Come swig my ink sometime,
veterans have witnessed
hippies become in no time...

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You call it god,
we call it universe.

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Equilibrium in life is attained when
the state of mind, body and spirit become one.

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Every hippie needs his own tree.
To whom he can come back,
whenever he's worn out.
Around whom he can evolve his life,
someone who defines
his space and time.

//Someone who's always there for him.

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She was not the kind to be captivated, bound into chains of gold, covered around into pretty clothes and glittery shoes.
She was that untold fable of unpredictable events, running wild upon grasses, diving into wide rivers,
chasing clouds atop mountains,
so tough yet so beautiuful that one feels to see her crazy yet can't resist to decorate her feet with glimmering stars.

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You were a hippie, in
My world of permanent homes.
How would have it lasted?

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You know why we left each other?
It's because we had to,
You were a hippie
And I, a tree.
We had to leave each other
That's how we survive.

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They staggered along less trodden paths,
In search of tranquility within their hearts.
Colourful bandanas and mismatched clothes,
Tattooed arms with a ring in nose.

Crouched over a river bank often unseen,
With long flowing beards and body lean.
Hazy eyes with a mind full of dreams,
Joint in hand expelling a mouthful of steam.

These were men who possessed hearts of gold,
Peace in their necks with purity in their soul,
Abhorred by a society which was vicious and cold,
Secluded from the prying eyes of the world.

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Walking unknown roads
And
Calling it home!

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Hipsters don't lie.
They fly.

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