Michael Todd 8

DjMyke and Little Halkios

Dj Myke's Message

I was born on June 18, 1956 in Memphis Tennesse. I have created as Dj myke, a dedicated music appreciation site in Myspace. I serve as both contact and liaison for the purpose of merging extraordinarily talented bands / artists / songwriters / promoters with a legion of dedicated, knowlegable music enthusiasts to a site that mutually benifits both factions; that is my persona. In real life, as michael, I am simply a music fan, no different from others.The Boombox

Straight forward, reliable, answers to everybody and always, loved by his friends and his readers. He carries his Boombox, a treasure trove, that talks, sings, plays the music he loves, he is his mascot and companion and his spiritual pet to his internet wanderings. The Boombox is an old radio. He is a member of the challenges of Blogophilia, The Legacy Writers of  Harmony Pub, The Diary of an Angel group in Facebook and he created his own challenge for artists called the Poets round table (you find here only blogs till 2009). 

Dj Myke is also the founder of the Poets Round Table which takes place every friday on his own blog, separating the Poets in stanzas, spreading one  unique message through the resulting verses as one poem. I created a Halkoem as a tribute, when the day the Diary arrived to his home called The Tennessee WallsI was introduced to Dj Myke and his brilliant works by Maryann Corrigan and I have read lots of his blogs in the Challenges of Blogophilia and Harmony Pub. We have been friends since early 2008. 


Here are his views on Faith, Hope and Love, the three virtues that are also represented by the Diary. The three stars on the flag of his state, the state where he comes from, Tennessee.

...ah, and he calls poems pomes! lol

Below you can find few of the poems, I made into a halkoem featuring his challenge,  The Poets Round Table, under the following links:



Halkoems for the "Poet's Round Table"

La Luna Plena  (Poets Round Table no. 29)

I think I can  (Poets Round Table no. 40)

Stars Gazing  (Poets Round Table no. 64)

Michael Todd & his feather pen

Michael's Tribute


The Tennessee Walls a halkoem ft. DJ Myke and Maryann Corrigan


{videobox}rXNOZ_xTGh4|Tennessee Walls ft. DJMYKE, HALKIOS AND MARY ANN CORRIGAN ||width=400, height=300{/videobox}


Dj Myke answered the three questions I have  given to him the day he received the Diary, three for each Fate

Clotho~ Clotho or Klotho ('Κλωθώ') — the "spinner" —, some believe if you pull on your thread hard enough you will be able to go back in time of your life. It was Clotho who spun the threads of life with her distaff to bring a being into existence. Pull the thread hard answer these questions three, look into the past for Faith, Hope and Love


Faith ~ I was raised to have faith in myself, that I was responsible for my own thoughts and actions.


Hope ~ I was encouraged to have hope there was a better life for me than my predecessors.


Love ~ I was given unconditional love by my family, and allowed to think for myself.


Lachesis~ Lachesis (also Lakhesis, Λάχεσις, "disposer of lots", λαγχάνω means to obtain by lot, by fate, or by the will of the gods. She was the apportioner, deciding how much time for life was to be allowed for each person or being. She measured the thread of life with her rod. She is also said to choose a person's destiny after a thread was measured. Measure your thread of Life and answers these question Three, measure Faith, Hope and Love in your Life.  


Faith ~ I have learned to have faith in my fellow man, as well as myself.


Hope ~ My hope for myself is only as great as my hope for my fellow man.


Love ~ I find I can not love myself unless I have love for others.


Atropos~ Atropos (Άτροπος, "without turn") Atropos was the oldest of the Three Fates, and was known as the "inflexible" or "inevitable." It was Atropos who chose the mechanism of death and ended the life of each mortal by cutting their thread with her "abhorred shears." If the thread of life is about to be cut, state the conscious part of Faith, Hope and Love, in you, to advice and share, the feelings of this Gift you have and share – Life – with us and eventualy you will leave. If finally Life is a gift and these virtues are given by the God through the fates for a reason, for each individual, because individual has a role to play in this endless woven Cloth that holds our existence.


Faith ~ The substance of all things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11: Verse 1)


Hope ~ I hope everyone can find the faith to believe with heart, mind and soul in a higher power.


Love ~ I would that all believers come to know a level of love for their fellow man that self is no longer the main focal point. This love is not to be confused with lust, or carnal thoughts of the mind, but rather, love of the heart.


They were three poems written for DJ Myke that day, fromCheryl Ann Darr aka Lady ~M ~and Halkios



All is quiet, 
everyone having fallen under night's spell;
slumbering amidst the cadence of crickets 
and the occasional flash of fireflies.
Night-song harmonizes 
with the crackling fire, 
creating a sensory experience 
of lost memories of man
as I watch his lonely dance 
around the blazing fire.

Fire paints the wall sienna 
framing his primal silhouette.
His shadow dances 
against the stone wall, 
reminding me of ancient cave drawings.
I am mesmerized by his form;
movements as fluid as the mountain stream.
Orange flames lick the night,
as night sighs in a passionate glow.
I am transported in time;
racial memory set free 
by the magic of firelight.

Cheryl Darr 2008




Echoes of axes reverberant


In the Castle of the riddles

 Strolling player of an ancient pageant, humble

 Tells the story of a fallen angel; Ridden.

 Ante meridiem call, of a troubadour of hope, faith and love

 Taps with a trembling hand the door


 Of a fortified stronghold

 A castle on the knoll not far from the land of them all

 On the dry valley of my skin, 

 Through the cracks of my wounds,


Rivulets of liquefied emotions loaf, flowing deep

 Merging with my stained blood, burning me,

 The ligatures of forgiveness not enough, staunching only my breathe

 I wandered in the forest to probe for the modest

 But I found no shelter but a desert, in which


Echoes of axes reverberant,

 Haunted me; as the forest was only of plucked up trees

 Plundered by thieves

 Cutting me of from a rhapsody I did not wish;

 But I did write;

 The damned rhythm 


(c)  Halkios 2008




Ante meridiem call


Ante meridiem call, of a forgotten troubadour 

Taps with a trembling hand, the door

 I came here,

 To meet, les chevaliers of the table ronde

Knocking on the door of the Château

Ante meridiem and after the dawn


The great door squeaked and that gave me the chills

And behold; on the front porch there was the man

Wearing a Cowboy hat, holding a box

A Box filled with sounds of all sorts

And before I even ask he said:



"What is the reason of you visit? What is that you seek?"

I came to your castle for one time and last

I cannot seem to remember who I am, who I was

I came to this Castle because I've heard that Knights know

Why I am here, why I am sole


He then opened the box and told me

"Pick up a sound" he said "that will be your key"

"Once you hold it in your palm, will grant you entrance to my kin"

"Keep the sound while you are in the castle

And sing the story of your frenzy past

Your verses will be your soul's statement,

Will open all closed doors

And beyond those doors you shall find

 All the answers that you seek there,

You shall meet, les chevaliers of the table ronde

Knocking on every door of the Château

Ante meridiem and after the dawn


Each Knight will tell you

Who you are….why you are here


This is the third stop of the Diary of an Angel,

In the Castle of the riddles

Strolling player of an ancient pageant, humble

Tells the story of a fallen angel


(c)  Halkios 2008

© All rights reserved to the poetry and writings by Michael Todd aka DJ Myke (and the Boombox)




Copyright  © 5764  / 2004. All Rights reserved to the concepts, writings, poetry, photography and video art by Halkios. All thoughts sealed long ago in a contract with the universe. No recreation of these scrolls, in any shape or means of force, is tolerable without articulate consent of the intrepid architect.