Living Dead
Living Dead
The calendar flips faster
than the pages
Of a Stephen King best seller
It’s a horror
waking up to the same
Bricks and blocks
steel bunks
chains and locks
My mind screams
shakes the fences
Mule kicks the cage door.
They don’t budge
Couldn’t care less
Foundation too deep
Tradition too strong
I’ve seen wounded minds
Tire
Creativity spill
And congeal
on the way to the infirmary
Treated with indifference
We pass away
In a way
Not quite dead
Neither alive
Zombies
Shower shoes scrape and slide
through the blocks
bop, throw dice, turn cards
and get high.
Soulless eyes
thoughts as dark as night
visions of shooting it out
in broad daylight
Not for the thrill
But so the world can feel
what it is like
to cope with
living hopeless
Through oppression
and bad choices
We lost our voices
Can’t find our tears
Our hearts boohoo
But nobody hears.
