Lullaby

This a poem I wrote about.... Well u figure it out. Isn't that what poetry is all about? Marcus Maximus and I put it together as a spoken word piece and he played it on KBGA last night during his Radio Dystopia show.

Lullaby
By
DeTrav

Click, click... The oily metal sings a sweet,
Quiet tune but smells like blood. We dance with
Our finger gently cupping silent end...

We love the dance but hate the music. O, sweet,
Quite freedom, we taste your honey coat
With jaundice rage center. We see the tears,
Ours and yours, as our white silence stares up.
We hear the apologies, smell roses, but
It mollifies and engraves patiently;
My siren, slow and silent, digs my home.

“Hush little baby…” we croon together
As we dance and we cry and we turn in
A giant circle. Neither one knows if
It’s a love of dance or a dance of love.
I ask the question. Empty echo sings.

…A tired finger twitches, pulling hair;
Long cold corridor heats with smoke and flame,
Pushing a train that will not stop for flesh.

Subatomic Particles

well, well. a blog. how novel, how cliche...
will anybody read...
will anybody care...
there's got to be more blogs than insects on this planet by now...
ah, what the hell. I'll give it a try...
becides...
now I'm officially a published writer...
(even if I had to do it myself)...
and all the world will come to read my work...
hello?


HELLO?

Scooby-Doo

Scooby-Doo
By
DeTrav


The same blurry cellar door, the same fuzzy kitchen table. Spinning so fast. I don’t want to stop for fear of getting dizzy. Better to keep the ear fluid sloshing around than stop suddenly and puke. Better to keep my surroundings revolving like a Scooby-doo cartoon than to stop and fall over. Must keep the rhythm.
I can feel all the blood in my head creeping towards my left eye and ear. I can feel the left side of my brain squished against my skull. I hope my suffocating brain doesn’t interfere with my legs.
Must
Keep
Spinning.
Spin too fast and I’ll trip over the carpet. Spin too slow and the nausea hyena will shred me from the inside out.
Ringing. A short burst then silence. Then another blast of ringing in my head. No. Wait. It’s coming from the table. There’s a phone on the table. I put my hand out to get it. Toe skips off heel and rhythm is broken. Tripping. Stumbling. Spiraling. The floor tilts. Left eye swells with blood and binocular vision is lost. The answering machine will have to get it.
Door… Table… Scooby-doo… Where the fuck did Scooby come from? I don’t own a dog. There. There he is again. Except this time he’s dark grey, not brown. Everything is turning grey.
The world straightens for a moment as I regain control. Then it tilts the other way. A forest of shadows ooze out from the walls and enter my eye, forcing my head to bounce off the floor.
I hear my therapist.
“Hey Joe. Just calling to see why you missed…”
The shadow squeezes my brain into coffee grounds and turns the room black.