Thursday, September 17, 2009

A Poem by Henry Gibson


Flowers

(Flowers have always been the motivating force of my life)

They are not all flower children, All those that use the name.
A lot are just imposters, Playin' at the game.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers, They may be nice to look at, But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top, And they're wire down below.
The real flower children Are filled with love.
Phonies, they just scoff at love - Their hearts are made of wood.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers, They may be nice to look at, But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top, And they're wire down below.
True blue flower children Do not act strange or queer.
They know the world has got to change, And it must start right here.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers, They may be nice to look at, But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware), Beware (beware) Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top, And they're wire down below.
Instead of flowers, donations may be made to the Screen Actors Guild Foundation and Friends of the Malibu Public Library.
Good Night Mr. Gibson
Stay Tuned
Tony Figueroa
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