Horror Poetry: Life After the Zombie Apocalypse

Posted: February 12, 2016 in Dark Poetry, Horror Poetry, Scary Stories
Tags: , , , ,

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Awhile back, I spoke of a disturbing dream I had about an infected zombie race…No, I didn’t watch any scary movies, watch The Walking Dead or read any scary books….The dream felt quite real and I could experience sight, smell and sounds…..yet again, I have a pretty good imagination……I was told I should write about this dream…as it stayed with me for a couple days…..This poem is a little disturbing from my other ones….and it gets off the track of my collection of Fallen and Risen Angels that I am working on…..proceed…with caution….

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Life After the Zombie Apocalypse
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In the aftermath of a horrific battle,
The gory dreadful clean-up began…

The Earth’s people were worn from the endless fighting…
Corpse-like bodies, torn with shame and broken lost souls roamed the lands,
Hungry for one last taste of life.

The zombies claimed our homes, turning them into their own personal caskets,
while we hid in the alleys like wild animals, often hungry and cold, but our guards up-
Well aware… As we feared the sickness that would claim our souls.

Their voices moaned out,
Eyes listless,cold and lifeless…

The grace for life was dead…
But those corpse-like bodies stiffly carried their monstrous virus.
We all thought this was the end…

And then the victors rose from the deadly flames,
An unknown identity, glowing hand of life,
reached down to the broken lands,
pulling in from the highest heavens and wiped the bloody slate clean,
leaving only a few mortified zombies listless –
in a blank stare of complacency…

Was it a miracle…?
Or perhaps the hand of God?
Some of us had lost hope.

Since the visitor laid down his hand,
There are those that stand here with a look of wonder and horror.
The last of the stubborn zombies are frozen….
Remaining stagnant and earthbound as the horrific clean-up continues.

The guts and gore still stain our hands
and the ashes of their bodies still blow in the wind-
for they are not worthy of rising up for sacrifice.
They only need to be buried into the cold grounds of impurities.

One day, the light of the world will shine,
and the stares of complatency will disappear.
The monstrous virus will dissipate
and the smokey breeze will no longer freeze our tired bones.

Since the glowing hand of life wiped away the zombie race,
Those of us will always know,
what is is like to stare death in the face.

– Ariana R. Cherry 2016

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