Monthly Archives: February 2014

snowmen bleed out

flooding paths with memories

smiles return to earth

 

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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raindrops ripcord

into snowflakes stuttering

frozen hearts thaw

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

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bad faith

bad faith has led to this place

the transept holds a draped table

where lawyers pulpit

rights, titles and historical truths

dressed in split hairs

ritualistic applause marks each voice

concepts like terra nullius  lie uncovered

offered up like original sin by unholy courts

whose collective guilt bleeds

as red as maple leaves on white fields

empty spaces left uncoloured

unoccupied by truth

condemned by greed to be torn away

from those who can’t exist

in this place

where faith has been rocked

by fraud and lies

culture quarried and stripped

left for dead

still, there are heartbeats

that call like drums

ascending

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2014

 

 

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tethered wind surfers

fly plunging between currents

lone footprints in sand

 

David Trudel   (c) 2014

 

 

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against darkness

the flashlight beam freezes

snowflakes dancing

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2014

 

 

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Fuck You Saint Valentine

one day I’ll run through the mall

shouting Fuck You Saint Valentine

patron saint of the beautiful, the privileged

you’re a tease, a fiction

spreading hope, packaged passion

 

Fuck You Hallmark cards

perpetuating a myth of receptive possibilities

promoting expectations

one phrase at a time

 

Fuck You Harlequin Romances

happy endings all tidied up

measured passion

not the snarls of our lives

 

Fuck You Hollywood

avalanche of romantic comedies

soundtracks swollen with strings

when all some of us hear is the croak

of Tom Waits at two in the morning

 

Fuck You Saint Valentine

glossing over the childrens’ labour

sweetly boxed

 

Fuck You mall wanderlings

I’m tired of happy passion

animated Barbie and Ken dolls

buying underwear for each other

 

Saint Rita!

patron saint of loneliness

of forgotten causes

a saint for the chronically alone

a saint without P.R.

 

So Fuck You Saint Valentine

I’m over your sweet promises

I’ll plead my case to Saint Rita

on her feast day I’ll take myself out to lunch

and I won’t be disappointed

 

 

David Trudel    © 2014

 

 

 

 

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spill

there will be beauty in the midst of terror

when light reflects a swirl of colours on the tide

perversely echoing the stained glass of cathedrals

finding one more reason to pray for salvation

not for us

but for the innocent

when greed and complacency foul the ocean

when tarballs creep across tidelines

carpeting creation with black death

ending stories rooted in the beginning of days

a sacrifice to human commerce

papered press releases will talk about dispersants

and highlight spill response teams

until their stench masks that of the dead

seabirds and seastars

and everything else

there will be beauty darkened

by a mask of bunker fuel

or bitumen or toxic sludge

beauty will be found in our tears

saltwater spills running down black cheeks

as we grieve one more assault

one more acceptable risk fulfilled

in service of insanity

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2014

 

 

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