Monthly Archives: October 2013

ghosts and demons

my ghosts and demons are not dressed up in cheap costumes

looking B movie extra ready

my zombies aren’t privileged youths indulging adolescent fantasies

in my world demons wake you up at 3 in the morning

haunting you with labyrinthian thoughts of debts and closed doors

or arrive in recycled grey envelopes from the taxman

with impossible demands to pay them twice the amount of your last refund

my ghosts are the second guesses

regrets that hang like spanish moss

or Miss Havisham’s tattered bed curtains

in my world we’ve shuddered at thoughts of an unwanted pregnancy

where masked reapers harvest the stillborn

snatching happiness from cradles

there are no doorbell ringing hobgoblins here

in my world they make pre-emptive strikes

exploding you with tricks like crumbling bodies

and sixteen kinds of crazy shit a day

in my world we see through masks to skeletal truths

held together by abstractions, chewing gum and thought ghosts

so if you are wondering why I don’t appear to be into Halloween

its only because its something that sticks around all year

tricking and treating unceasingly



David Trudel     ©   2013





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siren calls

sirens tear open this day

softpillowed dreams crumpled

pinned by each imagined shriek

flying up from blood soaked gurneys

remembering that we are seconds away from a 180

recalling acute pain and trauma shocked eyerolls

focusing on the ambulance ceiling

not quite able to disassociate

tethered by a thousand nerves to now

I listen to cries that I’ll never hear

feeling empathy for the agony of strangers

torn from their routines into the brightness of disaster

as I lie awakening to reverberations of machine screams

wondering about final moments

about what’s behind the next door

and if I should get out of bed

to dance with sirens



David Trudel     ©  2013



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remember that time

when it was all about

he said she said

remember that time

when the members were unattached

and needed remembering

to exist


that time and this

into and out of memory



David Trudel            © 2013



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skykissed, the earth seems shy

muffled by a ragged net of condensed cloud

everything goes quiet


earlier it burned off

now it rolls in off the straits

leeching colours and shortening views


each drop holding a cemetery scent of early dawn

when spirits slide sideways into the melt

each drop a stitch in the shroud


this fog sleepwalks through empty rooms

while shadows punch slivers of distraction

into softsilvered rivers


each drift a tangible intangible

never quite in reach

never quite vanishing


floating wordlessly

with all the effort of nothing

drafting tailwinds of an idea



David Trudel   © 2013



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this was not what I expected

not that I knew what was

around the corner

that presented itself with sharp angles

because there are no soft curves


no easy exits

or ways to leave out the back door

this is it

this is looking

into a cold light

into reality

into your own heart

when the defenses come down

into the unexpected

around corners

where every angle is an exit

or an obstruction



David Trudel  ©   2013



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I like your honesty


your words tumble

like the code to a lock

that has bound my heart

too long


walking beachmargins in moonlight


between here and when

when I saw that sideways



I meant healing from hands on


if I could give myself up

and you give yourself up

we would have each other


into a declarative moment

David Trudel   ©  2013

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