Best Living Dead Poems
We steal from the mouths of strangers,
pluck vowels like fruit from someone else's tree,
and call it harvest.
Call it homage.
The dead speak louder than we do,
their sentences polished smooth by a thousand tongues,
worn into grooves we trace with our own breath.
I lift a phrase like lifting a stone from a river,
still wet with another writer's meanings,
and press it into the architecture of my own grief.
"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
But whose mind?
Whose death?
The words belong to everyone now,
to no one, a key passed hand to hand until the metal warms,
until we forget who first turned the lock.
Perhaps all poetry is borrowed,
each word a ghost we summon,
each line a seance where the living learn to speak
in the voices of those who wrote the world before us.
Held behind cold stone walls,
In silence, marched to work.
The shabby dressed walked prison halls,
Hell waits for those who shirk.
Breaking rocks or picking rope,
Naught to eat save gruel and bread,
Pointless toil, devoid of hope,
Here worked the living dead.
Mornings in the chapel praying,
The gathered wincing at the drops,
The hangman had the condemned swaying,
Yet more unworthy souls now cropped.
The chaplain looking down his nose,
He could better use his ministrations,
The faithless sat in squalid rows,
(As he prayed for a better station.)
Ne'er has a place been so bleak,
Nor seen more fear and woes,
If the Devil sought out company,
It would be here he chose.
From my window, darkness was quickly descending.
Costumed creatures were walking about, pretending
to be goblins and ghosts, expecting me to be scared
and totally freaked out, for which I was not prepared.
I'd been warned about evil spirts on Halloween night,
and vampires rising from coffins to give my neck a bite,
but no one had cautioned me, "Beware the living dead!"
I laughed it off and scoffed at a zombie's decayed head.
Around me creepy crawlers slithered. I felt an eerie chill.
but I was trick-or-treating for candy; my bag I'd yet to fill.
Across the blood red moon, flew witches in pointed hats.
Their dark silhouettes joined by a flock of shrieking bats!
I saw a man dressed as a baby, but he looked like a brute.
He growled at me, so I ran as he chased me in hot pursuit.
I thought I'd be attacked when suddenly there appeared
skeletons whose clicking bones pointed at me and jeered.
With worry I started thinking, Could these things be real?
Something nibbled on my hair. How horrid it made me feel!
I went to a house with a porch light, hoping for Tootsie Rolls,
but screamed when in the open door stood sneering Trolls.
I tried to convince myself that this was just some silly hoax,
by friends trying to make me cower with their wicked jokes.
With a bit of bravado, I rang another doorbell, undaunted,
but fled again when I saw signs that the house was haunted.
How I wished for the power to fly away on a witch's broom
and escape the macabre apparitions on this night of gloom.
Now filled with trepidation and dread, I darn near fainted
wondering if the sweet treats I'd collected were all tainted.
Somehow, I managed to make it home but could not sleep.
Snarls from under my bed gave me goosebumps, skin-deep.
October 22, 2022 ~ Halloween Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Rising from their graves,
Breaking through the ground,
Raised by radiation waves,
They are coming to your town.
Board up all your doors,
Nail them good and tight,
Or there will be blood and gore,
By the end of the night.
They tear down your walls,
Break through your window pane,
No one can help you at all,
When they try to eat your brain.
Those dead eyes make you shiver,
You scream out with alarm,
Zombies try to eat your liver,
And, chew on your leg and arm.
There is no point to tell her,
That it is just too late,
Go hide down in your cellar,
You cannot escape your fate.
Zombies are the living dead,
They do not easily expire,
So, cause injury to their head,
Or, burn them with fire.
Hungry zombies do not give,
Oh, you better run,
Or you will not live,
To see the rising sun.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
October, 11th, 2013
For Leonora Galinta's contest -
"Halloween-Only One Theme...Zombies!"
Along with a haunting horde trick-a-treating
Dressed as ghosts, ghouls and goblins,
Dancing dwarfs and teetering giants,
Despicable despots and snarling demons,
Pirates, warlords and mercenaries,
Blood-sucking vampires and wolverines,
Dracula, zombies and Frankenstein,
Skeletons, Spiderman and scarecrows,
Walking deads or the Grim Reaper,
Pretty princesses or the wicked witches,
We too tagged along with this
wild and weird looking carnival,
Hiding our sinister thoughts
and evil designs behind
our smiling Joker's masks
to garner the most candies and toys
with our macabre charm!
Very much so as in our mundane lives
Each morn after a fitful night,
We put on the masks of
good cheers and civility,
Hiding the day's concerns and care,
Envy, hate and jealousy
behind a hypocritical smile and keen dress.
But on this eerie night of Halloween,
We get to let our masks down for a while!
~"Halloween Poem" contest by Carol Eastman
Mysterious me
I'm mysterious, secretive,evasive
No friends, very little family
A Nomad traveling from city to city
State to state, country to country
No ties or obligations
I am free in my own mind.
I posses the inability to fear.
So I cast myself to lions and wolves
Wishing death but I constantly
Survive.
Gazing down the barrel of a loaded
Ak47, I smile and step forward
Pressing my head to the warm metal.
The enemy hesitates to seal my fate.
Russian roulette one bullet six holes five tries click, click, click,click,click
Most say I'm sick, to some it's a
Magic trick, I'm dancing with death
Following his footsteps . I'm not a
Mad man I'm just offering help.
Gang life I've played with the cartels
And mafia
The triads and yakuza
Gangsta disciples
Bloods and crips
Nick name no soul
With a Black heart, my eyes very
Cold.
Merchant of death to the highest
Bidder.
Cash, diamonds, or gold
What's the price? Ok I'm sold.
Military soldier slash henchman what you have captain? Its a dangerous mission, "well hell that's what I been missing" it's too hot for most but I'm
Perfect for the kitchen. "HM1 Do you desire to die"? Yes captain, "but why" So I looked in his eye and told the guy " I am who i am" with a loud
Battle cry.
Traveling the world from coast to coast enemies become friends that
Offer up a toast, but to my host
I'm a ghost. Mouth closed because I
Never boost. I Keep my enemies closer than most.
At the end of it all lies six bullet
Wounds, nine stab scars, ptsd,
Mental problems you can't see,
Self mutilation because my injuries
Are neck deep.
I can't weep
I can't sleep
I guess death killed me without
Moving a feet.
" Flower plucked from plant is like a new born baby dumped on road"
Bright, tender flower, my beauty all devour
Humans stop and look at me, faces full of glee
Joyous whole day, in breeze I sway
Many sisters and brothers, love chatting with others
Family loves me, am well fed must agree
When insects sit on me, I am filled with glee
As they commute, I will become a fruit
Such thoughts in mind lay, thinking of future I stay
~~~~~
One day plucked away, dropped on pathway
From my family faraway, alone I lay
Blow me wind I say, drop me where I stay
But much to my dismay, I am tossed away,
All stamp upon me, humans are beastly
To God I pray, for my early death, decay
Harshly am taken away, along with garbage I lay
Burnt alive,I am slain, I scream in pain
~~~~~
Many of us die this way, mercilessly humans slay
When plucked, alive we lay, waiting for death to take us away
LIVING DEAD, MANY TEARS SHED, EVERY MOMENT DREAD, SUCH A DEATHBED!
Wish humans understood our pain, and stopped being so inhumane
~~~~~
28 Jan 2021
Topic chosen - If I were a flower
All internal rhymes checked at Rhyme zone. End rhymes not intended.
Note: Brother and sisters indicate other flowers on the plant.
In India garbage is collected by municipality and burned
Take away the safety net
What remains
only the weak kill and call themselves men
A coward hides in the mountain of who they are
behind their own curse justifying wrongs
Tears falling each and every single day
suffering innocence weep
Self inflicted forged inside darkness
Mortal sin
The day will arrive
when you have to come out of your shell facing reality
Evil deeds done dirt cheap begging soul forgiveness
Blinding pure is the eyes of our Saviour
Salvation enslaved by guilt
poor is the heart where poison seeps
Rich forgiving pride the Lords prayer I say
Please God open their eyes to your peaceful presence
Make them aware of your goodness morally within
Open their souls to the truth
such deeds hold an ugly sin
Mercy on your damned soul
Such actions
destiny crumbles
inside their castle walls bleed burning with fire
Angry all their lives at everyone but themselves
Articles of faith strips them bare
I tip my eyes to the Lord
Blessing myself in the name of our Father the Holy trinity
Begging their forgiveness
One third of Man
blind faceless spill blood
cursing peace and His Holiness in the end days
While walking through a cemetery
Things were really quite ordinary
Until I finally saw
My "alive" mother-in-law
That's when it turned out to be quite scary
Association of the Living Dead Republicans
In India, several years ago
A man falsely claimed his brother
Was dead so he could inherit the family assets,
The dead brother had to fight
To be declared legally not dead
And contest the will.
“The Association of the Living Dead”
Became a movement
Of thousands of people.
For in India apparently,
It was a thing to declare
Your relative is dead.
I never thought
That the US would have
To form their own
“The Association of the Living Dead”
Until this week.
The cyber ninjas
In their infamous non-forensic audit
In the 2016 Arizona election
Claimed that hundreds of dead people
Had voted.
They gave their list of the alleged dead voters
To the attorney general
Who contact all 300 dead people
Found that 299 of the 300 were in fact
Not dead and none of them knew
That unnamed political operative
We’re claiming that they were dead.
The one dead voter was alive
when he voted early.
But died before election day
Thus making his vote not valid
But there was no fraud involved
As he was alive when he voted.
Perhaps they need to form
The “association of the living dead”
To fight for the right of the non-dead people
To continue to vote and receive other government benefits?
What a sad commentary
On the farcical nature
Of contemporary life
In these disunited States of America.
In a place many others often dread
Near the hollowed trees, and the haunted seas
She glides along the tumbledown cemetery
Deep down knowing those who are no longer living
Through bones remain, aren’t even truly dead
She’s Halloween even in winter’s fresh fallen snow
In the darkness where she dwells, you can hear the requiem bells
With the slip of her forked tongue
Escaping from her cracked pink lips
She breathed hell from above and heaven below
Mayhem descending deep in her mortuary eyes
With a wounded soul and a subtle droll
The silhouettes clawed their way through her silenced scream
As evening now mourns alongside buried webs
Where violence is forever worshipped and masked by a guise
Eternally hungry for pain if it’s followed by dying
Her path to creepy sin is always deep within
She rarely laments what she has lost for there is no use
It’s merely her own poisoned point of view
Walking through the flames of her blackened heart crying
Hellfire’s fallen angel as the moonlight’s watchful slave
Past the hangman’s curfew and the blood she holds true
The downside between the dolor of lost souls
Her white gown of gloom flowed ‘neath her bare feet
Illuminating the etched headstone on her ready open grave
On All Hallows’ Eve, everyone's entitled to one good scare
So don’t turn around, Living Dead Girl might be standing there
November 28, 2022
Halloween Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
O Tony, wherefore dost thou feel out of sorts?
Existing so - tho' not soothly living.
Haps thou art the living dead which resorts
Into its cold chamber ne'er living.
She gets high on suicide
Cos that’s the aphrodisiac
Running through her veins
At some point soon
She’ll hear that tune
Pushing her nearer
To her doom
The note is already in her head
Recited from the living dead
Goodbye world
It’s time to go
I never had a chance
But don’t feel sorry for little me
Cos this is the day I finally see
Maybe next time you never know
But for now it’s time to go
Finally, falling fast asleep
Exactly like they said
The note now lying beside her head
The final extract it simply read
Recited from the living dead.
A vast multitude adorn in dregs purloining,
Fashionable filth clocked with piety,
Showmanship on sacred alters,
Multitude of compromised public orators.
Fair formalities of professors void of sincerity,
A subtle subversion of ancient landmark.
As scandalous abomination alters this call,
The affinity of sheep and the goats,
While men slept, a mixture of poison,
Clerics of the dark kingdom,
With multitudes of biblical illiterate,
Suiting the flesh, seeking Dara prim relief,
Unconquered flesh and gain seekers
Ego vaunting and magical scene to attract multitudes,
Scarcity of Teachers with spirit power.
Public show devoid of private piety, attending our days.
The Holy Lord suspended as men with itching ear socialize.
Ichabod! The emblem on our walls.
Magicians on pulpits lacking puritanical piety.
Simon the sorcerers with microphones as Peters are murdered John banished,
The Constantine type Christianity with allegiance to the state, unwilling to the stake.
Where Ahab is pampered by Elijah.
And Jehoshaphat in affinity with enemies of Truth
Religion devoid of righteousness.
Is this the cause for which God became man?
Take away the dross
Oh, for an impassion commitment to duty
Oh, for another awakening, with enthusiasm for truth.
Oh, for a real revival.
Yeshua hamashiach,
Beneath thy cross I own my guilt
Revive thy work, Bring us back to Life.
He couldn't feel her or hear her,
Simply because he chose not to,
But believe it or not she was there with him everyday trying to point him,
Out of harms way.
He was always a daredevil,
Anger built up inside,
Tears welled up in his eyes,
He missed his sister all too much.
He didn't cut anymore for he had a beautiful wife, and three gorgeous children,
But somehow that wasn't enough,
He wanted her back.
This time he heard her voice,
And he saw her face,
He was astounded.
He fell to his knees as he had the night she died,
He put his head in his hands,
And he began to weep.
She rubbed his back,
She hated seeing him this way,
Then he asked in a belittled voice,
"What should I do sis?"
She replied,
"Stay strong for me, your wife, and kids."
But all he wanted to do was be with his sister again,
But she told him to strong and so he stayed strong,
He lived to be one hundred and ten years old,
It was then that he died of old age, a broken heart, and an illness,
But at least he joined her again,
It was then they were truly happy,
He found his wife there,
And started waiting for children and grandchildren.
He loves that Living Dead Girl,
Whom was once his sister.
Always~N~Forever,
Briana Lynn
Finished:09-20-13 @12:47A.M.