tree song

needles on each dancing branch

pull keening sounds from the wind

singing regrets that they can’t fly

like empty exiles

doomed to restlessness

each sound a friction

between immovable and unstoppable

wistful and beautiful

as silhouettes of trees against the night

rooted into place

but longing to take flight

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

Dionysus for dinner

I had Dionysus over for dinner

it was a disaster

he seemed so nice on the internet

posting all these great memes with classical metaphors

we became Facebook friends

messaging back and forth with ribald wit

which should have tipped me off

I assumed he’d evolved

become a 21^st century hipster

heavily invested in the wine industry

holding a controlling interest in all the Ecstacy sold at all the raves

a bankster druglord

a modern god

but no

instead, suburban calm was disrupted

to the point where the neighbours all came out to gawk

holding smartphones over their heads to record the spectacle

as Dionysus arrived by chariot

not just any chariot but one pulled by lions and tigers

roaring in frenzied exaltation

some old dude with a beard was with him

I thought it might be Willie Nelson at first

but he belched, said he was Silenus and pointed over my shoulder

I turned around

up the block came a group of half-naked hippie chicks

well, it seemed that way

right out of fucking Woodstock

flowers braided into their hair and dancing just out of reach

of a bunch of randy old goats

flashing shocked onlookers with penile magnitude

impossibly proportioned

they tore through my house

grabbed all the wine

a bottle of brandy, the gin and vermouth

even the hidden bottle of 18 year old Macallan

it all disappeared

they found my stash in the drawer upstairs

gone within seconds

boring! they chorused

they dragged me along

back out and back onto the street

they started playing a reggae tune

that I knew but had never heard before

I danced with them

shedding all self-control

partying through middleclass suburbs

subverting those who looked interesting

emptying their basement bars

sparking up herbs liberated from mancaves

freeing souls from polite restraint

until the goats had their way

the dogs began barking

as middle-aged wage slaves screamed their release

of a lifetime’s fear and repression

while we drained every bottle

until the only thing left to find

was sleep

I woke up on the front lawn

snuggling between one of the hippie chicks

and mrs smith from down the block

the paperboy was nudging me with his foot

it’s almost dawn, he said

still night for another moment

I replied, with a wink

 

David Trudel  ©  2014

dreampeace

peace and serenity

found only in dreams

dreams warmed with immediacy

warmed with feelings

feelings that recede against a tide of anxiety

pulling in sad waves of lost loneliness

becoming thunderstorms and crashing waves

in chorus with the light of a full moon

in chorus with the lightness of hummingbirds

remembering castles and cathedrals

since replaced with forests and open skies

remembering listening to Neil Young for the first time

when the sky was reflected in bluebells

before it rained sadness

before many roads turned into one

beckoning with promises hidden just ahead

the way an adolescent dog surges ahead on walks

following scents and senses

while the wind plays arpeggios overhead

while it becomes peaceful enough

under a blanket of serenity

to find a dream

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

A Moment

Buskers on a busy street

I unflow from the crowd

Static against marchers and sideways walkers

Finding peace inside a throng

These two are musicians

Playing a neverending medley of eclectic tunes

I watch as crowds turn into individuals

A woman in a sundress catches my eye

We exchange a look

In which I pay homage with a smile

She accepts my offering with its twin

Disappearing around the corner

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

Gratitude

Today I declare gratitude

Thankfulness for life

For being here in this place of privilege

For what limited freedom I enjoy

I am grateful I can choose my own spirituality

My beliefs are my own and not imposed

By frowning arbiters of mythological excess

I am grateful to the women that have spurned me

Leaving me space for universal enjoyment

Gifting me the time I would have spent

On worrying about your affection and your desires

I am grateful for the beauty of nature

That unfolds around us daily

I revel in the wonders of this web of life

Smiling as I uncover each unread volume of the divine library

I thank everyone who has ever smiled at a stranger

Or given freely from a threadbare pocket

This is such a wondrous time to be alive

When thoughts and dreams are interchanged

Across the world at lightning speed

Where knowledge grows organically

Even in the face of repression

I am grateful for the resilience of the oppressed

Who are strong enough to heal publicly

Becoming leaders for the lost

I am thankful for irrepressible music

Pervasively bathing us in harmonic resonance

I thank the artists who reinterpret truth

With inspiration and dedication

I raise my hands in praise of caregivers

Who reach out with compassion and generosity

I am grateful for all the love that has come my way

And for those I have been honoured to love

I give thanks

To all the forces that conspire to unlonely the affliction of despair

I am grateful

Just to be here

Understanding that now

Is a reflection of forever

And for that I am eternally happy in my gratitude

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Playlist

As I listen to these songs I can’t stop myself

From trying to uncover the sub-text

Not of the songs

Although that’s part of it

No, I look for meaning in the choices and order

A few new ones

Mostly older

Here and there a song reminds me of the old minivan

And mixed cassette tapes

Others might be lucky guesses

She couldn’t have known the significance of that throwaway hit

Or how it resonated with me when I was twelve years old

I listen to these songs

Decoding references to years past

Declarations of independence and gifts of discovery

Until I’m able to just listen to the songs again

Which I do

Again and again

 

 

David Trudel   ©   2013

 

 

Dies Irae

“Day of wrath and doom impending,

David’s words with Sybil’s blending,

Heaven and earth in ashes pending”

Translation by William Josiah Irons, 1849

 

Dancing through this paradoxical paradise

As heaven and hell keep cutting in on each other

We listen to the universal song play out

Basso profondo to soprano and all the rest between

This cosmic tune speaks volumes but matters not

Except to guide us to the dies irae of finality

A judgment on universal mortality

And if we feel trepidation as the final chorus sounds

Let’s remember that rapturous transcendence

Is part of the final arrangement

So let the grim foreboding of annihilation pass

Concentrate instead on the glory of the forgotten chord

Strummed into being at the moment of creation

Resounding still inside us all

Inside the quiet of a sublime mind

In the look that passes between lovers

Or the gentle touch of every mother

So when the final trumpet blows

Embrace the sound of truthful joy

Let it lift your spirit and your self

Into the moment of reward

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

Memory

Do you remember

When it was transformational

When music pied pipered us

Into a sociological world view

 

At odds with conformity

 

At odds with authority

 

Just so

 

It was hot time, summer in the city

It was big birds flying in the sky

It was patchouli oil and Acapulco gold

 

As we wandered through

Labyrinths

Listening and observing

Ultimately deciding to side with the offside

 

Holding to the beat

Of the untamed

The wild

The beat

Listening to wild beats

Among the beasts

 

We were wild and untamed

Watching

Worlds constrict

Even as the beats began resounding

Sounding

The beat

 

We waited

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Little Brown Rooster

Little brown rooster

Sings the blues all day

Calling for his little hens

Singing that he wants to play

He struts and dances

They dance away

Little brown rooster

Sings the blues all day

Little brown rooster

Sings the blues all day

As nighttime falls

Things fade to black

That hen house is hopping

Like a jumped up Cadillac

Little brown rooster

Don’t sing the blues at night

He’s too busy dancing

With those hens and getting tight

Little brown rooster

Don’t wake up at dawn

He only gets up at half past jazz

With a quiet kind of yawn

Little brown rooster

Sings the blues all day

Little brown rooster

Sings the blues all day

David Trudel  ©  2013

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