This stinking cesspit of human filth
sucking the wealth of the country
into the Opulent Wasteland
Even rats living in their own shit
don't crowd together in so many millions
eating their young and puking blood
If you planted a giant white mushroom
in this garbage heap the Opulent Wasteland
it would be no loss to the world
No enslaved masses would mourn
I flee civilization heading west
leaving behind the Opulent Wasteland
the taste of ash in my mouth
the burning fuel the melting asphalt
unnoticed by the Cyborg the reactionary
I head into the fire
First published in Croydon Times, December 1994.
3 comments:
Is this like a remake? What happened to the Shakespearean references? The quotes in foreign languages? The evocative description? (um, not to say that yours isn't evocative in its own special way) Have you attempted to distill Eliot to his essence?
I am afraid I shall never truly understand or appreciate art.
Goodness, you were an angry young man back in 1994, weren't you? I guess a visit to the old country will do that to a fella. The blighted nature imagery is already strong in your work: I can see where that comes from now.
The subtext of this work betrays your rural roots as a middle-eastern farmer. However much you deny it, you cannot suppress who you are creeping into your verse. The clever references to the democratic underground are meaningless expressions of your existential angst. The worm has turned the world!
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