Pampered Infant or Adult?

 

Here is a question

That should not be deferred

But I dare not answer it now

Rather, to you it’s referred.

 

 

Pampered infant or adult?

Which of the twain be it

Seeing they both wear pampers

Out of needed habit?

 

 

For an infant, for certain,

Until he or she has control,

For an adult who’s lost this control

Though matured.

 

For the old aged adult

It is called incontinence,

However, for the very young infant,

There’s another bent.

 

Pampered at the beginning

And also at the end,

Two times we may be pampered

Is what I contend.

 

Which is it, I must ask,

As it relates to a country

That is fifty-eight years of age?

Could it be senility?

 

I scarcely think so,

Neither could it be infancy;

Not around fifty-eight for certain!

Incontinence it must be.

 

Pampered in the sense

Re lacking waste control

And not the showering of gifts

Beauteous to behold.

 

We are an infant republic

Clothed with naked butt

Venturing out into the wider public

Constitution having forsook.

 

 

Assuming much control

As in the Emperor’s new clothes,

His nakedness evident to a child

But to adults yet to unfold.

 

Pampered by partisans

That are too blind to see

Beneath the alluring cosmetics

Covering up its reality.

 

 

 

Pampered infant or adult?

Which of the twain be it?

It could be a bit of both of these

From where I sit.

 

But you can tell me

When it’s convenient to you,

As for right now I am out of here

And I guess you too.

 

Stewart Russell © October 13, 2024

 

What Ultimately Matters

 

Rejoice not because the spirits

Are subjected unto you,

Let it be known my brother and sister

This is nothing you can do.

 

What ultimately matters

Is where your name is written,

It ultimately matters to you and me

That it is written in heaven.

 

They had only just returned

From the mission of great success

And they were over their heads

Re their phenomenal success.

 

What a report they shared

Obviously reveling in the flesh

But the Lord Christ revealed to them

It was less than second best.

 

 

Rejoice not because the spirits

Are subjected unto you,

Let it be known my brother and sister

This is nothing we can do.

 

All honour is the Lord’s

And all glory belongs to him

And to attempt to share in his glory

Is accounted to us as sin.

 

You’d recall foolish King Herod

Who thought he was a god

And because he accepted such glory

His was a terrible fall.

 

His life was ended that day

And like so many that followed

In the dust of their so-called empire

They too were swallowed.

 

Napoleon the great and Hitler

But before these two, the Jews

That crucified the Lord Jesus Christ;

All came to their just due.

 

It behooves us therefore

To regard the words of the Christ,

For a born-again child of the Saviour

Is to acknowledge his sacrifice.

 

It matters not what we achieve

Or who is subjected to us,

What matters at the end of our sojourn

Is that we belong to Jesus.

 

 

Rejoice not because the spirits

Are subjected unto you,

Let it be known my brother and sister

This is nothing we can do.

 

What ultimately matters

Is where our name is written,

It ultimately matters to both you and me

That it is written in heaven.

 

Stewart Russell © September 29, 2024

 

Some Don’t Believe

If you don’t believe

There is going to be a hell

Then believe this, my friend,

There’s one the Bible tells.

 

Jesus said more about it

Than he spoke about heaven,

We don’t have to dread it

If we’ve been forgiven.

 

There is a fancy I know

We can argue things away

But believe God’s word

It is here to stay.

 

 

Hell was created;

In the Bible you’ll find this

So it won’t go away

However hard you wish.

 

Interesting enough,

It wasn’t created for man

But for the devil and his angels,

This was the plan.

 

However, all who reject Christ

Will be cast into hell

And it is not a place of comfort

But a place of dread.

 

I have heard it said

Hell is right here right now:

Some manner of retribution

God has avowed.

 

Death will end it

It won’t forever abide,

Perhaps this is the reason

Some commit suicide.

 

There is a hell

That many go through here

But for this type of hell

It is man we must fear.

 

 

 

His selfishness and greed

Is responsible for this

But there is no comparison

If heaven we miss.

 

God’s great salvation

Is the only way of escape,

If you are on the broad way

Hell is your fate.

 

I know some will laugh

And call this baloney

But I say to all naysayers

Hell is a reality.

 

God does not operate

After the fact,

Oh no, my friend,

He’s not a God like that.

 

That god is human

Spelt with a common ’g’,

Certainly not Almighty God

That exists eternally.

 

God is not reactive

As humans tend to be.

The entirety of life’s future

Is God’s history.

 

 

History is different though

From His story,

God’s narrative is man’s redemption

In the Bible that’s what we see.

 

A narrative of hope

But also, one of dread:

Heaven for the spiritually alive;

Hell for the spiritually dead.

 

I will be too busy

Shaking hands with friends

Was what one critic said

Of his destined end.

 

He doesn’t believe

But this doesn’t change the fact

That hell is a real place

And there's no way back.

 

Stewart Russell © March 16, 2024

 

Out of Sync

 

 

Out of sync

And out of step

Is the reason why

There is much regret.

 

A pretense to know

When we know it not

Is terribly misleading

And utter rot.

 

Out of sync

With the Creator,

Out of step

With the Saviour.

 

Inebriated

By the world’s offerings,

Intoxicated

And suffering.

 

Why do we languish

And why are we sick?

‘Tis the devil’s lollipop

We currently lick.

 

Out of sync

Due to a false reality,

Out of step

The new normalcy.

 

 

Out of sync

And out of step,

Overboard we’ve dived

Into the murky depths.

 

Depths of lunacy

And degradation,

Depths of disunity

And segregation.

 

Where is God

In all of this?

Exactly where we left Him

When Him we dissed.

 

Hence out of sync

And out of step,

Our acute drunkenness

Breeds disrespect.

 

Pretending to be sharp

We’re as dull as a stone

Not even realizing

We’re rotten to the bone.

 

Out of step

And out of sync

We animatedly argue

We’re animal linked.

 

Our behaviour shows

We’ve stooped even lower

Having become

Wicked explorers.

 

Plumbing the depths

Of unexplored vice,

We are no longer men

And not even mice.

 

Primordial soup,

You’d remember the brew,

Well now it’s modern man’s

Vegetable stew.

 

We’re out of sync

And drunken with it,

Out of step is our purpose

And our daily habit.

 

I speak as one

Of the human race

That have fallen into a state

Of abject disgrace.

 

Stewart Russell © March 25, 2024

 

Nip It in the Bud

 

 

From “Just one more thing”

To “Nip it in the bud”,

From Colombo to Barney Fife

Two characters I love.

 

I watch many old shows

And Internet movies,

Wifey and I do so regularly;

As a matter of fact, daily.

 

And we still get a laugh

Each time we watch,

Especially watching Barney Fife

Constantly botch.

 

 

Like Lieutenant Colombo

Barney too has a quip,

“Nip it in the bud,” he often says

But still falls for the trick.

 

“Nip it in the bud, Andy!”

This in respect to Opie

Having done something wrong

Thus, raised by Barney.

 

 

 

Opie was Andy’s son

Whose mother had passed

And his interaction with Barney

Was utter class.

 

He reprimanded Andy

To “nip it in the bud”

Pertaining to the young Opie

Whom Andy loved.

 

He was Andy’s deputy

And he carried a gun,

The many times he misfired it

Gave us much fun.

 

 

Sheriff Andy allowed him

Only one bullet

And he had to catty that bullet

In his top pocket.

 

How he became a sheriff

I would never know

For he was the most bungling one

Ever put on show.

 

“Nip it in the bud”

Was talk and not practice

For Barney’s faults and errors

Comprised a long list.

 

 

Like Colombo in his show

Barney was a formidable star

And outdid many other comics

That tried to be on par.

 

 

Just taking a look at him

Would make you laugh,

Barney’s varied facial gymnastics

Would crack you in half.

 

“Nip it in the bud!

You got to nip in the bud!”

And given his drama and gravity,

He would if he could.

 

This was Barney Fife

Of the Andy Griffith show,

Not taking away from Andy himself

Whom we also know.

 

 

“Just one more thing”,

You must “nip it in the bud”,

This is good advice to follow;

If you can, you should.

 

Stewart Russell © October 11, 2024

 

“Just One More Thing”

 

 

“Just one more thing”

Does this sound familiar?

Just when I thought he’d finished

He popped another.

 

Another question, I mean,

And one most unexpected,

Causing the disconcerted suspect

To look rather dejected.

 

He was in the clear

Or so the suspect thought

But now he was totally bowled over

As well as quite distraught.

 

I guess by now you know

I mean Lieutenant Colombo

And for all those still in the dark,

This is a television show.

 

A clever police detective

Who easily throws one off,

Just a fleeting glance at his attire

And one is likely to scoff.

 

 

 

His car is distinctly decrepit

Clearly from an age long ago

And his droopy eared canine friend,

Both fit in with Colombo.

 

“Just one more thing”

What a nuisance is Colombo!

And as you watch him interrogate

It’s a marvel what he knows.

 

A piece of *ABC chewing gum

Or an ordinary tyre track,

Simple clues ordinarily overlooked

He’d use to prove a fact.

 

And he is no slump

If it comes to technology

For he is an absolute professional

At demystifying a mystery.

 

Especially in a frame-up

And the evidence seems clear-cut,

There is invariably that little slip

And the culprit is out of luck.

 

“Just one more thing”

He wasn’t looking for that

And out of the clear blue it seems

The case is suddenly cracked.

 

Unkempt and lacking poise

And foolishly looking,

Sounding rather unintelligent

And always smoking.

 

 

A cheap brand of cigar

Adding to his sorry disguise,

Another characteristic of Colombo

Re the element of surprise.

 

Brilliant men flounder

And very clever women slip,

They all fall prey to Colombo’s bag

Of extraordinary tricks.

 

Please don’t be misled

By the way Colombo looks,

Just watch one of his TV episodes

And you will be hooked.

 

 

“Just one more thing”

Please watch it very closely,

Spot the clues as early as you can

If you are as smart as he.

 

Lieutenant Colombo

My favourite television show,

“Just one more thing”

And that’s the final blow.

 

*ABC…Already Been Chewed

 

Stewart Russell © October 1, 2024

 

Fit It to Whomever

 

 

 

How often do you hear

“We are doing the best we can”?

They are doing the best they can

Down to every single man.

 

And they can only get better

For they are at rock bottom

And should they drill further down

This would be rotten.

 

Doing their best for whom?

Not for insignificant me,

And I dare say not for you either;

I trust that you see.

 

We can become so partisan,

We refuse to see the truth

But steering us right in our face

Is the blatant proof.

 

So, if as they are saying

They are doing their best,

Why is it not obvious to everyone?

Why don’t I feel less stress?

 

Why do I get the feeling

That they are doing their best

In the sense they cannot do better,

As in not up to the test…

 

 

Or, as in doing their best

As shown by their high grades

Received from international agencies

The other Government failed?

 

So, it is all well and good

To say “We are doing our best”

But I need to know whose agenda

And who grades the test.

 

 

Is it the IMF

That pushes raising tax

So that whatever gains accrued to us

Must now be put back?

 

Is it certain corporations

And or faithful devotees

That must receive promised rewards

For ably assisting parties?

 

Like the promised fatted calf

That was previously engaged

And if such promises are not kept

Some will likely be enraged?

 

It is likely not you or me

To whom their best relates,

If so, tell me my partisan friend,

Would we be in this state?

 

 

 

They come to us first

When it is campaign time

But after our 30 seconds of power

We are far from their mind.

 

They promise to serve us

Just to get our vote

And thereafter, the fires that burn,

They continue to stoke.

 

In the words of their partisans

We complain too much

And want to treat the Government

As though it is our crutch.

 

“Get up and get,” they crow,

“And stop the complaining.”

Forgetting it’s the last Government

They are still blaming.

 

They complained then

But theirs was constructive

However, the complainers presently,

Are considered destructive.

 

 

The former did their worst

These are doing their best,

It’s really only a matter, you see,

Re who is marking the test.

 

 

 

The best they can they do

And they do the best they can

And they daily testify to the fact,

This is down to every man.

 

Man, here is generic;

I know this doesn’t hold today

But to facilitate rhyme and meter,

I use it in this way.

 

No offense is meant

And I trust none is taken

But if perchance you are offended,

I beg to be forgiven.

 

Stewart Russell © October 4, 2024