No, I am not obsessed with flesh-eating zombies. That would be juvenile. It is the chilling metaphor I crave. The poem is titled, Beyond the Seas of Dead.

Whether the wrath of God

or arrogance of man

only the soulless remain to ponder

how the plague began,

If divine fury revealed in everlasting curse

or experimentation gone wrong

which should be worse?

Of this, the empty streets cannot decide

nor the million muted footfalls of the ravenous tide

insight, wisdom or answers provide,

Dark city spires rise black against the day’s waning gray

the rock and iron palaces of the infected

commercial tombs accumulate the dust

 of civilization’s duties neglected,

And I hide amidst broken, useless luxuries and colorful plastic bags,

empty cans and Tommy Hilfiger rags

slinking from the mindless shambling swarm

to find a safe, dry place, if not always warm,

And so yes I am the heroic resistance,

humanity’s last glorious stand

fueled by bleak and selfish persistence

or tempting delusion of salvation at hand,

But there will be no happy ending

no cavalry rescue in a blazing hail of lead

no way of ever defending

against these armies of the dead,

On they wander without purpose or plan

these aimless, carnivorous successors

to the legacy of man,

And though sometimes still I think of you

or conjure the sound of your soft voice

the private lies that comfort me

are no longer a believable choice,

for I have seen no living now

for months and months on end

and there are no further faint hopes to hold,

no messages to send,

And you are not safely hidden somewhere

beyond the seas of dead

but merely another living corpse

with angry blankness in your head,

When this first began flippantly I told myself

I am not beaten

until I am eaten

but I lost long ago to these relentless mockeries of death

and though still I draw breath

I do not live,

And if now they are more pus than flesh

and more fetid rot than pus

you and I were always them

and they are simply us,

And though I hide from these zombie hordes

and am surely now deranged

they have only replaced our more earthly lords

and nothing much has changed,

But to the end I walk through the valley

seeking my daily bread,

no hope of ever defending

against these armies of the dead