The Greatest Poem In The World: Part 2

Previously on... The Zombie In My Locker And How It Got There

To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?

Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray

In the end, the decision
Was sort of made for me
A man driving a bus,
Aged four thousand and forty

It arrived with a squeal of breaks
And an ominous death-rattle
From inside, a small voice shrilled
"I'm gonna tattle!"

It's color was yellow
It's vibe was annoying
Inside me I felt
A sense of dread growing

The door swooshed open
With a hiss and a squeak
The wrinkly old driver
Hadn't moved in a week

On the inside I screamed
On the out, climbed aboard
It's the fastest way to school
I rationalized and deplored

Once inside the aging deathtrap
I wandered down the aisle
Passing screaming children
And a hobo with a pedosmile

One hour later
Chance of survival was bleak
When we pulled in the school
Our sanity mushy and weak

I hopped to the pavement
And sprinted to the door
But I ran into five people
And they fell to the floor

Standing in the hallway
Where we always stand
Were Venom and Jaybrams
And That Guy from That Band

"Guys!" I ran up and yelled
"We've got a situation!"
Venom gasped "Will it save us
From our torturous education?"

Jaybrams screamed, suddenly
'Cause she saw the zombie
So we ran down the hallway
Venom, Jaybrams, and Me

We chased it through the H-S
Screaming "CEASE AND DESIST!"
Ran past Eric and Ryan
And Joey and Chris

It ran up the stairs
And we cornered the focker
It made a mad dash for freedom
Straight to 210, my locker

And it's still in there
It's out of your hair
So fear not, and go STEALTH-KILL! Devin
But I've got a problem
And my problem is...
I'm late for English 7

Okay, I admit it. This is a terrible poem. It's rhyming is half-assed, at best. Rhythm? Nonexistent. But I do -- sometimes -- write serious poetry. Or some crap I make up that sounds serious. And, like, deep. That's why I've started a poetry blog (Accessible from my profile)! I haven't posted anything yet. But I'm going to. Like, right now.
Later much!

Signing off,
Sweet But Insane

The Greatest Poem In The World -- Part One

"The Zombie in my Locker and How it Got There"

Part One

By Me

There's a zombie with the munchies

And he's in my locker
I knew I shouldn't have watched Zombieland
Instead of seeing Little Fockers

There was a close-up of the undead
And then it jumped off the screen
Like Lady Gaga, messed up in the head
And acting really mean

It snarled and growled
And ran 'round my house
It ate half a sports car
And my imaginary spouse

And it was going for me
When I shot it times three
But two bullets missed
And hit the indestructible cat, who hissed

The zombie ran away
Hid under my porch for a while
It built and rode a subway
But it hopped the turnstile

Meanwhile, aboveground,
I was getting ready
I got Iggy, a rocket launcher
And a lobster named Freddie

We stormed in the subway
To take the next train going out
The vendor gave me a key chain
But he charged me five dollars, the lout

We crowded on the subway
It smelled like peanut butter
That, combined with claustrophobia
Turned me into a nutter

A nutter, by the way
Is British for lunatic
Like Ozzy, or Venom,
Or that Jersey Shore chick

"Hot damn!" I shouted
"I think I'm going crazy.
That guy in the corner
Doesn't even look shady!"

We escaped the subway
Iggy, Freddie, and Me
For some reason we were by the ocean
When a voice rawred with glee

"Steve!" squealed me
"Third person much?" muttered Iggy
Freddie added "OMG!"
"GRAAWRR!" warbled Steve

I climbed on a boat
And threw a rope to the shark
And I fired the rocket launcher
It lit up the dark

I commanded "Fetch!
There's a zombie to catch!"
Steve pirouetted across the sea
In hot pursuit of the hungry zombie

By the time that we docked
We were back where we started
My house, the hide-out,
Of the Nearly Departed

The zombie in question
Was crossing the river
Toward the school, where he'd find
Inevitably, his dinner

To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?

Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray