When the dream popped, nothing was free

The burning of psychedelic thoughts
a trip down memory lane
rubbing the midnight lamp
brings the children
of the revolution
where flowers had power
bringing peace
amongst bare breasts.
Until free love
came at a cost
and the journey
became lost
hiding under the umbrella
from the acid rain.
Only to come out
the other end finding
bras were back on
fashion’s menu again.
A phase that couldn’t
deal with the stress
of its own creation.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

I like the dichotomy of this poem and the truth of it. Humans want to experience, but do they give up or have the endurance. Ideas fail, beliefs fail, lifestyles fail when they lose vision and momentum. Give up early and you will fail sadly.
I love your writings.

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you So much Sami.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome sir Andrew.