Careful with your facts, Eugene
Wired up to a money machine
Bread in your head, a heavy scene
The dropout and the faerie queen
Dopes on a rope, keep it clean
Know what the signs and portents mean
Set your heart for the core of the sun
Skip the prominences, dance for fun
Alpha Centauri to Babylon
The starchild and the chosen one
Hand in hand, naked you run
Shooting pollen from your flower-gun
Before that great jig in the sky
Your emblem was the butterfly
Painted on your inner eye
The mainman and some other guy
A dealer friend with an alibi
Kiss your stash and the sixties goodbye
Comments
littleditty | November 17, 2007 - 23:25
lol - like it - 'shooting pollen from your flower-gun' - great line.. :)
WilkyBarKid | November 17, 2007 - 23:34
Yes, I was a child of the 60s and remember them all too clearly. And despite the hype, I was definitely there.
Ewan | November 18, 2007 - 07:19
Nailed it again, WilkyBarKid... Don't you approve of Mr Bowie now?
WilkyBarKid | November 20, 2007 - 16:44
Can't deny Bowie's influence on me in the 70s and 80s. He's a bit of an elder statesman now, though less of an embarrassment than some of his contemporaries.
But this is about the 60s.
(Yes, I know Mr B was around then, too - but he was hardly influential, except as a 1 hit wonder.)
Ewan | November 23, 2007 - 13:32
Yes, of course, you're right, really only the Space Oddity album of his second incarnation just scraped into the 60's; for some reason your poem reminded me of Memories of a Free Festival and that kind of thing.