[WOOD, GRAPHITE, STEEL AND PLASTIC]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS MEDITATION...
http://youtu.be/MQ7XX1J-Gbc
The pencil and the pen saved my life.
Paintings on brick walls back in the day that seemed to come to life...
Graffiti dedicated to the richness of all that I was...
Child of Allah in the promised land.
The pencil and the pen saved my life when the system threatened to lock me away...
Throw away the key.
When facing three life sentences ripped the dreads from my head...
Strands of hair on the pillow in the morning.
Eyes tired from staring at the ceiling.
I reborn as I kissed a tree...
Freed.
The pencil and the pen and now these keys which I tickle in the year 2013...
A future that I thought I would never see...
Where are the flying cars...
The unity?
Are we really any better off than we were in slavery cause to me it ain't gone a damn place...
The pen the pencil and the keys keeping men from being all that they can be...
Children learning empty knowledge as the world spirals towards mans eradication.
He never having learned to co-exist.
The pencil the pen and the keys as I a man record these things.
JERALD HAMZAH KILLMOVES FARUQ
[VANQUISHED IN THE REALIZATION]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS FUCKING ROMP... AND DONT GET IT FUCKED UP...
http://youtu.be/NfV3XKLfyeU
On the field two warriors stand as flecks fall through the atmosphere.
They are here by fate... destined to meet.
The prize as always in these situations is again, the hand of a woman.
One of the warriors reaches into his pocket and caresses the soft silk of her scarf.
He withdraws his hand from his pocket and in the split second that it takes to draw his sword this is what he thinks.
"He who would stand in the way of my happiness must be vanquished...
Driven to the earth... smitted.
I will dwell in the membranes of his brain and block his synapses... fester in his soul.
Become the ghost in his closet and the shadow in the corner of his eye.
The very fabric of his existence shall be torn to shreds a flag flapping on a sinking vessel borne to the gates of the seventh hell.
In his waking will thought of I haunt him and make him babble as the milk from his cornflakes dribbles down his chin.
My hounds will I unleash to rip him into tiny bite sized pieces... The ants shall dine on the rest.
I will have no remorse for he was my foe...
He stood in my way.
Happiness but a step beyond."
The battle begins and from the start it is clear that these men are pretty evenly matched.
As they dodge and parry and the dust begins to rise they seem to become something else.
Dancers.
Sword steel sings and they fall through the motions of their movements.
A shuffle... A sidestep.
For a second his opponent slips and in his minds eye he knew this before it transpired and he makes his move.
A trick and he lies on the battle floor bleeding his life away.
The standing man reaches into his pocket and withdraws...
A silken scarf.
Wind carries dust particles away.
JERALD HAMZAH KILLMOVES FARUQ MURPHY
