[POETICAL ON A SUGGESTION] INSPIRED BY Ron Poetry

[POETICAL ON A SUGGESTION] INSPIRED BY Ron Poetry 
THE MUSIC FOR THIS WRITE...
http://youtu.be/1V5fBUYY0Pk


Once as poetry spoke in a boys bones he longed to see the sun on different continents, it calling to his heart...
But the boy lived in the ghetto and the walls they were high...
Poetry lived in the pages of the books he read, the speeches made by great men... 
Poetry lived in the dance of life, swing of hips and swerve of the car.
The boy touched cold steel and poetry existed in that too... The power to take life.
Poetry in the sky as the seasons they changed... Leaves falling from trees and growing again.
Poetry was the sweetness of grandma's strawberry nut cake... Frosting so rich it would rattle your soul.
Poetry made the boy leave the ghetto and go into the world, taught him that he was an anomaly.
One who saw the true ways of the poetry of man in all his incarnations... its implications.
Poetry was the bastard and the whore... The dirty redneck who spit on his truck... The form of a woman in a darkened bedroom... Water running in a bathtub.
Poetry the birth of a child and the loss of one as well... The song of his fathers life told to southern blues.
Poetry as he fades into the horizon... Off into the setting sun...
Walking...
Poetically.

jerald hamzahfaruq murphy

[PANTY WETTER]

[PANTY WETTER] TOPIC SUBMITTED BY Mercy Arnold
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
http://youtu.be/067i_VzCNUI

They calls me Big Daddy, otherwise I am known as the pure pussy getter... the supreme panty wetter.
Lyrics whispered into receptive ears on cold winter nights as that pussy grows moist in anticipation.
I will talk my way all under the layers of your clothes touch that clit and make your blood flutter... Lay it open and gently touch that clit with my tongue.
Verbally and physically.
A downright beast as I take you to the edge of your fantasy and push you over... Make you land all on top of me... Dick all the way back to your spine.
Spank them ass cheeks and call you my bitch and my whore cause thats what panty wetters is... Pure dee downright nasty as I feel my nuts slapping that pussy... Your pussy belongeth to me.
Hand over your mouth so your man don't hear as I savagely ravage the walls of your punani.
Some of that panty wetting beatdown that makes the earth seem to tremble as you shudder.
Wracked within the spasms of a shatteringly screaming nut...
Woman in case you didn't know...
Big Daddy wets panties up.

[OH AFRICA IN AMERIKKKAN QUEENS]

[OH AFRICA IN AMERIKKKAN QUEENS]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MAKE SURE THAT YOU LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/oVUxYxOag7U

No matter where these roads may take me you still reign as the most beautiful of the feminine... In the blackest shades of your melanic skin to the smoothest of brown.
The light and the dark... The beat of your heart is the drum of procession for this regression...
In fragmented dreams and jail cells where I may find myself lingering on this winding stroll.
Trying to leave a little of me spread out... Hoping somebody remembers and passes it on... You all in my skies.
Sexual digressions and introspectives into your collective soul where blackness is the basis of creation... Reborn time and time again.
From the brown of your eyes to the blackness of the naps that remain twisted in your kitchen where even the relaxer fails to erase patterns of humanities birth.
As a man travels these highways a runaway slave yours is the visage that wakes him from the slumber of sleep and activates his mentality.
Gives him reason to be concerned and motivates... You looming in the horizon... City of mans salvation if only he overstood.
In your walls are the makings of freedom from oppression and resistance.
If only a man were to look.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[PASSED ON]

[PASSED ON]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS WRITE... YOU BETTER LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/9hrVk_9gdU8

So much pressure as it all beats down... These eviscerating lyrics dropped in the name of our people... We unequaled.
Once in Africa a man looked at the sun as I do today... My ancestor.
His blood still flows in my veins as he has become a part of the dust that rises when I walk.
Once a mother nursed a baby in the middle of an African village as children ran about... Grandmother to so many future generations.
Her d.n.a. carries in me and my bretheren my sistren and in our fruit and seed mixed in the fallopian tree.
Once in the south a slave looked to the stars and wished he could run away... Just be anywhere else but here... Born a slave... Dead a slave.
My people...
When a man forgets his past he is doomed in all his futures all his possibilities.
He lives in the illusion of being free when he is nothing but another mans bitch.
Might as well bend the fuck over and touch the floor... Assume the motherfucking position!
Be the slutted out victim.
Once we knew these things and passed them on in the dark of night... Told them to the children as the moon made its transition across darkened skies.
Eyes open wide in wonder at our glorious tale... how we have survived in the fires of hell.
The future should know the past.
So much pressure as it all beats down.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY