​Finally going home.
It has been a long year,
leaving a foreign land
where I saw things
that I never
thought I would.
 
Hoped I would not
get scarred like the others.
The ones that were there
before my tour arrived.
I heard their crying for home,
moaning and fighting
in the nightmares
the night shared.
 
That was a life
I became afraid of
under the sky of Afghanistan.
 
I went over as support
for the new foreign government
providing arms for humanitarian
relief and operations.
Seemed like I would be away
from the fighting and killing.
 
The sights are now
playing in my mind
when I close my eyes.
 
Saw remains of families
taken away by the violence.
Mother’s holding onto
their husbands after death.
Crying children when
homes were bombed away.
 
Destruction by us
or the Taliban,
I will never know.
The memories are chaotic
under fire.
 
Carried friends back to camp
not knowing if they
would live or die.
Enemy or friendly fire,
who knew in the confusion.
More than once
I thought I took the shot.
 
Breathing deep, almost home
carrying invisible baggage.
I have no one to talk to
about the shakes
or the substances
I started using to forget
Afghanistan.
 
June 16, 2021
@Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021

​Angry Sea
 
The waves of the sea
are angry at us all
for what our souls have become.
 
Bombs are burning the sister sky.
Families ding as they land
while we watch the horror
without blinking an eye
or saving a soul.
 
The sea watches us,
becomes violent
at every injustice we perform,
crashing to land.
Its waters taking
what we do not appreciate.
 
A plague is spreading
to all corners of the earth.
Searching for a cure
while citizens are not
protecting others.
Spreading a death sentence.
 
Waves crashing into the coast
taking people away
with each strike
to even the score.
The sea is full of rage.
 
Tsunamis are taking
communities away,
washing homes to sea.
Revenge waves.
 
Seas are red
from watching the damage
that we are doing.
Harming each other intentionally.
Our greed has taken hold.
Seas are rising,
fists drawn
and it is our fault.
 
May 19, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021

​The drums are beating
with sadness, sorrow now.
Crying with the stolen souls
of the innocent, lost children.
 
Buried so long ago,
never returned home
from the abuse
provided from captive walls.
 
Healing circles chanting
for the children’s spirit.
Mourning the loss,
the children who were
never given a chance.
 
Beautiful children
taken from their elders,
tortured and abused
to forget who they were
until they were murdered,
placed in a grave, forgotten
by the government and the church
who put them in the unmarked dirt.
Died being forced to assimilate.
 
Little spirits rise in piece
to be remembered,
given to the ancestors
to share in the healing
drumming around the fires,
tears lined over their hearts,
preying for the Lost Children.
 
June 1, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021

​Thomas stares out his window,
sitting at the kitchen table,
bills piled up beside his resumes.
Five months without work
aside from low paying odd jobs
from working on yards to food delivery.
Frustration lines his forehead.
Determined to stay constant,
some days are better than others
however it is mentally wearing.
Thomas sighs trying to believe
that this unpredictable time shall pass.
 
The evening comes with a glass of wine
for Margaret, alone in her living room,
attempting to adjust to a new life
after twenty-seven years of the same one.
Without a true explanation her partner left
leaving so many questions behind.
Where to start over?
What does the future hold?
Starting over bring fear.
With each sip, thoughts get stronger
holding onto the fact
that this time shall pass.
 
Stacy closes the door of her room
trying to digest another horrid school day.
Others hurling insults for no reason,
students that used to be friends
causing tears and confusing thoughts.
Sometimes Stacy wonders
if the abuse is worth going through,
determined she will get
past the next two years.
Stacy knows a new chapter will be soon.
This present time shall pass.
 
March 17, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2021

​So many marching,
looking for a place of acceptance
as they do not know who they are
or what direction they wish to go.
All they need is a path
set out before them to follow.
They do not see who is guiding them.
 
Those seeking spiritual enlightenment
took their journey to a place called Georgetown
to search for the teachings of Jim Jones
who taught them apostolic socialism.
As the people gathered in mass
reports came to others about abuses
by the temple members.
Life was not what the followers expected,
no enlightenment but punishments.
Children taken away, rarely seeing parents.
Monies taken to run the temple.
Under scrutiny of stress and outsiders
there were cyanide poisonings to all.
On November 18, 1978, Jonestown was dead.
Not one saw the guiding hand to the light.
 
In Axtell, Texas, many gathered,
waiting for an apocalypse
with the second coming
against the armed armies of Babylon.
Firearms and soldiers lined the compound
protecting the disciples inside the barrier
following the leader of the Branch Davidians.
Families waited inside while the law was outside
until the fiery end for all being led.
Flames taking lives in the chaotic compound.
Everyone looking down, praying,
not seeing who lit the match.
 
Students gather in a classroom
hoping to learn about multi-level marketing,
course upon course with slow steps
to get ahead within the organization.
Enthralled by personal and professional seminars
that were to grow the students.
Being hypnotized to follow, no question.
Ignoring the secret society
the students were buying into
until they were poor and sold.
Branded by the leader with his initials.
The pain never healed.
No one saw who burned the brand.
 
So many with empty thoughts
searching for a place to go
and follow the leader.
Blind, without question
only to feel impure.
Once they realize the path
that was taken to the current place.
Too late in realizing the truth,
questioning how they got there.
Doors opened by the unseen,
the Dark Figure that guided
down the sacrificing path.
 
April 7, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2021

​Only you can feel your struggle
that your mind sees
or thinks each day.
The loneliness that comes
with the unspoken words.
 
Promise others are feeling
the emotional pain also.
Different triggers, same feelings.
 
Never believe that your words
and thoughts and feelings
are the the utmost of importance.
They are.
 
Support is always out there
when it feels like all is lost.
Reach out.
 
You will be held up.
Outreached hands of support
are always there.
 
March 5, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021

​We are walking with shackles
on our exposed dreams of this world.
There can be a time when we can be free.
 
There will be a time
when we come out our caves
just to hold each other freely
regardless of looking eyes.
 
When we come to an understanding
that with all our differences
we are the same as human beings.
All we have to do is listen and embrace.
 
When a young man can play
in a park with whoever they wish.
When a little lady can keep
her faith and innocence
without adult corruption.
 
When no one dies
due to race or religion
or living in fear
of who we are,
then the world will be would be free.
 
January 4, 2021
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2021

​As each new day rises
the air fills with new stress
of every person’s uncertainty,
not knowing what times will bring.
 
The clouds are a little grey
with shades of clearing
bringing a hint of better times.
 
People are locked away,
prisoners in their own home
living in fear of the unknown.
 
Strangers appearing out of the dark
with hands out to care for one another,
strength given with no touch
providing a glimpse of better times.
 
Almost every breathe is hard
in these times of the terrifying,
people do not know where to move.
 
The good in people will manifest,
trust in the human nature of the kind.
The path will lead to better times.
 
January 26, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021

​I called him R. J. from the moment he was born.
It was short for Robert Joseph.
Named in memory of his mother’s father.
 
As a child, R. J. had an eye for adventure.
Once you heard his giggle
You knew R. J. was in a place that he should not be.
The clean up was never-ending.
 
R. J. did not stay as outgoing with age.
Sometime during his teenage years
he went from outgoing to extremely private.
Could never pinpoint the change.
All I can say is it happened
half way into his high school years.
 
R. J. moved in with a lovely lady
shortly after graduation.
We were so happy and proud of them both.
Six years together and all we saw was bliss.
It was not until it ended
that a problem came to light.
R. J. had to move back in to regroup.
The drinking was noticed,
the drugs were not.
 
Late nights or disappearing for days
could not be ignored by his mother or I.
R. J. would come home with new bruises,
cuts all over his face.
That is really when I got involved.
 
Took R. J. to a place to dry out
and talk for a week, just him and I.
That was when I found out about the drugs.
R. J. had been taking since middle school.
He said it started as an experiment that grew.
The booze part was because that was all
he could taste from working with chemicals.
Even when he was spitting blood
R. J. did not see a problem.
 
I thought it was a great detox week.
So many conversations that brought us closer.
Saw the light at getting my son back.
 
Slowly we gave him earned trust.
He was showing up to work and home.
R. J. gained weight, a healthy weight.
 
The call came in around six or seven.
I can tell you it was a Tuesday.
The sky was bright with the sun setting.
 
I called him R. J., short of Robert Joseph.
He was my only son,
Now he was gone.
 
January 18, 2021
©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021