(2026) Flipped, Dipped and Ripped.

What of these days where short are the Suns rays?

Of these things we speak, of the strong, of the meek.

Hoodies in the summers blistering heat, little girls on video fighting in the streets.

People fighting over politics, politicians playing Jedi mind tricks.

So many claiming intelligence as the story bends, a savage soliloquy as a man's life nears it's end.

Poisonous is the air we breathe, poisoned are the seas.

2026 and reason seems to have fled, humanity putting two to its pleading head.

AI slowly changing the way these things are seen, so many focused on phone screens.

Technology watching the patterns and learning, whole city blocks in war torn cities burning.

Oh, look at the cute puppies on the evening news, let's not talk about the guns we done let into the schools, let's not talk about the fact that they gave children the rule.

The night grows longer these days, it seems as if someone is actively working to extinguish the Suns rays.

These days... These days.

Eggs, grits w cheese 

Sausage

Cheese

(VAPING ON THE HARSH REALITY) 360°

Everyday I man wake up it's another day standing on fractured planes of existence.

Not just where I man stand but space inhabited by other beings described as human.

Questions swirling like waves of heat on desert sand.

Why that fool killed them babies man?

How many innocents killed by bombs in Iran,

In Pakistan?

How many killed by guns in Manhattan?

Sorry to rhyme, that's just how it came out.

All this beauty but all this strife.

Who gone remember this life when I man drift away energy into the atmosphere?

Blue skies and clouds stretching across the horizon.

Such thoughts as I man ponder the immensity of all these things.

Sinners in church on bended knees praying for prostitutes on various street corners.

Surrendered to the religiosity of it all.

Babies born in hospitals addicted before they could breathe.

The angels of these things would they sing.

Flowers so red against the buildings concrete.

Suspended leaves on the breeze.

Visions of Allah floating on a memory.

A whisp of air, I man breathe these things.

An exhale as it all repeats.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Butter 

Flour 

Pancake mix 

Roach spray

I floated, no I crashed into earth a meteorite.

Cause ain't nothing soft bout me, I'm like granite.

The sky alluding to far off possibilities and sometimes improbable probabilities.

A conundrum and a improper use of linguistics as I man try to put in perspective.

(WHEN I)

These days grow longer yet shorter and the night it comes, it comes.

Such a daunting thing the surety of finality, such a hauntingly frightening thing.

To fear the night is such a foolhardy thing, yet a certain amount comes regardless.

From womb to cradle to crawl ,walk and run, even those things would become past.

The night it seems is not that far away even when young, man holding woman's hand in the halls of his prime.

He so young and virile, she so god-damned fine.

Got to break it down this way cause the dark is on the horizon, light consumed in a place we can only contemplate about.

Those who've come come back tell such conflicting tales, light at the end of tunnels and flashes of consciousness light.

Yet there it is, the edge of darkness looming right beyond sight.

The days grow longer in the midst of spring, yet the night it seems, has grown a bit too.

Darkness must consume.

It comes, it comes.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY