By Andrew Scott

The Runaway

Dear Father, I think it has finally happened.
The circle of sins is closing in.
The hair on my skin feels it.
You may never see me again.

The fear that you always had
about the free spirit of my life
taking over the path of bad decisions
has come true at this moment.

I know now I should have listened
to your words of experience and wisdom
instead of thinking how much you did not know.
Sadly, I now know the truth.

I cannot say I was led astray.
Walked the path alone.
The trail was so addicting
the further in I went.

Now I am in a ditch
and am not going to get out.
May never see you again.
I am sorry.

The Furies

The heat around him is scorching.
His betrayals are starting
to dig his legacy deeper.
Presenting a person
that deep down he is not.
Telling all, late nights working
when he was visiting a different home,
taking care of a side family.
His lies are catching up
with both homes finding one another.
Now he sweats with no where to go.
The fires of the Furies are catching him.

She used a gentle smile to pull
young ladies into her lair.
Kindness and friendship
laced with an invisible evil mind.
She would take them
under her soft wing.
With liquor and good vibes
she would lead them
to their tortured rape and demise.
Authorities and the public
chained her to a torture cell,
dark and hot, no escape
under the watchful eyes of the Furies.

People trying to be sneaky,
thinking no one will see them,
lying, taking, killing.
Heated eyes are always seeing
when others do not.
Providing the proper punishment
through the vengeful fire of the Furies.

Dark Figure II

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.

One thought on “The Runaway and Other Poems

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