it was late

I was talking loud

as I can do when wine drunk

aware with all tensions

as my words were not getting through

to my vino sozzled mob at the table

the death of the hippie my theme

giving in to passion writ large

the death of the hippie was an event

the Mime Troupe the Diggers

Emmett Coyote all the mommas

recognising hippie was done

over

taken up by the store greedheads

selling shit beads mandalas incense

paisley rags run up in sweat shops

too many kids had run away arrived

hoping to find a dream instead got hungry

exploited found the wrong drugs people

missed the message of inner being

but bought the fashion to fit in

never the hippie way

the substance the ideas were lost

in graphics music written words

& me you we were the losers

because there was a time when

love was all you need

& all that’s left is smoke dope

beads mandalas paisley patterns

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