By Simon Russell
Key Themes: poetry, mania, madness, hospitalisation, recovery
He was born with a hole in his soul.
A hole that rendered him vulnerable and weak. A hole that made him constantly search for the unattainable. A search that would prove deadly and leave him, early in his life, emotionally, financially and physically crippled.
With better understanding, an earlier diagnosis and different treatment perhaps his and many other souls could have been saved.
Hole in my Soul is a collection of short poetic stories that tell of the devastating effects and consequences of his illness. It asks questions of society and its leaders, so corrupted by large corporations, that it treats disease, conflict and poverty with such ignorance and disdain.
Hole in my Soul is a rallying call that exposes the ills of modern society and encourages readers to rise up and pressurise for a change in priorities that will better serve the global community.
About the Author
Simon Russell was born in 1959 in South London.
The youngest of four children in a middle class family he was privately educated and until his illness overwhelmed him in his early thirties he had a highly paid and rewarding career as managing director of several well known brands, a wonderful home and a loving and supportive family.
Inexplicably and piece by piece over an agonising and frightening 15 year period this all evaporated. In the latter stages the pace quickened with periods of mania, madness and hospitalisation.
He has now turned to writing in an effort to rebuild his own life and to draw attention to the issues of mental illness. In particular to improve public understanding, to encourage early diagnosis and to increase funding into research so as to identify more successful treatment.
Simon would welcome any comments on his work.
A lion roars.
A lion fights.
A lion snores.
A lion bites.
A camel plods.
A camel chews.
A camel nods.
A camel phews.
Join them as one,
And you have a Camelion.
As I enter the world of Psychospace,
My brain and body no longer in place.
The final kick that hurls me out;
Happens so fast, no time to shout.
When I first arrive it’s an amazing feeling.
Freedom, fulfilment and sexual healing.
King of the world, master of the universe;
Solutions for everything, however perverse.
No time for sleep, there are people to meet;
Got to spread the word and tell of my feat.
The answers are there to everyone’s prayers;
Sent to earth down the ethereal stairs.
Tearing around fuelled by adrenaline and dope;
Preaching to the unwary, delivering false hope.
As the hours pass and the story is told;
Worry sets in, paranoia takes hold.
In this place there is no illusion;
My mind is not deranged, there is no confusion.
The power fades, the reality dawns;
My space is invaded by the devil’s pawns.
Psychospace is a place where I feel;
Happy and strong and up in heel.
Everyone says ‘you must not go again’;
One of these trips you are bound to be slain.
But it’s ok for them, they have not been
To Heaven and Hell and seen what I have seen.