Monthly Archives: March 2013

Blackened

First you see them as hints

They come into closer view

And you think roadkill corpses

But it’s really just another exploded tire

Kind of like online posts

Lumbering 18 wheelers who occasionally let one loose

Passing gassilly

Passing gas silly

Leaving a blackened remembrance of your passing

On the littered roadside

Blown, literally

Living on as scattered bits of used to be

Souvenirs of unfortunately

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

These Days

If these are the end times, as biblically foretold

Or just the bubble of civilization approaching its burst

From climate change

Or the breakdown of dysfunctional political corporatism

Let’s appreciate them, the end times

Let’s make love as often as possible

Let’s love these days

These rare days when everyone with privilege across the globe

Can buy the same perfect apples in air-conditioned sameness

These commonplace days of global luxuries

Where winter just means having to fly your strawberries in from across the globe

Appreciate the luxuries that may not be around much longer

Since there seems to be sufficient portents to nudge me towards gloom

Thinking doom and doomsday plots

As reports flood in of massive ice melts, methane gas releases, shrinking glaciers

While dystopian planners hunker down in pinched fear gearing up for a fast ride to hell

And failed states release terror into the shipping lanes

Failed rulers cling noose tight to power with blood red iron fingertips

Overhead strange signs appear

Like grid patterns of chemtrails crossing lines from secrecy to sin

Leaving us at the mercy of a tainted wind

Droves of us mill about in sheepled delusions

Brainwashed by selective education and finely crafted propaganda

Called popular culture

Our behaviour manipulated to ensure submission into complicity

But understanding the inherent flaws in this grand monoculture

There’s still some room for righteous hedonism on the way out

Because there is a lot to be savored in this shimmer

And if there is some apocalyptic descent into chaos

Waiting in ambush around the next bend

Don’t we owe it to everyone to use every possible pleasure to its limit

And if this scrap survives beyond whatever ultimate disaster takes us out

To be read by some far futured survivor picking up pieces

To you I say, it was fucking awesome to be alive at the apex

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under Poetry

Sculptural Pieces

Weathered rocks scoured by ice and time

Derelict trees tumbled into dreams

Ripplesanded shorelines studded by rockshreds

Swayedback barns leaning into fallow fields

Rusted ratrods posing in jumbled yards

Skylines that pull you into horizons

Jig jaggedly climbing into impossibilities

Fences marking space and time

Held up or supporting a spray of twigged greenness

Invitations of benches

Offering views into eternity

Alterations made by serendipity or intention abound

Three dimensionally textured magic

Filling my thirst for the spectacular

Wherever I find the unexpected and sublime

I smile with intention

Breathe in and send an exhalation of applause

In the general direction of found art

Or art that’s found me

 

 

David Trudel    ©   2013

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Ordinary

Most of our ordinaries aren’t ordinary

When you think about them

When you take away the context of today

Or personal familiarity

Shift your point of view away from privilege

Reconsider commonplace expectations

From alternative perspectives

Like refugee camps or cacao plantations

Where there are scant comforts and no need for glossy ads

Places where it’s ordinary to have nothing

Where the same old means starkness and struggle

Not the ennui of boredom

Where all the ordinaries grow obese

Fattened with empty promises

Spurred on through enhanced consumption of sweet nothings

Until every luxury and remarkable delight loses luster in our clouded sight

Where miracles are hidden in plain view

We don’t see them anymore

We think they’re ordinary

Common, unremarkable, usual

Extraordinary, cloaked by repetition

Extraordinary, masked by tedium

Extraordinary, muffled by a lack of imagination

Most of our ordinaries aren’t ordinary

When you think about them

David Trudel     ©  2013

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Horses At Full Moon

My mind roves

Playing through my consciousness

Like wind through the trees

Sometimes it stops and writes poetry on pine needles

Which fall to earth in turn

Composting into the floor

My mind dances as nervously as paddocked stallions

When the wind gusts warnings of spindizzy

So I am spooked as they are

At dustdevil dervishes that seem to say

Something unhinged approaches

Instead I consider the burgeoning moon

Something full for a change

No emptiness that screams want

Something that hasn’t been starved into submission

A regularity that pulls me into balance

Illuminating darkness with silver radiance

Something to settle my mind on

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

6 Comments

Filed under Poetry

Stars

There’s no need to reach for archived stars

Remember that deep beneath your feet

Lies a rumbling starbright furnace

Born from celestial light

Or look into your lover’s eyes

If you really want to experience the spark of divinity

That twinkle is just as worth observing

As historical star data

And is close enough to kiss

 

 

David Trudel      ©  2013

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Mortal Forest

The mortality rate for trees in this forest is high

Wind tumbled trees crisscross the living

Or wait patiently at impossible angles for supporters to fold

While others slip into watery rest, undercut by current events

 

Wind tumbled trees crisscross the living

Everywhere in this forest a feast continues to be served

While others slip into watery rest, undercut by current events

Trees providing the main course or serving up appetizers

 

Everywhere in this forest a feast continues to be served

Giants brought low by the lowly practicing edible irony

Trees providing the main course or serving up appetizers

Sustainable gluttony on a grand scale

 

Giants brought low by the lowly practicing edible irony

Growth becomes a seamless death that provides an active rest

Sustainable gluttony on a grand scale

As each particle transcends itself in shared sacrifice

 

 

David Trudel      ©  2013

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry