Sonnet 29, a 21st century remix

 

when I’m depressed and feeling crappy

and been unfriended by those who know me

if there was a god I’d pray to him or her

but since there isn’t I wallow in my despair

I dream of winning the lottery

becoming a one percenter chased by paparazzi

a superstar walking life’s red carpet

receiving honours that make the news at six

but I’m no paragon, I’m nowhere near

self-loathing sends me into a depression

when by lucky chance I think of you

and like a tweet gone viral in a flash

I shake away the blues to sing your tune

since your sweet love is all I need, not volatile assets

 

 

David Trudel     © 2015

 

backseat windows

as a child I would lock eyes with other kids

captive in the back seats of station wagons

hurtling down freeways

or slowrolling through clogged streets

 

I would lock eyes

 

trying for some kind of psychic connection

anticipating a future meeting

hoping that decades later

our eyes would remember a moment held between us

briefly as a hummingbird’s visit and just as sweet

 

when we were young it was easy for me

 

seeing the world from inside the safety glass of the family car

innocence was as easy as unlocked doors

knowing who lived in each house on the block

and who’s mother made the best cookies

 

I thought that everyone else was as safe as I was

in those days before I knew about torture

about abuse and cruelty

punches that split skin

and the weight of undeserved guilt

 

perversions frequent as autumn rain

for too many, too young

too terrible

 

now, in this future of punched out walls

I wonder what happened to them

I try to recollect those faces

dredged images from ripped memories

some of those eyes must have been shrieking in their silence

calling for sympathy or salvation

locked in rolling hells

moving closer to the next indignity

while I worried about a music lesson I hadn’t practiced for

if I could return to those moments

I wouldn’t challenge fragile eyes with directness

I‘d look at you obliquely and offer you my passing tears

I’d applaud you for carrying on

holding your head up as you looked out at a world

that held more sins than miracles

 

I would unlock my eyes from the illusion

I would try to see your truth

not mine

 

 

 

David Trudel     © 2015

 

 

In Memoriam

now it’s forty

and there are no words

each one I reach for collapses

each memory dead ends

 

this anniversary is an excavation of memory

a miserable celebration of our past

that point in time when your future disappeared

into a dark wormhole

 

now, in this bitter today

we keep fragments of your passing

smiling at the rose-coloured glasses you wore

holding back a tear at the laughter you provoked

holding on to shadows in the middle of the night

 

I do not try to forgive myself the guilt

remembering the anger I felt

when you stood me up for lunch

not knowing you were morgued beyond appetite

 

an empty stage is all that’s left

holding echoes that no one hears

except those of us who loved you

which was everyone you touched

 

 

David Trudel         © 2014

 

 

red roses scattered

the shore a silent witness

gulls keen overhead

 

 

David Trudel       © 2014

 

 

worries

3:00 in the morning

 

alone in silence

it’s dark

 

I wake to worries

worries about myself and what I’m doing

and not doing

 

worries about those I love

and what’s happening to them

 

worries about those I know

but not well enough to love

and their troubles

 

in the dark it’s easy to worry

 

each small concern

unavoidable as a 3:00 a.m. heartbeat

 

it’s easy to worry in the small hours

thinking how big the problems are

how powerless I am

 

at 3:30

the dark deepens

now it’s worries about the wars

the earth

the rivers of blood

ignorant hatred

while I’m bothered by my lack of sleep

 

so at 3:45 I worry about selfishness

how my first world problems

are inconsequential but persistent as mosquitoes

 

I’m feeling guilty about worrying needlessly

but I can’t sleep

the silence is too loud

loud enough to drown out my heart

 

loud enough to echo in the dark

 

in the dark

where I lie awake

full of worries

about all the disappointed yesterdays

and fears about hopeless tomorrows

 

 

4:00 in the morning arrives full monty

in my face

as unavoidable as the seagull shit

splattered on the oversized bronze statue

of a long forgotten fool

who slept through his worries

until they called him hero

 

staring at nothing

it’s dark and quiet

at 4:15

 

my heart races itself in circles

until time doesn’t matter

 

all that’s left is everything that isn’t right

and that’s enough for one night

 

 

David Trudel   ©   2014

 

 

blight

it’s depressing

to think about the politics of oppression

to think about the end game of capitalism

to think about the disease we call consumerism

 

we cling to the frail hope that democracy is real

that the rule of law abides

but this is a world of failed states and states of fear

a world we poison for our amusement

earthrapers are what we are

we are a blight attacking the planet and all we share it with

there is no excuse for our cruelty

only shame

 

yet beauty persists

nature will overcome our temporary infestation

whether by anti-bodies or annihilation

the day will come when earth will be free of us

reconstituting the atoms that have been our bodies

back into nature

to flourish once more

without the hubris and arrogance that blinds us to the truth

everything is connected

in the full roundness of time

we will come again and see this world differently

as guests, not as rulers

accepting reality as it is

naturally

 

 

David Trudel     © 2014

 

 

rain

rain in the night

louder than heartbeats

pain

hard as raindrops slam slapping

waiting for nerves to sing

in the night

while the rain falls

in the dark

heart thumping

heart beating in time with the rain

in time with pain

in the night

when the heart is a round drum

leading a dance in the dark

truth in each beat

vibrating in rhythm with the rain in the night

louder than heartbeats marking pain

in the night

while rain falls louder than hearts can hear

tonight

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2014

 

 

ambiguous

some days are like that

 

what?

 

ambiguous

 

not quite a total fucking disaster

but not bad either

 

gotcha, says he

 

it’s the middle of winter

but when the sun shines

even a grey day

shows some colour

like a redwinged blackbird

on a fenceline

 

tenuous as hell

 

when its raining and cold

it all gets to be

ambiguous

like that

 

 

David Trudel       © 2014

 

 

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

 

 

Enough

Sometimes it’s enough

Sufficient

To simply experience a moment

By itself

Without thinking about yesterday and tomorrow

It’s enough

To watch dusk slipping into night

As the heat of the sun radiates from the rocks

Where you stand barefoot

Empty

Just enjoying the impossible shades of bruised violet

Unburdened

Having found tranquility

In being unable to shoulder burdens

Things that are too heavy to lift

I am no Atlas or Sisyphus to take on the impossible

It is enough to stand on this rock

Without worrying about carrying it

And through the freedom of the unburdened

Discover peace in the eternal now of a sunset

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013