I dye my hair to be different
from the person I was an hour ago.
I didn't like her very much.

I take a picture or two
to memorialize my new baptism
of peroxide and pigmentation.

The chemical smell fades and the new
becomes commonplace
and I'm back to the person that I was.

And I'm fraying like the ends of my hair
and splitting and breaking and I'm her again:
just as ugly as ever.

In plain sight, the Peacocks ply their wearisome
Colours.  Awkwardly swaying, pompously preening,
They cry to be seen, their voices are gurgling  
And gawking.  The direction of wind is their vane.

Overhead, in the secret sky fleet wings are truth.
In the sun the searing Falcon is seeing all;
His talons turn and steal away, they are mad,  
Playful fingers— they will have their say.

A bubble.
That's where I want to hide myself.
That's where I want to stay, away from the world.
Immune to the outside, just in my little corner.

It is. I want to hide. Hide from Love.
I just don't want to get hurt.

I want to be immune of feeling.
Insensitive.
I want to be insensitive.
Able to live my day to day life without suffering,
With no pain, no love or no hate.
Without. Without loving.

Everything is so...
So rough.
I want everything around me be insignificant,
to me;
With no great expectations of the world.
Without thinking.
Without having to think.
How I wished I could just snap my fingers
And everything would by as I please.

Trust your vaulted hallucinations
Trust your most ridiculous
impossibilities
Trust the wild visions that arise
from moments of boredom

Do not trust the larcenous glares
that surround you
Do not believe the gravity
in the black holes of pupils

Trust the improbabilities
and they will become realities

Entwined in you,
My palm breathes a life
of its own
Stuck in the moment
Seeds get sown
of love and togetherness
Entangling our souls.

I moved a few years ago
To the upper state of Vermont
Although the place is beautiful
At times it can be one great big yawn

That's when we put our heads together
Me and my best friend Shawn
And came up with the great idea
To start a Hippie Farm

Our noggins were a knocking
Not sure how this could be done
Do Hippies come from packs of seeds
Or like flowers, in a bunch

And can you start them off by grafting
Like they do on Apple Farms
Where you get rows and rows of Hippies
From just a single one

That's when Shawn remembered this mail order magazine
That we took out and took a look inside
It came with an assortment of Hippies
From Raw to Roasted to Highly Deep Fried

So we sat and weighed all of our options
And ordered a bushel of Hippies alive
Then we set out cultivating the fields
Till the day our Hippies arrived

The package  arrived a few days later
In an old beat up VW Bus
With psychedelic smoke pouring from the windows
Pretty sure they all came buzzed

Of course Hippies don't come with instructions
Only bell bottom jeans and old Jefferson Airplane tapes
Can't tell you how many Hippies we went through
Before we learned from our mistakes

Like don't plant a Hippie face first in the dirt
They need a bit of air to breath
And they don't like to be over watered
Just dust them off when you feel the need

Now that the farm is up and running
We seem to have come into our own
We've even come up with  a way of branding
Some of the Hippies that we've grown

We started selling them in flavors
Like Ben and Jerry's down the street
From our Abbie Hoffman Radical Cherry
To our Hendrix Hazy Purple Berry Treat

But it's our Groovy Rainbow Roundup Hippie
Whose sales have never let us down
In fact I'd put that Hippie up against
Anybody else's Hippie in town

I've never been much of one to brag
But we're known on the East coast, up and down
We've had people as far away as Florida
Come and buy our Hippies by the pound

So next time your up in Vermont
Stop in and take a tour and watch us grow
Don't forget to stop by our gift shop
And purchase your very own Hippie to take home

I've f
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