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Tessa A shackelford

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The Murder, The Lament, The Resurrection, and Eventual Shunning of Lazzarus William Thespis
by Tessa A shackelford

Monday, July 22, 2002

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Murdered by many hands,
Like Ceasar of the Daggers,
Lazzarus fell and there was carted off
To die with the simple honors of a Pentacostal Family
(Now Four Square but then the Word was yet to become Fresh and dwell amoung us).
And like Ceasar of Old, he too had enemies gained by back-handed dates and
Self-Induced loathing.
He died and we all blaimed ourselves though I the worse because he blaimed me as well.
One girl attemped suicide, one girl still held on with fleeting hope, and one was blessed by
His good graces.
And so it came to pass that Lazzarus, after being buried with the hatchet,
Was lamented, respectfully, untill the Fall auditions.
The sackcloths were worn and the ashes smeared upon the faces,
The wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth followed.
Though not all mourned, some were glad too see him dead
And lamented not once over his murder and pass-over.
I cried a Missouri over his grave yet no one really cared nor wished me
Pity and I did not derserve any anyhow
(murderors get no respect these days).
After the season of mourning was over and we ripped off the black
Widow dresses,
The rock was rolled and yea,
Lazzarus was now resurrected,
Yet not the same.
His murder made him just as spiteful and angry and my pleading did not compensate.
The prayers and masses said in his honour did not apease the soul and thus I was scorned
Yet again.
He left for the Wastes and pleasures of the sinple Four-Square life
(The Word, now fresh, was ripe for harvest by this era)
That he now occupied and wrote playes for his church and preformed for the
Faithful.
And we, those that mourned, were spited.
And thus we shunned Lazarus, still stinking with his death decay,
And moved on.
I became John Phillip Sousa and
The new Saint of the Band.

Both all and Some.


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