Poem: "Fantasy Is Beautiful, Man"
This poem came out of the April 2, 2013 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from wyld_dandelyon. It also fills the "third eye" slot on my card for the Dark Fantasy Bingo fest.
Fantasy Is Beautiful, Man
Magic returned to Earth
during the Summer of Love
but everybody who saw anything
was too stoned to notice much.
A young man munching on mushrooms
saw several of them get up and dance,
but well, he'd been seeing that sort of thing
for a while now and thought nothing of it.
A woman with flowers in her long dark hair
was startled when some of them flew away
but that might have been the dandelion wine
or perhaps the very special brownies.
She leaned back down over her lover
and just kept going.
A colorful bus full of teenagers and their dog
saw a unicorn run across the road
and barely avoided a collision.
"This joint is choice," the driver said to the dog.
The dog did not take his head
out of the bag of hamburgers to reply.
The lotus-eaters looked up from their cushions
to see a sloe-eyed beauty with six arms
wearing nothing but gold beads and henna.
She blinked her third eye at them and smiled.
"Far out," one of the students murmured.
"Concentrate. Clear your minds," the guru advised,
but they had all gone blind in the third eye
from gazing upon the naked face of a goddess.
Some time during the seventies
the haze began to clear
and the magic went back
to living under rocks
and in hidden grottoes
but every now and again,
someone would stumble across it
with a really good stash
and reminisce,
"Fantasy is beautiful, man."
* * *
Notes:
Read about 1960s slang.
The Summer of Love was in 1967.