Recreating the mid seventies
With the Delfonics
Alive and Kicking
Snafu and String Driven Thing
Bedsitter land imagined
on the suburbia lengthwise
red duvets changed frequently
It seems so damn unfair
to live in the past
and today
the songs don't have rhythm
tattooed bards
by the wayside
so waif like
sing out their DNA
T his the mid-seventies, California,
O akland Airport Hilton Inn, town aura,
M idst Oakland Stadium Complex, airport.
H ospitality Senior Special sort.
A t nineteen, I worked as a front desk staff,
N ear my location was the bell desk half,
K ept trim, per red suit, white shirt, a red tie,
S taff, gender-neutral, a naval suit, tie,
T he shirts meant an opt--mines stayed pink or white.
H e completed Skyline High, uphill site,
E nrolled some Hayward college, Chabot's there.
B ellhop often nights and days rather ne'er.
E vanescent guy while he graces us,
L ikable persona, a combined plus.
L ife of the party sort-of-guy on work,
H otel perceived for stars, plus times, some jerk.
O pie--Ron Howard, filmed roughly one month,
P roffered Hollywood, that bellhop, his front.
L ifetime scores, Splash plus, Apollo 13,
I n collaboration, Tom transpired keen.
F rom Cher on Sidney Portier, Jackson Five,
E verly, Righteous Brothers, Supremes, live!
Date: 08/17/2019
In December of this year I turn eighty two
And I feel every darn year through and through
Seems like yesterday I was only twenty one
Full of sass knowing life had just begun
At forty two I was still going strong
A few grey hairs but getting along
At sixty or so my pace had slowed a bit
A few aches and pains but still feeling pretty fit
Nearing seventy is where I think I first hit the wall
Noticing my gate had slowed to a noticeable crawl
The mid-seventies found me my physician’s best friend
With ailments and office visits and drugs he would recommend
Now as I prepare for my next birthday complete with aches and pains
I look back at the beginning realizing only a shadow remains
But I’m not angry or depressed as life doesn't owe me a thing
Now I spend my time wondering what the next adventure will bring
EVIL Exists; Utopia Does Not
You may remember them--
a wildly-diverse band of individuals--
a strange ensemble comprised of
various races, age brackets,
backgrounds, and philosophies.
By the mid-seventies the philosophies
had been replaced with one mindset, that
of a leader with irresistible power
who compared himself to Jesus Christ.
He banished societal norms some followers
had brought with them, replacing them
with his own. Many in this insulated
community didn't seem to realize they
were not in the utopia they'd been promised.
Now, close your eyes and try to see them--
hundreds of them--parents, their many
children, friends, and lovers--lying close together,
some with their arms around each other,
looking so peaceful after partaking of
Jim Jones's cyanide-laced fruit juice.
Guyana, South America, 1978, the Jonestown compound
909 dead--about one-third of them children
Jim Jones, one of the most notorious cult leaders of all times
written June 27, 2016, for Brian Davey's Evil Is Everywhere Contest
Flower Power was an ongoing craze
That was way back in the 70s days.
War was raging; folks were talking jive.
Young military men fought to stay alive.
No spiffy crib for those Viet Nam dudes.
They camped with Jack squat fighting governments feuds.
Back home, truckin’ was the name of life's game.
Hunks and chicks kept their hormones aflame.
Trips to Woodstock in a shaggin’ wagon.
Smoking their pot like a lit up dragon.
Casanova wannabes got stoned on dope.
Parents back home could barely cope.
To young folks, then, good times were b****in’.
Each went for their dreams burnin’ an’ blazin’!
Rock on brother; life was not a rip-off.
Life was groovy; love was just a spin-off.
© February 6, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
THE DECADE OF THE HIPPIES! (mid-sixties to mid-seventies)
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Talk That Way
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
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