"Think of the cold, hard glance;
This is the second chance;
Destitute and impoverished, yet;
You do deserve to dance;
Matters not how you get;
Passage is through regrets;
Think of walking on pomerance,
Lance enhance freelance,
Prance sufferance in advance song and dance;
Hard glance thinking of the cold ground
Frost bitten toes barefooted winter parking lot slam dance"
2/5/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
I'm a Zombie girl...In a Barbie world.
My body bag is plastic...It's fantastic!
I creep at night...In the moonlight.
My scars do gleam...I'll make you scream!
My skin is pale...My bones are frail.
I take a chance...When I slam dance!
"Come on Zombies...Let's go party!"
Oh! Oh! Oh! Wooooh! Ooooowooooh!
( Background vocals: "Brrrains!" "Aaarrrgh!" )
"Come on Zombies...Let's go party!"
Oh! Oh! Oh! Wooooh! Ooooowooooh!
( Background vocals: "Brrrains!" "Aaarrrgh!" )
I'm a Zombie girl...In a Barbie world.
My body bag is plastic...It's fantastic!
When you say "Bite me!"...That excites me!
My veins are blue...My brain is goo.
My senses are numb...My lips are plum.
I sleep underground...In a dirt mound.
"Come on Zombies...Let's go party!"
Oh! Oh! Oh! Wooooh! Ooooowooooh!
( Background vocals: "Brrrains!" "Aaarrrgh!" )
"Come on Zombies...Let's go party!"
Oh! Oh! Oh! Wooooh! Ooooowooooh!
( Background vocals: "Brrrains!" "Aaarrrgh!" )
Now hushed bleak sterile corridors
recall the cries, laughter and tears
of those once termed insane;
all is still now.
Rooms behind forbidding windows,
shutters slam-dance lazily in the breeze;
all is empty.
No actual cells, no straw on cruel stone floors
or padded walls,
reality is cracked linoleum and Formica;
all is quiet.
The local Bedlam towers black,
decaying dead slumber,
etched against a red-tinged horizon.
No movement now within the confines
of her walls,
other than upon the evenings of the
Autumnal moon, when perhaps
resonances of the past send strange
drifting spectres to walk the balconies
and pace the grey great hall,
acting out the bygone dramas of this home,
this refuge, Asylum.
Those who would dare to
venture here
on such tragi-comic nights would see;
but no one comes here and no one sees
and all too few care or understand,
for all that is past are now dead memories,
and all that is to follow
is the truest madness...
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