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JM Romig Aug 2010
Every night I load my riffle
take my post
and wait

The waiting is the worst part
it's like fishing
you have too much time
to think about ****

I usually think about my life
and how much of a loser I was
living under my brother's perfect family home
like a troll under a bridge
distracting myself with Call of Duty
and beer

But then the world ended
and it was the best thing that could have happened
for me, that is

Not so much for my brother
who met his demise while on an evening jog
on an otherwise insignificant Saturday

I didn't know any of this until two days later
coming out of my cave to get more beer
to realize that the only one still there
was my brother's beautiful inconsolable wife
she thought I'd been dead
like everyone else
and awkwardly hugged me

She had just gotten word about her two missing children
the ******* little boy was found
gnawing on his little sister's arm
the rest of her was motionless, on a street a mile away

Killing them is too easy
way easier than I thought it would be
you just follow the rules laid out for us in the folklore
aim for the head
keep your distance
don't second guess yourself
double tap

I'm not a religious man
I have no particular thoughts about the soul
I leave those questions for the priests and philosophers

I don't care
I do my job
and I do it well

I've won
I've taken my prize
I spend my days with the woman I've always  loved
but could never have
and my nights doing what I do best
playing a game

I pull the trigger
it's head explodes
in a gust of red mist
...just like in the movies
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well.- From The Poetry Of Sanctuary 251
JM Romig Aug 2010
You know, man
before all this went down
I used to think that zombies
were just a metaphor

Really? For what?

Yeah, like, for our struggle
to remain individuals
in a consumer driven culture
where identity is mass-produced
and we are pressured to belong
to some sort of group
or fit into some sort of mold
It’s like being the last survivor in a zombie apocalypse
it’s only a matter of time…

That’s some deep ****

Yeah, this is good ****

What do you think it means now?
You know, now that it’s really happening

It doesn’t mean anything now
Consumer culture is dead, man
People want to be able to eat and ****
and not have to worry about dying every day.
That’s Maslow’s hierarchy of needs man
didn’t you learn anything in highschool?

***** you, dude
What’s that diploma doing for you anyway?

Touché

Dude, puff puff pass!
Quit hoggin all my ****
…****
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well- From The Poetry Of Sanctuary 251
JM Romig Aug 2010
He takes in a deep long breath
and billows out the flames
on all nine candles

His mother smiles
and remembers they day he was born
the only doctor in the sanctuary at the time
had been a dentist
he pulled him out of her
like a stubborn tooth

For those first few months
she stayed awake every night
watching him
terrified
hoping
and hating herself for hoping
that he would stop breathing
in the middle of the night

On his first birthday
218 had experienced a breach
nearly everyone was infected
no survivors
she thought about taking his life then

She poisoned his sippy-cup
with the stuff they used to **** the roaches
and in a fleeting moment of weakness
dumped it down the drain

When she does sleep
she relives her father changing
into a monster
and watches the man who raised her
chomp into the forearm of the man she was to marry

She remembers how much blood there was
and how much she hated them
and loved them
at the same time

The little boy
turns and shoots her a thank you smile
she smiles back
faint and almost fake

She makes a wish
but does not dare tell a soul
and continues to hate herself
for loving him too much
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well- From The Poetry Of Sanctuary 251
JM Romig Aug 2010
My father made me a makeshift dollhouse
one year for Christmas.
It sits in my room now, having been untouched for years.
It's cheaply made from a recycled dresser's wood
The insides are bare, lacking furniture.
When it's obvious flaws are ignored
it's sort of perfect.

Like it's patheticness has some charm.
I can't help but think that it is the perfect metaphor
for my family.
Facebook has an awesome person spitting out awesome prompts every day. I have been doing them for a while now. I felt I should share some with you guys.
JM Romig Aug 2010
Reruns of That 70s Show
Interrupted
by the blonde lady
who smiles too much

She says there was a breakthrough
a medical miracle
They brought one back to life

I step outside for a cigarette
already, the town has gone nuts

A group of people
standing outside the grocery store
with signs that say
AbomiNation
and
We Can't Play God

They tell me that it's wrong
to circumvent God's punishment
that only bad can come
from bringing the undead back to life

The sick *****
honestly still think there is a god
and that this hell on Earth is his will
if so, that's no god of mine

They scream at me
trying to tell me what to think
while I buy my milk
and ****
just to make them gasp

This heathen here
really don't care
I'm more concerned with whether or not
Hyde and Jackie are getting back together
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well
JM Romig Aug 2010
I was dead for ten years
until yesterday
They woke me up
to tell me it's okay now
I'm cured

My mission
was to save as many as I could
but I failed
They tell me it's okay now
I'm cured

She was maybe ten
or eleven years old
I tapped her on the shoulder
told her
that the helicopter was waiting for us
she bit me
They tell me it's okay now
I'm cured

I spent a decade
as a mindless cannibal
I must have killed
and feasted on
hundreds
if not thousands of people
and I remember it all
in detail

but They tell it's okay now
I'm cured
like it's Chicken Pox
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.

Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.

Be sure to read the other poems in this series as well
JM Romig Aug 2010
The lack of poetic tongue
in my response
is sure to disappoint.
But I have a headache,
and my life *****,
and the baby won't stop freakin' crying.
What do you want from me, people?
I can't **** you out a masterpiece every time!!

...and I'm a little drunk.
Facebook has an awesome person spitting out awesome prompts every day. I have been doing them for a while now. I felt I should share some with you guys.
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