Monthly Archives: September 2012


Funny, isn’t it

How negative emotions

Strong feelings

Become adrenaline fueled body rushes

Which have the power to turn digits

Into wild animals that crawl over the keyboard

Like skittering scattering cockroaches

My breath gets shallow as a sports fan’s mind at playoff time

I try to regain control like a swami

But I’m no eastern mystic

Some buttons can’t be unpushed

Those cockroaches need to crawl back

To their dark corners

Before tranquility returns


David Trudel  ©  2012


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Words cascade like flowing lava

Tumbling in a red hot fireglow

Out of a parade of mouths that strain




Subvert and shock,

Not that anyone here

Shocks easily, this room resists tectonic movement

These poems come crammed full of ideas


Inner truths

Self-loathing and


These words spill out overflowing

Like a broken levee spilling turgid water onto sodden streets

The more the better

Jam packed

Into impossibly long poems read from a single page

And I think that the font must be pretty fucking small

And their eyesight must be damned sharp

For one page to contain this jambalaya of wordfeast

While what I set down on my pages is sparse and spartan

Graphically arranged

Where phrases and words all need their space

And the space between the spaces informs the composition

While these chatterbox beat fiends fly paper kites in the light of the moon

Powered by the breath of a muse

These poems arrive in rhythmic cadences delivered

Naturally as a vaginal birth

Or pulled protesting from the womb in c-sectioned blood

While dilated irises betray the nervousness and fear

That shake fingers clutching just too tightly to a page

These lines explode over our heads like fireworks on a summer night

Briefly illuminating our dark thoughts and secret places

Synapses firing like bullets over Damascus

Punctuated by gentle heckling and raucous rebel yells

Roaring applause

Snapping fingers

Table thumping

While the red hot stream congeals into rock

A rock that will be mined and crushed and used for

Ornamental landscapes



Recalling the fluid past when rock was molten

Flowing in tongues of fire from the crater into the night

David Trudel  ©  2012


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35 Hours

35 hours

Down a long road

Is what I’d need to cure this pain

Across the water

Through the rainforest

Rolling hills

Mountain passes


Careening down divided highways

Bridging this great divide

Stopping only for fuel, food

Sleeping at cheap motels that hum

With the throb of 18 wheelers

35 hours of swallowing miles

To swallow my heart

Which seems to be in my throat

Or on my sleeve

This condition won’t respond to ace inhibitors

But needs a laying on of hands

To cure

Hands that are

35 long hours away


David Trudel   ©  2012



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Long Horizon

There is a long horizon

Under the waxing moon

Pale rising

Over the city beneath me


Amber lit avenues

Gridscape through the trees

Ten thousand points of light

Prick the darkening gloom

While I search that long horizon

For a straight line

To you

David Trudel  ©  2012




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This thought is launched like a guided missile

Aimed at your heart

Its accuracy is precise

The effect devastating and immediate

Over a thousand miles away

You survive its strike but your complacency is shattered

Even as your own thoughts

Are sent on their retaliatory mission of

Mutually assured




David Trudel  ©  2012




Filed under Poetry


No double entendres

No beaten down bushes hiding our true thoughts

Our words come uncloaked



Our words harmonize

Verse to verse

Voice to voice

Direct and true

Compelling as the night’s full moon

Pull of the tide

Our words conspire

Pulling us forward

Along for the ride


David Trudel   ©  2012





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Forget the wine

Forget the day

Forget everything that

Crept up to this moment

Flesh on flesh

Eye to eye

A life within a sigh

You urge me on

Like I do to you

We race like warriors

No quarter given

Simply driven

To exceed what’s expected

So we do

Until we lie satiated


Full and empty

Waiting for resurrection



David Trudel  ©  2012


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Maybe I’ll never touch you

Maybe we’ll never meet

But tonight we’re together babe

Tonight when we’re asleep

‘Cuz I’ll meet you in my dreams

Tonight when we’re asleep


You send me all those messages

You send me all those posts

I like you on Facebook babe

And I’d like you here tonight

But you are long away and unattainable

Even though it feels so right

Tonight when we’re asleep


So maybe I’ll never meet you

Maybe we’ll never meet

But tonight we’re together babe

Tonight when we’re asleep

And tonight I reach out and I hold you

With my words and with my mind

Tomorrow is a promise

We will answer, both in kind

David Trudel   © 2012


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Dreams are doorways

To so many possibilities

Some touches are ephemeral, barely felt

But imbued with weight nonetheless

Longing conspires with desire

To add gravity to attraction

To settle





David Trudel  © 2012



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Half-moon rises in twilight sky

Pulling halfway crazies in tow

As the year turns, spirits shake loose

From sepulchers and hidden halls

Slipping into the frosted light of dusk

Sliding from time to place and place to time

In time and out of it

Placed and displaced

Disturbing wobbles of another dimension

Not quite in focus

But enough to set the dogs barking

Hackles rising

As they sniff that faint whiff of sulfur

Crackle of ozone

As I too feel the ripple of the veil

That shades our world


David Trudel  ©  2012



Filed under Poetry