Fathers and Their Sons' Hair

This, my ode to my current state of long hair and beard:

Hair Wars
The sins of the fathers
were visited upon their children’s heads.
And so my father, like his fathers before,
swore upon the hairs of my head--
This generational declaration of war without end:
Thou shalt not decide the hairstyle of thy head beyond the confines of your own bed.

Lady Godiva labored,
The age of Aquarius I favored,
Dad stalked Mullies.
I bid goodbye to Orbison bullies.

Born among boomers,
Never fit in with the dippity-doers,
A tow-headed Samson,
I set upon my long hair expansion.

Then, the sins of my father
were visited upon my long-haired head.
And so my father, like his fathers before,
Swore this oath kneeling by his bed--
this generational declaration of war without end:
That he would never permit his son to determine the hairstyle of his head.

He wanted Elvis and Nixon.
I wanted Dancer, Cupid, and Blitze.
He used Brylcream, Vitalis, and napalm.
I used earth, wind, fire, and the f-bomb.

He cut and set the wave.
Short hair was the patriotic rage
All for the fourth of July parade.
But once ensconced beyond his gaze,
hurried hands molded a Moptop.
To punish, he chopped it all off.
After that, it grew into a mohawk,
then salmon river curls and locks,

But the sins of my father
still became ingrained within my head.
And so like my father and his father before,I got a job and shaved the locks from off my head.
And while this generational war is at its final end,
When I retire, the long hair desires will start it all up once again.
“Oh say, can you see my eyes? If you can, then my hair's too short.

[Grow it], flow it, show it,
Long as God can grow
My hair.
“[Grow it], flow it, show it,
Long as God can grow
My hair.*”

Loren M. Lambert, © February 2, 2014
* Last part borrowed as fair use and tribute to “Hair.”