‘No Pastor (To Ghosts)’ by Evan Lockwood

There are so many different ways to behave
And yet we often behave in just one.
There are so many different types of “depraved”
but the most dangerous is simply just “fun”.
People uphold certain lies that they tell
and will stick with those beliefs until death,
even if it means they are going to hell,
those beliefs will be all they have left.

We make up these excuses for why we all sin;
we make up all these excuses for hate.
The drunk makes up excuses for why he drinks Gin.
Everyone calls these excuses their fate.
Not living by logic or semblance of reason
this modern day age has just now begun.
We use God to explain the change of the seasons,
like primitive beasts who worship the sun.

We think that we’re smart and we’re so very civil,
but this monstrosity we call today
is just the most dastardly, blasphemous evil;
the kind we strive to avoid when we pray.
No one must be praying if this modern day wins.
This whole era will most surely be burned.
I am no saint, no pastor, I’ve committed sins
but of course most of those sins have been learned.

I am not religious, but I fear for our souls
as this society races towards death.
This martyr, this symbol here, has taken death tolls
disguised as freedoms confused with our breath.
There are so many different ways to behave
but we pretend one is better than most.
I think such pretending will lead us to our graves,
which would turn all those pretending to ghosts.

Evan Lockwood is a poet living in Audubon, New Jersey.

This poem is among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition.

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