By Andrew Scott

Not The Time Or Place

Crashing through the doors
like a rabid animal
trying to spread its infliction.
Glazed eyes of hate
seeing nothing but blurred red,
anger leading the sight.
The wrong place you have been lead
with your tunneled thoughts.
Feeling unexpectedly persecuted,
ready to lash out.
Not caring about witnesses
or bystanders.
The wall grips your intentions,
blocking the child antics
that your steps have taken.
Stomping the misguided rage
that burns the unthought-of mind.
Save the innocent
from your heated, cowardly punch.
Aggression has mislead you
to the place that you are standing.
Now or never realizing
that you are a type of person
sharing misguided anger and
bringing it to the wrong place and time.

Embrace The Choice

Staring at two different places.
Caught at another blind intersection.
So many have been seen and traveled
throughout the years behind me.
Each entrance looks so different.
Inviting weathered paths
pointed in any which way.
Always leading to indecision.
As in the past i know
each step can lead to torment
or the happiest, fulfilled outcome.
The terrain is marked
with the tears of many
before me and my steps forward.
I know there will be more tears,
pain, fear, laughter, and sweat.
Spirits will be uplifted
and soiled with each blind corner.
Smiling as one step is taken
and the direction of the walk
is chosen, knowing I cannot go back
while embracing, holding
the everyday choice.

 Warren County Line

The Warren County Line is on the outskirts of town.
They say thieves and bandits are all around,
lurking from weathered home to home.
We have been told to stay away
by our wise, old elders.
They say the smell of sin
will draw the strongest in
until you are never found again.
Passing by you can feel
the aura of unadulterated lawlessness.
No rules passed through the generations
that spread curious fear in us all.
We are all outsiders to all of them.
People that do not understand
how the civilized can live that way.
Downtrodden homes filled with dirt.
Kids that have never seen a school,
adults that have not arrived at a job.
Yet across that line, they all live on.
The screams of delight are hypnotizing
when heard through the echoes of the night.
Savage, mesmerizing music
inviting you to the debauchery.
To feel the sense of immortality
even if just for one night.
So many before have given
into that alluring temptation
of crossing over that line
to feel life’s hidden desires
never to be seen as the same
after coming back from
the calling of the Warren County Line.

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