Birth Of The Rebel

Hey man…I’d be your hippie bad girl…

I’d be just like my mother was, down to the core,
Free love flowing, dope smoking, protesting the war.
Rebellious soul born on Dylan & The Doors.  

Tripping through Frisco with flowers in my hair.
Dancing topless in the park without a care.
Just the word LOVE & the symbol for peace painted on my skin so bare.

I would’ve been hanging with Abbie, Kesey, Leary,
Questioning Authority.  
Causing trouble across the country.
Acid dropping, Black Beauty popping.
Getting’ beat up in Chicago & chanting ‘The whole world is watching.’

I would have…
Slept next to the ocean.
Lived in a commune.
Gone vegetarian.
Worshiped the moon.

I would’ve been a…
Buddhist. Hippie. Feminist. Yippie.
Civil Rights Supporter. Peaceful Protester.  
Morrison Groupie.
Vietnam Detester. LSD Ingester.  
Plaster Caster.
GoGo Dancer.
Merry Prankster.
Black Panther Financier.

In the summer of love…in 67,
Would’ve been the mistress of mayhem.  
The matriarch of madness.
The mother of Acid Heaven.  

Rolling in the grass on Red Mountain Wine & Reefer at a Love In,
Dancing at The Whiskey on the weekends.
Making love, not war…regardless, gender or the color of skin.

I would have hitchhiked to Woodstock in ‘69
And watched every band for 3 days & nights.

I would have lit candles & mourned when the great ones were lost.
Believing the movement, the music, the momentum of change would be worth the cost.


Written 2014 for the competition Birth of the rebel by Johnrot. I didn't win, but I thought I'd still share my entry here.