Children of the Revolution

To you 
The children of the revolution 
I offer my deepest sympathy

To the bell-bottomed 
Love-beaded 
Flower-children 
Who died on barren fields 
That oozed socio-political decay

When all you wanted was
To light your truth-filled pipe 
To breathe in 
And watch your own mind 
Playing with stars

To Kodak a Soho thigh 
And fill a worn out knapsack 
With the sufferings of a dying world

To lose yourself 
In existential nothingness 
And make love 
To the world 
Under a psychedelic sky

What an absurdity 
That you should forget 
Where you are 
And that here 
Such things 
Are almost 
impossible.

This is poem is a sample from Andrea Thompson’s earlier years.