Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Plastic Flowers

Gilles Plains High School, Year Book 1968

Many people came to see the garden filled with love;
Many came in aroplanes, they swarmed the sky above,
Some of them came in paddle ships that jogged along so slow,
And many sorry people, didn't even go.

The garden was full of flowers, that reached up to the sky,
People watched for hours, some began to cry.
Beauty grooved around them, love was so supreme,
People didn't hound, ecstacy did beam.

I knew a little girl there, lost but unafraid,
She was going nowhere, so in the sun she played,
She listened to the music, and knew that she was free,
To her the love was magic, she was as joyful as could be.

I have been there often, I go in my balloon,
I listen to the music, it's such a lovely tune.
I turned down the volume, and watched them floating by,
Many watched the flowers that flirted with the sky.

And many walked on slowly, excited by the awe,
But most did come and listen, all had found the door.
Doors of mindless happiness - ways to happy joy
Were sprinkled through the garden, for them to employ.

People struck with wonder, walked as in a trance,
Others, filled with pleasure, were silent in their stance.
Many months of happiness were enjoyed by the throng,
They lived a life of harmony, beauty was their song.

Beauty lived among them, among them tranquil still,
Colouring their gaiety, evincing their freewill,
Psychedelic clouds of white, flowered on the air,
While golden rays of yellowsty, wandered off somewhere.

People caught the light and felt, the groovy atmosphere,
One by one, their hears did melt, most did shed their tear.
A perfumed flavour filled thier mind, entrancing them to wander,
They did, and seddenly did find, themselves in land of wonder.

Floral frests at their head, flowers at their feet,
Filled their festal feelings, with gragrances so sweet.
Minds expanded with the heat, exploding with fire soul,
People jumped into their minds, they played a raptured role.

Many people came to see the garden filled with love,
Many came in rocket-ships that teemed the sky above,
Everyone enjoyed that place, and its immortan rhyme;
The garden is behind your face; it's open any time.

Chris Loft
Adelaide, 1968

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