My Beloved Family (Halloween Poem)

DAY 12 of my 13 Halloween themed poems! We're almost there, kiddies. One more sleep until "All Hallows Eve", when we scoff ourselves of sweets during the one night where the lines between living world, and the dead world are blurred. Its going to be ever so fun.
And to celebrate, here's another poem. Its called "My Beloved Family", where a family man prepares dinner after a horrific event has plagued the world. Will it go well? Keep reading to find out.

To keep the good times rolling, howabout checking back to previous Halloween poems by clicking the links; DAY 1, DAY 2, DAY 3, DAY 4, DAY 5, DAY 6, DAY 7, DAY, 8, DAY 9, DAY 10 and DAY 11.

Enjoy!

MY BELOVED FAMILY

My alarm goes at 7 o' clock,

and I feel an immense shock.

I can't believe I'm an hour late, 

there's so much to do, it just can't wait.

I rise and rush to the bathroom,

washing my face of the nightly gloom.

Preparing myself to face the day,

I sure hope it goes my way.

 All dressed and bolting down the stairs,

the telephone rings but who cares?

Right now, I don't have the time,

a dinner must be made, utterly sublime.

Through the kitchen, and out the back door,

I find my wife, whom I adore,

standing in our garden out back.

Please not today, cut me some slack.

I can't be having any of her episodes,

I don't wish to go down that road.

I need her to act and stay normal,

especially with our guests dressing so formal.

I gently usher her inside,

lock the house, and go for a ride.

Beating the traffic to head to the store,

to shop for food, drink, fresh meat galore.

Everything looks clean, unlike last I was here.

The place was ramshacked, people in fear.

Of course, now, everything is as it was,

I once asked an army man "why",

he just said, rather curtly, "because".

Checking the list, and raiding the aisle,

I couldn't help but let out a smile.

Me, and Ruth had planned this forever.

Now, after so long, it finally came together.

I drive home as quick as a flash,

with chickens to stew, and potatoes to mash.

Once more, the telephone rings.

I wonder what news this will bring?

Why, its my guests Mr and Mrs Kirby.

They say they'll be late, arriving about two thirty.

Oh, what joy. What excellent news.

This gives me more time, no need to blow a fuse.

With that in mind,

I head upstairs, and what do I find?

My son, daughter and wife

not dressed or ready; damn my life!

Not meaning to be rude,

I excuse myself to tend to the food.

Not before I ask them to change,

then I fix the dinner of assorted range.

Hours pass by, and I need a rest.

The table is laid for our distinguished guests.

I hear no movement above my head,

please say they're out of bed.

I find a comfortable place to sit,

and wonder how would Ruth do it.

I close my eyes, and I'm out for the count.

Opening up to an escalating fear that mounts.

A wreckage of cars, and buildings pass.

Shuffling bodies grow in mass.

Innocents hurry with such urgency,

as police declare a state of emergency.

Me and my family stand alone,

as friends and neighbours pathetically moan.

My wife is pulled right out of my hand,

and I watch as she's taken by a cannibal band.

Awakening with a start,

I feel the pounding of my heart,

and before I have a chance to react,

I see a child wishing to distract.

Its my daughter, standing in front of me,

and with arms stretched forth I can plainly see,

she hasn't at all changed from her nightwear.

Why must I be living this nightmare.

No time for this, no point to argue.

Our wondrous dinner is almost due.

I make some last minute preparations,

organising the layout with simple decorations.

It smells so good, it feels me with glee.

No doubt, I followed Ruth's recipe to a tee.

Reese and Rachel will be so thrilled.

With this sumptuous meal, I'll feel fulfilled.

As I said, this has been ages in the making.

Its very important to this new age waking,

with everything our families have been through,

its the least we can do.

As the afternoon dawns, with the table set.

Last minute jitters make me sweat.

I arrange the family into their place,

and its my boy who goes for my face.

I step back, and give him a frown.

Letting him know I won't lay down.

His bad behaviour has increased in weeks.

I tell him to settle down, so we don't appear as freaks.

Losing his mother was absolutely grim.

Its been heard for us all, but especially him.

Adjusting to a step parent is equally tough,

I just wished he'd make the effort to stop being so rough.

I found Janine in the streets, when all was calm.

She followed me back home without alarm.

I can honestly say, under the bright lights,

when our eyes locked, it was love at first sight.

Though she does have her moments,

which has left me emotionally spent,

but what couple doesn't have their hardships.

When you've been though enough, your marriage has a stronger grip.

Little Mandy opened up, practically spilling her guts,

but my boy stayed in his room, his own private hut.

I'm hoping tonight we'll finally bond,

coming closer as a unit, and beyond.

A thundering at the door; knock, knock, knock.

Causing my system to rock.

The day I've waited for is finally here,

time to make a good impression, for Ruth, my lost dear.

Inviting the Kirby's in,

we give pleasantries and widen our grins,

and just as things were starting well,

a blood curdling scream unleashes all hell.

A few choice words, completely obscene,

are all directed at my new wife, Janine,

and in the coming madness I see Reese,

rushing to the phone to call the police.

I stop him, of course, by asking "what for"?

We haven't even started, and there's so much more.

Mr. Kirby asks "Dammit, man! Can't you see?

Your entire family are zombies!"

"Their eyes are pale, and skin gangrene,

any sensible person will know what I mean.

That horrid smell, the absence of fresh,

they don't want sprouts, they want human flesh!"

"I know life was hard when you lost Ruth,

but I didn't know your mind had gone aloof.

End it all now, make them history.

Their souls will want you to end their misery"

The words he says I can't believe.

I ask them at once to leave,

but his spiel is on such a run,

he doesn't notice me pull out my gun.

I aim it directly at his skull,

I keep it with me because you can't be too careful.

Rachel begs, and pleads for his life,

not realising the advancement of my wife.

Ever since her tortuous fasting,

Janine's appetite has grown, long lasting,

and taking a chunk from Rachel's neck,

its clear this dinner has been a wreck.

Everything after that was a blur.

Somehow, Reese took a bullet, the good sir.

He must've fallen, buckling his knees,

thwarted and unable to flee.

The floor was smeared with the Kirby's brain matter,

accompanied by a severe dose of blood splatter.

Rummaging within for a good feel,

my kin help themselves to a juicy meal.

Its not the kind I would've thought,

but them's the breaks that life wroughts.

  At least now my clan seems happy,

as they tuck into Mr. and Mrs Kirby.

And that's all I really need,

for my family to be glad each time they feed,

and as I devour into this mighty chicken wing

I know, in my heart, I've done a good thing.

A family man needs to be a protector,

in a world against the troublesome infector,

of paranoia and dispute,

to defend is my absolute.

Mr. Kirby acted poorly,

now he suffers for it, surely.

Just like the others I invited,

they had that same stupid speech recited.

While they see vicious monsters,

reveling in the slaughter,

I answer back angrily,

"they're not monsters, they're my beloved family!"

They always try to tear us apart,

like its some forgotten art.

The act is a blatant insult,

like our lives aren't already difficult.

Leave us alone, all of you.

If you can't accept us, then we're through.

I can't take this any longer.

Please excuse me, my family hunger.