The Waste Land Revisited

For my creative writing seminar the individual assignment/project was a tricky headache and this was mostly my fault because of all the poems in all the world I went for T.S. Eliot’s precious little thing called The Waste Land (a 433 line colossus of a poem) to mimic/reinterpret (sort of) into a modern piece of my own. Below is a shoddy photo of the final product (visual aid + poem) and below that is the actual poem written in my best attempt to mimic the issues/styles/themes/EVERYTHING present in Eliot’s worshiped piece.  (Note to self: never, ever try this again!)

My wasteland

Pink fly, peel away
and take Me to Eden,
Where we will dance,
like demons
Telephoning Babel.


Why are you so lucky to die?

Why suffer truth Dukkha?
Samudaya and Nirodha are already onto you
And your jewels.

Que quieres con Mexíco?
Nerozumim, nada.

O “Over the river and through the woods”
That’s where the wild things are…

I don’t care.

Destruction drums omens into Sundays
every mourning,
And still I stare at sequential
stars guiding me to Shiva.


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