People

Eyes vacant – they are blinded by
Too many varied stimuli.
They see you not as they pass by.
They are humanity.

Not hearing for the brain would scream
If all the noises could get through.
So they knock off.  They’re in a dream.
They’re them and me and you.

Worried, withdrawn, they only see
Confusing things to cook for tea.
“A chop for him, an egg for me”.
They are humanity.

Zombies produced by polythene
And plastic bags – save twopence
When you buy sixteen
Instead of one.  They’re us.

Their faces glare – no smiles are there.
Intently searching on the racks
For this, for that, why should they care
That they’re humanity.

“Ideals aspirations and aggression
Lend me your traits.
I come to bury zombies not produce them.”

The positiveness dies in men before their 18^th birthday,
Atrophied with disuse.
If sex appeal should sell the goods,
Sell on.

Give them excess of sex that surfeiting
The appetite will sicken and so die,
And so decrease the zombies.

They are not happy, neither are
They otherwise.  There’s deadness
Where the life should be – but life they fear.
These people.

© EGB