scribbler
Jul 21, 2017

TRUE ZOMBIE

Another zombie standing there
slouched,unfocused eyes and rotten teeth
the very picture of despair.
I bet she smells beyond belief.

Blank eyes accent the hopeless face,
rags display a total lack of pride,
hair looks tangled and out of place.
She totters with each weak kneed stride.

Her path weaves from store fronts to gutter,
goes to the corner, pause, then turn around.
I watch cracked lips which seem to mutter.
Her glance turns up then from the ground.

She doesn't see me standing here
across the street immersed in shade
hoping she does not come near
here in the fortress I have made.

Her head snaps up, she looks around
life ( or Something) lights her eyes
then even I can hear the sound
of her fast approaching prize.

A car pulls up, a hand sticks out
she gets bills from bodice that sags
hand disappears then comes back out
purveying two small zip lock bags.

She snatches them then turns away,
around a corner ,poof!, she's gone
to where ever zombies stay
some place she'll feel safe to turn on.

She's gone so I can breathe again
after close encounter with walking death
an encounter the zombis cannot win.
Her doom is writ with crystal meth.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: I know most of my stuff is filled with the beauty of nature but thought it might be good to show I AM aware of the darkness in the world also

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: South Carolina, United States, USA

Favorite Poets: Frost

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Comments

Geezer

This certainly shows the dark side of life. Only one crit. "Her glance turns up from the ground".
I always thought that the ground was down, but maybe I'm wrong? ~ Gee.
.

S

Thank god for eagle eyes lol. I got that corrected. I'll blame late nite posting lol. Or perhaps my zombieness lmao. Appreciate you dropping by........stan

Pugilist

I dreaded reading another goth like celebration of zombies. I enjoy goth. I'm not opposed to zombies, the intersection of the two, however, is not something I enjoy.

But this did not fall into that category.

I like the piece and, aside from a few places, I felt it flowed well. Rhyme is rarely easy and it is all to prevalent to focus so intently on the rhyme that you hampers the flow.

In the second stanza, the third line is jarring and feels disconnected to the feel of the rest of the work.

My suggestion would be to extend the disarray theme. Something like:

Blank eyes accent the hopeless face,
rags display a total lack of pride,
Limp hair without a thread of grace,
She totters with each weak kneed stride.

The goal, for me is to makes lines flow like a conversation and, to this end, I speak my work aloud to aid in identifying what flows and what stumbles.

I look forward to the finished product.

Eumolpus

ordinarily, je ne zombie pas, I'm older than 15.
But the last line catches all, and brings it together. interesting touch!

S

I occasionally try to write something with a twist at the end. Appreciate your dropping by.......stan