Accessory Before and After

 

 

Accessory before

And after the fact,

Charged for knowingly assisting

But ignorant of the act.

 

My criminal record

Had now begun

And I was totally unaware

Of what I had done.

 

I could get a lawyer

Or be given one:

This trouble didn’t even set up

Like a coming storm.

 

Out of the clear blue

A knock on my door

And from that very moment

I had peace no more. 

 

I was fingered;

That I had been told,

What the word actually meant

I didn’t even know.

 

But having found out

I could only deny

But they would not accept

My truthful alibi.

 

I was not there,

I did not know what

But with all of my explaining

It didn’t mean squat.

 

What a nightmare

But how surreal!

Somebody had dealt me

A really bad deal.

 

I came to find out

The chief witness:

The very one that planted me

In this mess.

 

He was charged

For the very act

And named me his accessory before

And after the fact.

 

He was going down

But wasn’t going alone

Though he had committed the act

And did so on his own.

Using the directory

He came on a name,

When I heard this, I could only say

He had to be insane.

 

The law had no choice

But to come after me

For since my name was called

They had a duty.

 

He had chosen a name

From in his district,

It is amazing how a criminal

Uses his wits.

 

 

He did not know me

From diddlysquat

But I believe he was desperate

After he was caught.

 

Allowed to call someone

He fingered me

As his fingers did the walking

In the directory.

 

 

Remember that Ad?

Two fingers after the thumb

Walking down the directory page?

Boy, wasn’t he dumb!

 

And you too

If you believe this,

It would not only be a few screws

But a whole brain you miss.

 

I started writing

With nowhere to go,

It was on Independence Day

Before the parade show.

 

What is the probability

Of this actually happening?

I tell you, should this ever occur

It would be shocking.

 

I started with a title

That sounded great

And then I wrote a narrative

Tempting fate.

 

Like A Day at the Beach

When I’d never gone

But there was only one topic

And it was this one.

 

 

Use your imagination

Is what Mam would say

So, this is my excuse for my poem

On Independence Day. 

 

Stewart Russell © November 30, 2024

 

Ambiguity of a Setup

 

Setup is a familiar word

To most of us

And of course, in different ways,

It could create a fuss.

 

Hence, the ambiguity

That I will write about,

I just hope when I am through

I don’t get put out.

 

In the doghouse, I mean,

You know the term:

Meaning a place where you get put

When you are too firm.

 

It could be a setup

If you see what I mean,

A trap you were not aware of:

A nightmare not a dream.

 

We both planned together

With a promise in mind

But the partner I am looking for,

I cannot find.

 

He’s gone with the cash

For the job we both did

And I can’t find him anywhere;

He’s gone off the grid.

 

The dog was friendly;

That’s what he told me,

Now, you can check my lower leg

And tell me what you see.

 

It was definitely a setup

And I fell for it,

If you take note of the trend

It has become a habit.

 

 

I have a good setup

You must come and see it,

I actually built it myself;

It is where I sit.

 

He is set up for life

Having won the Lotto,

And he gets calls from people

He does not even know.

 

 

He set up the circuitry

And timed every switch,

And it functioned the entire night

Without a glitch.

 

Hence, two setups

With different outcomes,

One negative, the other positive

Thus, either can be done.

 

Because of the ambiguity

It should be specified

That one can mirror the other

As in a disguise.

 

So, be on the lookout

For all future setups,

Be sure you are reading right,

Don’t be dumbstruck.

 

Stewart Russell © October 28, 2024

 

Boiling Kettle Mystery

 

 

My kettle never boils

But I am glad

For I can tell you, if it uses to

That would be bad.

 

How do we know

When a kettle is boiling?

Silly old cow, as if you don’t know,

By the noise it is making.

 

Who is the silly one

I would dare enquire,

Because my friend, believe you me,

It would be on fire.

 

How oft do we hear

“The kettle is boiling!”

But if this were really true

That would be annoying.

 

Think of the money

We would have to spend,

For just one time on the fire

Would be the end.

 

Of the kettle

If you see what I mean,

A boiling kettle is a nightmare:

A very bad dream!

 

Let’s hope the water is boiling

And not the kettle

Though after the water is gone out

It will start on the metal.

 

Stewart Russell © November 16, 2024

 

But Sunday Dawned

 

 

From a bad Good Friday

To an awfully sad Saturday,

From an awfully sad Saturday

To a glad-tidings Sunday.

 

Three signaled days!

From the hapless to the hopeless to the hope,

Friday, Saturday and Sunday:

Three days worthy of note.

 

What an eventful Friday:

That heart stopping nightmare!

What a mind-numbing Saturday

Full of grief and fear!

 

But Sunday dawned

In more ways than one,

The light shone resplendently

And the darkness was gone!

 

 

“Three days,” he had said

And it came back to them,

“Slow of heart,” he had called the two

But this was the common problem.

 

He had told them many things

Which they had refused to accept

And the notion of his decease

Was a total reject.

 

But Sunday dawned

In more ways than one

And suddenly, like out of nowhere,

Hope was reborn.

 

 

 

It was Mary Magdalene

Who spoke to the gardener

Only to discover

That it was the Master.

 

With that she rushed off

Evangelism on her mind,

“Come and see the Master,” she said,

What a glorious find!

 

It did not take the rest long

To stir from their slumber,

Not much sleep on Saturday anyway,

Friday had done a number.

 

But Sunday dawned

In more ways than one

And the dread of Friday and Saturday

Was definitely gone.

 

“He is alive!” the cry went up

For Sunday had truly dawned,

A pep was in the disciples’ step

And they celebrated as one.

 

 

Yes, Sunday had dawned

In more ways than one:

The Lord Jesus Christ had risen

And death’s horror was gone.

 

From a bad Good Friday

To an awfully sad Saturday

But that glorious resurrection Sunday

Bespoke the born-again way.

 

Stewart Russell (c) April 17, 2022

 

 

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

 

Surreal

Is it happening to you?

Well, it’s happening to me,

Stay with me a while

And what I mean, you will see.

Life has become a dream

Well, more like a nightmare,

It is likely to get worse

And this is what I fear.

If back in October 2019

Someone had predicted this,

I would have accused that person

Of being a societal risk.

But now it is a reality

Though not a desirable deal,

Whether dream or nightmare,

It is in fact surreal.

Surreal is not a dream

But something that is real,

Just like all we are experiencing;

This is the real deal.

Tell me the number of times

That you have pinched yourself,

Even at times wondering,

Am I in the best of health?

It is indeed surreal

The times we are living in

And we wonder incessantly

What the next day will bring.

It has not been like this

For more than a hundred years

And even on that occasion

It was not a global affair.

  

Back then it was localized

Nothing like the present,

In this, the twenty-first century

Is an unprecedented event.

Scarcely a country is untouched

Neither the little nor great

And in fact, the bigger countries

Appear in a sorrier state.

Take the US of A for example

With what they are going through,

I thought they would lead the way

But they don’t have a clue.

And the UK as well

Their numbers are in the air

And in many cases like the US

Some still don’t seem to care.

The Caribbean is doing well

Compared to the wider world,

Contact tracing is working for us

While in the US it never occurred.

Some considered it a waste of time

But by then maybe it was,

Too many were then infected

And vaccine became the buzz.

There is something strange,

I can’t put my finger on it

But I am going to leave it at surreal

And with that I will quit.

Yea, but this is really surreal

A dream, no, more like a nightmare,

And I tell you, paranoid or not,

Some people are very scared.

Surreal is so real

Not a dream or nightmare but surreal.

Stewart Russell © May 2020

Dreaming

 

I always dreamt before I slept

In the still watches of the night,

I dreamt of how it could have been

And how I could put it right.

O yes, I would be wide-awake

As I dreamt the night away

Hearing the clock tick the seconds

Long into the next day.

My dream would be reflective

Of the opportunities I missed

And how I planned to make it up

With my prioritized list.

Often too I would live the dream

As I lay upon my bed

Wishing and hoping all the time

It would not be just my head.

I have heard many people say

That dreaming was for the night

Not to be confused with daydreaming

When at work it wasn’t right.

Daydreaming was not permissible

So I did mine in the night

When I dreamt of what could be

To blot out my real life plight.

Often too I would go to sleep

And dream the very same dream

And then awake at the light of day

And be back to the real life scene.

How I wished it could happen

Just like it did in my dream:

The dream before I went to sleep

To off set my real life scene.

For life is more of a nightmare

When it doesn’t reflect your dream,

No wonder psychiatrists prescribe

It is sometimes good to scream.

Just like you would in a nightmare

As a result of your fright,

Do the same in your real life

As you reflect upon your plight.

For the reason that we daydream

Be it in the night or in the day,

Is when the life we currently live

Rolls out in a different way.

For I wouldn’t dream before I sleep

If I were living out my dream

For then my dream would be a nightmare

And a justified reason to scream.

I was typing this at 2:43 a.m.

When no doubt you were asleep,

I don’t know the time you’re reading now

But into my life you’ve had a peep.

The times that I am awake

When you are sleeping sound,

No doubt having your real dreams

In the land where dreams abound.

We are conscious in our daydreams

Maybe just barely

But in our dreaming when it comes

We do so unconsciously.

Permit me therefore to daydream

Especially when I do at night,

In the early watches of the morning

That’s how I deal with my plight.

Stewart Russell © July 2018