Unwelcome Occupation Poem by Mike Smith
Unwelcome Occupation
I was a zombie once
Or twice rather, to be truthful
Not some wretched infectious thing
Looking to spread my dismay
Or devour those around me
Yet infected I was
There was no clear beginning
No pinpoint bite which impaled me
Simply a gradual descent from humanity
A slow and somber roll away from that which was essentially me
I became mute
Not just in voice
But in thought as well
I can remember often times telling myself
Just say something
Just think anything
But words never came
And thoughts would not appear
There was no comfort
There was no escape
Can one escape?
Retreat its own mind
Its own distorted perceptions
No, a zombie had embodied me
And I was powerless to force it out
And in my fear
In my all consuming agony
In my utter lack of ability to overcome the zombie
In my dismissal of any chance of recovery
I forced myself into seclusion
How could I be seen this way
How could I admit my infection
My affliction
My disease
My inferiority
And thusly, my zombiehood was allowed to fester
To grow and transform inside me
Even as I hated it all the more absolutely
Even as it systematically destroyed me from the inside out
Even as it tried to make me destroy myself
Even as the world went on unknowing
Even as I knew it all too well
Even so, I let it fester
And rot
And decay my mind beyond recognition
Beyond reformation
Beyond repair
To such an extent
That for quite some time
For eternity it seemed (then)
I simply accepted it as fact
I have been made a zombie
A zombie is what I am
And a zombie I will remain
But then
Much in the way that it appeared
Not happening all at once
Nor in leaps and bounds
But incrementally
Minutely
The monster began to subside
An antidote
A saving grace
Had interfered
And as it suppressed the zombie inside
As it distracted and weakened the monster
I began to emerge
Not the same
Not unscathed
Not somehow more powerful or grander for it
But aware
Aware of the control I had lost
Aware of an urgency
A newfound desire inside me
To fight to regain that control
To be rid of this parasite
And to reclaim my own mind from its hollow, despair-mongering, hijacker
And over time
And not without many a painfully earned small victory
I had dispelled him
And my zombie had vanished
Leaving in its wake
Something similar to my formal self
Yet somehow
Altogether different
Altogether different
I always thought people around me are zombies .... they're still are... one thing they talk to themselves all the time.
Wow! I think that I have not yet finished the process you have described, but I am intimately familiar with it. Many things contributed to the infection. Some so trivial that I am still not aware of them, some looming; unavoidably and monstrously large. As with many a disease, the first step to a cure is recognition and admitting that some ill has indeed taken hold. Any difference at the end of the occupation is a mutation of sorts, but I'd like to think not a total loss of the original. Another 10, Mike!
To say that I've finished the process is likely an overstatement. Yet, as the poem ends somewhat hopefully, I believe I've sequestered the fester so to speak. Thanks for the review Kelly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 6:15:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I know this is one of your earlier works but its still a powerful read, like others before have said, Ive been inflicted with that malignant affliction of zombiefication, in fact there are still days I feel it clawing through me, the dead weight of days rotting ambitions and lost joy sapping everything until there is nothing but a walking dead man, seeing but not feeling anything around. Whether its called depression, anxiety or being a zombie (or as I like to call it working in retail) its all the same thing, accepting what you are and who you are is the first step to finding Just living helps. You changed, you found an antidote to being a zombie that alone makes this a wonderful read, and just inspiration to continue. This isn't just a poem its a message for hope, its art and its finest.
You give me too much credit. I thank you sincerely anyhow. I agree with what you say, that the zombie can strike at anytime. I find myself encountering it, often, but I've come to a point where I've grown quite good at recognizing it. And therefore I can snub it out early... The best comparison I can make is that I have a terrible reaction to poison ivy. I've come down with it such a number of times that, through study and experience, I've become very (very) keen at spotting the plant. And when I do, I avoid it like the plague.... Probably all somewhat irrelevant. But thank you very much for your comment Kevin. I do appreciate it