On the Brink

 

On the brink of a new month

Another almost fade,

When compared to last year

Have you a better grade?

 

Should I answer honestly,

I really could not say so

But perhaps you have done better

Only you would know.

 

It’s not I haven’t striven

But most years go the same,

The downs will sometimes rule

And often the ups will reign.

 

It’s a roller coaster month

That happens every time

For me, it permeates the year-

Roller coaster is my kind.

 

 

It’s the pattern of life

Seemingly, on the brink,

Something is always promising

And that’s how I think.

 

A feeling to give up

And a drive to never quit,

One can’t be going all the time

Sometimes we have to sit.

 

Consistent reflection

And constantly projecting,

Strengthening that which remains

And needs protecting.

 

On the brink, I dare say,

Need not be precarious,

It could be something spectacular

Or something very precious.

 

July is almost ended

With all its highs and lows,

Its roller coaster breath-taking journey

Is almost at a close. 

 

It will be remembered

And this, for a long time,

An event that was low and yet high

Was the first of its kind.

 

 

On the brink of disaster

Just before it arrived

But over the precipice many went

And a few no longer alive.

 

Hurricane Beryl came

And took so much away,

Her voracious appetite drove her

And she had her say.

 

She has gone away

But her damage is left

Along with her many lessons

If we are not deaf.

 

On the brink again

With vital lessons learned

Hopefully to be put into practice

In the next sojourn.

 

This sojourn is August

Of which we’re on the brink,

Let not July lessons go to waste-

Swim lest you sink!

 

Stewart Russell © July 31, 2024

 

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