Subway (an acrostic poem)

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Submerged below tons of dirt and rock

Under the people scurrying like insects in metallic carcasses

Believers in mass transit meditated as their bodies gently swayed

Weaving their way through a complex anthill structure

And then regurgitated back up to the surface like zombies risen from the dead

Yearning for homes instead of brains

Cut (an acrostic poem)

“Can’t believe he isn’t bleeding out”

“Unless that means what I think that means”…

The zombie crunched away at the fresh brains, so yummy.  They should have run.

Rise Up (an acrostic poem)

Reach deep down inside of you when you feel dead

It’s there where you’re power resides

Set it loose upon your world

Everyone will fear your inner zombie

 

Undead and dangerous, you climb out of your energy grave

Pushing upright you shuffle off to find your brains

 

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Zombified (a 100 word story)

The call for brains escaped Bob’s mouth.  He remembered the good old days before the blight had swept the realm.  Brains were everywhere, plentiful if a bit pickled in the alcohol and first and second hand cigarette smoke.  Over time the smoke for the most part cleared, but then the new blight began to spread.  More and more zombies were created, leaving him starved for the brains he craved.  Still Bob soldiered on, looking for that most precious commodity.  Those damn screens have destroyed so many brains, leaving Bob to lecture at those zombies instead of teaching.  Brains.  Brains!  BRAINS!