{THE BEAUTY OF THE BOOTY} THE MODEL IN THIS PHOTO IS BRITNEY TIPTON A CLOSE FRIEND OF MINE... THIS PIECE IS A DEDICATION TO ALL THE WOMEN WHO READ MY WORK
THE SOUND... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/wsDHOMmXjFY

A new day dawns... Sun breaking out of the darkness... First as the deepest blue and eventually becoming the glaring white.
A new day and I son appreciate the ability to rise.
A bran carrot cake muffin and a cup of Killamanjaro coffee.
A scribe pon mine old soul and I son...
I am still looking for the one.
The booty... The booty walks by an a moment of silence in reflection.
I son a man of Africa born into a new world where I son exist in Amerikkka as a warrior fighting for a lost ideal...
Freedom, and it right in our grasp dies the death of being ignored as a possibility.
It is buried without fanfare in an unmarked grave that is spat upon.
The light of recognition falls in shade spattered blotches on my soul and I find an oak tree to sit under.
Watch dog as she does her thing... We so integral to the whole dynamic of this thing...
And booty... Booty passes by.
A moment of silence.
I son alone see these things.
She plays across my mind like an old song written before my birth, a lovely sonata or perhaps a diversion.
I son bump her in my soul.
She calming the raging emotions, the feeling of emptiness that is the darkest pit of my existence.
The calm black waters where I son sit by my sea...
She breaking down the doors to my cell.
The booty... The booty.
Silence...
It causing waves to form on my seas... A breeze to blow and my ship it comes sailing silently into port and I a Griot embark.
My tale must be told... The tale of my ancestors... The tale of future generations and I son pump her through my headphones as the basis of my life.
The booty... The booty.
I so lost in the magic of this moment where the sun warms the skin of a son and shines its light pon thee my queen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

I see yo chocolate and I be

( KEEPER OF THE BEAST)
THE SOUND OF COMPLEXITY...
http://youtu.be/GzUe8TYpCUY

I see yo chocolate and I be...
I be fucked up trying to contain the beast cause the beast wants to fuck you up... fuck you down.
The beast wants to throw your legs back and explore your folds.
Suck the juicy right out ya.
And I all fucked up in you try to beg of the beast to not unleash upon you.
He pounding in the preponderous appendage that beats between his legs.
It swelling skin and veins opens its eye to the bounteous sight of your pubic mound and your clit waves a greeting... He responding with tear in eye.
He wanting to see the most secret pf your  places and explore the base of your heart...
Rest on the mountains of your thoughts.
Breathe of thine fresh air.
Make you cum as water flowing down your valley.
The beast speaks to me and I be...
I be fucked up cause you become I see...
I finding that I must have you.
Gotta have you.
Need you to spray as mist on me.
Splattered shattered drops of we.
Brown, black, and oh so prismatically.
I see yo chocolate...
I be.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{ FRIED AND SCRAMBLED } A LOVE POEM DEDICATED TO ALL THE AFRICAN QUEENS...
THE BEATDOWN FOR THIS ONE... PUREST HEART FYAH...
http://youtu.be/B4VxaSR2uUo


Thy Empress, art the planet that I shine my rays upon..
As I dawn these new days where a black man ain't afraid to speak thine beauty into the ages...
Speaketh highest of thee.
Break the beat pon thine essence.
Make a distant son think of thee as he wakes under another sun...
He a distant relative see?
I who seeith thee as the salve for these wounds of mine...
I would spark lightning pon thine loveliness and bringeth forth thunder that shakes the ground in its rumble...
I scrolling this lyrical symphony would rend asunder preconceived notions of you as a bitch and a hoe.
A neck rolling, head popping parody...
That shit right there.
My rays would warm thine surface and heat thine very core...
Stir your depths into the hypothetical being queen see ?
The thump in the trunk of life that takes I down this highway where people stand by...
Another time and place and I am being...
Swept along.
Some of that hypercality of whichest I speak.
We reigning thermonuclear in our manifestation...
We knowing who we be.
Thee and I of whom I a poet speak as I drop the syllables and screw these verbs...
Chop us up and rebuild us as soliloquy...
Our light...
Our light...
I lovest thou so.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE HEAVENS OPENED A MANS SOUL) A STROLL AND A SCROLL
THE SOUND... THIS PIECE WSS WRITTEN FOR THIS MUSIC... MISS IT AND YOU MIGHT MISS THE POINT...
http://youtu.be/qlc651yQ7uM

And a man walks alone through a path under the rooftop of the trees.
Their boughs thin for it is winter.
The man sees the expanse of stars peeking through and it reassures him that he is not alone.
Even though at times it most assuredly seems so.
Man and nature one and he says a silent few words to the one god Allah.
Thanks him for the chance to make this journey.
For allowing him to see, smell and touch these things.
He, man has seen rough times.
He, man has seen miraculous happenings.
Always he is amazed at the highs and the lows of this symphony.
The stormy seas and the mountainous heights.
The utter treachery that so many seem not to see, for Allah and the breeze, Allah and the leaves are one and the same.
Allah and he are the same if only they would see and the trees give way to field where he stands under canopy of the heavens where it all falls away to infinty.
He laughs at the insanity.
He cries for the inhumanity.
He man sees the reality.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I KNOWING THEE AM NEVER ALONE)
THE SOUND OF WE SATIATED AND OF  WE EVENTUALLY RELIEVED...

My thoughts in this time of exile, they keep returning to you.
I so far away but oh so close for my fevered mind cannot conceive a moment without you.
It pulling you naked and bare from that place where my hard arises.
That place where I so want to suckle at your breast.
Where I so want to dine at your V.
I bending to smell of your pheromones and tasting of your seas am transfixed by the fact that a female warrior exists who while soft can be so hard.
I having heard you cry know that it comes from the same frustration that haunts me.
In the dark I try to ease your pain by making you wet, by making you squirt.
A moment as I take you to the fantastic land of fantasy where orgasm exists as the healing.
Where our voices excited are the song pounding at the door and echoing down the hall.
We animalistic as we release our collective beasts.
We fluidly intermingling and spraying our juices onto each others skin.
Where I flow into you and dribble out and run down your taint, I dripping from between your ass cheeks as cum.
You coating me as sticky and sweet.
The most fragrant honey ever produce as I wipe it from the hairs on my belly with my fingers put them to my lips and taste.
You my dear become my salvation
My exile becomes my strength.
I bow in honor to thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE FUNKIEST FUNK OF A MANS HEART}
THE SOUND AS THIS FUNK IS DROPPED...
http://youtu.be/a3c3Y7bGPqo

Cum into my life, I born cry into the nethersphere where surely you must exist.
Been needing you so much lately.
Shit is fucked up alone as I play these black and white keys.
As I drop this funk which is carved from the funkiest funk that sits unformed in my psyche.
It waiting to be transformed into a story or a poem.
It telling our story.
See... I been needing to hold you as the lights grow low and we dissolve into each other.... You in my cellular structure as I feel a shard of your D.N.A...
It piercing the walls of my heart and making me wince from the pain of being so lonesome in a world of so many who do not overstand.
See, its not like I don't have chances but whats the use of wasting my time if she is not the one that makes my pineal gland vibrate.
So many years where we could have been living a fantasy wasted on such things as vanity and living another persons dream.
The motherfucking Johnson's ain't got shit on me.
Bill Gates is just a man to me...
They can be cut.
They can bleed.
I wanting to show you the true beauty of this planet as was meant to be seen before mankind caused mass extinctions and waged unholy wars.
When there was the need and the need was so great that we depended on each other, supported each other and lay in each others arm for warmth and protection against all that came our way.
Back when we were Gods and Goddesses walking beside the almighty.
He telling us of our birth in the stars.
Of clay and the kiln where we carbon and water were intermingled and formed.
We looking into each others eyes and knowing that we were created for each other.
The first time I felt your skin.
The jolt... The tingle.
My need is great, cum into my life.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE MOST SAVAGE CONUNDRUM}
THE SOUND AS I CONTEMPLATE...
http://youtu.be/c8945jjwE2s

The difference my queen is that I would fight for you.
I would rip the blasphemous tongue from the heathens mouth that spoke against you and set it on fire.
Feed it to the vultures and make him or her watch as they hop over and tear it apart... Those vultures
I would fight the enemy in guerilla warfare, I draped in the knowledge of knowing that without you I am just a whisper on a solar wind... Here I am again...

Alone.
A mere fragment of my potential and I sit here reminiscing over what could have been had not you been hurt before...
Paying for what someone else had done to you.
My love for you still so strong that it makes my heart flutter at the mere mention of your name, I who would have died for you and your honor.
I who would fight the armies of the Pharoah and part theoretical seas, I who would stand with you in sickness and health...
Never have I raised my hands against thee queen, never have I stood and called you vile names yet here I am again...
Alone.
I a patron in an art gallery where your image graces the wall and flows in my imagination, larger than life itself.
Light falling on your form.
I perusing you, I needing you yet here I am again...
Alone.
My soul so shattered that I wonder if I will ever stand again, if I have the strength to put into trying to get a woman to see the difference again...
That I am not all men.
That to me you are the most precious gift that Allah gave man after he gave him his breath...
Here I am just a man who would pick you up and carry you across the wasteland.
Here I am...
Alone and so perplexed...
I would fight for you.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY