(SPINDERFELLA)

What if?

What if all these people overstood that we were meant to be free... Some of that pure spirituality that you see in a babies eyes... What if? And life goes on unabated... So many lost in granduer... So many chasing it... Some run under by it as the world progressively moves on.

The needs of the many driven by created need.

What if?

I take a puff of the blunt, the smoke I exhale dissipating into the atmosphere... Layers upon layers... Levels upon levels, we standing on squares.

So much beauty as man rushes along heedlessly... He never stoping to check his wake to see what he has wrought... All this damage... Collectively.

The earth cries out to a darkened sky... Casting it's reflective light into the universe.

A sigh...

What if.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(WHO IS IT?)

I want to talk to you... Love been a mean motherfucker to me, done left me with the cover pulled over my head.

Imagine me, dreading another day.

Heart so empty I hear echoes everytime a bitch speak to me.

Love see?

So much promise and here lies love broken down and in agony.

I could a cried but all those tears would've watered was some foul ass seed.

I so low that worms could a pissed on me.

Walking among these people who my pain, my pain.

They could not see.

That was then this is now and love knocks on my door.

I wanna open it so bad.

I wanna open it so bad.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(RESURRECTION)

I was black in the womb.

I'mma be even blacker in the tomb.

Ain't got time to be scared cause I dwell in the darkest of the dark.

That born at the hands of Allah that was dropped in mans formation.

That pure tribal drum get down... Beatdown and bass thunder cross these theoretical plains.

Kick in does and bust motherfuckers brains... Splatter on a white wall.

A moment in these halls where all the doors require keys.

Sign and cornerstones and degrees.

Indoctrinated masses falling to their knees.

Jaws dropped in awe at this universally divine verse-ology.

Created in amniotic Chambers than span hue-man existence.

God's and goddesses born of Sons and Earth's.

No time to be scared as the youth they get shot on streetcorners... As babies are murdered at the hands of perverts.

My people strangers in an even stranger land.

These lyrics called reverse racism as so many linger in man made prisons... Some mental some physical, a caring shame as men bow their heads to false kings.

Presidents, dictators and despots, prophecy foretold as the masses blind are led straight to the seven hells.

Darkness flipped to light and formulated to verbally synchopated words.

I existing black floating in the womb... I who pounds on the walls of this mentally fabricated tomb... I whom hast removed the proverbial capping stone.

I am, The resurrection.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(NAVIGATIONAL)

I waan make you wetta... Wetta dan you ever been... A veritable ocean.

I sailing all on yo seas... the waves of yo undulating skin... Sipping of your salty waters... So inspiring the map carved into your skin.

I wanna make you shiver and shake... Scream my name... Ask me what I'm doing to you... Damn you taste great... Dribbling off my bearded chin... Yo ocean flowing and wetting the bed... Both my head's covered in your dew... My mind in beast mode... So fucked up on you.

Bounce that booty... Whew lawdddd... I just sprinkled a little bit... A lil skeet... Let me spank dat cheek... I Sinbad wanna plunder your treasure...

Wanna make you wetta dan you ever been...

I wanna sail yo ocean.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(ONE DAY)

TOPIC SUGGESTED BY SHERINA

The slave toiling looked up at the sky and wished for something different.

The sun shining in blue sky testified as he labored.

It penetrated the layers of his mind and laid them open.

So much pain, so little joy 

He looked over and saw his woman.

She was bent over working heavy with child, she looked at him and smiled.

Six months pregnant, toiling for an uncaring man.

His heart weeped tears.

His child would be born a slave just like he and her 

Like all these others surrounding them.

The overseer on his steed riding in the midst of them.

The other slaves whispered of Christmas, of the grand party the master would give.

Dancing and liquor, some new rags to cover their backs.

The slave working pondered these things.

Last night he had learned a new word, racism.

It was so profound a revelation, that they had a word for this hell.

He had heard it from a traveling man. A former slave who had run away. He now lived on the fringes. He moved in the darkness spreading light to the slaves that would hear.

His words had penetrated the slaves heart.

This slave his name unimportant because he was one of many. Irrelevant or so it would be said in future times. Told in church he should be happy he was a slave, told he should serve his master humbly and happy.

The cotton reminding him that winter was near.

Cold days and freezing nights.

Into this his child would be born. Another slave added to Massas roll. 

He played these things in his minds as the day dragged along, the sun traveling much like the man, spreading light.

Eventually it began to sink in the western sky and the slaves climbed on wagons to be returned to the shanties that they called home.

When they arrived they were counted and turned loose to go to their homes. 

He took her hand and they walked to their shack. She so beautiful that his breath caught in his throat. He had to tell her, such the way of things 

He sat her down and told her of his dreams, no more slavery, freedom for their child. Her eyes wide as he laid these things before her. 

In the end he simply grew quiet, no more to say. They looking at the crackling fire.

The words coming from her mouth as whisper yet so loud. "I'm going with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What about our child?"

"One day he will thank us."

He placed his hand on her stomach and she placed hers on his.

They stood up and began to pack their things.

A knock upon the door.

He opened it.

The traveler stood there.

It is time to go my son.

She walked out before him, he looked around and closed the door.

End scene.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(EPIDERMICALLY)

Your skin makes me want to touch you... Run my fingers across it... Lick you in your most secret spaces.

Your skin makes me want to hear you moan and scream my name.

It almost drives me insane looking at you.

Such a delicious dish served warm.

Your skin undulates under that sundress, in those yoga pants.

It pushes at the front as camel toe and makes my manhood swell.

Makes me want to take my tongue and lap you up 

Your juice glistening in the hairs on my chinny, chin, chin.

Your skin makes me want to throw you on the bed, legs all spread.

Drive into you with maximum force, hear that expel of breath as your eyes grow wide and your hips gyrate.

Bend you over and spank that ass as the cum rising from my belly.

It causes me to roar your name.

Spilling out and coating you inside and out.

Soaks your thighs, the sheets and causes us to collapse expelled.

Your skin, your skin... Permeating my brain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

THE FIRST VOICE

The voice came from the dark... A spot of light in total black.

Who are you?

I am that motherfucker that a motherfucker don't wash see.

I am an eloquent beast.

I am the man that formed at the word be.

I am the infine being I See.

The voice speaks again.

Thou speaketh strong lyrics I See. A true testament to the lineage of kings.

You follow the straight line and navigate the crooked.

What is thou purpose I See?

My purpose is to spread the truth that's been diluted.

That which has been distorted, twisted and convoluted. I use any means at my disposal.

I am enemy to many, I have just as many friends.

I am balance on a lopsided planet inhabited by beings who are held down by an ideological gravity.

My voice echoing across a theoretical Galaxy, planets held in place illuminati-cally.

Sun after son after sun after son living another's fantasy.

They thinking that's how it's supposed to be.

The voice speaks one last time a moment before I realize it's mine.

A spot of light in absolute darkness.

A moment in meditation, pineal connection.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

(THE STRANGEST THING) A ONE WORD SUBMISSION PIECE

Here I come to bring you a bizarre tale, the fucked up shit is it's real.

Born of the red clay of Georgia fields and the fine sand of Florida beaches.

Of people who sought preeminence on the backs of others.

Men who crushed spirits and cut babies from wombs.

Shattered lives and stunted growth.

Mothers crying for the unborn who would grow up in this fucked up system.

Shit so fucked up it reads like a made up Yeti tale.

Some of that cringing by the fire as an elder speaks of demon and monsters.

Yet I'm the midst of this some were born enigblactic, proud of the melanin.

Proud of the people that they originated from.

Their very nature quintessence, they the calm in a tragic storm.

Their very words pure African wisdom.

Some would lable these tomes arcane.

They born Gnostic in a sea of misinformation.

Such a sordid tale as broken down metaphorically.

Tears on a lions cheeks.

So many have died, gone the way of Foxfire and other B movies.

Trash on the proverbial heap.

It's a wonder that joy still exists at all as this tale Is told on a December Eve in 2019.

So many still begging for scraps on bended knees as others live like Kings and Queens.

A social disease conceived and formulated on stolen ground.

I had to tell you my people.

It's such a bizarre tale.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

WORDS SUBMITTED BY:

LEE BIG : ENIGBLACTIC

KEITH : PREEMINENCE AND WORD

THOMAS : GROWTH

MUSTAFA : YETI

STEPHANIE ROBINSON: QUINTESSENCE

JAY WADE : GNOSTIC

DETROIT CAS : ARCANE

ROE :FOXFIRE

JOY HUNT: JOY

GAIL RUCKER : BIZARRE.

(SON FALLING TO EARTH)

You got my mind spinning.

A man descending in freefall.

So much heat and I... Wow!

I heavy in anticipation of all that you are.

Lying beneath me and I... Wow.

I savor the view.

So awe inspiring and the strings of my heart.

They play a stringently beautiful song.

Blood rushing through my ears.

The sound of mating crickets.

Your skin and I... Wow!

I want to lap of your flesh.

Make you wet... Skeet, skeet and skeet.

Just the beginning and I... Wow.

I want to follow your stretch marks.

Straight to your forest... Spread you and bring you to the brink.

The little death.

I holding on as you... Wow!

You orgasmical intrigue me.

Screams and moans echoing off the walls.

My mind in the sweetest state of turmoil.

You... Wow!

Got me spinning.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(THESE THINGS I BEQUEATH)

Like Lion emitting subsonic roar on african pain I have smelled thine scent.

My voice traveling for miles vibrating the air, shaking thine core.

I will follow thou to the ends of the Earth.

This need so great. I feel thee in mine Molton core. The font of mine beginnings.

Our union foretold of in the stars, in ancient legends buried beneath the sand of deserts, the sand of seas.

Beauty and her Savage beast.

I would rend the Earth for thee. Lasso a star and hand it to thee.

So inspiring art thou that I would merge lyricality, old to the new.

Create sonnets so beautiful that a future reader would be moved to tears.

Wet drops falling to the keyboard. Shimmering and glistening.

Like Lion I would not eat until I found thee. Mounted thee and made thee mine.

Our union producing the seeds of future generations.

Kings and Queens, emperor's and empresses, prophets spoken of in holy texts.

Thy beauty the blueprint for femininity... Mine the masculinity.

These things spoken into existence on the air that beats to the rhythm of these words.

I Lion would convey these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

(HARD WATER)

There's nothing like a woman fresh from the shower.

Come here baby, let me see, fuckin wit my mentality.

If I were a sculptor I would remold you out of clay.

Splash little clear drops of glue on my finished piece.

Place you on my living room table and call you dew.

Show people your fine lines and speak of your levels.

Droplets forming rivulets and saturating my mind.

Stretch marks and that nappy hair on your head and mond veneris.

Oh my! Got to catch my breath.

Cool breeze on my teeth as I suck you in.

Drink of your divinity, oh Allah hast blessed me aplenty.

Such are the blessings bestowed on me.

I inhale and your scent makes me heady.

One more time and I may swoon.

Cleopatra and Nefertiti cross my mind.

Promises made in ancient times when my 34th removed grandfather was alive.

Right here right now and I looking at your dark brown skin.

You dripping and wet.

Oh my!

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

(IN HER)

She falls as stardust upon I a man planet.

Seeds of life and all that.

Her flesh born of the union of atoms stretching my universe.

In her I become the cosmos.

I invincible.

She falls as softly pattering raindrops upon I a man plain.

Life and all that.

Her rain flowing in all my levels.

Ponds, lakes, oceans and seas.

In her I am suspended transfixed.

I traveling.

She falls as blood flowing in I a man vein.

Tremendous pressure beating down.

Pounding down drums and all that.

Orgasmic spasms of pure ecstacy.

I dancing rhythmically.

She is the gas that I man smoke in a white owl green.

So sweet in my lungs.

Zen and all that.

I levitating radiating.

My shine and my 👑.

In her I Be.

I omnipotent.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ.JM@GMAIL.COM MURPHY

(I MAN EXTENSION)

I man exist.

I man am conundrum.

Harder than trigonometry, harder to describe than quantum physics in a language you don't overstand.

I man a man in all my origins.

Born of sun and Earth, a pure ghetto denizin.

I mn inhabit planets in other galaxies.

I man interplanetary.

Other dimensions are my eventuality.

I am man seen.

God in mine being.

I man see.

I rock these keys.

I man soliloquy.

A keyboard fueled Rhapsody.

Such a vivid image across I man screen.

Pain and tragedy, happiness, love and ecstacy.

I man stepping into the crowd and spraying it up.

Adverb and verb hollow points, noun and pronoun mirror rounds.

I man Samuri with metaphor and hyperbole gleaming swords.

Evicerating truth from convoluted lies.

I man lingering in all these things.

Revelations in this reality.

I man among those who inhabit this hypocrisy.

I man.

Eye exist cosmically.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY