Photo by Filipe Almeida via Unsplash
our summer of love:
high on hope, hardcore uproar
remixing our lives
*
dance in those muddy tribal fields –
surging acid nights – wild orgasmic waves
entranced, crowdy hazy drums
*
all one together
when sunset shades to sunrise –
stay up forever!
*
heaven in a rave
morphing bodies, spaced-out time:
starstruck eternals
*
raucous, thrilled and chilled
travellers, mutating beings
stagger on the stars’ stoned threshold
*
in love’s euphoria:
kiss our forever lovers –
softcore love hardwired in all of us
*
heartbeat to heartbeat
ecstatic, loved-up pulses
– everything is now –
*
Omm
summer 1989 & summer 2017
Marvellously evocative haiku.
Takes me back (and projects me forward) to a time of Rebirth.
A Summer of Love.
A moment in time when everything seemed (and seems) possible (still).
Oneness.
An eternal vanished time (some may believe) but one which lives on i(n me) with undying unfading unending passion passion passion that will influence (and has influenced) my life forever. Like a river.
Bring back that Summer of Love which never faded into Autumn!
Stay awake forever! : ) ; )
Am I a hopeless hippie stuck in idealistic Neverland?
I love this poem for its unexpectedness at this timeless time and the natural freshness in its iconic imagery.
Thank you much Davina I appreciate your words very much. It is 28 years now, a magical number. I hope you are finding life now as inspring as life then.
I like your phrasing of “crowdy hazy drums”: the echo in it of “howdy crazy drums”. I can feel them in my heartbeat now. It evokes a timeless festival: these festivals being celebrations of togetherness and love.
Yes, thank you, it is an echoing!
1989 was a Summer of Love; it was also a Summer of Rebellion and Repression.
I experienced that rebellion at first hand, looking in the muzzle of a tank, some would say, but the detail of that is not important now, but even dangerous, and better not to speak of it so much more.
But in the time since I have been, as you mention, dear Freddie, in this chain of haiku, a “mutating being”.
Thank you, Yan Yip, I am happy you are well and of course all of us who were conscious in 1989 remember the rebellion. Hedonism isn’t always mindless, careless nor self-centred, often reaching out and embracing into the limits of our shared experience.
One of my colleagues at the time had recently come from China. It was indeed a dangerous time for them and one shared in their constantly swirling changing emotions, as now in yours, remembering, still living them now.
O hope you share and progress well as a “mutating being.” ✊💪✍️😃