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

 

Which Me

  

I woke in the middle of the night

All sleep gone from my eyes,

I started to do some thinking

And up came surprise after surprise.

I became fully alert

To a life of sham and lies

As to my horror I was stripped

Of disguise after disguise.

It can become quite amazing

When we discover who we are,

Not one or two or three persons

But sometimes more by far.

It is just like theatre

Or better still, Hollywood

Where at different times we showcase

The indifferent, the bad and the good.

Always seemingly on a stage

We are seldom being ourselves

But projecting some other person

We find on our library shelves.

Too petrified to be me

Ordinary, simplistic me,

I would rather be someone else

Like a genuine “wannabe”.

Yes, like an original counterfeit

Talented and unique,

Not an old piece of furniture

But more like a modern antique.

Not who I was yesterday

Or even the day before,

But by constantly reinventing myself

I won’t become a bore.

So that when it is required

For the real me to stand

I can draw from several personalities

That can meet your demand.

I can be “all things to all people”

To satisfy my greed,

Sorry about that little slip up

I really meant my need.

It is a Hollywood experience

And tantalizingly so,

When I can choose from so many fakes

To put the real me on show.

So from my repertoire of me

Which me do you want to see?

I have with me a great selection

Each one, a genuine “wannabe”.

Be careful the me you choose

It may not be me,

It may be someone else

Just pretending to be me.

Stewart Russell © September 2019

Relishing the Absurd

“Up the creek without a paddle”

A saying you must have heard,

Like in the midst of life’s huge ocean

Being guided by the absurd.

“The Emperor’s new clothes” is another:

Stark naked but fully dressed,

It’s what I want so don’t you bother

I am not having any stress.

It is sanity and madness

Profanity mixed with gladness,

Why should my pursuit of euphoria

Cause you such grief and sadness?

All for me and I for me

It’s what I want that matters,

There are all of you but one of me

And all that matters is the latter.

Up the creek without a paddle

Now fast approaching the fall,

For a while back there it wasn’t so bad

Now nobody answers my call.

Amidst the tumult of the rapids

My raft rocking to and fro,

About to be jettisoned any moment now

Experiencing the “I told you so”.

I did not listen, just like the world

I saw it my own way too,

The fall approaches and I am doomed

In spite of all that I knew.

Warning after warning came my way

But the pleasure was such a balm,

Up the creek without a paddle

But everything appeared to be calm.

No compass or guide except the urge

To please me and only me,

Around me, the entire world revolved,

Surely everybody could see.

Who needs a paddle when all is well?

Who needs an oar or governor?

Not me at that time but surely now!

Now I am facing such horror.

Acceptance of death instead of life

Was the choice of our fore-parents,

The gift of life is on offer again

But the majority refuses to repent.

We are not very bright; it clearly shows

The lessons of life we do not learn,

We will make it without God above

And His grace we will continue to spurn

So, we are up a creek without a paddle

And we feel all is well and good,

We have no idea of the approaching fall

For we are not seeing as we should.

Charmed by the glitter that grabs our gaze

The unreal obscures the real

And, severely distracted by Satan’s ploy,

Unheeded goes the Spirit’s appeal.

A little bit more till I have had my fill

To be saturated being my intent,

Just a little bit more while I have time

When I have had enough, I will repent.

Up the creek without a paddle

May have been the issue in the past,

But now being tossed in the foamy rapids

Speaks to a far more humongous task.

The state of our world is so similar

As men seek to satisfy their urge

And with every passing day, we note,

Enormous societal ills emerge.

Packaged in a so-called golden wrap

To bamboozle the least suspecting,

Exchanging the peacock for the feather

Refusing life and death accepting.

Stewart Russell © September 2019