Not familiar with T. S. Eliot, particularly the opening of “The Waste Land,” (1922)? Skip this.
For T.S.E. (1888-1965), R.I.P.
Maybe October is the cruelest month,
Not April. What crass beef could poets have
With Spring’s mild life-fomenting mists? Why shun
Those new-bred fragrant lilacs? Why so grave,
So desperate, about that fast dwindling
Supply of dried tubers? The season’s crops
Will soon be in; gottsudanke, that winter
Snow will yield, and summer’s heat will warm us.
For chrissake Tom, get a life! Banking sucks,
(Gawd! A banker-poet!). Nervous collapse
(Predictable, nicht wahr?), a world in flux,
Vivian amuck! Flaming synapses!
But hey, don’t dump it all on Spring! The Fall
Is worse—cold, wet, and bleak, casting a pall
Over every damn thing! Stop reading
All night—life, despite your soulful bleating,
Is not so bad. And, for pity’s sake, stop
Going south in winter. Learn to pardon;
Stop whimpering. Cultivate vital crops
(As that Frog preached) in your own damn garden!
Learning, wit, and pedantry—these you sing.
But the contempt you project—that’s too cold!
We won the war, survived the flu—to bring
Us down because we were a bit debauched
Is just too much! Better to celebrate
Imperfection than shove us through hell’s gate!
And as for those affected, grim shantihs1—
Shove ‘em Tom! Try pro just once; trash anti.
(10/4/07)
1 See Yajurveda 17th mantra, 36th Chapter: Om Dhyauh Shanti–ranta–riksha–gwang Shantih Prithivi Shanti—rapa Shanti ro–shadhayah Shantih. Vanas–patayah Shantir–vishve Devah Shantir–Brahm Shantih Sarvagwan Shantih Shanti–rev Shantih Sa Ma Shanti–redhee. Om Shantih Shantih Shantih Om.
[O God! May there be Peace in the Sky and in Space. May there be Peace on land and in the waters. May herbs and vegetation bring us Peace. May all personifications of God bring us Peace. May God bring us Peace. May there be Peace throughout the world. May the Peace be peaceful. May God give me Peace also.]