Boomers in adolescence, the death of short back and sides
‘Shoulder length or longer’ the order of Hair tribe’s new dawning
Age of Aquarius letting in just ‘the flash of a neon light’ bogus sun
not that the free love hopefuls, the weekend hippies could differentiate

Timothy’s ‘Turn on, tune in, drop out’ therapeutic muddled mind psilocybin mushrooms
far out phallic axe hero’s, sex without hang-ups big talk, sisters doing fertility for themselves
no more sweet smile vacuuming for hubby wives ofttimes handcuffed to the kitchen sink
no more blue collar jobs for life, the paternal odyssey discharged as impotent folly

Miniskirts and Mini’s, Quant girls eight inches above the knee groovy extravaganza
go-go boots a ’dancing a punters delight while maiden aunts just shake their heads
material possessions declared a mortal sin by those who had the whole shebang
a murmur of brave snazzy gays, heads above the old order parapet of erstwhile contempt

Fetid communes, psychedelic camper vans, ‘Ban the Bomb’ dreamers, closet schemers
under an H Bomb storm cloud rocked a British invasion, birthed a San Francisco sound fantasia
Warhol’s ‘piss take’ soup art posing tongue-in-cheek questions without evident answers
lava lamps, love beads, bell-bottoms and hippie hats for those who said Frodo lives

Afghan coats and Jesus sandals for the counter-culturalists opening Huxley’s fabled doors
spies, espionage and epitaphs, students of the new left come together at the gathering
heady days of collective thought, the promise of peace presumed, its source anonymous
a sweet girl’s 1967 Pulitzer Prize carnation stuffed into the barrel of a Guardsman’s rifle

Then when the kaleidoscope got smashed in a riot of civil rights the Swinging Sixties died
bare breast modesty behind a purple pop haze of revolutionary imaginings now unimagined
our acid test not up to grade, what immaculate fools we were






  1. Well, at least it killed off the servility towards authority of the fifties – I think? This was a lovely read anyway Mike, and although a touch cynical, the evocations are rich and strong. Congratulations are in order.

  2. Oh my god, you’ve really evolved since I checked you site the last time! Coming from an aquarius who was born nearly two decades after the Age of Aquarius, this kaleidoscope (as it appears to me) makes me long for a time I literally don’t have any memories of. (I was born in the age of the Pet Shop Boys:P)

    1. Got your email by the way…will get back as soon as the plumbers discover our water leakage! Onto more (or less) important things you’d have enjoyed the Sixties I reckon, more so in that you’d have enjoyed the important battle finally won a few years thereafter…I hit the end of said Sixties yet had a splendid time, my only regret that in the final analysis history, quite rightly has been unkind. Do put your book details/links on a reply and I’ll spread the news on WP if that suits…Shirl will vouch for the fact it’s a superb, well crafted, most amusing read. Best of good fortune Lennard old chap.

      1. Could it be my nostalgia for the Sixties is comparable to your feelings toward the twenties/thirties?

        My marketing strategy being a tad on the aggressive side these days (I’m literally bothering all my Facebook friends with my book), I gladly submit the link to my book here. Thanks very much for allowing me to share this with people I might have otherwise not have reached (probably not, as I don’t have that many Facebook friends;))

        Anyway, here it is: “Kim Jong-un – The Super Secret Diary of a Young Dictator”:

        If I ever can return a favor of any kind, please don’t be shy to ask me. As I said in my email, your writing is deserving of a large audience!

    1. Nailed it…part dream was the best bit. Wasn’t manufactured at first yet with the birth of clever media you are 100% right that thereafter it was, sadly manufactured…a fact that possibly led to its demise. Good point.

      1. During that period my father decided I was gay for reasons best known to himself (my rather fetching pink flares didn’t help in hindsight) and I to my discredit got rather stoned! No harm done in the end as I got real, even got gainful employment the moment my first son was on the way…some weren’t so lucky.

    1. I’d quite forgotten that…they did chuck up something chronic thinking about it. Knew a girl once and thought it was she who smelt until she spotted my twitching nose and put me straight as to the source of the savage pong.

  3. For me, the 60’s was summed up in one scene. At dawn, a hitchhiker holds out his thumb on a I-35 ramp at the intersection of I-80. One freeway heads toward the Gulf, the other leads to the Atlantic, another to the Pacific, he holds a sign that reads, “The Ocean.”

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