{THE TREASURE CHEST} INSPIRED BY A PICTURE THAT NATASHA KEY SENT ME

{THE TREASURE CHEST} INSPIRED BY A PICTURE THAT NATASHA KEY SENT ME...
THE PICTURE IS FEATURED AT BLOGSPOT... CLICK THIS LINK TO SEE IT...
http://hamzahfaruq.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-treasure-chest-inspired-by-picture.html
THE MUSIC... YOU BETTA LISTEN
http://youtu.be/k27LiD3YDZ4

I a weary griot find myself resting in the shade of your image, you such an ample example of what we still are at the end of our most arduous journey.
My psyche still grasping at the possibility of relief... The promise of better days to come.
I wondering if your milk will bring me the strength needed to wake my community... To change this reality.
Pondering upon the possibilities.
For so long have you haunted me... Speaking to me of the African that courses through my veins... The originality of who and what we are.
Such a fruitful tree.
Our branches reaching skyward and sprouting new leaves.
I longing to taste of your sap lick my lips in anticipation... Remembering it's sweet taste that I once beheld.
A cool drink in the city Timbuktu... A potent potion in Ethiopia as we came from the mountains an army strong.
Ignored by a league of white nations we took back our lands.
Your lessons having been learned and forgotten time and time again as the rappers rip our society to shreds on the mic.
Parading cross the stage.
A most tragic play coming to an ugly end.
My story told around the fire as horror causes the blood to run chill... Makes men look into the darkness and grab their guns.
So sad that the first ones we would have to kill are our own if we want to truly overcome.
They so resistant to change.
So hot in the sun realization where it seems that I am the only one walking... Talking.
I the griot and you the tale of our redemption as told while sitting 4by the fire.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{P.H.A.T.} PUT HER AT THE TOP

{P.H.A.T.} PUT HER AT THE TOP
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/vbGNTHcH5TI

You would have me forget that you liked her thick when she was your slave... When she nursed your babies.

You would paint her fat and show me skinny images of what she's supposed to be.

Such an awful tragedy.

She thick is queen... The mother of all these beings hue-manity.

In these times sadly she has bought into the insanity.

Blond hair... Blue contacts and Barbie doll ambitions.
She has forgotten me it seems... Says she don't need me.

Contrary to all that has been taught her phat to me is the most beautiful thing...

Her thick lips and wide nose, Her gigantic ass and her belly.

A drink richer than triple roast coffee grown on Mount Kilimanjaro.
She so full of melanin that it keeps me awake like a pure shot of the most potent caffeine.
For her I would go straight beast and commit a tragedy of the most epic proportions.
My love that complete.
Bout time somebody stood for her... Had her back in this cold hard world.
Told her that she is fine, thick, thin, black and brown... In her variations that allude to cream.
I cant forget that she is original queen... The stuff of beautiful dreams... The crease in my seam.
I love her like that... I got to build her up even when out here alone I roam... Need her in my life.
My woman,my empress, my sister, my wife.
So imperative that I tell her that... It's absolutely crucial to our survival.
We born of royalty... We the antithesis... We the solution...
Hope she overstands that I have not forgotten these things.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY