Cannot Sleep

 

 

They cannot sleep

For the sound of the guns,

They know not where the next volley

Would come from.

 

High powered weapons

That bypass doors

Easily piercing chattel house wood

To drop on the floor.

 

So, they stay awake

Ready to hit the floor

While the little ones sleep through

Evidence by snores.

 

Unaware of the danger

That such weapons pose

The young ones could soundly sleep

As though comatose.

 

But the more aware,

They just cannot sleep,

They must be ready to take action

When the bullets speak.

 

In the still of the night

When the crickets chirp,

Mamas must watch over their babes

So, they won’t be hurt.

 

 

They cannot sleep

For the threat of the guns

While the avengers cannot sleep;

They’ve work to be done.

 

Revenge and reprisal

For the last one executed!

Wherever this assassin or whoever,

He too must be muted.

 

Half 2025 completed

And, with much to show

With a whopping twenty-eight persons

Who no longer pass go.

 

As judge and jury

And with weapon in hand,

These assassins have all they need

To execute their plan.

 

They cannot sleep

But for a different reason,

They have a mission to accomplish;

It is killing season.

 

Whether it be nighttime

Or whether it be day

Barbadian citizens are on the alert;

It is now the way.

 

 

A wave affects the island

Though not a storm type

And which our Parliament and police

Seem unable to fight.

 

With loads of rhetoric

And with “talk can’t done”,

They appear clueless as to the source

Of these imported guns.

 

We know how they come

Was a comment recently

In which the speaker made the effort

To be heard clearly.

 

That comment, as I recall,

Eliminated a constituency

Suggesting that we look to the others

To solve this mystery.

 

Can we have this assurance

From the other sitting MPs

What this particular MP made clear

Re their constituency?

 

 

They gave a suggestion

To be taken seriously

Regarding the Barbados Police Service

In carrying out their duty.

 

A targetted approach

Aimed at both high and low

And not just certain communities

As statistics show.

 

The country can’t sleep

With bullets flying around

When almost daily another citizen

Is taken down.

 

It is mostly the youth,

Putting our future at stake

As well as our tourism endeavour

Still thriving to date.

 

 

 

Many cannot sleep

Though for different reasons

And this reckless gun importation

Is akin to treason.

 

The elderly are targeted,

Our women especially

And we wonder who will be the next

In this unsolved mystery.

 

Many cannot sleep

And it is getting worse

And all we are mostly regaled with

Are speeches rehearsed.

 

From the illegal importer

To the assassin’s hand,

Guns are causing serious insomnia

In our fair land.

 

To grammar purists

Re my incorrect use of they-

To avoid the issue of gender identity,

I took this way.

Stewart Russell © July 1, 2025

 

Beliefs Impact Dreams

 

 

Based on my belief

I often dreamt of Jesus’ return,

I was absolutely convinced

It would be during my sojourn.

 

My night sleep would be filled

With visions of the rapture

But I would suddenly awake

To face reality’s picture.

 

It could be a nightmare

Where I would be left behind

Or caught up in the clouds

At another time.

 

I still recall that time

When I was awakened by a snore,

It was my mother’s trumpeting

That I hear no more.

 

I was steadfast in my gaze

Upon the starry sky

Expecting the Lord would return

And take me on high.

 

By the way, I still do

Though much has been rearranged,

After reading the Word

Quite a lot has been changed.

 

“After reading the Word?

What was he doing all the time?”

I took off the denominational lens

And I disabused my mind.

 

It is amazing how we study

In the light of what we think

And, therein my brother and sister,

Is the denominational link.

 

The denomination we joined

Shapes what we believe

And that influence is what we see

When the Bible we read.

 

We see what we want to see,

It is a denominational thing

And it is even further established

In the songs that we sing.

 

It jumps off the page

Whether it is there or not,

Since for years we have read it

It becomes our lot.

 

We read the pictures presented

Like we did in primary school,

Thus, the concept is cemented

And the denomination rules.

 

We live it out in the daytime

And we dream about it in the night

And as far as we are concerned

It is the only thing that’s right.

 

 

A little brainwashing, perhaps,

Hopefully not the dangerous kind

But at the end of the day,

It is what saturates our mind.

 

Now I read for myself

I no longer have those dreams

And I do not read into the text

What my denomination gleans.

 

I still dream, mind you,

But interestingly, not like before

And the Bible is becoming clearer

As I read it more and more.

 

Stewart Russell © March 21, 2021

 

Sleep on It

 

 

Here is a light one

Just to relieve the stress

That you have ill advisably created

Because you want to be best.

 

Sleep for you

May be a thing of the past

And whatever you sleep on

It just doesn’t last.

 

So, here is a list of things

I am sure you have tried,

Two of them, I will submit to you,

Cannot be denied.

 

People will sleep on a bed

A chair or the floor

Three almost without thinking

But hold on, there are more.

 

 

On a hammock or a pillow

Or even on the ground,

When sleep hit them real hard

They just have to lie down.

 

I guess you can find more

But I have a special two

Which I have reserved for my readers:

People just like you.

 

Try sleeping on an empty stomach

This is not easy at all,

The sweet dreams you forget

But the nightmares you recall.

 

 

By the way, if you have an idea

That is fuzzy in your mind

Just sleep on it

People do that all the time.

 

Stewart Russell © December 31, 2020

 

Stranger than Fiction

 

 

His hair was quire ruffled

Yet he was skin-head bald

And though as short as they come

He was actually quite tall.

 

He was of light complexion

But of the darker hue,

And while he looked like me

He could have been you.

 

When I first met him

I was not around

Such that when I looked for him

He could not be found.

 

He wore very dark shades

That were actually spectacles

Yet he was blind as a bat

Just like ordinary people.

 

 

He ran with a noticeable limp

On his single peg leg

And though he was filthy rich

He preferred to beg.

 

He was very transparent

Given his bulky size

And though he was quite humble

He was still full of pride.

 

Yes, he was arrogantly proud

Yet the humblest of men

And though this was just recent

It was way back then.

 

He seldom left home

But frequented his district

And would entertain a lot

But nobody would visit.

 

He was stranger than fiction

And larger than life,

Though he had never been married

He still lived with his wife.

 

All this may seem incredible

But it was actually so

And even if I am lying

Tell me, how would you know?

 

 

I was the only eyewitness

To all of these non-facts

And I knew the man

Because I created his stats.

 

So, don’t accuse me of lying

I am a story writer

And likewise, the novels your read

Don’t make you any brighter.

 

He was stranger than fiction

And larger than life

The truth and what you believe

Need not cause you strife.

 

Outside of the Bible

All else is fiction,

Have a little fun sometimes

But don’t let it be an addiction.

 

If you must tell a lie

Make sure everyone knows,

It is what jokes are made of

That’s how they flow.

 

 

I was in the deep throes of sleep

When I wrote this poem…

There I go again

Now you know my problem.

 

Stewart Russell © August 2020

 

 

A Real Nightmare

 

 

In the middle of the night

He woke with a fright,

A horrible nightmare

The reason for his fear.

 

At the time it felt so real

His complexion paled

And all he could do

Was sit up in bed, won’t you?

 

Afraid to go back to sleep

Since he wanted no repeat

He sat right there

Wishing morning to appear.

 

It was a funny thing though

If I may say so

In the middle of the night

That was a terrible plight.

That is a rather long wait

So, imagine his state

As he sat there on the bed

Just holding his head.

 

But nothing is mysterious

Even though serious,

Regarding one’s fear

After a horrible nightmare.

 

It is a natural fear

After having a nightmare

And I would even bet

There might be some cold sweat.

 

However, grab a hold of this

And don’t you dare miss

For if it were you I wonder,

What would you do?

When a nightmare is true

There is nothing one can do

And awaking from one’s sleep

Is a more dreaded repeat.

 

Whether asleep or awake

This nightmare was his fate,

It was on his mind all day

And asleep it won’t go away.

 

Thus, he awoke with fright

In the middle of the night

For the nightmare he had had

In reality was just as bad.

It is like a COVID dream

About this real COVID scene

Whether the real or the nightmare

One would be scared.

 

Stewart Russell © February 8, 2021

 

No More COVID

 

 

I dreamt the all clear was given

And COVID was no more,

Once again faces were exposed

And there was rejoicing galore.

 

Now we could drop our guard

And hug and kiss again,

Bajans went out and did business

Whether it was sun or rain.

 

People were so much nicer

And lent one another a helping hand

And Barbados became a nation

Where everybody was ‘fam’.

 

We gave people a lift in our car

Where before we could not

For fear that COVID would get us,

O we went through quite a lot.

 

The churches became full

Like they weren’t in a long while

And just simply being nice

Became the Barbadian lifestyle.

 

The economy picked up

And boy, it really took off

And everything looked radiant

Gone was the COVID dross.

 

 

The vegetation looked greener

And the air was quite refreshed

And people moved with one purpose

And that was to do their best.

 

It was so like heaven on earth

It was as if the Lord had come back,

We all spoke nicely to one another

And gone was the silly flack.

 

No vagrants were on the street

There was not a single one,

Everybody engaged in usefulness

Every single one was gone.

 

There was no such thing as the flu

COVID or otherwise,

And no one, I mean no one

Had to walk around in disguise.

 

There was still washing of hands,

After all that was hygiene

But we no longer had to be quarantine

Or even get a vaccine.

 

 

Tourists galore were coming

And the cruise ships too

And airlines too many to mention

Frequently came into view.

 

“This is the life,” I kept on saying

When suddenly it all changed,

I was lying on the floor

And the dream was out of range.

 

I tried to go back to sleep

So that I could dream some more

And so that I would not fall again

I remained there on the floor.

 

If an all clear had been given

It was not for the COVID storm

So, continue to adhere to the protocols

Until we are back to the norm.

 

Stewart Russell © March 2, 2021