Popular Culture Archives - Page 2 of 142

A.H. Scott: Limo

Limo

Dark windows shield the actions we hide within

As the driver opened the door to let me in

I winked at him as I entered the back seat of your ride

Long limousines have the privacy we both need

You, for who you are a public face in the media’s molten eye,

And, me who is seemingly somewhat polite and shy

Oh, who are we kidding?

We enjoy the danger

Possibility of those windows cracking turns us on

Down the avenue of wealth and comfort

You unzip my violet dress, to reveal my black bra, panties and garter

I push you away slightly and purr

As I touch myself for a short bit and am moist for sure

Soft breasts of milky white with nipples alive

Not to mention my thighs and lips quivering beneath black

You are a man of industry, who has a life in high society

Me, as the woman who works in the small art gallery

A nice ride with you is always a pleasant affair

You dive into my folds moist and pink

I sigh with ecstasy, as your laser is targeted on my point

Some bumps along the road, make our bodies bounce about

And, that’s when the real fun starts

Tailored gray suit made of finest fabric is worn by you

Was I going to be nude in that limo alone?

Oh, of course not

I held your head in place for a few more seconds

And, then it would be your time of reckoning

Pulling myself upwards, I push you onto the backseat

You chuckled and nod in approval

Getting you out of your jacket, shirt, and pants

I become a tigress and pull you by the tie

Whispering in your ear, “Let’s do it so hard, that we both cry”

Those words were all you needed and lust’s taming was not heeded

You left on that tie and had me work on your asset

Then, I bent over that backseat and you took my buns to task

A smack here and a slippery slot invaded by you

All as the limo continued down the avenue

You in your white briefs with flesh sliding in and out was divine

In the back of my mind, as we continued to grind

Was the fact that your driver knew the activities going on in the back seat

“I’m glad you pay him quite well, my seducer” ,I licked my lips as you banged me harder

You laughed and pushed further and further, “I know that treating staff well is just a price of privacy”

As the car drove through the city, I gazed out that back window with your meat inside me

When you finished doing your thing, I could hear the church bells of the Cathedral ring

Seven bells and desire was completed for both of us

I was breathless, as I laid my head on your bare chest

Hearing your heart beating so fast against my ear

I actually started to tear

You sighed and said, “So, now am I to cry, too?”

I rubbed the tear rolling down my cheek and said to you,

“Never shall I wish to weaken you, my man of mystery”

Limo rolled in front of a chosen location and we both were clothed again

As we kissed each other farewell for the night

The driver exited the car and walked to the passenger door

It was a ride I’ll never forget, just like the ones we’ve done before

Door opened and driver held my hand for departure

I craned my head downward and looked back at you

And, you gave me that wink of lust

Until we ride again………

About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/what-is-it-about-a-man/

A.H. Scott: What is it About A Man?

What is it About A Man?

What is it about a man?

Could it be his gaze?

Or, maybe the way he can put a woman in a delectable haze?

It could be the inebriation of folly

Yet, he envelopes you with sobriety

Maturity hasn’t lessened his playful air

A man’s profile is cut like a diamond so far from the rough

He’s a gem and he knows it

A lucky woman is joyful when he shows it

But, damn, you don’t want a young stud, cuz’ a man of many a season can make you howl

Young gun may think he’s got it like Flint

But, it is a man whose eye has got that certain glint

And, yes, a man can make you moan

It’s that pleasurable pop of excitement that peppers your soul

What is about a man?

He’s fun in the sun

He’s a swoon by the moon

He’s a wave hello

He’s a caress so mellow

He lets you know what he wants from a wink

A man of substance can put you on the brink

Brink of desire

Brink of hellfire

And, if a woman is wise she’ll appreciate all of it

He needn’t place a finger upon your skin to bring about aspects of sin

But, when his hands touch you, you go wild without haste

He can say something that knocks you off your feet

Even if you haven’t known him for long, he makes you feel complete

He holds your hand with pride as you walk down a street

You feel like you walk on a cloud, when a man smiles at you

He doesn’t need the big come-on to make his point

He uses the soft-sell to make you melt

Then again, it’s how a woman takes what he’s got to dish out

Now, that’s another thing she’s talking about

Bumpin’ n’ grindin’ can scratch her itch

But, damn, if she’s too forward with him, he’ll think she’s a bitch

Rounding second base can be a modest pace

Yet, could that keep a satisfied grin on his face?

Maybe yes, maybe no

But, in the end, only that man and woman would know

Soft or hard stroke is decided on what could bring forth that flow

Hellcat or kitten?

Which would make a man roar?

Depends on what sets the moment off

What is about a man?

In the end, the answer is simple

HE just is.

Milan Burnett: I Am That I Am

portrait of beautiful black model — Milan Burnett. Photo: Tony Ward. Copyright 2021

I Am That I Am

Looking back, outside of the mundane gossip and remedial conversation, there were two things that I hated to hear most while in school – “Milan, why are you so nice all the time?”, and the lackluster attempt of a so-called compliment, “You’re really pretty for a black girl!”. Being asked why am I so nice all the time always guaranteed for a quick, sarcastic remark such as, “So would you rather me be an asshole?!”. Simply because, well, who doesn’t like nice people? As for the latter, the best I could conjure up was an awkward, “Thanks, I guess?”. For any young girl growing into her teens, being called pretty by a cute boy in school was like an invisible badge of honor, one that could instantly put a pep in her step for the rest of the day. However, when being complimented gets limited to just “for a black girl”, unfortunately, that badge of honor does not wear the same.

I never labeled myself as the “pretty” or “popular” girl in school. I always wore glasses, and nothing special stood out about me. It wasn’t until I was in my late teens, early 20’s, that I realized the standard, regurgitated, concept of beauty, was just that – Standard. After tons of self reflection, and learning more about my indegineous background, I realized just how exclusive I truly was. Of course, eventually growing into my hips and womanly figure helped with that, as well. From the shape of my eyes, to the coils of my hair, to the complexion of my skin – I am exclusive – Regardless of who may feel otherwise.

Gaining knowledge of self has changed my thought process completely, making it easy for me to be comfortable in the skin I was blessed with. Once timid, shy and self conscious, I now wake up with an everlasting pep in my step, radiating an abundance of self-love and confidence. I am beautiful as I am. I am fierce. I am strong. I am a luminous etheric being, manifested in the physical form. I am Milan.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR : Milan is currently an administrative healthcare professional, originally from New York, now residing in Philadelphia. Aspiring model and real estate broker. Free thinker. Humanitarian by nature. Spiritual revolutionary in the making. This is Milan’s first contribution to Tony Ward Studio.

Bob Shell: Marijuana Legal in Virginia

Marijuana Legal in Virginia

Much to the surprise of many, recreational marijuana became legal in Virginia on July 1. I never thought I’d see something so progressive in stodgy old Virginia.
There are limits, of course. You can have up to an ounce for personal use or grow up to four plants. Possession of more than an ounce up to a pound will get you a $ 25 fine.
If you want all the details you can read the story in the Galax Gazette, an excellent regional newspaper here in southwest Virginia. (www.galaxgazette.com).
The reason this resonates so strongly with me goes back to the summer of 1969.
I was living in Richmond, Virginia, in a nice, three-bedroom, apartment on Grace Street. I shared the apartment with four other people. One weekend we had a friend from Washington, D.C., visiting with us.
Saturday morning, the Richmond narcotics police raided the apartment. They did not knock or identify themselves. I was standing in the kitchen at the back of the apartment when a man strode down the hall and pointed a gun in my face. I had no idea who the hell he was. I was twenty-two at the time, never been in any trouble. This was the first time in my life that I’d looked down the barrel of a gun pointed at my face. It scared me so badly that I almost passed out.
As it turned out, the police searched the place and found nothing. But, in the pocket of the man visiting from D.C. was one ‘joint’, one marijuana cigarette.
We were all arrested and charged with possession of marijuana, a felony at that time, facing possible thirty year sentences!
Now, let me repeat, only one person possessed marijuana, and he didn’t even live there! But, that was how police treated ‘hippies’ in the ’60s.
We all hired lawyers, but were denied bail and spent three months in the old Richmond City Jail.
In court it came out that the search warrant was for a different address. Our lawyers tried to get the case thrown out on those grounds, but the judge refused.
We went to trial, and in a great show of ‘judicial mercy’ were only sentenced to three years each. That’s a cumulative fifteen years for one silly joint.
Thankfully, our lawyers pleaded with the judge and got the sentences suspended. But we were forbidden to associate with each other even though we were best friends. So we were split up, and I went back to Roanoke, where I’m from, and went to work for a local TV station and theater.
My dear friend Mark couldn’t take the stress and killed himself, a promising young life ended for nothing.
The first time I was to meet with my probation officer I showed up and was taken to his office.
He read my file, and said, “Possession of marijuana, eh?”
When I said, “Yes,” he got up from behind his desk, locked his office door, sat back behind his desk, and pulled a joint from a drawer. We shared it. I never had any trouble with my probation officer!
So, after my three years of probation was over, I petitioned the governor to expunge my conviction and restore my rights. He and my father were friends, and my petition was quickly granted. I could vote, own guns, whatever I wanted to do. I took my voting rights seriously, and voted in every election from 1972 until 2007. Then I was convicted on the current absurd charges and lost my rights all over again.
But, back to marijuana. When I was arrested for possession back in ’69, I didn’t have any. But I’d been smoking it since 1965 when I went off to college at Virginia Tech and found it abundant on campus and cheap. I smoked it pretty regularly through the sixties, seventies and early eighties, and then just tapered off.
When my late girlfriend convinced me to try some of hers in 2003, I hadn’t had any in years. The stuff she got from a student at Radford University was by far more potent than anything we had in the ’60s and ’70s! I couldn’t handle it. One hit and I was ‘One Toke Over the Line,’ as Brewer and Shipley sang.
The law legalizing marijuana in Virginia has penalties for giving any to young people under the age of twenty-one, but that’s unrealistic. Once it’s legal, young people and kids are going to get it, just as they already get alcohol.
Now, even though marijuana possession becomes legal on July 1 of this year, selling any amount is still illegal, and the state’s legal dispensaries won’t open until 2024! So you can legally have it, but there’s no legal way to get it!
Also, when marijuana becomes legal on July 1, everyone in jail or prison for possession will be released, right? Wrong! There’s no provision in the law to resentence people serving time for possession of a legal substance!
The legal theory is that they broke the law as it existed at the time, so they won’t be released. The Governor wanted to include a provision in the law that would have automatically resentenced those people, but opposition in our legislature told him if he insisted on including that provision, the bill would die. So he took what he could get.
That’s Virginia politics!

About The Author: Bob Shell is a professional photographer, author, former editor in chief of Shutterbug Magazine and veteran contributor to this blog. He is currently serving a 35 year sentence for involuntary manslaughter for the death of Marion Franklin, one of his former models. He is serving the 13th year of his sentence at Pocahontas State Correctional Facility, Virginia. To read additional articles by Bob Shell, click here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/behind-bars/

Editor’s Note: If you like Bob Shell’s blog posts, you’re sure to like his new book, COSMIC DANCE by Bob Shell (ISBN: 9781799224747, $ 12.95 book, $ 5.99 eBook) available now on Amazon.com . The book, his 26th, is a collection of essays written over the last twelve years in prison, none published anywhere before. It is subtitled, “A biologist’s reflections on space, time, reality, evolution, and the nature of consciousness,” which describes it pretty well. You can read a sample section and reviews on Amazon.com.

Bob Shell: On Photography

On Photography

Someone asked me recently why I wasn’t posting much about photography anymore. Before my conviction in August of 2007, I was ‘a renowned photographer with a long-established reputation,’ to quote Federal Judge Glenn Conrad. I’d been doing photography/cinematography since my teens in the early 1960s, following in the footsteps of my father, who was an avid photographer/cinematographer. He had numerous cameras and lenses, still and 16 mm movie cameras, and a nice darkroom in the basement of our house in Roanoke, Virginia.

The first time I saw an image I’d photographed magically appear on a blank sheet of photo paper when I dunked it into the developer, I was hooked.

People today who grow up using digital photography on smartphones never experience that magic moment. I find that sad.

Over the years I’ve been in prison I’ve watched traditional photography die. First one, then another, then one by one, all of the photography magazines have died. At its peak, there were dozens of photography magazines. I’d get seven or eight a month. Popular Photography had over a million subscribers at its peak.

Today, I get two photography magazines, Nature Photographer (www.naturephotographermag.com) and Professional Photographer, the magazine of the Professional Photographers of America, to which I belonged for many years. If others have survived as print magazines, I’m not aware of them.

Even Digital Camera, the magazine I worked for after Shutterbug, is now gone. My favorite of all, and one I wrote many articles for, Rangefinder, is history.

I also get Digital Imaging Reporter, today’s incarnation of Photo Industry Reporter, a trade publication I used to write for, but it’s published erratically these days.

Of course, there are some Internet photography magazines, but, so far as I know, nobody has been able to make any real money from an Internet photography magazine, and if a magazine can’t make real money, it can’t attract, pay, and keep good editors and writers, who have to support themselves and their families.

The once-popular hobby of photography has seriously declined. Any hobbyist who wants to own the finest film cameras ever made can do so for pennies on the dollar, although if they need service, finding someone who can repair them may not be easy. Friends of mine have bought Hasselblad, Mamiya, Bronica, Rollei, Contax, Leica, Nikon, Canon, Minolta, Pentax, etc., outfits very cheaply. Darkroom equipment is even cheaper.

Although the selection is limited, film is still readily available, but you may be unable to buy it locally. In fact, increased demand has even induced Kodak to put one version of Ektachrome back into production.

I’ve tried to keep up with photographic technology, despite the fact that I haven’t so much as touched a camera in over fourteen years, and have yet to even see one of the mirrorless cameras that are fast taking over for SLRs.

My cameras, lenses, and other photographic equipment is all in storage, and will remain until my release. Hopefully I won’t be too decrepit by then to rebuild my studio and life as a photographer.

I used many different cameras over my years in photography. During two different periods I owned camera shops, first for several years in the 1970s, then from 1980 until 1990. The cameras that were my workhorses in 35 mm were Canon, and continued to be until my career was ended in 2007. I wrote several books about Canon, including ‘Canon Compendium,’ the official history of the Canon Camera Company.

In medium format, I used Bronica S2a cameras with their superb Nikkor lenses before switching to Rollei SL66 in the mid-1970s. I continued with Rollei, using their advanced 6000 series up to my last Rollei, the 6008i, an amazingly capable camera.

In large format I used a Toyo 4 X 5 monorail view camera with several Schneider-Kreuznach lenses in my studio, and a Zone VI field camera outdoors with those same lenses.

In the rare instances when a client wanted 8 X 10, I had an old Eastman 2D camera made in 1918 that I used. It still worked fine. I fitted it with a Voigtlander Apo-Lanthar 300 mm lens in a Compur Electronic shutter, matching old to new.

When Polaroid made 8 X 10 film, I shot quite a bit of it in that camera using a borrowed Polaroid processor.

I was an early adopter of digital photography, though, and was doing most of my work with Canon and Nikon digital SLRs by 2002, but the speed at which traditional photography collapsed was a total surprise, and shock, to me and most of the industry. Luckily, I was able to sell most of my medium format pro cameras before the bottom completely dropped out of the market, using the money to pay lawyers, several of whom said, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll never spend a day in prison.’ Here I sit, fourteen years later, still in prison for something that never happened. It is ridiculously difficult to get a false conviction overturned in today’s American legal system.