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The path is getting blurry,
My words are slurry.

Lazarus plot imminent,
Have to be diligent.

My mind has been flayed,
My soul slayed.
Mother of Cowards
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

So unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Spread-eagled, showering gold, a strumpet stands:
A much-used trollop with a torch, whose flame
Has long since been extinguished. And her name?
"Mother of Cowards!" From her enervate hand
Soft ash descends. Her furtive eyes demand
Allegiance to her ****'s repulsive game.

"Keep, ancient lands, your wretched poor!" cries she
With scarlet lips. "Give me your hale, your whole,
Your huddled tycoons, yearning to be pleased!
The wretched refuse of your toilet hole?
Oh, never send one unwashed child to me!
I await Trump's pleasure by the gilded bowl!"

NOTE: My sonnet is a parody of the famous poem "The New Colossus" written about the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus. Keywords/Tags: America, American history, liberty, United States, Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus, Statue of Liberty, Lady Liberty, torch, freedom, beacon, lamp, light, door, golden door, liberty, immigrants, immigration, refuse, homeless, poor, rich, discrimination, huddled masses, yearning, breath free, giant, fame, free, freedom of speech, independence day, New York, patriotic
Cyd Nov 2018
You were autumn in the bush that kept me at least tepid, as I made the unknowing decision to journey through that barren waste land. If I was anything to you i was a grain of wheat, I had to let my love for your fall and perish before us. You spent four nights inside of my tomb. You lead me to love myself in my own self perpetuated hell. Four nights I was able to set aside the fig leaves my late father gifted me. On the fourth you left my walls stained, the same color of your blood. Like Lazarus, it had seemed as though you brought me back. My yearning no longer a lamb but a wolf, with the sharp, black eyes that refused to be covered. And you were just another false prophecy.
Charming Blather Nov 2017
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?---
When I look at you:
I am going to look at you while the
napkin is slowly peeled from
my face.
I am going to look at you
while I stand rooted into the ground,
my feet covered in cloth, rooted into reality.
Into the Earth
I manage it---
I have done it again.
I have won the theatrical:
beaten the odds, defeated the Queen--Myself:
a goddess. A God.
I do not rise like the ashes;
I sink like a charm.
Donall Dempsey May 2017
Tear down tear down
the Statue of Liberty

it doesn't say
what it said before.

Or somehow somewhere
the meaning has gone astray

words on a plaque
no more.

The famous Lazarus sonnet
you know the one.

The New Colossus has grown

Her "imprisoned lightning "
the forgotten flame

her forgotten name

"Give me your...." Yeah...yeah!
"...your tired, your poor..." Sure...sure
- heard it all before.
"...huddle masses yearning to breathe
free..." I mean....really.
Yadda Yadda Yadda the words
ring false...the chimes of freedom
oh don't make me laugh
"...the wretched refuse of your teeming shore..." Words words
nothing more!

The New Collosus weeps
her green tears

the tarnished golden door

"...the homeless tempest tossed"
our indignation soon lost.

"La Liberté éclairant le monde?"

Trump is in his
White House and

all's not right
with the world.




Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight, LORD,
my Rock and my Redeemer.

Good Morning Beloved

It is good to be among you this morning.

Let us pray….

Gracious Lord

As we sojourn the pathways of life
You have brought us to the places
Of ecstatic splendorous peaks

You have blessed us with resounding joys
You have filled us with good things
The grace of your unconditional love
Is made manifest in the abundant life
you have promised to all your children
We bless you Lord for your provision
And your unfailing unrequited love

You have also humbled us Lord
With times of perplexing trial,
deep sorrows and pointed loss

Our earthly journey
has led us to places
of dread, devastation
sickness and pending death

Our plans and aspirations
Have turned to dust
Our eyes fill with tears

Our crestfallen hearts
have hardened
We fail to receive the
balm of love

We have been routed
We have lost the battle
We have been conquered
by separation, sin and despair

The spirit of life
Has evaporated
From our bodies

All that remains
Are dry bones

Scattered in the
valley of death

hidden by the shadows
In the nadir of our lives

Yet your abiding love
remains the
strong Present Helper
calling us to your light

May we rise from our
Afflictions as Lazarus
did when called by his
beloved friend Jesus

May your grace anoint
Our ears with the sound of
The Great Resurrectors voice

May you stir our hearts
With the wisdom of your will

May you bless our lips
With the grace of prophecy

That we may
Prophesy to the broken
And brittle bones of our lives

Prophecy to the bones
so they may be joined
With sinew and flesh again

May your words
Become flesh

May we walk again
In the land of the living
And rejoin the beloved
At the table of
Your abundant grace

In The Good Deliver's Name
We pray...


Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday

Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones,
John 11, The Death of Lazarus

Prayer of the Dry Bones
Faith Lutheran Church
Lavallette NJ
4th Sunday in Lent
Lenten Prayer, Valley of Dry Bones, Raising of Lazarus
delivered 4th Sunday in Lent
Faith Lutheran Church
Lavallette, NY
And when I lay dying on floorboards
Totems planked like Tetris
I, liver, gut, blood
Cried my psyche spare me
We all glow like embers
When we start to burn from the inside

And when I lay dying on floorboards
What did we talk about?
Lazarus, you black angel
Why do you linger so
Painful on the edge
Of death and the veil?

Talk to me
It’s just me, it’s just me
It’s just me, it’s just me
And all the awful things you say
It’s just me
It’s just me
It’s just me
It's just me
ryn May 2016
"My David don't you worry
This cold world is not for you
So rest your head upon me
I have strength to carry you"
- Lazarus by Porcupine Tree*

When the ways of the world
just seem too much.
When everything just doesn't click together
like they should.
Puzzle pieces that incessantly mock
when they don't fit.
When the tears don't soothe like they
promised they would.

When you're up to your neck,
almost fully submerged.
When the fatigue you feel comes from constantly
treading water.
And desperately you try to
keep yourself afloat.
But relentless storms fail not to threaten,
and rip you asunder.

Remember that we're only here on
borrowed time.
And that the everyday's sun will set
after its daily reign of tyranny.
What good are these arms
if they stayed folded shut.
They only invite you fall deep into me.
Now embosomed, I'll carry you to safety.
Prabhu Iyer Dec 2014
ome orth azarus, come th laz, ome for zus
echo in the winds outside the empty cave;

In the desert an insurrection
to deluge the earth from cauldrons of faith;
Tinderbox by the Dneiper, an interview stolen;

Dance of Ishtar caged, the demiurge call.

Treading on ice, our mortal lives;

Ancient wells wailing with the earth;

A vessel weathering the storm, sinking
now at Galilee.

At Golgotha, by the empty Crucifix;
it all began here in Bethlehem where we wait.;=NKJV
Rl Apr 2014
I've only been on this earth for 17 years
But already had the good honour of experiencing
evil and good from the youth of my peers

My precious vessel, you deserve nothing but the best
learn from my mistakes and make your life rest

One: The acne on your face does not determine how beautiful you as a person
Neither you're weight, height or stature. Your skin a shade of wonder, wear only the (dna) makeup of me and your father

Two: Your body is your temple, not a museum for those who want to feast on your flesh, for those dead eyes are shady and they want nothing less.

Three: Fall in love with everything around you, the stars, sky and moon. The sound of laughter, the rain drops too. Look from balconies and trees at the veins of the cities. And take pictures of people and weddings, savouring silver white memories.

Four: Make your own mistakes and learn. You are allowed to feel pain, there is still blood in you veins but don't let that sweep you away away away on dandelion heads

Five: Dearest, don't worry for a moment what they think; be prepared when they want to see you sink, respond with dimples, sunshine and light. For this is what makes the darkness strike

Six: Finally My girl love yourself, for all that you are and want to be; the music you love, the food you detest, those long family outings and that boy that you like best.

The list could go on and on with verse and song and book and word but Dear Daughter let this be the basis of your life. Carry it and write it on your flesh beating heart. For your flesh beating heart deserves life in it fullest.

©Rebekah Lazarus 2014
Just a draft, but a letter to my future daughter if I ever have one about how to survive life as a teen from a fellow teen. You never know in 10 years I may re- write this.

— The End —