Oct 2018
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
who turned away from the shooting range, stock exchange, shared flowers with those who shoved.
Simplicity dared, awakenings shared, embryo's seeking the light,
a generation, harassed in their haze, yet unfathomed unfazed, unaware of the history they write.
Love was free, love was abound, love was the aphrodisiac that stimulated the masses...that and ****...
and within that metamorphosis, a music, a sound, a note was played that set the spirit free.
Freedom screamed out like a banshee's cry, freedom to be, freedom to touch, freedom to seek freedom....oh freedom was never too much to need, to ask, desire.
Yet before the banshee's cry had faded the flowers were gone, the love was stifled and the freedom faded faster than the flames of an untended fire.
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
their music sang in harmony with one's heartbeat, cleansed like warm rain, pouring from the heavens above.
Innocence touching innocence, ideals abstracted within the myriad of memories,
heuristic hereditary rules balanced, yet cast aside for the sake of sanity.
Yet the music oh the music, searching, seeking to find minds, to avail the next generations the understanding, the want of freedom....freedom and love,
but only we were listening, only we sought, only we dared, only we are left to write of.
Can you hear the music now, not that which sang out for change, for love, for freedom...no now it rings out for "want"
a want to be.. without ever gaining, a want to get ...without ever giving, a want to have... without ever having not.
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
who feasted upon ideals and flesh, who shared who cared, who offered peace to the iron-gloved,
who tore and burnt their symbols of entrapment, cast aside that which had been hand feed to unconscious minds
sought to bring forth an awakening, a new beginning, sought simply, to seek a new light by opening our dusty darkened blinds of morality.
Are we the generation that like the confused or excited butterfly, tried to fly before exiting the cocoon
did we gaze through kaleidoscope eyes, saw the moon and expanded our wings too soon.
Or did we just create within that moment an opportunity to "use" freedom and love as a means to an end.
Was it selfish to want change, were we selfish in our desires and our actions..
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
but it's their place in history that I am still to apprehend.
© Lance W Toohey Poetry
who turned away from the shooting range, stock exchange, shared flowers with those who shoved.
Simplicity dared, awakenings shared, embryo's seeking the light,
a generation, harassed in their haze, yet unfathomed unfazed, unaware of the history they write.
Love was free, love was abound, love was the aphrodisiac that stimulated the masses...that and ****...
and within that metamorphosis, a music, a sound, a note was played that set the spirit free.
Freedom screamed out like a banshee's cry, freedom to be, freedom to touch, freedom to seek freedom....oh freedom was never too much to need, to ask, desire.
Yet before the banshee's cry had faded the flowers were gone, the love was stifled and the freedom faded faster than the flames of an untended fire.
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
their music sang in harmony with one's heartbeat, cleansed like warm rain, pouring from the heavens above.
Innocence touching innocence, ideals abstracted within the myriad of memories,
heuristic hereditary rules balanced, yet cast aside for the sake of sanity.
Yet the music oh the music, searching, seeking to find minds, to avail the next generations the understanding, the want of freedom....freedom and love,
but only we were listening, only we sought, only we dared, only we are left to write of.
Can you hear the music now, not that which sang out for change, for love, for freedom...no now it rings out for "want"
a want to be.. without ever gaining, a want to get ...without ever giving, a want to have... without ever having not.
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
who feasted upon ideals and flesh, who shared who cared, who offered peace to the iron-gloved,
who tore and burnt their symbols of entrapment, cast aside that which had been hand feed to unconscious minds
sought to bring forth an awakening, a new beginning, sought simply, to seek a new light by opening our dusty darkened blinds of morality.
Are we the generation that like the confused or excited butterfly, tried to fly before exiting the cocoon
did we gaze through kaleidoscope eyes, saw the moon and expanded our wings too soon.
Or did we just create within that moment an opportunity to "use" freedom and love as a means to an end.
Was it selfish to want change, were we selfish in our desires and our actions..
I miss that generation who questioned, danced and loved,
but it's their place in history that I am still to apprehend.
© Lance W Toohey Poetry
