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