Fenced In (Poverty Row)
I have been here in this part of town
since the day I started to have memories.
I do not remember the day it was,
just the picture and words in my head.
Not too much has changed here
in this weathered, rusted trailer town.
The trees have earned new branches,
new dust is covering the old,
but the road all around is still not paved
and the homes are rotting with patched age.
For most of us, these are our first homes,
handed from father to son.
None of us have the money to buy new.
The ones that did are no longer here,
not sure where they went
because those few never came back.
Money is a little sparse here,
our clothes may be age stained
but you work with what you have.
Here we have each other.
In many ways we are richer than most.
The city started building around us,
fixing streets, new flower beds,
planting new grass all over
without ever entering our little park.
We just figured they were too scared
to cross the border like we were a disease,
inflicted by a murder here over forty years back
by a couple of drunkards that did not belong.
The brush of guilt has been here since
painting all of us on Poverty Row.
What they did so was place fences
all around us to disguise the dirt
and try to make it look good from the outside
so long as no one got curious and looked over.
That was all they did, cage us in.
Not knowing or realizing
that true beauty cannot be built.
We have it here in the rusted tin
that everyone outside just fenced in
to add to our wealth.
June 24, 2013
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2013
Guilty in Hammertown
The dark, tortured cloud
has been hanging over us for lot decades
never taking away the evil feeling
that the midnight stars and their beauty
will never grace our eyes ever again
Invisible footsteps are heard by naive strangers
the same ones that listen for the clang of the death hammer
imagination confused their senses
in their heads, if you cross the line, you may die
we are tagged with a curse
driven by two hands that swung the weapon
that took a man almost a century ago
when the hangman made them pay their debt
we all paid the price
of being amongst the guilty
living here in Hammertown
July 1, 2013
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2013
Dereliction of Duty
Drinking my morning coffee, hauling on a cigarette
watching the sunrise over the trees
sitting in the open air on my back balcony
nervously getting reacquainted with a normal life
or what others think plain living is
I remember when it was decided that I needed this
actually everything was decided for me
and I just went along with it
for my sanity and being able to live
with the decisions made that I knew where right
There are people all around me
that have been familiar for years
no w I have to actually get to know them
as members of my immediate family
It was the voices of the family elders
that has me sitting here now
being raised to know right from wrong
and to believe in standing by it
without every second guessing it.
It was an order by a person
that thought they would be just followed
by humans with blind eyes
I heard the words but did not believe
in the order that was to be best for all around
I listened to my own reasoning
and would not move without saying a word
my face said it all
I did not care if anyone would join me
They say what I did
in some places was dereliction of duty
and I was sent home to start over
In reflection, staring at the new sunrise
in a place that is a mystery
waiting to be introduced to this world
that is so frightening to me
but I put myself here by believing in true right
I would do it again.
June 14, 2013
Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2013
It’s Over
The drummers of time
are slowing down to a thud
the same sounds that you
will be hearing soon in your demise
Your smugness and conceit
are evident for all to see
the downfall of your soul
is believing all that
you have built yourself to be
that is a place above us all
a pedestal that is listening
under the weight of your ego
The weight of your own intolerance
has made you deaf to the outside
the piper is marching on you
and your blinded senses
cannot let you see beyond yourself
The days of administering pain
stealing the memories of innocent
whispering promises of grandeur
for you are soon to be over
you will melt under the pressure
of the hands of your own torture
no one can match the discretions
of the path you have paved
of the ruins of your victims
the most dedicated shape shifter
has blood in their veins
the same veins that are empty
in the vessel you call a body
that is why you are dead inside
and now defeated, dead to us all
you will not dictate our path
feel the brutal wrath of truth
for you, it is over
June 20, 2013
Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2013
Wow. . .great pieces, more ink to your pen dear comrade
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