​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

​Following the shadow
even though my instincts
tell me I should not.
The spirit that is beckoning me
is quite alluring.
 
Each step taken to an unseen place,
beyond the mists of the unknown.
The mind excited but conflicted.
Is the ghost that I am following
leading myself to a to a pure garden of light
or through a path of red burning coals?
 
The hopes for a calm walk.
There are too many scars of the past.
The ghost that leads never give a hint.
A time to breathe and heal is needed.
 
Curiosity is peaked by the leader.
The pathway that I have been
led to previously was murky.
The expectation is skin tingling.
The unknown feels this of me.
 
The Ghost of the Unknown
ha shadows that are addictive.
No signs to what are beyond them.
The only way to know or feel
is to move beyond them and embrace.
 
December 29, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020  

​Silently, I pray each and every night
to the stars lighting up the dark sky
that I will never see or feel your shadow,
hear you incoming soft steps.
You may be the enemy
however you are a human being.
 
My job is to guard the sleeping soldiers,
protect them so they wake in the morning.
My troop is relying on me for this
and I will ensure this does happen.
 
As you creep around our camp,
trying to deceive me,
I think you must have a family
that you would like to embrace again.
It is the same in our tired barracks.
The troops have wives and children
they wish to see and laugh with.
My eyes will find your shadow
and guarantee they will see their family.
 
Sadly, I have taken life,
as I assume, my night crawler,
that you have too.
We both have a duty.
It is not personal.
 
I have a duty that takes courage,
feeling that you have the same.
You are a person that is forced to be here.
Remember as you sneak, so am I.
I am the Sentinel
that will not let you through.
 
December 1, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020

​Though no one saw me,
I was there through every moment.
 
The blaze that took over London
in the mid seventeenth century.
Three days of an inferno,
taking way homes and lives,
leaving a burnt path of embers.
I was there as the wind
that carried the flame
from the King's Baker.
Not one felt myself
as the blower of the fire.
 
When the shot was fired,
killing Franz Ferdinand
causing England
to declare was on Germany
the bullet was guided
for the world conflict,
the first great war,
over four years,
piles of bodies, brothers and sisters,
by my invisible hand.
 
That peaceful day in 1945
in the small place of Hiroshima,
destroyed by the first big bomb.
Leaving radiation intertwined
with the breathing air
causing melting heat
that was felt for decades after.
I was the unseen creator
of the ultimate destroyer.
 
People believe it is all random
twisted fates of destruction.
I am never seen
by the scared eyes.
Never in the shadows.
My faces are in plain view
This Dark Figure is always missed.
 
November 24, 2020
©Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020