Best Zombie Poems
You will find a Zombie or two
Roaming through a big city,
They are lost without a clue
Their drugs have given them no pity
Eyes stare vacantly into space
They need a fix to get that high
Of their true selves there is no trace
Empty shells with one more drug to try
They chase illusions in their veins
From dawn to the setting of the sun,
Going nowhere on Zombie trains,
Is all hope lost, or are they done
5-12-2023
Writing Challenge - 'Z' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
She cries comets of burning ice
rocketing through a wilderness of bleeding rubies
her constellation, Anaconda, the 13th Sign, drinker of soul wine,
Her cheeks permafrosted with white agony
the accumulation of eons without the lips of her Man's love mercy,
When the word WHY becomes an acronym
for What Have You,
When knowledge of loss is your only gain,
When questions and answers no longer serve a frantic heart
rebellion is the necessary blessing of love becoming beast,
When everything sacred seems destin to be violated
and reborn as a beautiful monster
she became, the Zodiac Zombie,
her heart a super nova explosion,
a demoness on the breath of Death's delay
hunting hearts born through her Star House,
asphyxiating the affection of all who incarnate through her system,
feeding on the veins of fresh obsession, of virgin devotion,
Legend has it that she births the great Poets and Rebels
for their passion is unparalleled in pride and sweet sacrafice,
she is the Zodiac Zombie, Queen of the Black Sea, Goddess of love bleeding -
J.A.B.
(If you know the song, Winter Wonderland,
try singing the words of this to that tune!)
Zombies move, but seem vapid,
and their walk is not rapid.
But they love to eat;
If caught, you’re dead meat
living in a crazy Zombie world.
Zombies groan, for they’re lusting
for live flesh, so disgusting.
To let one get near
you’ll understand fear
living in a crazy Zombie world.
If you’re bitten, you will get a fever.
Maybe you’ll appear as if you’re dead.
But if you don’t relish being stinky,
just have your buddies shoot you in the head!
Form a group; find good shelter.
Everything’s helter skelter.
You have to be smart
and have a brave heart
living in a crazy Zombie world.
Written 10/19/13
for Leonora's Halloween Poem Contest
Now for the the Halloween (old poems)Poetry Contest of Linda (PD)
Shall I liken you to a corpse bouquet?
You are certainly ripe and more fetid.
The fond zephyrs of May waft your decay
Up the addled noses of us wretched
Hordes famished for flesh, lurching on the moor,
And me amongst them clawing to your scent
Putrix beyond the spitty chum’s allure
Propels me well beyond routine ferment
To you, though Fate’s sickle blade shall flail
My congealed member’s once firm resolve,
And fire inflames us just shy of the pale,
Our passion will continue to devolve.
Ever, shall she be my prime cadaver,
O to undie again, and to have her!
we haunt our own dreams,
our own heads,
we can't find peace,
even in our own beds,
we lose our minds,
to save our skin,
our childish game,
you'll never win,
cause you can hide,
but you can't run,
your flesh will burn,
under the sun,
the dead will crawl,
up from the grave,
to join the living,
that misbehave.
spelling issues and love.
@};~
A zombie’s sleep revives, necromance alive,
in faith works alongst, though the undead are amongst.
Is she a zombie...
Her eyes are vacant; her heart's
fire extinguished, brittle ash
Hush! She approaches
expressionless, gliding through
a different dimension
Around 9 A.M. it opened
a toast and brie-encrusted laptop
to watch surfboarding ninja squirrels
on YouTube. When it laughed
the birds in its head fell silent
as if some cave-ogre had spontaneously
combusted.
Its recliner groaned like a woman in late term.
It day-dreamed,
now and then it thought of sex,
but in a nonrealistic way.
Around 6 O’clock, Its mate came home
to inquire about, ‘its day’.
“Been working on a poem,”
it said.
We cured death on a Tuesday,
launched the trial on a Thursday,
by Friday, 14% of the test group
was gnawing on the janitorial staff.
Still, the press was kind.
“Remarkable resilience,” they wrote,
as Unit 42A chewed through its restraints,
and tried to bite a cameraman.
We called them SoulSavers™,
engineered for eternal youth,
a proprietary blend of nanites, CRISPR,
and just a dash of hubris.
ReVive™ hit the market with glowing ads:
"Because Forever is a Family Value."
But the legal fine print… oh, the fine print:
May cause mild memory loss, spontaneous moaning, and cannibalistic cravings.
They rose in boardrooms first,
CEOs with perfect teeth
tearing into interns
like gourmet hors d'oeuvres.
By Q3, the infection was global,
but stocks soared--
because someone monetized the mayhem,
packaged brains in biodegradable boxes.
The living now hide in Costco bunkers,
bartering soup for silence,
while ReVive™’s jingle
plays softly from every abandoned screen:
“You can’t spell ‘afterlife’ without 'life'--
Sign here, and live again!”
So yes, we cured death.
We also cured peace.
And now we walk among the ruins,
clawing for comfort,
with half a heart and half a face,
still under warranty.
Author's Note:
This poem is what happens when you read Tom Woody’s contest prompt and accidentally engage the undead half of your brain. It’s a free verse romp through biotech gone wrong, corporate chaos, and a sprinkle of satire. No contest entry--just undead fun.
Nature's gone insane;
Cannibal cadavers creep.
Zombie apocalypse...
In a future that did bleep and blare,
Under a sky full of darkest pollutions,
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Faces glued to screens without care,
Lacking energy, making no contributions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
Minds gone and bodies barely there;
Breaking out into gross contusions,
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Forgetting how to farm, build or repair;
The horrid creatures ask no absolutions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
Having destroyed their water and air,
Surrounded by unspeakable protrusions:
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
Chemical radiation spilling everywhere,
Wheels in wheels spinning revolutions,
In a future that did bleep and blare.
These zombies have no thoughts to spare.
In a future that doth bleep and blare.
ZOMBIE MINGLE
Wolves are howling all night long
Hoar frost coats my pumpkin patch
I shake these chill October nights
Hark the wind its eerie song
Yea the very ground doth quake
With ghoulish souls hath come to life
They push at gravestones overhead
Appetite for blood to slake
Pumpkin shells their fall bought home
See them fill the seedy depth
And carve a mouth of jagged teeth
Freeze my body to the bone
When sun goes down all warmth has fled
I’ll stay within my humble home
Not wander neath moon’s autumn bright
Become the feast of living dead
Thus spoke I hear my doorbell jingle
Dog Spot emits a warning growl
Oh God that ceaseless ring-a-ling
Without doth stand the zombie mingle
Dave Austin
a zombie
reels towards me - -
I bite him
Jack Horne, 28th October, for Leonora’s zombie contest
The elderly,
are very much like zombies.
They are both slow when they walk,
and given half a chance, both will chew your ear off.
-- James Ph. Kotsybar
The zombies are coming; no one knows why –
no time to ponder such things anyhow.
Apocalypse gives us no time to cry.
Survival is all we can think of now.
They hunt for us in slow, relentless mobs
and push past all our barricades by force.
We stifle our screams and swallow our sobs
to realize we are just their food source.
There may exist a ruling, safe elite –
the privileged who caused our current woes
and watch us as we’re torn apart like meat –
but likely they’re no better off. Who knows?
For us, they won’t sweep in to save the day.
To them, we never mattered anyway.