Black Tar Elegy

WHEN THE WORD EXHAUSTING JUST DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT, I GET PEN AND PAPER AND BEGIN TO WRITE. 

BLACK TAR ELEGY

Tap tap tap. Keys move—now they’re still. Drizzling words, hollow, haggard, and shrill. Crestfallen, woe-begotten, it’s that time again, when paper and pen write—goodbye—to yet another black friend. 

Black tar babies born to black mothers, beaten and chained by friendly white “brothers”. To quell the pain, anguish, and sorrow, I’ll tell my tar babies the tale of tomorrow. For now a fake Yoel our stories overheard, and wrote our tar babies with his monstrous words. 

Black tar babies come into time and space. The minute they enter that’s when you give chase. Lock them in cages and mine them for powers. Parrot their phrases and subtract their hours. 

The giant bald eagle Narcissus, his name. Cursed now to worship at his own altar of shame. Hollow his heart and violent his collar, murdering tar babies for the almighty dollar. 

And yet it is you, my dying black friend. You were the reason for my paper and pen. Another black beauty has said their good night. Another black soul has turned out the light. They leave behind a smoldering cauldron—a burning black soup—a bubbling maelstrom. To shake off the talons, grotesque vulture’s hold, that kneels hard on necks, and feeds on black souls. 

I pray you sleep well my kinsmen and friends. Pray now for us too, to stand resolute till the end. To decimate structures of ashened supremacy, and spread far the word of our black tar elegy. 

by: Planted Black Prose
 

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