Waste Land II

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


It's a metaphoric description of dystopian world

Submitted: December 27, 2017

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Submitted: December 27, 2017

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Eliot wrote a poem—

The Waste Land –

Frozen people,

Sunken cities,

Nausea Angst

All are verses of a

Cadaverous metaphor.

World Peace is

The world in Pieces.

Diplomacy –

The eyes of commerce

Shimmering pale from

A harlot’s vision.

Poet Frost is

Mending bridges.

Ezra Pound is

Sculpting aesthetics in

Frozen mummies.

Socrates is a pagan wizard

Consulting the tarot,

Hires lesbians and enjoys

Them as a Voyeur.

The world is a playground

Of bullets and ballots.

A Dali is freezing in

Echoing dreams of melting clocks.

A Jezebel promotes Gay marriages

And multiple orientations.

Sisyphus rolls the boulder of angst

To the peak of the Himalayas

And lo it is hurled again

To bear the burden of the Body.

I am done!

Alas I am a swami maverick of dejection.

I mumble Sanskrit—

Karma, mantra and Tantra—

I am an absurd hotchpotch

Of Voodoo, Cabala and Sanskrit mantras.

The image of Goddess Devi

Smiles candles of light—

I wink her a malicious frown…..

My body is an echo of

The voice of violence in Palestine…..

Nirvana I can pee

Sitting in Yogic poses of the Lotus….

I write God and Cross it out….

The dog of my behind articulates

With polished veneer the verses of Karma.

Verses mimic the rhyme of

An ancient mariner.

Dawn has woken me up

With the sound of broken whiskey bottles.

I curse the psychiatrist

Who fucked my life in an asylum.

Body is a floating clown of dusty clouds….

Nirvana plays the flute of a pagan phallus….

Holy Ghost why do you taunt my sin?

Why does ambition live in crutches?

The Prime Minister and the diplomat

Are doing a Photo shootout …..

Newspapers will blare their images

Like a whore wooing a client……

Brook flowing meditation, can you

Wake me in the lyric of

Wordsworthian romanticism……

Haiku, I write you from

Scavenging garbage tins….

Buddha was it your plan to Nirvana

Tibet to China….

Day is absurd caught

In the monotony of reading

Shakespeare to kids….

How can I tell them that Hamlet

Was suffering oedipal complex?

Virgins crowd my classrooms

I have to be careful of the language I use.

You flower, smile decadently at me

Like frozen vaginas……

A monstrous tongue is growing out of my brain….

Can I be a Rilke to write lyric poetry to my lover…..

Bible, I read you in misery of an unloved body…..

Paris ---the brothel of my mind…..

Philippines -----the brothel of my body……

My situation is worse and verse as a refugee…..

I have been denied Visa to UK

By a Bastard’s ugly scrawl in my passport…..

The West, I long to see you…..

I have the mindset of a White,

The soul of a black and a

Body that’s brown……..

Jazz and blues sink into my body

As fleshy rhythm that’s smoking a weed…..

Clouds overlap the horizon like

Floating cabbages…..

Nirvana dresses money into the whore’s purse

And mediates the body in undress…..

Prof. of Metaphysics where you?

You are a wretch,

Smoking consciousness through

A gutter pipe…..

Prof. of Metaphysics mumbles drunk—

I am here, there, everywhere and nowhere

OM Shanti Shanti Shanti …..

Peace only if you would stay

Reconciled in a heart’s soul

 


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