Ode to The Hunger (Rant of the Living Dead)
by Terry L Vinson — Read all 2 poems by Terry L Vinson
Alas, if only the 'living dead' could 'wax poetic'...
Friday, August 11, 2006
From 'Prey' to 'Predator', all in the matter of a single bite...or perhaps...several dozen bites:
My dear wife is long dead,
Our precious offspring as well,
The ravenous dead have feasted upon their very souls.
The majority of the population has suffered the same fate, I fear,
They all, too… paid the highest of tolls...
I run and I hide to no avail,
They shadow my every move.
Laying in wait, they follow my scent,
There is no rest, no sleep that would serve to sooth...
A desolate, deserted gas station becomes my home,
Temporary haven it may be.
Though supplies are sparse and stark fear fills my pores,
For a brief time I no longer roam...
Despite the station's isolated location, my paranoia gnaws,
I barricade all windows and doors,
A prisoner of blind, stark fear I confess,
All to avoid the clutching hands and snapping, ravenous jaws...
My respite ends rudely as I awaken with a start through waves of ringing thunder,
Every fiber in my being screeching from sharp waves of indescribable pain.
The many faces mercifully blur and contort as teeth bore in and greedy fingers tear me asunder...
As probing hands submerge through flesh into the warm, pulsating entrails within, I release a final, shrieking scream,
They tug and pull and rip and tear until something vital between gives way.
I mercifully drift into the darkness beyond, praying this be but
the most horrific of dreams...
Senses…are dulled….all...sensation is…lost…
My greatest fear is…realized…
Peering into a…cracked mirror…nearby…
Displays…the personal cost...
A disembodied head….am I….the rest…greedily…consumed…
No arms…no legs…torso-less….
No…life...to...readily…resume…
The hunger...builds…though powerless am I…to…
search out….that which serves to...quench…
This damnable hunger…relentless…it refuses to abate…
As something wonders nearby….which overwhelms my own rotted stench….
Lolling about…no way to feed….I wear a shroud of darkness….
Before footsteps alert me… to greet….
The flesh is…raw…the pulse of life…
Ah yes, come to me…my dear… fresh… meat….
END???
NOTE: Terry's 'tales of the Zombie' novel, 'THE DeAd eFfEct' is scheduled for publication from Double Dragon Press in mid-2007. Containing a dozen selected 'living dead' stories, it is Terry's homage to George A. Romero and the 'dead realm' he so lovingly created. Check this site for updates!
I just "dropped by" and the experience has overwhelmed me in many ways. This is a great, dark poem. You told it in first person so your readers identify with your "victim" as though they were inside the poem and ARE the victim. Great work!
George
Charles D. O'Connor III
ps. check out my new story Gasta: The Land Beyond The Universe
Good grief, if this doesn't give me nightmares...chilling; powerfully effective, descriptive piece, very well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Cheryl Kaye Tardif, author of Whale Song (2007 Kunati Books)