Peace, Love, Authenticity?
Groovy Man…
Far Out…
Cool…
You were real,
True,
Meaningful.
Maybe I got it all wrong,
IDK.
Lost now.
I dance inside my soul
amidst a sea of drunken lunatics
ha…they call themselves Republicans.
Democrats a few. Independents even fewer.
Drunk on power.
Who are we kidding? We are all lost.
Glory days slipped by — way too quickly.
Traces of leather rags line the vintage stores-
Traces of authentic beings that had a voice.
Maybe I got it wrong.
Maybe it was a dream.
All I see now are hands with phones and ears with buds.
No one is speaking. Limited protesting. Gatherings nil.
Hell, even the bikers are hiding in bars.
Take me back to Tie-Dye.
Take me back to voices and passion.
Take me back to rock and roll with heart and soul.
Take me back to REAL ripped blue jeans,
you earned them with work and sweat.
The hot summer days of sunburn, cold beer, and good music.
Maybe I got it wrong.
Maybe it was a dream.
This surely seems a lonely nightmare.
Drench me in the dirty mud of Woodstock,
Peaceful protests and love fests.
Remind me what it was like when people cared to love.
A time of Frye boots and prairie skirts —
where lovers actually talked and then made love.
Maybe I got it wrong.
Maybe it was a dream.
There were nine planets then- aliens on earth, silly commercials,
radios, ice cream trucks, and education was somewhat important.
Take me back to Tie-Dye.
Take me back to Tie-Dye.
Take me back to Tie-Dye.
I wish you peace, love, and all that hippie shit. (It is good to have an edge)
Love, Brooklyn