[NAKED AND RAW]
THE SOUND LOOPED AND SKINT BACK...
http://youtu.be/_NSTDuEJPlc

And the Massive weight of all these things presses down pon my soul..
What I'm gonna tell the babies?
And I don't wanna go to sleep... I don't wanna wake up...
Open up my eyes and see this shit again.
People walking round trying to look like they see... Such a false reality as they hold to the little precious scraps they have acquired...
All shall return to the dust from whence it came and I be...
I be trying to drop the preponderance of the situation as it stands... The awful insanity of living the dream.
 My jawbone hurts from the words that I speak... My tongue... My tongue, it is dry.
A sip of the aqua and I, I pause mid sentence and sigh.
Would that they listen before I am skin and bones... Before the worms eat me up.
Close my eyes for the last time cause I'm bout tired as fuck.
Is it wrong to ask for peace in a world of hate, envy and jealousy... A world where children go hungry everyday and the billionaires live it up...
A world where those put in place to protect couldn't give a flying fuck bout you statistically...
The politician, the police, the preacher and the judge...
Living it up while all you got is a job, some rent, a light bill and some name brand clothes.
And I don't want to wake up... I don't want to wake up...
I don't want to go to sleep...
I don't want to see these things.
I'm tired as fuck.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[TEARS OF THE BEAST] A LOVE NOTE
THE SOUND, POUNDING, POUNDING...
http://youtu.be/YRX5m_7HBtI

One of the hardest things I try to explain to you is how I really feel.
I mean the depth of my emotions... The magnitude.
Sex to me is a post-lude yet at the same time its a prelude.
See, its so very hard for me to separate the beast from the intellect...
The primal from the modern.
The butt naked nasty from the gotta be seen in public see?
I tend to find all of it so confusing cause if I want you I am going to woo you.
Talk to you and try to show you the all of me.
The beauty of all I see.
Pick flowers wild and arrange them in the most beautiful patterns for you...
Feed you chocolate and seafood.
The things that I the beast find enthralling as I watch you enjoy the taste, the smell and the texture.
As you take my mind on a journey of the most epic proportions.
The jut of your nipples as they press against the fabric...
The phatness of your pussy print...
The sway of your ass as I swept along walk behind you...
I the beast wanting you to overstand that to me its not all about the pussy nor the nut...
That its all about the build up... The dance.
The softness and the hardness.
The whole 360.
I wanting you to know that when I look at you I see us old and grey still holding hands and kissing.
That there is nothing that will rip us apart as long as you realize these things, no matter what your friends say.
No matter what the world throws in our way.
Here I am beast...
Trying to say these things to you in a way you can comprehend...
I feel so...
Misunderstood.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{IN THE HIGHER HEIGHTS}
THE EMOTIONAL LEVEL WE FIND OURSELVES ON AS WE INTERDIMENSIONAL LISTEN TO THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/YiNvdtYr3eo

If I took you to the outer dimensions of my mind could you or would you survive?
Would you roam lost in the antimatter... The dark matter that is echoed in my skin... in my heart.. In my syncopated words.
The rhythm of me as I resonate higher frequency.
Would you or could you overstand the mechanics of survival on foreign soil where my stolen ancestors are still vilified for being hung, raped and mentally tortured.
The mathematics of such a horrendous scheme as another black body falls felled by the gun of the police...
A driveby... A robbery.
The sum of the equation.
Suspended animation as we repeat the same tale over and over again... Looped and spliced and played out on big screens as reality T.V.
Babies crying in dissatisfaction on the soundtrack as life speeds by the sleepers eyes.
He frozen in carbonite waiting, waiting for better days that will never come if he does not awake.
His prison virtual is the only existence he knows as the planets and the asteroids spin... As his ship drifts in subspace...
Beyond the timelines and constrictions of his teachings... his learning's.
A mother looking at a picture of her baby who died so young... He killed by the demon inaction and systematically induced crime.
The savage and brutal tale of the have and the have not's.
The laugh track at the irony is cued... The audience sighs.
There is no day in the depths of my space... there is no night.
I drift interdimensional...
My sight... My sight.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

DELICATE TENDER BEASTS MEET ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF LOVE AND LUST

[DELICATE AND TENDER BEASTS MEET ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF LOVE AND LUST]
THE SOUND AS THE BEASTS BEATDOWN...
http://youtu.be/5_V4ZgkP8DE

In she came, an apparation lingering in the beasts peripherals...
The beast pacing stopped and sniffed at the air and smelled of her...
Such a whiff of such an exotic fragrance.
The beast in eloquent roars and utterances begged of her to come nearer... He listened to her as she dropped her wisdom.
It sating the beasts synapses and he lay back and rode the vibe... her voice.
They on such a level playing field... He in his lair and she within.
The beast in his longing wanting to stroke of her... To excite her insides as she excited his... Oh the beast wanted this so.
Yet this woman so intelligent made him want to hear her song... It sung in alto tones so decent and smooth.
The beast and the woman conversing walked across a diaspora of things War, sex and peace...
The beast asked of her to show a little bit and she did... And the conversation it continued for the beast did not want to lose her, Mmmmmm... And he savored her, asking to see a bit more and she in her wanting showed him.
It was then that The beast saw her beast... Pulling at it, rubbing it he brought the she beast from her recesses and she began to purrrrr...
Her so wet and thick and making the beast grow heavy in his loins... He swinging low and thick.
They on such a level playing field... Two beasts unleashed.
She begging him to fill her... He driving into her fell and they danced such a primal dance that reality seemed to fall away into the dark.
A lily in the field and the bee alighteth... The sound of his wings as thumping thunder... His footsteps the Thump, Thump, Thump...
She begging of he to spill his seed, to fertilize her as he drives into her womb.
Her petals wrapped around his rigidness...
He panting and licking... Squeezing and prodding... Spanking and Roaring savagely.
They talking so dirty and filling the air with sound.
The beast and the she beast finding relief in these times where there is so much turmoil... They Warrior and Queen.
They on such a level playing field and finding comfort in each others naked lust.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY.

{MY SOUL BLEEDING SCREAMS FOR A QUEEN}
THE SOUND IN STEREOPHONIC 3D
http://youtu.be/WRPLKxKDBf0

I have written to you so many times that I should be out of words, yer that is not the case as ink flows from the deepest wells of my soul...
Stains these pages in tomes designed to uplift you from the depths of unknowing as we linger in these modern times waiting for our futures to become manifest.
I looking upon your form am reminded of all the men who have stood by and watched you become the concubine, the raiser of our oppressors babies, the left alone as whole families were birthed from your womb.
I write so that you may know my pain at knowing these things, so that you may know that I love you so, so that you may know I won't let go.
These letters the blood of my being as I beg of you to hear me, to look me in my eyes and see the anguish of not having one such as you by my side.
As you continue to choose men mislead to believe that you are a possession, a bitch, a whore, anything but the queen.
I trying to put you into perspective as I looking into the telescope peer across your universe and fathom your cosmos.
I a Lion know that I am king but I Lion roam alone in this my kingdom as your scent crosses my nose, such an old thing as it wafts by.
Its been so long.
I seeking to write you the most beautiful piece of prose ever written, so sweet that it bringing you to tears baptizes you, sanctifies you and gives you the keys to the gates of a future heaven.
That's how much I love you the mother of all hue-man life on this planet 3 removed from the sun that we orbit around, the carbon and water mixed and placed in the kiln of thy womb... Extracted as a living breathing person.
I tracing your stretch marks in my memory try to remember the path that the map told me to follow.
Its been so damn long.
I trying to explain myself as the ink continues to pour unabated from the blackest depths of my souls cosmos.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{FIRE AND BRIMSTONE RAINING FROM MENTAL SKIES} TOPIC SUBMITTED BY SARAH B TONIN
THE SOUND OF BLACK ANGEL LIGHT DESCENDING FROM HEAVEN...
http://youtu.be/5hZ84aSZpWk

For almost 5 hundred years black people have been the victim of an uncaring system...
Taught to blame themselves for being slaves, being placed on the bottom rung, being excluded from basic hue-man rights.
Woe unto the ones who lost in Babylon have forgotten the fact that they were once the right hand of a black God.
That they themselves are sons and daughters of God.
They afraid to acknowledge that fact have become the worlds villified  and defiled race.
They who would believe anything are told that they are the problem...
That white is right and black is a crime... It so evil.
They led to believe that things have changed watch their children murdered in the streets by guns produced and sold by the white man.
Watch their children try new drugs produced and manufactured by the white man.
How many black men do you know that bring drugs into the country by boat, train or plane?
They crying in the cemeteries lay their children to rest and denounce saggy jeans, thug mentalities and black on black crime.
They do everything to avoid denouncing the real problem... to confront it head on.
The young black mother holding her now fatherless child falls to the ground as the white media finds a way to twist the story.
Make the innocent black man the beast.
He innocent because he is the true victim.
Victim of the great white lie... That the riches they stole are not owed back to us.
That education is equal... That mass media gives a damn about them while producing shows that show us in a negative light.
A false reality cause you ain't rich like them new niggas.
They spending hard earned dollars trying to be like them all the while not realizing the cold hard fact...
That all you are is just another nigga.
That this is Babylon...
That we must become the fire and brimstone raining from the skies of our minds...
Then and only then will God lead us from clouds of smoke and fire...
Back to the promised land from whence we came.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[TITILLATION]

[TITILLATION]
THE SOUND PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND...
http://youtu.be/yh0rGbd5vsg

Here alone in my four cornered room I find myself wanting to lick of you.
To suck passion marks on your heart and thighs.
Make your pussylips swollen and your clit grow hard.
Take you to erotic heights where all that exists is the moans the sighs and the sweat of our passion...
The smell of sex as you wet gyrate on my tongue.
I licking my way into the corners of your mind where your sanity resides...
Take it and stroke it tenderly as I take it to the limits of all your reasoning...
To the door of insanity as I kiss it and lay it down...
Push your legs as far back as they can possibly go and hum a slow song...
Taste of thy cum as it wets your walls and spills forth , onto my lips, onto the hairs of my beard.
Your cries the basis for my being... Your juice so sweet flowing from your liquid depths.
Your nipples the dark berry dangling from life's tree as I pluck them ripe and nibble...
Fill myself on the flesh.
Trace a line down your stomach and flick a soft beat on your pussylips... pull them apart and stick my finger in...
Find your g spot and massage...
I need to see you squirt... It gives me strength... It gives me energy...
I a sexual vampire.
I who have lived so long because of your elixir.
I sitting here alone in the dark wanting you as so many queens alone sit in their four cornered rooms, wishing for a man.
I want you...
I need you...
I must have you...
Can I?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE TALE OF THE LOST MADONNA AND THE NEW NIGGAS}

{THE TALE OF THE LOST MADONNA AND THE NEW NIGGAS}
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/6J-vzhr1vzc

We having lost our base find ourselves in these modern times trying to rebuild...
We having forgotten that together we can overcome any obstacle as the black women say they don't need the black man...
The black man saying he does not need the black woman and our children suffer, our diaspora suffers the devastating effects.
So sad that so many of us having fallen victim to miseducation, tricknowledge and church endorsed homosexuality have forgotten these things.
That without you there is no me, without me there is no you and we begin the gradual descent into non-being.
Falsely believing the lie that we originated in slavery and teaching it to the babies from birth...
teaching them that's all their worth.
That our black skin is a mark of shame. that its a curse as we lead them to the hair store and the plastic surgeon.
As we falsely believe that we could be the children of Ham as preached from the white and black Christian pulpit...
We will die of false research and ignorance.
Once you were my Madonna and I found comfort in your embrace,
Once you were my base and I yours, upon it we built great cities, great civilizations.
Now it seems that our lives have taken separate paths that all lead to ruin.
So many of us having been birthed from the holds of slaveships, from the rape of black queens, from the tel-lie-vision.
The pyramids crumbling in air tainted by pollution, we crumbling to dust in air tainted by false rhetoric.
Our base once square has lost it definition.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE SCRIPT KILLA} FREEFORM COMBINATION FROM THE LION DOJO COMPOSED OF MANY STYLES
THE SOUND OF THE ETHEREAL BEING HE ERUPTING FROM REPOSE...
http://youtu.be/sekVJO0bl6E

This is that skrilla... that real deala that blasts from the mind.
This is that pure fyah which will burn through your soul and leave ashes which spawn new growth.This that y'all motherfuckers ain't ready for me that flows from my chest free.
Wayyyyy out there as I wave my hand and stars glittering fill the darkness of your mental skies.
A sigh as you wipe your eyes and breath the vapors... Somma dat straight gas rolled in a green sweet white owl... Loud and obscene.
This that
S
l
o
w
D
o
w
n
And that speed up.
This that skrilla guerilla script flip.
This that.

PARTICULATION 
Dust in the light floats
Such a panoramic prism
Gold reflections glint

From where I'm from a prison with no walls in the city Tallahassee called Springfield Arms but better known by its street name Joe Louis Street Projects...
From where I'm from we live hard... From the babies to the old people.
Been to many other places and done shit you might know bout, some shit you don't... some shit just plain made up as they tried to lock me away for three life sentences.
I stayed hard even in the toughest times, even when they tried to kill me by any means available.
From where I'm from people still dream... Dream of being free from the stigma attached to an address, 4 little numbers with so much meaning stamped in the back of an escapees brain... 1700 still remains. Bricks, blocks, wood and concrete...
I looking from a hill stand square as I remember seeing a man die, seeing a woman cry, seeing the children in the window as a man took their mom doggystyle.
Prisons dont always have walls.

LIONS BREAK FREE
A lion does not surround himself with tigers or dragons...
A lion surrounds himself with lioness's.
It is in this manner that lions remain lions.

I man who erupted onto the scene born of the need...
The need to survive as we subjected to the mentality genocide became the joke.
Laughed at on T.V. in full view as the men dress as ladies and the women act like bitches.
As some walk down city streets with their pants dropped to their knees... How you a soldier if you holdin up yo pants when you fight?
The brutal reality will stomp you down... Bury you beneath this foreign ground which absorbs our blood and sweat.
We got to be still around for a purpose as so many wait for divine intervention... The hand of God to smite our oppressors down as they spit vile stew from the pulpit and the pew... From the podium in the courtroom.
And what would you be? A painted ho or a bitch ass nigga serving life in the penitentiary... A king or a slave.
I spit hot lava flows as a result of my eruption.
I form new lands in the middle of savage seas where once we traveled in the belly of the beast.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{MAN STANDING ON LOVES FLOOR}
THE SOUND OF MAN SPEAKING UNTO LOVE...
http://youtu.be/mh094YhoCyE

And of Love I would ask, Wherefore art thou?
What cloud dost thou lie behind, I roaming the desert alone?
Love as thou inhabit the skies, the water, the dirt.
Love as thou dwell deep in my Lion heart.
I and love standing on the floor as adversaries, as old friends, as inspiration.
Love dost thou hold a tear for all my pain, would I implore as the winds of change whip around us.
As it whips the threads we wear.
A hat to shield us from the driving dust that the air circulates.
The blazing light of all this weight as it blasts onto our retina's.
Love in his manifestation as clear as the calm day.
Clarity in the midst of chaos cause Love don't change.
Love remains the same.
A remainder of all these things that have transpired over a millenia.
The harbinger of our deepest secrets.
I man would speakest these things to the being love as we stand at the foot of long shadows waiting for things to change.
My hand would I reach toward Love seeking to touch its solid core... to attain some of its peace in the midst of all this turmoil.
Love the cause and the cure.
Love the only way.
Love thou art the most beautiful conundrum.
The answer and the question.
One and the same.
I shouting these things while whispering unto Love.
The sun setting pon the desert floor as I and Love converse.
Bitter enemies and best friends.
Love would I implore...
Dost thou hear my roar?
These things wouldest I man Speak unto Love as day becomes night.

{PRESSURE DROP}
THE SOUND THAT ACCOMPANIES PURE PRESSURE
http://youtu.be/fLzWwme1UUg

Speak to we across the void...
The void of being ripped from our mothers womb and transplanted as sub-hue-mans...
Speak to we of the things we have lost, our hue-manity ripped to savage shreds and ground as dust into the very ground.
A lion roaring into the blackness of all that we are begging of these things... He begs these things.
He alluding to the blood of I brethren which calls from the dirt.
Make them pay for what they have done, a child awakening to a new dawn.
The fear of speaking these things as we traverse these barbaric lands... Rich and po got two different doors.
Gave we white religion to set themselves free, gave we a western education to eradicate we.
Speak to me of the power which flows in we veins , of the the potential in our mitochondrial dna, the melanin in we skin.
The spirals in we hair that contains spirals alluding to the cosmos.
Talk of the ones who have died at the hands of we brethren, the guns, ropes and choke holds of police in Ferguson, New York, and Tallahassee.
The ones who just plain got tired and finally laid down.
In mind and body... Just plain ass tired.
Speak to we in stereo so that the bass thumps and the treble tweets into we soul music so sweet as we dance around the tribal fire.
Warriors and Queens, little bitty babies and the elders.
Reflections in we eyes.
Tell us of stretch marks on a mothers belly as she bore children who would never be her own... The devastating reality of the system.
The eviscerating beatdown.
How we can rise.
We beg of thee to speak of these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

The following verses are from the bible...
The book of Deuteronomy...
 32 Your sons and daughters will be given to another nation, and you will wear out your eyes watching for them day after day, powerless to lift a hand.

It goes on to say...
49 The LORD will bring a nation against you from far away, from the ends of the earth, like an eagle swooping down, a nation whose language you will not understand, 50 a fierce-looking nation without respect for the old or pity for the young. 51 They will devour the young of your livestock and the crops of your land until you are destroyed. They will leave you no grain, new wine or oil, nor any calves of your herds or lambs of your flocks until you are ruined. 52

And in closing...

 64 Then the LORD will scatter you among all nations, from one end of the earth to the other. There you will worship other gods--gods of wood and stone, which neither you nor your fathers have known. 65 Among those nations you will find no repose, no resting place for the sole of your foot. There the LORD will give you an anxious mind, eyes weary with longing, and a despairing heart. 66 You will live in constant suspense, filled with dread both night and day, never sure of your life. 67 In the morning you will say, "If only it were evening!" and in the evening, "If only it were morning!"--because of the terror that will fill your hearts and the sights that your eyes will see. 68 The LORD will send you back in ships to Egypt on a journey I said you should never make again. There you will offer yourselves for sale to your enemies as male and female slaves, but no one will buy you.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!!!
THE MUSIC OF A MOST SMITTEN MAN...
http://youtu.be/NxP2OZkxGGg

Damnnnn!!!
Woman you make me wet...
A teardrop in your honor that drips from my phallic eye.
For you I would Guerilla Jack a whole army, crush it like so many fleas.
You my dear and that fabulous ass have smitten me and I swayed find myself dizzy.
For you would I sing a song in the most beautiful falsetto,scribe the worlds most lovely poem.
It so magnificent that a scholar reading it in the year 5017 would find his breath catching in his throat.
Pure astonishment at my level of commitment.
You the cause of so many wars and such desolation all because of two four letter words... Love and lust.
You and your remarkable ability to make me see beyond the parameters of this paltry existence.... Past , present and future merge as that ass sashay's past and I am swept along floating on the bounce.
Wanting to drink of your fount.
My phallic eye I would wipe on your thigh... use to explore thine depths, plunder your booty.
As I said before... Throw you down and Guerilla Jack that thang... Stand and let my hard thang swang.
Kiss your neck and whisper of my intentions... a savage beat on the drums of your inner ear.
Bring all your senses into play as I place my hand between your spread legs... touch of your moistness.
Rub my fingers together to test the viscosity.
Sniff it to test it purity.
I having fallen victim to the illustriousness of your vision.
Damnnnn!!! 

{NAKED} THE STORY RETOLD
THE SOUND AS WE BORN STAND NAKED AND LOOK INTO EACH OTHERS EYES...

 http://youtu.be/J0QQJfPi3ps

He awoke in the garden and she was looking at him...
Her eyes were like the sun, flecks of gold in the brown and he drawn in found it hard to breathe.
He stood naked from the earthen floor and she stood naked too.
Such a sight she was and he praised Allah.
Transfixed was he by her curves they seeming to explain so much...
The stars, the constellations and the 360...
He spoke to her and she overstood, spoke back and the words fell as music upon his eardrums.
Fire dancing across his synapses.
He stood naked and showed her the land, the animals and showed her water where she looked at the surface and saw her face.
The minnows beneath the skin as they flitted away.
 Her scent as fresh as the morning breeze wafted across his nose and he reached out to her, felt her softness as it molded against his skin...
She fitting him and he knew...
He would stand with her forever for they lived so long before the original sin...
A day, a millennium, ad infinitum.
 So strong were they together.
Nothing could stand in their way and they named the plants and the animals...
Found comfort in each others arms as the sun fell and the moon rose.
This was when it was all so simple... There was only Allah and man...
No religion, no war, no death of hue-mankind
This was before maybelline and perms, pedicures and contact lenses,,,
This was before he held a gun and killed his own kind...
They naked had everything...
He looked into her eyes as he stood naked and the story began.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{BLACK ASPHALT}
THE SOUND OF THE BLACK ASPHALT TRAVELER...
http://youtu.be/zldS3wg2HHk

These streets is hard...
A bitch betta recognize...
Get hard like these dummies I throw...
Be a diamond bat...
These streets will take a child, warp his mentality, make him his own worst enemy.
Crooked ass police and the Judge drops decrees of a very life...
A bitch betta recognize...
These streets will swallow you whole, chew you up and regurgitate you to their young...
Food for a future monopoly...
These streets will steal yo babies and have em trickin for molly...
Legs all spread at the trap house...
Young as hell and all the fucking way out there...
Gookin and shit...
These streets will kill yo dreams...
Shoot them bitches down with a 45...
Blood splattered on the corner store wall...
These streets will make yo ass, take yo ass if you are so inclined, spread yo ass as ashes after you die....
Dust in the fucking wind...
These streets can educate you if take the time... Sit back and watch how these streets run...
A little system created by a larger one...
Bring peace but carry a gun...
these streets don't give a fuck bout who yo mama nem is... who yo boys and nem...
Betta have a sharp ass mind...
These streets be treacherous...
Pay attention to these words.
These streets will fuck you up.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE SAD REALITY OF THE BEING ME AND THESE THINGS I SEE}
THE SOUND LAID OUT... YOU REALLY NEED TO LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/lYLx78DG0vQ


And I broke down and cried...
I cried for all the fucked up shit that I have done.
For the time I missed away from my babies cause I didn't want them to see the pain in my soul.
It now seems so selfish in retrospect.
I cried for my son who died in his sleep, last time I touched him he was so cold.
For the ones forgotten as we integrated and found false freedom which we would defend with our lives.
Pledging allegiance to a red, white and blue rag which has flown over every tragedy committed against our kind.
I cried and the tears hot ran down my wrinkles as I felt my soul torn from its foundations,
I thinking of preachers and teachers, priests and Rabbies spitting false rhetoric to the masses who just need something to believe in.
They giving money to God when children next door are starving, when pregnant mothers got to walk to church.
When there still exists ghetto.
I cried and my skies cloudy fell as rain on a parched desert floor, soaked in and caused flowers fragrant to grow.

They in turn gave pollen to the bees which made honey sweet for the masses to eat, manna from the heights of my being if only one would listen to my heartwrenching sobs.

The wail emanating from my very core.

Such a heavy weight knowing is when you walk among the deaf, dumb and docile... So many signs and cornerstones... Only one level and square.

Sadly the lion walks alone even though other lions inhabit the jungles of Babylon...

Sad is the reality of the consumer... Dirty Diva's and Young Thugs.

I feel to my knees and cried.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF FEELING YOU}
THE SOUND...SO FUNKY YO ASS BETTA LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/8-tGMYALKpo

She causeth I to salivate salaciously.
Oh my, I say exclamatoriously...
Out here where I can invent words and be the poet I was meant to be.
She is the black queen that drives my kingly and I in her honor and for her honor would crush a Billion regimes, fight a trillion raging beasts, bring tricknowledge to its bended knees and put a bullet in its head.
I be that dedicated to who you are.
What you represent.
Some of that primitive drum drop, see?
I thumps these keys and bumps these keys trying to get the people to dance round the freedom fire burning in mine blackened soul.
Your skin containing the nectar I, nay we need to survive.
The potion to cure the curse.
The elixer that would causeth I, nay we,  to be God and Earth.
Sun and moon.
The uni-vers- all.
My mind drools in pools of loving you to much to let go of that dream.
That all consuming thought that in space would be the anti-matter holding matter in place, in Asian philosophy the Yin and Yang.
Ancient times Isis and Osirus.
I slobbing at the thought of what we the prototypical could be, see?
Whew weee and you all brown, black and pecan tan have the become the land that accepts the caresses of my blackest seas.
For you I would funk a revolution...
Jimi Hendrix this shit...
Marvin Gaye smooth this shit...
Afrika Bambatta bump bang boogie this shit.
Black woman you make me have to use this paper as a towel to soak up the ink I'm slobbering in your honor.
All I ask is that you see...
See?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{CLARIFICATION}

{CLARIFICATION} 
THE SOUND OF CLARITY... THE BEAT...
http://youtu.be/0FZU-u23cnQ

There is no need to wonder from whence I come.
I come from the utter despair of a people who think that they originated in the belly of the beast that traveled the Atlantic seas.
I come from niggas who hung from oak trees and mammies who took care of little white babies who in turn grew up to commit other tragedies.
I come from a system that even today is a double standard and a people who forget until it happens again.
I come from the all of it and am the voice that is tired of it all.
I am the black man, the original man and the antitypical man.
I am the hue-man.
Hear my roar as it echoes across the cosmos and careens off of other planets eventually becoming the cosmic wind of change.
The force of I as I impact and become the one celled floating in a puddle of water.
The guerilla warrior fighting to free mentalities.
I come from some of that Tyler Perry and Spike lee nonsense, some of that Opra, Good Times praying to a white Jesus in a white mans ghetto created to keep niggas begging him on their knees to free em from the him that shot the young brother Micheal Brown down in cold blood.
From the black jurors who let a murderer go.
I am the woe and desperation, I am the mother who jumped off the slaveship and was eaten by sharks.
The boy who watched his father go to prison for trying to put food on the table in a system of unequal.
I am his seed as it pours hot and thick into a womb, fertilizing an egg and born covered in blood into a hard ass world.
There is no need to wonder from whence I come.
I just told yo ass.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WETTA)
THE FLUID SOUND...

I seek to make you wetta than you have ever been.
Sweat, pussy juice and tears of unbridled joy.
I seek to release the inner you that no one sees as you walk around looking all prim and proper.
The one that screams my name as your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.
The one that scratches the skin of my back leaving a savage tattoo.
A moment as I dig my fingers into your scalp and pull you hard onto my dick.
As I stretch the walls and pound at the back of your womb.
As I bury my face in your neck and sniff of your scent.
A moment as I feel you release on my dick and it flows down over my balls and dribbles to the sheets.
I still such a big booty loving, pussy licking beast.
I still the king of the jungle.
I suspended in the drops that listen on your quivering skin and drunk on your sound.
The slap slap as we beat the ancient beat.
As you grip me with your fingers, as you grip me with the petals of your lotus.
The lily that floats on serene waters and dances in the ripples elicited by the storms wind.
My mouth finding your nipples sucks and nibbles.
I tasting of your salt, a necessary part of life.
My seed boiling in the depths rages to be freed.
I hold back.
I my dear seek to make you wetta.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF DARKNESS AND LIGHT)
THE SOUND OF REALIZATION...
http://youtu.be/xGdSSSmdakk

Man conceived is born of darkness and light, two natures that war constantly.
Upon his entry into the light from the dark he screams his frustration and they the people celebrate.
He who found comfort in the darkness opens his eyes and the light reveals so much.
Sight, smell and sound.
It seems overwhelming, so much to digest.
It is in the light that man learns that darkness has stages and that he man derived from them.
That they exist in he and every other sentient being.
Man sets out to control his duality, the light against the darkness and the war wages unabated in his soul.
It shines through stained glass windows on Sundays and makes him cover his head at night.
The light, the dark that he sees shining in every man.
Man standing on street corner sees these things as the wind flutters the spun thread he wears, as it ripples through the branches of trees and the leaves fall, as man dying re-enters the darkness and the people wail.
Man of darkness, man of light.
Man existing in both worlds looks at the people as the scurry by, as they seek light without overstanding the simplest thing.
That light and darkness are one.
That without the other both could not exist.
That man existing religious cannot touch spirituality for spirituality embraces the whole.
The utter duality.
Man pulls his hat down and shades his eyes in darkness as he confronts the light.
Man overstanding walks in both.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A QUEENS PLACE)
THE SOUND...

Would you stand with me?
I mean would you place your back against mine and go toe to toe with the world for me?
Be my queen?
So many potential Nefertiti's, Isis's and Nandi's lost to materialism and class.
Lost to Brazilian weaves and million dollar dreams when their very skin color is rich.
Like chocolate and expresso.
When the enemy comes to claim our child and leads him or her away to be indoctrinated will you see the futility... The utter insanity?
When they put a portrait of a white man in his face at church or on the t.v. will you tell our baby the truth?
Will you tell my son to be warrior and my daughter to be the daughter of a warrior... The wife of a warrior, the mother of a warrior?
Independent cause her man is independent.
We conquered and divided in a strange land where the children have the power.
A finger on the cellphone pad.
Dialing 911 till the police come and take parents away.
Take the child and make him hate himself or herself as images flash cross the screen.
Grimacing gold teeth and thot... Guns and another nigga slain by the ignorance rapped staccato.
If I put a ring on your finger and a pistol on your hand would you be ready to fight for ours?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A KIND OF MAN)
THE SOUND OF THE BLADE SWISHING AND THE BULLET WHINING...

And kind of man standing began to flex his muscle, exert control over other men while taking away individuality.
Oh how the masses became so weak that they fought for the man who was royalty when in fact all his power was theirs.
They tricked became whores to the system, fucked at birth, fucked in the schools, fucked in the courtroom as the judges and lawyers enjoyed the orgy.
They let him sell them thinly veiled stories and straight Saddam Hussein, Ben Laden lies, royalty creating conflict and destroying lives.
Only enough ZMAPP for the white folks... Ha Ha motherfucker that's the joke.
Such a story of misplaced trust as the religious have become the gears and cogs of the machine.
Grinding, growing old and being replaced.
Same headline as yesterday.
Black Man Killed By the Police, Black Man Killed By a Black Man,
Black Man Killed By His Education.
Taught that to be equal he got to be the equal of a white man when the very thought of that is hypocrisy...
What fool wants to be the beast?
So much blood on his hands as he cannabalistic swallows the very soul of who we once were.
Way before slavery, segregation and the penitentiary...
Way before black men were called the disease.
Man standing stretched and flexed a bicep.
Looked at his wrist and saw the scars of the chains, of the shackles that he had shattered with the power of his mind.
No king, no ruler and no bounds.
Let there be light.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(NOCTURNALLY) EROTIQUE
THE SOUND OF A LUCID MEMORY...
http://youtu.be/BcdaDdlNSGU

No matter how much I consciously try to forget you my subconscious pulls you up.
I find myself feeling you even though that time clearly has passed.
My heartbeat growing faster and my loins grow heavy.
I swept along as you undress and lay on the floor and spread your phat full thighs for me.
Ask me if that's what I like.
Your thick nipples fill my mouth.
I suck as I fall into your pussy.
As you stroke the inches of my meat.
As you remark on the thickness and throw it back.
I grabbing your ass cheeks and driving deep.
I kissing you as I feel the fluttering pulsations of your sugar walls.
The thumping in my pens.
The head as it swells.
I once loved you so much that no other woman could come between us and I see your juice as it squirts from your clit.
A fountain that I drank from time and time again.
It giving me life...
It giving me strength.
I cum deeply into you and pull out as you fade.
I awake and find myself alone.
Sticky from our nocturnal encounter.
I still love you in my dreams.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BABY) THE XXX RATED VERSION
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/uJZqhADszQ8

Baby you got such a pretty punani, it making I so dizzy as I reflect it in my brown and white optical orbs.
Drink it in and it shoots images straight to my brain.
A fraction of a second so small that measured it would become a number so infinitesimal yet so profound.
See baby your punani it talks to me... It says "Lick me Daddy... Awwww beat me Daddy."
It fucks me up and fills my ears with song.
Blood rushing to my loins where my pole grows thick and heavy... Makes my balls hurt with the need ti fill you with my cum as you cum... As I taste of you fluid and warm.
Baby your punani is the saving of me from the drudgery of self manipulation... The agony of hearing you and not being able to... To touch you.
The sounds of you exploding electronic in my headphones as I explode roaring in yours.
Baby all you got to say is a word...
Well two.
"Come here."
Baby I will come to you and speak such sweet words to your punani that you sighing will fall gently back and erupt from bud, spread your petals and shine resplendent in your splendor.
Baby you got such a pretty punani.
Mmmmm.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE SHATTERED SCATTERED REMNANTS OF A REBUILT HEART)
THE SOUND...

You broke my heart into a portrait reminiscent of the billions of stars that are in the sky.
Eye fractured and scattered and left for dead.
Eye fragmented.
A bitter reminder that love is not promised to everyone.
The fire of my pain grew and threatened to consume the cosmos of my overstanding... The realm of my existence.
Eye sitting on the dark floor of nothingness collapsed into my hollow core and became the night.
The form standing over the bed...
The unknown in the sky where clouds block the light.
The unseen.
And Lo!
A spark in the extreme distance became the rushing roar.
The big bang.
A pineal wave of destruction and rebirth as the dragon and the lion merged and ignited the landscape as man rearranged became forged titanium steel.
A most lovely thing as eye weld evicerating lyrics and solar wind syntax.
Love you have served to make eye strong.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DEEP AND LOW)
THE SOUND... THIS PIECE WAS WRITTEN TO THIS MUSIC SO LISTEN...

A second as I engage you, take you to my lair.
Show you the soft side of the beast while remaining hard.
So fucked up in your juicy.
Where I a man, a beast wanna be.
A Skeet a Skeet a skeeeetttt all over the blossom of your lotus.
All over the mounds, valleys and curves of your phat full exterior.
You make me wanna be the drop...
The spatter glistening in the soft light.
The sigh caught on a short breath...
An exclamation.
As I beast, man, beast?  Flip between these realms.
Looking at you I am reminded that you are indeed queen.
As I minister to your royal needs.
Between the sheets.
On these streets.
Drifting on the dizzying heights of your pheromones.
I as bird flutter on your wings.
Vibrating, humming, strumming.
The honey so sweet.
You as I push your legs back and let you sit pon my beard.
A second please...
I want to engage you.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DEMENTIA)
THE SOUND OF LYRICS BEING RECONSTRUCTED AS THEY ARE RIPPED FROM NON EXISTENCE...
http://youtu.be/H9WMWyzN6-

A mad poet sits with the elements of a scribe floating in the air surrounding him.
He reaches out and touches a fragment of the alphabet... Feeling it nucleonic weight.
He let's it go and around it the other letters radiate and become alive with the glow.
The mad writer reaching out again absorbs them and transcribes in a hazy daze.
He blinking in and out of this existence.
His surroundings becoming a dull hum.
The people becoming the sum of all that have ever lived... All who have loved... Have hated.
The mad writer seeing their ancestors past.
Oh how the mad writer wishes he had not learned how to travel thusly but he was born this way.
Ahhhh to be sheep but the curse of the mad writer is lion.
His claws are graphite and ink, paint and charcoal, they have carved into rock.
His teeth titanium steel.
The mad writer sits back and takes a breath and he is back in this eventuality.
His letters hidden in one of his other dimensions.
He gathers his things and sheaths his claws.
He walks among man as man.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Thy eyes as the guide and I am swept into the void.
I am become as ether and I am absorbed.
Would that I could describe thine profound effect on the depth of mine scribe... Mine ascension from the triple stages where I beast roamed looking for victims.
Taking of the fruit... Dropping seed.
The mists swirling as my appearance was made known to all I encountered.
In mine memories where I an egg in an ancestors womb was African.
An embryo in stasis waiting to be born to die.
That is where thy light was a guide... A fire burning in the krall as knowledge was divulged to a young warriors ears.
In my memories I hear mine peoples screams and smell the blood as it cries from the soil... From the Atlantic ocean floor.
A slave somewhere in Georgia as I a slave work for free.
Stand in the field and feel the breeze as it washes over mine sun darkened skin.
Thy shine... Thy shine, and I present see the same mentality... Slave... Free.
You a most poignant reminder.
Thou queen...
Thou empress created in Allah's lab are the pinpoint of brilliance sparked in I and I as I here reside.
The atypical origination of mine philosophy.
I who have never died even though I buried have turned to dust.
Thine eyes...
They shine...
They shine.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(EYE SPEAK)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS REVELATION... THIS BEAT IS EXQUISITE...
http://youtu.be/M-ekE3Wz8ug

Eye speak dese torn from the red clay degrees as the masses they fall ever more victim to the forgetting disease.
Eye once cried cause the solution seemed so simple in a child's mind as I watched reality ripple then dimple...
Creased so sharp that it broke and shattered into tattered shards...
Saw them glittering like diamonds scattered on the urban dance floor where all so many want is more.
More food, more money, more time.
Eye see silicone booties bouncing on my t.v. as these women try to be?
As these men try to be women, see?
Eye speak... Eye speak.
Eye see and these things they drop me to my knees as I pray for the 7 heavens to open up and answer a sons pleas.
To send some release.
To cure the plague sweeping the land as the full magnitude of the illuminati's plan is revealed.
The blood as foretold is spilled
Sun touching mountain peak as eye...
Eye speak.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN

{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN WHO WAS THE FIRST GIRL I EVER HAD A CRUSH ON IN MY LIFE AND WHO STILL REMAINS A ROCK THAT I LEAN ON.
I HOPE  THAT SHE OVERSTANDS THE PROFOUND IMPACT KNOWING HER HAS HAD IN MY LIFE.
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... PLEASE LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/4wwO1FS8x1Q

My heart in its caverns cries your name and I see you in my dreams as the balance.
I am turmoil as I have sought you across continents, on islands, as I have stared at calm and stormy seas.
Salt water in my dreads and on my bald head.
In the hairs of my wisdom that hang from my chin.
The world so afflicted could use us as the cure.
We the vaccine that inoculates whole generations against the ignorance of societies past.
I in my sleep must have cried your name a hundred thousand times and yet I find myself not remembering it.
Even as a boy when Karen was all I saw.
Such pretty red skin.
I must have called your name, and I strain to remember how your voice sounded so long ago.
That first crush so detrimental to who I am.
The writer, the griot.
The African freedom fighter.
I am disharmony without you and these days seem so hollow.
What am I?
Who am I?
I see the sun setting in the sky, the pink thread and I fight sleep cause it takes me to a place where I must see you time and time again and wake alone.
Face the masses as a lonesome stranger.
I looking for the other half of my soul.
Would that I could hold out my hands and manifest you... Right here, right now.
I looking to my cupped hands pray for you to appear.
Reflecting the light of Allah onto my brownish red skin.
Light reflecting in my hazel brown eyes.
My heart, my heart it cries your name as We become the refrain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/Fi1Ca8bW7Mw
I told her I loved her lips and she smiled.
Such a pretty thing that smile and I reached out and brushed the skin on the back of her hand.
Looked into her eyes.
Tried to get her to feel my need and I watched her chest as her breath calm rose and fell in her breast.
Looking back into her eyes I broadcast my need as she receptive perceived it and let me lead her to the chair where I sat her down and bent to my knees.
Sat back on them and talked to her.
The sundress she wore such a flimsy thing that I could see her naked nipples press against the cloth as they grew erect.
Pressed their image into my optics.
She knowing that I wanted to see parted her thighs and the jutting mound of her mons venerous pressed against the satiny panties that she wore and I reached out and touched her there.
She was already warm and damp and I pulled them to the side.
I told her I loved her lips and I ran my fingers between them as she shuddered and sighed.
I leaning forward kissed them and she moaned.
I sought the button of her clit and rubbed it with my tongue sucked it into my mouth and hummed.
It growing firm and plump reminded me of a morsal of fruit and I sucked the juice that she produced.
It in my mustache... In my beard... In my psyche.
She begged for me to fill the void and I produced my manhood placed it in her hand and told her to put it where she needed it.
She pulled me forward and rubbed it in her slit and the drop of pre-cum on its head became a wet stick string a moment before she arched her back and pulled me in.
My breath caught in my throat released in a rush as I plunged in and pushed all the way to the back.
Pulled all the way out and pushed back in as she squirting came and produced lubrication.
It allowing me to caress her in her very depths.
Her legs pushed back to the bed as she shook her head from side to side and screamed loudly.
Her screams and mine mingling to produce a song of savage sexuality.
Of sweet satisfaction.
I looking at her face bent down and thrust my tongue into her lips.
I penetrating both sets as she became my slave... My mistress... My empress.
I becoming her slave... Her master her king.
The sweat of our exertion bearing testament to that fact.
I slamming into her erupted and fell away as she rubbed my overflow into her skin.
I leaning over kissed her lips.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(PRODIGAL)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/MDXIxl1QRtM

I who was born Guerilla in an urban landscape.
I who was born fighting and scraping cause my skin black did not allow the masses to see my peoples potential.
The full manifest of my solar energy as I flare, sending winds racing cross galaxies encased epidermic.
The cosmos of stars walking around unaware... Dim memories of what they could be... They having become sheep.
I lion lounging on the plain having seen all these things in late night dreams, visions on a subconscious screen where souls scream as they fall into the pit of startling revelation that so many call death.
They wishing they could come back from the flow.
Warn the masses that they have been decieved, that this is not who we are designed to be.
I from the comfort of cover spit these teflon clad rounds into the cowering crowd political.
I walking pump rounds into their inert forms... Wouldn't want them to suffer cause even the Guerilla has compassion.
They departing scream...
Music so sweet to the sufferings ears that they welcome the prodigal son as he walks up scarred and torn.
He reborn The Urban Guerilla.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THERMONUCLEAR DYNAMICS)
THE SOUND OF THIS THINK...
http://youtu.be/jQxnq9640lQ

And this Florida sunshine makes one reflect... On creation, on our formation.
Mine first in a garden called Eden by the beast who came and corrupted our name.
Yet that tale is what we are living now and I... I want to stay in this garden where your skin shines like black gold in my mind.
Where we are lord and queen.
This Florida sunshine I wander was it brighter back then when the air was clearer.
When we the lords came through here and mingled with the natives.
Were the trees greener?
Did the water taste sweeter?
I wonder?
Fountains of youth and all that.
Springs from the well... The earth.
You giving I something to seek.
Even if I never attained it you gave me hope.
Allah is so magnificent for this gift which some have broken down to a four letter word.
The first glimpse of thee must have sent volts of current racing to every nerve ending in the first man's body.
It must have shook the very ground that they two=one formed stood on.
Angels bearing witness to the tremendous pressure.
Man and woman erupting on the scene.
This Florida sunshine got I and I reaching into the Florida air and pulling alphabetics to complete this scroll.
Oh why... Oh why was I born?
Brought to these seven hills?
This city T'allah'assee?
Standing here I look pon your form meditatively.
You so reminiscent of our beginnings in the cradle of life.
I and you born fully mature infants...
I and you ripped from the fire as carbon... Ripped from the dirt as earth.
This Florida sunshine caressing we.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHE LIVES IN MY LAB) DEDICATED TO MY LOVELY MODEL CANDACE LIGER
THE MUSIC...

I mad scientist standing in my laboratory look at the equations scribbled on the blackboard... Click on computer keys and examine thy double helix under the microscope.
I mad scientist stroke my grey and black beard and start the construction of you...
Hmmmm freedom of choice, let me mix some of that in.
Brown skin a must as I continue the build.
My mind contemplating the possibilities threatens to explode the hypothetical you into existence as reality before my hands can build you...
A nipple... The muscles that ripple in your legs... The deep brown pools of your eyes as I mad scientist reflect on the fact that once a scientist greater than I built our ancestors in his laboratory, gave me the means to reconstruct us both if only we were to unlock the key.
It hidden somewhere in our flesh, our blood, our psyche.
I the mad scientist sip my coffee and pull on my blunt.
So much work to do...
So much work to do.
I seeking the key gaze upon thee...
I scratching my bald head and trying to unravel the mystery us
The key...
The key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WATERS EDGE DOJO) SENRYU... DEDICATED TO VERY DEAR FRIEND OF MINE FROM BACK IN THE DAY WHEN I WAS A MEMBER OF THE LYRICAL ASSASSINS, MARSHA NELSON. SHE IS ALSO ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I KNOW.
THE MUSIC... YOU BETTER LISTEN CAUSE IT SETS THE MOOD
http://youtu.be/NCaH-qqTWpk

(THE KOI POND)
She white lotus floats
The pond serene captivating
The bees wings beat

(A SLIGHT DEPARTURE)
Water reflects sun
Breeze in weeping willows leaves
Whispering of life

(AHHHH THE WONDER)
The waters skin swells
A swirl and the koi appears
His colors vibrant

(OF NATURE)
He exudes beauty
The lily and the koi dance
Crickets on fiddle

(COALESCING)
They are harmony
They the melody hum unique
They speak of calm

(INTO NIGHT)
Sun falls from sky slow
Trees the final curtain call
Lotus fades away

(I LOVE YOU SO)
THE SOUND... DON'T MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/y12PlyjCXGA

When my world crumbling trickled through my fingertips and became sand filtering through the waist of the hourglass of time.
When my universe stood still and threatened to leave me suspended, naked and exposed in the vacuum...
Wandering in desolation and dying inside.
I man closed my eyes and caressed your visage with my psyche.
It seeming to be the only thing that could free me from the crushing conspiracy.
Your image became the bricks made of straw and clay that I used to rebuild my house, my city, my world.
Gold glittering mixed in, diamonds reflecting off the moisture of your teardrops...
The pain of us dying, knowing our children left behind would still be slaves.
Their children would serve the same system that had raped you so viciously...
Left me an example cooling on a slab as they cut away at my body.
Distorting evidence to hide the fact that they cursed my superiority.
The fact that though they had tried genocide we still survived... A reminder of their continuing crimes against hue-manity.
A reminder that monsters most often wear homo-sapien skin.
That a smile can also mean evil things.
I knowing these things opened my eyes and sought you out.
Trying to explain as bullets bearing my name fell spent to the ground.
As you wavering in and out of substance remained the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.
I reaching down to gather the grains.
Picking them up and trying to rebuild you in the image of Isis...
The image of Queen Sheba...
The image of Nandi...
Trying to carve you from the crumbling world that I once in Allah's chambers held in my hands.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ACQUIESCE)
THE SOUND AS A MAN DOTH PONTIFICATE...

What doth thou withhold from me? What secrets lie buried in thy darkened skin. Thou hast never ceased to amaze me. Eye the warrior pause to peruse thee flower growing wild in an urban setting. Eye finding thou beauty invigorating and thy scent enticing inhale deeply. Eye admire thy stems that rooted are the stand as thou bursting from bloom spread. Thou threaten to send Eye swooning to the ground. A petal spinning down. Landing softly and with great weight. Thee and Eye art change... Eye in wonder at thine ability to reproduce even in the hardest of times. Thy secrets embedded yet exposed and naked if only one were to look. Stop for the briefest of moments and contemplate... Capitulate to the Noun thee and Eye personified.
These things withheld... So seldom seen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE DANCE OF THE BLACK WARRIOR)
THE SOUND OF THE WARRIORS RETURN...
http://youtu.be/b6cOAdsDx24

In the firelight the warrior transcends as his shadow seems to extend into the darkness at the fringes of the circle where he dances.
The women in this state wail as the drums beat.
As the warriors spirit seems to become the spirit of the tribe.
The taut skin of the drum speaks to the Melanin in the warriors skin and he stomps the rage of his soul into the dirt and the dust rising mingled with the perspiration on his skin.
He lost to the percussion submits to the beat and feels the blood of his father and his fathers father coursing through his veins.
He feels it as it is pumped through the left and right ventricles of his throbbing heart...
The thump thumping bass threatens to tear him apart and he dances to expel this this people freeing earth shattering energy.
The power of ten billion suns and the radiating effect as it takes hue-man form.
He who was thought dead has arisen.
He thousands of years separated from the prototypical who walked in a garden with Allah.
Spoke with him.
Built a fire and danced under an ancient constellation.
His shadow falling away into the darkness speaking of origin as the women wail and the drumbeats...
They telling the tale of we.
They speaking the tale of he.
The message careening pineal it pounding to be beheld.
It begging to be heard above the cacophony of ignorance as it blasts modern... Electronically.
The warrior evolved now dances pon the screen.
He bathed in the glowing light transcends.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BLUE SKIES, SHE, AND I THE BREEZE) DEDICATED TO MAGUEDA JACKSON.
THE SOUND... DON'T MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/RBtNwdqdEng

She touches me stratospherically, dropping degrees as I become the wind beneath her skirt.
Blowing up and caressing her secret places.
I longing to be in her thoughts as she feels me against her skin.
I the cooling of her burning flames...
Passion the bonfire casting embers into dark skies where I am the layers protecting her from the vacuum of space...
The holder of her imagination...
The light blue me refracted into the sunny day...
A field laid out and spread into infinity.
The limits of vision.
I out here where there are no limits.
She having carried me there on a whim.
An allusion to her ability to be anything she wants to be.
I from my perch precarious singing of she.
Listening for her voice to save me from the brink of nonexistence that looms at the possibility of not knowing her.
I need her touch.
It is my healing.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE SOUL SURVIVOR) DEDICATED TO CHERYL SWEETHONEY WHOM I PERSONALLY FOR THROUGH A BATTLE WITH CANCER AND REMAIN A BRIGHT SPIRIT...THANK YOU FOR THE PHOTO EMPRESS
THE MUSIC... THIS SONG IS DEDICATED TO YOU EMPRESS...
http://youtu.be/rbpvTR-pVCc

I wonder if you know that you to me are the epitome of lioness.
Such a pure survivor art thou.
I having seen you rise, fall and stand yet again.
I having seen you deal with what some would call tragedy.
You made it the smooth path that fell underneath your feet as you continued on your journey.
As you picked up speed spread your wings and sailed into the atmosphere.
You hanging on thermal suspended and resplendent.
Such sweethoney as you coated the receptors of my mind.
Saturated me with your particular flavor.
I shivering at the intensity of you on my palate.
The cool refreshing, invigorating extent of your aura as you came into my perimeter and lay on the blanket spread as banquet.
A picnic on the riverbank of creation where life erupts from the primordial ooze.
Crawls to the sand grows legs and walks away anew.
I looking on in amazement feel your name as it vibrating leaves my lips.
Lioness....
Lioness.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DELIRIOUSLY)
THE SOUND...

Ah to push up on thee and treat thy flower roughly... Gently.
Sweetly manipulating thy stem till you shudder in the breeze.
Ah to throw you down and watch as you panties peak from beneath your sundress.
As your mound calls my name.
"Beast cum hither"
Such a Succulently succinct roar at the base of my brain.
In my pleasure center a dazzling rain.
Your legs pushed back... Dementia...
Where was I ?
Ah yes talking of how I want to pleasure your inner and outer sides.
Suck at your breast and lick the backs of your knees...
Rub the walls of your womb with my swollen head... Ahhhh the remarkablity... Language in the heat of passion unbound.
Throw you on your knees and mount you so forcefully that you are driven trembling to the floor...
A little hump in your back as you push it back.
I driving need fucking you as you driving need fuck me.
If I was polite I would call it making love but politeness escapes me in the mode beast.
I biting, scratching, pulling and pushing.
Holding you tight... Rubbing you lightly.
Surrender thyself to me... Let me take it...
Those pretty flower petals call to me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY