Win cash rewards worth Rs.45,000. Participate in "A Writing Contest with a TWIST".
Win cash rewards worth Rs.45,000. Participate in "A Writing Contest with a TWIST".

The Wasted Land

The Wasted Land

2 mins 208 2 mins 208

[* Written in honour of T. S. Eliot (1888 – 1965)]

I


The evening descended like a lost beast on the meadow

Streetlights twinkled as the lone stars in the horizon

Maybe it’s spring now

Suddenly realised from the odour of decaying carcass.

A strange itching irritates me

Devoid of hunger, devoid of sleep

I start roaming in the criss-cross roads

Aimless

Darkness surrounds me like melted wax

Everywhere I see shadows with indistinct chattering

Shapeless

Formless

Behind me, the mechanical revving of speeding vehicles.

Lord, in your world, there is no dearth of news:

Actress, Seductress, Dictator, Orator, Pluralist, Socialist.

We are patiently waiting at a crucial juncture of time

Waiting patiently for the impatient explosion.

Definitions are changing every day

Vision is blurred between truth and lie

Vision is blurred between darkness and light.


II

This is the land of the living dead

This is the land of the blind watchers

Life is a profound mockery

Maketh us morons every time.

My wit and imagination are in the grey zone

That’s why my mind starts wandering sometimes

To tread under the veil of notoriety

Or

Under the refuge of corruption.

Legs tremble

Head vacates

Bitterness fills the cavity of mouth

There must be

A momentary void

When the Time stops.

Do you believe we need a sledgehammer?

Do you?

Do you?

Or

Is it a just a trail of illusions?


III

We are getting time for now

Time for being rotten

Time for getting corrupted

Time for becoming intolerant

Time for embracing mediocrity.

Every day arrives with dull monotony

Of infinite apprehensions.

Between the credulity and stupidity

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom.

Between the atrocity and savagery

Rises the Power

The World is a Harrowing Place.

Between the lies and deceptions

Cometh the Ruler

The Dreams are still on.

The day ends

Dusk descends

Time to return home.

 


Rate this content
Log in

More english poem from Debasish Roy

Similar english poem from Abstract