Stop Immediately!

 

 

If I heard a command

To stop immediately

I would expect the speaker to be

Someone of authority?

 

For example: a policeman

Or military personnel,

A school principal or teacher

Or some warning bell.

 

It’s an urgent command

Implying serious fallout

And this, if the recipient persists,

Would be without doubt.

 

Who would dare disobey

Someone with a gun

Unless he was fast enough

A bullet to outrun?

 

So, stop immediately

Speaks to authority

And that authoritative command

Implies great urgency.

 

I saw a popular evangelist

Blow COVID-19 away

Yet this pandemic is still with us

Up to this very day.

 

His was a stop immediately

That did not materialize

Since COVID is still with us

And not even in disguise.

 

Even with children

“Stop” is losing its weight,

Far less the "immediately",

They’d rather suffer fate.

 

 

One PM to another PM

Regarding a war declaration,

“Stop immediately!” that PM said,

But without recognition.

It was like Jezebel’s prophets

When they prayed to Baal

But Baal did not hear them

So, it was to no avail.

 

The “stop immediately”

Must from a greater power come

Or else it will be meaningless

And nothing will be done.

 

Immediacy and authority

Tend to go hand in hand,

Greatest power is proportionate to

Quickest heed to command.

 

One very popular pastor

And also, another well-known one,

Combined their double anointing

To quell the LGBTQ storm.

 

Another “stop immediately”

That did not make a difference,

The LGBTQ’s effort has not lessened

And definitely not their intent.

 

 

So, a “stop immediately”,

Must be from high up on the list

Of power brokers in the world

To pull off a “cease and desist”.

 

Do note my cherished reader

I have not mentioned any names

So, read this poem as it was written

And none of us will be blamed.

 

Stewart Russell © July 31, 2023

 

Nobody En Know

 

Nobody en know

But yet she telling me,

Maybe she telling me

Nobody but she.

 

Nobody en know

But she knows

When you talking to a bajan

That is how it goes.

 

Nobody en know

You see what I mean?

Only she knows

That is the scene.

 

It is like the Bible

That we talk about

But nobody en know

Yet loud we shout.

 

If somebody tells you

Nobody en know

It means dem en nobody

Cause them know.

 

Only this morning

I had this same situation,

Nobody en know

Came up in a conversation.

 

The person was adamant

That nobody en know

Yet became quite passionate

To prove this was so.

 

“I do not believe,” she said,

“It could not have been”

“Oh, there is no way”

Only she knew, it seems.

 

 

This particular incident

Was about Christ’s birth,

Nobody en know

When he came to earth.

 

“Shepherds in the field?

Not in winter they won’t,

Definitely not in December

No, surely, they couldn’t.

 

You Christians just talking

But It was not so,

Just listen for a minute

And let me show I know.”

 

Nobody en know

Seldom includes the speaker,

Everybody else is shallow

But she goes deeper.

So next time you say

Nobody en know,

Nobody, and that includes you,

Should also be so.

 

You don’t know

That nobody en know

Because you don’t know

What everybody knows.

 

Stewart Russell © December 3, 2020

 

 

The Art of Saying Nothing

 

 

 

There is music and dance

There is drama and art,

There is theatre and mime

All playing their part.

 

The limbs are employed

And the vocal chords,

There is comedy and tragedy

Commoners and Lords.

 

The speechified moments

Of oration and rhetoric

Combined with the musical:

Calypso and operatic.

 

They all have their values

Some high some low

And they make a statement,

That’s why we go.

 

We come away with the feeling

We got value for money,

They all said something

And we all agree.

 

 

But there is an art form

In which nothing is said,

There is much innuendo, though,

When between the lines is read.

 

It is prominent in the church

And in Parliament also,

For different reasons of course,

And that we all know.

 

He preached for an hour

But I can’t tell what he said,

It was the art of saying nothing

And I’m not that well-read.

 

Many speechify in Parliament

In a passionate flow

But Hansard will reveal

There is nothing to show.

 

The art of saying nothing

By clergymen and MPs

Would make a great title,

Don’t you agree?

 

 

I am reminded of a time

When in the House of Commons

A famous orator waited patiently

For the Speaker to beckon.

 

The presenter was boring

And his listeners fell asleep,

All except this famous orator

Who was next to speak.

 

Finally, the opportunity came

And he calmly said that day,

“Thank you, Mr. Speaker,

I too, have nothing to say.”

 

Perhaps the shortest speech

By a politician anywhere

Coming after the longest speaker

That had nothing to say.

 

It is an art form

That is so unlike the others

That many are mesmerized

And this is the bother.

 

“O that was a great speech!”

What a lovely word!

And I sit back and I wonder,

Are they absurd?

 

The art of saying nothing

And they really mean it,

This art form has been perfected 

Merely through habit.

 

Stewart Russell © October 20, 2021

 

 

The Ayes Have It

The ayes have it; it is clear to see

That is the evidence of the vote,

The nays had their chance but the ayes have won

Let the record duly note.

A convincing argument though lacking substance

With loud voice and booming sound

Aroused the slumbering, befuddled voters

Though nothing of essence could be found.

What an enlightening presentation

Punctuated with questionable stats!

But given the oratorical skills of the speaker

The majority registered them as facts.

So the vote carried as we thought it would

Since the vote was really for the man,

It did not matter what he had said

To give him the nod was the their plan.

The ayes have it; the nays have lost

It’s a win for democracy,

From the people of the people by the people

Here is a man of integrity.

Offering to serve this people

With whom he once identified

Having once lived among them

Qualified him fit to apply.

And so the ayes once had it

But now he cannot see

For what the ayes have has blinded him

To his own misery.

Now self-made and a law unto to himself

Having parallax vision and a myopic view,

Clearly a case of the “I” disease

And how to fix it, not a single clue.

Yes the ayes have it; they got their man

Though he no longer cares about their plan,

Applying to serve he now wants to be served

His so-called service is only a sham.

Parallax vision and short-sightedness,

Yes, the ayes have it with their distorted view,

Misstep after misstep with nary a clue

Now a hodgepodge of misfits makes up his crew.

So all must suffer, the ayes and the nays

And even those of the in-between,

The ayes always have it even if they’re wrong

For they are the ones presiding over this scene.

No balm for the eyes weary and strained

No temporary restraint or ease,

Having made our bed in it we must lay

“The ayes have it, yes that dreaded disease.

Stewart Russell © May, 2017