Blitzkrieg Bop shaked one fertile ground
In Germany where people sat on the ground
Under the heat of the sun
Open bodies laid under the gun.
Blitzkrieg Bop became a craze
Up front and behind a famed naze
Moving, shaking above and under the trees
Trembling, quivering with high knees.
Blitzkrieg Bop ruled over the world
Seventy six atop the torn world
People with sad faces learned to prance
Everywhere they hopped, wiggle and dance.
perfect cone, hides its beauty from whims, caprices of humanity.
I wish I were a baggage to abandon.
I wish I were a hold-all to un-hold,
With no handle for some bloke to put his hand on
Or to plant a snotty kiss that leaves me cold …
I wish I were a parcel, square and string-tied,
In stout brown paper, not to be un-wrapped;
Inscribed in huge red letters, “DON’T PEEP INSIDE!
Till I’m dead and gone, and cannot be sent back …”
It might be rather fun to be left luggage;
To fashion most exquisite, boring days
With false teeth and umbrellas in West Dulwich,
Or to gather dust in Walton-on-the-Naze …
I think I’d like to be a Printed Packet,
Forgotten on some sorting-office shelf,
With nobody to notice I can’t hack it
And no-one else to hassle … Just myself …
I want to pass my private rites of passage
Simply wrapped up in myself, and “off the ‘phone.”
I really DO wish you would get the message …
Just like Garbo, dear, “I VANT TO BE ALONE!”
( I found the first line of this poem as a typing exercise
on a second-hand computer.
It just tickled my fancy! )
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