Waking Up From The Hashbury Dream 

“Waking Up From The Hashbury Dream”

They came from all over, the migration of ’67

to Haight Ashbury in search of the new,

away from the world their parents had created

from the ashes of a time gone askew.

They wanted a world where all could live together

and for a time it seemed to be so,

The Airplane took off, and Big Brother landed,

bringing a sound to San Francisco.

Music, the freedom that was denied before them

“all you need is love”, The Beatles had said,

an age of aquarius took shape that summer

live at the Fillmore, The Grateful Dead.

“tune in, turn on, drop out,” the new revolution

Timothy Leary spoke from the be-in floor,

Joan Baez urged girls “say yes to boys who say no”

to the draft and the horrors of war.

Owsley’s acid opened minds to a new awareness

the magic bus came riding into the town,

of love and peace, all of the flower children

celebrated the new community they’d found.

In the beginning there were mimes and Merry Pranksters,

by ’70 there’d be Charles Manson and rage,

while King had a dream, and Bobbie K had a vision,

someone pulled a trigger and turned the page.

Non-violent protest demonstrations took form

finally the boys were coming home from ‘nam

But more were sent right back out to Cambodia

by the brilliance of Nixon and old Uncle Sam.

On college campuses soon all was in chaos,

National Guard killed 4 in Ohio state

while the world outside the new hippie gathering

pretended everything was great.

Abby Hoffman gave a cause to the activists,

while Grace Slick showed the Black Panthers sign,

The Chicago 8, the Oakland 7, both were deep sixed,

so much for a revolution this time.

Still music and love continued to flourish

sweeping ‘cross nation to Woodstock unaware

until the throng came packing to see the circus

“look at the bums with flowers in their hair.”

At Altamont Speedway, a free concert took place

Marty Balin knocked unconscious mid song,

while Hell’s Angel’s beat a black man to a cruel death,

the band was ordered to play on.

The seasons of love had now become brutal

in another year both Joplin and Hendrix would pass

from this psychedelic world into the next one

the end of an age would come at last.

In the summer of love a dream was born,

but it became corrupted along the way

media and consumerism came sweeping like vultures

to make profit from the city by the bay.

and while the alternative press tried to print the truth

the world screamed it was drugs and sex

for the reason that the utopia was dying

to leave the new youth culture a wreck.

One October in a coffin they lay “the hippie” to rest

a symbolic gesture to show it was done

the end of an innocence, let’s all go home now

we’ll never see this again under the sun.

They came from all over, the migration of ’67

within a few years they abandoned the scene

yet for a moment there was a brief flash of beauty

before waking up from the Hashbury dream.

© 2002 Paul D. Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

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