Long Zombified Poems
Long Zombified Poems. Below are the most popular long Zombified by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zombified poems by poem length and keyword.
Beware of whats in front of you
Not everything appears true
Walking around sugar town
Sweet old lady living up the hill
Offers you a drink and slip in a pill
Invites you in when your feeling sick
Then kills you dead for her fix
Careful who you trust
Suspicion is a must
Walking around sugar town
A group of kids play in the park
A closer look hits you hard
Misguided youths throwing knives
With no respect for passerby
Things you see
You cannot believe
Walking around sugar town
Security gaurd on street patrol
Mysteriously walking too slow
Looking for an unexpecting victim
To hit on the head and steal their things
Open your eyes and look hard
What you see will break your heart
Walking around sugar town
Young lovers cuddle on a bench
Second looks witness needles stretched
Not playing an innocent game
Zombified idiots in drug shame
Dont always think its all nice
Naughtiness will take you by surprise
Walking around sugar town
Aye admit, an author's adept
and adroit mastery
to link words together subtly crept
(expressing contents
in a matter of fact
understandable fashion, except
for dissertations and/or kept
jargon for exclusive specialty)
posits, that my wordy verbosity,
revelation, viz "EUREKA" suddenly leapt
administers cerebral, harmful
offal psychological usury
verdict I accept
fomenting gobbledygook concept
might create notion, yours truly inept,
plus incorporating confessional backswept
facets of writerly person,
as sigh nearly wept
(drafting previous poem,
sans book review
like an emotional bit torrent windswept
"And I Don't Want
to Live This Life" anchored in concept,
qua raw maternal did severely intercept
the motherly bond Deborah Spungen
felt toward zombified miskept
incorrigibly, horribly, grievously...
tormented first born
or momentenous insept
begetting impregnation and early labor
Nancy Laura Spungen since birth,
perhaps seeped when aye slept
into nooks and crannies of subconscious,
though one could breeze thru said book
such evocative anguish left
me numbly bereft, yet acutely aware
to vicariously experience devastating agony!
A rather long tale, it is written:
The story of heroic kittens
The boy was called 'Bat'
The girl’s name was 'Gat'
By the end, you’re going to be smitten
In a medical flight to Ukraine
A supply box fell out of a plane
They were vaccines on ice
With some scary advice:
Keep this cold or you might go insane!
Well, on impact, it split open wide
And it spilled all the vaccines inside
They lay on the ground
No longer ice-bound
Till by rodents the contents were spied
Soon, the rats, in large numbers, had tried
The vaccines and a couple then died
But with toxic venom
That glowed deep within ‘em
The remainder were now zombified!
The kids were all outside to play
For it was a beautiful day.
But when they saw the prize
(All those rescue supplies),
Then suddenly, things turned to gray
The zombie rats started to swarm
They certainly looked to do harm
The kids were all trapped
No time to adapt
The forming of a perfect storm
And that’s when our heros stepped in
The odds were exceedingly thin
They clawed and they bit
With real gusto and grit
It was Bat and Gat for the win!
Now our kittens have grown rather fat
And they much prefer mouse over rat
The zombies are goners
The cats earned high honors
Hip-hooray, Bat and Gat, hero cats!
Senor's wealth management...
battered pinata like
Yours truly courtesy servitude
tethered existence suffers neck
brunt of yoke
fiscal recklessness got me woke
within cosmic schema,
a mere infinitesimal speck.
Insolvent crisis principally bespoke
interestingly enough
caught me off balance
sudden pennilessness
(dollar short/ day late dada)
analogous to vice grip
stranglehold doth choke
coffers emptied
willy-nilly Okey doke
colorblindness
fundamentally governed me
into zombified state
thus another plaintive plea
I repeatedly, lamely, and feebly evoke
meaning remuneration welcomed
courtesy altruistic generosity, magnanimity
and philanthropy humble
anonymous Lake Woebegone folk
ideally Norwegian bachelor farmers
to alleviate fiasco from fiendish
fraudsters frazzled father.
In plain (Schwenksville speak)
broken English,
I fell prey to hustlers
audacious, ferocious, malicious,
voracious, zealous tricksters,
who stealthily found entry
into my Macbook Pro
and locked computer screen
with threatening implication
security of mine private domain
awash with byte size bits
of valuable information
at risk of being tampered
with or obliterated.
Analogous to eminent domain of yore
mine digital terrain
manifest destiny meant war
virtual flesh and blood
regarding these lovely bones
yours truly gussied up
as chargé d'affaires
sent on risky (business) dutiful tour
to inflict comeuppance on him
who rendered me poor
as a Unitarian Church mouse,
plus I recruited
offspring of one of countless
related German Shepherd dogs
featured in fictional stories
on film, radio and television,
who starred as Rin Tin Tin reincarnate
belonging to elite K9 Korp
receiving unexpected support
courtesy end of gum
(cryptic message for ye
to chew on) sympathizers
voluntarily boosted success
at recouping major financial setback
my morale viz extempore.
Most of my Lix spittle
+ four additional anniversaries
since exiting birth canal
as full term newborn
re: minimally viable existence
post doc severance umbilical cord,
nevertheless yours truly
found himself figuratively
linkedin and tethered to lifeline
particularly in formative years
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat
without an ankh (clawing
away to stay afloat)
aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker,
(who calls Lake Wobegon
his birth place)
from without, where two
brown myopic ocular
orbs shutterfly, twitter and winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
nsync with avocations
such as: jigsaw puzzles,
photography, playing piano
weight lifting with free weights
and other endeavors metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
courtesy anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
captioned tinker tailor soldier spy
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning (when libido
ran rampantly amuck)
satyromania, the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus three
month date on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia
after Dayton death.
An amateur archer, Antoine,
Bodaciously bragged beastly brawn.
Crushed counterparts,
Dispatched deadly darts,
Electrified everyone!
Fly fisherman Freddy flung far.
Gadzooks! Great gobbling gar!
He hooked half-heartedly,
Inverted inartfully,
Jettisoned jumbled jig jar!
Kenneth keeps kitchen knives keen
Love’s labors leave lanky, lean
Mills metal mightily
Nibbles Nightly
Overweight outcomes: obscene!
Peter’s pickled picked peppers: premiere!
Quoted quantities: questionable, q*eer
Ration’s Redeeming:
Scofield scale screaming,
Terrifies tongues, torrents tears
Ultimatums unduly unclear
Varnished vengeance veneer
Wipeouts, whiteouts
Xeroxing x-outs
Yielding yoked yeoman years
Zanax-zombified zebras zig-zag zanily, zap zooming zeitgeists
----------
Alliterative, Abecedarian Limericks!
Ran out for 'Z', so I made an alliterative monoku there. This was hard! The last stanza stretches the imagination a bit :-)
My country is the beautiful sun
My country is not the hard winter
My country is an often green Eden
Always languid and tropical at dawn.
It’s a country where the crowing of roosters
Revives everybody every morning
It’s a country furnished with filthy slush and rocks
Where nature is a vast and miserable garden.
It's a country full of horrid stories
Where slaves and decent people are revolted
Against greedy settlers and bloody buccaneers
It’s where only macabre memories exist.
In this awful and morose atmosphere
Where I banter all that is negative
I will build positive monuments
I will dream and recite fables.
My country is the moonlight
Which gives hope and strength to fight
Against masked and zombified
Bogeymen. Oh! God, I hold no grudges.
My country is the ever positive imagination
Presently, I don't want to denounce anyone
However, I will silence the chiming bells
Oh! It's sad to see my people on the exodus
Near the evacuative shores.
P.S. Gilles Vigneault, this poem is
For you and our people.
Copyright © January 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
"Who Am I"
Voices in my head the unheard of
They mimic, they pester, they lie
All to just torture my mind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
I question I can no longer answer
They've erased Me, Myself and I
Changed into the hopeless, heartless, unkind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Someone now just a faint memory
Lost somewhere forever but did I die
Did I turn tail with yellow spine
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
From the torture cocoon to robotic host
Manipulated, Influenced, Punished but why?
They see through my eyes while I'm blind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Definitely not this important of a man
Given mental beatings if I try...to defy...
The skin of their evil, zombified defined
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Twenty-four hours every single day
Twenty-four hours every single night
Twenty-four hours of a continual tortured mind
Who Am I...
Who Am I...
Because I do not even exist anymore
bmdavey@ 09/09/24
Hair is meant to grow long and unruly
Who am I to interfere with nature’s treaty with time?
A king’s crown a tangled mess,
so fashion forward of I to sport
the look of a fishing net
Yet I still prefer function, you see
I have salmon-like thoughts, those
zombified fiends stubbornly swim upstream
Keep coasting, keep coasting
Solutions are rarely abundant
However I have heard that
water makes an excellent solvent.
I may stay stationary, waiting
as my wounded body aches,
I worry not, for my head will go
wherever my healer takes
Perhaps then, he will raise my head tall
And my follicles will no longer fall.
This is the tale of two little black kittens.
One has a white chest; the other, white mittens.
A boy cat, a girl cat, they have simple names:
These two, Bat and Gat, are of Hero Cat fame.
Though not very old, they have storied pasts;
The tales of these critters have spread far and fast.
So if you’ve a moment, come set for a spell,
And we’ll do our best to provide a quick tell.
It all started out with a flight to Ukraine,
And zombified rats that were raging, insane.
There’s the one where they saved a kid goat named Split
Using mountain cat screams through an old drainage ditch.
Or maybe an unwelcome picnic day guest:
A snake who sneezed pepper, got rattled, and left.
The story of Blueberry’s rescue’s contagious:
With Juno’s help, scared dogs away from her cages.
“Oh, come on!” you are thinking, “Just simply tall tales!”
Perhaps you’d believe, if you knew the details.
For these little cats have black magical powers;
They’ve spellbound my grandkids for several hours.
There’s the time when, while rafting, they fell in the lake,
And the great lurking turtle showed up for their sake.
Or maybe the time when they took the squirrels’ nuts?
Admitting their error: that really took guts.
My favorite is likely the old chicken thief,
And building the Tar Chick to give that coon grief.
At last, there's Bat’s failure to launch to the moon;
He’s healed from his wounds, won’t attempt that one soon.
These days Bat and Gat just hang out with the kids;
Did they really do this? My grands said they did!
————-
FIRST PLACE WINNER
For the Black Cat Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Written 03/23/2022