Moored to Oneself

 

 

To what are we moored

In this pluralistic time

Where everything seems relative

And jelly is spine?

 

No difference, it seems,

Between sand and rock

And one can pass for the other

Like dress and frock.

 

Nothing is steadfast

And we just float around,

Same difference, some would say,

Whether up or down.

 

To each his own reality-

That’s how he sees it,

No reference point or benchmark

Informs his habit.

 

Moored to myself

Makes me feel free

And it really does not matter

If I drift aimlessly.

 

No beginning, no end,

All one continuous bend

Riding the world’s merry-go-round,

World without end.

 

No reference-point

Nothing by which to gauge,

The entire world is just a stage

And I am its sage.

 

It’s me and me alone

Accountable to only me,

And my truth is as good as anyone’s

So, set me free.

 

 

 

Nothing is absolute!

Bear this in your mind,

One man’s freedom, my friend,

Is another’s bind.

 

It’s nothing topsy-turvy

If it works for me,

I am the centre of the universe,

And I am free.

 

My beauty is my beauty,

My truth is my truth,

Thus, my values are my values

And I am my proof.

 

My reason to be here

Is my own purpose,

It has nothing to do with anyone

Hence, it is just.

 

The survival of the fittest?

Call it what you may,

This means of all there is, I succeed

While all beside me fail.

 

 

 

I am moored to me:

Distinctly myself and I

And don’t you dare try to change me;

Don’t even try.

 

And so, I present to you

The world’s dilemma,

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

And each book its cover.

 

Thus, all things of beauty

But no distinctive beauty,

No benchmark by which a judge

Can perform his duty.

 

Many varying values

But no moral plumb line,

Morality and immorality are the same

Together combined.

 

 

 

A myriad of truths:

Yours and mine and theirs

But no truth by which to measure

What is just and fair. 

 

Different purposes

But no defining purpose

That rightly informs all of humanity

On his return to the dust.

 

From dust created He us

To dust we will return

And the sooner we understand this

The more we will learn.

 

God is the only absolute

By which all can be measured

And to ignore His divine blueprint

Is to miss life’s treasure.

 

Truth is at the top

Forming value and beauty,

Out of these emerges our purpose

That informs our duty.

 

 

 

Moored to the Rock

Though adaptive to change,

For to be moored to oneself

Is to be deranged.

 

Stewart Russell © September 17, 2025

 

Okay Careful Now!

 

 

I am not who I am

I am someone else,

What you see is a projection-

I am not myself.

 

I am not what I am

I am something else,

So that what you see is not me

It is something else.

 

Remember Flip Wilson?

What you see is what you get?

Face value can be misleading

Leading to regret.

 

Judge not a book by its cover

Or look a gift horse in the mouth

For given today’s technology

That roar might be a mouse.

 

Nice hips and whatever else

May not be what you think,

Look before you leap

Over the proverbial brink.

 

 

Not a high pitch tone

But more like a base?

Okay, please be careful now,

This could be a trans case.

 

Taken for granted

Could result in pain,

What looks like a donkey

May well be a Great Dane.

 

What God has created

Man attempts to manipulate

And often when he has finished

It is more like mutilate.

 

Switching out genitalia

Through multiple procedures:

Woman becoming man and vice versa

With altered features.

 

Leaving God’s basic template

And becoming rather queer

Yet, pressing for recognition

In all that is fair.

 

Multiplying the genders

And, exponentially so,

As to how many there are

I really don’t know.

 

They refer to science

Especially of the medical type

And on the erroneous

They mount their ongoing fight.

 

They grab at straws

And create obvious strawmen

But society at large

Don’t see a problem.

 

Children are disadvantaged

But haven’t this always been?

Single parents and adultery

Are still on the scene.

 

 

Human rights and equal rights

Must be accorded to all

Regardless of whatever gender

By which I choose to be called.

 

Reform the social construct

Reform the education

Reform the Constitution

And make abnormal the norm.

 

And what a great people

We would all become

For the feeling I have within

Would get any job done!

 

 

No absolutes, please!

Let everything be fluid

For in the absence of the absolute

Everything is relative.

 

Sounds like a plan?

One that can really work?

Well, whether we believe it or not,

It’s the view of the so-called experts.

 

Stewart Russell © February 1, 2023

 

Defining Blindness

If God calls it sin

And you see nothing wrong

Then you are blind

No matter how strong

This has become

The problem with the world

Man’s views have taken over

He despises God’s word

Everything is relative

Philosophers argue even truth

Two opposites can be right

They will supply the proof

There is a little truth

In every lie

That makes the lie truth

That you can’t deny

There’s a bit of a lie

In every truth

In that that truth is a lie

There’s ample proof

Sounds confusing?

Well to me it does too

But quite a lot of folly today

Becomes a point of view

Depending on who says it

It could be true

Truth has become dependent

On whose point of view

If the majority says it

Then it can’t be a lie

There is truth in numbers

That you dare not deny

There are lies in the Bible

And that is God’s Word

Another point of view

That’s not quite absurd

There’s however a need

To put that one right

In the Bible people told lies

I trust you see the light

There is no truth in a lie

Other than to say it’s a lie

And no lie in the truth

How ever hard you try

Truth is absolute

And it has no relatives

Very unlike lies

With varied alternatives

The benchmark for truth

Lies in God’s Word alone

Jesus is the way

And his Word sets the tone

Opposites can’t be truth

At one and the same time

To argue this

Is to confess you are blind

To argue that sin is right

Is to have no light

That is acute blindness

What a terrible plight!

Stewart Russell © October 2018

Smoke Screens and Mirrors

A myriad questions

With no forthcoming answers,

Queries aplenty

And a whole lot of banter.

Nothing reliable

Or even remotely dependable,

Just living from day to day

Dreading the foreseeable.

Truth receding light disappearing

The way further is obscured,

Holding on to uncertainty

We’re abandoning the assured.

Exchanging the proven

For the fleeting stubble and hay,

Embarking on more frivolity

Each and every passing day.

Trusting the temporal

As though it were eternal

And forging a unity

Re: the normal and abnormal.

Nothing is absolute

Hence everything is relative,

For every pain or problem

There is generic sedative.

It doesn’t solve anything

But it is certainly soothing

And for a little while longer

I can still be grooving.

A swaggering show of courage

A mere pretense for sure

Exchanging context for pretext

Nothing less nothing more.

Like the biblical character

That built a house upon the sand

Knowing there was no rock

But still expecting it to stand.

  

For we are not really blind

To the reality of our day

But perhaps if we close our eyes

It will probably go away.

For what we see is there

But what we do not see is not

Hence the reality that we ignore

Is consigned to our blind spot.

It may exist for you

But it definitely doesn’t for me,

I don’t see the way you do

I form my own reality.

“Smoke screens and mirrors”

Has become the way of life

I think it’s just a feather

But you believe it is a knife

It would probably cut you

Me? I would just be tickled,

So while you think you’re normal

I really think you’re fickle.

So anything can be true

Once enough people believe it

And if they believe it long enough

It would probably stick.

Be careful what you pretend

It may become your reality,

Blame it on Hollywood I say

And also the University.

For the brighter we get

The dumber we are becoming

And God is being relegated

To the foolish that is living.

Number me in that group

That believe God’s Word is True,

Foolish I may appear to be

But I see much better than you.

For I see things as they are

And not as I want them to be,

The other way is blindness

That’s a person that cannot see.

Jesus can open blind eyes

One day he opened mine,

If you do not have this experience

I would think now is the time.

Stewart Russell © September 2018