Tis the day of walking dead Zombie look at me Look at me Do I appear to be Among the living It may seem that way Going about my business Greeting the day In a polite conversational way If you look closely you will see That I see What I see Means nothing to me That I hear What I hear Means nothing to me Such is the mind of the walking dead Scooped out meaningness A hollow and vacant cadaver A brown paper wrapper I gaze out the window A little red bird, restfully Perched on a chain link fence, then What non-thought moves you Branch to unsteady branch Are their other little red birds nearby With which, with whom you can fly Please tell me why For I am lost to my flock My concrete view is filtered Through shades of green and gray Is that gray with an e or an a Never mind While motion stills my mind Cars of steel fly by Framing the sill Leaving thought things behind
Tis the day of the walking dead The dead don’t try They just die And keep walking Unshakable and unbreakable Perhaps numbing death Leaving behind The unkind Tendencies Of one kind or another Perhaps one of many Perhaps painful Perhaps slow and steady A prayer and a song You’re wrong
My breathing is shallow Thoughts keep repeating themselves Synaptic electric mantras Chemical fueled and fused Electra orchestra Shades of Zarathustra
(ok, forget it you don’t mean it ok, you meant it eat mush for breakfast every single day day after boring day eat mush today because you ate mush yesterday and the day before and the day before the day before mush, mush, mush such maudlin sentiments stirred up my resentment because well I happen to love mush you really must will you please save some mush for me because I happen to love mush the way I do and understand it the way I do and can’t stand it the way I do that your mush is not for me and I’m seeing red but it’s not a bird and it’s not perched peacefully on a fence)
That you have made room for mush Is so sweet So sensible
For someone else So, crybaby You were somewhere in the woods Crouched down Behind yourself Standing I waved to yourself standing To move Then threw a ticking clock at your head Crouching down No symbolism intended
I meant it to hurt And hope that it did So you can be among the walking DEAD. Then I woke up So satisfied What's wrong with me?