D’Lanie says everyone has an inner dork, but I think mine is an outtie. Here’s the full review, (more or less) in Iambic Pentameter:
A plague o’ cannibals and ne’er dies,
A genre most unsuited, for dost not,
A pair o’ star-crossed lovers take their life?
Two breaths tender, need not like a corpse rot.
No. It seems most fit a romance abreast,
The beastly kindred o’ gore and slaughter,
Sate the effrontery critic’s unrest,
As the embrace o’ mother and daughter.
Colonel Reynolds, at the army’s behest,
Studies cadaver reanimation,
Colonel Sinclair arrives, observes the test,
A failure, and she locks down the station.
Curt and Julie lay naked, entangled,
A love sung so pure the Furies doth weep!
In a rush they climb into clothes mangled,
As the colonel slams the door of his jeep.
“I’ve been re-assigned, we leave one week’s time,
Gather your belongings and start packing.”
“I shalln’t leave with thee, father,” Curt replies,
“I’ve mine own life, friends, also their backing.”
Curt races to Julie, hope in his eyes,
“My love, we are free as the punchdrunk wind!”
“Didst thou truthfully tell his father right?
Let’s run away before wisdom rescind!”
The chariot races, reckless and free,
Their spirits soar high, but lust higher still,
They lose control and fly into a tree,
He holds her dying, alone on the hill.
Finality in death as cold consumes,
Bugs salivate o’er decay’s bounty,
But all’s rendered naught with Trioxin fumes,
Restorer of life’s rhythm and beauty.
Julie lives once more!
Ne’er a man find fault, fighting Death o’er love!
Wouldst thou not struggle with well matched earnest?
Perchance to rescue thine heart from Black’st glove?
To once more know cradling o’ warm breast?
T’was a delightful play, my heart rejoices,
Ne’er a film captures such innocent charm,
Splendorous zombies and heartfelt voices,
Amidst ghastly ghouls inflicting harm.