Posted on Leave a comment

The Undead Are Banging On Our Doors by Chad Parenteau

It’s relaxing to shuffle
on once sulfurous-sored feet
my back no longer aching
though stiff as this hard oak door.

I’m in feed-mode. I see through
cataracted lenses. I rend with
bad teeth that baffle dentists
and I scoff indigestion

that once mocked my stomach in
every bathroom. Through deaf ears
they all scream like bad children
pocketed slingshots, holes in windows,

repenting to their parents
once they’re caught with cigarettes
with lack of all hope. Their breaths
still try to push back their fate

hoping that I’m really dumb,
though I have more brains than them
stuffed like pens in shirt pockets
grey PHD’s stuffed in pants

I’ll rediscover when food’s scarce,
or that they can make a dash
cleverly spin circles round
and round me. No. Not these kids.

 

(After “Animals Are Passing From Our Lives” by Philip Levine)

 

Wrong Note © James Conant
Wrong Note © James Conant

 

James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.

Chad Parenteau is a contributing editor to Oddball Magazine. His poetry collection Patron Emeritus is available through FootHills Publishing.

Monday’s Zombie Poem

Tuesday’s Zombie Poems

Wednesday’s Zombie Poems

 

Advertisements
Posted on Leave a comment

Two Zombie Limericks by Chad Parenteau

There’s too much undead in the room.
My boomstick no longer goes boom.
My shirt now has a stain
that just might be my brain.
There’s one more undead in the room.

 

Hipster zombies are starting to grieve
for their scene that they tout on red sleeves.
Now the scenes’ also dead,
but it’s moaned (meaning said)
that there’s no way that they can just leave.

Taste like chicken
© 2013 James Conant

James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.

Chad Parenteau is a contributing editor to Oddball Magazine. His poetry collection Patron Emeritus is available through FootHills Publishing.

Monday’s Zombie Poem

Tuesday’s Zombie Poems

Posted on Leave a comment

Two Zombie Poems by Chad Parenteau

Roommate Of Zombie Tries To Say

I, uh, just ate
the plums
half-rotting
in the fridge

which, uh
you were probably
never
gonna eat

I’m sorry–
wait what are you d-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

 

A Red Chainsaw Hand

So much depends
upon

A red chain
saw hand

Steadying
boom stick

aimed for the head
groovy.

 

Oh Dear
© 2013 James Conant

James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.

Chad Parenteau is a contributing editor to Oddball Magazine. His poetry collection Patron Emeritus is available through FootHills Publishing.

Monday’s Zombie Poem

Posted on Leave a comment

Eating Poets by Chad Parenteau

Eating Poets
Chad Parenteau

Similes slobber like intestines from my gut.
There’s no profound zombie like me.
I have been eating poets.

The alpha zombie doesn’t even have a clue.
His look is blank
and he walks with a shat-pants shuffle.

The poet’s gone.
the sky tear blue.
Two dogs interfere with my beginning of a haiku.

The eyeballs roll
from my hands like berries.
The alpha zombie starts to growl at my wasting of food.

He’s totally clueless.
When I pull the pen from my skull to write,
he freaks.

I’m human again.
I tear at trees for bark.
I scrawl on them while I roam the park.

I Want In © 2013 James Conant
I Want In © 2013 James Conant

James Conant is a Cambridge artist who has recently added photography to his skills, which include clay sculpture, pen and ink, montages, and pencil art. He is always available for work and collaboration.

Chad Parenteau is a contributing editor to Oddball Magazine. His poetry collection Patron Emeritus is available through FootHills Publishing.