In these echoes
Of fin de siècle somnolence
We wait in apprehension
Of the next great conflagration
When we wake up
Again
After it all
It will seem so quaint
The way we live now
In such fearful security
Balancing the knife edge of
Civilized barbarism
Against possibilities of miracles and magic
With one hand on technology
And the other placed above your heart
All you want
Is one more day
Of normal
One more day
Until it starts
David Trudel © 2013
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as anthropocalypse, apocalypse, blank verse, creative writing, creativity, end of the world, end times, fin de siecle, free verse, metaphor, middle east, poetry, Syria, war
I heard that it’s raining at the North Pole
Which seems about right these days
In this world that’s been pulled inside out
It’s getting weird and all fucked up
I don’t usually use words like that, but really
What can you say about the poles melting
About a world gone mad
Where crazy people massacre innocent victims with assault weapons
And redneck conservatives who think they’re religious
Defend their right to do so
It’s all fucked up
A nation founded on liberty and justice for all
Doing a 180
Into tightly controlled security
And arbitrary arrest and detention
While their President, who taught law at Harvard
Authorizes state sponsored assassinations instead of arrests and trials
What happened to the rule of law?
It’s all fucked up
This is a world where even the frozen hearted northern queen
Unthaws and weeps at what we’ve done
While corporations misapply copyright law to steal our genes
And declare fresh water superfluous to the common need
This is a world that spends more time
On vacuous entertainment and spectator sports
Than on education and creation
This is a world that celebrates hate and divisiveness
And calls it democracy
It’s all fucked up
The good guys never were good
Except at publicity and keeping secrets
So now they’re freaking out over the leakers
The truth tellers
And it’s like a highballing truckdriver who’s just been bit by a wasp
Swatting madly in the cab
Hurtling through the night
Towards midnight and an appointment
That I would much rather those assholes didn’t keep
But they’re the ones driving this rig
Elected officials and their corporate masters
Leading us into unmitigated disasters
Bastards
So yes, I declare that it’s all fucked up
In this world of miracles
Where some of us live in paradise
But most just live in hell
And hell is coming to everyone else
In apocalyptic fury
Sweeping away what meager defenses we thought we had
On the wind or the tide
Or the turn of the screw
It’s all fucked up
David Trudel © 2013
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as blank verse, climate change, community, creative writing, creativity, depression, disasters, dystopia, end of the world, end times, environmentalism, equality, free verse, inspiration, metaphor, poetry, social activism, social commentary, social welfare, storms, truth
sepia toned
we woke up sepia toned
not drained of colour but transformed into shimmers
light lays flat
yellowed as yesterday’s bloodied sun
slipped sideways on a once upon
we call each other asking
“do you see it too?”
and words like apocalypse
like endtimes, like otherworldly
fill our mouths as the sky fills our thoughts
later, waiting for the ferry
I walk the beach up to and under the dock
crosshatched shadows feed the noontime reek of creosote
triggering memories of campfires
then all I smell is the smoke of a carbon sink
a million trees candled in the wind
a burning world
riding thermals down every seaward valley on the coast
until each wave pushes another dragon under
we try to laugh about how strange it looks
as the sun reddens its shroud
today is marked in black
this is the year when winter thins its cool
no matter how golden the sky seems right now
or how wonderful splintered light appears slipping through ashfall
this is no celebration
this is not the same as other years
when autumn slashpiles streamed pendants
today is amber
a moment to hold long enough to remember
how startled we once were
David Trudel © 2015
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