((Zombies have always scared me. Bad. I can’t watch zombie movies (with the exception of “Shaun of the Dead”) because they give me terrible nightmares. In an effort to “exorcise” some of this fear, I wrote a poem for Halloween some time ago. It’s about zombies. And it’s scary. But the video trailer is pretty funny. You were warned. :P))
~ Waking the Dead ~
A chill wind blows across the pregnant moon,
clouding sky and darkening night.
The midnight hour is just now past,
and the shadows take winged flight.
The blackness hovers ’round the rippling ground,
caressing the crumbling stones…
From beneath them, now, there comes a sound
of aging, rotted bones.
Filthy, ragged fingertips punch through dirt,
clawing steadily to reach night’s air…
The clods of mucked earth fall away,
Revealing a skull, and matted chunks of hair.
It groans an empty, whispered hiss,
the vocal chords all rot and slime.
Climbing slowly out of putrescent mud,
clothes naught but rags and putrid grime.
Its dead, cold, fishy eyes aware,
the zombie struggles free.
No more caged in wretched grave!
The wormy lips twist in wicked glee.
Nearby, another corpse shambles forth,
spilling liquid, from its stinking tomb.
Sliding out of the muddy, squelching earth,
it too, moans tortured doom.
Slick earthworms writhe through rotten flesh,
and the sickening death-stench grows…
Beetles scuttle through a gaping, slack mouth,
and glistening black, scurry back,
through the nose.
The soft plop of an eyeball as it wetly slides
down a cheek in a dangling glare.
Ages of maggots have done their dank work
Green, decayed meat falls here and there.
The army of Death is gathering,
unholy groans carried on the foul wind.
All the dead shall rise and walk the Earth
and Apocolypse shall begin…
Staggering, shambling, lurching forms
announced by the ripe smell of flesh rotten,
they move with skeletal, faltering steps
towards the warm blood they’d almost forgotten.
Craving the life they’ll never have again,
their sorrow and fury complete.
Hungering, thousands of them wake!
To roam the unsuspecting streets!
By morning, none living will remain,
the fearful screams and thuds will have ceased….
The only sounds will be of the dead…insane…
as they gather to the fresh flesh feast!
Beware of the gluttony of the walking dead,
for your fear whets their appetite!
And pray that when they come for you,
you’ll be among the first to die tonight…
~ C.L.R. ~ ©