Transelating "The Waste Land"
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Andy Iser
White mummies, not me, rely on the East Coast.
Breaking their knees and backs, not even noticing winter.
If James lives in his memory and desire,
only sometimes he lives then.
Where did you go parakeets, eagles, kangaroos
with open pouches replaced by pioneers
with Mink skins eventually closed fists?
Deserts were oceans licking its own shore,
thirsty for tired, forgotten little fish.
Away poets, artists, coffee drinkers, cousins, in Pandora’s Box. Expelling the ground looking for a key
you hopeful Wall Street treasure hunters move on. Earthworms, wavelengths,
the entire natural world dead to your strained ear.
But gophers still dig with their pointed yellow teeth,
who breathily owns up to natural needs,
who taints the Earth pure,
who copies, walks, catches the train from Grand Central Station,
who evolves with the sunset.
Boring fish floating in oceans wide and bright multiply in the blackness of the moonlight,
the son of man as an overdone painting turned in late,
who is hopeful that the nervous lines of a true painter are seen in the right light,
who knows apes evolve both ways, just depends on the way ink’s crossed,
the first time around hiding within the shadow of a red rock,
educating by fire and heat, in day and night, the torments of the future are known not,
no blood diamonds, liars, horrifying atrocities, just writing and vision,
fluttering wings, whistling branches,
things solidifying from dust.
Bloody insane my teeth clicking my fortune in Moris Code,
poison oranges putting me into a state of obstructed vision,
never do I beg to float with the dreams and wishes of idol minds,
sudden desire,
a distant hope,
a fortuitous nightmare,
a warning to get vaccinated against vaccinations,
such thoughts and memories traveling diagonally my brain missing half of it all,
i’m taught to fear crowds, water, long hair, dissonant harmonies,
latched to other’s wishes I hang in silence,
not knowing, realizing, feeling anything, happy actually.
check everything you know to be eternal.
A lone bridge above winter flames,
come snow, be smooth and cover the flames like you cover my skin and leaves,
don’t let penguins turn into snakes, don’t let snails burn in their shells,
come snow, out of the garden, off the tombstones, cover up the soldiers,
winter the discerning war with cool breath, with your gentle licking,
fill up desperate cups snow, melt snow, melt like romance that turns into love,
like grass growing on soccer fields where kids learn opposition and gaming,
melt the sorrow in cemetery, change its state, make death happy, a rebirth,
don’t sit placid snow, get off your mountaintops, your high horse,
hear the screams melt them.
he sat well protected
her baby doll chair,
the little girl pretending she was Cleopatra.
She saw nobody but herself,
even Anthony – Ken no doubt
didn’t have much say.
She was a girl
from the infinite future,
her life purchased by parents,
the immediate future puts more and more on the market.
She did not sleep,
she chose to be haunted,
up late during the bleak, black night,
her family from the past, she alone felt neglected.
The glitter of the sky
wasted light into the room,
even at odd hours the sun shined mysteriously,
it filled her with hope, care, love,
utter excitement for that beautiful May morning
bird chirps, honey bees hums, too good to be true.
Desolate sounds from the attic
other problems of heart and of soul,
chopped up sounds,
a million different words wielded at once
come from that cupboard above the hall,
they were frightening on their own,
they did sound content,
it is scary to hear any number of restless voices
happy in chatter with walls and ceilings.
Echoes and reverberations using the air
furthering their own crescendos and modulations,
the air became their control zone,
a holy space to express lonely solitude.
We count each feeling the language,
tangent shadows enter our minds
but they bounce back,
millions of tangents bouncing, even;
blending with one another,
one million, four-hundred fifty-nine thousand, seven hundred forty-five tangents become a feeling,
a cash; registers in the average not to heavy human in one point two seconds,
feelings are collected in blood boxes,
so named from the sealing process,
lizards are their protectors,
ancient serpent brothers serving humans again,
faithful as ever,
serpents studying the antic mantel with bloody undersides,
they would tell you restlessness is a curse,
driving excitement – the disease – the addiction,
with personal effort throwing it at every second forward,
so that no matter of who or how,
it becomes counted effortlessly by that ignorant clout
getting into trouble is believing a false promise,
dragging naked feet in the desert,
pulling the dust in the house, sprinklings of sun.
One diamond that lacks the ability to impress but is pointed nonetheless.
Watch then show the exact thing you saw lifelessly. See what happens.
See that sparkling innocent – breathing smoke and smiling guilty as charged.
Angels keep heaven inside and are physically alone. Departed.
Solemn, bored words full of energy and emotion, the student is surprised to learn in class.
Freedom is full of burden and controversy, or don’t you watch your television?
Intelligent women take over the world. Finally, things as they should be.
Trains beating in the distance, silently when just appearing. Then they get loud.
People muttering on the trains, playing board games, life ticking with the clock.
Having a bad day, confused? God is playing with you – your just his little toy.
There they are, my neighbors, doing laundry. Lots of dirty clothes. They know it, too.
It’s beyond laundry, it’s dirty because it’s expression, sentiment.
There they are, living one thing, doing something else.
Her: “you gave it up”
Him: “stop, put it down”
Her: “I should use it. You’ve killed me. You’ve killed us.”
Him: “Recognize the truth.”
Richard could smell the blood a mile away. He baked lemon bars – they did nothing.
She thought how fish in the sea never had their hearts broken. They never sank.
She felt unattractive in her bathing suit walking away from the condominium.
He followed her out with his hands open. She took them again. It’s all part of the process, they knew.
Matching rings clicked as they hit each other as hands crossed.
Night fell and the stars were out, still they stood.
She told him she never wanted to leave this position. That they could stay together forever if they never drifted apart.
Reminders of past problems they glimpsed a shooting star, she did – he actually sneezed and missed it.
She asked if he had seen the shooting star. He thought she was sarcastic. He shook his head.
Her questions got to him like a sliding down the frets of a guitar.
Naturally he needed some sleep, he wanted to go inside.
He shook her off and walked in the sliding door, the look clicked as he shut it. He shut it just a bit too hard.
She tried not to think about his leaving. She followed and met a locked door.
She was obsessed with him since 17,
She never dreamed they’d fall apart, she leaned on the glass crying. He got into bed.
He picked up the remote and turned the television on.
Her: “put it down now unlock this thing let me in!”
Him: “how long you going to wait before you come in here?”
Her: “tell me why you locked the door”
They’re young. She got back inside as morning overtook the stars.
Planes fall from the sky suddenly,
Shooting through clouds hitting buildings decaying speed with engine explosion.
Their cracked wings, their falsified inspections, God damn you FAA,
If we were going to crash, we could have left on time!
As the plane fell there was no screaming, just trepidation sucking away people’s souls.
Like pebbles they fell into the sea.
All sorts of stuff in the sky with the air, that pure air – that free fall!
Noises and machine eruptions, speaking to us loud and clear.
All sorts of things falling into my mouth like chocolate.
All those people, memories, good times, all forgotten for eternity.
But millions of miles away two lips meet, beauty all over again.
Imagination running wild, stripping naked all those memories lost and forgotten.
The moon setting now, nicely, over the water with the planes, and through the window.
Cut faces, tail-ends separated from wings – hymms and motions in the darkness.
Repetition and sweet sounds sublime, beauty forms so nicely all over again
Fears and false hope all combined in a cup of thick tomato soup. Siberian tigers, unicorns, centaurs,
all extinct the night is one giant black dark spot.
And what idiot plants the apple tree over the ocean?
Follow the dolphins out to sea,
they usually know the way and like to get wet.
They are tired and sick up playing the same games everyday,
not unlike us – we’re really quite alike,
though I’ve never met a dolphin who did not like me.
Did you see the savior get up this morning? Passionate and free. Glorious Rome and Sparta?
The romance of numbers is sickening so many people,
as are glasses in the wrong prescription
thanks health care,
thanks over-worked doctor or optometrist whatever you are.
You want answers – well start looking for solutions and stop eating so much bread.
It’s not about your eyes and ears, use your mind:
you watch the same movie over and over again
and you wonder why you don’t like anything else on the television. Did you really start using your diary – pretty, pretty, pretty weak. Words shatter like the teeth in your mouth
when you get hit in the face look up you fool it was coming a mile away!
The sun sets like a cracked back – prosperity does not last forever. Just ask the forgotten garden, the weeds prone to wild fire, blissfully aware of something greater but unable to achieve anything until boom!
long 5th avenue outside the nice shops I saw a Black man playing the blues,
his gentle saxophone ripping up and down notes, scales, harmonic and grit, real licks of fire coming out of that thing,
people shopped, walked store to store, passed the mood, all of them feeling cooler,
it’s Christmas on 5th, trees, mistletoe, crosses all out, a beautiful day,
the snow melts, the waves press against it harder than any shopper’s foot could, the flakes appreciate the push, influence is strong,
the breath comes to an end, one more second is not possible, the music stops, the stores close, everything freezes.
One more breath, The arms move, conditions worsen, snow falls like notes ripping through clouds tearing families apart the rough sounds of tritones and minor seconds mixed, Down the street bebedobop, weeeee, bop weeeee, bop bodowahlawewewebebebe BOP!
Amazingly someone else plays sax that’s out on the street, he appreciates what the guys playing, he laughs and smiles, and watches him for a bit. The notes get better, the mood becomes happier, art appreciated, snow lessens, shops reopen.
Above the shops lots of apartments: the richest and most narrow mindsets of the city all in one building – all in one floor, of one street, above shops selling that same idea. Someone started a fire. After he took the elevator down from the apartment. He got out of the building. He had a knew plan. He didn’t care what happened to everyone else. But he stopped to hear the saxaphone, instead of hailing a cab.
Yellow, dirty, scratched, fender-bender cab waiting for him. He listened to that sax as the police drove up. As he got hauled away. BeeeeeeBOP! WeeeeeeeBOP!
With phlegm in the back of his throat
he sends fourteen death wishes
via his Blackberry.
While he walks along the city streets
with headphones blacking-out his ears, with caffeine
pulsating through his skin, he doesn’t notice the crane,
22 stories tall, falling above his head.
No matter,
executive or plumber, lawyer or accountant,
he walked East 51st a million times,
the wheel turned, the wind blew,
it could have been you.
Man and mother,
Dan the park ranger fuming his anger
Hurting the family goals and his
wife falling. He can help his noise-making family,
the treating of loved-ones been lost at an unruly card game
when his enemy cheated on a flush
loosing their money
bad partnership.
All in, the boys stop throwing in money and turn over their
Journey. One sobers up, one runs to leave, stolen
And lost, they grab him.
Sitting in tears, the fool broke lost,
Screaming into the air, all in
Mouths open a big bluff.
Ripping with their fists and throwing
weight our family man desperate and
beaten deep, inside.
And the others come, paying him back
ignoring the real cheat and jerk,
bloodying up thinking nobody can hear.
Sad and fat he lays
Night and day the pain comes, ouch,
Delaying any movement, drowning in blood
Puddles.
To cry
To feel torture
To taste his family
And break addiction
Saying hi, how do you do?
The man dies in the memory,
His dream strings give me thoughts,
He tried, failed, then
died.
hear sirens scream with torture,
bright light into focus leaves backing.
Sinfully companies hide reports,
with notes copied twice over, crunch crash away
suddenly I feel new truth coming today,
bossoming and riding.
He wirelessly stays, his head amidst knees rumbling at any echo,
row then mad patriot vast waters and rhythmic heeding.
Always remembering, restating.
Slyly with wicked motive,
kniving to win unborn plans,
sterilizing the mind that says:
coward under quiet mood you dissolve your contact cheats.
Onward to misery? How do you sign your name?
Law’s passing, not forever. One eye on you soon this great day. Hope for a star never to fall and grace us,
ocean waves fall and recycle, doting is un-dutiful. Stop.
My woman tried many rotten treatments.
The boys voices have been her comfort.
Patience is a lost virtue,
hidden be nine fake lives and rolled-up places,
only that could seem boring now,
she’s dead, gone, the times her body fought it.
Be strong, especially you secret death,
from the abyss days come new ones.
We can only take back people so many times,
find out the clean days,
bring them keep them close in.
I spent this morning as a tree seeping into the ground.
My tears falling in a row.
Apples very-ripe for eating
and washing away the taste of misery with sweet juice.
Stop the juice for a moment.
Sincere men need what they say,
womem driving their lives.
Stop this mourning
and belief in tears.
Ketchup tastes like a goddess,
limp fruits on trees to squishy tomatoes.
Let's start from the beginning, protect these once made
songs for tomatoe squeeze’s
supper hurries to be over
to freeze courses that say no to red squeeze.
Ketchup.
When Heaven calls, or Satan jokes about too dry anything-
know that one will hear a whisper of ketchup.
Stay bent upon your recognitions,
We sit focused upon a boat,
Relax for God’s sake,
Don’t stare at me like that just say thanks and get over it,
Lif’e tough don’t keep thinking about it,
You walk like a nut, think one foot, left then right,
Here, have some ketchup,
look how you relax.
you’re in heaven,
you’re high,
and you’re coughing, hungry, and passing out.
I’m so comfortable.
Let’s flip everything around so I need to get up,
just throw everything away.
yeah pass the ketchup I’m freaking out again.
I proposed to the girl because I loved her.
I was rich, she should have loved me.
She had plastic surgery.
Nostalgic, lonely, hung-over,
Why does the sun last longer than darkness,
Let’s go out and spend some time together?
I’ll pay you for your love,
Take a number sweetie,
I feel freightened,
Renounce your lies and stop making new ones,
You’re interesting and that does something to me,
it makes me read between the lines.
tongue-tied, nervous-awkward I call you trippingly,
I don’t know what you’re going to say.
don’t be all nice to me at once,
God as my witness,
A storm rages.
Things could be worse.