All We Have- A Love Poem

There's a terror in the streets,

where zombies stumble, need to eat,

and to survive is quite a feat-

I won't let them hurt you.

Hand in hand we'll stay alive.

We'll pass each test, we'll survive.

And in the end through will and drive-

I will save you.

And nothing can stop us, not the dead and not fate.

Nothing can kill us, for we will escape,

the destiny that we refuse to placate,

for we're better than good, we are the great

who will find a cure to alleviate

this disease that raises the dead.

And I'll fight for you live for you, cry with you, lie with you,

but heaven forbid that I die for you

for then I'd rise to hunt for you,

and so I'd rather lie to you,

and have you die first.

I won't let you lose me, I'm desperate, I'm scared.

We're being hunted, God let us be spared.

And though we're in danger, as well as we have fared,

I'm afraid I'm beginning to no longer care.

You use me, abuse me, destroy me, confuse me.

You beat me, refuse me,

and I know that you need me,

but God if I could leave thee,

in good conscious, believe me,

I would.

But I can't, so we're here, alive and intact.

Our hearts keep on beating, we're on the right track.

And as much as you hurt me, my love bounces back,

But my mind is beginning, beginning to snap.

I love you, I hate you. I need you, placate you.

But I can't escape you except in my mind.

So easy to leave you, look after but I,

But you need to keep company of me and my mind.

So until the end-

you will survive.

I will survive.

We will survive.

For survival is all we have.

A Lonely God

I would like to say that this piece is not aimed at anyone, and is not meant to offend. This is a non-fiction piece that I wrote to help me work through some issues about my own religion. Thank you for reading.

The sky is bright, white clouds traversing lazily over a clear impenetrable blue. Below it lays a darker blue, ripping where wind found purchase on its reflective surface. I stand on a large protruding rock, watching the sky and watching the sea- and thinking. Thinking that, if there is a god (of which I'm not saying there is), that would be where he lay, along that thin line of horizon where the two intensities of blue meet.

I've never questioned my belief in God, or rather, the lack thereof, letting the question slip through my mind should it arise, and certainly now, at the age of 18, it is no time to start. But tragedies and horrors and living nightmares have arisen and are far out of my control. I have nowhere to turn, no one to listen, and nobody who will understand.

But all that is superfluous, as I sit and watch that one thin line, lonely, out on the sea.

I feel a serene, deep-seeded connection with the sea, and the sky, and the rock beneath my feet; a wholeness borne of passivity and observance. I feel complete.

And in that moment, I realize that if there is such a god, if he (or she) does exist on that horizon, how lonely he must be, with all his creations running and scurrying about, attempting to worship him and follow his teachings. No god wrote the Bible, just a man: a man who forgot to teach that the serene contentment that I feel now is the closest way to be to any higher being. Our prayers don't reach any god, those precious mumblings and wishes are heard by no one, leaving the wish up to chance and probability, and sometimes one’s own hands. But never a god, never that power that lies on the horizon. Never that lonely consciousness on the sea.

I am not an atheist. Nor am I an agnostic, or a Christian, Catholic, or Jew, or any organized religion. I don't believe in a god, but I believe in that powerful lonely consciousness on that horizon, a friend, an equal. I believe in the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the Earth, and the wind as it blows through the trees, and the sky and the clouds, and that thin horizon off in the distance where the sky meets the Earth and all is calm.

And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there is a god. Maybe I should believe. But what I refuse is the fussing, and the praying, and the Bible, and the prophets, and the mindless ridiculous mulling about that humanity has developed in hopes to please some higher power but does jack squat.

And so I sit, watching the sky, and the sea, and the tide rolling in, and think- how lonely gods must be, worshiped and idoled, without a friend, without an equal, sitting alone on the single line, far off in the distance.