Zombie Feeding Time Poem by Kevin Patrick

He sighs with weight deep in his breath
Marked by unease in his dog collar vests
While dutifully watching the concrete frontier
For the Fords and Escalades that march at the rear
While the infantry marines of dodge caravans
Spew there side doors with kindergarten clans
There's no rest for the weary mobilized at his station
When its times to collect for the fast food nation

It's a zombie feeding time
At the Alamo funhouse ride
Where as guests you may engorge
Your Esophagus on wage slave clerks

They commence like clockwork starving for more
When the sun beams decent, between noon and four
S.U.V. always searching for the nearest parking space
Its unfortunate the handicap wins with first place
Seconds tick as he runs, through the parking lot stalls
Dodging enemy combatants, in their long rental hauls
Picking up what he can of double-deckers and singles
To barricade the foyer for the waves of avengers

It's the zombie feeding time
The dinner gong ring's for the blind
They rendezvous together as a hive
And get frustrated at the checkmark line

It's a random stampede in the social pedigree
East end couch fleas, and the Summertown gantry
Silver girl divas with green cards to heaven
Denim grease dukes that dress like their eleven
Converging unison for their appetites appointment
Getting caught in the tracks of fliers and sweepstakes
Salivating for new cravens, with half price of a purchase
It's a grill, it's a pool, and it's a box of macaroons
A life time worth of soda, or guarantee on free salami
Everything is equal gain, even if it blows your tummy

It's a zombie feeding time
For carnivore mercenary pride
You can be a social epidemic
Bickering complaints to the empty apathetic

Through the glass doors he watches them come
Lugubrious movements from across the parking lot
From the T.D. Bank on the corner of Brookdale
Across the Westside the garden center at 'Clair's'
It's an all eat buffet, with an income you can pay
Try to be a man and fight with honors' to sway
Act like you know more than what you're paid for
Shell shocked brother's retreat to the water coolers

It's the zombie feeding time
An apocalypse cuisine slide
The Alamo for underpaid clerks
Reprimanded by consummated jerks


Sweat pours his brow as the rampage ensues
Manning the corral while his bosses aren't clued
Demand strips supply micro budgets are the fault
Were naked to attacks from shopping feast assault
Build a wider vestibule, with greater extension
More room for the carts, during the hours of demand
But were being consumed by a constant invasion
Of mental molasses's that attracts like black ants

It's the zombie feeding time
When the thoughtless have arrived
Illiterate to self respect and manners
Give them what they want on a silver platter



Where down to the line, outgunned by the ghouls
Outstretched by resources and nothing looks good
The bins are congested overflowing with buggies
Picked as the scraps of muddled leftover guts
He arranges a last stand praying for an evac
Taking whatever he can to barricade the stalls
Ripped to pieces in seconds all goes to pot
It's Just a Friday night for the hard-line grunt


It's the zombie feeding time
Now I'm going to wave goodbye
Cause there's more to life then this
Being a parking lot to bash