Tonight, the air is fresh and there’s icicles throughout the wind.
The moon is bright, and something is headed for impending doom.
Black tar oils its way through our inner cavities.
What comes next? The creature ponders
For the prickled feathers that stem from your flesh
are lime green with orange racing stripes
Your bug eyes black squeaky clean
Down to your sharp teeth that are Oh so mean
Gulping down your meal like a savage beast
I threaten you by yelling please desist
but you’ve chomped on his bones leaving no one at home
trampled by where the buffalo roam.
No death is not a motion picture.
Stop! right there.
Cause your reading from a scripture.
Cam's Art 
This line of yours got my attention:
Black tar oils its way through our inner cavities.
What comes next? The creature ponders
what exactly inspired you to write this awesome poem?
New blog check it out.
Pain can only wax illusions
http://charliezero1.wordpress.com/2012/12/10/pain-can-only-wax-illusions/
I appreciate you reading. I typically like to write a poem before I start oil painting. Which is what I do for work. So before I start I will write whatever is on my mind and “Black Tar” just happened to come out. haha. Hope that makes sense. I’m excited to read your post.
You’re sense of creating and perfecting your art is truly natural and soothing for many eyes and ears to listen to.
New blog check it out.
Pain can only wax illusions
http://charliezero1.wordpress.com/2012/12/10/pain-can-only-wax-illusions/