Zombie Tolkien takes in a movie

The zombie lurched upward, shaking off the dirt of the ages
encrusted on his funeral suit. Off he shuffled down the street
on his merry way to the local movie theatre complex.
He had to wait in line for his ticket. Ever underappreciated
his undead-ness overlooked amongst the fans

They were too busy discussing his books -
his wonderful books - like they were the latest pop-song
tired adjectives, gluing on plastic elf ears, (elven ears!)
His decomposing skin, his rotting smell unnoticed
amongst pimply-faces, unwashed armpits, and anticipating smiles

He reaches out to purchuse a ticket
his arm snaps off, dripping gore on the carpet
the grimy teenages who clutch first editions
shriek delightfully, and take their seats, thinking it all part
of the occasion, after all, Zombies are in, and the colour green

Lo! The movie is starting, the lights dim
popcorn crunches and Arwen Elvenstar speaks.
He watches through eyes that do not see
and listens with ears that hear not. He is horrified, mortified, zombified
what rash Necromancer has decimated his kingdom?

His masterpiece, his life’s work, his magnum opus
glares back at him in technicolour and gaudy costumes
and the ents are made of robotics! And hobbits are silly!
and what’s this CGI? He roars. But all that escapes his throat is
a guttural groan, for his voice box has rotted away

He has no hands left to write beautiful words
no mind left for imagining such grand landscapes
but he will eat the brains of every fan
here in this theatre, till the world admits
his works weren’t meant for such cruel and garish treatment