by Blackspeare

I sat under an old oak tree 
And that old oak tree
Poured its heart out to me

Sap ran down its bark
Like tears
As it told tales
Of how devils do dirt at dark

"My arms ache"
It cried 
And it reached down
To show me its bruised branches
Where ropes tied tight
Hung niggas for the night
And how the black blood
Absorbed into the bark
And mixed with the sap

It showed me its roots
That were singed
By devils doing dirt at dark
As they burned black bodies
Like sacrifices

And that old oak tree told me
How it could no longer bear fruit
For it was poisoned by piss
And whacked by axes
From devils doing dirt at dark

"But through it all"
It explained
"God gave me a strength
That no axe could cut through
No fire could burn"
Then that old oak tree fell silent

I felt warm sticky sap
Slide onto my neck
And I just sat there
In Natures serenity
And pondered 
In the dark

Blackspeare ©1999
You can see more of the author's work here.

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3.20 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."