When the parlor door opened
it wasn't heard
floating over their heads like banana smoke.
But the looks came
regardless,
taking bites out of places in our arms
as we passed
chewing loudly as if they hadn't been rude yet.
Bob Dylan was the music to set the scene
but if the jukebox knew
it might have played louder,
filling the cockles of our hearts
with warm liquid sound,
Cinnamon coffee spilling down our shirts
as we swayed
away...
"How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?"
And they couldn't touch us.
We were emitting radiation
which burned to watch,
as the flower children
talked of demonstrations
and women's studies, addition to curriculum,
and birth control releasing like a freedom
to be obtained at a small price,
we decided not to have kids
after all.
"The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind."
They whispered 'derelicts'
we shouted 'anti bandwagon liberty'.
They pushed the word 'beatnicks',
we replied 'beaten into submission'.
Their fathers made bombs with their hands
and if our fathers did
they weren't our fathers.
"Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?"
At the mention of the LSD survey,
Becky with tie dye knees highs
and orange braids
yelps and slides off her seat
if this meant she wasn't
subject to the Pigs,
it might have been her saving grace.
But it was foolish
to think innocent Becky
with blue, and yellow braces
was not subject to the Pigs
on the account of an accident.
"The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind"
They came at us like
criminals,
us
in peace bearing clothes
softly stirring in conformitys' protest
will not be one with the system
will not be one with the skin.
The pigs squealing
wildly
mechanically
rehearsing our rights
and Becky spat on one
looking like a gremlin with her clenched braces.
Our lives were
blowing in the wind
so delicately
that they dare disrupt
or steal a moment
like killing a dandelion
by carelessly blowing it without thought
to fate.
So they took us away
and committed a quadruple homicide on
our freedom, which splayed in tie dye trails,
each stain like blood
upon the bar stools.
No one sat on them for days.
Author notes
The pieces of quotations, stuck randomly in the middle are from bob dylan's 'blowing in the wind' This idea came to me from the four black people being removed by the police and arrested in 1960 for them not paying attention to the sign, "whites only" in this case I switched it around a little.
In a list
A contest entry
- WHERE IS DA VINCI? by Dalaney.
600 points, ended September 15, 2007, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Best by butterflytears.
380 points, ended September 10, 2007, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Give me your best Prewrite by Starz of Heaven.
550 points, ended September 8, 2007, 13 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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you know i love this. nuff said.
lane
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This is really good and a bit of history for me
Thank you for your entry and goodluck in the contest.Best Wishes
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im very impressed.... and if im not mistaken the incident your talking about happend right down the road from me...... in philadelphia mississippi... 30 mins away from where im sitting right now...... i like this piece alot... i should come back and give it a better reviewin
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Encore! Encore! Barvo! Bravo!
This is absolutely fantastic, and I think, one of your best pieces yet! "Cockles of my heart"; now, there's a phrase you didn't hear that often in modern conversation. Yeah, the term is so old that it actually dates back to the 1700's and further on back even still. You know, I actually used that exact same phrase in my poetic, "Tyrant," which is currently psoted on here, in case you'd like to go have a look at it. Anyway, this poem is really a time capsule for the events that took place in this country back during the Vietnam War back in the Swinging 1960's. And I especailly like how you incorporated a line of thought from an old....I thin it was a Bob Dylan song?....."Blowing in the Wind." Anyway, congratulations for penning such a true masterpiece of poetic perfection. Reviewed by ADB5121967.
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I'm impressed with the ambition ...
... of someone as young as yourself, attempting to write about the turmoil of the 60's, Alexandra. I very much liked the line about "taking bites from our arms" ... that is clearly your unique powerful voice shining through. Also, the banana smoke makes a visual impression. After this I thought the poem began to wobble as you fell into telling, more than showing. Also, one as young as you wouldn't know this, but we hippies did not drink lattes back then. Cinnamon coffee would have been the drink of choice. Final assessment ... A for effort, but I hope this poem drives you nuts insisting you modify it over the years until it's perfect.
Brian <<<--- A60sMan -
I think I'm going to have to
work a bit harder if I am ever
to be as good as you...This is
awesome. Plain and simple.
Lane -
Another quite interesting write from my crazy sister, brings back memories to me as in the mid 70s, in Houston I dated a lovely Lebanese gal who, in the late 60s, was not permitted in the whites shower on Galveston because she looked 'too' dark. Sad, very sad...
len
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