Before the Walls Tumbled Down(Haight-Ashbury Pipe Dreams)

Before the Walls Tumbled Down(Haight-Ashbury Pipe Dreams)

A Poem by Lionel Braud

 

 
Before the walls tumbled down
and the wolves ate what was left
and every hippie on Haight-Ashbury
smoked it from the ground up,
 
Before the piece pipe ran out
And the junky who forgot the spiritual
Forget the bohemians and rocket queens
Whose spirituals burned smoke circles
Towards the skies
 
Forget Timothy Leary
As I am sure he forgot too
that such an answer
didn’t compensate for ten, twenty years gone
 
The Lizard King wailed on the funeral drum
And yes the ancients might have drummed back
But the crazy wilderness is still empty of gods
And the bottle crooned its last tune
 
You could still see the neck of the bottle too,
Silhouetted in the lyrics of some anonymous author
Conjuring with his poetics
The summoning of the Dream Queen
 
We heard it on the radio
Watched it on T.V
Read it in books
And heard about it in school
 
And I remember my time
When the walls came tumbling down,
Reading Kerouac
Smoking reefer with my left
drinking vodka on my right
 
I had no hands left to cuff the pen,
No rationale to back my words
No evidence of any walls,
But We all agreed
Some stump in the road
Obstructed our progress
 
Oh, and I forgot about the wolves
That ate what was left,
Subsequent generations, the knowledge carrying forward
That hairy beast,
Themes you often here about from The Romantics,
No Symbol poised on its own, it wasn’t even a metaphor
I admit it…I ate it all up
 
 

© 2008 Lionel Braud


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This is really a great poem and you evoke so much about the past and the ideals of that lost generation. I remember hearing people talk about the establishment and being free which of course included arm loads of drugs and irresponsibility. Of course ironically many of those people did in fact become part of the establishment and all of their ideals were thrown off like so much dross. I like how you use some references from that time in your poem. One thing it's "peace" pipe and actually Natives just call it a pipe, but I know non-Natives would be confused by just calling it that. :) I like you insert yourself here as part of the mix with your vodka in one hand in drugs in another, without another hand to hold the pen. That was really a brilliant bit of writing. It's good to be reading you again.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

This is really a great poem and you evoke so much about the past and the ideals of that lost generation. I remember hearing people talk about the establishment and being free which of course included arm loads of drugs and irresponsibility. Of course ironically many of those people did in fact become part of the establishment and all of their ideals were thrown off like so much dross. I like how you use some references from that time in your poem. One thing it's "peace" pipe and actually Natives just call it a pipe, but I know non-Natives would be confused by just calling it that. :) I like you insert yourself here as part of the mix with your vodka in one hand in drugs in another, without another hand to hold the pen. That was really a brilliant bit of writing. It's good to be reading you again.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on August 5, 2008
Last Updated on August 6, 2008

Author

Lionel Braud
Lionel Braud

Smyrna, GA



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Try JibJab Sendables� eCards today! I have a bachelors in psychology and earning my second degree in English Education. im student teaching next year for secondary English. I turned off t.. more..

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