Tag Archives: packing heat

A zombie poem

My zombie friend, Megan.

My zombie friend, Megan.

Little Zombie  

Little zombie, you think you’re stylin?

Blood drippin’ down your shirt.

With your herky-jerky, lumbering lurch.

Ain’t ‘gonna get us, we’re on alert.

Little zombie, right next door,

Tearing through their chain link fencing.

Banging down the neighbor’s entry.

Your inhuman strength is oh-so frightening!

Little zombie, you’re so scary.

Are those brains, gray and mushy,

Spilled upon your dirty feet?

Don’t look now, your toes are squishing.

What yellow fangs you’re a baring.

Gaping mouth, you’re getting anxious.

Baseball bats don’t knock you down.

We’ll have to raid the gun collection.

See my boy, he’s packing heat.

He’ll use his gun to make you dead.

To his shoulder, butt stock goes,

Oh little zombie, where’s your head?

Cool Dad

7 Comments

Filed under Horror, Prose & Poetry

How to rid your neighborhood of those pesky zombies

Zombie Abatement Officer

Pretty Zombie

by

Karen S. Elliott

Pretty zombie, you think you’re stylish?

Blood a drippin’ down your shirt.

With your herky-jerky, lumbering lurch.

Ain’t ‘gon get us, we’re on alert.

***

Pretty zombie, just next door,

Banging down the neighbor’s entry.

Tearing through their chain-link fencing.

Your inhuman strength is really frightening!

***

Pretty zombie, you’re so scary.

Are those brains, gray and mushy,

Spilled upon your dirty feet?

Don’t look now, your toes are squishing.

***

What awful teeth, you’re a baring.

Gaping mouth, you’re getting anxious.

Baseball bats don’t knock you down.

We’ll have to raid the gun collection.

***

See my boy, he’s packing heat.

He’ll use his gun to make you dead.

To his shoulder, butt stock goes.

Oh pretty zombie, where’s your head?

Friend Megan-Zombie, in Albuquerque

8 Comments

Filed under Prose & Poetry, Special Events