Showing posts with label Zombies? Really? by James Bezerra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zombies? Really? by James Bezerra. Show all posts

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Bloody.


The entryway of my apartment building has a glass security door and apparently one of the guys who lives in my complex is a photographer and he is taking Halloween pictures right now and that means that a college girl in a white dress - covered in “blood” -  is pressing herself zombie-style against that security door.  

I’m sure the pictures will be interesting, but it made it awkward for me to go check my mail.

I do love though being around all of that. LA has an artist commune called The Brewery (it is an old PBR brewery) and I have been there and as much as I was bothered by the sad quality of most of the “art” that I saw there, I still enjoy knowing that such a community exists.

This is a big part of why I am considering getting the hell out of LA in the next year or so. There is unequivocally culture in LA, but it is hard to find, hard to get to, and hard to be accepted into.

Perhaps it is like that everywhere, but I have to hope not. If a guy can shoot a horror show in my vestibule, does that mean that I’m living in the right place? Or that all that guy needed was a blood-covered model and a vestibule? Which he can find just about anywhere?

That may be the constant cosmic question of LA. Do I need to be here? or Do I only think I need to be here?

I have no answer for that.

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Sunday, May 9, 2010

Poem #1.

Zombies? Really?
By James Bezerra


We seem to be
more afraid of zombies now
than Russians
with A-bombs.

Am I the only one
who
still fears the
killer robot apocalypse?

The invading Martian apocalypse?
The apocalypse of sterility? Of Republicanism?
Of apathy?
Or of Nuclear Winter?

Or – you know –
the actual Apocalypse?
When Jesus comes back, angry.
I think that’s what’s supposed to happen, anyway.


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