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Thursday, February 27, 2014

(SHE PRESENTED SUCCULENTLY)



(SHE PRESENTED SUCCULENTLY)
THE POUNDING BEAT OF SHE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uu-ymMmp3U&feature=youtube_gdata_player
And here I a man stand lost in the aura of your presentation as it fragments into my biophysicals.
Flows through my veins as magma building pressure to explode as lava.
You the catalyst for my sexual as well as my psychic release.
I broken down to my cellular structure and rearranged as guerilla warrior surrounded by bricks, concrete and glass.
The softness I seek found in the hard of you... The resolution... The fortitude.
A moment as I drink it all in and burn like wildfire across the plains of your physicality... Consume you in my flames... The rays of the sun becoming solar winds.
We scorching fall to the sheets and consumate... Drops of wet and warm as we touch and sink into each other pores.
Slide across the expanses of our flesh and collapse relieved of our pressures.
We lost in the aftermath of the little death touch softly and whisper on the way to blissful dreams.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Sunday, February 23, 2014

WORLDS APART ACT ONE

(WORLDS APART)
ACT ONE.

SCENE ONE. SETTING: Modern day earth. A bedroom with one window. Sunlight filters in and we hear the sounds of a city awakening. There is a bed and a dresser and clothes are on the floor like someone was to tired to pick them up. There is a form in the bed and we see the form begin to stir.

JAKARI sits up and stretches, he scratches his head and eventually stands. We see that he is a young man of about 20 or 21 years of age and he has a semi-athletic build. Not remarkable but not average either. He is wearing a white T-shirt and some boxers. He looks about the room and finds what he is looking for and he picks his pants up off the floor and sits back on the bed as he pulls them on. He leaves the room and we hear him peeing and he flushes the toilet and we hear the sound of water running and it shuts off. He re-enters the room and sits back on the bed. He reaches behind him and picks up the remote that he finds in the bed and turns on his stereo and the sounds of {Nightmares on Wax "Flip Ya Lid"} fill the room as he reaches onto the nightstand beside his bed and picks up a sack of weed and starts to twist a blunt. We can tell by his proficiency that this is a daily occurrence. There is a knock on his door and JOHN peeks his head in. He is JAKARI'S roommate and they have been friends for a long time.

JOHN Whats up Jakari? I thought I heard you stirring around in here. You need a light for that?

JAKARI Yeah man, what the hell you doing up so early bro?

JOHN Man I got to take this girl home.

JAKARI What girl?

JOHN The one from the club last night. Remember I gave her my number? Well she called and we both wanted the same thing sooooo.

JAKARI Man yo ass is a trip.

JOHN Man shut yo ass up and fire that shit up.

A young black woman in panties walks by the door and we hear a door close and water run. The men light the blunt and pull on it. The girl walks into the room and she has on no shirt and she is not embarrassed by the fact that she wears no shirt. She walks in and introduces herself.

SHEANTE Hi i'm SHEANTE she says as JOHN passes her the blunt. She pulls on it and they talk as if there is not a half naked woman standing in the room.

JAKARI So what do you do SHEANTE?

SHEANTE. I work at the blue flame.

JAKARI So you dance. He looks at JOHN when he says that and by the look you can tell that JOHN does his a lot. Brings women like this home.

SHEANTE Yes I do.

JOHN So tell him where you are from.

SHEANTE North Dakota.

At this both of the men burst out laughing and JAKARI is pulling the blunt and his laughter is mixed with coughing.

SHEANTE looks confused as she asks: "Whats so funny.'

JOHN laughs and says "We finally found the one black person in North Dakota who is not in jail. As he and JAKARI fall back into laughter again.

SHEANTE looks blank and JAKARI explains through his laughter. "There aint but two niggers in North Dakota and both of them are in jail.

SHEANTE LAUGHS at that remark and says there are black people in North Dakota.

JOHN says "How many black people went to your high school?"

SHEANTE looks at him and says "About 25."

JOHN and JAKARI look at each other and burst out laughing again. SHEANTE smiles sheepishly and says "That is not funny."

ACT ONE: SCENE TWO. It is later in the day and We find JAKARI downstairs in the living room sitting at a desk which is in front of a bay window with cushions in it. He leans back and looks around for a second before he opens a drawer of the desk and pulls out a picture. He looks at it and sighs and we can see that this picture holds some importance to him. JOHN walks in from his room and says Bro no matter how much you look at that picture you are not going to be able to bring her back." JOHN looks up and says "I know that bro but I dont think that I am ever going to find someone like her. I do miss her bro."

JOHN Man you need to get over that, she is gone and you need to get on with the rest of your life. You are still young and you have so much living to do. It was not your fault. what happened happened and if it was meant for you you would be right where she is now. It was not your time to go and you need to realize that.

JAKARI That is way easier to say than do bro. It seems like I can almost be about to forget that day, the days that she was in my life and then all of a sudden I see her in a dream or in the raindrops. I see her in the sky when I look up and on the ground when I look up. I miss her bro.

JOHN I know bro but you gotta let this shit go. "When was the last time you left this damn house except to go to work at the magazine and I know for a fact that you do most of that shit from home so you don't have to go as often. All that you are doing is hiding from the world. JOHN walks out of the front door of the house and JAKARI is left alone. He sits in place for a minute and stares off into space. He starts to write when all of a sudden he hears a voice. Someone is crying and it sounds as if it coming from one of the rooms. He stands and walks to the door of his room which is on the right of the room he is in and opens the door he looks in and sees no one and he closes the door and crosses to the door of JOHN'S room he opens the door and looks in. There is no one there either and he closes the door. He walks around and checks the closet and looks in the door of the kitchen. He stands in place for a minute and he says "What the hell." The cries stop and the voice of a woman says "Who said that?" JAKARI looks around and speaks into the empty room "Its me."

The VOICE says "Me who? Where are you? How did you get in my room?"

JAKARI This is my house and my living room, where are you? He looks around and the frustration is clear on his face.

TheVOICE No this is my room of books and my place of waking and sleeping. Where are you? the frustration is clear in the woman's voice as well.

JAKARI I am here and you are as well. Where is here to you?

The VOICE My place of waking and sleeping.

JAKARI Okay I do not know what that means. I mean where is home? I live on Joe Louis Street.

The VOICE. What is home? What is street?

JAKARI JAKARI looks around confused and says "What the fuck?" under his breath. Out loud he says. What do you mean what is street?"

The VOICE I mean what is this street thing that you talk of? I live in quadrant six, sector 3 in the peoples quarter.

JAKARI What is that?

The VOICE It is where I live.

JAKARI Looks around and asks the room "Is this some kind of a prank or something?"

The VOICE Starting to fade away says "A prank? what is this thing prank?"

JAKARI Hey whats happening? I cant hear you.

The door opens and JOHN walks in.

JOHN Man whats up? We got any more of that diesel left? I needs to smoke.

JAKARI Man thats a nice trick.

JOHN looks at him in bewilderment.

JOHN Man I do not know what the fuck you talkin bout but you reaalllly needs to stop smoking if its gonna do you like that.

JAKARI Man you telling me you didn't have nothing to do with what just went on here?

JOHN Bro I just pulled up. what the fuck are you talking bout.

JAKARI looks at him for a brief second

JAKARI Awww nothing man I was just fucking with you.

The men sit at the bar and start to talk and roll a blunt as the scene fades to black.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

WORLDS APART... ACT TWO

(WORLDS APART)
ACT TWO:
SCENE ONE:
SETTING:

Modern day Bamboola, a moon orbiting the planet Ra 17. A bedroom with huge openings in octagonal shapes with orange light filtering in, there are sounds coming from the street below. People talking in an alien language. Strange animal cries. There is a large bed in the center of the room and the covers cover a form which stirs and eventually throws back the covers.
MERESANKH Throws the covers from her form and stands, she is a splendid figure indeed. We see that she is rather tall and while not thin she is muscular for a female. As we look closer we notice that there are some things that are different about her. Her eyes are all black like her skin and she walks rather gracefully. More like an animal than a human. Yet we can see that she is clearly human or some derivative thereof. There is a light fur on her body and it to is a shade like her skin. We can see it as it shines. She has no need to wear a lot of clothes and the skirt and the blouse that she wears are semi transparent. Her hands end in long nails more like claws than the nails of a human on earth.

MERESANKH Stands and walk into a room adjacent to the one she is in and we hear the sound of water being ran. she is only gone for a minute and as she walks back in the room she presses a button and the sounds of the street subside. There is a knock on her door and she says "Enter."

ABAALISABA Peeks into the room and say's "My sister. It is good to see that you make morning with us."

MERESANKH My brother it is good to see you make morning as well. May your day be blessed upon your rising.

ABAALISABA And yours my sister. He walks towards her and extends his hand. MERESANKH takes his hand and lowers her eyes. ABAALISABA puts his hand under her chin and raises her face.

ABAALISABA It pains me to see you so trapped in the pasts of our goings my sister.

MERESANKH It is in our goings that we are found my brother. Their voices still fill my waking and my lying down, I cannot escape them. Our parents and my husbands. They haunt me with every step that I take. They echo into my whole and there is no relief from them.

ABAALISABA Sometimes my sister it seems a gift becomes a curse and it is your power that has become your weakness. I hurt for you my sister but you must overcome the goings. Then and only then will you be happy.

ABAALISABA Turns and walks from the room. There are no goodbyes, it is not the custom.

MERESANKH Sits on the bed and looks off into space for a second and there is another knock on the door and she answers "Enter." KHAMA'AT Opens the door and walks in. She is a little older than MERESANKH and her face is a little plainer but it looks good on her. She is very confident and we see that in her bearing. She is MERESANKH'S Sister in law and even though their personalities are different she and MERESANKH behave more like sisters than in-laws. She says "It is good to see you make morning my sister."

MERESANKH As it is good to see you make morning my sister. They embrace and sit on the bed as they begin to talk.

KHAMA'AT My little sister your pain pains your brother and I. What can we do to take you away from this pain. You have not left the gates of this home in many periods of rotation. The light and the dark finds you like a ghost roaming the halls. Sitting in the room of books. My sister you are the most important thing to me besides my husband and I want to share in your joy yet I am confined to your misery. She takes the hand of MERESANKH and places it to her forehead and then to her lips. "My life force is your life force my sister.

MERESANKH Looks into KHAMA'AT'S eyes and breathes deeply. "My sister in you has my brother found peace but my peace is gone away into the goings, his body turned to ash. Such little time we had together and I am left listening to his whispers as they come and go. For some reason we still remain bound even in the going.

KHAMA'AT Sighs and stands, My sister I am sure that you will find a way to overcome the pain. Trust that I will walk with you. Let us go and make the morning meal together.

MERESANKH AND KHAMA'AT stand and leave the room together.

ACT TWO: SCENE TWO: MERESANKH sits in a room where she is surrounded by books, she sits silently and closes her eyes. We hear sounds like whispers in the air and she sighs as she seems to fall under their spell. After a moment she begins to cry and a voice is heard loud and clear.

The VOICE "What the hell."

MERESANKH Instantly stops crying and says to the empty room ""Who said that?"

The VOICE "Its me."

MERESANKH "Me who? Where are you? How did you get in my room?"

The VOICE This is my house and my living room, where are you?

MERESANKH No this is my room of books and my place of waking and sleeping. Where are you?

The VOICE I am here and you are as well. Where is here to you?

MERESANKH My place of waking and sleeping.

The VOICE Okay I do not know what that means. I mean where is home? I live on Joe Louis Street.

MERESANKH What is home? What is street?

The VOICE "What the fuck? What do you mean what is street?"

MERESANKH I mean what is this street thing that you talk of? I live in Quadrant six, Sector 3 in the peoples quarter.

The VOICE What is that?

MERESANKH It is where I live.

The VOICE "Is this some kind of a prank or something?" The VOICE is fading.

MERESANKH "A prank? what is this thing prank?" The voice is gone and MERESANKH looks about in confusion as she yells to the empty room. "Come back." She looks around before she yells again "Come back!"

The door opens and KHAMAAT looks in, MERESANKH who do you make the small roar for?

MERESANKH Looks around and says "Did someone just pass you in the great room my sister?

KHAMA'AT Looks at her in a strange way and says "Are you okay my sister? There is no one here but us. Your brother attends the council meeting and we are alone to ourselves. Are you sure that you are of the best way now?

MERESANKH Catches the turmoil in her sister in laws voice and says quickly "I am of the best way my sister I was just asking. I thought I heard something fall. Thats all.

KHAMA'AT Okay my sister do you mind if I sit with you as the day progresses. I would like to discuss some things with you. The business of the place of our waking and our lyings must be attended to and I need your insights.

MERESANKH Come my sister. KHAMA'AT walks to her and sits beside her and they start to discuss things as the scene fades to black.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Friday, February 21, 2014

(FREEFLOW DRAGON DOJO)
THE SOUND OF DRAGON FYAH...

Baby you make me flow completely... Building as I drop goat rider's to bended knees... Signs and symbolism as I take you way past the 33rd degree... To the beginning and the end... 360.
I an explosion in the left hemisphere of your cranium as I drops verbal uranium and enriched lyrical plutonium... Thermonuclear as I blows you into new millineums.
Child of Imhotep and mans original origins... A blue black version of the blood that travels under my pseudo black skin... It diluted with the brutality of the caucasion who removed the original African.
Every time I look in your eyes I see the story clear... The end result of psychological systematically induced fear... The whisper of the jinn in my brothers and sisters ear...
Making the truth hard to hear.
You wearing the mark of the beast on your breast, your ass and your feet as I The Honest Truth spit a beatbox beat designed to move the streets.
Free the slave and make we complete.
Baby you are the key that wakes me from a triple stage darkness induced sleep... The fleeting hooves of frightened sheep as the wolf fat prepares to eat.
I flow what I see in the depths of your optics... The Muslim, Oriental, Jewish, Christian and Coptic...
Baby you make me drop it.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(TRIPLE EYE SEE)
THE BEATDOWN FOR THE BREAKDOWN...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTVSdstDIL4&feature=youtube_gdata_player

We who exist metaphysical see...
We see that we have existed across these spans called lives that mere men be.
We who saw the beginnings as man and woman newly formed walked across Pangea.
We borne on the strands of helix trees that bore fruit and ultimately seed.
We who know that the dirt, the sky and the universe are one.
That the worm and the lion are our kin.
That we in our roots carry the potential to communicate telepathically.
That the majority exist as slaves to mundane aspirations.
Religion the finger held as blade to a neck.
We who look to the stars and know that they and we are one.
That the pineal is the only way to see... Third eye television precision displayed on an hd screen.
That the art of our physicality is the key... We the physician... The witchdoctor... The potentiality...
We among the cattle walking as the free.
They imprisoned by the illuminati who struggle to prove their innocence while killing indiscriminately in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Tallahassee.
We who exist metaphysical see these things.
We act upon them fluidly

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE LONELY KINGS LAMENT)
THE MUSIC AS A KING REMINISCES...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZHr3F4y-W0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Should I tell you how I would treat thee?
Would you overstand and walk with me or would you let all this go to waste?
I would never call you bitch or who're cause I know that the world has done that enough... Torn you down.
Stood on your spirit.
I see the sassy as you being free, the fire that burns in we.
I see your skin as the utopia spoken of in hushed tones as we pray on bended knees... We promised to be together across eons and in these eventualities.
Would you feel the king in me and stroke my mane as it hangs from my chin?
I of silky flowers and milk chocolate as Jimi's Electric Ladyland plays on mp3...
Would you be my voodoo child and my moon rising my tides?
Could you withstand my depths?
Feel my crushing forces and make them exert less pressure as they beat at my psyche?
I will stand by you till the day I lie cold in a grave in a cemetery and after that my love for you will flow across skins as the breeze.
I knowing these things will be sweet if only I could have you to hold, to hold me.
I would treat thee accordingly as these days fade into the annals of time and our beating hearts linked bear witness.
I will treat thee as Isis, Makeda and Nefertiti.
My queen, my empress, my all.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

TAKE IT OFF... TAKE IT OFF

(TAKE IT OFF... TAKE IT OFF)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... YOU NEEDS TO LISTEN.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzkuEKeeDGg&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Strip for me...
Be my nasty little freak.
No one else is going to see as you show me your secrets... Your secret places.
Make my beast growl in my chest and cause him to stretch the skin of my thick veiny dick.
Make him want to stop your tease but be too transfixed to move.
His savage ravage showing in his lidded eyes...
He sniffing the air as you bend and your pussy drops to hang between your thighs... Beneath your spread ass cheeks.
He inhaling sharply as you crawl towards him on your knees.
Touch him and lay back and throw your legs to the sky as your clit makes an appearance... He wanting to suck it.
So badly.
Show him your stretch marks for he can read their patterns.
Trace your story.
See the origins of your freak...
Make the beast want to beat deep as you scratch him... Bite him.
He pulling at your hair and the top of your head... Dropping dick in.
The beast released in all his fuckery... Spanking that clit till it drips tears on his length.
Till he roaring sprays cum into that pussy and across your belly.
Cum on.
Strip for me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

(SAVAGE RELEASE OF THE SEXUAL BEAST)

(SAVAGE RELEASE OF THE SEXUAL BEAST)
THE SOUND AS THE BEAST BEATS...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgAPJVodr0U&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Let me fill you up... Cum into your empty places and overflow them with my essence.
Me touching your silky skin, playing in your wetness, lost in the all of you.
Sliding in and out.
Pulling you back and forth.
You riding my solid pole.
It stretching you as I lost in the view am sprinkled in the dew of your pinkened fruit encased in your blackened skin.
You laid back and spread, clit standing proud.
You digging fingernails into my skin.
Savage marks of rapture stinging on my sweaty skin as I thick lay in it deep.
Push it all the way to the back as I suck your tongue and you lick my face... I suck at your nipples and bite a little.
I want to hear your high notes.
I will provide the lows... The beat, beat, beat as you pulsate on my rock hard.
Use it to scratch your itch... Throwing it back as I thump, thump, thump against the confines of your walls.
I cum into you thick and creamy, draining into your cracks and crevices.
Filling you up and dribbling out wet and sticky as I the beast and you the damsel lie complete.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(FALLEN SOLDIERS LAMENT)
THE SOUND FOR THE POUND...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywtJXf7hwqo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

This is for the fallen African soldiers.
Those lost in the savagery of capitalistic struggle since the advent of his-story.
This is for those who hung from trees, were flayed from their skin, were treated as subhuman.
My fathers and grandfathers, my uncles and cousins, my brother's in this life and death situation.
Those who stood on street corners and slung that thang... Opened bottles and poured one for them that's gone, wore colors that represented power on another man's land.
Them who grew up in the distorted projects where every day can be your last, killed by your own kind, killed by a white man representing the blue, black and brown gang.
This is a shot popped into the air, I hope it falls and splits the wig of an oppressor.
Takes him to a certain grave.
Buried under the tan soles of our black feet.
We soldiers in a misguided war where we fight for material when its really all about the spiritual.
Scratching and struggling to own another man's name stitched on jeans and worn on our ass like burnt brands on slaughtered cows.
Still gripped in the insanity of slavery while screaming free.
Another black man has died.
This prayer is for his African soul.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Speechless

(SPEECHLESS) A COLLAB FEATURING VERNAL...
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvTTQzF2N20&feature=youtube_gdata_player

V
Baby you got me speechless when you make love to me
blowing my mind in different places
longing for your touch
make love to me holding me close.

J
Baby you got me speechless as I drink in the juicy of you.
Take a moment to take in your curves.
I speechless as you stand there and I reach out and grab your pussy and you moan.
My dick hanging starts to rise and you take it in your hand.

V
As we change positions how deep u go in me
oooh I love the way you make me moan
louder and louder my heart starts trembling wanting more.
The deeper you go the louder I be.
Got me climbing walls with ecstacy.
Baby don't stop loving, me make  love to me

J
I push you back and spank your pussy as you scream and splatter pussy juice on the bed.
I stand and fall into that pussy hard.
All the way back as you hollar and scratch my back.

V
You got that look in my eye,
You got my mind blown as you kiss my neck, reaching my spot
as you make my body respond, trembling n cumming faster and faster

J
I beat it till the headboard starts to thump the wall.
Thump... Thump.
Thump thump.
My pussy.

V
You make me reach an orgasm.
Please don't stop...
As the hours pass you smacking my ass and the neighbors banging,
harder and harder, we both have an over flow.

J
You so thick as I lay to the side and cross them thighs, all sideways in it.
You screaming.
"Gotdamn Daddy... Get this pussy daddy!
Oh fuck... Ohhhh fuckkkk!
A squirming, squirting fucking juicy... Whew!

V
An over flow of your love.
Loving and fucking you harder as we finally reach our final nuts.
Bust one r two
Don't stop baby until you cum n me.

J
And the neighbors knocks become a part of the synchopation of your nuts and eventually mine.
Baby...
You got me speechless.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND VERNAL

Thursday, February 13, 2014

(PUNANI SILVERBACK KISSING LOTUS GENTLY)


(PUNANI SILVERBACK KISSING LOTUS GENTLY)
THE POUND... BEAST BRANG BASS...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LddqzHFDR_w&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Let me kiss you clitorially...
Let me place my fingertips on your slickened lips...
Let me suck at your hardened nipples...
I opening you up and dwelling in your lubrication, playing within your walls... Tittilating your torgid clit.
You so wet and tasting of the sea...
Arching your back and thrusting your punani onto my thrusting tongue.
I want to kiss you till you screaming cum.
Let it dribble through my silver and black.
Mark of the silverback.
A moment as I stand tall, pound my chest and roar.
Sniff at your pussy, flip it round and beat it from the back while squeezing nipples and biting gently... Pulling your hair and swinging deeply.
Give that pussy to me! And I catch myself...
I don't think you are ready for that.
The extreme pressuring drop of me as I recede into the land of punani beast ravage pretty, where you belong to me.
I never letting go of you naked on my lap.
You pushed back and spread as I touch the back wall and make you hollar...
"Beat this pussy daddy!
You gone make meeeee..."
I spanking those ass cheeks as the cum leaves my balls, travels through my gut and leaves my heart skeeting, skeeting, skeeting... onto your jutting clit.
I in you released...
Completely.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

SEEDED

(SEEDED)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZNp6kHM0gs&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I see us together... Two peas in a proverbial pod.
We set free to propagate this literal earth.
I feel the need to dig my hypothetical roots into the well of your creation and drink deep.
Grow in the richness of your soil and bask in the nature of your caring... I will protect you as I cast my shade and give life a chance to rest.
I will hold you down in times of storm... We locked biophysically intimately.
I could not exist if nor for you... You if not for me.
The fat calf on his knees under fluttering leaves.
The eagle on thermals overhead circling and aware.
The fish in the threatened seas where man spreads the disease petroleum and chemical...
Whispering waves talking of sweeter times.
The acorn and the bulb.
The waking seed bursting from its skin.
We Africans...
We earthlings...
We.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

(FYAH FLAME SCRIBBLER)

(FYAH FLAME SCRIBBLER)
THE MUSIC FA THIS ONE... PYRE FYAH
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qtQHcD7mTE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

And in his aura he carries the judgment and the wrath...
The fire burning in his soul like white hot flames blinding as they reach skyward and cast embers into the branches of the sleeping trees.
His purpose to drop these words that have carved canyons into his tormented psyche.
That are written on the flip side of his skin.
His graffiti hieroglyphically scribbled cybernetically, he having gone futuristically.
He born of the last days of segregation and slavery... He the living epitome of an alternate view of intergration... The lie of the Amerikkkan dream.
He the reality of being born of the outcasts... Those who will never be free if they continue the selling out of their history, buying into the insanity.
His first breath black, his last will be the same as he continues to live molecular in the wind the rain and his seed.
His kind never dying as long as there is need, as long as prisons grow full and more are built... Brick and concrete walls designed to hold crushed and altered souls...
Make men into animals.
His flames hot burn tricknowledge to cinders as from the ashes new thought patterns rise... His words overstood grow green grass and trees... Villages and utopian cities built of wood, of steel.
Children playing in the sunshine of a once dream having become reality.
So sad that this utopia will only come after this current system is a sad distant memory in the future where there has been a great war in mans history.
It talked of as the future human wonders at modern man's stupidity.
They talking of the fire the flame and the nature of the beast.
How the beauty was missed as nature forgotten was destroyed by corporate greed and capitalistic regimes... By the lie democracy as the truth socialism became the enemy.
A child dying as a doctor drove by in a Mercedes... A preacher in an Escalate... A politician, a limousine.
His aura fire as the trumpet sounds the alarm...
His aura.... the judgement... the wrath.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

(6 MONTHS AND GUSHY)
THE MUSIC...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPAKtQxr_AM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

You so ripe in your gushy, all full of milk.
Delicious.
You taste like the creation when this planet, this galaxy, this universe were born bursting with teeming life.
You make me see this world and that one, the alpha and omega and the seraphim...
I and you existing outside of time... Of space.
The primordial swim and the walk ashore.
So ripe that I grow intoxicated and my head spins.
You catch me between your thighs and I sigh... Push and slide into your wetness.
Your juice of life that I tasted but scant moments before as you arched your back and I traced your stretch marks.
Lapping like a lion at the watering hole.
Ticking like butterfly at your erect clit.
Rising in orgasm and collapsing in release.
Covered in your gushy.
My ambrosia
The elixir of a warriors life.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, February 10, 2014

(NAKED LIES AND THE NAKED TRUTH)

(NAKED LIES AND THE NAKED TRUTH)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS DROP...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ag-EDmlGRM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Are we really grown here in these modern times?
We who have used the word love for so long and in so many languages... Many lost to that place where dead languages go... The alphabetic heaven where poem, prose and letters home speak of loving her... Loving him in reverent tones.
We modern in Babylon find ourselves still locked in a battle against our nature.
We finding images of love and lust abnormal when it is who we are.
Love and lust entwined so deep that to have one without the other is lunacy.
We formed of love and sweaty lust.
We bursting forth from the womb nude...
Suckling at the naked breast of life.
Still ashamed of our nudity...
Our form molded in a chamber of Allah where he probably chuckled at the irony of love and lust...
We placed unclothed in a garden of plenty and given great keys...
We wanting more as love and lust led man to sin.
She all he could see... They cemented.
Together they have become we and we still have no overstanding of love and lust...
Why we could be free if we embraced the art of God.
We carbon and water and built of the particles of a long lost star, a fraction of a second is our existence as defined by omnipotence, by omnipresent and billions of years.
We grown peruse not these things as we see only what we are trained to see.
We fail to see the beauty.
That has become our reality.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SEED FALLING TO BARREN GROUND)

(SEED FALLING TO BARREN GROUND)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...

The old man with lofty crown still stands...
He having seen so much... She having seen so much.
Two natures in repose.
King as he illuminated in sunlight impregnates... Queen as she bears the flower... The seed... The fruit.
Roots digging into sand and fertile soil... Holding on.
Wearing an Afro in summer... Becoming branches in winter, a stark reminder of what has been... What might be.
Sap flowing and giving life as they drink elemental and breathe necessity...
They symbolically representing universality and the driving need to rip forth from solid rock... The cracks in the concrete... The need to be...
They gnarled and notty as they reach for the sky.
They the trees overstanding we.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Saturday, February 8, 2014

(MY... WHAT BIG BROWN EYES)

(MY... WHAT BIG BROWN EYES) I WONDER IF SHE EVEN REMEMBERS???
THE MUSIC... I WOULD ADVISE YOU TOO LISTEN...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVEXPVjbavw&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Her eyes it seemed bore into my soul.
No matter how many times I saw them it was the first time.
She like them seemed to ooze brown, sweetest cocoa ground into the finest chocolate.
Turns out I was whipped.
Not by pussy I must say... Nay, it was by her mind, so intricately designed if I a dislocated African may rhyme.
Kicked back and reclined.
She was to me like fine bourbon... Hot as I swallowed... Warming my insides... Radiating out.
I drunk on her falling contented off to sleep.
Waking up starving for another glimpse into those big brown orbs
She so intellectual that it shook the walls of my makings, on a cellular level.
The nucleonics of my D.N.A.
I wanting to melt down as sweat across her brown.
Trailing down her breasts, running in rivets to her stomach and thighs... Her wet having become mine.
I having never been there was lost... Swept away by the sensation.
She should have been mine or I hers.
My heart bled chocolate soul into the crevices of my chest cavity as the bullet of her leaving ripped through my skin.
Tumbled through my body and exited my head.
I falling in slow motion while looking into her big brown beautiful eyes.
Mesmerized.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Friday, February 7, 2014

LOVE LIVES

(LOVE LIVES) A ONE WORD TOPIC SUBMITTED BY ADRIENN BENEWAY
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLs3sivEcLY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Did you know that love has life...
That it can be a friend or an enemy...
Did you know love can kill mentally and physically...
That it has the ability to laugh.
Love can sing, a song so sweet that the leaves of trees seem to sway in its breeze.
They suspended in a lovers eyes on a day in winter devoid of their color.
They blooming on a spring day vibrant and green.
Love can revive... Lift the dead right out of a soul.
Make it alive and free.
Did you know these things?
That love can make a grown man cry tears from red eyes...
He wondering why love had to be so mean.
He remembering when love made him smile.
When she was the apple of his eyes.
Where she was once juicy and sweet she has become bitter.
Love can sour.
Drown some in sorrow and take others to fluffy clouds.
Love lives in books and on computer screens.
On walls and carved into trees.
Did you know that love never having died has life?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SEXTRAVAGANZA)
MUSIC PLEASE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idmE96EWKHo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

He opened his eyes and she lie sleeping next to him.
He was confounded yet he did not look away.
Enthralled was he.
He dared not wake this exquisite creature.
She looking like frail for to he...
Yet there was strength in her form.
She stirred and turned and he saw her nipples.
Her belly button... The v between her thighs.
She opened her eyes and looked into his and so many words were spoken, even though none were.
She stood and stretched and he saw her sex.
Pouty and full.
He stood and his manhood Hung strong and thick but he made no move towards her.
He savoring every fraction of this reverberating second.
She bit her lip and he cocked his head to the side his manhood starting to rise
Her eyes stretched in wonder.
They stayed like that... Looking at each other until the pounding blood sounded like rolling thunder in their ears.
He needing her.
She needing he as they fell to the floor and he drove into she, she rode him back, she on her knees as he stroked her inner sides.
Sweat mingled with wet and juicy.
The two became one then two and sometimes it felt like three ... He calling her name so loud that the windows seemed to rattle.
She purring and clawing his ass, his back.
Finally, he exploding as she begs him to fill her up, it running down her ass cheeks.
He falls beside her and looks into her eyes.
No words are needed.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SON REFLECTING IN THE SUNSHINE)

(SON REFLECTING IN THE SUNSHINE)
THE MUSIC...

You thought you could silence I n I.
Think again.
Did the sun not rise the morning from the depths of a black sky?
Does it now shine from a fluffy cloud filled sky, they hanging against a blue scene.
Do I not see it?
Can't silence I n I.
As long a shred of injustice exists against my people there will be others like I.
Eye see... We see.
You thought exile could break we.Silence our screams.
Nelson in a prison cell... Martin Lee Anderson in a boot camp. Malcolm made into a violent man when he was peace.
As long as a breath is pulled into my lungs and becomes oxygenated blood beating through my notty black heart I will be a thorn in the side of the establishment cause the establishment don't represent me or the children of chattel slavery.
Children of Israel lingering in Babylon where the sun shines on stolen ground... Dust of a great civilization rising under shuffling feet.
Nahhh... Silence ain't for me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SAVAGE CONUNDRUM)
THE MUSIC... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmjG7lOsY8g&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I mean what would I be without you?
You ripped from an ancient mans rib on a starlit night.
Fashioned from the same framework as he but oh so different.
Lions and hyenas in the back ground as you black and beautiful emerged formed of carbon and water.
Soft as wet...
What would I be if you had not borne Moses, Shaka, and Hannibal?
If you had not let me take your hand and shown you the celestial heavens spinning in slow motion above our nappy heads.
If you had not been in the hold of those slaveships.
We born of Kemit, Kush, and Sheba now known as Ethiopia.
Where would I be if you had given up in segregation.
Dogs barking while white police bashed black skulls and crosses burnt on southern lawns.
Our childs body swinging in the flickering light and hanging lifeless from our favorite pecan tree.
Where would i?
No what would I?
No… Could I be?
Thats why I will never forsake the words spoken to an ancient man by seraphim.
She is bequeathed unto thee...
She your other half.
Two parts of a whole.
I open my eyes and I see...
Thee... the black woman as queen supreme.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Jerald Murphy is a writer, chef, philosopher who was born in Moultrie Ga, in his grandparents home in the turbulent sixties.
He is the father of 9 children one of whom passed in 2003 and has 11 grandchildren.
To say that he is a product of his environment is an understatement.
He is the result of his environment having grown up in between the black side of Moultrie and the projects of Tallahassee.
Jerald started to read at the early age of three and it is that reading along with the influences of various Muslims, Rasta's and "militants" that shaped and molded him Into the writer he is today.
His greatest influences were his Father, Willie Lawrence Murphy and his Mother, Mildred Jolly Murphy Williams.
In the eighties he was a medics in the army and after his tour of duty he returned to Tallahassee where he was asked to be a community columnist for the local newspaper.
He also pursued his love of cooking which he turned into a carrer.
Eventually becoming a chef he was the head sous chef for the Mill Bakery Brewery and Eatery for the 96 Olympic games in Atlanta Ga.
He returned to Tallahassee and was the co-host as well as commentator for the popular radio show "Sunday flava with Robert Blake on 90.5, Florida A&M's radio station.
He has hosted numerous poetry shows and has been involved in some community activism as well.
In 2005 he joined MySpace where after two years he became a prominent figure in the writing community and for two years straight he had two of the top 10 blog's on MySpace out of over two million blog's.
Today Jerald can be found antagonizing readers on Facebook or his children and grandchildren at home.
Jerald's greatest ambition is to be published.

AS HONEY

(AS HONEY) DEDICATED TO LAVETTA OCCULAR WHOM I MET IN A LIBRARY IN SPRING...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLs3sivEcLY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I met her in a house of books... Knowledge all around...
I a traveler on the road of overstanding.
She introduced herself and I saw her deeply.
The makings of a queen unbound and unrestrained.
She walked in front of me and blew my mind, body and soul.
She so fine that I sucked in my breath.
Coughed as the smoke hit my lungs and clouded my mind.
Burning embers and lidded eyes.
As she spoke I found myself riding her smooth tones.
Grooving to her funky beat, it flowing and sweet.
Her eyes the conductor.
They brown, now hazel, now honey.
She such an empress complete.
Her thoughts became all I could see as flowers blooming elicited their fragrance.
The birds backup singers as the sounds of the day passed us by.
She eventually said she had to leave, as I stood and we rentered the house of scrolls where our beginnings and doings are found.
Bound and categorized.
She empress ripped from a man's story came to life in the spring.
Vibrantly complete.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IRON LION ZION TRAIN IN BABYLON

(IRON LION ZION TRAIN IN BABYLON)
THE SOUND REINFORCES HOW I FEEL RIGHT BOUT NOW...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBnR28_uSHI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.
Not just black and white but spiritually.
I seeing differently.
A lion thrown in among the sheep.
What many saw as hoes I saw as queens...Their beauty devine they having weathered many tragedies watched their sons murdered and their daughters raped and forced to bear half breeds.
Fractions of blood density...
Mulattos, octoroons and squadrons.
On my side of the tracks nigger life is cheap... Sensationalized on the evening news and in rap videos where the nigger flaunts his ignorant.
I having become adept became a master at crossing the tracks and making contact with the right as preached on Sunday in black pulpits...
White Jesus bearing witness.
Skinny and pale.
Bleeding trickery on the deceived.
The train promised but never arriving as whole congregations pray for Zion... Eyes and minds closed.
Masons, Shriners and Eastern Stars in their midst.
Wolves among the flock.
They the illuminati holding knowledge hostage on bended knees with a sword at his neck.
"Get back... Get back or I slit his throat! Slit your throat!"
Eye see the insanity of conformity.
As I the train traverse the tracks.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Saturday, February 1, 2014

(UPON YOUR NUDITY

(UPON YOUR NUDITY)
THE MUSIC...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btEoW6hFSu4&feature=youtube_gdata_player

The day that I stop praising the African queen vangloriously will be the day I cease to be.
The day that other men write of me.
Tell lies of me.
From my inception I have upheld you as queen.
The other half of me.
When they talked of you in his-story I picked you out, dusted you off and put you on the shelf of nobility.
When they paraded pale skinny imitations of you across the movie screen and in the pages of magazine's I unswayed saw beauty in your curves.
In the bump of your thump.
They who say that you uncovered are something to be ashamed of.
They led blindly by the wolf.
He who enslaved us so that he could have you as he pleased.
Rape and half white babies.
Pure trickery and blasphemous fuckery perpetuated upon we.
The children of the sun which caressed our skin as we born of earth arose and walked pon two feet.
Built civilization on virgin ground.
You swaying and grating, poised in graceful repose...
I resting on your softness... Suckling at your breast.
They would quiet me if I were not boom sound speaking upon you... The thunder... The lightning.
I bring you shining forth from the darkness of my subconscious... 3d.
I have loved you... I will love you... I shall love you.
Till the day I lie cold...
Till the day I die.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY