Birth of The Poet

“Who dares disturb my slumber?”

The boom rattles me to my very core

as the thunderous rumble threatens to tear me asunder.

But, I refuse to reveal the fear that has bored

itself deep into my essence.


It seems that ever since

I began this bond with my pen,

I’ve been scraping and peeling

at this onion that the masses can’t comprehend,

and…it’s a shame, because I have a feeling

that after this encounter, staying the same


is what they’ll wish I did.

“It is I, a poet. DJ is the name,”

but something gives away that I haven’t ditched

every false aspect of me. I was still ashamed

of that which I can’t seem to hide


from this being. As I recognize the curious desire

of present company, its patience fades

and continues to withhold that I wish to acquire

due to my spurious claims.

It starts to thin and freeze the air.


“What do you fear?” I merely stared.

The all-knowing silence that follows

as I gulp and swallow was everything compared

to the legends told of this hallow


spirit. I tried not to feel it,

but a compulsion forces me to confess

or I’ll just stay in this mess due to the limits

I’ve established, encouraging an eventual regress-


ion in my development. “Fine,” I said, I lose my dreary

composure and admit, “my name is David.” An eerie

shiver runs down my spine

as this divine creature entwines


with me and, now, I can channel my misery

as it seeps into the delivery of my poetry

as long as I consume the leaves of these poet tress

carefully planted by my fusion with this Chaotic Entity.


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