[A WRITERS WARRIOR CRY]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS LAMENT...
http://youtu.be/NlQPnalK530
This is my attempt to write you through these things... to write my way through these serious things.
A black man crying into the dirt from whence we came...tears into the sand... Allah incarnate in our dna.
Worlds that we aspire to go to while all the time the universe is you... broken down to the size of a mustard seed.
So simple that even a caveman in an airplane over Afghanistan could overstand
Plain english for an english speaker if you get my drift? Even translated into Chinese it would remain the plain un-obliterated truth.
As the blades of grass wave in the breeze... so are we evicerally.
A waning and waxing piece of poetic fluidity... Al hamdu allah.
If only the children were taught the truth and allowed to work it out.
Dead leaves being pushed by treacherous winds and left lying desolated in the gutters waiting to be swept away.
Awayyyy...
Whispers unto Allah across the overwhelming mass of man.
All I got is these words to give... my weight on the scale... these things that I know.
Take these from me and you might as well slice my jugular vein... cause even when I was locked up I spit this shit.
You can lock up my body but not my notty ass mind... African I remain... born and raised in the ghettos of babylon.
So much have I seen.
This is my attempt to write you through these things... to write my way through these serious things.
hamzahfaruq
[LOST] NOT MADE FOR T.V.
THE MUSIC FOR THIS SAD TALE...
http://youtu.be/5owZlGX1p7Q
When we really look at the picture it becomes clear that the African man and woman of today done lost their way.
Fucked up on dillusions of their own grandeur as rap video images of get dat watermelon nigger play on hi def screens.
Basing love on what is portrayed in full fledged R&B... dance monkey dance.
Shiny rims, shiny teeth and shiny shoes got so many lost in the land of the fools... played by society and the record pools as the sound loops.
Tom Joiner, Steve Harvey and Ricky Smiley got you laughing all the way to work as the community falls into further disarray.
What is done today is forgotten tomorrow as the news is played as a soundbite, 60 seconds of what we want you to know.
Dance monkey dance...
Malt liquer, Hennessy and Alize.
Fucked up on name brand recognition as time washes away at our condition.
It seems as if the movies got all the African men dressed as women just to claim a leading role... calling out to god while living an abomination.
Where did we go wrong?
The words of the ancestors seem to have lost a hold as we seem to fade away... lost...
Dance monkey dance.
HAMZAHFARUQ
[THE TALE OF BIG DADDY...PUM PUM WRECKA]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS WETTER ONE... IF YOU MISS IT YOU MISS THE FUCKING POINT...
http://youtu.be/c8ARtyCbWvs
They call me big daddy... let me rephrase that.
They call me BIG DADDY.
In the back of cars they say "beat it BIG DADDY!!!" as I mount them and tear that thang up... all up in them guts.
When I do it on the back porch they say "dont stop BIG DADDY make me nut, make me wet you up!!!"
In the bushes at the park they scratch my back as I push em against the tree "BIG DADDY dont take that thang out of me, I want to be free!!!
As I pass them in the streets they whisper to their friends "thats BIG DADDY dont get it fucked up, He will do anything to make you erupt, girl he is the sultan of fuck."
They call me BIG DADDY when I push those legs back and make that clit stand up, "BIG DADDY oh BIG DADDY!!!"
BIG DADDY might as well be my name cause BIG DADDY will wreck a pum pum, make you lose weight and want to self destruct.
BIG DADDY will eat a punani up... make you grab his head and try to buck, naw dont you run from me cause BIG DADDY wants to drink of your juice, all in the hairs on my chiney, chin, chin... again and again.
BIG DADDY will heist that thing up and treat it real ruff cause BIG DADDY wants to hear you scream and send you to the land of satiated dreams... the land of chocolate thunder and pop rocks.
Leave you lying in a pool of soaking you as BIG DADDY stands and pounds his chest... roars so that the neighbors can hear.
They call me BIGGGG DADDDYYYYYY!
Dont get it fucked up.
hamzahfaruq
[GETDOWN]
THE MUSIC...DONT MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/4XeJ9lCn0ik
When I wake in the morning and the air is fresh and crisp I listen to the birds as they sing in blended song.
The voices take me to a mellow place where I am but a cog in the mighty machine.
The synchopated drum of the woodpecker as his red crown flashes back and forth and he beats his drum... ambient sound as the tree amplifies his message.
Reminding me of my ancestors who sent messages across the continent of Africa... the chant of my sisters as they swayed in unison.
Ancient rhythm, power and sound translated into these times as the hummingbirds wings beat blindingly and add hum to the art of all this noise.
Allusions to the whir of life in the forest and on the plains as the song echos off city walls and carries across the land where a poor man is still a poor man.
Rising so early to get the proverbial worm as the dawn breaks and the day begins.
Melody and percussion combine as the frantic pace continues and the beat goes on while the birds sing in accompaniment.
I a bard in this manifestation...Drifting on the woodpeckers breakdown...
Getup...
Getdown.
hamzahfaruq
[INK DRIPS] A COLLAB FEATURING @ KERRA PRIDGEN
THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE OF EROTICA...
http://youtu.be/yG246eeDbNM
H
How bad are you willing to be for me?
Would you lie in front of me... Spread?
Touch your petals and let me see as my breath catches in my throat.
Spin around and let me see your cheeks.
Be my freaky lil nasty... my nasty lil freak.
Rub your hands on your breasts, your stomach, between your legs.
Make it wet for me.
MMMMMMM...Beg me to come into you... fill you up with the thickness of me.
Spank you as your fluids rise to the surface... flow in screaming release.
Saturate the sheets.
How bad are you willing to be for me?
K
My thickness he sees, but that isn't what he wants, my thickness is what he is going to have to work his way around.
Good with his hands, so no problem there.
He sees how my ass pokes out and sets up by itself...Can't resist the curve of it, makes him just want to touch it... So much to hold on too and grab, and a nice place to place his pen at....He also likes speaking in tongues so I will be looking forward to that.
As my pussy starts to moisten up my thick thighs I start to notice his thickness, the width.... I see the look in his eyes the feel of his touch, he's wondering if I will let him continue.
How nasty?
Hmm let me see....He uncovers his pen and dips it in my ink..My petals just open and I am rebirthed as his pen begins stroking..The flow of two bomb ass poets...getting covered by smoke of our essence...Inhale, never breathe out…a high that could never go away even if you take our pen and ink away…
H
Wow I like that nasty.
This ink from my pen that glistens just a drop as my pen stands poised.
Your eyes have given me the answers that I seek...
You wanna be bad for me... such a bad lil ol thang... with all that booty meat.
I see you lying there in all your heavenly glory as I use your ink to cover the canvas...paint the walls.
Taste it on my buds.
You have fallen under the spell of me.
Such a lovely nymph forever trapped in what we have unleashed.
The pure and unrelenting force of our pen and ink.
HAMZAHFARUQ AND Kerra M. Pridgen
[IN YOU]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS WRITE... DONT SLEEP ON IT...
http://youtu.be/NvuYdRek0vk
Hey nubian woman let me read a little something to you that I wrote today about your afro, your curves, and the formation of mans universe.
When we were formed in the garden everything was new and there were no worries, I looked at you and saw the universe in the spirals of your hair.
I knew then that I had to have you even if it meant that i would have to pluck the blue from the sky... place it in your hands and watch the sun reflect upon your face.
The moon that we gazed up at was the halo that formed around your head... the stars the tiara.
When I came upon flowers I would pick them for you so that you could see the fragile beauty contained within.
Like these lives.
Like your soft skin.
The sound of your voice played in the depths of mental space.
A sweet melody to my bass as we dwelled in sweet harmony in the beginnings of our cosmic being.
The tone of your chocolate shell melted across the receptors of taste in my starved mind where I the lonesome dwelled.
As we have lived these lives and ended up in the strangest of places have you been my release... By my side through war and disease.
Horrors of slavery and the degradation of segregation.
I need you even more in these times where your afro takes me back to my creation.
Our birth.
HAMZAHFARUQ
[WHY] DEDICATED TO A SON...A BROTHER... A GRANDSON; KALEB QURAN MURPHY AUG 16 2000 TO MAR 1ST 2003
THE MUSIC FOR THIS DEDICATION...
http://youtu.be/u0KQqOai-uA
One day a boy sat looking at the sky wondering what would happen next.
No answer; and he stood to face the uncertain day.
The things that he saw became the things that he had learned and from these things he grew.
And the days they did pass until he was a man.
Those things that had seemed so simple when he was young had now become the hardest things he had faced.
The loss of innocence in the center of the fray.
Friends who had gone the easy way... some who went out hard... blood and tears on city streets.
The loss of a young one.
Looking to the sky wondering why... oh why?
The birth of sons who will carry the name into the future... daughters who carry the dna.
Strands of we that exist in times where our eyes have long ceased to see.
Pieces of us that exist in the water that we drink and the food that we eat... reincarnated in the breakdown.
In the rebuilding.
A boy looks out from the soul of a man and still he wonders.
Why?
hamzahfaruq
[RAIN DROP]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS FLUID FLOW...
http://youtu.be/IRDve0v_YDo
The rain...the rain... falling so steadily from the clouds and cycling into the membranes.
Epidermically refreshing as it cleanses and cleans... washing the sin away.
Momentarily suspended in the drops a split second before they splash into fragments and dribble away.
Puddles that bear witness to the passing of man... puddles in the tracks of mans passing as they fade away.
Evaporating into the skies and forming clouds of grey as it all repeats time and time again.
A shower drenched in the possibility of new life... the promise of new beginnings.
Seeds that drink from the fountain of knowledge that is formed of these simple compounds.
Springing forth in stages of growth... green leaves that feed the roots... roots that feed the leaves.
Hydrogen and air solidified... liquified and aquafied as it trickles across fingers and carves away at the landscape.
Lakes and rivers that add to the abundance of life in the oceans and the seven seas.
The rain... the rain... a moment before the sun kisses the earth in prostration and draws forth the seed that drinks of the rain.
hamzahfaruq
[ARM, LEG, LEG, ARM, HEAD] A WORD SUGGESTED BY Greg Harton
THE WORD WAS RETALIATION
THE DAMNED MUSIC... PUMP IT UP...
http://youtu.be/zwy_zme7aQE
A SPAR IN A LYRICAL DOJO WHERE A MAD MONK DROPS THE CRAZIEST FLOW...WHERE THE ENEMY STANDS POISED AT THE VIRTUAL DOE AS I KICKS THIS MONSTA BLOW...RETALIATION FOR ALL THE TIMES THAT ONE OF MINE HAS BEEN HELD DOWN...KICKED TO THE GROUND AND STRAIGHT JAWJACKED BY THE SYSTEM...HUNG FROM A TREE OR BURNT IN THE STREET IN THE SHORT ASS MONTH OF FEBRUARY... REGULATED AND DELEGATED RIGHT OUT THE PICTURE...ARYAN NATION AND WHITE SUPREMACY AS DEFINED UNDER MANIFEST DESTINY... I TOLD YOU THESE WAS KILL MOVES WHEN I BLASTED THROUGH THE BOTTOM FLOOR...STEP INTO MY DOJO WHERE THESE DEGREES GET BROKEN DOWN AND SERVED IN BIT AND PIECES... STRAIGHT MANIACAL LYRICAL GUERILLA SHIT AS THIS FUNK HITS THE SCREEN... SCRREEEAAAAMMMM!!! LIGHTERSSSSSSSS!!! VIVID COLORS THAT FLASH SO VISUALLY AS THE PEN FLASHES AND SEVERS ALL THAT YOU KNOW... IN THIS DOJO... ARM, LEG, LEG, ARM, HEAD.
HAMZAHFARUQ
[WHAT THEN?] A ONE WORD SUGGESTION SUBMITTED BY Lyrical Paradigm
THE WORD WAS CALIBRATION...
THE WAY THE BEAT DROPS...
http://youtu.be/ZSlBzS98feI
What then of unity as it seems to waft away... a wisp of a cloud as it dissipates in the atmosphere of all things.
As all these calibrated things fall into disarray... sharpened shards of knowledge as they fall to the concrete floor.
Ting a ling and screams as lights and tape define the crime scene where the forgotten lie in death.
Broken and bloody.
Some say that these are the last days as defined by the words in the book of revelations where these things are revealed.
Speaking of the trumpets and the seven seals... fire as it sweeps across the land.
Heaven and hell.
Where once there were tribes and nubian nations now lies the devastation of the urban situation where the music seems to have lost its calibration.
The drummer has lost his syncopation and warriors file and rank to the beat of clicks and gangs... do vicious thangs to the beat.
Bodies in the streets with eyes cast to the skies as these days they do pass us by... standing erect lost in fascination...
Wondering.
What then of unity?
HAMZAHFARUQ
