[HISTORIC SCROLL]OR LETS BUST IT DOWN TO THE LAST COMPOUND

[HISTORIC SCROLL]OR LETS BUST IT DOWN TO THE LAST COMPOUND
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
http://youtu.be/2FCYutgffcw


Where once you thought you had crushed our story.. buried it in a white Bible... trampled it beneath Manifest Destiny.
We arise in new times the random factor in a bowl of frosted flakes... truth has been twisted into lies to keep the masses appeased... Whole congregations lost on bended knees... eyes cast upwards to false representations of heaven and mans origins... speaking in tongues and falling in the aisles.
Slobbering on hog and drinking legal liquer as sold at the corner store... lost in Babylon as black children die a little inside everyday.
On the sidewalks and under the trees... standing in the face of all this opposition... so many who think that slavery was their beginning... forgetting that without Africa there would be no here and now.
Running to the polls to vote cause you been told so... Obama has done the same thing that every other president did... gave us his ass to kiss after we swole the polls.
This is not our system and thats why we seem to never rise democratically or republican... conservatively or liberally... in fantasy or literally.
A black man on the evening news is more than likely appearing in a mugg shot... in a sitcom the buffoon... a reality show the loud black bitch.
In the ghettos our words are starting to take hold... teachers roaming among the poor who speak of majestic societies in times past... majestic societies in mans future...
And you thought you had crushed our story.

jerald hamzahfaruq murphy

[DARK DAYS COME OUR WAY]OR WHY DOES INSANITY KEEP KNOCKING ON MY DOOR?

[DARK DAYS COME OUR WAY]OR WHY DOES INSANITY KEEP KNOCKING ON MY DOOR?
THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE...
http://youtu.be/guN02lfVLF4


When a child we have no idea of the things which we will face... the treachery of life.
The joy, the pain...  pleasure and turmoil.
We who think that we know it all until life throws us a curve ball.
We find ourselves looking to the clouds, the trees, the waves of the ocean for answers, the sea of humanity for words of wisdom, of comfort.
In the darkness we find monsters lurking... lurking...  scratching at the fragility of sanity.
Not in a physical sense these monsters do they manifest... fragments in tortured minds.
Remnants of all that we have lived, the right and the wrong.
We who leave the comfort of home to go out into this world sure that we have all the keys.
We who think that we know it all until life becomes the pressure that we live.
The day to day grind mixed with a little sarcasm, a little laughter, a smile, a frown.
These wrinkles in our foreheads that tell the story of who we really are inside.
These words are the testimony to all this built up need to speak to children who have no idea of these things that they must one day face.
Demons exist... demons manifest.
We are the gatekeepers.
We.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS]

[40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE. LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL...
http://youtu.be/
NtaS47nbDqI

I think of thee in a thunderstorm of epic proportions.

A rain of emotions washing across the plain of mine sanity in torrential sheets.
Wind driving water into the windows of mine soul... trickling down in undefined lines... aqua so fluid.
We swept along in the flood as it threatens to wash it all away... memories and all.
A picture floating away... away.
Grey and black clouds that seem to touch the tops of mental trees as a day becomes a year, a year a decade and a score.
Pain does not go away it just become a little less sharp as its blade grows rusty and dull.
Sometimes taken from its box and cleaned... shining as it is rubbed and carressed.
Glint of the tears as they fall onto its steel and shimmer in watery drops that catch the reflection of a man.
Blinding the force of this tempest as it threatens to change the very land that a man doth stand on.
Submerge all in a watery grave.
The sun shall come out tomorrow... the sun... the sun.

[FUNKY MIDNIGHT REFLECTION]

[FUNKY MIDNIGHT REFLECTION]
THE MUSIC AND YOU HAD BETTER LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/MQjenv8Po0k

Woman...
Thy on the wrinkles of mine funky mind... swinging on mine mental vine.
Woman all thicked out and drizzling like syrup into the works... ummm so sweet.
Deep dark chocolate and sensual brown eyes.
I adrift in thy megaverse... multiplistically if i may start a discourse of the complexity of  thine influence on the artistic in me.
I in great divergence as considered mathematically.
Woman...
The root of mine equation squared...
In thee quantum physically... interdimensionally...  feel me?
360, as the circle complete... 
I shall scribe thee pyramidically... all off in your pi.
Break thee down to the very last compound... chemically and atomically... anatomically.
Woman...
In the thump thee are the bass... in the melody the tweet... in the song the sweetest sound as it plays across eardrums.
Wrapped up and laid down.
In the lab of mine scientific analogy thy art the key to cure some of mans disease... blue dreams and such.
Fill mine cup and let me ingest of thee as I digress into thou interdimensionally.
Woman.

jerald hamzahfaruq murphy