The world is a pile of grunge.
quote by Jo Stafford
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As far as the grunge thing, there are three bands from Seattle that I would call true grunge.
quote by Adam Jones
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I never really followed grunge.
quote by Robert Quine
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I seriously do not think Nirvana is grunge.
quote by Adam Jones
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The Melvins are grunge.
quote by Adam Jones
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We were perceived as a post-grunge band.
quote by Daniel Johns
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Best two rock voices I've heard in a last few years both have been from grunge bands: it's Eddie Vedder and the other one is Chris Cornell from Soundgarden.
quote by Bruce Dickinson
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Yes, I would say my comedy is grunge, evidenced by the fact my jokes have put an end to big-hair glam comedy.
quote by Joel McHale
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Bob Roberts Society Band
[transcribed by linda h]
Bob roberts society band
By: jimmy buffett
1996
Well, youve heard about the alligators sleepin in the shade
Youve heard heard about the sugar barons screwin up the glades,
Its a melting pot existance
That is hard to contemplate
And a never ending battle in the sunshine state.
But far, far away from the front page news,
Far, far away from the headline blues,
Down a secondary road that severely shows its age
The forties comes to life on a make-shift stage.
Its the bob roberts society band.
Playing every sunday at the orange grove stand.
They dont play grunge and they dont play loud.
Its the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.
Well, the word goes out
From melbourne to the keys.
The faithful get the message
Like its written on the breeze.
Young folks, old folks,
bout to cut a rug
Fox trot, bunny hop,
Do the jitterbug,
To the bob roberts society band.
Playing every sunday at the orange grove stand.
They dont play grunge and they dont play loud.
Its the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.
I saw mini vans from boca,
Buses from perrine.
There were people speaking hindu
In the bar-b-que line.
A couple on their honeymoon
Looked a bit confused.
But the boys in the band put em right in the mood.
They played.....
A lady dressed in purple started dancing all alone
Then she sauntered oh so gently to the vacant microphone.
She sounded like shes someone and never missed a beat.
By the time the number ended they were dancin in the street.
Theyd died and gone to heaven,
That lively little crowd,
Trombones and saxophones
Sent em through the clouds.
It could have gone all night
But the party had to stop.
When they blew the circuit breaker
In the souvenir shop.
Its the bob roberts society band
Playing every sunday at the orange grove stand
They dont play grunge and they dont play loud
Its the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.
Its the bob roberts society band
Playing every sunday down at the orange grove stand
They dont play grunge and they dont play loud
Its the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.
Oh-yea-a-a-ah!
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like women who look like women. I hated grunge. No one's more feminist than me, but you don't have to look as if you don't give a - you know. You can be smart, bright, and attractive aesthetically to others - and to yourself.
quote by Catherine Zeta-Jones
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Grass
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.
quote by Antoine De Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Budget or Bud-jet
When you see it, it is just a pile of numbers or a graph or a grip or a table.
When you feel it, it metamorphoses into a monster or an elephant or a bird or a fish or a tiger or a eel or a dog or a shark or a bug or a snake or a hawk or a vulture or a rat or a whale or an ant or a cat or a.......
When you use it, it is just a machine.
when you lose it, it is a hell.
When you win it, it is just a heaven.
When you die, it is just a pile of numbers.
Set The Fire!
tear down the house!
throw all of your possessions
on the pile...
the possessions that owned you!
all of your memories,
your prejudices, your acts of
vengeance and greed...
all the things you think you needed...
your rights, your wrongs,
your halo, your guns...
your patriotism, your pride,
and the doors you locked...
all on the pile,
without looking back...
set the fire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eureka Pile
I seem to find myself each time I run away
Dont give me vivid in some yester body (selling) days ?
Sometimes they reappear just like the sands of time
Or dya like some quick sand baby running off my summer wine
Same faces broken homes
Those memories have fled
All tears within me now are dormant or dead
My viens are bursting with a thirst that you cannot ignore
Alright eurekas pile
Now my saviour, or my whore
Theres a lot that they dont mind when things arent what they seem
I always wake up baby cos I always wake up me
My life may aint come to much
Ignore my history
Least my eureka pile can see some way I feel
Aint the way I see (* 2)
My eureka pile and me.
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Got With Her Once When She Was Drunk
I used to be part of the grunge scene here
now I'm just grungy. You could kinda
tell which ones of us were hanging on for dear life
and which ones were just hanging on to the scene
and buying expensive flannels. They moved on to the next
big music thing. Pop punk I think.
I was a decent guitar player but we can't all be
Kurt Cobain
but at least we all don't have to be Courtney Love.
poem by Smack Thompson
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Horse Manure, A Pile Of It
horse manure
a pile of it
avoid it
and walk around it
spray perfume
to cover it
remove it
or complain about it
step in it
then curse it
shovel it
bury it.
Horse manure
a pile of it
collect it
grow flowers
horse manure
make use of it.
poem by Frances May
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Relevance
Searching for relevance
from an indifferent world
where my life
would be more
than a smear of grease
under a pile
of bones.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Girl, Where Has Your Look Lost Its Way
girl, where has your look lost its way?
into which grief has it drowned?
where is your mind stagnated?
what are the thoughts that pile up in you?
which of them blooms a smile on your lips?
which one pushes you into a seething anger?
which one explodes you into a riotous laughter?
have you created a world for yourself?
is not the god-created world suffice for you?
when would you find the road to this world back?
when would you thrash the contempts and disgraces?
what do you discuss with the god, the incomprehensible?
here the heart of your mother profusely bleeds;
is there not any medicine in any corner of this world
to bring cheer and life into these desolate hearts.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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It's all magic to me. Country to punk rock, all of it. Chopin to Kurt Cobain. But it always all comes back to punk for me, because that was the last time, punk rock or grunge rock, was the last time that passion ruled the airwaves.
quote by James Marsters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slither
Slither.
If you're a fellow sufferer,
you'll know exactly what I mean.
Is it worse for those who live by the word,
or those who hope to avoid it?
It's that pile of papers, CDs, books, leaflets,
sitting beside the PC, vital at the time
when time was of the essence;
soon covered like a game of impatient patience
with another vital document...
file everything after use? Who's that anal?
It's that pile of mail on the kitchen table
with a touch of marmalade between some items, that
you opened during many breakfasts (it's a cereal story, this)
and hope will answer itself.
Above all, it's the pile of mail-order catalogues
that come in cellophane wrappers
which you haven't taken off of course,
knowing that you will, one day, be grateful
(as so you thought about the previous editions of same,
further down the pile...)
And the pile of folders, which obey that law of nature -
that spines of folders are thicker than
the other edge - they're the first to
slither. And you should know by now -
there are demons in them thar piles:
if there's a page or two
which you need right now as you fly out the door: abracadabra! -
five minutes ago when your right hand and eye put it right there
(who's taken it, c'mon, quick...?)
in two seconds flat, your left hand and eye
slipped something else on top of it..
left brain, right brain co-ordination? ha!
RH reason put it there; LH emotion said, hate work, hide it....
and then, one day -
slither! And
you hate yourself, look around for someone else to blame,
blood-pressure goes up - again -
your day's ruined and it's still breakfast time...
Slither. Moses didn't have that problem.
It's yet another giant step
sideways - damn - in the evolution of the human mind.
Maybe marmalade is the answer, after all.
You've suffered, too?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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