Walking Among the Dead by Roger Crique

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By Roger Crique (Age: 59)
Copyright 11-04-2005

Inspired after a conversation with a dear friend and mentor, J.R. Royal. Who do you walk with?
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It strikes me funny
All the people I see during my daily endeavors
Outside, they pass my by
aloof and oblivious to my stare
for they do not see me

they’re always moving,
A wave of endless corpses
Strap hanging, staring out the darkened windows
Inside the moving subway

Up and down the elevators,
looking at the ceiling
as they press their designated floor
A forced smile, no direct contact
People lost in the shine of their shoes
Where do they come from?

For tomorrow I’ll never see them again
A fleeing memory of sorts
Obscure in the etching of my mind
A mere reflection in a sunny day
A daunting shadow in the dead of night

I see them coming straight toward me
I must change directions before the impact
Their faces contorted, in useless monologue
At the end of their leash a dog, barking at my feet

A wagging tail makes me wonder
How many souls are hungry now?
Endless sniffles at a hydrant
A doggie bag scooping up the matter
A dumb and mute pulling its weight and master

Million dollar pillars that smell of piss
Total strangers are comfortable
As they recognize their pooches
Canine wizardry has done its magic
As the walking dead detain

Walking among the dead
Desperate souls trying to finish what they started
Short in rhyme and reasons
Full of vainness and coldness
Only to be pleased by a wagging tail!

Comments on this Article/Poem:
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         11-15-2005     Sage Bruce

I do this..I zone out because I don’t want to see all the people around me. I only want to be with my self. I do my best thinking that way. I think of poems as I walk to and from and throughout my school. I don’t really want to pay attention because I’ll se what they’re saying and I’ll know why they’re laughing.I try to blend in and push away. I think that people want to be blinded untill they’re prepared to see.
Great poem though! ^^
         11-07-2005     Deborah Thomas

Sad, isn’t it? I sometimes have to break out of the silhouettes and make some kind of statement.. attempt some sort of conversation.. usually accompanied by a nervous laugh or a witty remark, depending on how brave I feel today.
It either goes well and I have venue for a lighthearted banter, or I get looked upon as though strange and overstepping my boundary.
Either way, I know I have done my part in trying to feel alive!
The animal aspect, I guess, can be an opening for conversation, or a sign that they are content to live in a world of their own..
My cats complete my little world inside my garden, while secretly hoping to be thought of as ‘the cat lady’ I remember from my own childhood. Or to be remembered as I remember a certain vine growing on the fence across the street from my home, as in my story ‘The Passion Vine’..A way, any way, to be thought of at all? To be among the ‘living’? I so dread being among those ‘dead’, the ‘shadows’ that you pass in the streets, Roger. I want to walk among the ‘living’!!
This has many layers, Roger, and brought feelings up that we tend to just accept and keep going… and questions.. what is it with the dogs? The same as with my cats.. To be noticed? Alive? You’ve done your job here.
Debbie
         11-05-2005     David Pekrul

I see two things here; firstly, people lost in the hustle and bustle of the city, isolated from one another as daily pressures and activities take their toll; secondly, the attachment of humans to their pets, while ignoring all other people around them. It seems we have come to love our pets more than we love our children (a rather sad state of affairs.)
I have never been a city kid, although I worked in a large city for the last 14 years (if you can call a million people large), but I live in a small town (now getting too large for me at 15 thousand people). To walk the streets and say ‘Hi’ to everyone who passes, and recognize so many in the local coffee shop, really is something special.
         11-05-2005     Paul Gardner
         11-05-2005     Brian Dickenson

A wonderful description of life in any big city.
The blank stare, the avoidance of eye contact. The invisibility of the poor and hungry.
Yes take these same zombies into a rural setting and they greet you with a cheerful hello.
A strange world indeed.
         11-04-2005     Anthony Lane Stahlhut

They move along in lines. Each day the same thing with little variance. A routine that doesn’t change much becomes distracted by a friendly request for some attention. It’s great to feel loved and a pet can be a great source of that! Your poem took me down to the streets of new York and the hustle bustle of the work week. Great job, Anthony