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Zombie - 1
Squealing alarm sharp at six
Begins another mundane day
There appears to be a jinx
The Zombie rises,brushes,shaves,showers
Fragrance of aftershave fades soon
He'd love to see fresh washed flowers
Formal creased shirt, black trousers
Brylcreem rubbed into wet hair
Worn long for fancy or some maiden fair ?
He's the Zombie of the concrete jungle
He'd love to savour the sweet jingle
Of the ruddy belle in yonderland
Ten grand office job robs him of his shine
The Zombie sits at his office desk
Lifeless files,cabinets,assistants,cashiers
Most off their peak weary with years
Bright fluoresecnt lights,the shiny computers
The mouse, lifeless cannot run away
Nor can the Zombie leave his desk
Spondylitis, backache, headache, stress
The Zombie would love to enjoy the soft caress
Of the pleasurable winter sun
Fiery red glowed the sun in rage
At the Zombie in his air conditioned cage
The modern man in the modern age !
Years fade away into yesteryears
Sideburns grey black tuft of hair vanish
Into money magic, Zombie turns bald
Zombie loosens his tie in the moonlit night
Under the sparkling stars the Zombie
Drives himself and his car back home
To his home ? Does he have a home.. a family ?
The price for money is far too many
The Zombie dreams in his soft cool bed
"Tomorrow my son will be wed
To a Miss Zombie of gennext "
Do Zombies dream ? Maybe yes !
They cannot speak, they can't shed tears !
© Bishwanath Mukherjee
