#hippies
Ultraviolent brings out the hippy in me
Totally ****** with a mind’s eye to see
Oh those colors, they look so real
Every shade, I can truly feel
Flashbacks, I used to be so high
Now, I take a **** cough and sigh
2/17/26
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 9:00 AM UTC
Leftover hippies are not as trippy
except for when they flashback
Too old to get high, memories in smoke
can’t snort any more crack
They’ve been out there
where everything looks real
Tied-dye moons with pink stars
monsters made out if steel
Remember the pusher man
summer of love, 1967
All the grass and pills you need
Enough drugs to get high up in heaven
Mr. Natural and some Boone’s Farm wine
That’s how they kissed the sun
All the peace and love they felt
We are brothers, everyone
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 9:16 AM UTC
Passing through mid-century
these jazz oneironauts reached Apollonian heights
while society drifted into Dionysian drunkenness
the merchants caught on too soon
The most beautiful parts of humanity
enamored to serve the ugliest:
The merchant class, the bourgeoisie
Buddha’s undeserving in charge
If only in past centuries
those noble princesses embraced
even more lowly patronages
all this potential today could be staved off
Saved from the drive to be commodified
People stopped buying jazz as it reached its height
No more smiles to appease the whites
Jazz for the few
the noble, the individual in the know
Until this too becomes the simulacrum
The Ornette Coleman on the bookshelf
to signify your snootiness
your refinement from wealth
Aging Dads in thousand dollar sweaters
kicking out their 22 year old kids
for being ****** addled hipsters
meanwhile Bird on Verve is nodding out
and Dad’s girlfriend pops a Percocet
to deal with all the stress
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Brilliant stars, silent nights
Fireflies, Northern Lights
Mountain streams, fresh air
Fall asleep anywhere
Small town, take a chance
Pig roast, barn dance
Allemande left! Do-si-do!
Spontaneity here we go!
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Beat Zen's hey-day
Doing things our own way
Nonconformity, anything goes
Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs
Shot to pieces, picking skin
Benzedrine, adrenaline
Don't forget the Phenergan
Notify our next of kin
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
If it don't fit, don't force it
You can lubricate it, so you can appreciate it
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre is a ***** when you make a glitch
**** this gun like a real cool chick
It's barrels aren’t that hot or that ******* thick
And when it comes, blow your brains, while you’re still in cuffs
Elvis offended nerds, while doing those pelvic thrusts
But, he was merely having fun and just being ******* futuristic
While your parents were secretly playing with ***** vibrating plastic
I used to call myself at that time, ‘The Magnificent One’
Hell, I don't call myself that now, but I still believe it to be true
At the time, the frigid white kids would only spectate from the lower balcony
While some ***** white kinds, were leaping over with jealousy, to get downstairs
Because, that's where the black dudes would occasionally perform, their ****** affairs
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Protect yourself with a little soap bubble
If you want help, I can go pop, without getting into too much trouble
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Wearing Dr Dre can mean defeat when others hear your beat
How can I put the creeps down, when I've been creeping from afar?
I'm another mother fuckin' world wide pop star
They called me, ‘A Hip-Hop Bipolar Southpaw’
Always left swinging up and down like a friggin outlaw
They warned you that, I would drive all the the kiddies insane
So don't blame me for the way your kids now truly reign
Bling Bang Boom
Tight little itty-bitty *****
Thank you for being so sweet and ever so cute
Next time remind me, to always switch the ****** to mute
Oops, did I say that out loud?
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
I'm all for peace and the hippie days
We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout
We were influenced as much as we influenced others
Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt
Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby
Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart
So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart
That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet
If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet
Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you
Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do
I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you
It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!
Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night
Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start
Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.
Hippies have survived since the caveman days
Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze
Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways
Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
Shouldn't we all
Be hippies
And flower childrrn
For they are happy
Kind
And easy going
The world would
Be a better and
Happier place.
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC
I was a young and hopeful soul
Desired to wander free
Free of my worries and longed to go on adventures
At night I would watch the pink skies
Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch
Being aware of nature that surrounded me
Assertive of the words I shared
Taught the ways of my father
Dreamed of golden bridges and greener days
When people like you would come together and lay in the grass
Holding hands and listening to music
Going barefoot and swaying with the wind
Let us go back to Woodstock I had a change of heart
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
I walked into a sandwich shop with a woman who believed in meditation and growling at the dirt in the desert. We saw a well dressed black man and we were 5,280 miles away from him, but he had a nice suit, so I said so.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:32 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Nothings Gonna Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever
Ever Ever Ever Change My world,
Sitting in the grass holding the egg man,
You understand man,
Alternate universes clashing at the seams
once like pouring a glass of water into
your dreams watching it float,
Your body goes along with it,
Its a feeling unheard of,
The things that you thought of, or dreamt
can be real with a flick of the wrist and
wave of the hand , it don't get better than
this,
Nothings Gonna Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever
Ever Ever Ever Change My world,
I been running the from the ways of system in and out , and I just wanna go
home,
can you take me there?most high can you
take me there?
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
Beatniks got hip until hippies got beat
by their own rock’n’roll and by riot cops
as they made love and war in field and street:
spoiled rebel children, psychedelic flops
who thought their youth made them immune
to lies from gods that pipe that tune.
Beatniks leaned first toward hip existential,
breaking out of the fifties mental mold.
Culture’s Petri dish turned pestilential;
drugs, deviance and rebellion: dull as old.
Yet novel did it ever seem
to souls exploited for their dream.
The Hippies took that bongo tea-house scene;
added acid’s naked technicolor:
freak-outs, love-ins, the normalized obscene;
politics of outrage, now made duller.
Impulsivity their passion.
(Sin is never out of fashion.)
Youth’s dissident victory incomplete
they glimpsed on flowery fields of battle
kaleidoscopic visions of defeat:
the psychedelic baby’s death-rattle.
Allen Ginsberg’s perverted freak.
Now reached its Himalayan peak.
Trace back in time this cultural malaise;
the poisoned sources where doubt first enticed.
In retrospect we diagnose their ways:
anti-God, anti-family, anti-Christ.
Oh no, you say; that was just youth—
we had to follow our own truth.
What did we learn in your San Fran cafés
poetically dense in plume-clouds of smoke?
That arty nihilism’s just a phase
and transgression of morals a tired joke.
(The Man will always make a buck
off fools who live to smoke and ****
That mystic idols are not Truth . . .
blown minds will never save a soul;
Faith and Wisdom, both alien to youth,
in child’s-play, play a minor role.
That beats burn out and hippies age;
we’re no wiser for their excess.
Unwashed ravings, Bohemian rage
contain no truths—much less, success.
What did they teach us while tripping and ****** ?
Could it nourish at all, their cosmic brew—
their cult of youth, their dying gods bemoaned,
their howls, their road trips, their breakings on through?
Only this, Daddy-O — now dig my writ;
my be-boppin’ speed rant, my acid rock:
that drug-addled rebels who scrawl half-lit
fumble with a key that cannot unlock.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
Against the timeline of nature
Freed from the conformity of it all
Are people who refused to fit in the picture
Yet expect their voices to stand tall.
Informed but confused, they obey no rules
hyped,alert,opposed, society labels them as silent rebels
Like hippies, many hate rules yet abhor ridicules
The same people who make troubles
I call them the regiment of the clock
They call themselves freethinkers
Yet others call them legends on the block
Their views and feelings are always written on banners
Always grouping and marching like ducks,
Silent Rebels are always against something
Either against those making heavy bucks
Or those in total control of everything.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
Dial-A-Party USA!
What more do I need to say?
One person shows at your place alone
And after they use your telephone
It happens quicker than you can say.
“Dial-A-Party USA!”
You get a household full
Of old and new friends
Who stick around with you
Until the party ends.
Night and day, the happy throng
Will sing and dance and shout.
Until you’ve had enough of all that
And stand up and throw them out.
Dial-A-Party USA!
It can happen any day.
All it takes is for you to be home
So, if you don’t want this, GO ROAM!
Go see a movie, and stay away
From Dial-A-Party USA!
But if you think it’s great fun
To welcome and feed everyone;
All they drink and eat and smoke
They’ll tell everybody you’re great fun.
They’re extremely dependable, but
If you have any desire to miss it
And enjoy a peaceful time at home
Keep that plan a deep dark secret!
Dial-A-Party USA!
What more do I need to say?
One person shows at your place alone
And after they use your telephone
It happens quicker than you can say.
“Dial-A-Party USA!”
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.
I was the person meant to grow up
Finding these neighbors disgusting.
That was before all the questions I had
Of the vengeful God I was trusting.
But, I came to know that people
Must be more than what Sunday
And all the hypocritical singing
Would claim them to be someday.
So I started learning what people
Do when they act and walk
Then tried to match those actions up
With how people behave and talk.
Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.
Let The plastic hippies pretend
How mellow and tolerant they are
In their designer Levi cutoff shorts
And their carefully chosen used cars.
And expensive ****** and slinky pimps
Turn out to be much the same thing
They do what they do, get what they get
And all of it to please some great king.
Is that any different than praying in church
To invisible God they don't know?
Sneer if you wish and call it a sin
But I don't think that's how it should go.
Plastic hippies and flashy Hollywood ******
These were my neighbors and much much more.
The memorable characters on my famous street
Didn’t always have money or shoes on their feet.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC
Turn on. He preached,
A psychodelic mantra.
Turn off, I rejoin.
Recharge your battery.
Hear the place.
Don't skip out.
Tune in,
That's what he proclaimed,
Like a hallelujah chorus.
Tune out, I respond.
Extract the buds, and smell the flowers.
Drop out, his litany ended.
Alone, or with drop outs?
Distances and depths vary.
But his voice carried.
Drop by, I invite. Stay awhile.
Have a cup of Yorkshire Gold,
And walk in the garden,
With me.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
So a person is gay, so they have to "have their way"
With a simple ring, pizza or cake, a legal wedding day,
Doing things that straight people do everyday.
So a person is black, so they have to "vandalize,"
Even if in a decent non-violence as they demonstrate.
Remove the "threat," gang up on them even if
"Black Lives Matter" is all they were there to say.
So a person is an anti-war hippie, don't listen to them,
Instead go to war EVERY time and "make the world
A better place," especially for our children!
So a person is eccentric, "a dreamer," they have no right-of-way,
You're in this so-called free country,
Leave all of your dreams, your goals, your hopes
At home or take them to another MORE LIBERAL
Country to stay.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC
“one day i will find the right words, and they will be simple.” - jack kerouac
pancakes on a sunday morning, jack daniel’s, getting really drunk then running naked through the forest, mosh pits, double rainbows, old trucks, freebandz, panic attacks, overflowing bubble baths, woodstock 1969, lemonade, slamming my head into wet pavement, the cranberries, jumping into someone’s arms after having gone years without seeing them, american spirits, crying, heavy metal music, innocence, laughing until a hospital visit is necessary, ragers, smiles on the faces of five year old children after stripping the shelves of a candy store bare, severe depression, the 90s, basketball hoops in driveways, putting on makeup at 1 AM, the mojave desert, life.
-z. vega
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
There are people somewhere
Almost no one knows about
There are girls and women boys and men
Gone beyond the places people care about
And, no one ever sees them again.
They laugh and love and work and share their daily bread
And, live within the fruits of the soil
Smiling at the treasures only found
In the efforts of the ones who toil.
And nobody sings their anthem
Nobody paves their way;
Trees and rocks are neighbors for
The ones who went away.
The ones who went away,
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
The ones who went away.
Somewhere smoke is curling from a handmade home
Someone sits adrift in a song
Tapping toes to rhythms of a timeless beat
And sometimes laughing loud and strong.
Someone no one knows about will sleep tonight
Content with what was done today.
Smiling with a face that seems to say
They wouldn’t have it any other way.
And nobody sings their anthem
Nobody paves their way;
Trees and rocks are neighbors for
The ones who went away.
The ones who went away,
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
The ones who went away.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
Bell bottom hip huggers
And my Frankenstein shoes
That had stack soles and heels
That I could only barely use.
A crop-top sleeveless tee shirt
With a superman emblem on it
And diamond ring on my hand.
In case I might have to pawn it.
Because we were picketing
Downtown at the City Hall
And at some police stations.
It was the seventies after all.
Our parents raised us to acquiesce
It was their America they protected.
And it was just exactly this blindness
That we, en masse, all rejected.
We failed to understand them
The generations that came before
That prized prejudice and bias
And celebrated sending us to war.
We felt there was another way
To go about sweeping social change.
We saw beating and fire hosing
As nefarious and more than strange.
We got beaten ourselves and jailed
For just pointing injustice out to them
And watched our sit-ins and love-ins
Turned into scenes of ****** mayhem.
We heard them call us all criminals,
Long haired ******* was a favored taunt.
It seems we were entitled to our opinions
As long as we didn’t chose to flaunt.
It felt so very much like **** Germany
Including storm troopers and jack boots
And the local politicians were obviously
At least agreeing if not in cahoots
With the police in their fear of rebellion
And protecting their good paying jobs.
So, they beat us and vilified the students
Calling them ***** communists, and slobs.
And, yes, some of us were getting high
Back in our homes and apartments.
Sometimes it seemed the only way
We could deal with the estrangement
Between what our country said it was
And what it turned out it really was.
It was hard to realize our land wasn’t free
And there was no social Santa Claus.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
There was a witch in the woods
No one thought was good
She wore a shirt tie dyed in hippies blood
She smoked lots and lots of bud
She had a pet nightingale
And at night it would not sing but yell
One day she decided to pay homage it mother earth
For nature to her powers had given birth
She thought that a picnic might do
So she went around setting the mood
She gathered the wolfsbane and some food
Lit the candles and the fire
Making it climb higher and higher
She stared her naked dance you could hear her wicked laughter
But there was an important thing she forgot to factor
The villagers really hated her so the tracked her down
And tackled her down to the ground
Tied her up and on one of her wrists was a big bruise
That was the final straw, it lit her fuse
And she sent them all
To the gates of hell for the fall
So no longer could they visit or call
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
I’m having a hippy drippy day
A great day to snuggle up inside
A drizzling rain and skies are gray.
I’ll call some friends to come and play.
I’ll cook up some muffins and popcorn
And chill off a gallon of cheap jug wine
Get out my guitar and my old ukulele
This day is going to work out just fine.
Rotten Ray and Pity Patty will come
The first to arrive as they always are.
Cokehead Bobby will ride with them
Because he never has a working car.
Dan will bring his Alice B. brownies
And whatever squeeze he has today.
Eldon Day will come since Dan’s here
As usual pretending he is not gay.
The music will start in right away
Four or five guitars and bongo drums.
There may be more instruments later
It depends on if Dial-A-Party comes.
While that is not a professional company,
It’s what we call it when we all meet
One calls another and soon we see
Small groups of people on the street.
Especially on rainy days, it turns out
We all love this kind of gathering
Depending on who is off that day
And how big a storm we’re weathering.
But joy and music is the rule of the day.
We laugh and get ****** and sing,
Some drizzily hippy drippy happy fun;
A gathering of close friends means everything.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC