Kurtis Gefrom


October 2015


The streets are filled with walkers.

All through the streets they roam. 

To stumble and slide in heards 

Is all that they know.

They are slow to move.

They grumble with a slur of sounds.

They reek with a potent stench,

Some of their innards fall in mounds.

The thirst for more keeps them alive.

While their intellect begins to fade.

They’re not yet dead, but will feel like it.

The next morning, as the walkers wake.

They will exclaim, “never again,”

But they will walk the next weekend.


Friends & Adventure

Recently I have stepped back and watched

When the people form to my life.

Those I call friends want to go with

Me to jump off the next cool cliff.

I am a blessed man to turn around 

To find a friendly hand wanting to be pulled

Wherever I choose. For what I do,

They will follow. What I lose they will too.

I used to think life was defined by adventure,

But once again I am proven wrong.

It seems to be defined by how many bodies

Pack my backseat as we all sing along.

Roads were meant to be driven on,

Cars weren’t meant to be empty. 

See roads. Fill your car. Live a life of plenty.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: