hippies

it is
prophecy,
like worn out
old shoes.
hippies are
dying,
by the thousands.
everyday
filling the sky,
with ash.
real hippies,
that never cut
their hair.
only to
loose half
of it,
to the bourgeois.

i never
liked war,
even when,
it was patriotic.
i recall
the flag,
on fire,
for love
and peace,
and sleeping
naked,
not to eat
our own.

my dogs
run free,
in and out,
all day,
and all
night,
caged,
inside
a concrete
fort.
they live,
the good
old days.
pitbulls pray
in churches,
and are
never free.
i’m entertained,
by their
dogma.

tomorrow,
i will eat
leftovers,
and be
the enemy
out of
respect,
for the dead.
it’s the
least
i can do.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s