Temporary novel writing block gives rise to poetry. Keep the oils warm and flowing. As you must.



The zombies are here

Shuffling, waddling, limping


In sallow anywhere roam

On numb streets and churchyard stones

Swingless parks and shopless malls

Men in tie-belted trench coats

And bobble hats

Dripline butt Old Holborns

Dry fused to ash lips

Worn once women cocooned in wardrobes

Plastic bag comforts rictus fisted

Sports shoe unlaced

Just moving


The haunts of compass rest

To scavenge on

A path ill chosen

A siren deceit

The coin turn call

The bed unmade

The life unlived.

We watch the zombies

With bright knowing eye

Of thankful conceit

As we stumble the crypt road





Copyright Jasper Dorgan 2018