A land full of waste. So full, yet so empty. Full of nothingness. It has nothing but our leftovers. Can’t it have something for itself? Our waste. What we don’t want. Why would anyone want that? Wasteland. Shameful. Disappointing.
Here i dropped through that crack in the floor, something had happened, what I didn’t know. I see a world of miracles around me, a beauty of no match. There I saw a child’s first toy, like the most precious in the world to him, there I saw another held so closely, safe in her mother’s arms. I walked about in what seemed the world of fantasy, and I couldn’t help but smile at all these things around me, everyone seemed to be happy, seemed to have that very thing they’d wanted all their lives… It was a very sunny place, with all the positivity.
Spending some time there started to build in me an uncertainty, as everyone seemed to be stuck in their moment of glory, I saw events happen over again, someone running into the arms of their beloved in a wild moment, and there seemed to creep an unspoken desperation in my conscience….
Travelling this somewhat twisted wonderland, I came across something that told me what I was doing here… There I saw myself with a woman without a face, with many faces, the woman I love… The pain was numbing. This was the wasteland of lost hopes and dreams, and maybe I am here because someone lost hope on me.
She was wasting away. All she could do was lay there, staring at the sweltering sunlight that burned her skin. She knew this was a wasteland, but she didn’t have the strength to get up and get out of there. So she lay there…
assembled like a poetry but also completely barren it is filled and lives because it is empty, potential is more pregnant than birth, birth gives shape form and limitation to our imagination which is a wasteland pregnant but could become a wasteland actual
teenage wasteland. i think nirvana sings that song. i really have no idea if it’s even a song. i don’t listen to that kind of music. i guess wasteland could be desert too. i’m currently in the worst wasteland – el paso. it’s actually not that bad, but you can’t let people know you like it here, they’ll feel betrayed or something. not that i don’t miss everyone, i do – i just like being here also. if distance wasn’t an issue i might stay here.but i have kids and the kids want their grandparents – and i want them too. right. wasteland. sort of reminds me of a dump, which reminds me of zayn’s big rig buddies movie and organization. i’m so glad we’re done with that phase.
It’s a wasteland, we’re standing at the end of the arid plain, and all that’s left is a flash of lightning, a burning tower and the gust of wind bringing rain — T.S. Eliot, you have inspired me beyond any other author.
You bring life to words that previously had no meaning, change text from old, unreachable and cold reads and fragment them into something that demands of a reader to be a part of your poetry. BE a part of the world which we had turned into The Waste Land.
this entire country is a wasteland. i dont understand how someone can live in this great nation and see that we are not tainting its original beauty. what was once mighty is now a pile of rubble. its a shame. i wish i could change it, but i am only one person.
As much as I love my country, I have to say I think intellectually and culturally we are becoming a barren wasteland. We have literally forgotten where we’ve come from, because all we seem to do is look at our neighbors and judge ourselves based on what others have; gone are the days of ingenuity and creation. So few people are willing to create new ideas, simply because we’ve grown content with the solitude of staring into glowing objects for new information, and friends…it’s a sad, dissonant existence. We, as human beings, are meant to interact, and create….and we’ve abandoned ourselves.
Wasteland is a place people who have sinned beyond forgiveness go. People who wasted their one life. They go there when they die. There you can try and redeem yourself. Prove you regret it all and maybe get to go somewhere better than there.
…Was the name of one of the works I was supposed to study for English lit last year, by t.s . elliott, who apparently holds a very pessimistic view of the world. He has been criticised for it but at the end of the day, haven’t we all woken up to the world as a wasteland before?
The wastland is a place where people can go and not be juged, they have to be comploetley accepting of others differenceses. Lets go there everyday, and everyday lets go there, so we remember how to love someone for there diffenceses and they’re similarities.
Of LA. Of all America. Of British rows of houses. Identical roofs, tiny rooms. Not a bookshelf in sight. No one has ever heard of Dumas. Dumas? Foreign? Yes, he wrote the Three Musketeers. Ah, yes, we know! That Disney film!
The path was endless…I could not see the where I was going and the sides were filled with desolated landscapes, dead tress, stones and dry grass. I looked around and all I could see was dead trees, I was thirsty, tired and achy and hoped to find somewhere to rest soon, away from the scorching sun. The landscape was truly a wasteland and I hoped to find respite soon.
i looked out onto the horizon, seeing the dead and blackened earth that i have come to know as home. cars are rusted and thrown every which way, and trees are dead and bent crookedly. this is home, always has been, always will be. this wasteland of a planet… how? Because of us. The Humans.
I see our world and it is slowly disappearing
The terrible thing us humans are doing
Carelessness is throughout the world
Do we just not care?
Are we just too lazy and wrapped up in our lives
What a sad sight to see
Our world has become a wasteland
Wasteland. That’s what this place is. Nothing more that dirt and dead trees. That sky is burnt orange. I’m no longer aware of what realm I’m in, and with no people around, I don’t think I’ll be finding out soon.
The word wasteland reminds me of the trip I made to Sturgis, SD in August 2009.
As a biker and owner of a 1999 Suzuki – Intruder 1400, Sturgis had always only been a dream, because I knew my butt would never take a 1650 iron horse rode trip. Since my son (a Suzuki sports bike rider) and the president of my motorcycle club (a Harley-Davidson sport bike rider) felt the same way; we decided to leave the motorcycles at home and rough it in my F-150 Ford Supercrew pickup truck. Even in my comfy truck Sturgis was a hard trip!
Once we arrived in the SD, we pitched our primitive tents at Rush No More Campground which became a mega camping facility for bikers from everywhere. The first night we were hit by serious clapping thunderstorms, heavy rain and howling winds. We checked that all was well with each other by shouting through the walls of our tents. As we stayed put in our tents, we heard screams from other campers, or running feet heading for permanent structures to hide in such as restrooms, laundry room, and cabins. I am an avid primitive tent camper but never experienced anything like this in my life!
South Dakota is surrounded by wasteland. The mountainous terrain is heart-stopping, dangerous, bare, colorful and magnificent. A visit to the Bad Lands, Mount Rushmore, and Crazy Horse Memorial confirms this finding. As for the township of Sturgis and its millions of visiting bikers including us; my son described the area as being infested by cockroaches – bikers and motorcycles were everywhere, out-numbering four-wheeled vehicles.
We will never forget our visit to the Wastelands of South Dakota.
Por tierras solitarias he de andar, a cada paso que doy me acerco a mi destino, un destino del que solo yo soy el autor. No puedo mirar atrás, si lo hiciera parte de mi querría regresar, y eso sería preferir mi pasado a mi futuro. Mi pasado fue exitoso, pero nadie puede asegurar que ese pasado sera mejor que el futuro que tanto espero.
Wastelands are not wastelands. They have cacti and small plants. Small plants are plants too. They are just small. Wastelands have magic. Like Stargirl and Leo. Wastelands are without waste.
Do you ever wonder about the things you could find in a place so many dismiss as a wasteland?
What is a wasteland? A desert?
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
It was a wasteland. I couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, people had been living here, children had been playing here. The thought made me sick. To think that there would be a third World War had not occurred to me a few days ago. The smoke rose up around me and I heard the warning alarms and loudspeakers in the distance. Planes roared over, from the opposing side, very close, and spread the dust and smoke for just a second.
That second was enough to see for miles around. There was nothing left. Nothing at all.
I dropped to my knees then, overwhelmed with hopelessness. And I had always wanted to experience something like this, a major disaster. I regretted it now. More than anything, I regretted it.
Before him, the town lay in shambles. One day, the ruins would be unearthed and the people of the future would learn of what had passed. They would learn not to follow in the paths of the villagers. But until then, he was going to cover up the destruction and make sure that no one found the dead and ran for help.
This is just a fault. A big fault which has not result.
I hate everything here. It’s dry and there is no happiness.
I mean, everybody thinks he is happy but he (or she) isn’t.
Nice world. Nice grave.
Let me out. I just want to see the horizon.
I live in a barren wasteland
Theres nothing here for me to do
Just tumbleweeds, blowing across an empty span
The sun-cracked earth with its parched lips
Still trying to blow some life into this place
It won’t work
It’s just a barren wasteland
Full of life with me in it.
wasteland. an empty, filthy, waste of land. a dumping ground for undesired objects where rats roam and birds peck. a burden the earth must carry because of the humans, the inconsiderate, blind humans. their hearts void of any knowledge that they only have one earth. that they are killing it, with every rev of the engine. every plastic wrapper just thrown on the ground that doesn’t belong. disgusting.
The nuclear wasteland had many zombies and many people were scared of it. The rats nibbled at your ankles and there was scrap metal sticking up everywhere, some nearly shapr enough to scratch bone. It was freaky!
wastelands are cold and barren and stereotypical places for bad things to happen. i’d rather live in an oasis or somewhere where things are all whole and clean and not broken and destroyed and stuff. or rotten. when things rot they make me sad. i mostly want them to be whole.
And she said, “Am I to become a wasteland?” “A god damn wasteland for pieces of trash like you?” “No, I will not, because I’m much more free than you thought me.” And she was more beautiful than the sun; walking away, far from any wasteland.
In this dark wasteland where the noose ruled, Eugene was it’s only survivor. He was the only one who had ever been sentenced to it and made a successful escape.
wastelands are grooss theyre full of garbage
the world seems to becoming a wasteland quicker and quicker
everyone says the world is becoming a better place but really its toxic and crazy
wasteland. teenage wasteland, the who. although that’s not the actual song title–it’s baba o’riley. which only dedicated who fans would know how that fits in to the song, i think. pretty sweet song; i forgot about it. also reminds me of toy story 3.
this is not a good place to be, i am lonly and afraid. it is cold and terribly uncomfortable. i want to go home. warm and safe. familiar and inviting. this wasteland if not for me.
I traveled the wasteland many years ago, for many years. I always thought it would be a place of blowing sand, hills of mica, tufts of scrub brush, but I hesitated to think that it may be something other than the physical.
A land full of waste. So full, yet so empty. Full of nothingness. It has nothing but our leftovers. Can’t it have something for itself? Our waste. What we don’t want. Why would anyone want that? Wasteland. Shameful. Disappointing.
Here i dropped through that crack in the floor, something had happened, what I didn’t know. I see a world of miracles around me, a beauty of no match. There I saw a child’s first toy, like the most precious in the world to him, there I saw another held so closely, safe in her mother’s arms. I walked about in what seemed the world of fantasy, and I couldn’t help but smile at all these things around me, everyone seemed to be happy, seemed to have that very thing they’d wanted all their lives… It was a very sunny place, with all the positivity.
Spending some time there started to build in me an uncertainty, as everyone seemed to be stuck in their moment of glory, I saw events happen over again, someone running into the arms of their beloved in a wild moment, and there seemed to creep an unspoken desperation in my conscience….
Travelling this somewhat twisted wonderland, I came across something that told me what I was doing here… There I saw myself with a woman without a face, with many faces, the woman I love… The pain was numbing. This was the wasteland of lost hopes and dreams, and maybe I am here because someone lost hope on me.
She was wasting away. All she could do was lay there, staring at the sweltering sunlight that burned her skin. She knew this was a wasteland, but she didn’t have the strength to get up and get out of there. So she lay there…
assembled like a poetry but also completely barren it is filled and lives because it is empty, potential is more pregnant than birth, birth gives shape form and limitation to our imagination which is a wasteland pregnant but could become a wasteland actual
teenage wasteland. i think nirvana sings that song. i really have no idea if it’s even a song. i don’t listen to that kind of music. i guess wasteland could be desert too. i’m currently in the worst wasteland – el paso. it’s actually not that bad, but you can’t let people know you like it here, they’ll feel betrayed or something. not that i don’t miss everyone, i do – i just like being here also. if distance wasn’t an issue i might stay here.but i have kids and the kids want their grandparents – and i want them too. right. wasteland. sort of reminds me of a dump, which reminds me of zayn’s big rig buddies movie and organization. i’m so glad we’re done with that phase.
It’s a wasteland, we’re standing at the end of the arid plain, and all that’s left is a flash of lightning, a burning tower and the gust of wind bringing rain — T.S. Eliot, you have inspired me beyond any other author.
You bring life to words that previously had no meaning, change text from old, unreachable and cold reads and fragment them into something that demands of a reader to be a part of your poetry. BE a part of the world which we had turned into The Waste Land.
this entire country is a wasteland. i dont understand how someone can live in this great nation and see that we are not tainting its original beauty. what was once mighty is now a pile of rubble. its a shame. i wish i could change it, but i am only one person.
As much as I love my country, I have to say I think intellectually and culturally we are becoming a barren wasteland. We have literally forgotten where we’ve come from, because all we seem to do is look at our neighbors and judge ourselves based on what others have; gone are the days of ingenuity and creation. So few people are willing to create new ideas, simply because we’ve grown content with the solitude of staring into glowing objects for new information, and friends…it’s a sad, dissonant existence. We, as human beings, are meant to interact, and create….and we’ve abandoned ourselves.
Nothing, not even a ripple. Just flat, and white, and cold. Monotonous and dangerous. The death zone! You cannot survive.
Dead, dreary, cold, isolated. A dream concept realized, forever etched in memory, the memory of those afflicted, affected. Hindered growth cemented.
Wasteland is a place people who have sinned beyond forgiveness go. People who wasted their one life. They go there when they die. There you can try and redeem yourself. Prove you regret it all and maybe get to go somewhere better than there.
…Was the name of one of the works I was supposed to study for English lit last year, by t.s . elliott, who apparently holds a very pessimistic view of the world. He has been criticised for it but at the end of the day, haven’t we all woken up to the world as a wasteland before?
The wastland is a place where people can go and not be juged, they have to be comploetley accepting of others differenceses. Lets go there everyday, and everyday lets go there, so we remember how to love someone for there diffenceses and they’re similarities.
Of LA. Of all America. Of British rows of houses. Identical roofs, tiny rooms. Not a bookshelf in sight. No one has ever heard of Dumas. Dumas? Foreign? Yes, he wrote the Three Musketeers. Ah, yes, we know! That Disney film!
The path was endless…I could not see the where I was going and the sides were filled with desolated landscapes, dead tress, stones and dry grass. I looked around and all I could see was dead trees, I was thirsty, tired and achy and hoped to find somewhere to rest soon, away from the scorching sun. The landscape was truly a wasteland and I hoped to find respite soon.
i looked out onto the horizon, seeing the dead and blackened earth that i have come to know as home. cars are rusted and thrown every which way, and trees are dead and bent crookedly. this is home, always has been, always will be. this wasteland of a planet… how? Because of us. The Humans.
I see our world and it is slowly disappearing
The terrible thing us humans are doing
Carelessness is throughout the world
Do we just not care?
Are we just too lazy and wrapped up in our lives
What a sad sight to see
Our world has become a wasteland
Wasteland. That’s what this place is. Nothing more that dirt and dead trees. That sky is burnt orange. I’m no longer aware of what realm I’m in, and with no people around, I don’t think I’ll be finding out soon.
The word wasteland reminds me of the trip I made to Sturgis, SD in August 2009.
As a biker and owner of a 1999 Suzuki – Intruder 1400, Sturgis had always only been a dream, because I knew my butt would never take a 1650 iron horse rode trip. Since my son (a Suzuki sports bike rider) and the president of my motorcycle club (a Harley-Davidson sport bike rider) felt the same way; we decided to leave the motorcycles at home and rough it in my F-150 Ford Supercrew pickup truck. Even in my comfy truck Sturgis was a hard trip!
Once we arrived in the SD, we pitched our primitive tents at Rush No More Campground which became a mega camping facility for bikers from everywhere. The first night we were hit by serious clapping thunderstorms, heavy rain and howling winds. We checked that all was well with each other by shouting through the walls of our tents. As we stayed put in our tents, we heard screams from other campers, or running feet heading for permanent structures to hide in such as restrooms, laundry room, and cabins. I am an avid primitive tent camper but never experienced anything like this in my life!
South Dakota is surrounded by wasteland. The mountainous terrain is heart-stopping, dangerous, bare, colorful and magnificent. A visit to the Bad Lands, Mount Rushmore, and Crazy Horse Memorial confirms this finding. As for the township of Sturgis and its millions of visiting bikers including us; my son described the area as being infested by cockroaches – bikers and motorcycles were everywhere, out-numbering four-wheeled vehicles.
We will never forget our visit to the Wastelands of South Dakota.
Por tierras solitarias he de andar, a cada paso que doy me acerco a mi destino, un destino del que solo yo soy el autor. No puedo mirar atrás, si lo hiciera parte de mi querría regresar, y eso sería preferir mi pasado a mi futuro. Mi pasado fue exitoso, pero nadie puede asegurar que ese pasado sera mejor que el futuro que tanto espero.
Wastelands are not wastelands. They have cacti and small plants. Small plants are plants too. They are just small. Wastelands have magic. Like Stargirl and Leo. Wastelands are without waste.
Do you ever wonder about the things you could find in a place so many dismiss as a wasteland?
What is a wasteland? A desert?
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
This wasteland is so barren. There’s nothing here but myself. Suddenly I hear the low, desolate cry of a bird. But not a normal bird, a Mutation.
In one way I was beautifully depressed as I stepped back into the wasteland of my past. In another way I was happy to prepare for the coming joy.
It was a wasteland. I couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, people had been living here, children had been playing here. The thought made me sick. To think that there would be a third World War had not occurred to me a few days ago. The smoke rose up around me and I heard the warning alarms and loudspeakers in the distance. Planes roared over, from the opposing side, very close, and spread the dust and smoke for just a second.
That second was enough to see for miles around. There was nothing left. Nothing at all.
I dropped to my knees then, overwhelmed with hopelessness. And I had always wanted to experience something like this, a major disaster. I regretted it now. More than anything, I regretted it.
When I think of this word, I think of dystopia. I think of a landfill, and how we’re trashing our Earth with.. trash.
Before him, the town lay in shambles. One day, the ruins would be unearthed and the people of the future would learn of what had passed. They would learn not to follow in the paths of the villagers. But until then, he was going to cover up the destruction and make sure that no one found the dead and ran for help.
This is just a fault. A big fault which has not result.
I hate everything here. It’s dry and there is no happiness.
I mean, everybody thinks he is happy but he (or she) isn’t.
Nice world. Nice grave.
Let me out. I just want to see the horizon.
I live in a barren wasteland
Theres nothing here for me to do
Just tumbleweeds, blowing across an empty span
The sun-cracked earth with its parched lips
Still trying to blow some life into this place
It won’t work
It’s just a barren wasteland
Full of life with me in it.
wasteland. an empty, filthy, waste of land. a dumping ground for undesired objects where rats roam and birds peck. a burden the earth must carry because of the humans, the inconsiderate, blind humans. their hearts void of any knowledge that they only have one earth. that they are killing it, with every rev of the engine. every plastic wrapper just thrown on the ground that doesn’t belong. disgusting.
The nuclear wasteland had many zombies and many people were scared of it. The rats nibbled at your ankles and there was scrap metal sticking up everywhere, some nearly shapr enough to scratch bone. It was freaky!
wastelands are cold and barren and stereotypical places for bad things to happen. i’d rather live in an oasis or somewhere where things are all whole and clean and not broken and destroyed and stuff. or rotten. when things rot they make me sad. i mostly want them to be whole.
And she said, “Am I to become a wasteland?” “A god damn wasteland for pieces of trash like you?” “No, I will not, because I’m much more free than you thought me.” And she was more beautiful than the sun; walking away, far from any wasteland.
There was no lake in camp green lake. It was flat wasteland..
I remembered this book – one of the bests of my schooltime <3
In this dark wasteland where the noose ruled, Eugene was it’s only survivor. He was the only one who had ever been sentenced to it and made a successful escape.
wastelands are grooss theyre full of garbage
the world seems to becoming a wasteland quicker and quicker
everyone says the world is becoming a better place but really its toxic and crazy
wasteland. teenage wasteland, the who. although that’s not the actual song title–it’s baba o’riley. which only dedicated who fans would know how that fits in to the song, i think. pretty sweet song; i forgot about it. also reminds me of toy story 3.
Wasteland: conjure up a picture of post apocalyptic disaster after an explosion/ flood/ eruption.
this is not a good place to be, i am lonly and afraid. it is cold and terribly uncomfortable. i want to go home. warm and safe. familiar and inviting. this wasteland if not for me.
A night of trial and error. Balloons on the floor. Alcohol in the air. But who knows? Maybe it won’t be a wasteland when their parents return.
I traveled the wasteland many years ago, for many years. I always thought it would be a place of blowing sand, hills of mica, tufts of scrub brush, but I hesitated to think that it may be something other than the physical.