SNAPPING PUSSY

(HONEYSUCKLE) SNAPPING PUSSY
THE MUSIC FOR THIS RIDE… SO DETRIMENTAL...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PoIl2R-noc&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I kiss her flower and she sighs.
Her petals so soft enthrall me and I manipulate them with my tongue.
She lying on a blanket naked in the cool air.
Nipples like large grapes from the feeding of babes she no stranger to a man’s attention.
Yet I am not ordinary man.
I smell what she likes in her particular scent.
My beast reveals her flavor… The way she likes it licked.
He stands poised like lion, like bear, like gorilla…
Your juice, his drink.
You flow across his tongue.
He I strain to contain for were I to release him fully she would be a dick whipped fool… Following me blindly around.
The beast smiles at that thought as she falls to her knees and kisses the head, spits, sucks as much as she can.
He looks into her eyes as she slurps loudly.
He feels confused… For a second there he felt… Love?
He pushes her back and looks into her orbs of brown and they seem to fall away into the deepness of where he exists.
She kisses the beast (me) and he mounts her hard and drives into her womb.
Her eyes widen… The beast likes that.
Her pussy tightens around his dick…
Let’s go…
Tightens again.
He roars his pleasure… Damn she feels so good.
She screams and squirts and covers him in her cum.
She is of the snapping pussy clan.
He is lost.
I feel my nut surging through the tubes.
Life bearing seeds.
I press her legs back and splatter the back wall of her womb.
The beast says… “Marry me.”
I tried to hold him back.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

FRAMEWORK

(FRAMEWORK)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

You in repose such a lovely work of art.
I sigh for there is so much more I want of you.
From the time of my birth I have been warrior.
Born on the hardest street in the hardest neighborhood in the city.
Born in a place where slavery under a new name held black people down…
All the while all you see is the skin I am in…
What I was when I had to be beast.
It assuring my survival.
I lingering in your air as a molecule drifting across your brown skin…
Wafting to your nostrils scented opium, it my link to true power.
I so locked in a passionate embrace with the thought of love.
Holding it against the black and grey hairs on my chest.
Whispering its name.
Talisman that keeps me from fading away… Becoming as transparent as clean glass against a morning sky.
Beast tranquil as the birds sing of ancient romance, same songs that were sung in a garden paradise echoing in these modern times.
I lost in the framework of your art as it unfolds before these eyes.
Becomes your solidity.
I see you in HD, such a lovely muse that at times it has moved I to tears.
I painting you in these character’s
and lines as you in repose fall from my mind.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF EMPRESSES AND WARRIORS)

(OF EMPRESSES AND WARRIORS) A COLLAB FEATURING LATRICIA MAZYCK
THE MUSIC FOR THIS COLLAB…
Latricia Mazyck
My Liege, what wonderful scribe passeth through thy pen and ‘Twas InKed on textured paper… Embedded within this scribe is the love that poureth from thy own heart…
Jerald Murphy
Ahhhh Latricia most fair.
Thy words burn in mine soul and causeth mine eyes to well with water at the heat of their scorching flames…
The breezes of thee… Fanning… Fanning.
Sending them sweeping with urgency across mine planes.
Thank thee empress.
Latricia Mazyck
Thy welcome cometh toward thine castle o’er yonder… swiftly it cometh to blanket thee with warmth and pure love from mine own heart to thee My Liege…
Jerald Murphy
I cover mine self with thy softest fleece and find myself comforted in a cold hard word…
I on knee accept thy welcome willingly fair maiden…
Daughter of kings.
I a warrior of flesh and blood cloaked in thy comfort becometh invincible
Latricia Mazyck
Alas! My breath is taken aback as I let out a soft-toned moan…
My cheeks a-flamed in a milk-chocolated blush;
which is apparent whilst a yawn surfaces itself from deep within… Involuntarily I acquiesce…
Slowly as my blood becomes cooler in my veins
For the heat overwhelmed me without warning…
Ebony eyes twinkle in unison with the Moonlight… A smile softly tip-toes across my face…
Jerald Murphy
I find myself slain in the depths of loves dungeon…
Willing prisoner to your manipulations as you are to mine.
I so lost as thee causeth my head to swell…
I  swoon in loss of blood to my receptive brain.
Thou art the most and I lost sigh as I sink into thy folds.
Mmmmm.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND Latricia Mazyck

(DOA) THE LAST HEARTBEAT

(DOA) THE LAST HEARTBEAT
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cg-eauPDd0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

And the world fell to the beat…
Man in the vastness of the all as the angels symphony becomes the     soundtrack…
Urgent, urgent…  patterns play across his subconscious as the thread is parted
He finds himself knowing the next breath might be his last and the choir stands locked on that one note
The next thought might take it black.
A second a millennia as the dimensions parted feed the particulates of his particulars and he knows he stands in the presence of greatness.
All and nothing as he free is given the choice... Choose wisely man.
The man recites and those around are as affected as he as he speaks.
Angel and man and there is nothing but the baritone of his voice as he lays his sound down.
Speaks his piece seized from the ancestors at the spark as he seed waited in that king line.
Father to son to grandson and so on...
Mother to daughter to grandaughter... Carried on hips and fed at breasts...
The angels stand prepared to carry this message to Allah, the man drops the rhythm and it created becomes fortified and formidable...
The earth quake's and mankind shakes.
Closing ears against the thunderous tones and freezing in the startling light...
The beat... The beat...
Tis unique.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

STAR SCREAM

(STAR SCREAM)
THE MUSIC FOR DIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8UlW8B2m8M&feature=youtube_gdata_player

We birthed of the union of a star and a planet as one ejaculated its spent ruins into space and the other hurtled through its vastness in a preordained pattern.
We rising as homo sapiens from the dust and taking our first steps…
Locked and rooted to the trees that towered above our infantile heads.
Spirals nappy attesting to our celestial origins
We inhaling of the sweet air as beasts primordial grazed and hunted on the plains below.
The originator walked with us then when we spiritual and free connected interdemensional to angels and demons.
When we locked and rooted as man and woman knew our union was the only means to our survival.
When we knew our places.
Flip side here at the end of our journey where we have lost touch.
With self, with our brother and sister, with Allah.
Locks and roots with no foundation grown on hollow heads and bouncing to a Drake beat
Bearing the weight of 2 Chains and a Lil man named Wayne as the army once strong has turned on itself and dies a genocidal, homicidal suicidal death.
Red flags, blue flags and demons allegiances as they die random in driveby's committed in broad daylight.
You woman in the arms of woman as he man plays the role of undercover brother and spreads the vilest of diseases.
Finds his solace in a man's bed.
Weakens the seed as it prances in low hanging skinny pants.
Learns not the ways of man.
Allah silent watches the proceeding as men spread this mental rot.
Sells his words distorted, twisted and perverted.
Run great churches as the masses sway in upheaval being no longer rooted or locked...
They untethered and drinking the illusion which is administered as grape juice which might as well contain cyanide, some of that Jim Jones Guyana tragedy religiosity.
Somebody got to get a notty heart, somebody got to get rooted and locked.
Somebody?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN

(THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-DBmotq-8E&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Man fell to earth escorted by smoke and fire, which in turn were reminiscent of his formation…
Created from the ashes of a sun.
Carbon, oxygen and hydrogen squared…
His impact though not that of a comet was momentous… He carving a path into solid earth.
Man formed civilizations that fell victim to lost memories.
Cities older than those told of in modern schools where westernization seems to have always been the goal.
Crosses and cannons you see… Sticks of spitting fire..
You see?
Man became the image of poverty painted in blackface, jigabooed on modern t.v.
He once king swung from the kind of man’s tree, mankind wearing white sheets and throwing gang signs masonically.
Swing in the breeze monkey.
Free is just another form of slavery if it ain’t really free from closed mentalities.
Man and the kind of man spiraling toward an uncertain destiny you see…
You see?
Smoke and fire burning in populated areas as helicopters hover and overseers patrol urban jungle streets…
Crack of the whip as a bullet exits a gun barrel…
A man falls hot to the ground, he cooling and leaving his mark red as the fire of his formation in a puddle soaking into the sand…
Running down a gutter.
See?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IMPLOSION

(IMPLOSION)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

A man’s heart beats in the throes of a massive implosion and sucks the air from the area surrounding him…
He in heartache falls to bended knee.
Crying in his pain he heaves with head bowed.
He raises his face the heavens as his heart now at the apex of its implosion releases the air and it devastating roars across the tundra of his despair and crushes all that stands in its way.
The lines on his face wet carry the drops of his tears to the corners where they drop bearing much weight.
Splatter into thousands of glittering prisms that catch the sun.
It witness to this display as the horizon rises above its setting crown.
Fire melting into the branches of the trees as darkness is ushered in.
It purple and pink on the clouds.
His heart now destroyed still beating in his hurting chest.
He having never felt this is consumed alone.
Love walking across the ruins of all he thought he knew as it picks up the pieces of his heart and placing them in order, reassembling them.
This vessel to be used again.
The man in sorrow knows not these things.
He only feels the agony as it implodes his aching heart.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY