I be zombie, this what I be
walking dead, this is me
I have no fear, I will not flee
a straight path, my destiny.
Through thick and thin, I preserver,
taking on, what foe comes near.
I worry not, I have no peer
I don’t react, to what I hear.
I chose this path, I was so bored,
and in each fight, my spirit soared.
But only once, I cut this cord,
and nothing was, my just reward.
But in the course, of my plight
I came upon, a needed sight
a place of power and of might
So staying zombie, just wasn’t right.
But zombie rules, are still in play
now bringing caution, to this fray
I can not know, how ends this day
but know it must, be done my way
I had happened upon a large covert crime base. The criminals in question, being only the biggest fish in the sea. Big money, big power, big business. But the potential to exploit, ahem, er.. explore this situation was just what I needed to forget the dullness of my existence.
Shedding my Zombie clumsiness, I slipped back into my comfortable boots and simple dark clothes. Still not geared up as I prefered, due to lack of opportunity, but this outfit was silent, so would have to do. Walking unarmed into a nest of vipers, surrounded on all sides by walls of unfamiliar layout. This was a serious game.
I should turn right around and go home, as fast as my feet would carry me. By this time, the pit-stop town I had left behind, had certainly forgotten my petty crimes by now. But this, I would not do. My zombie rules were still in effect. I had not met the victory conditions I had set for myself.
Finding a trash bin, I discarded some of my more useless gear. Good thing too, as doing so, I happened upon two high-powered solid point bullets. They had slipped into the farthest recess of my mess-kit, unnoticed. The steel of my eyes, matching the steel of their casings. “Ahhh, my deadly, loyal friends”. “I love you, you high-powered little objects”. “Your clink is music to my ears.”
I knew clear advantage even in this unfamiliar place. Often more things can be accomplished by a party of one, and much more effectively, than can be accomplished by a group of large numbers. perceiving, that their very size and scope would be the thing of greatest disadvantage to them. I counted on their overconfidence, knowing their blindness would match their perceived power.
As long as I could isolate their detection of my presence, I was assured success. But patience was not my strong point. Patience, was what I needed most.
On any other day, I would have headed straight for the penthouse suites on the top floor. I knew myself, and what I was capable of. But residing within my means, I chose instead a more frugal path. Committing myself to the basement, I edged my way toward the stairs. Skirting all those who lounged around, between myself and my destination. Once below, I would breathe easier, and asses the situation, as well as get a good view of the under-structure of this building. Thus planning my next move.
I had no fear. There were too many advantages on my side for that stupid emotion. If anything, it could be said that I felt elation. Except for the dogs. These were my biggest obstacle and needed to be dealt with as efficiently as 10 crappy bullets could produce. Humans are blind and dumb, but dogs supersede every human weakness.
There at the back of the hallway, and around a corner, on a mat, slept my first challenge.
Zombies are a witty lot
sometimes we scheme, sometimes we plot
we never do what we ought
hoping that we might get caught.
First we steal, then we kill
and keep on doing until we fill
up our lives with iron will
and go on climbing up our hill.
Learning lessons the hard way
chapter 6th w/ poem
Walking away from my three good-for-nothing traveling companions, had me take on a more serious mind. I had added a new rule to my zombie game, thus making it even more challenging for myself. I was really pushing the limits of sane behavior. Was I just too numb to care? Did I wish to die? Nah, never that. I was just really fucking bored.
My rule said, I must push forward always, until I could return triumphant. I could not return otherwise, and I could not cheat. Accepting the consequences for my zombie actions, I must stay alive, using only what chance gave me. I put myself in harm’s way. But I did not do so, lightly. Self defence became my topmost priority. Perhaps even an obsession.
My zombie self morphed a little here. I would not resume thinking. My brain was still switched into the off position. But yet my form felt more like a lone deer who’s path crossed a huge open field. My silhouette fully exposed with a hunter behind every tree. I started to take my stealth seriously, using every trick I knew and then some. But there were rules to follow even in this. I must only walk straight ahead. I guess now, I was a zombie deer.
I knew my world well. Everything I could ever want was always at my fingertips. It was surprising how that now, I could find nothing that I needed. Very surprising.
I had not known how much of my success before, was directly attributed to my own efforts. Not until, I stopped making those efforts. But here I speak with hindsite. At the time, as I walked around, obsessing over my safety and looking for bullets, I was extremely upset with lady luck.
I figured it was all just a fluke of bad luck and chance timing. With every step proving futile, I became more and more befuddled with my luck. I became so serious, it’s a miracle I could walk, what, with how tight my butt cheeks were clenched.
I did locate a few discarded bullets on the ground beside a stream crossing. Primed and workable, but as luck would have it, they were just more of the crap bullets I already had two of. Now I had 10 bullets. I breathed a bit easier. regarding them like true friends in a time of need. But the irony of it all did not escape me. I had many weapons on my person. All of them useless without shells and powder.
Despite what I just said, that being something to the effect of, ‘we make our own fates,’ yet, I am a believer, in fate as having an element apart from myself. It’s the variable that adds surprises to life. Like weather, it can be predicted but never mapped with accuracy.
Fate blew on me this day, for despite thinking I knew every square inch of my territory, my feet had been set on a path I had always previously disregarded. A new trail, I had never bothered to learn. Yeah, I knew it existed, I knew it led somewhere, but I had never made the effort, and so I was blind, for real, in this respect.
My foreword stepping zombie-deer feet-hooves brought me right up to a door hidden in plain sight. The door of a local government building. hmmmm, so this is where the mafia has their base of operations, wow! Pondering this, it all made perfect sense.
Now being me, I would prefer not to go into that tangled mess of a hornets nest.
But I really needed some bullets. I really wanted to go home, so I could get back to life as usual. Clean, well dressed, well supplied and well rested. But I couldn’t do that, until I won my challenge. Damn, if I didn’t know they of all people would likely have all the bullets, weapons, and treasure beyond even my imaginings. I opened up the hidden door, and crept inside.
You’ve dropped me down.
I stood up tall, you cut me down
I tried to smile, you made me frown
When I heal, you come aroun’
Because of you, I want to drown.
My life is nothing.
You say that love is what we need
But when I try, you make me bleed.
I tried to plant a lover’s seed
But it was thrown to swine for feed.
I am the swine.
So now my soul has given up
in your hand, you hold a cup
with my blood, it is filled up
On my heart, tonight you sup.
I die for you
So close my eyes, when you are through
And pay the ferry man his due.
Making sure that I get to
The place where I won’t be with you.
I’m in purgatory.
And in the end, when all is done
Each living scene, played out in fun.
You’ll figure out, I was the one
That ceased to be, a discarded son.
I am made new.
Dragons, dragons everywhere
I see them in my mind.
They never try to eat me up,
I swear their not that kind.
So if you’d like to see the things,
I see behind my face,
Then come and see me in my room
a padded, safety place.
Some people say that I am gone
my brain don’t work no more
because I drool from off my chin,
then lick it off the floor.
I’ve been inside this safety place
for now on twenty years
I run my head into the walls
to chase away my fears.
Goo, goo, ga ga’s what I say
when I try to talk.
Twitching, jumping, goes my legs
it must be lectro shock.
Hello guys, I just got done surfing the tag surfer. I was looking for interesting things to subscribe to. Well, long story short, there are a lot of crappy totally uninteresting blogs out there. But I found out, while surfing that if you read the blogs out loud while speaking in a funny voice. For example) Mr. Mackie from South Park, or Southern hick voice, or, high-pitched little whiner, well then, blog reading becomes much more interesting. Try it sometime. My blog volunteers. It’s probably pretty dull too.
Where does my soul come from?
from fiery hell, does my soul run
a tortured corpse, my life’s undone
My rotting flesh carries a gun.
Fingers of bone, clench gun of steel
Hands so cold, unable to feel.
Sitting down, for my next meal
Hoping for my mind to heal.
Undead I walk, yet live I be
many things, through dead eyes see
from nought I run, from nought I flee
I stand tall, this decaying tree.
Every day I waste my time
daring fate, to be sublime
all that I meet, I consider slime
But zombie-like, is not a crime.
Testing the limits.
chapter 5th w/ poem
Tagging along behind three well outfitted travelers guaranteed my survival, but did nothing towards enlarging my prospects. They had promised me a fair share of their spoils but thus far, their crime sprees had only yielded more of the crap I already had plenty of. Nothing useful turned up.
I mean really, the whole shitty world is full of bad asses and bandits, but then why do the victims who fall prey to these guys have only petty cash and switch-blades on them? What the hell? As my frustration deepend with each pathetic crime spree not giving me what I wanted, I grew more and more un-zombie-like. I began to plot. I needed bullets damn it!
I got pissed at my comrades for not tossing me a little something when I obviously lacked means. But then again, these three were not the most reputable of kind. They were gypsies, riff-raff, scum. Therefore expendable. Should I kill them, the world would not mind. In fact, I would be doing society a favor.
Fed up by the lack of spoils and the long, long, miles we were covering between marks, I began to manipulate the environment. I started to exaggerate my zombie shuffle. I mean, I was the guy who in the heat of a stealth mission would stub my toe and yell, “oops!” I hoped to bring more action down on their heads.
But the town was too passive and the pickins seemed too slim. I was pretty certain at this point that they were not sharing the spoils equally as they said they would. Which was just too bad. I don’t tolerate lack of honor amongst thieves, especially when it is directed at myself.
I started to get in the way of missions. but fate seemed against me. These three were too close-knit. Bastards! In a final act of recklessness I jogged up ahead of them and stashed my heavy pack into a culvert. Then ranged about a mile in every direction till I located a gang of 5 career criminals. I burst upon them, wasted a bullet into the arm of the 2nd in command who was on guard at the time, and then dashed up to the leader. I bitch slapped him right across the face.
Yeah, that sounds crazy, but such brashness was enough to ensure I kept my skin. I sprinted away fast, but not too fast and led them right back to my pathetic crew of petty gypsies. Now I put on true speed, and promptly disappeared from the field.
I watched in hungry anticipation. Let one or more of these bastards die, and I could resupply from the corpse and be on my way. For by now, I was dying to get the hell away from this horrid routine of waiting on charity from chance.
Alas, the gypsies survived. I was not surprised to find the newest kills had no bullets. “Yeah, right, fucking lying, gypsy bastards!” The female gypsy had acquired a serious wound. She was sure to die if just one more battle could find her. But then I remembered my reason for being here in the first place.
I was supposed to be a zombie. I wanted to prove I could survive, even if overmatched, and under-supplied. Minimal effort. That was the rule I had made for myself. So I added an addendum to the rule, direct manipulation of environments was not allowed. Play by the rules, man! You’re a zombie! You wanted a challenge? Heres your challenge.
I settled back into the routine of passive following. Duuuuh. But the wounded Gypsy was now at the back. She could hardly keep up the pace.
I could understand these gypsies not showing me loyalty or honesty (I was a stranger after all), still, I was amazed that they treated one of their own number in the same way. There own wounded comrade, fended for herself. It reminded me of the way conquering nations would treat captives on a forced march. I wondered how insane they must be, to behave that way. How stupid.
At that moment I memorised their faces. No, I would not hunt them down, but should they cross my path of their own volition in the future, when I was not playing zombie? I would most certainly enjoy killing them.
The wounded gypsy kept stopping to double over and catch her breath. I stopped nearby, like a vulture, waiting. But I knew wounds well. Excepting something else got to her, she would likely live for another 24 hours. She hung so far back, I knew it would be a long time before she dropped.
The prospect of waiting was too much for me. So I gathered my zombie self together and shuffled off in the opposite direction, never to return. I now had 2 bullets left.