Shivers down the spine -
There must be a draft.
Mowing, line by line,
Death perfects her craft,
With a steady hand,
And no animus.
Upright bodies bend,
All - anonymous.
Scarier than death
Or some pointed gun
Is the vacuum left
When the neighbor's gone,
And the piercing gaze
Of the neighbor's dog
That remains in place
In the morning fog.
O, those trusting eyes,
What is it they crave?
What did they surmise?
Can they see his grave?
Soon you'll get the call.
Just like that - you're in,
Back against the wall,
Much to your chagrin.
Fight if you have fists,
Fly if you have wings,
But you must resist
Senseless state of things!
Generals are hoarse,
Troops - in disarray,
Trampling a corpse
Camouflaged in clay.
Features disappear.
Man becomes a lump,
Other lumps adhere
To a bigger clump.
As this cancer spreads,
Multiplies, protrudes,
Its momentum sheds
Living attributes.
Every human trait,
Seeped in this abuse,
Will begin to fade
Out of common use.
Zombies by design
Burn the kerosene
On assembly lines
Of the war machine.
Die if it's your will,
Only cleanse this earth
Of the hate instilled
In you since your birth
By the fiend who sits
In his bunker, who
Wouldn't give two shits
For the lot of you.
Let him taste your blood
And I hope he chokes,
And, - if there's a God -
Then, I pray he croaks.