Don’t Get Me Wrong

Don’t get me wrong

I love written word





Cerebral ramblings of mystic thoughts

Works of beauty

tiny pieces


Set forth just so

on a page

Or a screen

Written solo

Read solo


But then we come to the Spoken


Spoken Word

Spoken Word

Spoken Word

Where auditory channels are opened up by some kind of poetic stent

Unblocking those clogs

That threaten the heart

And where we don’t need no stinking bypass

This is where we jump off the high cliffs into glacial water

This is where we bungee jump


This is where we say

Shut the fuck up, assholes


Listen to truth

Listen to lies

Doesn’t matter which


Bathed in a benediction of sacred ideas

As random as the rain of shit of the pigeons at St. Mark’s Square

On the pilgrims beneath

Raining down like caustic bleach

Stripping away false pretense

Ideas cobbled together with stale gum and broken string

The flood of words

Erupts like fire over ice

Torching neurons

Then, in a flash

I’ll disappear

David Trudel      © 2012


Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Don’t Get Me Wrong

  1. Love the flow and energy in this. If you fancy tagging it as sociological poetry would be nice to see it in that feed..

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