|
60s
& Further Guest Photojournalist
|
|
GoddessHeart
Gallery 3
|
|
Hippie
Goddesses by GoddessHeart
|
|
The Law
Says to Tell You This Site Is For 18 Years And Older - So There
You Have It. Peace. Welcome.
|
The
Poetry and Photography of Rom Tom
With an essay
on 'safe sex in the 60s' and Now!
Safer
Sex From the Heart & Spirit
by
Rom Tom of 'GoddessHeart'
"Back in 1963 when I was sixteen I decided I wanted to make love
with girls but didn't want to get any of them pregnant and have to
marry them, so I took the advice of trying condoms. The first time
I used one it broke to smithereens. The second one also broke. The
third one also broke. Well, when you are young you have powerful driving
forces. Today I could probably use the same condom every day for a
year and never have it break. Maybe I am not eating enough tofu.
Safe sex should be on our minds. The diseases are one thing to avoid.
I gave up on condoms after the first ones broke. What was the use?
But most of the young women I met were really nice women. I seemed
to be attracted to that sort more than the other. Well, by "the
other" I suppose I mean the girls who went out drinking with
the guys, all the time, always drunk or half drunk. They were everywhere
back in the sixties and seventies. Bars were full of them. To say
a half-drunk party girl was difficult to score with would be absurd.
But I didn't even like the taste of alcohol much. And long-haired
people could have scarey times in bars back in those days. There was
a real division in the culture between the drinkers/drunks and the
potheads/longhairs. The two did not mix. If a young man was going
to get a sexual disease it was more likely to come from a loose girl
in a bar who got so drunk regularly that she wasn't even sure who
was in bed with her. So I was very fortunate in that for three and
a half decades, the sixties, the seventies, eighties, and nineties,
I never frequented bars, and never (or hardly ever) had any sexual
flings with girls who make such bars their habitats.
But
I had a super abundant sexlife without any of that. Sex is a rare
flower... I was lucky that I knew that. There were little mountains
out in the desert of Joshua Tree California when I lived on a commune
there. You could climb to the top in forty minutes. Just an amazing
pile of rocks. Many such piles. They were almost more like pyramids
than mountains. A girl from the commune climbed one one day. We made
love on the very peak. There was a flat rock up there on top. We had
total sex, every way and position we could think of. In broad daylight.
It was like a supreme altar. When we got back to the commune there
was a sister washing dishes looking out the window, where the "mountain"
was dimly visible. She said she saw us up there. A few days later
I went up there with a different girl and made love again. Sacred
Sex. Somehow I had a feeling that what we were doing was truly in
the heart of God, and nothing but good could come of it. I was very
spiritual back in those days, and so were almost all of the young
women I made love with. We were sober and alert and totally sensitive
and sensual. And so the decades passed. I calculate that I probably
made love with about 300 women in all those decades. No world record
I know. But we shared some wonderful spirit.
Nowadays
people have to worry more than ever about diseases. There was no such
thing as AIDS when I was making love in the sixties. But it's deadly
today. And condoms still break, especially if you are young and vigorous.
One day I was fixing flat tires outside the Bicyclebus, and I had
a huge pile of innertubes in front of me. I cut one of them into a
length about six inches long and tied off the end and rolled it up.
Wow! What an idea. A new way to recycle all these innertubes! Homemade
reusable condoms! Just wash them out and use them again! I always
figured I would someday make up a batch and take them to a hippy barter
fair to sell. But what was the use? Hippies hate condoms! The best
way to keep from getting pregnant is switch to oral sex in the last
spurting moment. I guess that's why we are such smiley happy hippy
people.
Much
has been made about a new invention: a full-body condom: a sort of
latex bag that fits over the entire body. Both partners wear one.
They may do whatever they want in this way and never have any fear
of catching a disease. I have never tried these things, but they certainly
sound fascinating.
Good luck to everyone in your search for love and spirit."
-RomTom-
Eugene,
Oregon 2004
SISTER
OF CLOUDS
Miles under her belt
In sky chariots Cuchulainn knew her
Called forth her lightning
Roared with her Thunder
Knelt before her
Asked her advice on magic...
Love and magic were
The same thing in those days
Mother wisdom
Outlawed since Kurgan's Tophet
The new male order
Had burnt their lies into her flesh
And all she had left was her magic
And her magic people
Surrounded by the darkest clouds
The world had ever known
Cuchulainn came to her
Carried her in his arms
Together they called
And the wounded Light struggled forth
And gave the promise
But that is all long ago...
Now she is just
Another sister of clouds
She is as quiet as a windless day
When she looks upon her sisters
And upon her brothers
And upon the world
For which she has awaited
Seven Thousand year
MELTING
INTO SUNSETS
After the Nevada Rainbow four buses caravaned west
Pastel multi-colored canvases of moving metal
Talking on our CBs, we rolled on winding secondary highways
Slowly ascending long grades in second gear
Slowly descending the other side in second gear also,
Slow to keep our brakes from getting hot, slow for curves
Caravan of giant multicolored metal turtles rolling through a desert
sunset
Beneath shimmering waves of purple red eternity
Patches of blue brillianced with golden rays
Small creatures scurrying at the sound of our thunder as we passed
Watching us with serene brown eyes of God.
We arrived in the morning at the riverside hotspings near lake Owyhee
One-armed Mike's bus and
Papillon's and the white-haired goddess's and mine
Spent two days soaking in this heaven
Beatte from Italy stood in the pool in the evening
Throwing rocks for Mike's old dog to chase --
Mike's closest friend who traveled every mile with him for over a
decade…
Next time I saw Mike, years later, he was so sad
As he told me the story of how his old dog had passed this life
After so many miles, together, a dozen years of friendship shared…
What memories we have, us old road dogs…
What visions we have seen, friends we have known,
What hearts we have melted with into sunsets…
WILY
STUCCOED STARING STATUES
I.
Wily stuccoed staring statues
Flippantly flaunting stupid statutes
Plausibly plauditing placarded platitudes
Obviously exacerbating amorous attitudes
Commonly commingling with communist columnists
Political polecats and particular Parnassians...
Orgasmic octogenarian orangatangs
Wouldn't amaze me more!
II.
The little-known naked tree people of Quebec
Are a tribe not often seen by mortal eyes
They have perfected the art of carmelian disquise
To keep incursive civilization in check
When blue you can't see them against the sky
When black they are invisible in the night
Wooden, stuccoed, painted pink in suburban flight...
And neon
Through city streets
They fly...
TAUT
THY VESSEL BLENT WITH LIGHT
Up from primal pond
Taut thy vessel blent with light
Fresh the breath of life
Stretched forth in skycap bond
Soar tremulous and sure
Knowing visions beyond sight
Depart earthly strife:
Free in epiphanous azure.
Kerry Whisperheart
Come share your love with us
We meet you in the pubs and parks
We put you in our art
Echos of lives past
We've known you in them all
Dance oh heart of sisters true
Call love first and last
FLEET
HUNTRESS
Stone city fox
Fleet of foot, keen of eye Indian heritage
In your sweet French city
And the drums of your heart are loud
Stone city fox
Your drums are so loud they shake
The two hundred year old tenaments
With their crooked stairs and sagging floors
Your drums are so loud
The ground trembles wherever you pass
Stone city fox
And people catch their breath in wonder
And their eyes widen in wonder
So fast, so keen of eye, with drums,
With hurling feet you dance
With open hands and piercing eyes
First you pierce through
Then you pour love
Into the opening you have made
And leave him or her gasping for breath,
Wide-eyed and shaking...
Stone city fox
You must be the fleet huntress
Slipping amongst
The blind and forsaken
Of the whirlwinds
Taking here and giving there
Molding hope from heart
Mother of northern drums
Mother of fast-footed wanderers
Mother of the talking stick
Picture maker, story teller, actress,
In wild wilderness lake, in mud and reeds,
In stone church returning to the earth,
Even as all cities return to the earth,
You are the wilding heart
Of healing motherspirit
You are the clear spring of generations
Flowing to the sea
SACRED
CYCLES
Anke and I flashed upon the exact same idea
When first we noticed the paint on the wall
She picked the berry from a bush
Saying "It needs this to be The Sacred Cycles"
We were a little in awe at the time
Knowing this would be
An especially interesting photo
Our premonition was accurate
More women have asked me for copies of this photo
Than any other except
Estar the Lioness…
But all the poems
I tried to write about it
Reflected my male visions too much.
Then a friend,
Jamie, showed me her poem
And I include it here:
Blood
of Mists
By Jamie Leppan
Blood
shed without violence...
In times past you'd have known
Before men made it unclean,
Unspoken,
A thing to be feared
Before Maiden, Mother, and Crone
Were pushed into the mists
