Monthly Archives: May 2013

Beauty

Beauty doesn’t have to be framed and hung on gallery walls

Or stuck on pedestals and plinths in public spaces

Real beauty isn’t manufactured or reinterpreted

It exists in quiet forests

When the sun hits raindrops beading on spider webs

Like translucent pearls

Or in the glittering waves of surf rolling onto shores

Even city streets provide bold openings

I see masterpieces everywhere

In those around me

In the way that eyes seek other eyes

And hands reach out for other hands

Moments of tenderness quietly observed

We can all choose to see life unfold in splendid mystery

Revealing each layer of truth

Through the beauty of the day to day

Watching ordinaries become extra

In the radiance of love transcendent

Everything is beautiful

With the right perspective

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Hope

I am in hope instead of love

Having signed away my proxy

For that treasured state long ago

I can no longer remember

What I thought it was

Or from which idealized fiction

I learned purported truth

All I know for sure

Is that I keep hoping

For stirring crescendos

And reciprocal obsession

Living in hope of happy endings

New beginnings

Unrealized for now

Maybe tomorrow

I’ll fall out of hope

Into love

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Sweatshops

I have worn team colours in the past

Becoming cloaked in corporate identity

Giving away autonomy for crowd acceptance

Fitting in

Becoming a proxy for a marketing strategy

Where boardroom fictions based on superficial studies into buying habits

Create reality

Reality that echoes the worst excesses of selfish greed

When textiles were made with the blood of children mixed into cotton gins

And even Factory Acts failed to halt the exploitation of the poor

We thought we were better than our forebears

In our industrial self-righteousness

When union shops paid living wages

And workers could afford the products they made

Until the owners closed the factories

Shipped them overseas

Replicated the conditions of early 19th century Manchester

In countries far away

Countries that have no qualms about spilling blood

In support of commerce

So that marginalized westerners who no longer have factory jobs

Can afford cheap clothes at big box stores

Ignorant of the bloody fingerprints that are sewn into each label

Uncaring that everyday low prices reflect everyday absent ethics

And a high tolerance for suffering

So we buy products we don’t really need

Made in places that we’ll never see by fingers that we’ll never touch

Not caring that those fingers lie buried in rubble

Crushed by profit margins and unleavened greed

Victimized by the impersonal message of capitalism

That values money more than morality

And quarterly earnings more than souls

 

 

David Trudel   © 2013

 

 

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Puddles

IMG_0078There are forests in puddles

In the forest when it rains

 

If you resonate inside reflections

Slipping past surfaces to inside out

 

Find a perfect oblique angle

Jump with intention

 

You’ll fall into the sky

Of the upside down

 

If it turns out you don’t

Splashing in puddles is always fun

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

Image by the author, taken with an iPhone 5

 

 

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Trauma

Branch snapped

Ladder went sideways

Then down

Time slowed

Pain exploded

 

Consciousness separated from body

 

Accepted experience

Felt each screaming nerve

Neural pathways commuter crowded

Acceptance cushions shock

 

Screaming sirens

Sweet sounds for the wounded

Gurney bound

Ride was sweet

 

Hospital staff show empathy through efficiency

In pain, found trust

Shed fear of the unknown

Reality takes away the hyperbole of the imagination

 

One instant

Ripples into future states

Immediately changing

Everything

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Guitar

Softly, he played his guitar

Not for me or anyone else

But for himself

Riffing on jazz themes

Smiling in amusement

As his practice made perfect

Sense for a grey day

Sliding through gentle waves

A wash of sound cleansed the air

Resonating as deep as ocean

Ephemeral as a seagull’s cry

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Accountability

The bigger the bureaucracy

The more likely it is to proclaim accountability as a virtue

While strategizing secret ways to avoid scrutiny

At least for senior staff

At the same time imposing enough checks on the system

To stall innovation and creativity

Building a culture of the risk averse

Where project plans proliferate

Subject to constant revisions

Which are only approved after the work is no longer needed

And the original planners have left

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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Half Smile, Squared

 

In the complex simplicity of a half smile

When someone assumes someone’s discussion

 

You plot the course of a narrative

The four winds of the ocean’l find the enigwa

 

That sings mystery and allure

           

To know you take me mulch further, first draw midnite out

 

Promises mutually assured seduction

In and out of the adore that May’ll bumbasheer in obsession

 

Hints at boredom and ennui

           

Buttoned onto a how about it, kind of wheel-wzz got out of what mind to observe it!

 

Foreshadows betrayal

 

It’s rush at, Like a woman the jewel is dying with

 

All in the moment our eyes lock

           

It’s top-dollar-holler high in the hands jewel and factuulum at clutch

 

In a loaded look between us

And say’n, hollow?

 

Without a single word

Cold you take me jewelries handing how its abdomen underlane our rovering hell to who out-bungee I again landing your bicupcyucle!

 

We know

 

            Too adhere at what upper-woods the take further, listen to when, at wait and said comes as me closer to the giving-eye thrust to lot the skins

 

 

David Trudel   and Dave Taylor   © 2013

 

 

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Half Smile

In the complex simplicity of a half smile

You plot the course of a narrative

That sings mystery and allure

Promises mutually assured seduction

Hints at boredom and ennui

Foreshadows betrayal

All in the moment our eyes lock

In a loaded look between us

Without a single word

We know

 

 

David Trudel  © 2013

 

 

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Becoming

Everything that ever was

Still is

Everything that ever will be

Is present now

Matter is irreducible at the smallest level

But it keeps changing

Transforming

Shapeshifting

Moving

Our bodies rebuild themselves

Over and over throughout our lives

Organic life is all a process of becoming

Even the rocks we stand on are absorbed and eroded

Beneath the thin crust of the surface

A crucible of fiery creation mixes new recipes

From ingredients that never grow stale

Each fragment carries memories and dreams

Points on a wheel

That keeps turning

David Trudel   ©  2013

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