A (very bad) poem for day 15 of NovPad 2010. A “just when you thought it was safe” poem:
The world you know is crashing down.
Every gun shop in this town–
And every Wal-Mart,
Every cop,
Every Cabela’s,
Before you had time to start,
Was looted clean,
Or killed,
Leaving you alone,
Unarmed,
And unskilled,
To fend for yourself in the apocalypse.
Hordes of freshly-dead are shambling.
Urban streets, and woodland brambling
Are thick with stink;
With blood
And gore,
And you stop and think.
An inch and a half
Of solid steel
Stands between you
And the shocking surreal!
Surely, no zombie could manage to peel
Away a door of this calibre!
And so, you turn, with a sigh of relief;
Reprived of this world’s ineluctable grief!
You wipe your brow
With the palm of your hand;
Both are drenched with sweat.
And you think you know now
Just how to proceed.
A determined scowl
Set in your face,
You mount the stairs,
Unaware as you prowl,
That there stands Mom, and she’s hungry.
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