The Apocalypse

Across the hills,
A full-on sprint of teeth and eyes,
And bloody smiles,
Less aware than absent mothers,
Fathers, brothers- and
More feral than a cat
With claws front and centre,
And we’d all expected that
The walls would protect us,
Fuck, or old-school blood lust,
That says I’m not dinner, bitch,
And lets you go gang-bust,
Or their ass, on the bastard
That killed your kids- only lasted
About a minute in this shit,
And I’m never gettin’ over it.

When we planned, it was calmer,
We’d steal from a farmer.
I’m on practicalities-
Meds, water, cars, formalities.
Fatalities came faster, though,
And there’s no time for spaghetti.
Cos petrol is important,
But not like a machete,
Or a five iron swung above my head,
Wild at first- then sure and hard,
One, two, it’s dead.
It’s deader than dead,
Just plain dead isn’t dead enough.
And I’m not at ease with the stillness.
A pulse- you wanna feel this.
Because what if it’s just playing?
If it’s dormant, it’s just waiting,
And your hope, it’s abating,
Cos you’re still debating
What could be more horrible
When the dead’s inexorable.

The terror is that shuffling
Towards you is not end.
My mouth, I am muffling,
Cos around that bend,
Could be it for me, and then what am I?
Forever lost in agony, and I’m not gonna lie-
I fear the bite and tear of teeth,
But more so the taste of skin-
I might like that you’re afraid of me,
Or annoyed that you’re so thin.
What if I know it’s happening,
Just riding my own skin.
An inspection of my brain won’t let me win.

A lethal injection, dissection, send it my way,
If you can bring your heart to bear,
I won’t want live beyond that day.

And what if we survive this,
Alive in this, and thriving on the life of this?
Is there anything we’ll miss,
In the grip of death’s last kiss?
What life is in humanity,
When sunk in such profanity?
When neighbours shriek at fences
And you count your last defences,
And the guy at the door,
Keeps you awake more and more,
And you’re not really so sure,
That you wanna stay here anymore.
And you sometimes think it best,
That you lay down to rest
And demand a pound of flesh
To feed the maggots in your breast.

It’s a mess,
And I mostly miss your lips.
The end is nigh, sister,
Well, shit, the apocalypse.


Danielle K Day

Today I wrote a rap song! Well, a spoken word poem. Try it a couple of times to get the pace right, and remember- it’s fast!

My favourite movies are zombie films, and I’d spent a couple of hours today with my best friend, who is also my zombie outbreak buddy. I was feeling a bit silly, so this little (heh, or not so little) poem blossomed. It’s a bit different to my usual themes, but hopefully still enjoyable to you all? ;p. – Danni



One thought on “The Apocalypse

  1. Wowsers – that was truly epic, I got the flow and everything. It was tense and pulse pounding and as a zombie fan and fellow poet, you nailed both the emotional and scary aspects – instant classic!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s