The Living Dead Poem by Zechariah Macon

Disembodied voices
Phantom voices
this is a world of ghost
where if you have the ears
you can hear
the chains that rattle
on the feet of common-place men
the pounding of feet
any feet
on any street
would chill your soul
if you could
hear the beat
of
hearts that undie
as many a children
lie
growing colder
in their beds at night

Enslaved voices
Tortured, raspy voices
the underworld is closer than you
think
around the corner
in the eyes of every person(mourner)
people are broken
(long past the brink)
Just look in those eyes
(that is shame)
Forget all the lies
(saying what they have became)
miserable
shells
so long
empty
they forgot what
it means to be full
mere shells
(not built to last)
and its a miracle we have
survived this long
how strong we are
how stubborn
how stupidly, senselessly
stubborn
we have became
(I guess its true the dead never change)

And we are most
certainly dead
with our diembodied
tortured
and most above all
lost voices