(THE KING THE QUEEN AND THE SAVAGE DEGREES) A FANTASY
THE MUSIC FOR THIS TALE...
Love Piano DubStep/Rap Beat w/Hook "If i had you"…: http://youtu.be/cZeq6y_4Ga0

Once upon a time in the past where we came from we knew our places.
The queen just as important as the king.
They entwined wove a tapestry rich with color... With abundant life.
He and she... We.
He knew that it was his duty to stand lion.
To drop subsonic and nucleonic in the protection of his tribe... His pride.
Erupting from the scenery and ripping ass to shreds if need be.
She respected he and he in turn respected her.
Long before ERA and feminism African queens knew who they were.
Looking out over the water they knew that the world was round.
Back when Europeans thought it flat.
She and he existed in harmony.
This was before we the displaced started to question our union.
Somewhere around the ship and the whip...
The institution Christianity and the lie his-story...
That being about the time we began to question our humanity... Our femininity... Our being... Our black you see.
So sad that the earth cries at our eventual loss.
If you watch sci-fi movies and subscribe to fantasies this is what they would have you believe.
That we the prototype will be no more.
They will discover all the new worlds.
That they came first.
It's all relative reflected transparently across a subconscious screen... Playing 3d.
One day the people heard the sanity and gave up being niggas and bitches, drug dealers and nasty hoes.
They live happily ever after.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

THE LEGEND OF SARAH BARTMANN

And they set out to make your thickness the curse... Parading you through the streets as if you were a specimen in a zoo.
The men turned on gazed upon you lustfully for you were their property now... They would have you by force night after night as your king stood idly by.
Whipped into a parody of himself  as he emansculated cried.
His woman's disdain of his strength grew strong for it was a curse to her sons and she set out to create the ideal black man.
Told her sons to be humble and subservient as she looked out the window at her man swinging from a tree charred and smoking in the dawn.
He an abject lesson on having pride in who we were.
She loved her boys and though strong of body they became weak of mind.
The woman of them sitting by and resenting your presence... The fullness of you.
Happy hair and big lips... She called you ugly and flaunted her prosperity at you generation after generation till you hated yourself.
Yet your beauty still became the icon.
That had to be stopped for you regaining consciousness had the ability to crush oppressive regimes... Tear down the walls of the old and modern system Babylon.
They sold you lighter skin and straighter hair.
They sold you blue eyes and butt reductions.
They told you how good you would look if only you looked like them, all the while laughing cause black women ain't got blond hair unless its bleached by the sun.
Hilly Berry and Nikki Menage.
Lol Kim lookin like Chuckys nightmare on Elm street.
I like you just the way you are...
Thick black and deliciously strong.
I see your pain and will pop shots in the night and the day to rectify this situation.
My companion, my soul, my being.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

This is just a brief summation of Sarah Bartman. I would encourage you to follow up and read more.

"When 20 year old Sara Baartman got on a boat that was to take her from Cape Town to London in 1810, she could not have known that she would never see her home again. Nor, as she stood on the deck and saw her homeland disappear behind her could she have known that she would become the icon of racial inferiority and black female sexuality for the next 100 years.

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SARA BAARTMAN is the fascinating story of this Khoi Khoi woman who was taken from South Africa, and then exhibited as a freak across Britain. The image and idea of "The Hottentot Venus" swept through British popular culture. A court battle waged by abolitionists to free her from her exhibitors failed.

In 1814 she was taken to France, and became the object of scientific and medical research that formed the bedrock of European ideas about black female sexuality. She died the next year. But even after her death, Sara Baartman remained an object of imperialist scientific investigation. In the name of Science, her sexual organs and brain were displayed in the Musee de l'Homme in Paris until as recently as 1985."

(EYE A MAN CRY)

(EYE A MAN CRY)
THE SOUND OF EYE A CRY...
http://youtu.be/VBpOdi6Rp8A

And what would eye a man say of these humans who exist so vague?
Would eye speak of their great expectations and haughty ambitions.
Many to be God or a least white Jesus... A lie will never gain stable ground... Sand can't hold castles.
Would eye  speak of his great nations at war with each other?
Killing in the name of democracy... In the name of justice.
In the name of inhumanity... Killing.
That means someone will breathe no more in human form, his essence gone into the flow dimension which sighs and welcomes him as it continues 360.
Forward, backwards, meeting again at some point.
Would eye speak of his inability to see his devastating wake... The destruction he leaves... Shattered little souls growing fractured in the ghettos.
Some of them roses and others weeds which need to be eradicated mentally.
Eye a man crying even when I'm smiling cause eye  know the truth.
That babies die and leave parents behind to contemplate what could have been.
The sun rises above yet another day where another baby dies somewhere... Where an innocent man will be sent to prison cause he's black.
Fuel for the prison complex which is a predetermined death... 5 years... 20 to life.
That closed minds are the saddest things.
Eye man see this optical and pineal...
Eye man cry eyeternally.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE GRIOTS TALE STINGING AND GRITTY)
THE MUSIC...
"Freedom" by Anthony Hamilton & Elayna Boynton - …: http://youtu.be/8IydisW8iwU

You wanted me to treat you like a queen, you thinking that being a queen was wearing the trappings of a slave.
I looked into your eyes as you told me that you hated your hair... It being so nappy... You told me that your skin was to dark and my soul cried even as a young thing.
The ancestors told me you had this pain, that you hated them for being taken from the motherland and casting you into this nightmare.
You wanting to be like his queen... Blond hair and blue eyes.
Tight flat ass and the warrior in me on bended knee begged you to regain your strength... Begged you to take his hand.
You being independent by now ignored my pleas.
Our children became smarter in a way but they had lost all sense of direction as they walked away in Jordan's and with a white families name plastered on their ass.
Driving his cars and buying his furniture as our legacy became the byword in his-story.
And here I the griot stand at the other end of this tale wondering.
Where might I find a queen in these days of basketball wives and rachet hoes?
Thugs saggin and pretty boys on the downlow?
How can I treat you like a queen?
You hate everything that makes us us.
You ain't no queen
A queen knows her place.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SOUTHERN PUNANI LICKA)

(SOUTHERN PUNANI LICKA)
THE SOUND... THIS IS A VIDEO OF ME READING THIS PIECE...
http://youtu.be/G8USInoIysU

I been thankin bout you...
I mean really thankin.
Bout yo brown skin and yo pretty lil titties.
Bout that natural you wear... I really wanna show you some thangs.
Touch yo body and make you bend yo back.
I'm tellin you girl... I been thankin bout you
I will make you cum 5 times just to see the look in yo eyes.
Let you ride it cowboy, cowgirl and just straight elicit sighs.
Flip you over and watch dat clit squirt in the air.
Bend down and taste that juicey juice... Ahhhh yo flair.
Push them legs back and stand strong in dat punani.
Fuck you till you beg me... Girl stop runnin.
As the beatdown goes on... I beat warrior strong.
Rub you on them pretty ass cheeks and smooth yo hair down to soothe you cause I beast fuck supremely... I doose da do.
I drink punani juice cocktails from between yo legs... Let it dribble down into my grey and black beard hair.
I betta let this thang go cause every time I thank bout you, I take it there to where shit so real it a drive a crazy man sane... Circuses and fairs and all kinda brain drains.
Shorty you betta beware, cause I really wanna Skeet in yo pussy hair.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SNIFF)

(SNIFF)
THE MUSIC...
Cashmere Cat : With Me (Female Remix): http://youtu.be/PmYTFonn0TU

Sitting here with punani on my mind, scent so strong in my psyche that I grow heavy.
I seeking you start to scribe.
Painting you into existence from the fertile grind of my fevered mind, where you with Afro on your head and between your legs are the manifestation.
Ahhhh... and I breathe of you inhaling you deep into my lungs.
You real reach out and touch me on my manhood and I swoon, slang you down and make you feel my tongue all the way down to the roots of your hair as I Big Beast take you there, bring you back and there we go once again.
Off in the land "Fuck Me!" In the city "Throw That Pussy Baby."
On the street Big Dick where I reside.
All up in dat.
You born in the imagination have become so tangible.
I reach out and you disappear on the wings of a dream where I spread you wide and ravaged you savagely.
Clouds disappearing as you drift in the loud smoke.
My whole planet needs you so.
Subconsciously I know this so.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CHEMICAL COMPOUND)

(CHEMICAL COMPOUND) A WORD, SIGHT AND SOUND POST... TOPIC SUGGESTED BY GOLD BIRD... THE TOPIC WAS SEXUAL CHEMISTRY.
THIS VIDEO IS THIS POEM BEING READ... WATCH IT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK...

You empress are the chemical component that completes me.
Our attraction happening on atomic levels.
So basic my need.
I smell you in my sleep, on subconscious levels.
In my waking as a fragrant daydream.
From the first moment that I caught a whiff of you pheromonically was I lost.
My attraction for you having consumed me... I a hawk on the wing... A lion on the prowl.. in thee am I free.
You having rearranged my DNA structure.
Making I an unstoppable force blessed with the chemistry to metamorphically be.
All this and more as I feel you drifting across my neurons and dropping bass heavy into my melted core.
I looked into your eyes and fell into your mix.
We empress have that chemistry.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY