When Men Turn Into Zombies

Now, I don't really enjoy going to readings in this city, but I happened upon one the other day full of young writers and poets and thought I'd share a poem by a particularly sad and horny young man by the name of Skylark Hidenburg. What struck me about Skylark was just how sad and just how horny he was. This, my friends, is a deadly combination...


When Men Turn Into Zombies
by Skylark Hidenburg


Did not Thomas Campion say
'Now winter nights enlarge'
Did he mean what I think he meant?
That, this winter, I am enlarged

And that, this winter, I need to find
some winter booty
to assist in my winter enlargement, the deep
winter booty. Before I turn into a zombie

So, Thomas Campion, be my winter booty crooner
and croon me some winter booty.
You see. Without the winter booty
the wintry shades reveal a zombie in me.

A fettered, horny zombie
roaming and ranging the streets
Grueling and groaning, as the living dead,
in search of my living winter booty.

Endlessly.

And endlessly.