(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