fire weed they call it , I thought it was a sort of loosestrife, nodding purple tapers,fighting up through the rubble of the bombsites that still pock marked the neighbourhood in the seventies. Toxteth must have been prosperous once , our dank and decaying building , stubborn tiny garret windows, hissing shilling in the slot gas fires, peeling layers of paint, red, green, brown, blue, once it was a posh family home, once my flat was a maids room, did she look out over the rooftops, climb out on the dizzy tiles on a sunny day, make friends with cats who climbed in the window for midnight saucers of milk, walk in Faulkner Square all misty in the morning as Liverpool woke up?
geraldine
wasteland. its a place where everything that is wasted goes. once it goes there it can never come back again. no matter what you do its impossible to get it back. almost like a lost soul everything just floats and floats never finding a home and never getting back
Caroline
As the world becomes filled with more and more people, our waste begins to build up. What have we done to this world, a world that has nursed us since our birth? We have created wastelands full of garbage, not just on land, but also in the ocean. Thousands of square miles of water bottles are littered across the ocean floor.
Danielle
wasteland is derelect, there is often rubbish on it. Perhaps this is because people think it’s ok to leave rubbish in a space which itself could also be thought of as rubbish. waste land can be lonely but also a treasure trove of different things to discover.
lucy
a place where no matter what you do or what you know all your efforts go no where, there is no one listening, no one watching. You are just being wasted. Time to move from this wasteland to a Appreciation Land or even thank you land :)
Ian
In Malaysia we ave lots of wasteland. Wasteland that are swamps filled with ud or those that cannot b citivated But I digress. Wasteland actually serves a useful purpo
the world is a wasteland , that is a point of view. the amount of waste paper, food, cans , bottles , clothes ,hangers and cartons and so on and so on is mind blowing . These could be scattered all over the world . Planes could go up and throw down all the rubbish , scatter it all over the forests, mountain tops , everywhere and then a Charity could set up and say they want people to be sponsored to pick it up. From the point of view of human emotions and thoughts the world is a wasteland . How often do you think about things which are just waste of time to think about ? You would be better off tidying or cleaning or writng a letter to a lonely person or hundreds of thousand of other things. your emotions are wasted often , you feel happy – this is good but if you waste the emotion it is bad , when you feel happy try to make another person happy too, or do something difficult because you have the emotional energy, try synergy , try to link up the emotion with somebody else.
Anna Grogan
After the tornados ripped through the country, the land lay barren, a wasteland, good for nothing.
My land. The flowers are gone, the children are either dead or do not understand. I float over the ruins, just realizing I am dead. Then I wake up in a different world, but the wasteland is still wasted. Reunited, never healed though.
Mountains of bent metal, shattered glass, splintered boxes, sofas, car parts, windows, doors, everything that society rejected. It all built up. The sun over the wastelands was lifeless and glaring. I squinted as I begin the ascent up the tallest mass of trash, and I caught a glimpse of the king at the top, his black robes shaking in the wind.
dark, desolate, empty, a solitary crow flies over the burnt ashy ground, there’s nothing there, nobody about, noone
tash
The wasteland spread before me. I had gone to sleep in the brilliantly green meadow under an evening sky. But I woke to this destroyed landscape. What happened? How did I sleep through it?
I don’t know much about wastelands, but I guess the birds seem to like them. I mean you always see them there picking through trash. I guess that is also the reason why bums go through them. If you think about it, birds are just little bums with wings and feathers. They are always picking through the trash and begging for food, also possibly pooping themselves where ever they are. Anyway, I guess wastelands could be cool. All depends on your perspective.
Bo
America. Honestly? I don’t even know what to think anymore. I am starting to worry that we’ll become a dead end society. We should be more. IDK how. But we should. I think of Alaska. or of the Sahara. of trash piling up in a city. of Detroit. I think of the auto industry.
brooke
he opened his eyes to face a wasteland. out of the grey masses spread miles and miles, he saw a bright red ribbon tied to the neck of a teddy bear.
passion X
seriously? here?
absolutely, you’re gonna spend the next seven hours right here, just the three of you.
he looked around beholding the wasteland, “i should’ve just done my homework instead” he thought to himself before he began navigating
my heart was barren and empty since it had been vacated. tumbleweeds of coke cans and squashed plastic bottles compressed (as my thoughts had been) rolled across with the bitter winds of winter, whistling through my bones. my eyes were lifeless as the sand at my feet being meekly tossed about by something bigger and better.
i’ve done this word before, and i said that it was about this lyric of this song (slow hands) and it goes sth like “can you see what you’ve done to my heart, and soul? such a wasteland now” and yeah. i didnt fill in my details so i had to do this again. groan. but it’s kinda fun you know?
Amalina Ariffin
they look out side for the first time in years…it was a wasteland, the killjoys had to stop it, they had to destroy bl/ink to stop this, they had to destroy HIM. Fun ghoul, kobra kid, jet star and party poision, and with them were there killjoys out to save the world
jen kelly
Some people say parts of Australia are a wasteland, but are they? Is desert always a waste?
I think of the wasteland of a lions empty carcass. Strawberry red velvet flowing everywhere, and a sweet soul lost in battle of a love one. Why should these creatures have to fight over girls…and die at the cost of being not strong enough. And lose them to an undeserving lion.
macauley lane
In a wasteland lived a beautiful lady. Everyone was jealous of her radio, for it was the only radio in the wastes. So some one broke into her house, and stole it. She cried. Her tears made her turn into a radio herself. All metallic and silver, with red buttons. Because, don’t we all want to be silver metallic radios with red buttons? I sure do.
A great wasteland stretched out before her. A silvered desert scrubbed with shrubs and sand. It seemed to round up at the edges like a bowl and the moon floated lowly in its dip. She cried out to it in a howl, listening for a return. The fur on the back of her neck rose in excitement when the call was returned and she realized she wouldn’t have to make this journey alone.
ok so wasteland is basically land that is wasted. Generally with areas of patchy grass or tumbleweed rolling about. its looks desolate or it can be used for dumping people’s waste because the land is no good for anything else really. bit of a stupid word i think haha
Mel
The arid landscape stretched ahead for what seemed to go on forever. No one in the small group could tell what had happened to turn this area into a wasteland, but knew it had to be bad.
Beayvee
I woke up to find myself here. It was where I remember waking up years ago. “Why does this keep happening?” I thought to myself as I dusted off my trousers. Nothing but rock. Complete and utter silence without the wind blowing or city stirring. This place was my home, and it forever beckoned me.
Kevin
In a wasteland a beautiful lady lived. and everyone was jealous of her radio. So some one broke into her house, and took it. She cried. Her tears made her turn into a radio herself. All metallic and silver. With red buttons. Because, don’t we all want to be metallic radios with red buttons?
Laura
wastelands are dry, but sometimes they’re not. there was once a wasteland that got flooded. flooded with the tears of someone. whose these tears were was not known. an explorer came, picked up some of the tears, stored it in a bag and tested for dna. except tears cannot be tested for dna, or so his teacher said.
Alekhya
I’m hoomg’ wasteland’ is the word I’m supposed to be writing about. It’s incredible how event he most mundane and overused word becomes difficult to write about when you’re under pressure. I realise now my keyb
it’s a wasteland in here, there’s nothing for me to see except the twisted hunks of metal and half-burned blackened candles. their wicks don’t give me light any more, but that’s okay because i’ve learned how to find my way in the darkness.
maybe i can fumble around corners and pat down buildings and try try try so hard to discover the meaning of life when there’s nobody here anymore. but the truth is i still know this isn’t real and i’m so trapped in my twisted nightmares that i can’t figure out what’s the truth anymore.
my mind is a city empty of life or starlight or sunshine. and sometimes i think i can see blood staining the streets.
delaney raynes
in the movie the lion king after simba leaves scar turns priderock into a waste land because he eats all of the animals and doesnt take care of the pride. wasteland is also at the county fair where they dump all the trash in the ground and its covered up and now we park there for the fair.
Nicole Welsch
empty, barren, hopeless, neglected piece of land or space, cities left to decay, pople made hopeless by their envirnoment, no where to go, seems vast yet has borders if you look hard enough
Sinead Cronin
Our world is a wasteland. I don’t care what anyone else says, Earth has turned into a polluted, ugly place. What happened to the rolling fields, the blossoming meadows, the flowing rivers, the luscious rainforests?
Don’t try to blame someone else – WE did it – and no matter what we say, humans will continue to destroy our planet. Until the last blade of grass, the last flower, is trampled – gone.
Is what I imagine Hell to be like. Nothing beautiful. Nothing meaningful. Just the remains of someone else’s dreams, someone else’s life. One that is not yours, and never will be.
Brooke
Fear. Noise. Emptiness
It was gone, all gone
The blood trickled from his eye
“It’s over, it’s all over”
This is the end
Wasteland
Michael
Deserted and gorgeous there are no people here to suck and no one to tell me I’m not good enough. This disgusting home to for me and for all the creatures who are like me makes my existence more pure somehow. A wasteland in my heart and a wasteland around me, what could be more perfect?
Sadie Norlin
The park was desolate; an urban wasteland. The once-active merry-go-round was rusted in place, the swing squeaked with the slightest breath of wind, and the slide was a child’s weight away from collapsing, its supports entirely rotted through. NO child played there anymore. The only evidence of humans traipsing though were a few discarded beer bottles, their labels crinkled from the damp air.
fire weed they call it , I thought it was a sort of loosestrife, nodding purple tapers,fighting up through the rubble of the bombsites that still pock marked the neighbourhood in the seventies. Toxteth must have been prosperous once , our dank and decaying building , stubborn tiny garret windows, hissing shilling in the slot gas fires, peeling layers of paint, red, green, brown, blue, once it was a posh family home, once my flat was a maids room, did she look out over the rooftops, climb out on the dizzy tiles on a sunny day, make friends with cats who climbed in the window for midnight saucers of milk, walk in Faulkner Square all misty in the morning as Liverpool woke up?
wasteland. its a place where everything that is wasted goes. once it goes there it can never come back again. no matter what you do its impossible to get it back. almost like a lost soul everything just floats and floats never finding a home and never getting back
As the world becomes filled with more and more people, our waste begins to build up. What have we done to this world, a world that has nursed us since our birth? We have created wastelands full of garbage, not just on land, but also in the ocean. Thousands of square miles of water bottles are littered across the ocean floor.
wasteland is derelect, there is often rubbish on it. Perhaps this is because people think it’s ok to leave rubbish in a space which itself could also be thought of as rubbish. waste land can be lonely but also a treasure trove of different things to discover.
a place where no matter what you do or what you know all your efforts go no where, there is no one listening, no one watching. You are just being wasted. Time to move from this wasteland to a Appreciation Land or even thank you land :)
In Malaysia we ave lots of wasteland. Wasteland that are swamps filled with ud or those that cannot b citivated But I digress. Wasteland actually serves a useful purpo
the wasteland reminds me that there is a time in which we need to reflect and meditate on ourselves. it is the calm that we couldn’t get inside us.
torn, broken, depleted
I wonder if I will ever feel it again
the view of myself has become surreal
bleak visions
the world is a wasteland , that is a point of view. the amount of waste paper, food, cans , bottles , clothes ,hangers and cartons and so on and so on is mind blowing . These could be scattered all over the world . Planes could go up and throw down all the rubbish , scatter it all over the forests, mountain tops , everywhere and then a Charity could set up and say they want people to be sponsored to pick it up. From the point of view of human emotions and thoughts the world is a wasteland . How often do you think about things which are just waste of time to think about ? You would be better off tidying or cleaning or writng a letter to a lonely person or hundreds of thousand of other things. your emotions are wasted often , you feel happy – this is good but if you waste the emotion it is bad , when you feel happy try to make another person happy too, or do something difficult because you have the emotional energy, try synergy , try to link up the emotion with somebody else.
After the tornados ripped through the country, the land lay barren, a wasteland, good for nothing.
My land. The flowers are gone, the children are either dead or do not understand. I float over the ruins, just realizing I am dead. Then I wake up in a different world, but the wasteland is still wasted. Reunited, never healed though.
Mountains of bent metal, shattered glass, splintered boxes, sofas, car parts, windows, doors, everything that society rejected. It all built up. The sun over the wastelands was lifeless and glaring. I squinted as I begin the ascent up the tallest mass of trash, and I caught a glimpse of the king at the top, his black robes shaking in the wind.
dark, desolate, empty, a solitary crow flies over the burnt ashy ground, there’s nothing there, nobody about, noone
The wasteland spread before me. I had gone to sleep in the brilliantly green meadow under an evening sky. But I woke to this destroyed landscape. What happened? How did I sleep through it?
I don’t know much about wastelands, but I guess the birds seem to like them. I mean you always see them there picking through trash. I guess that is also the reason why bums go through them. If you think about it, birds are just little bums with wings and feathers. They are always picking through the trash and begging for food, also possibly pooping themselves where ever they are. Anyway, I guess wastelands could be cool. All depends on your perspective.
America. Honestly? I don’t even know what to think anymore. I am starting to worry that we’ll become a dead end society. We should be more. IDK how. But we should. I think of Alaska. or of the Sahara. of trash piling up in a city. of Detroit. I think of the auto industry.
he opened his eyes to face a wasteland. out of the grey masses spread miles and miles, he saw a bright red ribbon tied to the neck of a teddy bear.
seriously? here?
absolutely, you’re gonna spend the next seven hours right here, just the three of you.
he looked around beholding the wasteland, “i should’ve just done my homework instead” he thought to himself before he began navigating
my heart was barren and empty since it had been vacated. tumbleweeds of coke cans and squashed plastic bottles compressed (as my thoughts had been) rolled across with the bitter winds of winter, whistling through my bones. my eyes were lifeless as the sand at my feet being meekly tossed about by something bigger and better.
i’ve done this word before, and i said that it was about this lyric of this song (slow hands) and it goes sth like “can you see what you’ve done to my heart, and soul? such a wasteland now” and yeah. i didnt fill in my details so i had to do this again. groan. but it’s kinda fun you know?
they look out side for the first time in years…it was a wasteland, the killjoys had to stop it, they had to destroy bl/ink to stop this, they had to destroy HIM. Fun ghoul, kobra kid, jet star and party poision, and with them were there killjoys out to save the world
Some people say parts of Australia are a wasteland, but are they? Is desert always a waste?
I think of the wasteland of a lions empty carcass. Strawberry red velvet flowing everywhere, and a sweet soul lost in battle of a love one. Why should these creatures have to fight over girls…and die at the cost of being not strong enough. And lose them to an undeserving lion.
In a wasteland lived a beautiful lady. Everyone was jealous of her radio, for it was the only radio in the wastes. So some one broke into her house, and stole it. She cried. Her tears made her turn into a radio herself. All metallic and silver, with red buttons. Because, don’t we all want to be silver metallic radios with red buttons? I sure do.
A great wasteland stretched out before her. A silvered desert scrubbed with shrubs and sand. It seemed to round up at the edges like a bowl and the moon floated lowly in its dip. She cried out to it in a howl, listening for a return. The fur on the back of her neck rose in excitement when the call was returned and she realized she wouldn’t have to make this journey alone.
ok so wasteland is basically land that is wasted. Generally with areas of patchy grass or tumbleweed rolling about. its looks desolate or it can be used for dumping people’s waste because the land is no good for anything else really. bit of a stupid word i think haha
The arid landscape stretched ahead for what seemed to go on forever. No one in the small group could tell what had happened to turn this area into a wasteland, but knew it had to be bad.
I woke up to find myself here. It was where I remember waking up years ago. “Why does this keep happening?” I thought to myself as I dusted off my trousers. Nothing but rock. Complete and utter silence without the wind blowing or city stirring. This place was my home, and it forever beckoned me.
In a wasteland a beautiful lady lived. and everyone was jealous of her radio. So some one broke into her house, and took it. She cried. Her tears made her turn into a radio herself. All metallic and silver. With red buttons. Because, don’t we all want to be metallic radios with red buttons?
wastelands are dry, but sometimes they’re not. there was once a wasteland that got flooded. flooded with the tears of someone. whose these tears were was not known. an explorer came, picked up some of the tears, stored it in a bag and tested for dna. except tears cannot be tested for dna, or so his teacher said.
I’m hoomg’ wasteland’ is the word I’m supposed to be writing about. It’s incredible how event he most mundane and overused word becomes difficult to write about when you’re under pressure. I realise now my keyb
I hate the word wasteland.
it’s a wasteland in here, there’s nothing for me to see except the twisted hunks of metal and half-burned blackened candles. their wicks don’t give me light any more, but that’s okay because i’ve learned how to find my way in the darkness.
maybe i can fumble around corners and pat down buildings and try try try so hard to discover the meaning of life when there’s nobody here anymore. but the truth is i still know this isn’t real and i’m so trapped in my twisted nightmares that i can’t figure out what’s the truth anymore.
my mind is a city empty of life or starlight or sunshine. and sometimes i think i can see blood staining the streets.
in the movie the lion king after simba leaves scar turns priderock into a waste land because he eats all of the animals and doesnt take care of the pride. wasteland is also at the county fair where they dump all the trash in the ground and its covered up and now we park there for the fair.
empty, barren, hopeless, neglected piece of land or space, cities left to decay, pople made hopeless by their envirnoment, no where to go, seems vast yet has borders if you look hard enough
Our world is a wasteland. I don’t care what anyone else says, Earth has turned into a polluted, ugly place. What happened to the rolling fields, the blossoming meadows, the flowing rivers, the luscious rainforests?
Don’t try to blame someone else – WE did it – and no matter what we say, humans will continue to destroy our planet. Until the last blade of grass, the last flower, is trampled – gone.
Is what I imagine Hell to be like. Nothing beautiful. Nothing meaningful. Just the remains of someone else’s dreams, someone else’s life. One that is not yours, and never will be.
Fear. Noise. Emptiness
It was gone, all gone
The blood trickled from his eye
“It’s over, it’s all over”
This is the end
Wasteland
Deserted and gorgeous there are no people here to suck and no one to tell me I’m not good enough. This disgusting home to for me and for all the creatures who are like me makes my existence more pure somehow. A wasteland in my heart and a wasteland around me, what could be more perfect?
The park was desolate; an urban wasteland. The once-active merry-go-round was rusted in place, the swing squeaked with the slightest breath of wind, and the slide was a child’s weight away from collapsing, its supports entirely rotted through. NO child played there anymore. The only evidence of humans traipsing though were a few discarded beer bottles, their labels crinkled from the damp air.