In Memoriam

Jefferey John Hanneman. It is not a name many would be familiar with, but those who do would know that he was the guitarist for the Thrash Metal band Slayer. Being a metalhead myself, I was bound to come across Slayer someday or the other, and when I did, I was completely blown away.
There is a reason why they are considered to be the legends of their respective genre. It is their intensity, aggression, and the passion that made the audience go wild. Among them was this man, Jeff Hanneman.
Slayer was, afterall, his band along with Kerry King. Coming from a family of war veterans, he was deeply intrigued by war and military history. It was this curiosity that led to the creation of Slayer's set piece songs like Raining Blood, South of Heaven, etc to name a few.
Other than that, he was a very talented guitarist, creating some beautiful riffs along with King, which I consider to be among the best. His awesome persona, his stage presence, everything made him what he was and will continue to be..A legend!
His sad demise obviously punched a big hole in the band, but also within the entire music community. I wish I had known the band for longer, but that wasn't to be so.
So with a heavy heart, I bid my guitar idol farewell and pray that his soul may rest in peace.
Goodbye Jeff, wherever you are, you may be gone, but you will never be forgotten.

The Ballad Of Painful Peace

Lived a man, not ages past;

Had one love – the sea…

But sadly when he breathed his last,

His beloved he couldn’t see…

The last of all that he beheld,

Was neither sea nor all;

All he saw was misery,

And all the trees were felled…

The rain came down in all around,

And yet the flames did spur…

Coaxed on and on to burn and burn,

Just fuelled on but incurred…

For the fates now rest and wait;

The soul can’t get the gate

And all the flames, devoured; tall

And menacing were they…

Irony! O Irony! Though hand is what I see!

That a man of all the sea

Must sleep on a bed of fire…

Irony! O Irony! Though hand is what I see!

No harmony, nor fondling,

No last touch of the seas

Lord above! O Lord above!

Cannot thou pity he –

He who loved the temptress blue,

The Daughter of Thy Power…

Wished to be interred by her,

His last wish too denied,

Rested he now on a bed,

Of coal and of fire….

Time alone is the last

Anomaly; Wait, see !

The rising ghost, the kindred spirit,

Like the smoke grey-white!

Hovers over the bed of coals,

Like the hissing soot…

And the spectre, rising, shot –

Over the heads into thee…

O Goddess-Change! O Queen of Rage!

This spectre is now you’re heir!

The melancholy whistling wind,

Now calls forth this avenger

Of his rage; and no less sage,

Avenged he did his all !

Now all see the hood – His rise!

The serpent now strikes its fangs!

All this for love and not of hate,

Succeeded at last, he did!

Now he rests in all his peace,

Knowingly or otherwise…

The price of this unsteady fall...

Rests he now innocently,

While guilt is on and on of all

Those who did rift the lovers…

But the thirst of his now quenched,

No revenge he desires,

All he wants is to sleep and lie

In those cooling waters….