| The Old Erebus | 
| But, like the depraved giant of Greek fame, | 
| With conquering whims that tweet from hand to hand; | 
| Here at our white-washed, prison wall shall guard | 
| A weighty no-man with a lurch, whose lame | 
| Excuses rain like lightning, and his name | 
| Hater of Others. From his bacon-hand | 
| Grows mouth-wide sneer; his blind eyes command | 
| The liar. Rigged ardor, that gives citizens blame. | 
| “Keep, lands ancient, your pomp storied!” cries he | 
| With widened lips. “Send not your tired, your poor, | 
| Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, | 
| The wretched refuse of my egoistic snore. | 
| Send those, the homeless, tempest-tossed home, | 
| or to light my lamp beside the
  golden door!”  © Tracy Kolenchuk, Healthicine | 
Thursday, August 24, 2017
The Old Erebus (The New Colossus Revised for the current times)
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