One night, God came to me in a dream with a scheme that seemed to be out of this world.

He approached me and opened his robe and showed me a hypodermic needle in the shape of a pen and my first reaction was to step back fast,

But then God grabbed me and said slow down my child,

I’ve got a job for you to do.

And with a burst of light God grabbed my arm and said I mean you no harm

And he pushed the pen in and it filled my arteries

And God chartered me to write some new shit

Some true shit

Something just for you shit.

And when I was done with part one, God said write some part two shit.

He injected me with Billy’s Blues

And a muse of Langston Hughes

And God said you’ve acquired some of the tools in the schools you’ve been attending,

But now it’s time to stop pretending

And he started sending into my bloodstream the poetic feats of John Keats and the published greats of W.B. Yates.

And just when I thought God was through, he started slipping me hits of Maya Angelou

And God asked, “Do you know what I’ve handed you?”

And my response was, “No”

And God said let me show;

And he continued to fill my veins the same way he had been,

Giving me a fix of Emily Dickinson

And my blood stream seemed to scream as God gave me the liquidated literary genius of W.E.B.

And I got lost between doses of Robert Frost and my Eyes got blurry in a flurry

And I was no longer seeing ‘em, but I could feel; Emerson, Tennyson and Stevenson.

And God said, “You won’t get far without Paul Laurence Dunbar

And you can’t start spittin’ until I’ve given you Whitman

And God kept filling me and it felt like he was killing me

And I closed my arm tight and God snapped it back open and screamed,

“You are not yet ready to write. Tonight has just begun and everything’s alright my son.

You see I need you, I use poetry to teach people.

The world I created has been over-run by ignorant thinking

And I need poets to take the world back and break the curse

Now unbend your arm so I can give you one more word’s worth.”

And again the pen was shoved in my veins and God grabbed the reigns

And as if I was a mule he said, “I’ll use you as my tool and plow the field with you.

Fulfilling empty minds needs while planting knowledge seeds.

No longer will it be a flourishing time for malnourishing minds,

I want you to make intelligence a law because ignorance is a crime.

Now I need you to go, and reap what you sew

While captivating minds like Edgar Allen Poe.

I gave you the wings so now fly like the Raven,

This world needs saving.

Feel free to fight off your fears because they’ll disappear within this injection of my tears,

Which contains the remains of great things gone and new things to come, beyond the next dawn.

You’re the next, in a blood-line of greats.

You are a poet.

You command the attention of large groups, you ready the troops, for evolution.

You write words that can commend or condemn

Turn boys into men,

Make other poets push pens

And you must be about something more than slam scores based on 10,

Because You. Are. A Poet!

Think about all the great things poets have accomplished,

And when the writing gets rough, hold on to your pen and don’t drop this.

Always take time in your mind to reflect back on the fact,

That you’re the next to step forth, from a poetic Blood-line.

Written by:  Gemini

Performed by:  Miles M. ReVera

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