I am a drifting one,
flying through the sky, a spirit, invisible to the naked eye. The lone tank man, the one who stood in courage, blocking tanks in Tiananmen Square, full of courage and strength. This drifting one held his hand, giving unconditional support. On that fateful bus of change in the city of Montgomery, one lady of colour not moving, full of strength and belief. This drifting one was there providing a hand. In Peru, when the plane crashed, a brave seventeen-year-old walked out of the Amazon swollen, infected but alive. This drifting one guided her downstream to the opening of civilization. I am the drifting one, flying through the air of history, a spirit, invisible to the naked eye. August 4, 2022 ©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2022
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Dark Figure V
You do not think I can feel you. The Dark Figure praying down on my spirit. I sense you always. As the Dark Figure you are the quiet cause of many tragedies and death all through the mixed pages of history. The Queens of Fate as well as you love the smell of chaos and fresh, running blood. As I sit here, see shadows of all of you. You are impatiently waiting for my soul’s turn. Smile to self at the thought. Many times, you and your servants have tried to silence my heart. The muscles and bones have always healed. You keep striking however, I have a divine purpose that you are selfishly to blind to see and I am protected silently. Dark Figure and the Queens of Fate keep coming with your assault. Until my path is completed my time with you will not come. November 18, 2021 ©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021 People around here call them Trash Pandas.
Visitors that come in the silence of the night so, no one can hear or see them. Searching our garbage for food. See the remains of the search every Wednesday morning. They try so hard to clean up however, it is impossible. My broom picks up the remains. I was up late one Tuesday night when I heard the cans being shuffled, searched through. Quietly, I looked out the window. Surprised by what I saw. Always assumed it was animals that made the community mess but it was not. In the dark, there was a shadow of two. It looked like an adult and a child trying to be quiet, invisible as they went through the cans. I watched however did not say a word. After seeing this I started making too much food for one person to have on Tuesdays. Made sure it was in a bag on top of the curbside trash can so, it could be easily fond. I do not care what brought these two to our nighttime neighbourhood. That was not my business. Never approached them either so, I did not scare them and they could keep a bit of dignity. Everyone needs food. I have heard neighbours grumble, complaining every Wednesday about the animalistic Trash Pandas with a snarl on their faces. Makes a person think to themselves what would happen if they ever became Trash Pandas themselves how would they feel? October 20, 2021 Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021 I feel you slithering around me
as I lay here, shaking, broken. You only come around during these times. When it is believed I am at my weakest. You and your other demons have been hoping for this moment. I should have expected you when the snap occurred and my bones became weak. The scream must have been your signal to try what you and your kind have attempted so many times before. Lessons should have been learned each time you believe I am broken. I am gathering strength to stand against the demons you bring. One day you will learn I am not broken. September 25, 2021 @Andrew Scott - Just a Maritime Boy 2021 It is a little after midnight, driving along a dark highway. There is only me out here, listening to music breaks the quietness. The only conversation, a silent one with myself. The best time to think, find solid perspective. At the age I am living, taking and sorting is a must. Trying to figure out what I am driving from or to. I am no longer that young kid that gave my father fear in what I was to become. He knows that now as I take care of him. Thoughts of how blessed I am, surrounded by great people in my journey even the quiet ones. My mortality always creeps in and then put away as it leads to frightening thoughts. The mind remembers something my mother told me many years ago as I pull into my home. No matter what I would always be alright. September 14, 2021 ©Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021 That old barn,
Ready to fall any day now, Wooden walls giving away To the season’s weather, Paint is frayed around the windows. May special occasions Hosted in that old barn. When it was first built The horses took shelter In its comfortable stalls After a hard days work Lost track of how many Foals were given to us there. The celebratory talks After a successful hay season The sweat that went Into each hot day Bales upon bales The cold brinks With exhausted neighbours. As new barns were built This old barn Guarded the tractors And other farming equipment Saving them from The elements of the seasons. So many memories With each weathered board That falls to the ground Smile when moments When they pop into my mind Life shared with that old barn. August 30, 2021 © Andrew Scot - Just A Maritime Boy 2021 Storm clouds are rolling
all around, bringing humid heat to the hot days of July. Thunder where all you saw blue. Fear in the emotions in every snap. You can smell the heavy, frightened air. Searing flames of destruction tear apart the village of Lytton. Fires burning buildings, homes. People running to escape, young adults watching parents burn. No one knows for sure what may have caused the melt in one of those hot days in July. In an industrial town in Bangladesh a warehouse is used as a captive deathtrap. Fifty-two mothers, fathers, daughters and sons burned, trapped inside with no way out. No exits from the heated walls. The owner lit the match that burned the lives away in one of those hot days in July. Cars flying through the air as the floods form in Eastern China. Raging rapids covering roads, violence screaming from river waters. People and houses tossed aside. Twisters clearing an unforgivable path. Destruction that must feast during these hot days in July. The heat of July days is taking over, people are acting murderous, senses of the earth scrambled. Terror in unexpected places harvesting in the hot days of July. July 27, 2021 @Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021 Watching the heavy rains
outside my stained window, realize the sky is not the only one with sadness. My own heart is crying tonight, tears from discovering my elders from yesteryear, that always preached the right thing, have let all of us down. Have always been told how good we are as humans, taking care of one another, holding hands, protecting all. Tonight, my body shakes in grief. The words were all lies. Mind is full of confusion, learning how sinister and, at times, still are through the denial f wrongdoing. Saddens my soul, the elders preaching how they and we are good. All along they knew where the bodies of the young were buried while pleading innocence. Everything, everyone I have believed. I am now questioning this night what is the truth, what is a lie? All of it heavy on the heart that cannot stop crying tonight. July 10, 2021 @Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2021 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 |
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