This isn't a riddance to my guilt, though. I guess this is pretty much the contrary: A reminder of what I too have been and shouldn't be. Which again brings me to the concept of the picture, for this could be the only post of mine after fifty or so, that doesn't have a picture, because well... I'm not entitled to use a picture that's relevant to the context of this piece. It's not a royalty issue, it's a whole lot more, and all I can say is, when I wasn't entirely allowed to write it in the first place, let alone a constraint in blogging it, I can't really think of sharing the awe that I felt :P
So, here's what I should never have written.
I open the windows of the
house that I have in my room,
a pair of plastic facing the
flicker of the dome my tomb,
I’m satisfied with the view;
Good German walls take a break
from some psychedelic rock,
as the bell rings, there’s a yell
and an accompanying knock,
I guess I’m getting something
that’s long been overdue...
Looks like Hell’s Angel’s been let out,
with a pair of sunglasses, which I wish
she’d smile without; a requiem for my
dream of a diamond bequest:
A tease of a taunt, from the treasure chest;
I don’t say that I think she’s seventeen,
I don’t think she’s fair, I don’t think she’s
ever been; I don’t say that I know everything
about her and her golden rule:
I just find the angel from Hell to be cool...