The club was jumping.
The music thumping.
Hooves on the dance floor.
The lights were glaring.
The sirens blaring.
The moment you entered the door.
From her center stage.
She is the rave.
Mistress of the table of Turn.
Come feel the dub,
In the form of her wub.
Your soul she is ready to burn.
With her coat of white.
She rules the night.
Vinyl Scratch the DJ Pony.
You are standing there.
Within moving Air.
As her beats mean she’s no phony.
Asked to Dj-Pon3
“How can this be?”
You try to call over the din.
She simply smiles,
And after a while.
It finally sinks in.
Motioning you to the booth
She beckons with her hoof.
And with a squeal you jump up and down.
She is the queen of dance
And NOW is your chance.
To study the art of sound.
The turn tables all alight
The wires are all bound tight.
It is a temple to Techno Remix.
If not a temple, maybe a pirate ship.
A dance floor crew all gyrating their hips;
Grooving with the sounds awe and pitch.
Amazed and astounded.
You are surrounded.
With the power over of them all.
And unbeknownst to you,
You can’t help what you do,
You drop that beat and feel the call.
The Dj stands staring.
Her music still blaring.
But with you fresh in the mix.
With a casual nod and sigh
She steps slightly aside,
And allows you your fix.
Now the rhythm is thrumming
Like live wires humming;
As you’re given over the control.
You look back with care,
At the rump that was bare.
Ever since you were a foal.
The shining light does blind
And you wince as it begins to shine,
To leave your flank with a mark.
The room once loud is hushed,
As to the stage ponies rushed
To gaze, and cheer, and hark.
The unicorn of white,
With purple shades to block the light.
Has such a wide prideful grin.
She then grabs the mic,
Turns off the music with an "awe right!"
And says, "Let's begin!"
You don’t know of what she speaks.
But the rose within your cheeks.
Is telling as you turn Red.
Then she points your way,
And continues to say,
"Welcome DJ," but from her your name fled
So you step up and belt it out loud.
Hoping to get a wow from the crowd
"My name is DJ Skittles!"
Thinking it is a right and good name.
Then a hidden pony calls out "LAME~!"
So to prove them wrong with the buttons you fiddle.
The song starts off slow.
With a thump-thump beginning to grow.
And to help, headphones are placed on the ear.
You now know your cutie.
To make shake those booties.
From your music they will hear.
The floors reaction is nil,
But your pace picks up still.
And your hoof reaches for the scratch pad.
With a wicky-wicky-wack
A few ponies in the back.
Just shake their heads because it is bad.
But no, wait,
Their bodies do gyrate.
Even as they fight the music.
You feed in some electro-sound
From a mix pad you have found
And a few mares begin to lose it.
The doubt is being eased
As you shut out the audience and do as you please.
Play the music for yourself.
You glance off to the side,
But still she stands there with pride.
This fountain of musical wealth.
Then from the smoke they arise,
A duo with speakers by their sides.
Ones that wish to dethrone the queen.
My beats, they come to a stop.
The dancing ponies’ swivel on the spot.
And stare at those that are mean.
Casually they set the speakers down
Plug tiny turn tables in the inlet for sound
And smile maliciously at vinyl ear to ear.
Vinyl casually raises a hoof
Calling for silence from floor to roof
And proceeds to motion for the others gear.
With a nod other their head,
The two motion for the crowd to spread
And give them room to battle it out.
The screech and the shred
Of a guitar fills me with dread
And the pair let loose with a shout.
Vinyl stands beside me
And it is easy to see.
She is not impressed by the display.
The pair that challenged her
Still play their metal dirge
Making dances heads bob and sway.
It is dub versus metal
This battle they must settle.
And now I perfectly understand.
I back from vinyl’s set up
This is no place for a young pup
For the fire in vinyl’s eyes is fanned.
I watch and once more am amazed
At the reaction this metal ponies have made
And for a second have a twinge of fear.
But after their song is done
I know it is vinyl that has won
Because from the first note; a roared cheer.
Again the queen as control
And the crowd she has stole
From these two pony upstarts
But there is no losers here
And no reason to shed a tear
Nor make a rush to depart.
Just as I got my cutie marks
Vinyl loves all the musical arts
And wants these two metal head to stay.
She motions to me to join in
And even though it was her win
She motions for the two to come play.
Now with the DJ booth of four
It is time to show the dancing floor
That there is reason to party.
We each take turns, each and all
And spin our music until the dawn
Tomorrow the dancers will hurt smartly
I turn to look at my guiding mare
The sweat beading and frizz of hair
That vinyl, Goddess of wubs.
I knew in my heart
That this was the start
When I would give to her all my love.
She shakes her head with a sad smile.
She boops your nose like a child’s.
As another rushes into her arms.
My eyes go wide in shock.
As this is no stallion jock
But Octavia, with her classical charms
In my chest; it does ache.
As my heart does break
And I leave the club behind.
The two metal heads follow suit
And they comfort me to boot.
Of my new cutie mark they remind.
“Yeah, you are right!”
I say with delight.
At these two friends I have made.
And into the mornings sun
I remember fondly all the fun
As this world gets me, one more DJ.
