{THE DOOR, THE KEY, YOU AND ME}

{THE DOOR, THE KEY, YOU AND ME}
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/MkbdOZHfIbI

In these letters would I break into a million trillion glistening pieces that would caress you as a fine dew...
Fall upon your melanated skin as a fine mist... Cover you in my fog.
Sink into your structure and rearrange you from the inside out as I pour down as black love pon thy Oh my African queen.
Tingle the follicles that produce thine nappy roots... I a traveler would chart thy spirals and lay waste to any that stood in our way.
In these times where men are content that you are held in contempt I alone would face the hate that produced such hate...
Becoming the thump that is the sound of our hearts strong.
The bump that nudges us along.
In these letters would I rain down like napalm and set sticky fire to any that would defile thee.
Your form my catalyst... I born in thine spark.
A lone form dancing in the light of the revelations that thou hast brought forth from my aching...
From the pain of learning that once we knew these things...
You the image sculpted from the clay of a riverbank in Kenya.
Rib of my rib... The cartilage in my backbone.
The surety in my footfalls.
In these letters would I paint thy picture and display it in a museum as the model for all female hue-mans...
Walk children past it and watch their little chests swell with pride as they realize that they have the same brown eyes and the same darkened flesh.
Tell stories of us rising from the depths of mental slavery and materialistic pride...
In these letters would I speak of our connection to the cosmos and the time continuum...
How we finally regained our ability to cross dimensions...
Lost in a moment of love so great that a man gave up heaven for his empress...
They becoming mortal after eons of living eye-ternal
In these letters would I die content upon knowing that thou had read them and overstood how much I loved thee.
A letter...
A paragraph...
A possibility...
The key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{SOMEBODY BETTA GET DAT DAMN FOOL}

{SOMEBODY BETTA GET DAT DAMN FOOL}
THE MUSIC... YOU DONT LISTEN TO THIS AND YOU TOTALLY MISS THE POINT....
http://youtu.be/wRFl7sUXd-4

See all dem fools be playin games...
I ain't got no time for that cause I wanna make you feel me...
I a motherfucking beast in the bed...
What fuckin sheets?
I dropping hard into the interior of your forest... A force to be beheld.
Sometimes pattering and at other times driving as if to flood your core.
Beating at your walls... Stroking and rubbing clit... Lightly biting nipple...
I told you this ain't no game as I make you put an arch in your back and beat it pouting...
A motherfucking beast... Big Daddy!!! Big Daddy you a motherfucking beast fuck this thang!
I lost in the splattering drops that are produced by a true beatdown...
Caint let you go... Caint let you go as I push you to the floor and pin yo legs back...
Stand up in that thang and roar... Pull out slow... Plunge back in...
Yo liquid got me throwed like bout three doubles of Makers Mark bourboun...
An eighth a dat loud and bout three a dem green sweet white owls.
I high off the very thought off you naked and sweaty as I minister to that punani.
Throw off my robe and run down the aisle.
Peel you back and lick at your creamy center...
See dem fools be playin games and shit...
I aint bout dat.

{TSUNAMI} SENRYU

{TSUNAMI} SENRYU

THE SOUND OUTSIDE THE DOJO AS INSIDE THE BATTLE RAGES...

http://youtu.be/2CoHkpCYvOk

{IMMINENT}

Man stands and sees clouds

They pon the horizon dark

Lightning flashes bright

{TURBULENCE}

The air becomes cool

The wind grows, picks up debris

Man is the strong storm

{BECOMING}

Man becometh rain

He the torrential downpour

He reshaping earth

{RECOGNITION}

The bird sings again

A plaintive song sung so nice

Once man overstood

{THEN CALM}

Water calm is life

He in meditation breathes

He rages no more

{ENVISION THIS VISION} A COLLAB FEATURING LACHELLE JOHNSON

{ENVISION THIS VISION} A COLLAB FEATURING LACHELLE JOHNSON
the music...
http://youtu.be/XIl9GaKt7k0
Her in a mirror and I in repose contemplating her form... Her playing in her hair and I lost in flights of fancy... She the fantastic fantasy that I gaze upon. I blessed lie and take her in... Her form so much a part of who she is... I wonder if she knows that at this second all I see is her... T shirt, panties and her personality... I wonder if she sees?

She sees a mere reflection of him,, embraced in the image of his needs, desires fulfilling the thirst water alone could not quench. Intoxicating aura, blissful harmony, She shows him the purest form created, seeing the inner him that lives within her, his gaze pierced the essence sending the waves splashing on the shore making lasting impressions in the sand. She sees him

In my mind she dances and it is so graceful... her lines, and I sigh at the beauty...
So eager am I too have her entice me, to become the antithesis to all that I have seen...
Would she walk beyond I wonder as her pheromones fill the corners of my mind...
She seeming to grow as she in a fraction of overstanding seduces me...
In seeing would she become the scintillating apparition of my most succulent dreams...
The all that I be.

A silhouette captures the fragrance… in a naked trace of his presence secretly indulging. .mesmerized by his orchestration, elevates the chemistry; His methodology is my aphrodisiac explores her agility paralyzing all her senses. Her reality trembles under his voice.

Mmmmm as in response I find myself saturated and full...
She the fulfillment and the release... a most refreshing drink for a most weary traveler...
A bath, the water calm and warm... So invigorating.
In the nappy roots of me she washes away the dirt and grime... The awful tragedy.
Standing before me in t shirt and panties she sees the real me...
I see the real her.
Things just got so deep.

She can only fathom the magnitude of arousal, percussion's beating loudly, intimacy ignites majestic flames unspoken language fills the pinnacle of his existence. curiosity seized the moment, intrinsic persona devours her imaginations. Her t shirt and panties I see him real clearly.

BY JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND LACHELLE JOHNSON

{LOVE STANDING IN THE GUTTER STUNNED AS A BUS SPLASHES IT WITH WATER}

{LOVE STANDING IN THE GUTTER STUNNED AS A BUS SPLASHES IT WITH WATER}
THE SOUND OF GETTING DRENCHED AND DEALING WITH IT...
http://youtu.be/VYZIinJkovE

When will I get my chance to show you what real love is?
So many before me have left you standing at the verge of not believing...
Frattered and tattered, frayed and torn and I find myself trying to restore you.
Trying to paint you back into a vibrant existence.
I having found you in the arms of a barren relationship... She just a placebo.
I having found you with his child... He who could have been king beat down by society...
Scared to be man, as nigga he exists... The gun his power... He having lost his mind.
Firing shots that further decimate our society.
I wanting to touch your skin and sink into your soul.
Wanting to bring you bubbling forth as clear stream of consciousness from the depths of your earth.
You shining in my sun as you babbling stream become flowing river and eventually the oceans and seas from whence we sprang.
Clear water becoming salty like the amniotic fluid that nourishes our future.
It bursting forth screaming as it confronts the light... Absorbing it and growing into the here and now where we are found.
Where it will leave us and pass us on as another generation.
 I standing by the wayside as you stroll me by... A whiff of perfume and a pretty dress.
The click of stilettos and a beautiful behind.
A fleeting bit of divinity and the promise of redemption if only I could show you real love...
All I want is a chance.
Let me love away your pain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

{WHAT SHALL WE BECOME}

{WHAT SHALL WE BECOME}

THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... I LOVE THE WOMAN WHO SINGS THIS SONG SO MUCH...

http://youtu.be/eOiouUYvpjw

Eye born find myself still seeking you as Eye have since before my conception in my mothers womb...

Time such a misunderstood thing as so many seek to stay young, they growing older and no wiser.

Eye standing in the darkened hallway where the door love looms... Light escaping from its frame.

Eye standing on the street corner where a couple passes hand in hand.

A transparent memory with the consistency of fine lace... Fragile yet strong... Full of holes.

Eye long to call your name in the throes of passion... To hold your hand and bring you calm when the world is crumbling down.

Even though Eye have never met you you have made me stronger than you could ever imagine...

Eye seeing fragments of you in your sisters... In my sisters... In my Mother and my children's mothers.

Eye broken down and sad am uplifted by just a promise of you that exists in the deepest recesses of who Eye am.

Eye hearing your voice in Eye subconscious... In Eye pineal.

Blinding clarity that is the universe where Eye from shall return... A part of the flow.

Eye finding myself existing without you as Eye witnessing this beauty want to share it with you....

Eye am not always blue... Eye do not always see red... Eye prismatic standing refracted in the suns rays.

Eye trying not to cry form an image of you and look into your brown eyes... Look upon your curves as you drift away as smoke into the sky.

Back you go to the realm of your ethereal existence... A dream to be chased as these days grow shorter... 

These years they go by faster.

These hairs on my chin grow longer... Grey and black fading to white.

Eye looking for my queen...

She one of the billions of inhabitants of this crusty rock spinning along on a preordained path.

Her Whisper Eye breathe as a wind... Eye exhale as a force to be beheld.

Eye feel her...

Eye feel her mitochondrial as she pervades my every particle.

Eye feel her in my atomic's as Eye in meditation build upon the solidity of her foundation...

Eye and Eye...

Eye and She...

We are...

Ether.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE REAL SHIT}

{THE REAL SHIT}
THE BREAKS...
http://youtu.be/bknxBttOfPU


Cause where I been ain't no love story... No Willie Wonka and the chocolate factory...
Where I been is stranger than any of that fiction that you watch on the telly, commercialized, canned and touted as news.
Where I been 12 year old girls sell they bodies, taught by they mama's how to get that money...
Where I been a 13 year old thug will put a slug in yo head, taught by older thugs how to put in work.
Leave a body cooling on the sidewalk with a hole in the front of it's head, brains hanging out the back.
 A cold statistic told as startling fact by a smug white man on the evening news.
Where I come from the enemy drives a blue and white car and the government is the judge who sentences you for being poor... For being a menace...  For being a deadbeat dad...
Where I been that's a fucking fact and the honest truth...
Where I'm from they done turned the woman against her man... To her he's just a sorry ass nigga... a sperm donor...
Where I'm from he objectifies his woman... To him shes just a bitch... A fine ass motherfucking hoe.
Where I'm from jailhouse stories become legend cause that's all a man has when he's been locked away from society... When he has become beast, institutionalized and stigmatized into thinking that he doesn't stand a chance.
Down here it's all a long way up... Down here its a very short fall... Down here there's no such thing as a level playing field... Fair simply means you didn't get fucked.
Where I'm from the preacher talks of saving the community while taking its money away... Spending it with the white man.
The G, the level and the square.
His children dressing so nice.
He living in a white neighborhood in a white house with a white picket fence... Meanwhile his congregation is living in hell.
The drug dealer is the local hero cause he drives a car like the preacher... Like the white man... He sitting on chrome and shining... 5 baby mamas and one mo on the way.
Slangin dope and dick all over the place.
White mans pawn.
 Little boys wanna be like him and little girls give him blowjobs.
He tricks with little girls mama... She sucking the glass dick.
Yep down here shit is so real that you cant make shit like this up if you tried...
Down here its dat funk.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{YOU THE BEAST AND HUNGER UNCAGED}

{YOU THE BEAST AND HUNGER UNCAGED} 

THE BEAT... I LOVE THIS BEAT...

http://youtu.be/8oveN4tkb3I

There you go again,

all off in the fucking of my mentality...

All the way deep in raw natures keep...

Raw nature no longer sleeps.

Raw nature becomes the beast...

The beast hunger...

Hunger must be fed.

It pacing in anticipation...

You such a succulent treat...

Enticing and sweet.

Hunger licks its lips in remembrance of your juice dribbling down the corner of his mouth...

Chocolate and strawberry...

A sweet piano song...

A shrill cry as you are devoured.

Let loose in your grove he plucks the fruit...

Holds it close...

Peruses thy makings.

He sniffs...

He licks...

He tastes...

He eats.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{ISIS HEALED OSIRIS}

{ISIS HEALED OSIRIS}
THE SOUND OF THE FYAH THAT THE WARRIOR SPOKE...
http://youtu.be/hAAKYpPeyTY


She reconstituted me from the broken parts of I she found lying scattered and torn.
I coalesced a king in her presence...
Manifestly... Seen?
My dry bones gaining sinew as I stood in the valley among the other bones and began to speak.
I told them of her glory and our subsequent fall as those who wanted her beauty invaded our country
introducing disease, pestilence and religion.
She stood covered in our blood and shame as I reached down and touched my brothers bones and they grew a heart, skin, hair.
My tears fell and from them grew strength like green grass.
Fortitude as likened to the mighty Boabab tree.
My words became the fire that forged nerves of steel and sharpened the blades of tongues.
Made them razor sharp in the hands of a mighty army as from the valley floor there went up a great roar.
The earth breathed a sigh.
She having made it through another millennium... Her sons had arisen... The skies opened up and the sun shone on this most glorious day.
A standard fluttering in the breeze as hue-manity stood in rank upon rank... Shoulder to shoulder and rooted in solidarity.
She stood watching as the dust swirled and they departed...
 Rain falling and washing the blood and shame away...
In the face of them regimes would fall and her heritage would be safe...
They would become kings and she...
She was queen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WHERE THE???)
THE MUSIC...
Marz Madness - Shawty A Gem ( Prod. The Ivy Club): http://youtu.be/_Hxm2baJBcM

And I am ripped from the here and now into the what ifs as I smell your scent cybernetic...
What if and shit becomes primal as I visualize you laid out and shining from the soft sheen of sweat that graces your skin.
My meat and yours as I sink in... Brown and black.
Pink petals pulled back.
I taste.
I taste yesterday, tommorrow and a beautiful future.
Hmmmm.
You rip me from the drudgery and the insanity as I intergalactic and interdemensional linger on your physique.
Fuck my way into your nubianity.
Bring blackness boiling forth from your loins.
It translucent shining as it skeets glistening into the air and redistributed as drops splattered as I beat down, bend down and drink.
One minute in 1860 the next 2014, time irrelevant where we be.
Me making you and you making me see... Be 4d.
We ripped from this, shredded and fucking free.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE MEETING)
THE SOUND FOR THIS TALE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uu-ymMmp3U&feature=youtube_gdata_player

He lost walked past her...
She saw him.
There was something about him and she stopped him.
He now found talked to her and the pain fell away.
Her brown eyes the calm trees that swayed in forest breezes.
The world falling into an imitation of ocean waves as they stood on a streetcorner in Babylon.
She saw his past in his eyes wounded warrior he and she sang he a song so sweet that if he had tears left they would have certainly fell from his eyes.
Stained the concrete.
Puffs of wet dust.
The sun traversing the sky found them on a park bench.
At a deli table.
Her Afro like an eclipse in the suddenly dark sky... He lost in her nappy, she in his strength.
He having been in this war so long, fighting an enemy that normal man seemed not to see.
The moon finds them at the same intersection as in the distance an ambulance wails.
They holding hands say no words.
There is no need to.
They are complete.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Your nectar would I cross

(SPACE MIST)
DO NOT SLEEP ON THIS MUSIC...
Hard Emotional Piano Hip Hop Beat - Wonderful Wor…: http://youtu.be/Uui1X4lC-v4

Your nectar would I cross a thousand, thousand galaxies to drink flowing warm from your depths.
Become a hue-man naut suspended in thy an I mation I a grow strong on thy juice.
Becoming fluid, thick and wet.
I in the space between your thighs and pondering which avenue to take, a lick a or a suck.
A long swipe of the tongue all out here in this space.
Fruit so fuckin sweet.
The atoms of all things related to we found in thy chemicality... Thy makeup reflects we.
I tasting all these things as I drink of thy dew.
I landing on your earth and drinking of thine nectar.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(LOVES TRANSCENDENCE) A COLLAB FEATURING SMOKESTACK LIGHTNING
THE MUSIC FOR THIS DANCE...
Rifi-X Prod - Sad Emotional Crying Guitar Rap Bea…: http://youtu.be/ah2laiaIeGM

J
And of what would thy a queen speak to one such as I who fell a star blazing into the atmosphere of man?
One who seeks to know the comfort love firsthand... Such an alien concept.
I who have traveled across galaxies and dimensions to look upon thy fair being... To hear your words fall upon these ears...

S
My noble king,
Whose praises I sing,
I bring
Thee
Thoughts from galaxies
The advanced beings
From outer space
Could never replace
Your wit,
Your charm
You disarm
Your queen with a glance
Thus know our love is fated...not happenstance
No circumstance
Can come between us
You
Tantamount
Above all things
In my life
Is a must...

J
I a traveler have found a home in thy embrace.
Thy words my shelter from the coldness of deepest darkest space.
The utter loneliness of being the outcast.
Such an arduous journey that ends with this fulfillment.
You a beacon shining in the heavens of my psyche... The waters of my making.
I grasping reached out my hand and have caught thy solidity.

S
Your majesty, I take your hand
no entreaties, no demands
I stand
in awe of thee
thy magnificent majesty
there is no other
no greater lover
you shine so bright
your my delight
I adore thee more and more
I contemplate what's in store
for our kingdom
you and your infinite
unparalleled
unequaled
wisdom
music to my ears
your voice is the only sound
i ever want to hear
hold me
my darling king
keep me ever near
my place is here
our hearts
no fear
and when you bring the biggest tears
to my cheeks
when our passions meet
intense heat
rapid, thundrous, zeus' heart beats
all i want is to repeat
each day
with thee
in every way
i stand beside you
here to guide you
and beguile you
charm you
tease you
feed you
please you
love you into an abyss
i insist
the gods are charmed
they can never resist
our glow
we show
our love
from above and beneath

i bequeath
my heart, mind, body and soul
it is me
that thou shalt own
for eternity

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND SMOKESTACK LIGHTNING

{ON MY IMMINENT DEMISE}

{ON MY IMMINENT DEMISE}
THE BEAT OF MY HEART...
http://youtu.be/-bgNKPZj4q8


And if my passing was equated to a thing I wonder what it would be?
Would it be a sigh as a breath is breathed in relief?
Would it be a lonely leaf blowing in a fall breeze.
Spinning on its way to the ground  making way  for winter.
Would I be remembered a soldier or a coward, my scars they do run deep.
Keloid's have callused my heart.
It pounding in pain.
Would I be equated to the sun shining bright in the morning sky as a new day dawns?
Would I be the twilight?
A trip into the unknown?
A descent into the triple stages where monsters and knowledge roam unfettered and free.
Would I be beast ready to render to shreds or hero standing poised at the pinnacle?
Looking off into the distance.
I keep telling them not to cry for my passing is my birth on a higher plane of existence.
This whole sordid affair just a phase on my way to becoming.
A conversation as I am weaved into the flow...
Absorbed into the all of it all.
Would I be remembered as hue-man or just another nigga.
Prophets are born in ghettos... Rag to rags and all that.
Ain't no riches for men who speak truth.
They walk among dead souls that stand upright and wish for better days...
Fall down on their knees look to the sky and pray for them.
They not knowing their true power.
If my passing were equated to a thing I find myself wondering what it would be.
A whisper or a gunclap?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

THE ROARING LION AND THE CORONATION

{THE ROARING LION AND THE CORONATION}
WHAT THE LIONS ROAR TRANSLATED SOUNDS LIKE...
http://youtu.be/mUXpt8OIuuw
And a lion stood from the dust of the land to which he had been transported in the belly of the beast.
The lion was not the original lion but he carried the original lions genes and his instinctual imprints caused him to roar.
It bounced off of black asphalt and was spun into the breeze by black tires and carried to the black neighborhoods where the black man roamed under the blackness of poverty and an unbalanced caste system.
He in his heredity carried the keys given to him at the beginning back when he was an ancestor in Ethiopia, when he was the Egyptian and the Israelite.
Back when a kind of man named Cain came to his city Nod.
When fire and brimstone rained down pon Sodom and Gommorah.
When he was whipped and chained and watched the rape of his Wife, his sister, his daughter.
Lion swinging in a rope from the branch of a pecan tree...
Fruit dangling with fruit.
Such an apt metaphor... seed hanging with seed.
Standing in front of the judge a moment before the cage door slams shut.
And the lion stood from the dust and roared...
He the hunter.
He the hunted.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{OF CLOUD AND STONE}

{OF CLOUD AND STONE}

THE SOUNDTRACK IS ME READING THIS PIECE... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN....
http://youtu.be/i6DcNqjEWDo

And if I could I would reach into the sky and pull down a piece of a cloud...

Soften these harsh realities for you... These hard truths which so many lie upon while trying to find rest.

The pattering rain would be the shower and the driving storm would be the massaging... the wind the water jets.

Trying to meld the ancient and the modern...

Trying to show you that its all the same.

Yesterdays, todays and tomorrows that never seem to come as the world turns.

If I could I would confront governments and secret societies and talk to them of the will of Allah.

I know its been tried but I just gotta... I just gotta.

Tell them to free the masses so that we can travel to distant suns where our relatives await us...

We been down so long... Been gone so long... Been done wrong.

Lies have become the way we live... War and devastation... Pestilence and diseased minds.

No one cries when the baby is born but it ought to be that way... Baby got so much to face.

A participant in the game of life... Pawn, bishop, fallen kings and queens... got to get some a dat back.

If I could I would work in a lab to create an Injection  that would inoculate you against being used and abused.

Introduce it intramuscular into your physiology... Let it make its way to your psychology.

Get you to see that this place you inhabit... These things... They are not reality.

That we are not these savage beings that are the result of religion and caste system...

Of being beaten into an altered state of thinking that its normal to charge for natural things...

That we own the land, the water, the air that we breathe.

They were here before we came and will be here long after we are gone.

Yes... If I could I would reach into the sky and pull down a piece of a cloud but I'm here on earth and all I got is this stone.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE MAN IN THE BOAT) LET ME SEE DAT SPURTONGUE

(THE MAN IN THE BOAT) LET ME SEE DAT SPURTONGUE


Mannnn... I love a big clit.
I love big booty mind you but a big clit drives me fucking wild.
I love it when it peeps out.
When it stands up and I suck it in my mouth... Swirl it around on my tongue.
Drink of its flavor... Its bouquet.
A big clit makes my blood tingle in my veins... Puts goosebumps on my flesh.
I suck in air.
Got to make it cum so that I may savor its flavor.
Fine wine tis it.
I standing and drooping big dick pon it... Spanking it as the droplets splatter my skin.
Damn I love big clit, pulling lips back and sliding thick dick in... Pushing legs back so that it stands.
I want to see that clit as I beat the back of your womb.
Pull out and rub head on it.
Make you cum again and again... Soak the sheets.
Beat it from the back and rub it trembling and quivering.
Pull out and spray your ass... Your pussy... Your clit.
That is the shit that excites my wild.
That juicy clit.
The beast and I turnt straight the fuck up.
Fucking wild.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE POETRY ASSASSIN)
THE SOUND...

He slings lyrical hails of poetic gunfire into the crowd.
Those hit fall to the ground... Slugs lodged in craniums rattle around and confound the unenlightened and confused among the black and brown...
The dark skinned and light skinned descendants of those stolen from the banks of where where this thing humanity began, a lump of clay caressed and formed human.
Brown eyes open as if for the first time suspended on the rhythm rhyme as it dribbles down optimus prime.
Sweet like honey on a queens lips as a poet sips of her succulent ooze that leaves him staggering like some one hundred and fifty proof booze, drunk on her fermentation and numbly intoxicated to the pain, the healing of a nation as she causes vibrations sonic.
The sound of a bullet whining ricochet, fragments spray shrapnel away as the crowd parts in disarray
A poetic warrior spraying lyrics AK on a Monday.
Mossberg with a pistol grip strong as his slugs hit home.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE WARRIORS LONESOME LAMENT)
THE MUSIC... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN...
Love Beat: http://youtu.be/slFxBpLoXBI

He lies back and let's her run through his mind.
She has no form but she is tangible.
A thought in the corner of his mind, in the recesses of his psyche.
A sigh escapes his lips.
Maybe he will go into the flow never meeting her.
Maybe he has met her when he was younger and didn't know how to fully appreciate a queen.
So many thoughts as he alone contemplates her and she grows form.
Born of his grey matter she is the stuff of his most vivid dreams.
He who has everything he could ever want...
Grandchildren, children and knowledge... He has paid a substantial price for it is hard on a warriors family.
The battlefield so lonely.
It being the place of his internment....
He sighs and rubs an old scar, a reminder that pain can be overcome.
He wonders why his heart aches if that is so.
Why his soul is flooded with metaphorical tears.
Why he is so tired.
She grows into a solid and he reaches out...
She disappears...
Such anguish that he finds himself confronting.
He fears.
They say that for everyone there is someone.
She recedes into his mentality.
Even warriors are allowed their  dreams.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

A Poetry Month picture prompt ...

I posted this picture earlier, it is a picture prompt, meaning that it is designed to elicit a response.
I would really like to make this a collaboration with as many writers as possible participating.
I have posted a prompt at the bottom to help you get started.
You can write off of me or you can do your own thing.

We the result of the union of a seed and an egg and the division of cells find ourselves in these modern times.
The world has rotated and revolved around the sun for billions of days to place us here.
Without you I am nothing, without me you are left alone.
Where do we go from here?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(GHETTO SCION) THIS PIECE WAS INSPIRED BY THE PICTURE AND THE MUSIC... IT WAS WRITTEN TO THE MUSIC...
Airlock- On The 2nd Floor: http://youtu.be/DmwpWTNA3fw

These lyrics be funkin in my mind...
And I...
Have to scribe them down...
And they be breaking down walls and shattering glass as their black and white sonics fall onto computer and phone screens...
These lyrics carry imagery and hyperbole, the whine of the bullet and the smoke off a bowl inhaled.
These lyrics just won't let a brother go...
And they.
Feel so familiar and foreign all at the same time as they rip a hole in the deepness of a man's soul.
He bringing them forth to be perused and under stood by the 85 percent.
These lyrics become the roar as the man becomes night, day and the spaces unseen.
Screaming in rage against the machine.
He neither smoke nor fire but something in between as the lyrics burn internal.
Pour from him as lava incinerating all in his path.
Dragon fire spilling from his lungs and vibrating his vocal cords.
These lyrics...
These fuckin lyrics won't let go.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BRIGHTEST LIGHT)
THE MUSIC...
Groundation - Grounding Dub: http://youtu.be/B9s2fq0Ycmg

I who once was a sun in a far distant galaxy and an asteroid smashing into a prehistoric earth...
I who once was particles of carbon and the chemical equation h2o.
Born and dying on the way to becoming who I am now.
I who once built pyramids and roamed in the desert as Israelite.
Fought an angel and dislocated my hip.
Left my wife standing as a pillar of salt... Caved in a giants head with a sling and a stone and saved Egypt and the Hebrew nation from starvation as a famine swept the land.
I who once stood and prophesied to dry bones and made them into a mighty army... Wooed the queen of Sheba and built temples dedicated to the wisdom of god.
Slew ten thousand with the jawbone of an ass and stood as lion in a den of lions...
Walked with angels in a furnace of fire.
I who built an ark and floated on a global sea...
Walked as a prophet, a warrior and a king.
Was robbed of my heritage and treated as a beast... My image stripped of color reflecting stained glass... See?
I who built a country on my shoulders and my back as they raped the bodies of my queens and the brains of my seed.
I who once dangled from the branch of an oak tree like a decoration on the pagan holiday Christmas... Bloodied and beaten like the image on the cross on the pagen holiday Easter.
I am that I am in the knowing of these things.
Son of man, son of god, sun.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I MET JEALOUSY IN THE GHETTO EATING A TOMATO AND LETTUCE SANDWICH)
THE MUSIC...
"'Til Death" Instrumental (Fredo Santana, Lex Lug…: http://youtu.be/xX7fyYID418

Jealousy is a motherfucker with a capital M.
It's queen Envy standing by its side as it whips its fiery steed, standing in a blazing chariot.
It eats the fabric of hearts as it fires consume sanity...
Jealousy has no pity... It's cold fingers touch everyone, young and old.
Jealousy is a bitch and jealousy can be a whore, selling herself to the masses, legs splayed wide.
Take that shit from me.
I knew jealousy one time and jealousy whispered to my psyche... Fuck that shit up cause it ain't yours, what gives him the right?
And I waged jealousies war... Havoc and mayhem ensued as I raging from the ghetto was released.
The mark of the beast.
Fire burning bright releasing embers sparkling into the black of city nights.
Consumed by the insanity of jealousy.
I the sword of his making.
None could stand in my Jealous way.
Many cringed in fear of his wrath as he and I ruled with iron fist.
Jealousy the motherfucker was once my king and I rode in his honor... Flew his flag.
So sad that I and he have become enemies.
Jealousy really had the ability to inspire.
Dirty motherfucker.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A DROP OF SHE) SENYRU... INSPIRED BY DENISE GORE @INSTAGRAM
THE MUSIC...
Free Kendrick Lamar Type Beat - Coma (Prod. by mj…: http://youtu.be/ycLdFZZv08k

(AHHHH)
Her echo is breeze
She sighs in my ears sweetly
My roots grow solid

(SHE)
I hear her roar soft
Permeating to my core
Lost in her motion

(SURPRISED)
A butterfly she
Flitting and flashing beauty
A warrior gasps

(Me)
I and she mirage
We glimmering distantly
Born of sand and sun

(WE)
A drink of water
Nourishing and cool, refreshing
Soul penetrating

(TOUCHING)
She is flower bud
Petals laid open, displayed
I peruse them close

(PINEAL)
In a man's grey matter
She becomes his fantasy
He digresses deep

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I HEARD A NIGGA DIED) A ONE WORD SUBMISSION BY MY BROTHER MARLON WYCHE...
THE MUSIC FOR THIS UN...
Hard TrapBeat Instrumental *Golden* (Prod. By Lim…: http://youtu.be/uuVtaS4KlO4

Man why niggas got to die, born into a hood that don't give a fuck bout em any motherfucking way.
Chew they asses up and spit em out... Fully formed.
Why niggas got to die in fucking courtrooms and on fucking corners .
Shot by the fucking police.
Why the fuck niggas got to die?
And a Mama cries cause her baby is gone.
Victim of this reality where niggers got to die to feed the savage system... The institution prison.
The new fucking plantation.
Niggas got to die in Iraq cause they didn't have the means to go to school...
Niggas die... Niggas die ... Niggas die.
Seems as If even the niggas is chanting fa niggas to be wiped out if you listen to the latest rap song.
Listen to what they say on the fucked up ass rap videos today.
Solange and Jay Z niggas on TMZ...
Rich niggas but niggas they be.
Niggas blood in the dirt on the six o'clock news.
And again they find the stupidest nigga in the world to interview.
I'm telling you...
Niggas got to die...
Niggas got to die...
We got to fucking kill the nigga mentality.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

I am the witchdoctors granddaddy cause one of the children is gone listen to me and spark a revolution

(THE QUEEN GANJAS DEN AND THE KINGS JOURNEY WITHIN) A SENRYU
THE SOUND...
Midnite - Love Song Dub: http://youtu.be/3BvCM_PGhyk

(MARY JANE)
He inhales her deep
She is the mist and the smoke
She is the hard cough

(SIGHT)
Pineal he sees
She in the light, perfection
Eternal vision

(SOUND)
She is the soft roar
Crickets at night symphonic
Birds in the morning

(TASTE)
Juice of berry sweet
Chocolate melting on tongue
The tooth satisfied

(TOUCH)
Trickling through fingers
Solidity as leaned upon
Manifest and strong

(SMELL)
She fragrant and loud
Midgrade she is the scent earth
Her scent on the breeze

(INNERVISION)
He sees himself tree
The grass waving sways gently
She clouds drifts on by

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Freeflow from a mental dojo where fists fly and black eyes.
Where feet kick in chests and force expelled air to be released.
Where the form is so fluid that it becomes salty tears and the ballet of singing whales.
Hard as ice and as transparent as vapors.
Fire burning bright and rays of realization on the other side of meditation.
Reflections in polished steel and dodged bullets as a monk becomes the catalyst and the cause.
The pain and the relief.
Dodge, flutter and shifts of peripheral fields of vision as brains strain to make sense of what is transpiring in the freeflow dojo.

See I am here to tell you something, you can either listen or ignore it.
It don't matter one way or the other to me cause I'm gone say what I got to say anyway.
The things on this page may offend you or hit you where you didn't want to be hit but I refuse to not pass knowledge along.
I want you to truly know who you are.
I do not seek to control anyone or to make money for this knowledge.
If my children have listened they will know what to do.
I did not come on Facebook to kiss ass or play.
I came to get this message out.
If any man tells you that he is the voice of god he lies.
If he tells you he was chosen while wearing

(NICE? I AIN'T GOT TIME FOR THAT)
THE MUSIC...
Pride Instrumental (Hip Hop Beat with Dark Choirs…: http://youtu.be/GJRMvc8i_rk

What did you expect?
Me to be nice?
I ain't nice cause I didn't come from a nice place.
I was born on 5th street right round the corner from Rat Road and down the hill from the bucket of blood.
I was called a little nigger boy before I was 5 by a drunk white man.
Told I couldn't read by my teacher who didn't even want to give me a book.
Her skin black like mine but that didn't matter.
How could I be nice when all the representations of my people showed me in a negative light?
Shadows obscuring my identity.
Raised in the red clay dust that was the streets on the black side of town.
How could I be a smiling happy nigga tap dancing and shit... Singing thugged out lyrics in a rap song when I came from the projects?
When my people were called the problem?
When the solution was to be thrown in jail?
To be miseducated?
How could I be nice when I was told that the truth would see me dead.
I was not to speak of it in public.
Told to be docile or I would be viewed as hostile by people who bashed in heads.
Hated me cause I was the original progeny.
Worked to eradicate that fact.
How could I be nice when they called me a curse?
Said the bible proved that fact.
How could I be nice when they put me on child support and paid me minimum wage?
Locked me up for not making enough money and taught my children to call me a deadbeat?
Taught the queens that unless I was an ass kisser and a sellout I was less than a man.
Stripped and robbed me of my birthright.
Took my gold, took my diamonds, took my land, took my pride.
Made my queen my enemy.
Made my image into a comedy.
Telling me to forget my past while glorifying his.
You be nice and see if you don't keep arriving at the same point.
I left that highway a long time ago.
I follow the straight path that comes with realization...
It ain't nothin nice.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(PROJECT ISIS BUILD)

(PROJECT ISIS BUILD)
THE SOUND...
Beautiful Voice Hip-Hop Rap Beat: http://youtu.be/GWI4bm1KS60

I evolved in your speakerbox.
In the boom, boom, clap, clap of your ass as you walked by.
Magnificently resplendent in your poise.
I dropped Bass, earthshaking and eviceratingly smooth.
You played melody in lullaby's and church choirs, from speakers Bose binaurally pumped into my Melanin.
My soul...
And I reached for my soul drifting on the bars and notes of your song.
Standing at the apex as you octaves above the rest shattered my glass and I became the sharp shards ripping skin and jabbing at the beasts heart.
Shrapnel expelled at accelerated speeds.
Jazzed up...
Chopped and screwed...
Trap music...
You my dear are speakerbox...
Your sound reigns supreme.
I born am still awed as you walk by.
Boom, boom, clap, clap.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

LOVE QUANDARY

(LOVE QUANDARY) A WOUNDED WARRIORS CRY
THE MUSIC AS WE PROCEED...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IodKBCeNig&feature=youtube_gdata_player

What if I had told you how I really felt?
Would it have mattered?
Would I be a different man?
Would I now instead of knowing of love, be in love?
I wonder.
I see you and my heart breaking leaks blood tears down my weathered cheeks.
Stains falling on my white shirt... Spreading.
Back when I was a young man I had such lofty notions of love.
Where love would take me.
I never imagined the depths of loves pain.
The agony of watching as my baby was lowered into a grave... My love for him only grew stronger that day.
Tears raining from the sky as I and the angels cried.
Me walking away from the woman who was still a part of every fiber, of every cell.
If I had told you would I have avoided all this?
The drunk nights and drug addiction mixed with meaningless sex...
The days spent in jail cells.
The knife twisting in my gut.
Love for a warrior seems only to be an illusion, a mirage of water to a thirsty man, he crawling on knees with hand outstretched.
Trying to reach love.
What if I had told you?
Would it have mattered?
I love you...
I always have.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(LION, MAN AND UNIVERSAL TRUTH)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS JOURNEY...
NEW HIPHOP 2013- Lion Instrumental *EXCLUSIVE* ON…: http://youtu.be/8Wnw6kEif0s

Lion and man both born in the chambers of Allah.
On pure metabolic levels the lion and man are one, born of the same particles and thrust into the diaspora.
They and everything existing on the planet ripped from the land and the waters.
Forced to survive by any means necessary... Tooth and nail... Deception and subterfuge.
Waking and sleeping with the knowledge that tomorrow it all starts again.
This vicious cycle.
The lion wakes with the knowledge that he is a bad motherfucker... That his roar makes the crowd move... He is spectacular in his presentation.
The man wakes with the knowledge that he is superior.
That his words are his roar and he can make a whisper have true power as he moves the crowd... His presentation mesmerizes.
That the way of lion and men.
The lion and the man know that they must mate heterosexual to pass the strongest seed... That to succeed sometimes he must submit to his mate.
That this is the way of things, instinctively.
They linked on levels unseen as the lion hunts on an African plain... Civilization masking the hunt for the sleeping man who knows not that he and lion are linked... The metabolic and symbolic levels, squares and degrees.
The totality of 360.
Lion, man and a drop of knowledge in a concrete jungle as the son rises with the wisdom of the Sun...
He no longer just man or lion... He having gone universal.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CHOCOLATE DROP)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
Beautiful Instrumental Piano Music: http://youtu.be/IKbOWplXzIA
You a block of solid chocolate hits the artist synapses with a resounding thunk.
He walking up gazes upon this chunk of divinity and peruses.
Different veiws... Different angles.
He lays his lyrics back, spreads their legs and fucks them savagely looking for fitting descriptions of your form.
He begins to carve and expose you from this matter... This cube of conformity.
Your lips as he licks his finger and shapes them full.
The rise of your breast... Again he licks.
The jut of your buttocks.
A furious flurry of activity as he brings your form forth, breathing sensuality into life.
The curve of your thighs, the rise of your belly.
Artist pulling at the hairs on his chin... Twisting them into dreds.
Artist in repose as he extracts you from his metabolic form... From the grey wrinkles and creases of his brain.
You so full, phat and prototypical, reminiscent of the dawn of time.
The first love.
The artist steps back.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(TRANSPARENTLY)
THE MUSIC IS A DEDICATION...

When I came stolen and bruised across the Atlantic sea... The true dead one where my ancestors bones have become sand that washes up on an Amerikkkan beach.
You were there for me.
Such a tragic time where the dehumanization began.
They seeking to make me weak in your eyes... To take my strength away.
Made me slave, and the very weather cried, for these were tragic times.
We but scribbles on a paper, animal.
You held me in the night.
I so lost in you that even though they continued to kill me in various ways we survived.
Here against a city backdrop you are the vision that makes a man remember these things... He reflective.
The entirety of this thing on his mind.
As he looks in your eyes and upon your form and sighs cause you are all these things to him when he faces the savage nature of this thing.
He trying to figure out how to convert niggas to kings.
Are you still there for me?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(360 DEGREES IN THE SHADE)
THE MUSIC THERMONUCLEAR...
Lex Luger/Kanye west HAM/Call of Duty Zombie Ops …: http://youtu.be/Mgncda4yEPk

I drop...
Hot like a million fuckin ass degrees... Like a lion on an antelopes ass as he flees.
Claws and motherfucking teeth... Sweeping feet...
I arrive with the roar of atomic fusion thermonuclear... A great roar and a motherfucking mushroom cloud.
A result of the red clay of Georgia as my ancestors enslaved baked under the sun... Melanin absorbing into their skin.
I manifest as lyrical Jeet Kun Do, a pure ballet as I do my warrior dance with pen and keyboard in hand... Ripping syntax from the very fabric... Rendering it metaphorically.
Hard to overstand all these degrees as they subsonic boom... As life erupted from the dark... A spark.
Shrapnel cutting into the fragile skin... shredding preconceived notions apart... The Honest Truth always beats a lie down to the ground... Knocks its dick in the dirt.
Live it real and free or thou shalt die tragically incomplete, life eluding thee.
I drop...
360.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(RISE HUE-MAN)
THE SOUND AS HE STANDS...
Very Sad And Deep Rap Beat: http://youtu.be/5aroxIcqdnU

Hue-man stood from the garbage that had been heaped upon him it falling away in all its putridity, he felt the sun upon his form.
He felt its energy as it poured power into his melanated skin.
He flexed and 500 years of being trapped in the darkness fell away.
Hue-man took a step and found that he stood in a clear stream.
The water cool and refreshing, reinvigorating.
Hue-man performed wudu as it had been taught to Jesus and all the prophets before him.
He cleansed looked to the heavens...
They were silent but he knew that the heavens above him were only a part of the whole.
That there were other dimensions.
That he had traveled them before.
That was before he had been stolen.
Hue-man fell prostrate and poured his soul in the flow.
He felt something give.
The air electric gathered in and around him.
The flow listened and surrounded Hue-man and he attained a glow.
He had become the storm.
Flashes that startled the illuminati and the clergy alike.
He felt the flow as knowledge... It giving him strength.
Making him invincible.
Once more Hue-man took a step.
He stood viable on the world scene.
He stood a king.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(FIRST STAGE OF LIFE) WITCHDOCTORS BREW
THE MUSIC PRESCRIBED AND ADMINISTERED...
Warriors Instrumental (w/hook by Nakoa Heavyrunne…: http://youtu.be/9mC7chtyqWo

Water and salt that lubricates a man eyes as he blinks in awe at the utter magnitude...
The improbability of life on such a magnificent scale.
Some of it so specialized that to lose the one thing it eats dooms it to certain death it a victim of evolution as the world changing leaves it behind.
So of it so diverse that it survives by any means necessary even if it means reverting back to primality.
Losing the modern trappings and becoming the beast in the bushes waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting.
Prey on the weak.
Life in all its phases emerging from a primal soup.
The universe billions of years old looks upon its children, man and woman, plant and animal and heaves a massive sigh for they are still in the first stages of what they perceive as time.
These minor things called life that they live trying to get a piece of heaven while living in hell.
Man peeking his head into the air and sniffing in fear of what another man thinks.
Jealousy such a great factor or Jordan's wouldn't grace so many feet.
The baby crawling before he walks away from not knowing these things.
Hair turning grey with the wisdom.
Water and salt.
Dust and clay.
Carbon.
Life.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WAIT... I HEAR DRUMBEATS)
THE MUSIC... IT'S APPROPRIATE...
Trouble Funk - Trouble Funk Express [Re-Upload]: http://youtu.be/IFwiRu_hCU8

The drumbeat started with the beating heart installed in a man in the chambers of Allah...
The drumbeat swept the land when man was placed upon it.
Thumping from a cave and around a fire as the eyes of predators glowed from the reaching darkness.
The beat... The beat went on.
The drum became the dance and the shadows took on lives of their own as the people gyrated to the drums rhythms.
The beat was strong.
It became the sound heard over the plains as whole village's took note.
Translated the bass into language and made preparations.
Lead armies to battle... The drum the rallying cry as nations took stands.
The beat toppling cities and crushing regimes.
The beat... The beat.
Babies are born, grow old and die and still the beat goes on.
One monkey don't stop no show and all that.
All life but one beat on the skin of the proverbial drum, stretched tight and providing percussion.
A fraction of a second as he is spanked on ass cries and his last sigh.
The drums beating at his funeral escorting him into the flow.
He exists no more as flesh and blood but as images and words.
His heart, his drum beats no more except as a metaphor.
Words mixed into the beats, rhythms and melodies as humanity mixes song to the symphony.
The beat... The beat, it does go on.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(NOCTURNAL)

(NOCTURNAL)
SOME A DAT FREAK TILL WE SLEEP MUSIC...
Ja'Quan - Headboard Banging Music Produced By Reg…: http://youtu.be/DR6aOSxlhcc
Yo pussy so good I want to fall asleep in it.
Lick that pussy... Fuck that pussy slow... Beat that pussy till you cry tears that I lick off your face as I dick you down.
Grind deep in dat pussy.
Show you why they call me big daddy as I ride that pussy all over the house, the back yard and in the car.
That's my pussy and I the beast like to make it cum.
Make you flutter like leaves in a breeze... Tremble like earthquake.
Wet and dripping as you lower that pussy on this dick.
Ride it cowboy and flip it reverse.
Hanging off the side of the bed.
Spread cross a picnic table.
All that pussy for me?
Like Jim Kelly.
Lick my lips and rub my chin...
Think bout fucking that pussy and falling off to sleep in it.
My pussy.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SEXY BEAST BEAT)

(SEXY BEAST BEAT) A TOPIC SUBMITTED BY MY HOMEGIRL NELLIE BATTS
THE BEAST BEAT BREAKDOWN... DO NOT MISS THIS...
TWERK QUEEN - BAG HABITS: http://youtu.be/NDox3YiMp_Y
And there you are... Got me all fucked up in my fundamentals as you reveal your levels and layers to me.
Got me wanting to explore every centimeter of you... Fall into the swell of your nipple with my lips, a flick of my tongue and a suck.
It so plump in my mouth.
Rub you in your moist v and breathe heavy in your ear.
Damn you make me harder than trilium... Some sci-fi material cause ain't nothing real can describe how I feel as I kiss you on those other lips.
See yo other tongue get hard.
Juice and pre-cum the lubrication that I rub with my swollen head.
I want to push all the way to the bottom of yo heart. Push the air out yo lungs.
Kiss you deep as I beat.
Sucking... Fucking... Sucking.
And you Skeet as I bend and try to catch the drops.
Ahhhh your rain so warm.
And I stand in it as it patters and spank your pink and pretty...
Whoo weee!
Told you I was a beast as I make you sprinkle and pour and wet the sheets.
Slap cheeks and pull hair.
I want to leave you frazzled.
Laid out and bathed in the glow.
Soft flutters in yo belly...
You rubbing me as I grow soft.
I kissing you facial lips and scratching yo scalp.
Eye the sexual manifest beast see...
Ahhhh there you are.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I PLAYED HER)
THE MUSIC...
Acoustic Guitar RnB Instrumental- Staring At My J…: http://youtu.be/uw8u-kJZijA

I played her like a guitar...
Picked her up and plucked her strings and her notes rang out true and sweet.
I strummed her and she moaned, a sound that rocked me down to my tiniest bones.
Made me place her on my lap and caress the wood of her grain...
So in love with the expression.
The patterns of her formation.
She became my way of easing the pain and celebrating the joy.
Of filling the empty spaces in my life.
Sometimes she was the surface my tears fell upon...
Sometimes she was my way of controlling the anger I felt...
Got to work it out... This song... This song and I pick her up and start to play.
To reach into the nothingness and form a coherent stream of consciousness that makes people wonder at the beauty.
Wonder where it came from.
She my instrument of salvation in a world of ugly... A world of beauty... A world where our music sometimes seems to have soured.
I pick her up.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE PRETTIEST NO PANTIES POEM YOU DONE EVER SEEN)

(THE PRETTIEST NO PANTIES POEM YOU DONE EVER SEEN) NO DEDICATION
THE MUSIC FOR THIS UN... A CERTIFIED WALLBANGA...
Renzaboy - Slow Jam (Instrumental): http://youtu.be/h31z6cg0MQA
Panties in my way and I wanna see... Panties in my way and I wanna play.
I want to see if those lips are as pretty as the ones on your face.
If they are phat and kissable.
I long to see your spurtongue.
Touch mine to it and make you gasp.
A quick draw of air that sounds so sweet to these thirsty ears.
Panties in my way and I can only imagine these things... You wet and juicy.
Panties in my way got me wanting to tear them off like the guerilla I am.
Straight rampage as I perform my delicate ballet.
See me set against the horizon as the sun sets.
The beauty of you pantyless pervades so deep that it stirs me.
Classical music and better days as I look upon you naked and full... The promise of better days found in blissful moments.
Panties in my way blocking my vision...
Panties in my way.
Panties.
In.
My.
Way.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE BOOTY PROPHETS ARRIVAL) INSPIRED BY STACY PIGGEE

(THE BOOTY PROPHETS ARRIVAL) INSPIRED BY STACY PIGGEE
THE SAVAGE BOOTY BEAT DOWN SOUND... YOU BETTA LISTEN, THIS SHIT IS REAL...
ANDREENA MILL ON MY BODY feat PRINCE CHARMIN' WSHH: http://youtu.be/1YutsD4akTE

Your booty beats a savage patter into my scribbled up brain.
Takes me wayyyy out there where there is nothing but ass and opportunity.
Booties ability to take me to the edges of the city of insanity.
Running down the streets grabbing booty and laughing hysterically.
The booty prophet with a staff and a scroll with a picture of booty in his right hand.
The booty bible as dropped by the angel lust in a cave in the dirty south.
Listen well Man, as he recites.
Your booty as defined by the thinking wrinkles in his forehead
The light emanating from his soul illuminating the walls where drawings of booty are drawn.
The beating drums and sweat filled visions of she surrendering that booty.
Dick harder than titanium, reflecting on the walls before doggystyle.
Holding on to dat booty and riding like cowboy.
Yeeeeee Haaaa!!!
Slap it to speed up the ride, rub it to slow it down.
The booty prophet has come to town.
Booty on his mind... Booty on his mind.
Betta lock yo does.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHORT ROUND)
THE BEAT... DON'T SLEEP...
Boom Bye Bye (Hard Instrumental) - Buju Banton - …: http://youtu.be/6v3zXli4xgg

I a presence in the recesses of your psyche... An explosion across your synapses...
A sun dawning in your pineals as I rise brilliantly bright.
Subsonically causing neurons to dance excitedly as my words weave and bob, bob and weave become the dropping beat.
Shaking the earth and startling the cosmos.
One has awakened.
I a poet carved of ghetto concrete and covered in mud and trickery, subjected to straight deciet and downright treachery.
I a poet having fired the gun, I a poet having the gun fired at me have seen these things and continue to...
Be.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I LIKE A WILD RIDE)

(I LIKE A WILD RIDE)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
Jeremih - Fuck You All The Time (Shlohmo Remix): http://youtu.be/5HtqePscAio
I have no desire to break you.
I like a wild ride.
I want you to buck as I put you in the buck.
Throw that punani back at ne.
I want you to roar and howl... Moan and scream as I try to stay mounted... As I try to touch the back of your womb... Tickle the bottoms of your lungs and leave you breathless.
Turn you around and hit it from the back while slapping ass cheeks and pulling your hair.
Holding on as your muscles ripple under your skin.
I like it when you're wild.
I crashing through the underbrush, Dick swinging and thick as a tree.
Swang on me.
Give me that untamed pussy.
We free... We free.
Running wild across the positions... Seeking to bust.
I and you in the raw pleasure of no restrictions.
Legs spread wide open as I fall deep within... All the way to where we began.
Primal passion and blind lust ...
Let me cum as you throw it back...
Pull out and spray you down...
Look at you in your raw as fuck.
Satisfied at the fact that I left you just as I found you.
As wild as can be.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHE OF INCREDIBLE AND INFINITE POWER)
THE MUSIC AS I SPEAK TO HER... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN
Sound Teckz - Black is Beautiful (Sample Beat Al …: http://youtu.be/8WllIbXBP6o

You enter the scene as freedom from the agony of thinking alone.
A brief respite from the pain and drudgery that is trying to awaken suspended sleepers on this spaceship of rock and water... Fire and ice.
We hurtling towards the future... Revolving around the past.
Man not knowing love till he saw your brown irises.
Held your beautiful black skin.
The sun traversing an African sky.
The moon and stars speaking of  our imminent demise if we do not remember who we are at the end of all these years of captivity.
Our children bearing the scars of leather ankle chains designed and marketed as freedom to fly.
You are the healing of a nation if only you would look deeper than these earthly things.
Take a hard look at what we have become.
The futility of trying to be the reflection of something spawned from your own loin.
A sort of Rosemary's baby if I may.
It's time to put the beast away.
You my queen enter from stage left and steal the scene as freedom if only you knew your strength.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY