Undefined

I am undefined

I do not borrow an identity along with an occupation

The masks I’ve worn to collect paychecks are never permanent

The whereness of my location is accidental

Even as I care about the land I steward

I am not a neighborhood or a place on a map

My markers are all proxies and approximate

I am not a category to be boxed with precision

Or measured on five or seven point scales into a fixation of order

I am not my genitalia

Neither penile nor labial

My essential being transcends the limitations

Of your labels

Even my eyes are just a temporary covering

My opinions are fluid

I march with an army today that I will overthrow tomorrow

I look and listen for new information

That rearranges my understanding of this existence

I give myself to the mystery of eternal creation

Not to the fearful faith of the unimaginative

I resist attempts to declare sides

To coalesce into one thing

When another seems like a shifting possibility

I am not a definition or a singular role

I roll with anticipation into newness

Or circle back to tread the same path with new shoes

And if I carry my history within each point of consciousness

I also carry the potential and possibility

Of all the undone actions that might have been

Or are yet to be

I will not answer when you ask me who I am

I am not a singularity, just a wave’s crystalline vibration

I do not believe in binary worlds of black and white

But in the magic of becoming

I flirt with post quantum transitions

Into the nothingness of the unlimited

Undelineated into excessive space

Where I remain undefined

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

Alone

We are all alone

Unique, in our perceptions

Which live inside our minds

We can never really share the intensity or depth of colours

In rainbows that arc across each others sky

Even if we agree on names for what they are

 

It’s been said that in ancient Greece

There was no word for green

Yellow was yellow and blue was blue

There was never any need to hold them up to each other

They managed to build a civilization

Without a word and a concept we take for granted

Perhaps we should be envious

 

Really, colour is just a clever way for our brains

To display the electro-magnetic spectrum

That radiates from everything

Until we slip under the covers with dark energy

Playing footsie with the inverse of brilliance

Getting primal in the dark

Finding spaces inside spaces

Slippery spaces

That curl over and under

Until you just have to grab on somewhere and push

Frictioning a fractioned feeling into being

Which can only be described and never shared

Beyond the boundaries

Of our imaginations

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

Posted

Wrapped in an envelope that thickens and thins

Fractured thoughts slide unlettered

With limitless potential

But lacking the certainty of conviction

Slippery and elusive as dream fragments

That seemed almost tangible at dawn

Before dissolving into the unremembered compost

Within this skin

Stamped with life’s toll and addressed to fate

Dancing through a series of brilliant non sequiturs

Waiting to be received, opened

And read by an adept

Fluent in the tongue of impossible ambiguity

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

Stranded

I try to be transparent

Open and authentic

But even as I windowpoem feelings and my life

I realize there’s more wall than window

Around me

 

I sequester a wealth of possibilities

Cutting back and trimming thoughts

Suppressing inner dialogues that might embarrass me

Or someone else

Or reveal my shortcomings

 

So the windows get shuttered

 

I remain alone

In the confluence of the stranded

Wanting to be more than fearful

Wanting to explore the far shores of joy

But I find myself barely able to open the blinds

To let light in or to let others see within these walls

Through narrow openings of dubious transparency

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Inadequacies

I am at ease with my words and all their inadequacies

That barely express my half formed thoughts

Shredded memories and momentary reveries

It doesn’t bother me that only a part of what I want to say gets through

From somewhere between my ears through my fingertips to you

Knowing that I can touch you with an emotion

Push a button or create an impression is a powerful thing

Even if it’s only an echo of what my mind is trying to shout

Still, I am happy enough in the attempt

To try to convey a truth or truthfully create an illusion

So I share what I can

With weathered words on roadsigns to other places

Promising a destination of sorts

Somewhere up ahead where I’ve mapped my own steps

With the comfort of being at ease with my inadequacies

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Sovereignty

My sovereignty is my own

Beginning and ending at bodymind borders

I rule my own mind and no others

There are none I swear fealty to

In some medieval ritual of submission

What limited control I have over my physical body

Ends at my extremities

And if sometimes I can influence others

Control is not anything to aspire to

Since I’m busy enough keeping myself in check

Unruling the anarchy of my mad thoughts and contradictions

It is enough to be my own master and slave

Never abdicating responsibility for my own behavior or attitude

Or subject to the tyranny of others

My sovereignty is my own

A limited kingdom of singularity

Despotic in self-discipline

Seditious in errant thoughts

Creating my own ceremonies with serious amusement

While my ego breaks down into strutting courtiers

Who pander to baser instincts and shiny eyed pride

So I leave off building castles

To build self awareness

And cloak myself in goldclothed tranquility

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013