Zombies Are Not Dead Poem by Hebert Logerie

The zombies, I do not know if they're wrong
Zombies are not dead
They are on the left, right, everywhere
In the womb of the government
In the aorta of the parliament
They circulate like cuckoos
Like cool fools
Like inebriated hyenas
Like improvised cretins
Like the malandrins
Like the dishonest bums
And like chatterboxes.

Zombies are on the ground
They are not in the cemeteries
They breathe like living beings
And walk like sore losers.
Zombies are not dead
They never have remorse.
Zombies are not humans
Although they devour bread
With their own hands.
At night, they sleep under the trees
Under the oaks, under the mapous trees
With the werewolves.
By day, they stroll like vagabonds
In shambles, like crazy foxes
Wandering on the beaches and under the bridges.
The zombies are seen everywhere
They work in the administration.
The zombies do not think much
They cause havoc, troubles and wars
Due to actions, inactions and exactions.
How sad, we keep silent, do not care
Like crazy people
Then we say nichts, nothing
We're afraid of cats and dogs
Especially in the evening. We are zombified
We are all zombified, flouted and baffled
By the agents, by a way of life
By a system that destroys, punishes
And never is reconciled.
We died at night
And are imprisoned deep in the well
At the arrival of the sun.
We all sleep. We're all fooled
Zombies are not dead
They are also alive on board.

Copyright © May 2017 Logerie Hebert, all rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poems.