David R. “Poppa” Alexander


Long dark hollow faces
Unrecognizable features and their deathly embraces
No one needs to tell me who they are
No one to comfort the haunting mental scar.

They come at night during a restless sleep
From the darkness lurking they creep
Never staying long enough for an ending scare
Always there with their taunting glare

A movement of such you can never observe
Features enough to cause you to lose your nerve
Bloody, twisted, mangled bodies of the undead
Your wet sweaty body as you lie in your bed.

A moan, a scream, a tight death’s grip
Into the realm of the unreal you slip
A though that soon you will awake
But to realize that this isn’t a dream and a journey you must make.

Drug along with the battalion’s of those that are no more
Your mind searching for peace to rid you of this gore
When you think you are doomed to repeat
The reaper you awaken to find he you must cheat.

Haunting creatures that you almost recognize;
Hollow faces, ashen color and sunken eyes,
Pulling at your very soul
Urging you to go on one last patrol.

A gentle shaking by the love of your life
Knowing when you awaken it is your wife.
Tears streaming down her face
Knowing you once again have visited that awful place.