(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