| You see, there is poetry and there is some prose, some messages and some things, some mean, some don't, there will be more, some by me some by friends, keep an eye on this page, some will dig some won't. |
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finally..I sit down to complete my cherished work...you lucky dogs will be
among the first to read it...do try to sing along., tho it still needs
more work. I call it 'BhasmaSur' /* Begin live performance*/ [begin light aimless strumming on the guitar, using as many chords you know] Bhasmaa Sur Bhasmaa, Sur, Lets talk of means and ends of lonely hearts and global plans together we'll take a stand Bhasma Sur, BhasmaaSur Lets talk, of means, and, endsssss Works not an option an evil contraption! to stop you while they can |
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must look like ur busy in problems so tizzy! that they wont understand BhasmaSur, BhasmaSur Lets talk of means and ends To grow as a person mix vodka with lemon and get them while you can you'll never have trouble with mustard and custard and thick crust in a pan BhasmaSur, BhasmaSur, Lets talk of means and ends The girls are a bother like perfume and powder use them when you can Pretend that you know them love 'em caress 'em but let them pay the bank! Oh bhasmaSur, Bhasmasur Lets talk of means and ends Of lonely hearts and global plans Lets together, take a standdddd. |
| Bh asMaSuR |
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[begin talking again..lots of ppl over the yrs have come to me and asked
me..hey GJ..why did you name the song BhasmaSur? [laughter] No really.
like whats all THAT abt..and I think to myself..should I tell them or
not.. its really quite simple. Bhasma-Sur BhasmaSur. (like a)wham! bam!(thankyou maam) is the end of every plan A simple song, must begin grand to make it to first rank. if You listen, man! to the band! then cant you understand.... The song is really for the man who cant take stuff in his hands! [assume you know story of bhasmasur] [thunderous applause and laughter] [Cho-rus!] Bhasma Sur...BhasmaSur.... Gaurav Jain Department of Aerospace Engineering "With great power, comes great responsibility" -- SpiderMan's Uncle |
| tHe MemEntOeS |
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And the mail was cold like rice, like potatoes, we should request shende to join us on egroup to take fuckin care of the jokes, like mementoes. So we come here to celebrate the cold rice death, potato demise and jokes like mementoes. There will be a last potato dinner like the end, will feast alive. Jan like the cold days, like the november rain, will pay for the potato feast. We will hear JD and GJ and others with bigger names, like a hot Sunday newspaper. Crap and shit placed together like TV. Will take about difference and Bhasmasur. Kill us and then leave for the dawn, the potatoes and cold boiled rice. The prehistoric gathering shall be remembered in ancient times, like the last war. Broad cast on TV, from the ancient stations, like a lizard and a grasshopper copulating. Child will feed on the news, flowers and years. Grow up and sleep with virgins, kill a few like mice. Spread the cult over the TV. Heads will roll to sleep and then awake to the grashopper union. In the ancient place will be the walls separating the lizards and virgins, lizards will do with the grasshopper and child will take care of the girls. And the waitress will ask for the bill, will whip and strip her in the theatre. The child won't be around like cold air. Potatoes will rescue her, and she will kill them all, one by one. Potatoes will vanish like dawn, like air. WIll take the TV with us and have another feast soon, if the Cherub permits us, for killing the waitress was not by us. The grasshoppers expanded grew big and blowed the waitress with a breath out. No unions, the child was till watching, the TV, feeding herself on newspepper. We will visit the spot of the maelstorm, with the TV. The waitress is still there, like potatoes and coiled cool rice spun into spaghetti, and the child feeding voraciously over the waitress' grasshoppers, lizards and virgins. Feast will contnue, like the spinning rice, no bills the waitress is eating. |
| sa'ILorS, saLesmen & Scientists |
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Salesmen sailors & scientists searching screaming squeamishly slowly surrounding stadia softly sinking shapes surreal summer sky Salesmen sailors & scientists sought screamed & slayed |
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out there at slip steps people were climbing freely on top of their own wild wills fantasising first perhaps steeples clinging wryly to hold thier own wild wills and then chasing still kills stumblin' divine closet to grope for thier own kind will |
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