write an extremely mouthy and langauge-filled poem called 'How The Zomb's Lost Thier Heads'

Answer 1

How The Zombs Lost Their Heads

In a town where the sun dared not shine,
Where shadows danced and the air turned divine,
The zombs, oh the zombs, with their drippy old grins,
Shambled through alleyways, their chaos begins.

Haphazardly roaming, with decaying delight,
Their fingers all crooked, their clothes ragged and white,
They perfected the art of the moan and the groan,
With gnarly old teeth that were chipped to the bone.

Dear villagers quivered, on rooftops they crammed,
For the zombs, who most certainly, were not well-manned.
With eyes like the depths of old coal mines at night,
And bellies that grumbled for brains: what a fright!

But hark! One bold night, under neon-lit skies,
A plan was concocted—oh what a surprise!
A parade with the zombies, a dance of the dead,
Invited to frolic, but who knew what lay ahead?

The bangers, the mashers, the clinking of cans,
All lured the zombs with their charming, loose plans.
“Come join us!” they beckoned, “Leave your graves for a spell,
We’ve got booze brewed with garlic; it’s virtually swell!”

So, the zombs, in their ignorance, followed with glee,
With no thought in their heads, or, oh, could it be three?
They tumbled through traps, like the fools that they were,
As the villagers chuckled, whispering, “Surely, we’ll stir!”

First the dandy old zomb with a quartz-filled old hat,
Tumbled into a fountain—splash, what a spat!
His head, it popped off, like a cork from a wine,
“Oops!” shouted the crowd, “Oh, isn’t this fine?”

Then came the sweet lady, with curls made of doom,
She slipped on banana peels, went splat with a boom!
And her noggin rolled off, like a globe on a floor,
“Oh, we’re having such fun—more heads to explore!”

And soon, it became a marionette show,
As heads bounced like rubber, putting on quite the glow.
“Oh look! There goes Peter, with his jolly red grin,
And Clara’s got gumdrops stuck under her chin!”

With limbs flailing wildly, and heads in a spree,
What once were just monsters now danced with glee.
Onlookers guffawed, with delight and with mirth,
“Who knew losing your head could bring such new worth?”

And so the night carried on, under moons that would mock,
As zombs without heads learned to dance and to clock.
Their bodies, unbothered, now twirled free as kites,
In a world where the laughter eclipsed all their plights.

So heed now this tale of the whimsical dread,
How the zombs lost their heads, and found joy instead.
For in losing your senses, in folly you’ll find,
A freedom unbounded—leave the past far behind!

Answer 2

add lots of language...

Answer 3

How The Zombs Lost Their Heads

In a town where the sun shied away, a timid recluse,
Where shadows cavorted and dulcet despondence loosed,
The zombs, oh the zombs, with their lopsided smirks,
Shambled through murky alleyways, igniting their jerks.

With an air rife with odor, a scent quite grotesque,
They navigated the night like a wild, festering mess,
Arms akimbo, decay draping their forms like fine silk,
A crumbly concoction of rot and of milk.

Those ghastly creations of mischief, of blight,
Rolled like tumbleweeds through the chill, ghostly night.
Their moans echoed softly, like whispers of dread,
A symphony woven from minds long since dead.

"Oh, heavens above!" the citizens quivered,
As they cowered and nestled, all panic delivered.
With eyes that were pools where nightmares took drift,
These flesh-rending fiends were a veritable gift!

Then one fateful eve, under gates of bright neon,
A scheme took flight, eccentricity leaping upon,
An invitation was sent to these wretched wanderers,
To join in a carnival, be merry, not ponderers.

The saucy raconteurs brewed up buckets of brew,
“Join us, dear zombs! We've got a raucous hullabaloo!
With fervor and flashing, we'll dance on grim graves,
And raise our goblets high, for the lost and enslaved!”

The zombs, in their bliss, so ignorant and spry,
Followed the beat, their hearts—if they had one—awry.
With nary a clue and no sense in their heads,
They gambled their sanity, and so forth they sped.

First, there tumbled Fred, in his dilapidated fedora,
Plummeting headlong into a fountain—a hydra!
His cranium popped off like a champagne cork’s flight—
“Oops!” shouted the crowd, “Oh, isn’t this a sight?”

Next was the sweet miss, with tresses like dust,
Who lost her footing on peels, thrust into a gust,
Her noggin went bouncing like a ball in a spree,
“Oh good heavens! More heads! What wild revelry!”

And soon, it turned merry, like a circus of fright,
As heads bobbed like marbles in the dark of the night.
“Look yonder!” cried Marv, “There’s Old Jim’s crooked chin!
And Clara’s new hairpiece looks just like a sin!”

With limbs lolling wildly and heads in a race,
What once were just horrors now joined in the chase.
Onlookers guffawed, laughter filling their chests,
“Who knew losing your noggin could manifest jest?”

The moonlight bore witness to this mayhem’s lore,
As zombs, sans their headpieces, twirled like never before.
Their bodies now liberated, danced under star-smeared skies,
In a realm where absurdity eclipsed all their sighs.

So bask in the tale of this ludicrous woe,
How the zombs lost their heads but found gusto to show.
For in mischief and madness, serendipity spreads,
Embrace the delightful—we’re all zombs in our heads!