Poetry

Night of the Living Dead

By January 16, 2010 No Comments

The lights darken and slower ones shuffle in, taking their places
Hear them chat of woes, clear throats and thoughts,
Munch on salted vegetable seeds, and slurp carbonated corn water.

Fandangling their fingers, the horizon fades,
The audience is listening.

Screen strikes first, delivering an opus of colors and sounds,
Combatants drenched in electro-projection of Roy-Gee-Biv.
Chewing on sweets, they hold defenses, merely sampling new jungles.
But watch–watch closer as the hour moves and
Light and sound become daggers.

Rumps press the edge of their seats,
Jaws unhinge and necks extend in Neanderthalic moans,
Eyes saccade and hearts slush noxious sludge,
Epidermises spit serotonin, melatonin and dopamine onto
The already sticky floor,
Medullas bite and tick, while beta waves flatten.
Eros and Thantos are reborn as ID triumphs Ego.

Breaths plateau and credits roll.
To the score of victory
Dead walk the aisles
And return to the streets.

Ah, the battles we live
If only previews bellowed,
“Rated R.”