Fablespinners: Literature's Online Open Mic!

by Victor Om Shanti

i loves me
a tar black nigga.
but, i can't abide
even a high yaller one,
whooz assfault sticky.

do y'all know where
i'm comin' frum?

i mean, it's like,
you've just run ten miles
up de ruff side o' da mountain,
tru a blizzart of snow,
ta where all you can see ahead
is dat smooth blacktop highway.
ya jest know it's gonna be
a lazy trot to Canaan Land,
when up jumps some squat ugly
tar baby mothafucka,
sticky soft pliable,
as a 'bama two lane
in de swealtrin' hot late summa,
layin' underfoot.

but let me say again:

i loves me
a tar black nigga.
but, i can't abide
even a high yaller one,
whooz assfault sticky
gap teeth dividing darkniss
for all the world
like the center roadway line.

an assfault nigga whooz only joy
is slowin' de progress of
long stridin' strivin' Black Folk.
rapping adhesive arms
'bout dear legs,
preventin' 'em frum cuvrin ground,
all de wile empty-head parrotin'
dat it's massa, dat devil, keepin' our progress down.

do y'all know where i'm comin' frum?
i sure know where 'tis i wanna go!

but, sheet!
i'm still gonna make my own way
to dat mountain top,
jest a piece away.
'cuz in my dream
i have a vision.
ain't no pot-hole brained,
stone igg-rant,
siddity,
country in da inna city,
permanent employee grade
mutha-niggaz
gonna lead me astray!

even if i haveta travel
on ofay grey pathway.

'cuz i loves me
a tar black nigga.