We used to have hippies everywhere
And psychedelic music playing everywhere.
Then Jimi Hendricks died as if a
Precursor to the end of hippiedom
And all the psychedelic music,
And all the well intentioned love,
And all the well intentioned peace.
How I miss the hell out of those times.
How I miss the hell out of those days
When I see what we are left with now,
When I see far less peace and love,
And fewer free spirits than back then,
And more division and chaos,
In the wreckage of our declining country.
And ain’t nobody wearing flowers in their hair.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional.
I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more. I like and abide by the saying life's too short to be taken too seriously.
View all posts by BobBoyd
