The Zombie [2] Poem by Gert Strydom

At midnight I was woken from my sleep
with eyes barely open into a bright flashlight I did peep
and someone unexpected and uninvited was in my room
fear's little tentacles did up and down my back creep

before chloroform did let everything fade away
but when I did awake again it was bright day.
They did cuff my hands and feet
while outside some sombre music did play.

Un-cuffed I was dragged onto a stage through a side door,
there was of a demonic cult hundreds of people or more
and at the sight of me they suddenly turned from sombre to happy.
Jesus changed people's lives from what it was before

and to being Christian of this cult I had converted too many
where they did not want me to talk with, to pray for any.
There was a golden throne that was empty and imposing
and I realised a crucifixion they were going to see

on this Easter Sunday when the high priest lifted a thorny crown
but great surprise was his when I did meekly bow down
did aloud pray: "Jesus, Lord God forgive them"
and somehow he had made my words his own.

"My Lord, anything is possible for you,
you are present in everything I do
and here I am in need of help
please do come to my rescue."

Maybe it had been the teachings of his parents as a child
but his grim deadly stone face had turned to mild
while he did repeat my very words
and almost exploding with anger the crowd went wild.

Lucifer did appear on the throne and suddenly there was utter silence,
I looked into his overpowering evil eyes as his evil presence I did sense
where he appeared as a man who was handsome in shining white,
did slap his fingers at the high priest's words or at his incompetence.

One of the devout members, a huge man that was holding me
started to transform from being human into a zombie,
into a living-dead walking thing to destroy the high priest
and the high priest tried to run away off the stage to be free.

The zombie was a skeleton with flesh and bone,
his eyes looked lifeless as if they were from stone
but all his senses were at the prime
and he leapt to where the priest had gone,

who realised that he could not outrun it
and turned, pulled a.375 magnum and fired and did hit,
the zombie did not falter and did jump on him,
then slowly did tear him to pieces jerking of limbs bit by bit.

The congregation were silent and did not move
as if each one of them was scared of reproof
as if anything would draw the zombie to one of them
or that the Devil would of one them disapprove

and in all improbability
while to freedom I did flee
a police squad car I did find
and in my mind I still at times do that zombie see:

with its huge bony hands moving crunching
with its skeletal teeth on the victim munching
and it being a walking dead half-human
ultimately ugly disciplinary half living thing

that ripped from the victim the guts and gore
while revolting it acted more and more
and the people caught were seen by the police
as some maniacs who do the devil adore.

© Gert Strydom