Are We for Real?

 

From where I sit

I do a lot of thinking,

Sometimes not very constructive

But I think we are sinking.

 

Sinking in so many ways

I am amazed

But hoping, hopefully not hopelessly

It is a passing phase.

 

Tremendous reform

Albeit in talking and planning,

Meanwhile, as far as I can see,

Little positive happening.

 

Constitution reform

And social reform,

Add to the mix education reform

And public service reform.

 

Meanwhile what has been built

Is now left to lag

And as usual, only a few

Have so-called reason to brag.

 

Partisan blindness

And mounting narcolepsy

Driven by myriad promises

And abject apathy.

 

A false sense of wellbeing

Amidst the swelling strife

Particularly among the “better off”

In their so-called better life.

 

How long I ask, how long,

Before reform takes some shape?

How much more, I ask,

Can the most vulnerable take?

 

 

Living on promises

Like a car running on fumes,

Petrol long gone from the tank

And no wriggle room.

 

Looking forward to a harvest

With the hope of trickle down

While living in a fairy tale world

Managed by clowns.

 

All schools being equal

Except for the student intake,

Some making it to paradise

Others, just to the gate.

 

Yes, all schools are equal

But some more equal than others

And the equal ones at the bottom

Causing us a bother.

 

If the schools are equal

School children where they live,

Goodness gracious, even I can see this

And my brain is a sieve.

 

A lousy attempt at zoning

And persisting with the same,

Daring to expect a different result-

Tell me, isn’t this insane?

 

 

Pecking order established

From a long time ago

And whose children will go where?

Both you and I know.

 

It bothers me a whole lot

Re our student disbursement

In which some schools are stifled

And others given entitlement.

 

And the measuring rod used

Is a single assessment

Of English and Mathematics

With questionable intent.

 

With similar courses of study

Each school must be competitive

And irrespective of student intake

Must use their initiative.

 

Top order or bottom order

It makes no difference,

They must do competitively well

At the Ministry’s insistence.

 

Those who have it

And those who clearly lack it

Must produce simultaneously

Though some ill equipped.

 

The comparisons are rife

From school to school

But to expect good results from all

Is the folly of a fool.

 

Are we for real

Expecting blood from a stone

And putting plasters on crises

That are full-blown?

 

Are we for real

Regarding the crime scene

Tapping ourselves on the shoulders

Re what should have been?

 

Because what is current

Is not the promise made

And given all the talking and planning

We have blatantly failed.

 

Tackling the problem

At the point of the outcome

But seemingly afraid to touch those

That bring in the guns.

 

Similarly with drugs;

It’s the youngster with the spliff

But drug barons and importers

Hiding in our midst.

 

Anonymous?  I doubt it

But apparently so,

But then again, if you ask me,

Who am I to know?

 

Constitution reform

Promised since Election 2022,

Haven’t been hearing much on this

Have you?

 

Are we for real

Thinking everybody is blind

And cannot see the short change

And that we’re in a bind?

 

Answer me this question

Re the most vulnerable,

Are they in any better a position

Or in more trouble?

 

Come focus with me

On the increasing poverty

Not on the international façade

That is our country.

 

From outside we are a house

Appearing freshly painted

But its occupants with hardships

Are daily acquainted.

 

Are we for real

Believing that plaster is a cure

When after many years of negligence

Maintenance was ignored.

 

It’s like in with the new

And out with the old

But the new is not quite ready

Is the story we are told.

 

So that while we await reform

What we have is dying

And the leadership pontificates

On how hard they are trying.

 

It’s like building a bridge

To be suspended in midair

With absolutely nothing to support it

But this, obviously not clear.

 

 

And the church in all this

Speaks of an apathy

That says Jesus will soon return

Hence, no need to worry.

 

Are we for real

Or is it nothing to you

Dear leaders of our fair land

What the poor are going through?

 

 

 

The T20 World Cup has come

And it is almost gone,

Come Saturday, God willing

It will be game on.

 

In just a few hours

The final will have ended,

A relative few will have benefitted

But most will be offended.

 

A few will be singing

While counting their profits

But the poor and most vulnerable

Will struggle as of habit.

 

We are in this together

Often says the PM

But her challenges are nothing

Like poor people problem.

 

Whence the next meal

The children to send school

And this is not the exception;

This is the rule.

 

Whose children are failing?

Mainly poor people’s,

The wealthy and the better off

Are not so troubled.

 

 

Are we for real?

My question to the elected,

Will you continue towards the future

The present being neglected?

 

Is it nothing to you

All you that pass by

Seemingly unaware and uncaring

When the vulnerable sigh?

Yes, you kings and queens

How about the pawns?

Will the pawns be any better off

After World Cup is gone?

 

After World Cup is Gone

Life will go on

But many will still face the night

Hoping for a dawn.

 

A dawn that is elusive

A dawn repeatedly promised,

A dawn natural to a select few

But to most a myth.

 

Stewart Russell © June 27, 2024

 

Any Façade Is Bad

I tried to believe it

But I really could not,

I had covered all the ends

But I still got caught.

Later I discovered

I was set up by a friend,

A straight case of envy

And that was the end.

Someone came calling

And I answered the knock,

On opening the door

I was confronted by cops.

It made no use running

They had me good

And one read me my rights

As any good cop would.

For a moment or so

I had considered a bluff

But before I could decide

I was in handcuffs.

I was roughly led away

And put in a vehicle

And driven to the precinct

Like a common criminal.

I had had a long run

I had made lots of cash

But now I had been found out

It was over in a flash.

Few would believe it

I had a beautiful façade,

The society respected me

And I was a community dad.

But I betrayed their trust

Though that did not matter,

As long as I was making money

That was not a bother.

  

A friend wanted to get in

On my little deal

But I told him I wouldn’t

And he threatened to squeal.

He was particularly persistent

And I did not back down,

I refused to give in

But he kept coming around.

I had been careless

During just one transaction,

He was privy to this

And wanted a piece of the action.

But greed is a funny thing

And I wasn’t going to share,

He eventually disappeared

But then the cops appeared.

Clearly he had gone to them

With what he had known

For when they came to the house

They were not alone.

He accompanied them

And he identified me too,

There was nowhere out of this

I was finally through.

I made the newspapers

It was not a pretty sight,

I had looked good for a while

But my deeds came to light.

A featured mugshot

And a photo in handcuffs,

The easy days were over

I was now into the rough.

Many could not believe it

And neither could I,

I was so humiliated

I wish I could die.

But why am I telling you this?

It is the least I can do,

If you are doing like I did

Your comeuppance will come too.

It is time you understand

That any façade is bad

And eventually all will know

You are not a genuine dad.

Stewart Russell © October 2018

My Sweetheart

Today is my wife’s birthday

She still looks quite young,

Just three years younger than I

Her adoring clown.

I admire her so much

That she doesn’t know,

Because of this macho streak in me

Sometimes it doesn’t show.

But I want to tell her today

In front of my face book family,

Girl I love you with all of my heart

And I know that you love me.

Ignore those times I am strange

When even I don’t understand me,

See beyond the facade

And love with me tenderly.

For I am sometimes like a child

And maybe vexed with the world,

It has nothing to do with you,

You are my precious pearl.

It took so much out of me

To swallow that macho streak

But for once in our relationship

I must let my heart speak.

And my heart says I love you

More and more each day,

Forget the stupid body language

I won’t have it any other way.

So happy birthday my sweetheart

May the joy of this day be yours,

And may you have many more birthdays;:

Love, hugs and kisses galore!

Stewart Russell (c) 2019

Freedom

To be free is what we long for

To be enslaved is what we abhor

The right to choose as we see fit

And push our cause as the law permits.

But so-called freedom was costly

Particularly for some of certain ethnicity

Achieved through blood and sweat and tears

To rid them of slavery and calm their fears.

In some cases the law had to be reframed

As men and women fought through much pain

So that the disenfranchised could also claim

Equal rights in their very own name.

Equal rights as relating to work done

And wages as an entitled compensation

Basic rights such as in education and health

And fair opportunities to accumulate wealth.

Equal rights whether black or tan

Equal rights whether woman or man

Equal rights for the rich and the poor

Equal rights to all no less and no more.

The right to facilities that others use

The right to do business without being abused

The right to affiliate with whom one chooses

The right to an opinion…one accepts or refuses.

Such laws were enshrined in the statute book

Into which legal minds will always look

Oft to defend a villain who such laws forsook

As well as the victim whose right they took.

It is not an uncommon thing these days

For some to abuse these laws in diverse ways

Looking for loop holes they can explore

And some unrepentant defaulter restore.

Sometimes freedom may be returned for cash

Readily available to one that has it stashed

And with a choice of confinement or a fine

Will opt for the latter one as the judge defines.

Sometimes freedom is dependent on money

Requested by a legal luminary

To represent one charged with a felony

To decide whether he is innocent or guilty.

Some that should have been incarcerated

After due process were allowed to go free

This may have been the prowess of a legal mind

That articulated some legal technicality

One is innocent until he has been proven guilty

So the law of the land declares

But most often his innocence his guilt precedes

When his profile and history in the media appears.

Then there is the issue of infringing one’s rights

Acknowledged by that someone’s legal foresight

Attentive enough to recognize he’s been wronged

And files a claim to obtain what to him belongs.

This doesn’t always go as the claimant believes

Interpretation influences what the judge perceives

Such a case may be won or lost on argument

Often based on some long passed precedent.

Freedom is defined by the law and the court

And evidence must be given one’s case to support

Freedom therefore becomes a legal construct

Determined by the law and the statute books.

So by now one and all should have picked up

That freedom for some is a peculiar cup

It’s yours, yes but not always easily accessed

It often requires money to mount your protest.

In some countries too depending on the rule

Some minority groups use the law as a tool

Laws recently passed their cause to advance

And their God-forbidden lifestyles to enhance.

Giving religious freedom to one and not another

The law supporting one and to the other a bother

Permitting one the right to advance his cause

And the other one putting his right on pause.

The rule cleverly manipulated by the minority

With spurious arguments and aggressive militancy

Fell for their plot and succumbed to their demand

And thus deprived the majority on the other hand.

So that the freedoms once taken for granted

Currently by the same law are now recanted

Making an abject mockery of “the majority rules”

And those upholding democracy looking like fools.

The face of freedom constantly is being rearranged

Like a game in which the rules are often changed

Giving ascendancy to the clearly mentally deranged

I say from my vantage point such a freedom is strange.

  

The legislators are carried away on a political wave

Making laws that support how weird people behave

Facilitating whatever their demented minds may crave

Meekly capitulating to how they rant and rave.

And we call this freedom; freedom that’s abused

Freedom for a minority but for a majority refused

Freedom betrayed now under a veil of threats

A pseudo freedom bringing upon us many regrets.

Freedom outside of God is a façade and short lived

It simply says take all you can, no need to give

It’s a selfish obsession promoting me, myself and mine

Those three always up front all others stand behind.

What do we have?  A crazed world out of whack

A freedom that’s enforced and behavior that is slack

Wrong that passes as right and right that is now wrong

A paradigm shift and the weak elements made strong.

Real freedom upon God’s Holy Word hinges

Not a flirtatious façade deep within evil’s fringes

Injected into confused minds as though with syringes

At the thought of such a self-respected soul cringes.

Freedom is the God-given ability to do what is right

That is doing what is honourable in God’s own sight

Revealed through Holy Scripture’s illuminating light

Giving to one and all in need of such spiritual insight.

Freedom is really Jesus delivering one from sin

Initiating relationship and a steadfast walk with him

Enabled by the Holy Spirit who resides within

Giving clarity to one’s vision that once was dim.

  

Freedom is a walk in the Spirit not after the flesh

A life of self-denial forsaking what one once relished

A change of desires and a delight in the Lord

Internalizing daily doses of His precious Word.

Freedom was not chartered or championed by man

Freedom was determined through the divine plan

God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Spirit all three

Conceptualized, executed and enables such in you and me.

Stewart Russell © 2016