Short The Living Dead Poems
Short The Living Dead Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about The Living Dead by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about The Living Dead by length and keyword.
Burn our bones, buried
Deep in the cemetery.
Pray for the restless
Ghosts among the living dead:
Awaken those far ahead.
you make me spit out all my breath
like you control over the living dead
so I'm tied to my own bed
all smothered inside and haunted in the head
Form:
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
As I smoke the living dead, I inhale my mind
and produce dreams as if the devils thoughts
were convulsing in bliss. They become reality and dance
around me as pagan rituals.
From the foots
of the tall buildings
many living dead
are coming up wobbling.
Stealthily,the living dead
are peeping inside
from the windows of the houses
of poor families.
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.
A ghostly wind sings
Scattered leaves on their death bed
Screams fill the silence
The full moon watching
Branches reaching for your hand
The shadows follow
Graves no longer full
The night of the living dead
Happy Halloween
O Love you are deathless path
But I'm the living dead mirth
O Love you are great soul of meteor, great path of galaxies
But I'm the fallacious wisp, dust of the dusk
O Love come into me,
burn me firing the inside
- January 08, 2020 CTG, BD
My time of death I don't quite know,
I'm still breathing but I was gone long ago.
Locked in the casket of a broken mind,
If I go any deep I'm afraid of what I'll find.
The skeleton of what I was was is gone a,
corpse of the lost me at every new dawn.
Form:
Crisscrossed stitches,
Lusting the needles thread,
Caressing the distance,
Between the living dead.
Hand in hand,
Lips to lips,
Time sings candles,
Drip drop drip.
These sticks move in silence,
In there circle of malice,
Counting the numbers,
Verbs and nouns so callous.
Form:
Put on a good show
For the people in the front row
Can’t express your true feelings
With a sack on your head
The living dead
On the ground kneeling
Your hands tied
Behind your back
On a one-way ride
On a one-way track
Conceal the lamentation
It’s all in the presentation
The living dead, think they’re alive
Trapped in a fear prison
Thoughts centred on wealth and sex drive
Yet feel their soul’s risen
Human form a facade
In darkness they do plod
Distanced from love and God
By desires led
The living dead
17-August-2022
Quietus
Many die
to walk unknown
amongst
the living dead
Their hearts reclaimed
yet beating still
whose verses
go unread
They wander freely
in the night
their chains
relock the grave
Awaiting words
you’ve yet to write
to free
— their death enslaved
(Calvary Cemetery: February, 2025)
They say that they are Christians
But commit all kinds of immoral act
They say that they are Christians
But they lie, steal, deceive, and sin
They say that they are Christians
But support lies and not the truth
They are alive in the flesh
But they are dead in the Spirit
The Living Dead
It’s been used in so many movies,
and series, and books to be read -
some kind of sickness breaks out in the world
turning all into the living dead.
I once thought the concept was silly,
but now days I just shake my head,
cuz this bug has all the same
turned the whole world...
right into the living dead.
As the grace of my lord invade my segments
my soul stears from satins decent
with his hateful lament
and his constent resent
the feel of my soul is in malcontent
i never look back at the shadows in black
but insteed look ahead at the living dead
for I will never become blined to the wise mans sin
for he can lead me to sin again
Form:
Elegy DEADED SOULS TALK N-WALK
Interment unholy uncovered grounds;
Awesomely truest self instantly found;
The dead bones rise up also them so walk
Ever-presents of open-armed God Crowned;
Humanity and angels sing souls sound;
Spirit of the living dead souls be talk;
Hallelujahs
1/10/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Elegy
hail!
he, who sail’d
thro’ those long nights
in the hobs of
niger’s hidden chambers
amongst those weird shades
of the niger;
hail!
he, who came in
with those trophies
from the living-dead
those trophies
of my ancestors
the ancestors of my red earth
the red earth of my forest
the forest of my drum
the drum of my clan
the clan of my birth –
hail!
to the eyes of the forest
Form:
Salute to the ode of old
Be wary of the ghosts it leaves
The remnant and seeds of its wake
Salute to the whore of kings
Its corpse and stench reeks still
The wise and deep court still
Salute to the living dead
Frail but rears its head
With words than never bend
Salute, I say, Ode
For yonder when I die
In spite of the odium I hold
You’d still be lying there
What if I write you an 8 page sonnet
And when I see you
We talk about the weather
The burdens of bureaucracy, and the colors of fall
You love the orange and I love that the piles of leaves are pillows of the living dead that I plow into
And puddles are piles of recycled tears that I cry into
But I’ll say I love orange
Because neither boys nor teachers like running sentences
A tidal wave of civil liberty—a Great Revolt
A deep kinship of prominent peak
Afresh breathe of repose and bold
Inhaling optimistic
Exert men wrapped with invisible chain
Time awakened mankind by chance
Oh trapped on this alien land
A mind playing game
Fire the dough for the living dead
The heart desire still unknown
A cycled of rotten bread
Inverting the throne
From the restaurant doors
Sweet aromas creep;
Food some can afford,
Others only in sleep.
Both starving, we rush-
'This place looks a delight!'-
But hungry fingers clutch
My flesh, plump and white.
'Namaste!' he says
And wiggles his head,
As I shiver in the face
Of the living dead.
Sharp breath- I turn
Towards the light,
And leave him to creep
Back into night
And let tastes so sweet
Overpower my sight.
Form:
I wanted to say ...
but I didn’t
Regrets unsaid
has my bowed head
leaving upon my barren ground
a trail of tears
I wanted to tell you ...
but I foolishly didn’t
Contrition unsaid
is an albatross millstone
wrapped around my feeble legs
Pulling me to the depths
of a watery, unforgiven grave
I wanted to say ...
but I didn’t
Regrets unsaid
are the mourning dove tears
of the living dead
These models of worldly success
In the kingdom
Of the wandering tribe
A whole global country
Now seemingly does subscribe
Formed into their world of greed
Forced into a half living dead being
By witches of the Wall Street creed
With nauseating materialism agreeing
Creatures of the living dead
Of Emptiness, with no real net worth
Of Ostentation and mental dread
A curse upon all the Earth
And all things living on it.
.
Good men go first,
Bad men stay ahead.
Never had I dream to become the dirt,
But then, all know about the End.
It is a good day for good men to depart,
The rest will stay for another deed.
But little knows how the Goods' trust,
The last they saw was the Rests' deed.
"Hope to see you on the other side,
The Rests will be embraced by the End."
These are the last words from the Goods,
A curse for the living dead.
edited-1/6/2020