Ode To Hippies Poem by Carmen Angelina

Was born and bread
From two Hippies,
Two status quo questioning
Ganga smoking,
Protesting hippies,
While little Johnny's parents were prepping
Their son for med school,
My mother was prodding
Me to be a painter
How’s that for process?

My father
The bandana wearing
10th grade education having
Political minded
Chicano
Still wet behind the ears
Went to Vietnam
To escape his poverty
death in the worst way
and things a young boy should never
see are forever etched on his soul
a soul he seeks in his writing
and photography today
With only God on his side
my father was spared to
walk on American soil again.

My mother
The flower child
From the south
that came to Berkeley with only the clothes on her back
and desire for change
no food promised
not even a home
She looked for answers
She couldn't find in her right wing home,
Answers to this unjust society,
Left everything for her beliefs,
she went years without speaking to her parents
a huge sacrifice for a girl of 18.

Socialist regime was
Their intention;
Marxist ideals sought in a turbulent
Atmosphere of tear gas and risk
Jail threatened
But what else is there but heart
When you’re young?
This contradicting era of
Love, peace, happiness
War, racism, and oppression
Still course through their veins;
Every Crosby Steals and Nash loving,
politically driven
part of them.
I was bread from
Two hippies.