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Monday, April 15, 2013

[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 6


[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 6
THE MUSIC FOR THIS PART OF OUR TALE...
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL24cV6IIynrYxF3BiHwSg5WdxwSMWrJg_

Sampson just sits and looks at Melchizedek, this is the second revelation that he has heard in the same day and he tries to put it all in perspective.
He looks around at everything, the trees and rocks, the water trickling over the rocks in the stream and things fall into perspective for him.
Its always been that way for him and Melchizedek overstands that.
He let’s the young man think.
He sees Samson when he looks up and he also notices the dog as he stands and growls, he sees the smoke on the horizon and Sampson stands and starts to run.
His gait is methodical and the dog falls in beside him.
Melchizedek grabs his bow and his quiver and as he begins to run he puts them on.
His camp is over 4 miles away from where Sampson lives and even though they all are in good shape it takes them about 30 minutes to reach the house.
When they do they come up on a scene from hell. The barn and the house are engulfed in flames and they run down into the yard.
There is nothing that they can do and Melchizedek is not surprised to see how even in the face of all this Sampson does not break.
He stands in the middle of all the chaos and the reflection of the flames dances in his eyes. 
A tear runs from the corner of his eye and trickles down his face hanging for a second on the side of his lips before he wipes it away.
There is nothing that he and Melchizedek can do but watch the fire until the consume all that they can, it takes hours before the embers are cool enough for them to enter either of the buildings and by that time they have put together a pretty accurate picture of what happened.
Samson walks behind where the barn stood and he and the dog start to dig in the dirt.
Melchizedek comes over and helps and they soon here the sound of the shovel striking something wood. 
They extract it from the earth and it is a long wooden box that when opened contains money and a rifle. There are also other things in the wooden box and one of these things is a black scarf that was given to Sampson by his stepmother and he caresses it a moment before putting it in his pocket.
They sit on the ground in the middle of where the yard used to be and watch the embers of the fire glow in the twilight.
They do not sleep that night and the next morning finds them sifting through the ashes of the barn and they find the remains of his parents and wrap them in a blanket which was hanging on the line in back of the house.
They take them to a hill where a lone oak tree stands and dig two graves and bury the remains.
They perform a burial prayer ,Melchizedek has taught him the ritual already and it goes smoothly.
When they are done Melchizedek walks to him and looks him in his eyes and says one thing.
"Come lets make ready."
They turn and walk away and Men and dog melt into the surrounding forest.

THIS STORY WILL DEFINITELY CONTINUE SO STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE...

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY


(DUAL PERSONALITIES) A ONE MAN COLLAB FEATURING THE BEAST


(DUAL PERSONALITIES) A ONE MAN COLLAB FEATURING THE BEAST
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE. ITS A HUMDINGER....

http://youtu.be/XDZ31YQvxWY

Jerald
The flowers smell so sweet in the spring air... a beautiful day to behold as the suns rays shine down and warm the air.
A slight breeze caressing the fabric of my being... Red Cardinal flitting in the branches of the trees such a splendid day.
I see you walk towards me and your hips draw me in on their sway.

The Beast.
I am awakened from my bored state to pound surging to the forefront.
Such a delicate dish as you walk by... I see you pushing at the fragile shell of the clothes that you wear.
So fine...
So fucking full.
My nature barely contained and maintained screams at me to pursue.

Jerald
The day comes back in a blur and I find my attention attracted to a shape in the sky.
A hawk so graceful as he rides the currents of air.
Two mockingbirds escorting him away.
I watch them until they are specks in the cloud dappled sky.
I see her as she walks towards me ,cameltoe.

The Beast
Where was I?
Goddamn look at that. Such perfect lips.
Those on her face and the ones that pout out from the mound between her legs.
Make her shorts cry out to my personality.
You know, nature of the beast and I see her spread naked on a back seat...
Her cries of satisfaction as I stroke her freaky.

Jerald.
Ants on the wing as they swarm to repopulate the winter scarred earth draw me back from his grasp.
Jumping off into the air as the birds fly by and some become a meal... the circle of life must be complete.
She passes by and her butt draws my mind away once again.

The Beast.
I feels as if I have fallen into the land of milk and honey where big booties abound.
Such a beautiful specimen a fairy ripe for the taking, I swept away follow her and strike up a conversation.
Make her smile... make her giggle.
Set the time and date.

Jerald
I see her walking away and look at the phone in my hand.
Where did this number come from?
Why does my hand smell so sweet?


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Thursday, April 11, 2013

MEAN STREETS


[MEAN STREETS]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...  BETTA LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/5oAcYi264WE

A bullet shatters the glass and hits the baby in her arms on its way to bursting through the heart in her chest.
She falls and drops her dying child, another case of innocence lost in the savage city where thugs decimate the places they stay on the way to becoming G's.
The people come and lay flowers, burn candles and hold vigils, return to the same old bullshit.
The bones of the baby and the mother turn to dust and the earth still rotates and revolves as the law of 360 degrees meets itself again on the road to genocide.
Preachers charging so much to bury the dead that families go into debt... Still got to give that 10 percent... Pass the plate again.
Read the holy ever changing scrolls, version and revision on the road to all this division.
Pass the plate again.
Young mother living in the ghetto trying to get by on a 7 to 5 as her children play in the men ass streets, learning how to be beasts from dudes just a few years older, cause life spans is short in the middle of the game.
Prison or the grave.
He holds the gun in his hand and marvels at the power, with this he can fuck a nigger up.
He pulls the trigger and a bullet shatters the glass.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[TEARS AND JEERS]


[TEARS AND JEERS]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MESSAGGGGEEEEEE...
http://youtu.be/ALNF_DCg6VU

Sometimes the tears threaten to become a flood running over the banks of rivers of emotions.
H20 devoted to horrendous memories as told in slave narratives and passed on verbally.
These days it seems that everyone is running from the reality and following the tale of the beast.
Painted fiction so colorful that it dazzles like Nikki's makeup and a punk ass rapper prancing in skinny jeans.
Kissing babies in the mouth on network t.v.
Gangstalicious dreams of rising... Homies befoe hoes and the whole African nation suffers the injustice...
Another 500 years of being the nigger in the mirror... shucking and jiving... Cooning and buffoning.
Big lips and stretched eyes.
Cause the land of the free just don't ring true for the dislocated members of the African family... Cast to the four winds.
The flood cleans the earth.
The tears dry up


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

TURBULENCE IN HIS WAKE.


[TURBULENCE IN HIS WAKE.] SAVAGE BEATDOWN
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... THIS MUSIC IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE
http://youtu.be/c2sDwgPlHUE


His footfall as thunder upon his waking he stands and surveys his surroundings.
The sun falling through the slats of the blinds and he opens the door and breathes of the spring air...
So fresh, this morning.
His world awaits as he prepares for his day... Kingdom trees and coffee.
His mind pounds like a synthetic bass as he absorbs the sounds... Bird... squirrels... dragonfly on wing.
Manifestations of Allahs power in full fledged H.D.
Hypodermic injections of particles of air called the breeze tickle nerve endings and bring relief.
See he a prodigy... Educated on city streets and red Georgia clay...
See he a product of his environment born into separation.
Modern he is still the living breathing representation of Mother Africa roaming Babylon.
The signs he reads as he tries to interpret for the wide awake slaves that dot the landscape of his optics.
Blindly they follow bullshit tradition.
Life pounds in the deepest regions of his being and he moves to its beat...
His dance graceful and unique to the quaking percussion.
A warrior in repose.
Fall oh walls of Jericho...
Sonic is his thunder.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[THE CHOCOLATE OR THE PLUM?]


[THE CHOCOLATE OR THE PLUM?]
THIS IS THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MAKE SURE YOU CHECK IT OUT...
http://youtu.be/Q6qcSF3PPPw

Your essence...
Chocolate?
A plum?
You sweet, you juicy.
You melting on my tongue...
You dribbling in the hairs of my beard.
I nibble...
I drink...
My taste buds react to the chocolate of your skin...
The juice of your flower...
I fall into the complexity of your flavors.
Way more than 31 as from you have been birthed billions.
A lil flip on the dip of you released in memories of you...
The chocolate...
The fruit.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[STRONG LOVE TONES FALLING AS MIST] DEDICATED MY AFRICAN SISTERS

[STRONG LOVE TONES FALLING AS MIST] DEDICATED MY AFRICAN SISTERS
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... THIS IS MY ROOTS SO LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/_2-DDQQ-eOM


She like mist descends and covers my lands.
The hills and the trees.
Drops of her falling from leaves to forest floor.
I soaking in the dew as it runs down a blade of my grass.
To her I owe my existence and she owes hers to me.
She evaporates into the skies of my atmosphere and floats as the clouds in my fields of blue.
Falling as rain she fills my rivers and lakes... flows to my spacious oceans and seas.
Our relationship so intricate that it has never been clearly defined.
Not by psychologist, psychiatrist, preacher or bard.
I try but it eludes me as well.
She like mist descends.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY