THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN

(THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-DBmotq-8E&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Man fell to earth escorted by smoke and fire, which in turn were reminiscent of his formation…
Created from the ashes of a sun.
Carbon, oxygen and hydrogen squared…
His impact though not that of a comet was momentous… He carving a path into solid earth.
Man formed civilizations that fell victim to lost memories.
Cities older than those told of in modern schools where westernization seems to have always been the goal.
Crosses and cannons you see… Sticks of spitting fire..
You see?
Man became the image of poverty painted in blackface, jigabooed on modern t.v.
He once king swung from the kind of man’s tree, mankind wearing white sheets and throwing gang signs masonically.
Swing in the breeze monkey.
Free is just another form of slavery if it ain’t really free from closed mentalities.
Man and the kind of man spiraling toward an uncertain destiny you see…
You see?
Smoke and fire burning in populated areas as helicopters hover and overseers patrol urban jungle streets…
Crack of the whip as a bullet exits a gun barrel…
A man falls hot to the ground, he cooling and leaving his mark red as the fire of his formation in a puddle soaking into the sand…
Running down a gutter.
See?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IMPLOSION

(IMPLOSION)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

A man’s heart beats in the throes of a massive implosion and sucks the air from the area surrounding him…
He in heartache falls to bended knee.
Crying in his pain he heaves with head bowed.
He raises his face the heavens as his heart now at the apex of its implosion releases the air and it devastating roars across the tundra of his despair and crushes all that stands in its way.
The lines on his face wet carry the drops of his tears to the corners where they drop bearing much weight.
Splatter into thousands of glittering prisms that catch the sun.
It witness to this display as the horizon rises above its setting crown.
Fire melting into the branches of the trees as darkness is ushered in.
It purple and pink on the clouds.
His heart now destroyed still beating in his hurting chest.
He having never felt this is consumed alone.
Love walking across the ruins of all he thought he knew as it picks up the pieces of his heart and placing them in order, reassembling them.
This vessel to be used again.
The man in sorrow knows not these things.
He only feels the agony as it implodes his aching heart.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY