Rhonny Reaper's Poetry From The Grave

by Rhonda Kachur



  Poetry From The Grave

  A Free Anthology Compiled by

  Rhonda E. Kachur

  Copyright © 2012 Rhonda E. Kachur

  Cover Design by Cinsearae S.

  Opening Comic art by Ginger Rose

  Opening Comic Art Poem and Lettering by Rhonda E. Kachur

  ****

  This story is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual locales, events, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  *****

  Table of Contents

  Rebirthday - Holly Tucker

  My Zombie Valentine - P.J. Kelley

  Let A Zombie Be Your Guide - Christine Kansy

  Haiku #1 by Scott Emerson

  Haiku - Rebecca Carter

  HABIT - Scott Emerson

  BALEFUL - Seven L. Cooper

  Haiku “Bones” – Rhonda E. Kachur

  An isolated incident - Christine Masters

  No Heart Beat - Kaylene Humphreys

  City of Decay - Beverley Price

  End - Rhonda E. Kachur

  Dead Time – Afobos

  The Worst Dream - Kaylene Humphreys

  Dead Life - Ragina Sebastian

  Late Night Walk - Kaylene Humphreys

  My Friends and Me - J. Rodimus Fowler

  Haiku “Flesh” – Rhonda E. Kachur

  My Zombie Girlfriend - Michael McCarty

  Haiku #2 by Scott Emerson

  Swallow - Queenie Thayer

  Zombie Bordello - Rhonda E. Kachur

  The Taste From Within - Eric Polk

  Threnody - Charlie Morgan

  Haiku “Fast Food” – Rhonda E. Kachur

  Night of the Living Dead: A Seussification - Nathan Hamilton

  Not Dead - Rhonda E. Kachur

  And a special flash fiction tale

  The REAL Life of a Zombie - Cinsearae S.

  Rebirthday - Holly Tucker

 

  That toxin spill,

  Gave me a thrill

  Now I'm on the make,

  But it's not a heart I want to take

  I'm focused on another matter,

  Which I want served on a silver platter

  With a glass of chardonnay,

  To celebrate my rebirthday.

  My Zombie Valentine - P.J. Kelley

  "Oh Sweet Zombie O'Mine

  Your fearsome visage makes me pine,

  For days when Love's sweet embrace

  Was something from which I would not race.

  Your meat-sweet breath on my lapel

  With teeth to damn me straight to Hell

  What lofty overtures we played

  Before your snarls to me were weighed

  Against the cost of lover's sorrows

  That cost my Zombie love her morals.

  From what once you did shirk my love

  Who were as gentle as the dove

  You now do seek a human meat

  As a living, writhing treat.

  My love has aged me a'fore my time

  My lovely, raging Valentine.

  And so to you I look askance

  From your surly countenance

  I cannot venture from my course.

  By this shotgun, we are divorced.

  Let A Zombie Be Your Guide - Christine Kansy

 

  Yesterday I placed my soul in a rock by the seaside

  I wanna be a zombie

  'cause zombies never cry

 

  Voodoo is life you creatively visualize

  I wanna be a zombie

  they don't see from their eyes

 

  I'm on a roller coaster going low and high inside

  I wanna be a zombie

  'cause zombies won't ride

 

  Why dig your heels in with wrong on your side

  zombies can't listen

  zombies can't lie

 

  Should you give up when you can't see the sky

  zombies don't care

  zombies don't know why

 

  Yesterday I left my soul in a rock by the seaside

  'cause zombies don't remember

  zombies never die

  Haiku #1 by Scott Emerson

  This trick-or-treat bag

  Perfect for catching pieces

  of my crumbling face

  Haiku - Rebecca Carter

  Headshots are required

  or the dead won’t stay down

  Humanity gone.

  HABIT - Scott Emerson

 

  Stiffened grey fingers guide the needle inside

  a cold vein, flesh sloughing from his

  thumb as he plunges junk

  into a bloodstream gone stagnant and

  black

 

  An illusion of heaven

  in this decaying urban hell

  BALEFUL - Seven L. Cooper

  Bitten are we.

  Roaming dead alive,

  Graves disturbed.

  Chemical, viral, bacterial or divine,

  Tears shed,

  Ones loved.

  ~Baleful~

  Loved ones,

  Shed tears.

  Divine or bacterial, viral, chemical,

  Disturbed graves.

  Alive dead roaming,

  We are bitten.

  Haiku “Bones” – Rhonda E. Kachur

  It would be quicker

  To break their bones with my teeth

  If they weren’t rotted

  An isolated incident - Christine Masters

  The air was cool

  the sky was clear

  I sat on the porch

  and popped open a beer

  My dog stood fast

  his teeth he did bare

  I reached for "sweet sally"

  I always kept near

  I pulled back the pump

  Drew in a deep breath

  over the last several days

  I had become an expert on death

  The first one I Killed

  took more then one try

  I'd hit it over and over

  but it just wouldn't die

  I learned real fast aim for the head

  then use an ax

  to make sure that it's dead

  As the figure got closer

  tears filled my eyes

  It was one of the Miller kids

  from just down the road

  dressed in her Sunday best

  she wasn't but 10 years old

  There was no choice

  there was no guess

  the shot rang out

  ruined that pretty little dress

  I threw her on the fire

  and as the smell hit the air

  I headed back to the porch

  and finished my beer

  It had been 15 days

  since the virus broke out

  An " isolated incident" the president said

  without a doubt!

  Mr. Morgan called the very next morning

  He said" stock all your supplies girl

  and heed my warning.

  Do it now , do it with haste

  gather ammo and food

  you got no time to waste."

  I scanned the horizon there were other survivors out there

  I had seen their smoke signals and the

  red S.O.S. flares

  But Mr. Morgan had warned me

  He had said without doubt

  "Stay at the cabin and Do not wander about"

  I looked down at my dog


  patted his head

  "Come on old boy it's time for bed"

  No Heart Beat - Kaylene Humphreys

  When you think of love,

  you think of fun.

  A living breathing,

  good time.

  When I think of love,

  I feel the lack of.

  A cold gruesome,

  horror fest.

  A girl’s first boyfriend,

  talk dark and handsome.

  Evenings to dine,

  and movies for show.

  But me, oh my,

  my dream guy.

  Rotting flesh,

  and gnashing teeth.

  City of Decay - Beverley Price

  It was the day the sun turned black,

  That the zombies took over the earth.

  The writing was on the wall, the end was nigh,

  But you were still my source of happiness and mirth.

  Outside was an endless procession of the undead,

  Wickedly adorned with the symbols of magic.

  Enchanted I watch them go by, friends and family,

  But you here to hold me, makes it a little less tragic.

  They trample over the gardens, crushing all the flowers,

  Possessed they no longer see the beauty of the world,

  Sired by an unknown source, government, terrorist,

  Rumours are not the only things hurled.

  The witch and her cat first took the blame,

  Despite being the light in our dark, our healers,

  But they could not weather the sorrow,

  And disappeared and retracted their feelers.

  No one owned up on the darkest night,

  When the zombies become the norm.

  But here with you, my lost lover and friend,

  I do not care why, when you keep me warm.

  So for over a month, the white demons has ruled,

  Enthralling in their nightly dance.

  Mixed within the black winged angels,

  Together in their deathly trance.

  Tonight the night is ghostly blue,

  Alert with feline instincts, ready to run.

  To become the queen of darkness,

  With my holster and zombie gun.

  Resisting the urge for nocturnal temptations,

  Although each night may be our last.

  If passions become unleashed, death would follow.

  And takes us away from life too fast.

  To be your virginal bride was all I wanted,

  Your wife, lover and artistic muse.

  But the undead took away that life,

  And we have been left singing the blues.

  A glimpse out of the door at the world outside,

  I am faced with a sea of faces of winter.

  But I can not lie to the broken mirror,

  I wish I'd been a better sprinter.

  It would almost be too easy to give up,

  To step out into the night, in the toxic city.

  Yet you wrap your arms around me,

  My lord of the dark, I lose my pity.

  I'd would rather take my chance with humans,

  And dragons would be a calming force,

  But we are hiding for unnatural creation,

  Who want to eat us as a main course.

  There are searching for us like a falcons,

  Homing in on its petrified prey.

  As we hid with the comforter of darkness,

  Waiting for the end in the city of decay

  As the zombies surround the house,

  I hold you in my arms and one last kiss.

  Pounding on the door, the end is now,

  Dying with you would be zombified bliss.

  The End - Rhonda E. Kachur

  Those goddamn things are everywhere!

  Nowhere to run

  Nowhere to hide

  My supplies are running low

  I’m getting hungry

  I’m getting thirsty

  I can’t even defend myself anymore!

  I’m out of ammo

  I’m out of hope

  My mind has been wandering lately…

  Is there anyone else?

  Am I really alone?

  I can’t believe how long it’s been…

  Since I’ve heard laughter

  Since I’ve laughed

  Is it really worth trying to survive anymore?

  There’s no reason left

  There’s nothing left

  There’s only one thing left to do

  Taking down the boards…

  Walking out the door…

  Dead Time – Afobos

  I walk alone in the empty streets. The quiet is loud as the wind whistles lonely through the street signs, animating the torn banners and other remains of the once busy streets. The shuffling of feet sends shivers up my spine, as I walk alone with nothing left, maybe not even time…

  The dead walk the world, and the living hide. The living had their turn and it’s time for the dead to push the breathers to the side. The slow shuffling gate of an animated corpse is slowly headed my way, dripping maggots and other things as I step out of its way blind with no eyeballs to even glance my way. They are easy to sidestep and easy to outrun, and I gave up trying to kill them back in the alley where I lost my gun.

  Two, more sprightly head my way having seen the breathing man and heading for their prey. I pick up the pace and head the other way, only to see a larger group block my path, my breath more visible as I shiver with the winter rain.

  I’ve seen what the undead can do to a man, and I’d rather die any death but the one suffered at long dead hands, my flesh ripped off to satisfy their never ending pain. They eat because that is the only thing they have left.

  They don’t even need the food they eat, and they eat simply because it’s all they know. I’ve seen one eat the living flesh bright red and steaming in the cold, only for it to fall to the pavement below the eater, who had no stomach and no flesh below his collarbone.

  It’s as if the devil has won, and God has gone to hide. Hell is all that’s left, and the dead seem to be in charge of dealing out the pain to atone for the sins of mankind. I pull an arrow out of the quiver on my side and I pull back the string of my bow. It flies true to give the animated corpse its final rest striking deep inside its loathsome brain giving it peace, and a welcome diversion for the ones that follow.

  Lost in the snow covered streets of a forgotten city in a forgotten land, I make my way towards the smoke I have followed since I lost my gun. The light at the distant window high up the once majestic glass covered building of days gone by, shines like a beacon of make believe pulling me in like a moth to a flame.

  To see another living being, and to touch a still warm hand, to find myself with others that yet breathe, it sounds too good to be true, but I trudge through the ankle deep snow, avoiding the dead, and trying not to be tempted by store fronts promising food and things left over from the time before the plague.

  I reach the building that’s lit up, and see the smoke stretching up to the sky, and it’s not a fire as I feared, but someone’s home in the middle of the city of the dead, a beacon of life surrounded by the undead. The group of them is huge around the place, somehow knowing that light and smoke means the living, and they just shuffle and moan and bump into one another knowing nothing but their hunger, and their pain.

  They notice me, and moans start like a twisted chant. A chant born from hell, that makes the hair stand up, and leaves my blood too cold to be warmed by my still beating heart. They come towards me and I see the figures at the window high up above.

  The moans intensify as the undead are cut down by arrows and guns and thrown torches far below. I run towards the throng, and at the last minute dart to the left. I then cut back behind them and run towards the doors now free from the mob hungering for my flesh. The door opens a crack and a voice yells for me to run.

  I take th
e steps five at a time, and roll through the opened door to hear it slam. An angel reaches down to me and takes my hand. She looks into my eyes and smiles as I feel her warm flesh, and I rise to my feet surrounded by the living and welcomed back amongst men.

  The Worst Dream - Kaylene Humphreys

  I awoke with a turn,

  six feet under.

  Pulled my way out,

  walked my way home.

  I grab my wife,

  and bite her all up.

  But I was just saying,

  I had the worst dream.

  I fed on many on my way,

  I remember her shriek.

  When I walked in the door,

  I saw this image.

  I swore I howled,

  then I realized.

  This hunger,

  my dream.

  What all of this means, 

  My now zombie bride.

  Together we hide,

  as the bullets fly by.

  All of this because,

  I swore I awoke,

  from this terrible dream.

  Dead Life - Ragina Sebastian

  It bit me the dead thing, and I wait burning with fever so cold,

  from the bite. I killed it the dead thing. Funny—it did not

  Seem to want to die again. Did it feel anything but hunger?

  Did it feel its life was at stake and take the chance to eat?

  I bashed the things brains in with a knotty pine branch. A vague

  resemblance of pain danced on that things face. I guess I will

  know soon taking the place of a walking dead--of a living dead

  —zombie duplicity—disgrace-- I feel—something shifting.

  Not like, I am under the weather. But, the soul in me is changing,

  or leaving, or crumbling within. The strand of the coil altering—

  changing forever. I need to run—run with agitation--run in fear—

  it is consuming me now how clear it has become. I am a victim

  of a supernatural experience and not a plague. The bug opened

  a door and let a demon inside. So vague my understanding

  so close my death— I, I, I, I, I, I, i, i, i. i, i, i. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  .…move nearer the others who will understand the quest.