Phony as a Three Dollar Coin
BY: HASTI GOPALA DASA
Aug 22, 2010 — TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA (SUN) — I like Rocana dasa's article, "Radhanatha's Magical Mystery Tour", on the swami's book. The man is as phony as a three dollar coin. Who would be at all interested in such drivel? Keep track of the numbers of books sold, and watch them go for under 10 dollars by next year in the book clearing houses.
The Seattle interview is in no way attractive. In fact, he comes across as a thoughtless whimp. A real guru or even a good actor would sit tall and have strength in his voice. He's like the rest of the ISKCON leaders, a passing fancy.
This poem, Masters Of Bore, suits him well (sung to the tune of Bob Dylan's 'Masters of War'):
Masters Of Bore
Come ye masters of bore
To collect all the sums
You smile to the people
And do business with scums.
You closed what was started
Rolled up just like sod
Drove away the down hearted
And took Prabhupada.
Then all the disciples
You had driven away
Cut down by corruption
To this very day.
You play the big drum
And you make the big score
You built to destroy
While becoming a bore.
You gave birth to the blind
With riches and fame
To steal from the world
The best Holy Name.
Your business unholy
With the race you are in
Ignoring the others
With great master sin.
Throughout many nations
There's an upturned palm
They suffer in darkness
With no Hari Nama
Prasadam the lifeline
That feeds the connection
We hear your cheating idols
And are making the correction
You took our dear ISKCON
And fashioned a form
Injected with evil
And started a storm
You neglected our children
You neglected the Lord
High points now with Yamaraja
With him you have scored.
How much do I know
Now that I'm getting old
Well I know by your floor show
That your hearts are all cold.
Guru business keeps worlds
All colored in reign
No shelter for anyone
In a world full of pain.
Srila Prabhupada's books
Are for saving mankind
Not for lenders and leeches
In a financial bind.
You keep changing the words
That Prabhupada said
So that no one gets the mercy
Not even the dead.
And we hope that you fly
And your flight will come soon
We'll watch as you leave here
On that good afternoon
We'll stand on the tarmac
And we'll wait on and on
To make sure for certain
That we know you are gone.
~ by Hasti Gopala dasa
