the higher will,
and smile at their stupidity.
100
The complete collection: Kindle · Paperback
Films: performance and art direction by Dea Dzankovic.
EDITIONS
First edition: Passero, 2021
Second edition: Passero, 2024
Online edition: OCR, 2026
Kindle edition: Amazon
Paperback edition: Amazon
CITATION
Dolores de Alma Blanca, The Poems of the Poet Laureate, trans. Lanfranco Aceti (London, New York, and Rome: OCR/Passero Productions, 2024).