American 60s
Gladness of meadows, ill weeds,
children of flowers, mad deeds,
bitter of fathers, iron glove.
Winds are carrying the love.
Noisy city, stone’s moan,
smoky bars, reality’s yawn,
beasts in cages out of laws.
Jim is opening the doors.
Words of rampage, hair to shoulders,
a lioness roar, a flow of wonders –
her mike – harmonious Dionysus –
a potent lion lured by Janis.
A woman’s hands with a handkerchief,
lips to lips, a garland gift,
she’s excited ‘cause of – guess
who’s kissing her? – Elvis, yes.
Peacock’s colors, sharp wit,
a swarm of flies, a scent of sh_t,
by the Sun is burning Phoenix,
a guitar being burnt by Hendrix.
Cloudy whiteness and grey ashes.
Crocodile tears, Megaera bashes,
to a singer a merciless demon.
Dreams imagined by John Lennon.
Burst of emotions, decay of knots,
barking dogs and bleating goats,
shocked by coup a righteous snob.
In his searching’s howling Bob.
Foul air, a stink of zoos,
a worn-out jeans, the century of wars,
Justice blind laughs at beard,
a hippy’s dragging now his weird.
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