Dead and Aware of It

 

 

I have tried to imagine

What it feels like to be dead

And the closest I have come to it

Is being asleep in bed.

 

I have experienced at times

Though not in the recent past,

The consciousness of being dead

Which left me quite aghast.

 

I had not retired as yet

And was really pushing work

Such that at times when I was resting,

I would suddenly come alert.

 

It is not easy to relate

The strange phenomenon then

But my medical doctor explained

It was definitely a problem.

 

Having awaken from sleep

I would lie transfixed,

I could not even move a finger:

Even to scratch an itch.

 

It would seem a long time

But it was just mere seconds,

And though I needed urgent help,

I couldn’t even beckon.

 

Alert and very aware

But couldn’t utter a sound,

It was like being buried alive

Under a molded mound.

 

My eyes, although open

Could not even be blinked,

I was dead and very aware of it

Whatever you may think.

 

It is a horrible feeling

To actually feel you are dead

Only to know you are still alive

And very much so instead.

 

I had really needed rest:

A total shut down, in fact,

So that while I slept every night

It was deep sleep I lacked.

 

Those seconds of paralysis

Were a warning to me,

My system in responding to the lack

Prompted me to see.

 

 

 

 

Emergency shut down!

It was not all systems go,

Something was about to go wrong

And I needed to know.

 

I was repeatedly warned

And had I repeatedly ignored

This could have ended with me

Not being around anymore.

 

 

A word to workaholics:

Heed the body’s warning!

Don’t be dead and be aware of it

And yet go on ignoring.

 

Else, you may drop dead

And definitely not be aware,

Of being interred in yonder cemetery

Amidst many a tear.

 

Stewart Russell © March 26, 2025

 

God Sits on High

 

 

God sits on high

And He looks down low,

Some words from a song

That I know.

 

And He walks with me

Via His Holy Spirit

And also His Son

So, He just doesn't sit.

 

My constant companion

All along life’s way

And they never leave me

Even when I stray.

 

I used the word they

But don’t be transfixed,

God is the Father, Son

And Holy Spirit.

 

Omnipresent in the Spirit

Revealed by the Son

And he bids the penitent

Unto Him to come.

 

Who, in no wise

Would He ever cast out

And from my experience,

I haven’t a doubt.

 

“God sits on high

And he looks down low”

Can be more than a song

When to Him we go.

 

He is a real experience

Not an imaginary illusion

For, very unlike the world,

He is not a magician.

 

His miracle is for time

And eternity too,

Not for just a split second

Like magicians do.

 

A momentary thrill!

The offer of this world

But God’s gift is eternal

Like He says in His Word.

 

Served up on a cross

Two millennia ago,

His only begotten Son

Whom I now know.

 

Crucified and buried:

A testament that Jesus died,

No trick or scheme

Like magicians hide.

 

He rose from the dead

And he ascended on high

And he is coming again

Just like he prophesied.

 

He has prepared a place

Where? I don’t exactly know

But wherever he is,

There I will go.

 

To be with him forever

Never to leave,

This is the assurance he gives

To all who believe.

 

Now God sits on high

And God looks down low

And the Holy Spirit leads me

In the way I should go.

 

Stewart Russell © February 15, 2022

 

My Phobias

 

 

I have some serious phobias

One is the fear of heights,

No big thing for you I guess

But for me, that’s a fright.

 

That’s the reason why

I am happy with my height,

I do not have a fear of falling

If the ground is close to sight.

 

Don’t ask me to climb

Even the shortest of ladders,

Trusting those shaky things…

Well, that’s a different matter.

 

 

A child once knocked his ball

Right on top of the roof,

Only when he had gone home

I determined to face the truth.

 

I reluctantly got a ladder

And up to the roof I climbed

But at the top I stood transfixed,

By then I had lost my spine.

 

I just could not step off

Too afraid that I would fall

So because of my acrophobia

I could not return the ball.

 

So many times I’ve dreamt

Of being some place high

And just when I am falling

I would wake up with a sigh.

 

 

It’s not my imagination

And it’s not just in my mind,

Heights make me feel dizzy

Each and every time.

 

Perhaps, you too have a fear

It may not be of heights

But whatever it is, I know

It causes you quite a fright.

 

 

I am also claustrophobic

Therein lies my fear of dying,

It will be a colossal problem

Getting me in a coffin.

 

Worst than that is the burial

Covered up with all that dirt,

Suffocating in so much darkness

That, I must avert.

 

So If I do not stay down

You would know the reason why,

It’s my claustrophobia at work

Even after I die.

 

 

My final fear is this

It’s the fear of the unknown,

However, I am not unduly worried

Since in that I am not alone.

 

I have given that to Jesus

Unlike the other fears

But I am a work in progress

I just hope, to you, that is clear.

 

Stewart Russell © July 2019

 

Transfixed

 

 

Hey, watch me!

See how fast I am moving?

You may think I am stuck here

But really, I am grooving.

 

What you think you see

Is not what is happening,

You perceive I am motionless

But I am actually moving.

 

A lot of trans going on

And in some cases, legally so,

Woman today and man tomorrow

Never mind the pappy show.

 

The law is about trans too:

Trans from sense to nonsense,

But I just want to be who I am

And I mean no offense.

 

Just like you want to be you

Leave me as me, please,

Transfixed you can call me that

And I don’t mean to tease.

 

I really fear for our children

Especially the innocent ones

For by the time they grow up

Reality will be gone.

 

 

Trans-reality will be rife

Nothing will be wrong or right

Absolutes will have disappeared

No difference re day and night.

 

Two plus two will be whatever,

Ten minus six will be it depends

And a thing may be laying down

And at the same time upend.

 

Me? I will be transfixed

Meaning what that really means,

Motionless, even hypnotized,

Not as some may deem.

 

Transfixed as in spellbound

At the nonsense going on,

Not trans-present as in while here

But yet still I am gone.

 

 

“Your honour, it was a man”

“But how can you be sure?”

“He was bearded and muscular,

Need I say more?”

 

“Not forty years ago

But surely in this modern day,

For back then a man was still a man

Even though he was gay.

 

Everything is changing,

Even transfixed means moving,

Transman is really a woman

And this is really confusing.”

 

So, see me? I am transfixed,

Meaning definitely staying my ground,

I have the reality that up is up

And down is truly down.

 

It used to take a magician

To confuse one’s reality,

Now it takes an elected politician

To legalize one’s stupidity.

 

I repeat, I fear for our children,

Especially those at risk

Who being robbed of their childhood

Will continue to drift.

 

Called on to make decisions

As though they were already adults

And the nature of these decisions

Is nothing more than insults.

 

 

Exposed to a biology

That in no way relates to science

And a proposed family structure

Viewing the Bible in defiance.

 

I frown on this scholarship;

This so-call scholarship it seems

That seeks to uphold human rights

And yet human life demeans.

 

Transfixed, I call this poem

To play on the popular trans

That has an entire world fascinated

As the LGBTQ executes its plans.

 

Here is a call from me to you

To remain resolute and fixed,

Transfixed may be a tad confusing

But you can focus on the fixed.

 

Stewart Russell © June 12, 2023

 

Confused and Bemused

I woke up or so I thought

For I might still have been asleep

Whether up or down I couldn’t tell

So I neither walked nor ‘creep’

I neither stayed nor moved

Transfixed on my bed betwixt

Between deep sleep and wide awake

I was surely in a fix

How long there I couldn’t tell

Probably exactly an hour or two

It was less than one and more than two

Before my reverie was through

Up I looked to see what was down

And outside to view what was in

Next I laughed till I almost cried

Be serious; I am not joking

The clouds sailed on the ocean blue

The waves high up in the sky

Fish were birds; the birds were fish

And this reality I couldn’t deny

I knew I was not sleeping

For after all, I knew

Were I asleep I would not know

That false could never be true

Awake in a dream you would argue

And then laugh and go your way

Smart psychiatrist you think you are

But you’ll have yours some day

What a fool you really are

But you think that you are smart

You are no smarter than the next fool

So keep that deep within your heart

You and I live in an upside down world

Where abnormal is the new norm

What you and I knew to be wrong

Is now packaged as the more informed

  

Two of the same can cohabit

It’s neither here nor there

It’s just a matter of preference

And once the two really care

Absolutes have diminished

And some believe there are none

And what used to be a tragedy

Is now generating fun

Some say up side down yes

But this time right side up

They awoke or so they thought

But ours is a bitter cup

But now there is preferred taste

And the awful has become sweet

A confused and bemused mind

Knows neither victory nor defeat

Zombies too come awake

But they are neither here nor there

They too know not where they are

Nor from whence they did appear

Whether up or down they cannot tell

Themselves they cannot feel

But they are feared among the wisest of men

And those who believe they are real

Do you still feel that I am weird?

And you are different from me?

I’ll tell you this; better mark my word

And you’ll see just what I see

This world is steep in follow pattern

Sense is not critical you see

Once an important person says it

Prominent it will be

Soon the world absorbs it

The exception is just a few

And what we once held as acceptable

Is now contrary to our view

Before I should conclude this, though

To that state I shall return

Not that I had left you would concur

Nothing appears real or firm

I woke up or so I thought

For I might still have been asleep

Whether up or down I couldn’t tell

So I did neither walk nor creep

I couldn’t walk; no confidence had I

I didn’t creep for fear of the unknown

My narrow confines was a tiny bed

That was the limit of my zone

Up I looked to see what was down

To me they were one and the same

And so I laughed until I cried

For I was one among the insane

The world around is a hospital

Full of the mentally deranged

So smart we feel in our condition

That we hail it as paradigm change

I know I have mashed some corns

But my toes also feel the rub

If you feel the offense as much as I do

Then welcome to the club

Stewart Russell © 2016

God’s Magnificent Best

 

 

Standing on the beach

Looking across the sea,

Feeling pleased as punch

As on a bun I munched.

The sun was sinking low

Setting the water aglow,

‘Twas a splendid sight

As the sky came alight.

My eyes held to the line

Separating sky from sea,

My mind on its accuracy

Showing God’s ability.

Artists try to illustrate

The beauty that they see,

But always falling short

Of God, His Majesty.

Yes, I was overwhelmed,

This work of the Supreme,

Captured my entire being,

This feast my eyes had seen.

 

It was absolutely fabulous,

Not that I could be a judge

Of the handiwork of God,

My eyes won’t even budge.

I stared in trapped oblivion,

I could not look away,

The view held my attention

There at the close of day.

I was frozen by its beauty,

In my mind I heard a voice,

Have your eyes seen better?

“No,” was my spoken choice.

My greatest desire that time

Was to be truly locked away,

With this rich phenomenon

I was viewing from the bay.

Then I attempted to analyse

This scene before my eyes,

I was aware of my limitations

And struck by God’s creation.

 

The many rulers it would take

To draw that straight horizon,

And the steady hand to make

It flow with such precision.

I thought of those great artists

Who then and in the past,

Had painted many a sunset

But this had all outclassed.

No doubt these artists too

Had given God much praise,

When in one such moment

Their eyes on a sunset gazed.

The colours were resplendent,

Their numbers I couldn’t count,

They cascaded in the ocean

And form a magnificent fount.

Even as the ripples danced

In the gentle evening breeze,

I stood transfixed in a trance

My attention God had seized.

 

Suddenly I wanted to scream

“God, you are so very great!”

But I contained my ecstasy,

Allowing reason to dictate.

Again came the inner voice,

“Must you dissect everything?

Won’t you ever understand

How much there is in listening?”

This was not for examination

But simply for me to enjoy,

I had wasted time in analysis

Now I felt like the errant boy.

In a moment the sun was gone,

The spectacle had disappeared,

And with it that thing of beauty,

At which I could no longer stare.

I knew I had missed that moment

When the sun had slipped away,

I had been caught in my analysis

That had worked to my dismay

But in my depths of solitude,

That voice had said to me,

“That’s not my magnificent best,

For that, just look to Calvary.

That was a sunset too you know,

The disciples sure thought it so,

They too had missed the beauty

Of the blood for sin that flowed.”

God’s Son was on that cross

And for our sins He did atone,

‘Twas such a glorious sight

And Jesus did it all alone.

For God so earnestly desires

To paint upon every heart,

That picture of the Saviour

Today you should let Him start.

Just view that greater Light

As you gaze upon that scene,

See where Jesus hung in agony

There, you and me to redeem,

At his back was the sinking sun,

God’s Son silhouetted in its light,

For the disciples a horrid sight

But God was displaying His might.

Many have wondered at this

And have called it a mystery,

In the midst of apparent defeat

God had painted the victory.

Jesus cried out, “It is finished!”

Many thought it was the end

But the painting was that sunset

Before the sunrise God did send.

  

“That was my magnificent best,”

God said, the painting yet unfinished

Was marked “to be continued”,

As the Light would be diminished.

This sunset was really not about

The sun’s departing radiance,

But was meant to be the herald

Of the Son’s uprising brilliance.

God’s magnificent best was no sunset

That adorned that evening sky,

Rather, it was the life that Jesus gave

As that Passover evening drew nigh.

Good Friday evening and Easter Morn,

The sinking sun and the crack of dawn,

The crucified Jesus and the risen Christ,

All speak of the Lamb and His sacrifice.

Stewart Russell © 2014