A description of April as the cruelest thirty day period which breeds lilacs out of the lifeless land. The dead land is a land of corruption, nepotism and all manner of vices. The lifeless land is profound anguish for the poet, a land numb and paralyzed by the stiffness of the capitalist machine which subdues and captures individuality akin to Camus fantasy of the Sisyphus.
Winter has stored is heat masking the earth in forgetful snow feeding a small life with dried tubers. Wintertime details out to severe and narcissistic culture caught up in the cauldron of self-pity and self-like. The hulk of capitalism is examined as a disparaging dynamic metaphor.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches mature, out of this stony rubbish? This is highlighting the void of specific subjectivity and liberty. Capitalism is a mammoth beast the subjugates unique independence and there is a lament for looking the existential elixir of lifestyle.
A heap of broken pictures the place the sunlight beats, and the dead tree presents no shelter and the crickets no aid. The imagery used is a potent metaphor to issue out the utter decadence of human values and human dignity. Gentleman has long gone away from mother nature and is residing meaningless and purposeless lifestyle. There is stagnation and anomie, ruin and destruction.
When we arrived again from the hyacinth backyard, I could not converse, my eyes failed, and I was neither living nor dead. Is the poet urging to pay back remission to the collective conscience of humankind? Is it an exorcism of Freudian Phallic symbolism? The collective conscience is betrayed by the incessant gurgling of capitalist montage. Is there an overweening hubris in composing this verse?
Madam Sosotris is a well-known clairvoyant and she is studying the tarot. The cards which she picks are, the drowned Phoenician sailor, the hanged man, and the one-eyed merchant. Is the discourse on the tarot displaying what is unfertile, decadent and unfulfilled? The roots of existential existence are compromised with savage adherence to the occult and divination. Is the looking through of the cards an illusion for the residing of the existential self? Is it a dismissal of the reality that person can not bear the responsibilities of the existential self? Is it a perpetration of the violence of the other? Commercialism and vulgar materialism have wounded the entity of staying civilized.
In the brown fog of winter, a group is floating on London Bridge. Note, the imagery applied as floating resembles in clash of symbols. The themes of loneliness and alienation clash with the violence of egotism and self-appreciate.
The corpse you have planted in the backyard has started to sprout. The utilization of the metaphor as a corpse is an incitement of violence and carnality and it appears to be a protuberance of vanity and woundedness. Is what is sprouting a signal of demise? Is it the splendor of a faded flower? Does the poet develop into a cadaver of narcissism?
I believe we are in rat’s alley exactly where the useless males misplaced their bones. Is it a fetish of uncompromising narcissism? Does the meaning of lifestyle conclude with death? Does the soul of the poet clamor for an existential nirvana? Is the poet overburdened with the cares of the planet? Is it a figurative imagery that is epileptic in narcissism?
Oh, that Shakespearean rag it is so elegant it so clever Does the poet wanting to return to a fecund land of idealism? Is it an idiosyncratic gesture of the dying of human values? Does the poet feast his eyes on an age of literary glory? Is intelligence a departure from nature to an arrival in lifestyle?
The river’s tent is damaged, the previous fingers of leaf clutch sink into the moist financial institution. The wind crosses the brown land unheard. All the nymphs have departed? Is the tent a indication of cultural tabernacle that surviving doom and decay? Is it an expression of a social and cultural nihilism? The silence of the wind betrays a plague festering in the human head? The nymphs can be attributed to whores who have departed with their clientele. Is the poet portraying the pilferage of human values and human idealism?
The seem of horns and motors shall provide Sweeny to Ms. Porter. Who is the mystic Sweeny and why is he adulterated with the filth of an extramarital romance? Does the poet position out to the breaking down of chastity and moral values? Is the age a myriad of self-indulging narcissism?
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back again change upward from the desk, when the human engine waits like a taxi throbbing. Is the violet hour the period of time of the placing sunlight? Human motor is a metaphor for the physique and it is pulsating with everyday living for a secretive night of carrying out poetry on the bed.