{THE WHOLE TOTALITY OF WE AS WE FLOATING MERGE}

{THE WHOLE TOTALITY OF WE AS WE FLOATING MERGE}
THE SOUND... PURE FYAH... THIS SONG IS INTEGRAL TO THE WORDS...
http://youtu.be/XDZ31YQvxWY

These nights liquid they got me suspended fluidly.
I rejuvenated in the drops as they become the basis of existence.
As they become us splattered on each others skin.
Soaking in and we merge as one.
Becoming the stream, river and eventually ocean.
As we stretch so far that we touch the sky.
Shimmering on each others surfaces.
We lying naked and spent...
Talking of calming things as you and I... We become we.
I rolling you over and taking you as you, you take me deeper.
All the way back there where your flower produces the eggs that receive my seed.
I squirting and spasming as you contract and cause my hard to go soft.
I falling out of you while still so connected to you.
You laying in my arms as I look into your eyes and glimpse your inner being.
The one that you dare not let anyone see.
The heart and soul of your freaky.
I dripping leaky as I place the head of my dick on the head of your clit.
As I pick it up and slap it down.
As the shattered liquidity soaks we in fluidity.
I diving back into the place where amniotic were we formed.
So warm and inviting.
You got me floating spread out where we found each other.
Out here in all this dark and wet.
I feel you so.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{I FEELING HER SO, MY SOUL, MY SOUL IT SHATTERS TRANSLUCENTLY}

{I FEELING HER SO, MY SOUL, MY SOUL IT SHATTERS TRANSLUCENTLY}
THE SOUND OF WHERE SHE TOOK ME...
http://youtu.be/fSVeEBY7bHM

I heard her voice and it woke the ancestors souls that dwell in my psyche...
She such a part of the whole of us.
She seeing as I see...
The whole of our reality... Interdimensionally.
I feeling her so deep that the trenches of my deepest seas now glow luminescent.
A star in my cosmos now glows brighter and stimulates new birth,
Washes its segment of the galaxy in the brightest light.
Her the flashes of premonition that erupt from my ultra pineal.
Glimpses into a future past.
My ship the words that I whisper in her ear.
She telling me of her vision and my mind the screen projects her movie moving in 4d...
The Book of Our Souls.
It rushing by the windows as I seeking the chambers of Allah travel these black asphalt covered roads.
Dug from the wilderness by black hands holding pickaxes and shovels.
Blisters and worn out backs.
Sitting on a porch in Georgia rocking as the days fly by unimpeded.
For as surely as day comes night shall follow after.
If I can't have her one way I'm gonna make another for she plays misty in my soul.
Pungent marijuana in my lungs.
Smoke in the air.
She is my belief in the one God Allah and the promises made to the prophet Isa as he walked away from the cross.
Deep deep where the truth of we can't be disputed.
Where we are connected on a higher and lower level than mere human comprehension.
I sitting here melting as the heat of her touches the ice that is my heart.
Formed of the coldness of this consequentiality.
I felling her so.

Isa: Jesus

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BRAINGASM)

(BRAINGASM)
THE SOUND OF A MINDFUCK...
http://youtu.be/waU75jdUnYw

My goal is to make your mind cum...
Not with digits for that mine empress would be too easy.
I want to fuck your psyche...
Stimulate your synapses and vibrate your nuerons.
To delve into the all of you and kiss your pussy from the inside.
Let you feel me as I surge up through your breasts and suck them from within your chest.
Make you rub your thighs together as I warm and hard linger in your belly.
Fill your womb.
I the hard of your engorged clit.
Let me hold the hemispheres of your grey matter and stimulate the sexual of your center withmy tongue.
The soft rumble of my voice the vibrator humming as I cause you to ooze your juice.
To lay back and sigh as I orgasmic overtake you and make you moan and sigh.
Cause you to beg me to stop speaking these words that torment you so.
Visions and premonitions falling down on your mountains and flooding your valleys as the petals grow so delicate to the touch.
They manipulated and tender as I speak to them in your panties.
My voice the breeze blowing soft across their surface.
I traveling as the warm blood stimulating and sweet.
My goal to make you stickly sweet and receptively complete.
My goal to lay your mind butt naked and exposed to the biorhythm as I...
As I make scintillating love to the whole of you.
I a tingle in your interior as I make love to you.
As I fuck you mentally.
I stimulating the receptors of your sex starved brain.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE AWFUL REALITY OF BEING BORN)
THE PRESSURE AS IT IS DROPPED SYCHRONIZED AND SYNCHOPATED...
http://youtu.be/2tCZQsZS_kM

Pon I birth the world tilted a bit in I direction.
My weight immeasurable.
I born without fear and set down pon the red clay of Georgia.
Heart of blackness in a whitewashed society.
A black speck on the horizon.
I the darkness that elicits the brightest light.
The storm of smoke and fire at the limits of sight where the earth dropping 360 spins in the darkness of I space.
Lit by a billion suns.
I standing at the interdimensional door where I and I...
I and I reach in and bring sight back to the whitewashed masses as they...
They cringe from the blazing truth it burning their very soul...
I the bass shake their very cores and rattle their very nerves.
The end result of devastatingly glaring insight.
A mirror reflecting the once of who they were...
The now of who they have become.
Former slaves with no true identity as they, they live in the throes of denial... The dungeons of dispair.
They the low on the ladder society as they trying to assimilate are consumed by materialism.
Gotta have these.
I and I see and I and I speak.
A lion roaring against the horrendous din of a billion t.v's and Cumulus radio.
The commercialism and the allmighty want.
Pon I death the world shall tilt a little bit as my corporeal body is lowered.
My weight...
My weight.
It is preponderous.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ASHES RISING FROM DUST AND BECOMING CIVILIZATIONS)
THE SOUND OF RECONSTRUCTION...

Man looking down into the pit of souls as the inconsequential scurry about.
Lost in a maze of lies and to insecure to figure it out.
Man hollering and it echoing off into the distance and ricochetes away.
Fading... Fading as it recedes into non-existence.
The hard drop... The shattering whisper and man born of concrete and asphalt begins to rip at his skin and build 360.
Steel structure rising from the feelings of heartache... His dispair.
Skeletons gaining sinew as he constructs.
Burying whole systems of mass control.
He God.
God he.
Tapping at the mantle of heaven.
And he... Man he mathematic solves equations that have eluded the greatest minds.
Pyramids and monoliths...
Scrolls written by spiritual men in mystic times where knowledge emerged from the primordial mists.
Menelik, Khadir and Imhotep.
The book, The Injeel and the holy Quran.
Man ascending the ladder looks down.
He holds the light...
He holds the light.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE LYRICAL KUNG FU MASTER AND HIS MUSE)
THE SOUND AS HE IN DOJO CREATES FORM.. THAT DEEPEST...
http://youtu.be/c2sDwgPlHUE

And she bid that I write of her and I a lonesome man reached into my inkwell and withdrew my pen.
In the formless from where these characters are born I saw her form and began to bob and weave across the page.
Her big brown eyes shining translucently.
I spellbound by their luminescent glow.
Falling, falling into the essential of she.
The spirals of her hair the star speckled skyscape.
I shooting star falling onto her scalp.
Making skinfall on the dark tip of her nipple and sinking in.
Becoming a part of her mass, her essence.
And I the artist/writer/lover feel her so.
A quaking in my phallic roots.
In the seed bearing pods which elicit ejaculate.
Covering and filling her crevasses with seed.
Rivulets running in the channels and forming puddles.
I lost in the jungle where I bend and drink.
Her water soft and sweet.
Her meat so pink and tasty.
Such pretty petals pon thine flowers.
I blow on them and she shudders a most lovely portrait painted black and brown tones.
A mad lyrical kung fu artist lost in the practise.
Calligraphy and hieroglyphics...
Graffitti spray painted on a ghetto wall.
Sandblasted away and drawn again.
You cannot erase we.
And I called upon to capture her for eternity sit back and contemplate.
We complete.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(GALACTICAL)
HOW IT SOUNDS IN MY DEEP SPACE...
http://youtu.be/1_eExOJjtuw

Man born of the fire of the cosmos...
Carbon and water.
Man born on the third rock orbiting a yellow sun.
Man born black in a white reality where so many forget that once we all were black.
Born of the blackness of an unformed space.
Born of the blackness of Allah.
For if we who were born of blackness exist.
We were created in his image.
The blackness of his being.
The dark and the light.
Man born now wanders dazed and confused for not embracing truth.
Perpetuating lies to hold the masses at bay.
To keep them from toppling the walls of his castle.
It protected by the dragon blaspheme.
It passed on in speeches and sermons.
The masses enraptured by the fire and brimstone eloquently presented as salvation.
Crackers and wine...
Cannabalistic ritualism...
Bathed in the blood of the victim supposedly killed by the system.
It now proclaiming in God we trust as it ignores the hungry and poor.
Commits mass genocide.
Spits on their graves.
Man born of the cosmos pauses and reflects.
Light erupting from his soul.
Man awake and alert.
Dropping pure fire.
Dawn breaking pon the land.
Man born of a silent explosion thermonuclear in nature.
Who can contain his power?
Who can dispute his truth.
His voice vibrating pineal and stimulating hemispheres.
Resonating vibrantly as the scared cringe in obvious confusion.
Taught lies and to trained to escape them.
Chains pon dem souls.
Man standing at the gates pauses.
He remininces these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(MAGUEDA AND THE POET MUSED) HIGHLY EROTIC... DEDICATED TO MAGUEDA JACKSON...
THE SOUND... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN... THIS SONG IS FOR YOU MAGUEDA...
http://youtu.be/y12PlyjCXGA

She my island queen makes me wanna turn her around, bend her over and plant my tree in her bushy.
I want to make her sing...
Reggae tones as I strive to take her higher.
To go deeper than any man before.
Fibbrilate her heart and awaken her soul.
She my fertile island in the middle of salty seas.
I drinking of the fresh water flowing from her springs.
Finding comfort in her cave.
So dark so warm and I stroke slow and long.
I seeking to plant my seed in her soil and watch the forest grow.
Small trees that drop seed and become more.
Her hair the crown as I play with it, pull it and scratch the ground, her scalp.
She my muse and I high on her inspiration plunder the booty of her treasure room.
Lay in the canopied bed of her bedouir and sink into her folds.
So soft and thick.
Bathed in moon shine.
I drunk on her melanin content.
A black and grey bearded pirate who sails cosmic seas where suns and planets are the ports of my destination.
I ponder the wonder of this African island queen.
Her ability to rip this scroll from my souls hold.
The power of her muse.
I sip of my coffee and she swirls black and strong.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(MOUNT LOVE)
THE SOUND...

If love is a mountain I am the mangled mass lying at its base...
Not suicide for that would go against who I am.
I was pushed by a cruel wind that filled my clothes, lifted me and sent me falling.
It was not the fall that killed me either.
The fall while hard was rather a pleasant ride.
I not knowing what was happening thought it was just a part of the trip.
SPLAT!
I hit the ground godawful hard.
The pain... oh the paiinnnn.
I lying shattered on the ground with rocks pressing into my skin.
My mind unable to function because of the paiiinnn.
My brain... my aching brain.
I slipping into the embrace of darkness where in my cave of solitude I try to reconstruct my pieces.
To set the broken bones and stitch the torn skin of mine emotions.
They lie.
They minimize the hurt of this...
I on bended knee.
My mind, my mind.
Gots ta get it right.
I must be strong for the mountain love looms in my sight.
In the morning I'm gonna climb it again.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE ROMPASTOMPA , A BEAST AND A BLACK MAN) PURE PRIMAL LUST

(THE ROMPASTOMPA , A BEAST AND A BLACK MAN) PURE PRIMAL LUST
THE SOUND OF THE ROMPASTOMPA'S SAVAGE LUST... SO MUCH PRESSURE...
http://youtu.be/NiMGOUP5Zrc
I could see it in her eyes...
She wanted the Rompastompa and I hesitantly released him from his cage.
He pushed me to the side and I could feel his raw sexuality as he took over.
My eyes his and his eyes mine.
His lust so strong that shevupon seeing it gasped.
The Rompastompa heard her intake of air and reached out his hand... My hand?
He touched her soft flesh.
He placed his hand on her breast, on her chest and we felt her quickly beating heart.
Saw the way she bit her lip and that set the Rompastompa off.
He took her nipple into his mouth... My mouth?
He sucked it till it grew hard while he played with the other one.
Took his other hand... My other hand?
Trust it between her legs and rubbed our fingers through her pubic hair and it found her slit.
So warm... So wet.
She moaned and the Rompastompa placed his hand behind her head and she took his hardened phallus into her mouth and the Rompastompa sighed... I sighed?
Damn it felt so good but the Rompastompa being well versed in the art of cunninligilus stopped her before it went to far and pushed her back.
Kissed her inner thighs and licked his way to her pink pretty and explored it with his tongue.
He able to see with its tip.
Oh how she squirmed and I felt the primal need of the Rompastompa as he turned her around and drove our manhood in.
Scratched the skin of her buttocks...
Pulled her hair...
I the Rompastompa and the Rompastompa me as her flesh quaked and shook.
As she screaming release begged him to give her more.
The Rompastompa glad to oblige flipped her over and spread her wide.
Played with her and spanked itvwith the drooling head of his prodigious appendage.
Pushed it in... Ground it in and pumped blood into it.
Made it pulse in her womb.
She wet on his... My belly?
She dripping fluid that left splatters as he beat down.
The Rompastompa... The beast and she screamed multiple in her orgasms.
The little death overtaking her and he resuscitating her.
She now belonging to he if only for a short time.
The Rompastompa a realist making me realize these things...
She screaming loyalty...
That her pussy was his... Was mine.
I felt the Rompastompa's orgasm as it built and grew.
Surging through my belly and my thighs.
So strong that our eyes, they fluttered.
It cumming in spasms and the Rompastompa relieved returned to his cell as I weak fell from her body and listened as she shuddering still lay on her side gave a contented sigh and fell asleep.
The Rompastompa and I lost in the beauty of raw aftersex smiled and closed our eyes.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I BEARING WITNESS TESTIFY)
THE POUNDING SOUND...
http://youtu.be/SnrXYH4XOxM

And unto we power was bestowed...
We made whole.
Our spirit was the sun and in its light we grew strong.
We having such power at times did not recognize it.
It having always been there.
We who were born from the earth and the water.
We assumed that all was fine and that all those born of us were like us
Then came the cannons and the crosses...
Then came white Jesus and Manifest destiny.
Whole nations were wiped out and the knowledge of we was stolen and adapted to make us believe that we the prototypical were meant to be slaves.
Black preachers were taught to make sure to mention the curse of Ham.
To talk of a white heaven where finally under the white god we would finally be free.
Come my children... Gather round.
The day starting with darkness... The night and the cosmos as well and man ignores the obvious signs and cornerstones.
The clarity as the trumpet blasts and the seals open... The beast revealed as he ignores the blood he stands in.
Calls himself a hero as he lines up victims in his sights.
Picks his teeth to get rid of the flesh he eats.
His whore standing in a harbor... She spoken of in revelations and prophesies revealed are ignored.
Plagues and pestilence.
Man and man... Woman and woman and the earth moans in pain.
She bearing witness to the rape and genocide of minds, bodies and souls.
The horror... The horror.
Such potential and it flaunted as rap and religious ideal rips we apart.
Two schools given over to the white side as opposed to the dark from which our mold was ripped.
Analogies and figurative forms of speech falling parable.
Once power was bestowed to we.
Find the key...
Find the key.
We
Need
To
Find
The
Key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF  BUTTERFLY AND SKIN) HAIKU JITSU SENRY

(ALLUSIONARY)
Flutter butterfly
Your wings delicate and wet.
My manhood erect

(ENVISIONARY)
We become nature
Pounding waves cumming ashore
Sinking into sand

(COMPLETLY)
Pulses beat as one
Moans become song vibrating
The air bears witness

(FREE)
Drops on your skin shine
Liquid releases of we
We become the free

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

They the blind would tear you down...
Crumble the bricks of your house and turn them to particles of sand on a desert floor...
Blowing in a stinging wind.
They mislead would forsake you the mother...
They would violate you my queen...
Lay you out naked and rape your memory again and again until you are left a ravaged mess.
They never having realised the imminent arrival of I and I.
I dancing around the fire, my shadow bouncing off planets in the utter depths of space.
My voice proclaiming your royalty to all who would hear these tomes.
I but a blip in the annals of time.
An unfamous man on a world where my brothers they have forgotten...
They suffering short term memory loss and the horrifying legacy of being made into walking shells.
Shadows in a darkened room where the light never penetrates.
They only seeing in black, white and grey as you vibrantly shine thick and chocolate.
As you reflect the deepest black imaginable.
As the red tones in your skin allude to the fact that you have the potential to build...
To destroy.
To rebuild again on the dirt covered remnants of a past civilization that was built on the shifting foundation of miseducation...
An even older civilization.
They having lost the gift sight wander in obvious confusion and the people suffer generationally.
They don't realise that all they and you have to do to Ind happyness is embrace the darkness of your skin and the nappyness of your hair.
The broadness of your nose and the wideness of your hips.
Then and only then will we be able to move forward.
If only they would remove the scales from their eyes and the foolhardyness from their hearts, cast aside the whitewash and embrace the true black.
If only they would see you as I do.

(THE SONG OF JERALD. CHAPTER ONE.)
THE SOUND... YOU NEEDS TO LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/H6Z2L4K1CwU

1.Wouldest thou overstand if I a man promised thee the stars...
I wonder.
2.Wouldest thou be willing to dash the petty words and phrases that thou hast been taught against the concrete walls of the city that hast thou imprisoned.
3.That place where in a dream state thou exist.
4.Looking for a prince amongst men who have no idea what true love entails.
5.True Kings fight for their nation, not against it.
6.True Kings dont cower behind thug ambitions and false bravado.
7.True Kings do not fear retribution for speaking truth.
8.They lay their lives on the line for freedom.
For justice.
9.True kings stand staunch behind their queens
10.Perhaps thou would recognize a true king even if he did not bear the petty gifts colored the blood red of so many of our ancestors.
11.Wouldest thou be willing to hold a mans hand as he confronted the many demons that plague us.
12.Our firstborn lying prone in the streets felled by the system that our people have come to embrace.
13.False freedom of speech and all that nonsence about jurisprudence.
14.A savior that told you to obey your masters and leaders that tell you to be patient and then you die.
15.Your children doomed to follow folly as displayed in a shoe store window...
In a magazine.
16.Wouldest thou overstand the tears that fall from a mans optics and stain the shirt he wears...
Victim of being misunderstood and villanized...
17.His crime...
Love for truth and right.
He looking for light.
18.He finding that the darkness grows stronger with each passing day as the flames are extinguished...
19.The small trees are felled and made into furniture that adorn the palaces of the rich and famous.
20.Metaphores and flights of whimsy that flutter through his mind like a trillion bees...
21.Honey and manna the food that feeds him in the desert of unknowing where knowledge buried beneath the sands of time wait to be unearthed.
Put on display and exibited to the masses.
22.Wouldest thou be willing to leave the trappings of Babylon if I a man could promise you a life of love where you natural is my hearts desire.
No contacts, false hair or pretenses.
23.I a man ponder these things...
Alone and oh so sad.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{OF BIRTH}

{OF BIRTH}
And lo the lotus
It blooming and blossoming
Such splendor revealed

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[WATERS EDGE}
She the art lotus
Ripples pon warriors still pond
Peace is finally found

JERALD MURPHY

{THE FIRST PHASE} PART ONE

{THE FIRST PHASE} PART ONE
THE SOUNDTRACK AS THIS SAGA BEGINS...
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL24cV6IIynrY4Wt8GZJQQrXK8jhXFXXkK


The people sitting around the fire listen to his story as he talks of mighty things.
He having arrived just that day.
His name, it is legendary and he walks his walk alone.
The things that he has seen.
As he speaks the words that he tells become images and the women and children gasp as he speaks of mighty warriors and of fair women such as them.
He speaks of the one god who's skin is so black that in some lands where the people are coal black and the lions striped they paint him blue.
He speaks of the exiles with eyes of blue and skin of white... the ones cast out.
He tells them that these are their children... Born of their ancestors seed.
He talks of distant lands across the great water where the jungles are covered in fog and mist.
Where the crocodiles have rounded snouts and the people are black with red tones.
The man while speaking seems to penetrate the soul of every person listening and they are built up in his power... He in theirs.
He talks of the stars and of how they the people have relatives on distant worlds.
He tells them that each star is a sun and that other worlds revolve in their gravitational fields.
The man pauses in his speaking and looks around.
He notices a young man sitting in the front and looks at the Elder who nods at him.
The man motions the young man over and sits him next to him.
He does not look directly at the young man but he speaks to him.
He asks the young man "Who are you?"
The young man answers "I am the son of the one God. There is no other besides him... He is lord of the worlds."
The man asks "Do you know what that means?"
The young man hesitates but a second as if evaluating the question but the man senses that the young man is really evaluating him.
"Most people they think in time as they see it, there is more to time as related to God, as related to man. In the before time when man and woman walked with Allah there was no age... There were no limits. Man spoke with the animals and the animals conferred with him.
Man saw the stars not from this world but from worlds that traveled the great beyond."
The young man stops talking and the man ask's him "Who told you these things."
The young man answer's, "They have been here since my birth. They were revealed as I lived."
The man looks at the young man and asks him "Are you ready?"
The young man answers "I was born ready."
The people around the fire stand and walk by the young man, as each one passes they say their name.
His father and mother are the last to walk by and they pause.
His father hands him the necklace that he wears around his neck.
It contains the ashes of his ancestors.
He looks him in the eyes and the emotions that pass between father and son are felt by everyone there.
His pride is immeasurable.
His mother is a figure in grace and pride and she stands him up holding his hands.
They do not embrace for that is not the way of the young man.
There are tears in her eyes and she tells him that she knew this time would come, had known since his birth.
She hands him a package and helps him to strap it to his back.
She turns and leaves... she does not want to see him go.
The young man in his wisdom overstands.
Emotions are a powerful thing.
The drummers begin to play a beat that the young man has never heard before but he feels it in his soul.
The warriors begin to dance and they look as if they are about to take flight.
They and the women chant and it is as if the night wraps around them... the universe, the all.
The elder and the man take the young man into the main tent and talk to him, as they talk they pour drops of oil on him and pass the ceremonial pipe.
At first it makes the young man cough.
As the elder and the man talk the young man begins to feel the effects of the pipe and the all comes into the tent. He can feel everything, The dancers and the animals which stand in the distance watching.
When they are finished they bring him from the tent and the young man looks at the sky. He sees the blue black of dawn and all falls silent.
The warriors kneel to pray and the women and children kneel behind them, the young man is brought to the ranks of the men and he makes salat with them.
After salat the warriors gather at the gates of the village and the women and children stand around.
The man of every tribe walks by with the young man behind him.
They do not look back.
The people watch as they fade into the distance.
Future and past.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

{COME UNTO ME}
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/c0ClIeRYkd0

Come let me lick of you... Flick your nipple and cause your stomach to quiver.
Massage your back, cause your muscles to relax.
I sniffing at the base of your neck... The kitchen where your scent strong makes me wanna.
Come let me trace your stretchmarks as they tell me your story and allude to your past.
Let me lick of them and feel thy fuzz.
Let me kiss the trails on your inner thighs... Hum on the rim of your navel.
Lightly touch your protruding clit and spit on it... Suck it hard.
Come let me lay you back and explore thee ass deeply as my tongue can go.
As you ask of me what I am doing to cause these feelings erupting from your pleasure cores.
The hemispheres of thy brain.
Feel you as you try to push me away and I latch on strong... Make you flutter and scream.
I desiring a taste of thine cum... A drink of thine elixer.
It adding to my immortality and building me to my god state.
You who were promised unto me in times ancient where your brown eyes and black skin shined newly...
Where each day was new and in the night we found peace in each others arms.
I found in the depths of you as our bodies covered in sweat became the most beautiful art.
Where our voices bounced off of cave walls and the skin of tents.
Come let me allude to these things as I lap of thy fount...
Come let me lick of you.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

(THE PRICE OF KNOWING)
THE MUSIC...
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL24cV6IIynrYtYlUS4RkYYmlSDjHtNZqX


A mother told a child of Africa where great men had lived... Where great women had bared great children.
The child listened and he heard of Ethiopia and Egypt... Of Cush and Nubia.
The child's grandmother took him to church and played the piano and the boy listened to the words of the preacher... A portrait of a nice white man with a halo round his head... Reaching out.
Thy told him that the man was from the beginning, had lived and been African and the boy questioned that.
The boy began to feel that the words of the preacher while making nice sermons were full of holes and as the elders forced him to his knee to pray the boy began to wonder.
He having never felt the things repeatedly drilled and recited.
Danced in the church aisles.
The boy questioned his father who he had never seen go to church but who was Christian by all standards.
His father told him of Africa... Of slave and sharecropper under the baking Georgia sun... They standing at waters edge catching speckled bass.
The boys father told him that anything that they didn't want him to known was at the library in a book and took him to a great building with many books.
A spiral staircase that led to many more.
Then boy still young started to read and it was as if the veils fell away.
He opened the apocrapha and waited for the scrolls.
He engaged in discussions with supposedly learned leaders and learned of the art tricknowledge which was used to enslave... Of the language legalese born of a lost language.
The swiftness of the eagles flight and the Angel Urial... Of the angel Gabriel and of massive knowledge drops.
The boy in salat learned of peace... In meditation patience for all are not going to see.
Goyim.
The boy continued to walk and became man as time passed by and he watched as the world while changing stayed the same.
The man while blessed with every ability to become rich walked among the masses as just a man.
The man tried to no avail to wake the people from slumber for the Apocalypse spoken of was slavery on a level as yet never beheld, computer chips and facial recognition.
Babies marked and duly processed... New World government's.
These things coming to pass.
The man ranted and wailed of these things that had been prophesied.
He finding no peace sometimes prayed for death... His vision filled with futility.
The sun again rising...
He opens his eyes...
His days filled with light filtered through and revealing.
He walks among man and woman.
They know him but know him not.
He was born, Stranger.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE SHOW, IT MUST GO ON)
THE SOUND...




This place where it all runs together... Where there is no here and now and the past present and future merge.
This time, this space where colors, numbers and science fall into sequence and the notions of men become petty inconsequentialities.
I alone on pineal levels where the light glaring exposes flawed rhetoric and ripple effects.
Waves undulating across the sea of men... The sea of woman...
I abstract shattering explosively as black slashes on a computer, phone and tablet screen.
I born electrical impulse, I born thundering impact that causes the air to shake, weak knees to quake.
For who could stand in I way?
Earned my freedom in the streets of the projects where the government files black men as thugs and bastards...
Disposes of them as such after they are thoroughly whitewashed into becoming what they were meant to be.
Where mamas open their legs to institutionalised deadbeats... Expect more out of them while teaching them nothing.
They chasing green paper in a rigged economy where their dollar is spent before its earned.
They owing their very lives to the system Babylon.
Such a sad slow ballet as the dancers fall as ashes to the floor.
Spinning weightlessly to the foot smoothed boards.
They the entertainment for a captive audience as the song fades into silence...
The curtain falls...
Seamlessly it all fits into place.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

SHAKE SPHERE

{SHAKE SPHERE}
THE SOUND PLAYING IN THE ATMOSPHERE...
http://youtu.be/X8mZge8qfPA

Thou tendeth to causeth the blood in mine loins to boil excitedly...
Such art thou art... such a sweet delicacy.
Thine chocolate wouldest I lap at to sate mine sweet tooth...
Thy juices wouldest I drink of to sate mine thirst.
I in this desert of longing where thou the mirage appear on the horizon.
I having chased thine image across the dunes of mine parched mind.
Upon reaching thee would I pay homage to thine creation...
Hand you a scribe ripped from mine fevered mind... Brought to life by mine hands as I in the cold of night alone cried out thy hypothetical name.
So hard that I had to touch myself...
Wanting it to be thee.
Thee the voice on the other end of a telephone line...
The image on an Oovoo screen.
So long have I lived in the purgatory of longing where thou are the relief...
The warmth in mine cave of solitude where the voices of mine ancestors speaketh of love...
Would that I could know its embrace...
The scent of thine flower... The feel of thine tunnel as it grippeth the tautness of mine skin...
As it makest the fluid of life surge roaring to mine one eye.
As it makest thou scream upon thine fluttering release, warm and sticky as thou squirteth onto the surface of mine skin.
As we merge in a kiss... tongues, legs and arms entwined.
Our breath, our blood slowing down.
I seeking of thee pondereth these things.
Thou the second wonder unspoken of in the annals of man.
The queen...
Thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

( STRAIGHT TO THE POINT )
THE BEAT THAT ACCOMPANIES THIS CONVERSATION...
http://youtu.be/A7gmAhQ46gE

And I a wandering soul would talk to you in these trying times where the world seems to have fallen into the deepest pits of futility.
The #icons glaringly having no value.
Human lives are but #pawns played out in black letters on newsfeeds... So many are blinded, so devoted to worshipping the screens of t.v's and #bullshit cinema.
Praying to white #Jesus for #money and material while the children forget the past... are doomed to repeat it.
360 degrees of seperation as slavery is pimped out #Mercedes and shiny rims.
Revolving on the #dias surrounded by spotlights.
On the #pulpit in colorful #robes.
Twinkles and sparkles as #diamonds are mined by stolen children in #Africa.
Cocoa picked by babies who have never tasted milk chocolate.
#McDonalds working people below the poverty level.
Babylon the beast fed on the blood, sweat and tears of a single mother.
The blood ,sweat and tears of a black man sentenced to #prison for selling weed, selling crack,  selling #molly cause poor people wanna forget.
On bended knees with hands pressed together as #revelations come to pass.
#Fire and #brimstone raining from the #pineal region of one #Georgia born.
The day would dawn on us talking cause my #soul stirred would I pour out to you.
I listening to the words as they emanate and resonate from your diaphram and tittilate the #drums of my ears.
Sonically beating into the depths and crevices of my brain.
A moment of #peace found as I a wandering #soul take you in my arms... We... #naked and #exposed.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ #MURPHY