Month: July 2007

A curvaceous wanton devil-woman…

Wicked

•

auburn mane with sable streaks
frosted ermine — lush with pride
a bounce and whip, and tiply snap
with each stiletto’d wanton stride

taught hips roll on slender stems
that part in ripples then enmesh
a brushing sigh of stirring heat
toned thighs gliding flesh on flesh

a stare of comely crystal blue
floats above a ruby pout
that takes you in devouring
has its way, then casts you out

tongue tip teases top lip’s edge
like supple paintbrush flowing
a smile to burn and hypnotize
that wraps around you knowing

a luscious wench — worldly wise
sleek as steel — tall and strong
swift and cunning, motor running
she might acquiesce, but not for long

poor fool who tastes this lusciousness
is hopelessly addicted
there’s only one word for this life-force
that word, my friend, is — wicked!

…

rob kistner © 2007

This week’s prompt, “Hair” is extremely well timed. On my 60th birthday, my wife and son successfully orchestrated a surprise party for me. As part of the surprise, they dug up a lot of stuff from my many years in DooWop, R&B, and Rock bands.

One of the things they dug up was a small handful of surviving lyrics I’d written back in the 60’s; among them, these lyrics I’m including as part of my July 15th response, to the Sunday Scribblings’ prompt. They also dug up a few old photos (see one above).

These were written when I was still in high school. They are rock lyrics, and not terribly polished, but they are earnest. These words came from the bottom of my heart, at the time.

What’s important to realize is, in the Midwest United States, there were very few long-haired bands. We were called freaks and hippies — taunted, accosted, sometimes even beaten for our hair. Our hair was a very powerful and dangerous statement for us to make at the time. It threatened conservative America.

There were a great many places our band would play were we did not dare walk the streets, unless as a group, including with our roadies — a couple of pretty tough dudes. I also played football, so I was reasonably able in a fight, but we still adhered to “safety in numbers”.

We were expressing our right to be free, and we were expressing our opposition to the war in Viet Nam, and the general intolerance and prejudice that was prevalent in those times. Our hair was not only us speaking out as free individuals, it was also a political and social statement.

Those were very “strange days”! Our hair made us targets for considerable verbal and physical abuse, but we were committed to our statement of freedom.

Anyway, following here is a photo of me from the 60’s, which I attempted to restore digitally. The hair is tame by later day standards, but in the mid 1960’s, in Middle America, I was threateningly radical.

Below are the lyrics to “Flowin’ Free” which I penned at age 18. They are not here because they are great verse, they’re rather shallow and naive. Rather, they are here for their nostalgic interest, and their relevance to the Sunday Scribblings’ prompt for today.