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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Hard Times

(HARD TIMES) A SEXCAPADE
THE SOUNDTRACK...
http://m.youtube.com/watch?list=PL24cV6IIynraS1Pekb_J3843Aj-Dh9Gea&v=IFwiRu_hCU8&feature=plpp

It was a Friday and I was at "Hard Times" a club on Alabama Street.
I was at my table... You know the one in the corner.
Always got to sit with your back to the wall and your eyes on the door when you roll like I do.
I rolled a blunt...
Sensimilla... cause that's how we do it.
Me and my crew.
I saw her when she came in by herself.
She was so fine I remember thinking Oh she's here to meet someone and I dismissed her.
That's what you do when you roll like I do.
Money no object and that goes double for a woman.
I lit my blunt and leaned back in the chair as people walked by and gave me dap, bought me drinks which I didn't touch.
Some of these motherfuckers weren't friends and I don't trust motherfuckers anyway.
Bitches will drop some shit in ya drank.
The lights on the dancefloor painted patterns on the floor and the walls as the music thumped.
Clairmont the owner came over and dropped a stack of hundreds on the table and he took the seat next to mine and leaned over and said "I appreciate what you did Idren" Clairmont was a Jamaican and I did dirty work for him.
Mainly enforcement but other things as well...
I was the weedman round this way but I had my hands in other pots as well.
His fine ass wife came over and kissed him on the cheek and squeezed my hand.
Clairmont didn't see that, and she sat by him.
My crew was over at the pool tables and my boy Chris was cleaning everybody out.
He had started playing when we were kids and that motherfucker could shoot like Minnesota Fats.
Trick shots and all.
I passed the blunt to Clairmont and he pulled on it as we made small talk.
The music slowed down and Clairmont told his wife to get to the bar and help and she rose and started to leave the table.
Clairmont told her to get a move on and slapped her on her ass and it jiggled under the thin fabric of her dress.
She turned and leaned down and kissed and hugged him and winked at me over his shoulder.
She had been trying to give me the pussy but I knew that was trouble.
I would have to kill Clairmont and I didn't want to have to do that.
His supply was to strong.
He leaned in and told me what he needed, asked me if I could handle it.
I looked at him like he was crazy and he laughed at that.
I know you got me Chaingang.
That's my nickname, and people always assumed it was because I had been to prison.
I never had but I never corrected em.
It added to my image.
He got up and walked to his office and I leaned back.
I was by myself tonight and since I didn't dance I watched the booty bounce on the floor as I nursed my drink.
I saw her walking towards my table and she asked me if I had a cigarette.
I said yes and gave her one.
She asked if she could sit down and I said yes.
She asked me my name and I said Chaingang.
She said "What kind of name is that and I told her how I had gotten the name.
By punching someone in the mouth with a choke chain wrapped around my fist.
She looked at me and said "Do you still do that?"
I said "Only when I don't have my gun."
She looked at me and said "You're serious aren't you?"
I said "Serious as a heart attack in church."
She said "I have seen you before, you are young but you seem so confident.
You walk with purpose."
I really looked at her then.
She was about 35 with short hair and a grown woman's ass.
But there was something else about here.
The music bumped and I asked her what she was drinking.
She said gin and juice and I ordered her one.
Clairmont's wife brought it to the table and made small talk.
Checking the competition out.
She left and the woman told me her name.
It was Susan but everybody called her Sue.
She worked for the state... The division of something or other.
She asked me what I did and I said "I make things happen."
She looked at me and said "What does that mean?"
I laughed "Do you really want to know the details?"
"No."
I said good and asked her why was she there by herself.
She looked at me and said "Cause I wanted to meet you."
That kinda hit me hard.
"Why."
"Cause I do. Now let's drink and talk."
An hour later we were looking into each others eyes and I knew it was bout to go down.
She excused herself and went to the bathroom and I paid my tab.
Clairmont's son gave me dap and was all in my business " Fuck that shit up sun."
He was raised in New York.
Sue came out and he watched her ass as she walked to the door of the club and waited.
I dapped him up again and walked to where she was.
Her car was parked in the back of the club in a dark spot and it was a big body Impala.
We got in and she leaned over the seat and kissed me and all hell broke loose.
I slid my hand under her dress and pulled her panties to the side.
She moaned and I slid two fingers in.
She was unclamping my Dickies and when my dick came out she looked at it and tryed to wrap her hand around it.
She couldn't.
I kissed her nipples and she cried out.
She pushed me back and kissed the head of my dick and sucked it in.
She tried to swallow it all but couldn't.
I pushed her back and held her feet as I slid my dick in.
She scratched my chest and screamed as I fucked her.
"Get this pussy!"
I obliged her.
All of a sudden she started chanting "Fuck... Fuck... Fuck!
She scrambled from under me and said look as she rubbed her clit furiously.
When she came it was a flood and it splashed her and me.
That shit turned me on so much I grabbed her and fucked her rough.
I turned her over and fucked her from behind and as she came again I shot off in het pussy we collapsed and she said "My husband can't fuck me like that."
I saw a shadow on the window as someone moved away and raised my head as I wiped the window.
It was Clairmont's wife.
I looked at Sue.
We was gonna have to work this out cause this was good pussy.
When I looked in her eyes I knew she felt the same.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

SNAPPING PUSSY

(HONEYSUCKLE) SNAPPING PUSSY
THE MUSIC FOR THIS RIDE… SO DETRIMENTAL...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PoIl2R-noc&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I kiss her flower and she sighs.
Her petals so soft enthrall me and I manipulate them with my tongue.
She lying on a blanket naked in the cool air.
Nipples like large grapes from the feeding of babes she no stranger to a man’s attention.
Yet I am not ordinary man.
I smell what she likes in her particular scent.
My beast reveals her flavor… The way she likes it licked.
He stands poised like lion, like bear, like gorilla…
Your juice, his drink.
You flow across his tongue.
He I strain to contain for were I to release him fully she would be a dick whipped fool… Following me blindly around.
The beast smiles at that thought as she falls to her knees and kisses the head, spits, sucks as much as she can.
He looks into her eyes as she slurps loudly.
He feels confused… For a second there he felt… Love?
He pushes her back and looks into her orbs of brown and they seem to fall away into the deepness of where he exists.
She kisses the beast (me) and he mounts her hard and drives into her womb.
Her eyes widen… The beast likes that.
Her pussy tightens around his dick…
Let’s go…
Tightens again.
He roars his pleasure… Damn she feels so good.
She screams and squirts and covers him in her cum.
She is of the snapping pussy clan.
He is lost.
I feel my nut surging through the tubes.
Life bearing seeds.
I press her legs back and splatter the back wall of her womb.
The beast says… “Marry me.”
I tried to hold him back.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Sunday, December 15, 2013

FRAMEWORK

(FRAMEWORK)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

You in repose such a lovely work of art.
I sigh for there is so much more I want of you.
From the time of my birth I have been warrior.
Born on the hardest street in the hardest neighborhood in the city.
Born in a place where slavery under a new name held black people down…
All the while all you see is the skin I am in…
What I was when I had to be beast.
It assuring my survival.
I lingering in your air as a molecule drifting across your brown skin…
Wafting to your nostrils scented opium, it my link to true power.
I so locked in a passionate embrace with the thought of love.
Holding it against the black and grey hairs on my chest.
Whispering its name.
Talisman that keeps me from fading away… Becoming as transparent as clean glass against a morning sky.
Beast tranquil as the birds sing of ancient romance, same songs that were sung in a garden paradise echoing in these modern times.
I lost in the framework of your art as it unfolds before these eyes.
Becomes your solidity.
I see you in HD, such a lovely muse that at times it has moved I to tears.
I painting you in these character’s
and lines as you in repose fall from my mind.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Saturday, December 14, 2013

(OF EMPRESSES AND WARRIORS)

(OF EMPRESSES AND WARRIORS) A COLLAB FEATURING LATRICIA MAZYCK
THE MUSIC FOR THIS COLLAB…
Latricia Mazyck
My Liege, what wonderful scribe passeth through thy pen and ‘Twas InKed on textured paper… Embedded within this scribe is the love that poureth from thy own heart…
Jerald Murphy
Ahhhh Latricia most fair.
Thy words burn in mine soul and causeth mine eyes to well with water at the heat of their scorching flames…
The breezes of thee… Fanning… Fanning.
Sending them sweeping with urgency across mine planes.
Thank thee empress.
Latricia Mazyck
Thy welcome cometh toward thine castle o’er yonder… swiftly it cometh to blanket thee with warmth and pure love from mine own heart to thee My Liege…
Jerald Murphy
I cover mine self with thy softest fleece and find myself comforted in a cold hard word…
I on knee accept thy welcome willingly fair maiden…
Daughter of kings.
I a warrior of flesh and blood cloaked in thy comfort becometh invincible
Latricia Mazyck
Alas! My breath is taken aback as I let out a soft-toned moan…
My cheeks a-flamed in a milk-chocolated blush;
which is apparent whilst a yawn surfaces itself from deep within… Involuntarily I acquiesce…
Slowly as my blood becomes cooler in my veins
For the heat overwhelmed me without warning…
Ebony eyes twinkle in unison with the Moonlight… A smile softly tip-toes across my face…
Jerald Murphy
I find myself slain in the depths of loves dungeon…
Willing prisoner to your manipulations as you are to mine.
I so lost as thee causeth my head to swell…
I  swoon in loss of blood to my receptive brain.
Thou art the most and I lost sigh as I sink into thy folds.
Mmmmm.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND Latricia Mazyck

Friday, December 13, 2013

(DOA) THE LAST HEARTBEAT

(DOA) THE LAST HEARTBEAT
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cg-eauPDd0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

And the world fell to the beat…
Man in the vastness of the all as the angels symphony becomes the     soundtrack…
Urgent, urgent…  patterns play across his subconscious as the thread is parted
He finds himself knowing the next breath might be his last and the choir stands locked on that one note
The next thought might take it black.
A second a millennia as the dimensions parted feed the particulates of his particulars and he knows he stands in the presence of greatness.
All and nothing as he free is given the choice... Choose wisely man.
The man recites and those around are as affected as he as he speaks.
Angel and man and there is nothing but the baritone of his voice as he lays his sound down.
Speaks his piece seized from the ancestors at the spark as he seed waited in that king line.
Father to son to grandson and so on...
Mother to daughter to grandaughter... Carried on hips and fed at breasts...
The angels stand prepared to carry this message to Allah, the man drops the rhythm and it created becomes fortified and formidable...
The earth quake's and mankind shakes.
Closing ears against the thunderous tones and freezing in the startling light...
The beat... The beat...
Tis unique.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

STAR SCREAM

(STAR SCREAM)
THE MUSIC FOR DIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8UlW8B2m8M&feature=youtube_gdata_player

We birthed of the union of a star and a planet as one ejaculated its spent ruins into space and the other hurtled through its vastness in a preordained pattern.
We rising as homo sapiens from the dust and taking our first steps…
Locked and rooted to the trees that towered above our infantile heads.
Spirals nappy attesting to our celestial origins
We inhaling of the sweet air as beasts primordial grazed and hunted on the plains below.
The originator walked with us then when we spiritual and free connected interdemensional to angels and demons.
When we locked and rooted as man and woman knew our union was the only means to our survival.
When we knew our places.
Flip side here at the end of our journey where we have lost touch.
With self, with our brother and sister, with Allah.
Locks and roots with no foundation grown on hollow heads and bouncing to a Drake beat
Bearing the weight of 2 Chains and a Lil man named Wayne as the army once strong has turned on itself and dies a genocidal, homicidal suicidal death.
Red flags, blue flags and demons allegiances as they die random in driveby's committed in broad daylight.
You woman in the arms of woman as he man plays the role of undercover brother and spreads the vilest of diseases.
Finds his solace in a man's bed.
Weakens the seed as it prances in low hanging skinny pants.
Learns not the ways of man.
Allah silent watches the proceeding as men spread this mental rot.
Sells his words distorted, twisted and perverted.
Run great churches as the masses sway in upheaval being no longer rooted or locked...
They untethered and drinking the illusion which is administered as grape juice which might as well contain cyanide, some of that Jim Jones Guyana tragedy religiosity.
Somebody got to get a notty heart, somebody got to get rooted and locked.
Somebody?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN

(THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-DBmotq-8E&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Man fell to earth escorted by smoke and fire, which in turn were reminiscent of his formation…
Created from the ashes of a sun.
Carbon, oxygen and hydrogen squared…
His impact though not that of a comet was momentous… He carving a path into solid earth.
Man formed civilizations that fell victim to lost memories.
Cities older than those told of in modern schools where westernization seems to have always been the goal.
Crosses and cannons you see… Sticks of spitting fire..
You see?
Man became the image of poverty painted in blackface, jigabooed on modern t.v.
He once king swung from the kind of man’s tree, mankind wearing white sheets and throwing gang signs masonically.
Swing in the breeze monkey.
Free is just another form of slavery if it ain’t really free from closed mentalities.
Man and the kind of man spiraling toward an uncertain destiny you see…
You see?
Smoke and fire burning in populated areas as helicopters hover and overseers patrol urban jungle streets…
Crack of the whip as a bullet exits a gun barrel…
A man falls hot to the ground, he cooling and leaving his mark red as the fire of his formation in a puddle soaking into the sand…
Running down a gutter.
See?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IMPLOSION

(IMPLOSION)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

A man’s heart beats in the throes of a massive implosion and sucks the air from the area surrounding him…
He in heartache falls to bended knee.
Crying in his pain he heaves with head bowed.
He raises his face the heavens as his heart now at the apex of its implosion releases the air and it devastating roars across the tundra of his despair and crushes all that stands in its way.
The lines on his face wet carry the drops of his tears to the corners where they drop bearing much weight.
Splatter into thousands of glittering prisms that catch the sun.
It witness to this display as the horizon rises above its setting crown.
Fire melting into the branches of the trees as darkness is ushered in.
It purple and pink on the clouds.
His heart now destroyed still beating in his hurting chest.
He having never felt this is consumed alone.
Love walking across the ruins of all he thought he knew as it picks up the pieces of his heart and placing them in order, reassembling them.
This vessel to be used again.
The man in sorrow knows not these things.
He only feels the agony as it implodes his aching heart.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, December 9, 2013

(IF I)

(IF I)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bzP3vulWkJ4&feature=youtube_gdata_player

If I could I would flutter the blood as it entered your heart…
Cause it to react.
To expand and contract your muscles in anticipation.
The whisper of my words on the membranes of your eardrums becoming a bass that vibrates you instinctively…
Oozes into you sexually and pours from your pores as pheromones released into the atmosphere…
I dizzy continue to manipulate…
To become a part of all that you are…
We rising to climatic heights and sweeping through orgasmic galaxies that reside in the pits of our bellies.
Butterflies bumping against the walls.
I rubbing the tired from your skin and muscles…
Soothing your tired bones as my  voice massages you from the inside and echoes across your loneliness…
So reminiscent of mine.
We connected if only by these words falling from my lips to be consumed by the past.
I metaphysical impart myself to thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, December 2, 2013

(CARNIVOROUS)


(CARNIVOROUS)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS FEAST...
http://youtu.be/aw4TGDxEGy4

The last time I was nice it was taken the wrong way...
People thought I was a pushover and came at me all sideways...
That was back in 1976 and I was 11.
That was when I realized that I dragon spit fyah.
That I lion eat meat.
Leave skin and bones and rotting on the ground for the scavengers to eat...
Laughing like hyenas as they fight over the stinking carcass.
That was when I realized that I was meant to be alone even when in the midst of a crowd...
They so consumed in darkness that they might as well be blind...
Led into the slaughter house and fed as veal...
Fattened for the kill.
I walking in and on other dimensional planes where they would never go...
Huddled in the corner, smothered by fear.
They trapped, never to be free.
Even in death.
Ideology carved into headstones standing row after row in so many cemeteries...
Dead sheep abandoned by false shepherds who care only about the living as they pass the collection plate obediently...
Sing when told.
We willllll seeeeeeee...
So much water and the fool chooses to remain thirsty cause of training ritualistically administered...
When I was a young man I realized that the nice get chewed up and devoured.
That's why I aint nothin nice on any day of any week...
I lion roar and cause the establishment to cringe...
They know I dragon manifest spit hot ass fyah.
The last time I was nice they thought I came to play...
They took it the wrong way.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY



(HYPOTHETICAL)


(HYPOTHETICAL)
THE BEAT AS IT CARRIES THIS DREAM...
http://youtu.be/NMJrAvEaYu4

You on my mind...
Hypothetical.
What you would feel like as I rubbed my hand across your skin...
Talked to you of the world as I see it...
Listened to the music of your voice as it caressed the lobe of my ear and sank to the skin of my eardrums...
Beat so sweet...
So hypothetical.
We in moments of reflection on a beach where I try to show you how I see life...
Where I see the waves reflected in the brown of your eyes...
Taste of thy salt.
We in moments of reflection on a front porch as the world passes by and we again talk of life...
A dream in panoramic 4d cause three can't contain we...
We hypothetical.
Holding hands as the spring breeze washes across the land and brings life from barren winter.
Rips green from the ground and colors the vision as far as we see.
A songbird singing from the trees adds melody to the scene...
Each moment a prelude to the next where we in comfort reside in the knowing of each other...
Man and Woman, Queen and King...
Hypothetically conceived in a mad love dream before being ripped from the heart of a Dislocated African and scribbled for all to see.
Letters forming and breathing...
A sigh as I wax...
Hypothetical.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY