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Thursday, April 28, 2016

(MASTER BLAST ATION)
THE DROP... THE DROP...
https://youtu.be/PU6SLKCvbzM

Let me see you rub it, head cocked to the side as I look at you coyly.
Touch that thang for me, lay back and expose the layers for me.
You need this just like I do, you deserve to be the object of my adulation.
Let me see what you do to that clit for later I will use that format when I  tongue lash you.
Play with your petals as I rub the tree, its roots.
A breath drawn across my lips, my teeth.
You looking so delectable to me, connoisseur perusing the particular lines... Your pheromonic displacement as it in droplets to small to be seen permeates my psyche.
I who would be Silver back, I who would be Lion, I and I a roar.
Open up and make it wet, so damp and I, I ummmm.
So fucking lost in the physical presence that is you.
Make it cum for you, make it cum for me.
A shudder... A whewww.
Trembles that ripple your flesh, I liking the erotic, sensual feminine beast that I see lying orgasmically enthralled before me release on the brown skin of your belly.
I just wanna see... Let me, just, see.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

(A-MUSE)
THE SOUND OF MAN AMUSED...

I man peeping thine artistry... I man fixated pon thee royalty... I man dwelling in the darkest of thy levels.
You got me feeling some kind of way, jittery and flying free.
Nothing like a black queen, I blessed would kiss you in and on every crease and fold... find me in your stretch marks where I seek knowledge... Roads, rivers trails that lead to thine forest.
I peruse of thee.
If I were sculptor I would render you black and nude in all your regality.
A sight to behold in 4017 as an artist studies the simplistic-complexity that is you.
Your breath captured in stone and breathed across eons as testimony.
Museums featuring you as the prototypical and I the artist as visually blessed beyond belief.
Such a splendid thing our tale... Thousands of years and all I see is the way your melanin caresses mine mentality and inspires my intellect.
I a mad genius scribbling these hieroglyphics on a cybernetic screen.
I take a step back.
I peep the science that is thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(NATTY ROOTS LOVE DIVERSION)


(NATTY ROOTS LOVE DIVERSION)
THE SOUND... Please listen,
https://youtu.be/y12PlyjCXGA

We entangled grew from hard city streets... I would be king and you hypothetical queen as the world gave us its ass to kiss.
You young tight and fine and me sipping pineapple juice and wine.
We natty and so out of place... I felt you then and I feel you now.
Your face in the clouds, Each raindrop carrying your reflection.
My soul, my soul and wrenching roars.
We entangled as the days they fall away, a mark on the calendar, another year gone.
Cold, warm, hot and fall.
We the roots digging deep, we the branches bearing testament, life in our boughs.
We entangled and my love would feed forests, My love would fall from trees to provide food for thought to wandering tribes of our people.
Pollen in the air as I share my love with you... Take it, take it.
A shudder and a sigh.
I wiping mine eye as these linguistics causeth I to weep.
Begging, begging.
Entangle me...
Entangle me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DROP EVERYTHANG)
THE SOUND AS ALL IS LAID DOWN..
https://youtu.be/7yGMQYH39WY

You though you knew me seconds before I shifted and transformed... I son of sun born of the hard project grounds... Prison of the scorned.
You thought you could pass judgement pon I rising from the ashes a dragon... Phoenix standing feminine by my scaly sides.
We scorching the very earth with our very words... Metaphors and adverbs, banging bass beats that bounce, bounce, bounce the masses... Sparking fires that burn into the night as bodies sweaty dance tribalistically... Shadows cast pon the trees.
You thought you could suppress the melanin that contained in skin absorbs cosmic emanations and feeds them to the pineal being he... I and I arise Nazarene... Seen?
Notty heart, notty mind, notty me, I Lion roaring trembles and quaking trees leaves... Nature and I and I onenity as clouds parting shine rays pon my bald head... Wisdom of the ancients and scourge of the illuminati reigning supreme as the days grow stranger and stranger... Fools dying of thirst in a sea of knowledge and refusing to drink... Simplicity as freedom dangles, Shackles and penitentiary chink, chink chinking on concrete and tile, carpeted courtroom floors... Freedom dangling from the judge pon pulpits hand, from preacher pon pulpits hand... One book to swear on, one book to salvation...
You thought you had me figured out till you realised I had figured out the game plan.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

(OH HOW I WISH IT WOULD RAIN)
THE MODE OF TRANSPORT.
PLEASE LISTEN...
https://youtu.be/6BOp6p4fdoE

Raindrops...
That's what comes to mind when I smell your sex.
Ozone in the air as your wetness permeates and saturates the layers of my atmosphere.
I the planet waiting to receive your life giving moisture on the surface of my tongue.
I the tree standing tall in anticipation.
Droplets becoming the torrential downpour.
I in the puddles frolicking and cavorting, I do so love the rain.
Water so cleansing as it washes away the tiredness and the dirt of the day.
Raindrops.
They glistening in the hairs of my beard and shining on my fingertips.
I placing them under my nostrils and taking a whiff.
Mmmmmm.
The smell and it takes me away and I just wanna play.
I just wanna splash and I grow so thick and strong, the roots of me soaking up the nourishment and sending signals to my trunk.
The pollen flowing through my whole being.
The pollen threatening to cover everything.
It wanting to be freed so that it may pollinate the crops of your fields.
So much that it would run as rivers down your thighs.
So long having lain dormant behind the dam, so rhetorical this symphony of letters and syllables.
I needing the rain so.
A dance to bring it pouring from your clouds.
I looking at you and perusing these things.
Raindrops.
Hmmmmm.
Let me smell your sex.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WHOSE PUNANI IS THIS?)


(WHOSE PUNANI IS THIS?)
THE BEAT OF THIS TRUTH...
https://youtu.be/fYxmFNw-fV8

Remember when you said that your punani was mine?
I knew you were lying but at that moment I let you think I believed you.
I wondered if you had told the other men that... The ones who had been there before me.
I wondered if you would tell the ones that that came after me... Literally and figuratively.
I knew the answer already.
I let you think that it mattered.
To some small degree it did cause I wanted to love you.
I wanted to grow old and grey with you but in these modern times it's just to easy to walk away.
Not to say that I can't love cause I do, it's just that I have to protect my heart, my sanity.
Love for me is a conditional thing and if the conditions are not favorable then I build a shelter to protect me from the fallout.
Love is not a diamond ring cause diamonds have caused my people so much pain.
Dry African bones lying scattered in diamond mines.
Love is not any of that bullshit they show on soap operas or in them bullshit ass movies.
White illusions adopted as truth.
I am not a rich man.
Comfort for me is a roof over my head some food in the fridge, looking at you.
Fuck the Jones and what your friends think.
If they were happy they wouldn't have time to be looking at you, giving you bad advice.
If you loved me you wouldn't be worried about what they were saying.
Lateshia and Andreka nem.
If your preacher was happy he wouldn't be worried bout what religion I am.
Sowing discontent in our home.
All I want is to love you but you got to many people whispering in your ears.
It's so sad that you forgot the fact that I was made for you, that you were made for me and that together we become a formidable force that can conquer anything.
That your voice could make me a king or tear me down and make me weak.
Its your choice.
I wish on all the stars and worlds in the cosmos that I could love you.
That I could throw open the gates to my soul, that I could show you what love really means to me but you live on another plane.
I listen to your moans and sighs.
I listen to you tell me your punani is mine.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

(I BORN MUST DIE TO LIVE) I AM NOT A RELIGION, I AM A WAY OF LIFE
THE SOUND AS I TRANSCEND...

I have seen where we go... When we go I mean.
I am not afraid of the all.
I do not fear Allah.
The all.
What frightens me is people who belittle the all.
People who teach watered down versions of what and who we were, what we are and what we could be in order to control other people.
The people who believe that crap.
I am the all, and in leaving this plane I will still be the all.
It's that simple.
I have always existed and will always exist.
An old woman in a dream told me that right after I walked by my son who has become the all by going back to the all.
I think he knew that from his born, it was in his ancient eyes.
A child when he died, a young man who spoke to me on the way to a lesson, standing on the stairs.
I not knowing who he was until I  had passed him by.
To late to turn back and ask him why.
Tears from my soul that stained my shirt.
An angel who spoke to me on my deathbed who said "One more beat, you decide."
Beat... Beat.
Oh angel which do I choose?
The all or the all.
Standing at the threshold the souls welcoming I.
I upon opening my eyes wondering if my choice was right.
The panorama of all life playing on thousands upon thousands of screens.
Red the color of my childhood dreams.
I seeing things so different from my mother, my teachers, my friends.
The things I saying striking fear into their eyes... Causing their foundations to quake.
My dad explaining these things.
A simple man with a calm tortured soul.
I a small child pausing and wondering "Do they see? Do they see?
Life on this level has shown that so many do not, they not feeling the cosmos.
They trying to make God human, trying to place human attributes on a being of pure darkness and light.
Traveling fourth-dimensional beyond mere human understanding.
Under-standing, such an apt description.
Prismatic the beams that radiate to be absorbed in melaninic skin.
Overstanding but a thought away.
I do not fear death.
Death is but another form of life.
I a beam cosmic, seen?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

( OF MAN AND SAVAGE BEAST)
THE SOUND OF SCHIZOPHRENIA...

Let me tell you a secret.
I have a dueling nature... At times I am a man, all nice and sweet.
I will kiss you gently and rub you soft.
Give you bubble baths and towel you dry.
Suck softly on your nipples.
At times I beast.
Beast kick in doe and take pussy... Beast catch you in water and snatch you out wet.
Throw you down and suck nipples hard.
Beast fuck pussy!
Beast spank ass!
Beast call you nasty name and try to make you faint.
Man fucks you slow and sweet... Strokes pussy.
I  listen to your sighs and moans, they falling gently on my cultured ears like classical music... Such soft tones.
You so like a painting rendered fine art.
Just say you love me, Ahhhh.
Beast don't give a fuck bout all dat.
Beast thrive on your screams and feed off your whimpers.
Beast take pussy in car, on back porch, in bathroom at restaurant.
Beast say this my pussy and want you call Beast dirty fucker.
Beast call man sissy bitch, soft motherfucker.
Beast no like man.
Beast make you pay for giving man Beast pussy.
Man thinks he controls the Beast as he bends down and flicks his tongue across your clit.
As he admires the way you lay back and spread your legs.
So delicate, so divine.
Man plays in your hair and talks of finer things.
Man listens to you after sex in rapt attention.
Beast push legs apart and suck clit hard, Beast pull hair and wrap his hands round throat and bend you up as he fuck.
Beast make pussy rain water pon him.
Beat it from back and leave paw print.
Red whelps from scratches in your back.
Beast fall off pussy and go straight to sleep... Beast snore.
Man and Beast,  Beast and man.
Which am I?
So hard to discern.
Gentleman or savage Beast.
That my dear is the nature of things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, April 4, 2016

(THOUGHTS OF ANCIENT RENOWN ) KNOWLEDGE OF THE PHARAOHS
THE SOUND PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND...

This is me...
I am hue-man.
I won't give you the long diatribe about my descent from the stars or the fact that men sought to make me forget.
This is me...
I am one of many.
All these souls.
So many departed, gone back to the cosmos.
Within me is the potential to create change...
Born of god, a god.
An alien among my own kind for thoughts like these are frowned upon.
In my Dna I have the ability to bring calm.
A baby crying for the first time...
The sound of the waves touching land as you place him in the ocean the first time.
How he looks.
His amazement.
In my Dna I could lead the masses, to salvation or doom, just a choice.
Spark a riot or lead a movement.
Send men off to die for my cause.
The helix so complex yet so simple, keys locked away in mans pineal gland.
This is me contemplating these simple things.
Race and creed, classicism and social status.
So sad that in order to bring change I must challenge these things.
Such a short amount of time in the grand scheme.
A mere thin line in billions of years... Once I a star... Once you and I were one. Existing cosmical.
Here we are.
Selling land and items to one another when really no one owns these things.
There should be no poor, no homelessness, no downtrodden.
There is really no need for war, yet talk of peace always causes anger, hate and jealousy.
This is me just thinking in my god mind.
This is me.
I am everything... I am nothing.
I hue-man.
I in I
God and man.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Friday, April 1, 2016

(A FRACTION OF TRUTH)
THE SOUND...
https://youtu.be/lPT0y-voWC0

Do you know who you are?
I don't mean the watered down version where your his-story began on a ship sailing the Atlantic... The true dead sea where the ancestors bones still lie in the sand.
Do you feel?
Do you feel the dirt of creation flowing through your DNA?
The carbon, the water.
You exploded star.
Born of darkness and light.
Melanin in layers of skin.
The millions of suns sparking in your synapses.
Mirrors of the universe reflecting in the nappy hair on your head.
Do you know that the story they tell belittles your very existence that you born have the ability to be?
Be and it was, be and it is.
Prisons where you pineal are locked down.
Knowledge locked away in Vatican chambers and sealed rooms in secret places.
Knowledge used to enslave.
The illuminati right in your face... you so afraid to see his manifestation.
All man born of African soil... Man and mankind.
Two very different things.
One small step, such a daunting leap.
Do you know that pawns represent you.
A slave thinking that he is essential when all he is is a piece to be expended on the way to checkmate.
Do you know that in talking of these things we become enemies of a mind state?
Fear the dominant emotion.
Do you know that in not knowing these things you live contrary to the whole god concept?
Can I get an ameen?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY