(HUNG LOW)

The  beat pounding at my temples, points of impact imminent,  I a walking talking representation of the most high, a relatively nice guy.
A one man army capable of toppling whole systems, this my soul the trigger,  go figure as Allah guide I.
This language I speak, sometimes  legalese, at other times these streets, systems would crumble to death at these feet.
I a madman on these black and white keys, a veritable symphony as I emphatically type psychopathically,  these tomes who I be as as I ascend gracefully,  winged angels soaring in mine skies.
Fear but an emotion to be trodden down, found these days on my battleground as I beat drop subsonically, my people once slaves freed, I son seed  would fill thy needs if only thy would heed.
Child born of the heart of a fallen star, carbon, water and who thou art, would that I could impart.
This the beat that fantastically forms the being me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

(THE HARSHEST REALITY)

Every year I grow a year older knowing that not a damn thing I say is reaching not a motherfucker I designed it to effect.

My words falling into the abyss of forgotten things, they overshadowed by trivialities made to seem humongous. 

What a motherfucker is wearing the badge of acceptance as another child falls slain by the bullets of an uncaring gun held in the hands of an uncaring youth, a prejudiced cop, these the way to genocide. 

Such a soft piano track playing in the background,  an angelic choir singing in stringent tones.

Rising and falling like a chest gasping its last breath, a street corner in a man's ravaged mind.

Ancestors blood running like tears to the core of the earth, tears evaporating and becoming the rain washing away the stain.

My words wafting on the breeze and drifting away, my time here but a millisecond as I a bard try to make my mark, if only I had another lifetime, if only I had come a little harder.

I just a man watching these days pass by on my way to the end, my bones one day the dust that new civilizations will be built with.

Every year they remind me with fireworks and jubilation  that every word I utter is a dying one.

I fading into the forgotten have to deal with this.

This the reality. 

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

(BRIEFLY)

Some days I think of heaven and its relation to you and I... You such divine fruit encapsulating I a man born seed inside... Here I go again lost in thy moistened flesh... A sigh pon my lips... A fall through my lidded eyes and I... Whew... I remain suspended supine in thy tranguillity... I the beat in thine layers... The bass in thy place... Thy dew the amber keeping me solid dimensionally...I transfixed intergalactic... Tethered and complete... Scattered to a trillion particles... Thighs parted thou causeth I to gasp... I on the precipice... So soft... So pink... Thy the portal to my innerspace... The most secret of my clandestine places...A soft lick... A gentle whisper... A soft touch... Nay a firmer one... a moment as I savor of your essence... A second... An eternity as I dip.. deeply into the essential core you.

The dew...

The dew.