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Naveen Malhotra Sep 2020
Sometimes hearts meet
Sometimes hearts break
Relations are at stake
When they carry price tags
Put 'Not for Sale' plaque
Bring the relations on track
Donall Dempsey May 2017
JULY IV MDCCLXXVI
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
old...senile.

Her "imprisoned lightning "
the forgotten flame

her forgotten name
"THE MOTHER OF EXILES."

"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.


****

THE NEW COLOSSUS

EMMA LAZARUS

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!”
emily grace Jul 2015
you were attached to me like art in a museum
you were my mona lisa
and i simply was the plaque underneath
MST Oct 2014
You ripped my heart out,
like the dentist ripped my tooth,
grinding at my plaque,
and cutting out my vein.
pick and flick every bit,
to make me shine again.
Darvoid Mar 2014
Poor poor toothbrush
Precariously perched upon the porcelain precipice
Each night I push your plastic pricklies into my plentiful plaque
Only to reduce you to your perch
To ponder your pitiful plight
I commited this to memory from my childhood. I don't know who wrote it. There was a cartoon attached of a little dog looking up at the toothbrush on the edge of the sink.

— The End —