Roses are Red, Violets are blue, I hate hippies, how about you?

Section I: The introduction of the problem

Dictionaries and encyclopedias cannot define,
What make hippies mortal enemies of mine.
So now I’m going to write and rhyme,
And tell you why they are out of line.

But before I start, I want to say,
I’m going to write this poem, my way.
Syntax, alliteration, assonance, consonance, and rhyme schemes be danged,
The main point is that hippies tick me off and make me want to puke.

Hippie, you seek to rid yourself of societal restrictions in the Land of the Free,
But you constantly refuse to do the courtesy of ridding Myself of Thee.
Bus stop, train stop, the college quad, post office and the mall,
Your baggy clothes and dirty hair are on display for all.

Your looks and external appearance are just the start,
It’s your political views that make me want to fart.
You question authority, challenge gender differences, and often do drugs,
But instead of voting or mobilizing, you prefer giving unwanted hugs.

Section II: Hippies have problems, not solutions

Some say hippies are harmless,
Why waist my time
Merle Haggard said it best,
They’re simply out of line

It went something like this-
“When you’re running down our country…”
This part you can’t miss
“You’re walking down the fighting side of me”

Peace, saving the environment, and running down this country,
They are the biggest of your most sacred, timeless creeds.
But you do not organize and instead insist on the free,
The free love that leads to the planting of tainted seeds.

You’re pacifists! You’re pacifists! We get it,
You all think you’ve seen the light.
Leave me alone; make sure your bong is lit,
Fact is, you’re too stoned to fight.

Section III: If you’re offended, you offend me

Some will be offended
By these subtle words of mine.
But anti-American sentiments
Send shivers up my spine.

How many times do you need to be reminded
That several countries don’t do so well.
In other places,
Your off-handed comments would land you in jail.

I guess the truth is that it doesn’t really matter,
What you hippies think of me.
With flowers in your hair and yellow in your belly
I could never take you seriously.

Section IV: In conclusion

You stink, you’re dirty, you’re ridiculous, you suck
You’re inconsequential, you’re ugly, you’re soft, you suck
You waist our time, you look funny, you act funny, you suck
You’re unappreciative, you’re silly, you’re a joke, you suck

Ok, ok,
I think I’ve calmed down.
Since I can’t legally throw rocks at you,
I can write to get a smile out of a frown.