LOVE LIVES

(LOVE LIVES) A ONE WORD TOPIC SUBMITTED BY ADRIENN BENEWAY
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLs3sivEcLY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Did you know that love has life...
That it can be a friend or an enemy...
Did you know love can kill mentally and physically...
That it has the ability to laugh.
Love can sing, a song so sweet that the leaves of trees seem to sway in its breeze.
They suspended in a lovers eyes on a day in winter devoid of their color.
They blooming on a spring day vibrant and green.
Love can revive... Lift the dead right out of a soul.
Make it alive and free.
Did you know these things?
That love can make a grown man cry tears from red eyes...
He wondering why love had to be so mean.
He remembering when love made him smile.
When she was the apple of his eyes.
Where she was once juicy and sweet she has become bitter.
Love can sour.
Drown some in sorrow and take others to fluffy clouds.
Love lives in books and on computer screens.
On walls and carved into trees.
Did you know that love never having died has life?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SEXTRAVAGANZA)
MUSIC PLEASE...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idmE96EWKHo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

He opened his eyes and she lie sleeping next to him.
He was confounded yet he did not look away.
Enthralled was he.
He dared not wake this exquisite creature.
She looking like frail for to he...
Yet there was strength in her form.
She stirred and turned and he saw her nipples.
Her belly button... The v between her thighs.
She opened her eyes and looked into his and so many words were spoken, even though none were.
She stood and stretched and he saw her sex.
Pouty and full.
He stood and his manhood Hung strong and thick but he made no move towards her.
He savoring every fraction of this reverberating second.
She bit her lip and he cocked his head to the side his manhood starting to rise
Her eyes stretched in wonder.
They stayed like that... Looking at each other until the pounding blood sounded like rolling thunder in their ears.
He needing her.
She needing he as they fell to the floor and he drove into she, she rode him back, she on her knees as he stroked her inner sides.
Sweat mingled with wet and juicy.
The two became one then two and sometimes it felt like three ... He calling her name so loud that the windows seemed to rattle.
She purring and clawing his ass, his back.
Finally, he exploding as she begs him to fill her up, it running down her ass cheeks.
He falls beside her and looks into her eyes.
No words are needed.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SON REFLECTING IN THE SUNSHINE)

(SON REFLECTING IN THE SUNSHINE)
THE MUSIC...

You thought you could silence I n I.
Think again.
Did the sun not rise the morning from the depths of a black sky?
Does it now shine from a fluffy cloud filled sky, they hanging against a blue scene.
Do I not see it?
Can't silence I n I.
As long a shred of injustice exists against my people there will be others like I.
Eye see... We see.
You thought exile could break we.Silence our screams.
Nelson in a prison cell... Martin Lee Anderson in a boot camp. Malcolm made into a violent man when he was peace.
As long as a breath is pulled into my lungs and becomes oxygenated blood beating through my notty black heart I will be a thorn in the side of the establishment cause the establishment don't represent me or the children of chattel slavery.
Children of Israel lingering in Babylon where the sun shines on stolen ground... Dust of a great civilization rising under shuffling feet.
Nahhh... Silence ain't for me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SAVAGE CONUNDRUM)
THE MUSIC... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmjG7lOsY8g&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I mean what would I be without you?
You ripped from an ancient mans rib on a starlit night.
Fashioned from the same framework as he but oh so different.
Lions and hyenas in the back ground as you black and beautiful emerged formed of carbon and water.
Soft as wet...
What would I be if you had not borne Moses, Shaka, and Hannibal?
If you had not let me take your hand and shown you the celestial heavens spinning in slow motion above our nappy heads.
If you had not been in the hold of those slaveships.
We born of Kemit, Kush, and Sheba now known as Ethiopia.
Where would I be if you had given up in segregation.
Dogs barking while white police bashed black skulls and crosses burnt on southern lawns.
Our childs body swinging in the flickering light and hanging lifeless from our favorite pecan tree.
Where would i?
No what would I?
No… Could I be?
Thats why I will never forsake the words spoken to an ancient man by seraphim.
She is bequeathed unto thee...
She your other half.
Two parts of a whole.
I open my eyes and I see...
Thee... the black woman as queen supreme.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Jerald Murphy is a writer, chef, philosopher who was born in Moultrie Ga, in his grandparents home in the turbulent sixties.
He is the father of 9 children one of whom passed in 2003 and has 11 grandchildren.
To say that he is a product of his environment is an understatement.
He is the result of his environment having grown up in between the black side of Moultrie and the projects of Tallahassee.
Jerald started to read at the early age of three and it is that reading along with the influences of various Muslims, Rasta's and "militants" that shaped and molded him Into the writer he is today.
His greatest influences were his Father, Willie Lawrence Murphy and his Mother, Mildred Jolly Murphy Williams.
In the eighties he was a medics in the army and after his tour of duty he returned to Tallahassee where he was asked to be a community columnist for the local newspaper.
He also pursued his love of cooking which he turned into a carrer.
Eventually becoming a chef he was the head sous chef for the Mill Bakery Brewery and Eatery for the 96 Olympic games in Atlanta Ga.
He returned to Tallahassee and was the co-host as well as commentator for the popular radio show "Sunday flava with Robert Blake on 90.5, Florida A&M's radio station.
He has hosted numerous poetry shows and has been involved in some community activism as well.
In 2005 he joined MySpace where after two years he became a prominent figure in the writing community and for two years straight he had two of the top 10 blog's on MySpace out of over two million blog's.
Today Jerald can be found antagonizing readers on Facebook or his children and grandchildren at home.
Jerald's greatest ambition is to be published.

AS HONEY

(AS HONEY) DEDICATED TO LAVETTA OCCULAR WHOM I MET IN A LIBRARY IN SPRING...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLs3sivEcLY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I met her in a house of books... Knowledge all around...
I a traveler on the road of overstanding.
She introduced herself and I saw her deeply.
The makings of a queen unbound and unrestrained.
She walked in front of me and blew my mind, body and soul.
She so fine that I sucked in my breath.
Coughed as the smoke hit my lungs and clouded my mind.
Burning embers and lidded eyes.
As she spoke I found myself riding her smooth tones.
Grooving to her funky beat, it flowing and sweet.
Her eyes the conductor.
They brown, now hazel, now honey.
She such an empress complete.
Her thoughts became all I could see as flowers blooming elicited their fragrance.
The birds backup singers as the sounds of the day passed us by.
She eventually said she had to leave, as I stood and we rentered the house of scrolls where our beginnings and doings are found.
Bound and categorized.
She empress ripped from a man's story came to life in the spring.
Vibrantly complete.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IRON LION ZION TRAIN IN BABYLON

(IRON LION ZION TRAIN IN BABYLON)
THE SOUND REINFORCES HOW I FEEL RIGHT BOUT NOW...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBnR28_uSHI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.
Not just black and white but spiritually.
I seeing differently.
A lion thrown in among the sheep.
What many saw as hoes I saw as queens...Their beauty devine they having weathered many tragedies watched their sons murdered and their daughters raped and forced to bear half breeds.
Fractions of blood density...
Mulattos, octoroons and squadrons.
On my side of the tracks nigger life is cheap... Sensationalized on the evening news and in rap videos where the nigger flaunts his ignorant.
I having become adept became a master at crossing the tracks and making contact with the right as preached on Sunday in black pulpits...
White Jesus bearing witness.
Skinny and pale.
Bleeding trickery on the deceived.
The train promised but never arriving as whole congregations pray for Zion... Eyes and minds closed.
Masons, Shriners and Eastern Stars in their midst.
Wolves among the flock.
They the illuminati holding knowledge hostage on bended knees with a sword at his neck.
"Get back... Get back or I slit his throat! Slit your throat!"
Eye see the insanity of conformity.
As I the train traverse the tracks.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY