{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN

{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN WHO WAS THE FIRST GIRL I EVER HAD A CRUSH ON IN MY LIFE AND WHO STILL REMAINS A ROCK THAT I LEAN ON.
I HOPE  THAT SHE OVERSTANDS THE PROFOUND IMPACT KNOWING HER HAS HAD IN MY LIFE.
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... PLEASE LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/4wwO1FS8x1Q

My heart in its caverns cries your name and I see you in my dreams as the balance.
I am turmoil as I have sought you across continents, on islands, as I have stared at calm and stormy seas.
Salt water in my dreads and on my bald head.
In the hairs of my wisdom that hang from my chin.
The world so afflicted could use us as the cure.
We the vaccine that inoculates whole generations against the ignorance of societies past.
I in my sleep must have cried your name a hundred thousand times and yet I find myself not remembering it.
Even as a boy when Karen was all I saw.
Such pretty red skin.
I must have called your name, and I strain to remember how your voice sounded so long ago.
That first crush so detrimental to who I am.
The writer, the griot.
The African freedom fighter.
I am disharmony without you and these days seem so hollow.
What am I?
Who am I?
I see the sun setting in the sky, the pink thread and I fight sleep cause it takes me to a place where I must see you time and time again and wake alone.
Face the masses as a lonesome stranger.
I looking for the other half of my soul.
Would that I could hold out my hands and manifest you... Right here, right now.
I looking to my cupped hands pray for you to appear.
Reflecting the light of Allah onto my brownish red skin.
Light reflecting in my hazel brown eyes.
My heart, my heart it cries your name as We become the refrain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/Fi1Ca8bW7Mw
I told her I loved her lips and she smiled.
Such a pretty thing that smile and I reached out and brushed the skin on the back of her hand.
Looked into her eyes.
Tried to get her to feel my need and I watched her chest as her breath calm rose and fell in her breast.
Looking back into her eyes I broadcast my need as she receptive perceived it and let me lead her to the chair where I sat her down and bent to my knees.
Sat back on them and talked to her.
The sundress she wore such a flimsy thing that I could see her naked nipples press against the cloth as they grew erect.
Pressed their image into my optics.
She knowing that I wanted to see parted her thighs and the jutting mound of her mons venerous pressed against the satiny panties that she wore and I reached out and touched her there.
She was already warm and damp and I pulled them to the side.
I told her I loved her lips and I ran my fingers between them as she shuddered and sighed.
I leaning forward kissed them and she moaned.
I sought the button of her clit and rubbed it with my tongue sucked it into my mouth and hummed.
It growing firm and plump reminded me of a morsal of fruit and I sucked the juice that she produced.
It in my mustache... In my beard... In my psyche.
She begged for me to fill the void and I produced my manhood placed it in her hand and told her to put it where she needed it.
She pulled me forward and rubbed it in her slit and the drop of pre-cum on its head became a wet stick string a moment before she arched her back and pulled me in.
My breath caught in my throat released in a rush as I plunged in and pushed all the way to the back.
Pulled all the way out and pushed back in as she squirting came and produced lubrication.
It allowing me to caress her in her very depths.
Her legs pushed back to the bed as she shook her head from side to side and screamed loudly.
Her screams and mine mingling to produce a song of savage sexuality.
Of sweet satisfaction.
I looking at her face bent down and thrust my tongue into her lips.
I penetrating both sets as she became my slave... My mistress... My empress.
I becoming her slave... Her master her king.
The sweat of our exertion bearing testament to that fact.
I slamming into her erupted and fell away as she rubbed my overflow into her skin.
I leaning over kissed her lips.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(PRODIGAL)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/MDXIxl1QRtM

I who was born Guerilla in an urban landscape.
I who was born fighting and scraping cause my skin black did not allow the masses to see my peoples potential.
The full manifest of my solar energy as I flare, sending winds racing cross galaxies encased epidermic.
The cosmos of stars walking around unaware... Dim memories of what they could be... They having become sheep.
I lion lounging on the plain having seen all these things in late night dreams, visions on a subconscious screen where souls scream as they fall into the pit of startling revelation that so many call death.
They wishing they could come back from the flow.
Warn the masses that they have been decieved, that this is not who we are designed to be.
I from the comfort of cover spit these teflon clad rounds into the cowering crowd political.
I walking pump rounds into their inert forms... Wouldn't want them to suffer cause even the Guerilla has compassion.
They departing scream...
Music so sweet to the sufferings ears that they welcome the prodigal son as he walks up scarred and torn.
He reborn The Urban Guerilla.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THERMONUCLEAR DYNAMICS)
THE SOUND OF THIS THINK...
http://youtu.be/jQxnq9640lQ

And this Florida sunshine makes one reflect... On creation, on our formation.
Mine first in a garden called Eden by the beast who came and corrupted our name.
Yet that tale is what we are living now and I... I want to stay in this garden where your skin shines like black gold in my mind.
Where we are lord and queen.
This Florida sunshine I wander was it brighter back then when the air was clearer.
When we the lords came through here and mingled with the natives.
Were the trees greener?
Did the water taste sweeter?
I wonder?
Fountains of youth and all that.
Springs from the well... The earth.
You giving I something to seek.
Even if I never attained it you gave me hope.
Allah is so magnificent for this gift which some have broken down to a four letter word.
The first glimpse of thee must have sent volts of current racing to every nerve ending in the first man's body.
It must have shook the very ground that they two=one formed stood on.
Angels bearing witness to the tremendous pressure.
Man and woman erupting on the scene.
This Florida sunshine got I and I reaching into the Florida air and pulling alphabetics to complete this scroll.
Oh why... Oh why was I born?
Brought to these seven hills?
This city T'allah'assee?
Standing here I look pon your form meditatively.
You so reminiscent of our beginnings in the cradle of life.
I and you born fully mature infants...
I and you ripped from the fire as carbon... Ripped from the dirt as earth.
This Florida sunshine caressing we.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHE LIVES IN MY LAB) DEDICATED TO MY LOVELY MODEL CANDACE LIGER
THE MUSIC...

I mad scientist standing in my laboratory look at the equations scribbled on the blackboard... Click on computer keys and examine thy double helix under the microscope.
I mad scientist stroke my grey and black beard and start the construction of you...
Hmmmm freedom of choice, let me mix some of that in.
Brown skin a must as I continue the build.
My mind contemplating the possibilities threatens to explode the hypothetical you into existence as reality before my hands can build you...
A nipple... The muscles that ripple in your legs... The deep brown pools of your eyes as I mad scientist reflect on the fact that once a scientist greater than I built our ancestors in his laboratory, gave me the means to reconstruct us both if only we were to unlock the key.
It hidden somewhere in our flesh, our blood, our psyche.
I the mad scientist sip my coffee and pull on my blunt.
So much work to do...
So much work to do.
I seeking the key gaze upon thee...
I scratching my bald head and trying to unravel the mystery us
The key...
The key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WATERS EDGE DOJO) SENRYU... DEDICATED TO VERY DEAR FRIEND OF MINE FROM BACK IN THE DAY WHEN I WAS A MEMBER OF THE LYRICAL ASSASSINS, MARSHA NELSON. SHE IS ALSO ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I KNOW.
THE MUSIC... YOU BETTER LISTEN CAUSE IT SETS THE MOOD
http://youtu.be/NCaH-qqTWpk

(THE KOI POND)
She white lotus floats
The pond serene captivating
The bees wings beat

(A SLIGHT DEPARTURE)
Water reflects sun
Breeze in weeping willows leaves
Whispering of life

(AHHHH THE WONDER)
The waters skin swells
A swirl and the koi appears
His colors vibrant

(OF NATURE)
He exudes beauty
The lily and the koi dance
Crickets on fiddle

(COALESCING)
They are harmony
They the melody hum unique
They speak of calm

(INTO NIGHT)
Sun falls from sky slow
Trees the final curtain call
Lotus fades away

(I LOVE YOU SO)
THE SOUND... DON'T MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/y12PlyjCXGA

When my world crumbling trickled through my fingertips and became sand filtering through the waist of the hourglass of time.
When my universe stood still and threatened to leave me suspended, naked and exposed in the vacuum...
Wandering in desolation and dying inside.
I man closed my eyes and caressed your visage with my psyche.
It seeming to be the only thing that could free me from the crushing conspiracy.
Your image became the bricks made of straw and clay that I used to rebuild my house, my city, my world.
Gold glittering mixed in, diamonds reflecting off the moisture of your teardrops...
The pain of us dying, knowing our children left behind would still be slaves.
Their children would serve the same system that had raped you so viciously...
Left me an example cooling on a slab as they cut away at my body.
Distorting evidence to hide the fact that they cursed my superiority.
The fact that though they had tried genocide we still survived... A reminder of their continuing crimes against hue-manity.
A reminder that monsters most often wear homo-sapien skin.
That a smile can also mean evil things.
I knowing these things opened my eyes and sought you out.
Trying to explain as bullets bearing my name fell spent to the ground.
As you wavering in and out of substance remained the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.
I reaching down to gather the grains.
Picking them up and trying to rebuild you in the image of Isis...
The image of Queen Sheba...
The image of Nandi...
Trying to carve you from the crumbling world that I once in Allah's chambers held in my hands.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ACQUIESCE)
THE SOUND AS A MAN DOTH PONTIFICATE...

What doth thou withhold from me? What secrets lie buried in thy darkened skin. Thou hast never ceased to amaze me. Eye the warrior pause to peruse thee flower growing wild in an urban setting. Eye finding thou beauty invigorating and thy scent enticing inhale deeply. Eye admire thy stems that rooted are the stand as thou bursting from bloom spread. Thou threaten to send Eye swooning to the ground. A petal spinning down. Landing softly and with great weight. Thee and Eye art change... Eye in wonder at thine ability to reproduce even in the hardest of times. Thy secrets embedded yet exposed and naked if only one were to look. Stop for the briefest of moments and contemplate... Capitulate to the Noun thee and Eye personified.
These things withheld... So seldom seen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE DANCE OF THE BLACK WARRIOR)
THE SOUND OF THE WARRIORS RETURN...
http://youtu.be/b6cOAdsDx24

In the firelight the warrior transcends as his shadow seems to extend into the darkness at the fringes of the circle where he dances.
The women in this state wail as the drums beat.
As the warriors spirit seems to become the spirit of the tribe.
The taut skin of the drum speaks to the Melanin in the warriors skin and he stomps the rage of his soul into the dirt and the dust rising mingled with the perspiration on his skin.
He lost to the percussion submits to the beat and feels the blood of his father and his fathers father coursing through his veins.
He feels it as it is pumped through the left and right ventricles of his throbbing heart...
The thump thumping bass threatens to tear him apart and he dances to expel this this people freeing earth shattering energy.
The power of ten billion suns and the radiating effect as it takes hue-man form.
He who was thought dead has arisen.
He thousands of years separated from the prototypical who walked in a garden with Allah.
Spoke with him.
Built a fire and danced under an ancient constellation.
His shadow falling away into the darkness speaking of origin as the women wail and the drumbeats...
They telling the tale of we.
They speaking the tale of he.
The message careening pineal it pounding to be beheld.
It begging to be heard above the cacophony of ignorance as it blasts modern... Electronically.
The warrior evolved now dances pon the screen.
He bathed in the glowing light transcends.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BLUE SKIES, SHE, AND I THE BREEZE) DEDICATED TO MAGUEDA JACKSON.
THE SOUND... DON'T MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/RBtNwdqdEng

She touches me stratospherically, dropping degrees as I become the wind beneath her skirt.
Blowing up and caressing her secret places.
I longing to be in her thoughts as she feels me against her skin.
I the cooling of her burning flames...
Passion the bonfire casting embers into dark skies where I am the layers protecting her from the vacuum of space...
The holder of her imagination...
The light blue me refracted into the sunny day...
A field laid out and spread into infinity.
The limits of vision.
I out here where there are no limits.
She having carried me there on a whim.
An allusion to her ability to be anything she wants to be.
I from my perch precarious singing of she.
Listening for her voice to save me from the brink of nonexistence that looms at the possibility of not knowing her.
I need her touch.
It is my healing.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE SOUL SURVIVOR) DEDICATED TO CHERYL SWEETHONEY WHOM I PERSONALLY FOR THROUGH A BATTLE WITH CANCER AND REMAIN A BRIGHT SPIRIT...THANK YOU FOR THE PHOTO EMPRESS
THE MUSIC... THIS SONG IS DEDICATED TO YOU EMPRESS...
http://youtu.be/rbpvTR-pVCc

I wonder if you know that you to me are the epitome of lioness.
Such a pure survivor art thou.
I having seen you rise, fall and stand yet again.
I having seen you deal with what some would call tragedy.
You made it the smooth path that fell underneath your feet as you continued on your journey.
As you picked up speed spread your wings and sailed into the atmosphere.
You hanging on thermal suspended and resplendent.
Such sweethoney as you coated the receptors of my mind.
Saturated me with your particular flavor.
I shivering at the intensity of you on my palate.
The cool refreshing, invigorating extent of your aura as you came into my perimeter and lay on the blanket spread as banquet.
A picnic on the riverbank of creation where life erupts from the primordial ooze.
Crawls to the sand grows legs and walks away anew.
I looking on in amazement feel your name as it vibrating leaves my lips.
Lioness....
Lioness.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DELIRIOUSLY)
THE SOUND...

Ah to push up on thee and treat thy flower roughly... Gently.
Sweetly manipulating thy stem till you shudder in the breeze.
Ah to throw you down and watch as you panties peak from beneath your sundress.
As your mound calls my name.
"Beast cum hither"
Such a Succulently succinct roar at the base of my brain.
In my pleasure center a dazzling rain.
Your legs pushed back... Dementia...
Where was I ?
Ah yes talking of how I want to pleasure your inner and outer sides.
Suck at your breast and lick the backs of your knees...
Rub the walls of your womb with my swollen head... Ahhhh the remarkablity... Language in the heat of passion unbound.
Throw you on your knees and mount you so forcefully that you are driven trembling to the floor...
A little hump in your back as you push it back.
I driving need fucking you as you driving need fuck me.
If I was polite I would call it making love but politeness escapes me in the mode beast.
I biting, scratching, pulling and pushing.
Holding you tight... Rubbing you lightly.
Surrender thyself to me... Let me take it...
Those pretty flower petals call to me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WE BUILT SYMBIOTIC)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/ShFwo1xpCLA

When I ain't got nothin left to hold on to I pull you from the deepest part of my cosmos.
Wrap my arms round your image and meditate we...
I feel no hate or animosity cause this journey ain't always been pretty.
Not for you and not for I.
You have saved me from utter insanity and time spent prisoner in the belly of the beast.
I carrying you in the teeny tiniest particles of the warrior me.
Ready to go to the river time in your honor standing Shaka at the bow of the psychic ship.
I meeting the angel death would reminise you.
Sit him down and tell him of my love for thee my born queen.
Burn a blunt and talk of the horror of us divided.
The angel death and I as he ushers me to my place flow.
I energy that feeds a future seed.
I having held you will add my memories of you to interdimensions where we were never taken from Africa.
Guns were never invented.
The Europeans are a peaceful people.
Where you bare breasted breathe the morning air knowing that you slept next to a king.
I trying to take the weight of your pain.
So long since I have known your touch.
I standing at the door meditation open it to your divine light flooding the room.
I reach out.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE LONESOME STRANGER REFLECTING) THIS PIECE IS A CONTINUATION OF THE LONESOME STRANGER SAGA
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/lpwA160DCK4

The Lonesome Stranger reflects...
These things he has seen.
The pain, the pain and a tear dots the corner of his eye.
He sitting and reminiscing calls poe his memory and his fathers face appears.
Such a stoic man so full of silent wisdom.
The night outside his window hums with life and he immerse's himself in that.
It becoming a part of the symphony playing in his head.
He plays with the images of the women he has had along his long journey.
To his knowledge he has never treated any one of them wrong, there are some of them who would think different.
Yet he has been lonesome for so long... Such a savage conundrum.
The words of a woman he has known cross his mind.
"How will you ever find a woman like you?
You are truly free."
He winces at the agony.
He who has killed and been damn near killed.
He who has done his time in the belly of the beast.
He who has done so much good and damage all at the same time.
To each thing a there is indeed a moment.
He has no fear, if he were to die tonight, he would welcome it cause it is inevitable.
He overstands that.
He is pulled back in to the here and now as something drops to the floor of the bathroom.
He stands and moves to the door as it opens.
He looks into her eyes as she smiles shyly and knows.
He just knows.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ONE SUNNY SUNDAY IN OLD FLORIDA)
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/r7G-0g3ZHs0

They walk dog and the man with the beard talks to them as dog pokes around in the tall grass.
They 5 are Father, son and grandsons.
Uncle and nephews.
Her coat is golden and though the grass is green the Florida sun has bleached it brown in some places and blond in others.
Dog seems to disappear at times in the grass a second before she shimmer back.
The boys and the old man throw rocks at things beside the railroad tracks as the boys talk about the train and try to guess when it will come.
The old man knows and he tells them it will not come now. The boys ask him how fast it goes and he tells them fast enough.
Dog runs to the edge of the trees that line the side of the dirt road that runs adjacent to the tracks and sees something, her ears perk up and the smallest boy yells at her, tells her not to go into the trees.
She runs up to him and you can tell she weighs more than him, could knock him down.
The boy rubs her and she runs away to explore as the old man talks to them.
The cicadas sing in the trees and the birds chirping seems to blend in with the wholeness of the scene. The cars on the other side of the street sigh, roar, speed past.
They come to a place where there are some old oak trees and a large grassy field and stop.
Dog looks at old man and he says go a second before she melts into the tall grass
The old man looks at his grandsons and his son.
There is much pride in him.
His oldest grandson looks at the oak tree and says. "I can climb that tree."
The old man says "Show me."
The boy tries and is to short to reach the lowest branch and his Uncle who is a teenager walks up and boosts him up and he and his dad stand under the branch as the boy crawls around.
He looks down and realizes how high he is and he looks at them with fright in his eyes.
They do not help him but they talk him down.
He reaches the ground and his granddad rubs his head.
The boy smiles and his little brother wants to try. His grandfather boosts him up and he stands up before realizing how high he is.
He starts to whimper and his granddad and his uncle help him down.
They joke with him and he smiles sheepishly.
His pride has been saved.
The old man elicits a Sharp whistle and dog materializes from the grass.
They walk away talking and throwing rocks.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE MOST NATURAL INSANITY)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/xm6WRi_XQrY

If only you knew how much you natural excites me.
That the soft down on your skin blasts me careening into other realms... I a beast king standing at the precipice of pounding a rhythm against the back wall of your womb.
Ahhhh to see you in your naturality.
That's the shit that takes me away... A fraction of a step away from insanity.
You so real that I grab hold of your vision... So real that I guerilla would tear down trees and beat a bitches ass bout you.
Hmmmm...
I better catch myself before I digress too deeply...
Reveal the true depths of how I visualize thee.
Don't know if you are ready for that revelation...
If you are on that level...
I rubbing the soft fur on your plump punani.
That nice black ass with you on your hands and knees and I be's...
Told you I be's fucked the hell up when you strut yo nature-ality.
I fucking formed of steel like robotic lion.
I as dense as diamond... My nuclear weight immeasurable by human standards.
You got me...
Whew fuckin wee!

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A PAUSE BEFORE PERFECTION)
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/5ZtrIBob2GI

If I were the sculptor and you the clay formed of dirt and water would I hear your voice calling to be form.
Would I listen or go another way.
Running from perfection cause in perfection I the sculptor would be signaling my end.
What more is there.
Would I lovingly caress the clay making it moist and smooth here.
Cutting lines there.
Your eyes and the spirals and naps of your hair.
I working would form your breasts and your buttocks, pressing for a moment and leaving my fingerprint so that future youth would whisper.
"He loved her so, you can see it in her formation."
"He left a fingerprint in her smooth skin."
I the artist living on in her image just as the most ancient art of Kemet speaks of we living as king, queens and seed.
The eyes of Nefertiti.
We the chosen of god you see, in the images as they hearken to our rise and fall.
I sculptor trying to express our complexity.
The depths of my need...
A darkened room where I look at you half formed and I can't sleep... I can't sleep.
The creator me as the clay weeps, as it laughs, as it gives birth to dreams.
I never wanting it to stop pause a moment before completion...
If I give them perfection would it mean my end?
I step back and take a long look as she formed from clay stands magnificently reticent.

(HEAL ME OH MEDICINE WOMAN AS I WARRIOR HEAL THEE)
THIS IS DEDICATED TO JEMELLA BOATWRIGHT WHO IS VERY SPECIAL TO ME
THE MUSIC... DON'T MISS IT

Speak to me oh medicine woman...
Tell me what is required of a warrior seeking thy healing.
A glimpse into your eyes has healed a thousand nicks and scrapes...
Has caused a man's weary blood to flow strong, caressed the fibrous muscles of a troubled heart.
Would it be to much to ask you to give a kiss... Fruit of thine lips as a warrior thirsty closes his eyes to the sweetness of thy taste.
As it saturated his receptors and causes him to sway.
So tremendous the need...
The awesomeness of the want...
A mountain... A river... A valley.
In your skin the pitch blackness of the deepest seas....
The darkness of antimatter in the depths of space as it holds matter in place.
Oh medicine woman wilt thou allow one such as he the chance to ease your pain... He your healing as surely as you are his... Power attracting power and casting it off as spent energy which feeds the nation.
Thy potion the strong tonic drank to instill strength.
Would thou a medicine woman allow a man to bury your demons face first in the dirt and make them the road that leads to a new beginning.
Trust a man with thine most prized possession... It beating in thy chest.
Could thou?
This battle having left him with keloids on his skin and empty spaces in his soul.
He standing and eliciting sighs which echo into the infinitesimal as they die out in the vastness where the possibility love glimmers and twinkles in the distance.
Sometimes real.... Sometimes the illusion caused by fevered dreams of the past.
The warrior raises his head...
He looks into the medicine woman's eyes...
He speaks...

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE FRAGILITY OF RACIALITY) THIS PIECE WAS INSPIRED BY JANICE LANCAZO. LAST NIGHT I ASKED READERS TO SEND ME A PIC OF THEMSELVES AND I WAS SURPRISED TO GET ONE FROM JANICE. SHE IS USUALLY SUCH A QUIET OBSERVER. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO SHOW MY DIVERSITY JANICE.
THE MUSIC... A CLASSIC
http://youtu.be/V-hmypa3wuA

And what of race?
The mentality that some use to uplift, some to degrade.
It such a moot term in the real scheme.
If aliens came suddenly into our atmosphere would they see this thing?
Would Allah?
Seldom on the road life do we meet someone who transcends raciality.
Who just plain sees.
So many of we so lost in being taught to hate at early ages...
Taught that we are better or worse for us being a color see?
It has truly become our mentality.
So many lost in the ignorance of all that.
Some have learned to escape the skin...
They having learned that respect is earned... It beyond skin deep.
Fathoms below all the surface see?
It in a place so dark that many avoid it even when given the light.
Afraid of what they might see in the corners see?
The fragility of race as it yanks slobbering at the end of its thick ass chain rabidly chattering see?
We all came from Africa.
What then of this thing race see?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(MOMENTOUS)
Fingers explore flesh
Folds unfurled reveal secrets
Sap thick sweet and warm

Jerald Murphy

(ROOTICAL)
Tree reaching to sky
Roots entwined sustenance sought
They are the lovers

Jerald Murphy

(AFRICALITY)
Their air is life lived
Their union is love preordained
Sun and earth combined

Jerald Murphy

D
'Hey sweetheart may I have a moment of your time?  There's something I want to share with you that's been heavy on my mind.

J
Yes you may empress I love the way that you form words.
The way your lips move.
I would sit for a thousand and one nights listening to the melodious sound of your voice.

See if you can bring this part just like you are talking to me Dee.
Make it a part of the conversation.
Keep the basic concept though cause I love it...

(Umm the scent of your body oil draws me in to move closer to you. Thoughts of the unspeakable run through my head. DAMN!!  Oh the things I could do to him once he's in my bed.  Oh hell forget the bed...if he lays one finger on me....oh yeah I'm taking him down.  I'm going to make this man wobble wobble for real.  And the neighbors are going to know MY name.  'Baby I've just been thinking so much about you')

The earthling stood and watched as the ships parted the mists.
He was calm for his people had been here since time began.
They were as old as the cow and the sheep.
He stood a striking figure in the sun a it glinted off his skin.
Another figure appeared beside him and yet another and soon there were 5 earthlings standing and watching the vessels arrive.
They hear the sound as the aliens dropped anchor climbed into smaller floating things came ashore and planted their idol in the sand.
Kneeling down they paid a strange obeisance to it.
These strange beings that looked like the exiles talked of in village lore.
Those thrown out because of the curse that they carried.
The lack of Melanin.
One of the aliens tried to communicate but he did not speak hue-man and the earthlings looked at him in wonder as he seemed to bark ay them.
He talking loud and aggressively.
The earthlings saw as he thrust a white hand at them.
They looked at it but did not touch it.
They remembering the curse of the leper did not want to take this disease home.
They saw other boats come ashore and unload strange animals as heavy black things that they set on the dunes and faced to the forest.
It was this moment the youngest one in his old age will remember as the time we should have killed them then.
They earthlings turn and melt into the forest.
Darkness is coming soon.
That night they watch as the aliens worship the strange idol again.
They watching the aliens sleep lite for it has been rumored that those who carry this disease are possessed by the evilest demons.
They will have to be watched...
They have brought death.

(TAKE 3) FEATURING DEE EVANS

(TAKE 3) FEATURING DEE EVANS
THE MUSIC... DO NOT MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/ULj3A6BG5_k


D
Baby... I want to share with you the naked truth about how you make me feel. Please forgive me for the rawness of my sexual responses to your stimulating touches and glances.  Your tenderness and strength equates you to a gentle beast. My gentle beast.  You arouse the feminine WILD in me sending my hormones over the edge so easily without any efforts. Triggering so many sexual impulses all at once. Baby you are mind blowing. Give me your hand please. Do you feel that? Yes baby that's my breast but what else do you feel?  That strong beating heart of mine and heavy breathing is my natural call to you. My yearning for you.  I've hidden my feelings for you for too long. So now baby no more talking. Enter my den and receive the love and comforts of a world that will forever desire ONLY your touch... Unleash my beast.

J
I see your nature as it lies exposed on the jungle floor.
Your voice a low growl, I smell your lust.
Mmm.
Such a delicate scent.
I feel the beast as he rises and I rub your fur.
Stroke your lips.
Both sets.
I know you like it gentle so I try to inhabit your insides, I the beast ride slow.
Look at you beneath me as you talk most dirtily... Beg of me, "Oh beast don't stop.
Your heart and mine in sync as I ride you a little faster.
Bend you over and take it hanging.
You the most pressing thing on my mind.
This need...This need.
I pulling at your beast.
You releasing it as it covers my balls dribbles down my thighs and trickes to the sheets.
I so excited that I start to cum, roar your name.
Damn I'm glad we had this conversation.

By JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND DEE EVANS

(THE SWEETNESS OF KNOWING THE BEAST) XXXRATED

(THE SWEETNESS OF KNOWING THE BEAST)
THE SOUND SO


What would thou have I speak of?
What if I were to speak of the texture of thy nipple... How it grows firm between mine finger tips.
On mine lips.
I describing them find myself digressing into other things.
That particular stance thou hast.
That particular sigh that makes the blood flow strong to mine manhood.
Makes it stand strong as if trying to see into thine insides as thee takes it to the back of thy throat and lets it fall out from between thine full lips.
Spit on it and repeat the exquisite torture.
I standing on mine toes.
Beast captured in thine eyes as thou lookest up at I.
I mean... What if I spoke of the moment when I layest thou back and kiss thine full lips.
Legs pushed back to the bed as thou wiggle, squirm, grab mine head and try to pull me in... Try to push me away.
Thine juice staining the sheets.
The instant when I stand and place the anvil of my hammer against the hold of thine keep and tear down the walls.
Claim the territories as mine that  you spread and wet have bequeathed unto I the beast.
I who came in so savagely, swayed and slayed in the deliciousness of thee.
As I speak.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

( LOVE... AS TOLD BY A SPECK OF DUST)
THE SOUND...

I but a speck without you my hypothetical queen.
An infinitesimal partical floating in a sea of unknowing.
The moon finds me howling my lonesome song.
It rebounding off the craigs and precipices and echoing my tale of want.
Watching the trees mate and make seeds, the birds bear eggs...
Watching summer fade to fall. Dreading the cold days when I alone confront winters winds.
Wanting a queen to hold as frigid air confronts warm breath and becomes steam.
I a drifting and shifting part of the scene as the day carries on.
I ripped back into the here and now where I stand in the sun incandescent absorbing the rays and reflecting them in shades of white, red and yellow.
The explosive potential of an atomic bomb as I in your presence am triggered.
Become the healing of a nation...
The healed soul healing dead mentalities and bruised psyches.
The blast, the heat and the cleansing as our effect radiates across a sea of dry bones.
They standing animated in relief and registering disbelief as I a speck pass by their eyes...
Catch the light and refract.
I searching the cosmos for you.
My hypothetical queen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BOOTY BEAST BREAKDOWN)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/A-ndAI38PEk

And that booty... That booty has me stunned.
I lost in the swaying motion as you walk by, I find myself pondering your creation.
Thanking the strands of your DNA for forming into this array... This most spectacular display.
I find myself wondering what you would look like unclothed.
Dark chocolate, black coffee, pecan tan or strawberry red?
I would have you turn around slowly for me... The better to observe your art.
The map drawn on your stomach... Your fat thick nipples... That most sumptuous ass.
I an artist peruse and try to rip you out of every medium that I have the power to wield.
Charcoal, pencil and clay.
The black and white keys as I frantically scribe the burning image of you onto the screen.
Try to show my emotional state. What your booty does to the wrinkled surface of my booty man brain...
A violent thunderstorm...
The gentle rain...
The lullaby.
I lulled into a hazy daze as all that booty it passes me by.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE ISM AND THE SCHISM)
THE SOUND... FUNKING THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/fQ3wAE73Ha0

Here I come to spit mad ism into this virtual schism where people robbed of their vision run scared of the lyricism.
I standing tall on the seventh hill where the ink spill decides Floridians fate and dreams are killed by pieces of paper called bills.
I a decendant of the Africaninity residing in the city T'allah'assee where the union never reached the confederacy, bout a step from full slavery.
A savage twist and a full metal on metal shriek as I manifest this see?
This deadly samurai soliloquy where these words rip to shreds conspiracy,
Hypothetically, virtually and spiritually.
This ism is the antitypical light shining through an alphabetic prism and falling to the floor as a man screams freedom from these mental prisons where capitalism and socialism done created a distorted realism.
I a man at the epicenter looking into the perimeter and pondering the depths of nuclear winter.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(NIGGAS KILL NIGGAS) A ONE WORD TOPIC SUBMITTED BY MY AKHI MUSTAFA MUHAMMAD.
THE WORD WAS GENOCIDAL.
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/Npl_rVvctSE

The black male having become homicidal spits his rage genocidal... It echoing of the bricks and concrete and hitting a little girl playing on the corner.
Oh how her mother cries as her blood stains the sidewalk where she was standing.
So innocent.
Her daddy locked away in prison holds his head in his hand.
He can do nothing for he is as dead as his child... These bars are his casket.
The system having buried him alive...
A zombie born of the apocalypse.
Almost 500 years of dwelling in white folks heaven and black folks hell.
The black male goes back to the crib and smokes some weed mixed with woo, polishes his gun and his gold.
Wipes his Jordan's off and hates his hair, hates his eye color, hates them bitches and can't stand that hoe.
He steps out of his door and sees his boyz, his crew.
They bent on destruction pump Young Thug, Base God and Boosie as they cruise the avenues.
Pull up to the light.
A car pulls up and the occupants light up the night as body's jump and bullet shells hit the pavement.
The black male he dies saying fuck you to another homicidal youth.
High on the drug genocide.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

LAQUEISHA
Sun sings glories song
It gently caressing brown skin
She is the reason

Jerald Murphy

He wanted it so bad that his seed pressed in its need.
Became the hot splatters that fell on her flower petals as she screamed in release.
As he cried her name and fell sated upon her.

(DRIZZLE) EROTIC

(DRIZZLE) EROTIC
THE SOUND...
Cum my dear, sprinkle pon me.
Dew drops dripping from your flower petals, so sweet pon mans tongue.
Cum my dear as the whipping wind screaming through the layers of mans atmosphere.
His pollen surging in the depths of his loins.
Cum my dear as man finds himself massaging your pistil where thy produceth the basis for life.
A sigh as thy beauty is absorbed and processed.
A shrill intake as the whole of the feeling takes breath away.
It held in lungs.
It forced out by the tremendous pressure.
Cum my empress let man bend you, mold you and contort you into the various shapes that make mens minds wander.
Makes his skin tight and veins rise in his phallic flesh.
He seeking to touch the base of thine heart.
Flutter the basics of thy nature.
Shoot his essence into the cellular structure of thy brain.
Warm liquid tasting of ambrosia.
Warm liquid flowing into the depths of thine womb.
Cum my dear...
Sprinkle pon me.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE NUDE INTERLUDE)
THE SOUND FOR THIS POUND...

There you stand so statusque, filling my view.
My heart pounding pumps blood to my core.
I feel you in my tinest bone...
My very last nerve ending...
My mitichondrial dna.
I a particle of Melanin fracture and divide.
Distribute you through my whole.
My needs and wants so intertwined that they become as the finest of lace.
The sturdiest of rope.
I am delicate... I am strong.
The wind caresses my mane.
I want it so bad that my seed presses in its need.
Becomes the hot splatters that fall on her flower petals as you  screamed in release... Undulate beneath me.
A pause for that thought came from the want of my passion.
The home of my most primal originations.
I in my pineals have seen us ascended beyond these petty existences and naked ambitions.
I and you as beams of light...
As blades of grass...
As splitting atoms being born again and again.
Such lovely imagery as I meditate upon your structure.
Born of African dust.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY