Given the week that it is, I decided to bring this poem back from the dead…..
Thom Yorke takes a walk on Halloween Night
The dead move slowly
through the graveyard,
they are few at first
but as they pass
each row of headstones
grey fists punch
through mounds of earth
in a manic salute
and the throng grows
and the throng grows
and the night howls
and the fog curls
and a thin cloud
bisects the moon
and at the edge
of the graveyard
is an old well
and at the bottom
of that well
is a little boy
and that little boy
is crying for help
and that little boy
is Thom Yorke.
Taking part in Open Link Night over at dverse !
Stopdraggingthepanda 
And they shall rise again. But not out of the well.
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Interesting poem. I like the repetition
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Thank you!
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Chilling, to say the least. Thank you for sharing with us!
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And thank you!
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I think I started listening to Radiohead when the Bend was released… I think that Thom York can drive those critters away with his voice.
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Ha! Good point, Bjorn!
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Wow Jim, what a most surreal journey to Radiohead — like a trippy dream, or flashback. Excellent amount of eerie, apropos to the season.
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Hey Rob, I was listening to Radiohead and I saw this image in my head of zombies moving through a graveyard! The rest just followed! 🙂
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I don’t know much about Radiohead, but I liked the flow and vibe of this, Obviously Thom Yorke needs to pay more attention to where he is walking.
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Good advice Glenn!
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Oh gosh this is chilling to the bone!
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Thanks Sanaa!
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I like the thin cloud bisecting the moon.
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Thanks Frank, my favourite line!
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