(FUZZY FRUIT DIVERSION)
THE FUZZY FRUIT SOUND...
https://youtu.be/Yhba-s_T7pw

And of your fuzzy fruit wouldst I a man diverge...
The taste, the texture, the pleasure.
I suspended and perusing the beauty that you naked  displayeth unto I... A sigh as deeply breathing inhaleth thy scent...
It exploding in vivid colors on the plains of my pineals where I would lay you out and plunder thee in various ways.
Make you sing that sweet harmony that vibrates the skin of my eardrums...
Marketh I fall yo my knees and lap at the font of your maidenhood.
I who would drink of thy elixir.
I who would play with thy button...
That clit.
I who would blendeth old and new in a sexual diversion that would causeth thy to produce the fruit that would bear the seed that would grow roots...
Become the branches and leaves of the kingdom trees that would throw shade across the black diaspora...
That would throw shade on the lies and hypocrisy...
I tasting of your fuzzy fruit find myself transported across time, space and continuum...
Mmmmm.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(I A MAN SPEAKING OF SHE... SEEN?) DEDICATED TO SHERINA
THE SOUND OF I A MAN'S HEARTBEATS... SEEN?
https://youtu.be/9E9T0PhwCoY

Looking into her eyes I see I finity, the promise of rain on parched surfaces of I epidermical... seen?
Lips so full that I thirsty would slurp of them as plum... seen?
She so full of diversions that I artist would draw portraits with various means... The pen, the pencil and charcoal.
The palette splashed with color as I Picasso would paint her masterpiece.
The curves of her curves becoming...seen?
As subject of the story she would be told to the people time and time again, made into plays and immortalized on movie screens.
A chick flick that men would watch secretly curled up with popcorn... seen?
She the deep sighs as the strokes become form and take on life and breathe... seen?
The breakdown and the breakbeat as people gyrate frantically on the dance floor.
The music played as I warrior would walk onto the battlefield and confront the demons who would besmirch our ancestors memories...
Who would plot our demise as a race... seen?
I the conductor as she plays symphonic on I a man's heartstrings...
A wing of art in a museum in 4017 is she... seen?
Looking at her lovely nose I see these things as I a man speak artistically of she... seen?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WE ALPHA AND OMEGA RISE)
THE SOUND OF ROOTS NATTY DIGGING DEEP...
https://youtu.be/UwpaUF4idWY

We embrace pineally on planes beyond these meager existences, these fragile shells that we inhabit.
We have lived since the first African man awoke to find you by his side.
He looking at your form and growing hard, you needing protection for you would  bear the fruit of his seed.
Without you he would cease to be, the loss of you his finality.
We symbiotic stand torn apart, a result of burned libraries and enslaved villagers.
We have survived the worst existence possible, the worst ignorance imaginable, we ignored and verified.
You feeding he and her at your breast while mammy raised our children, taught them to be the best lil niggas they could.
Red, white and blue in the background.
Stars and bars as rappers find ghetto fame at the end of prison sentences.
He now hard for another man cause homies apparently matter more than bitches, jeans dropped low in invitation.
She no longer needs a man cause strap ons never get soft, a woman knows what turns a woman on and so on.
We watch the babies grow and get cut down like weeds in the garden, flowers ignored and trampled under conventional wisdom.
The system playing such a sweet melody backed by the most devastating bass and pumped surround sound into living rooms and onto laptop screens.
Passed off as democracy.
We Sun and Earth, We Iris and Osirus, We Alpha and Omega.
We sigh.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WILDER DAN AN EXCITED CHIMPANZEE)

(WILDER DAN AN EXCITED CHIMPANZEE)
THE SOUND IN THE BACKGROUND...
https://youtu.be/OuyDmsIbqaI

Show me that monkey...
The one nestled between your legs.
Lay back and throw them wide.
Make my dick throb.
I need to see... I need to fuck.
Pull your legs back as far as they go and stroke that clit... Get them fingers wet.
Oh my fucking goodness.
I want to fuck your brains into a convoluted soup.
Suck your titties and swizzle that clit.
Dick hanging half way down my thigh and slobbering precum.
Pussy so phat and juicy.
Rub that pussy and talk dirty to me.
Such a phat nasty apparition... The incubus that scrambles my thoughts.
I love you nasty and talking like that.
Asking me if I want that kat...
Yeasss!
Bend on over and touch those toes... Lay yo fingers flat on the flo... I as Deadwood Dick hollering Yeee Hawww!!! Riding you doggystyle... Putting my pole all the way to your back wall and extracting it swole and slick.
Your wetness on my rigid dick.
Fuck the neighbors I got to talk to that pretty pussy loud...
Betty get some earplugs or turn the Tv up loud cause I'm gonna thump the pussy floor... Meltdown the pussy core...
Lay back and show me that phat, pretty, pink pussy meat...
Titties flat from gravity, eyes clouded in lust.
That shit...
That shit drives me wild.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE LONESOME MAN AND A BRIGHT SUNNY DAY)

(THE LONESOME MAN AND A BRIGHT SUNNY DAY)
THE SOUND AS WE THE AUDIENCE WATCH THE SCENE UNFOLD...
https://youtu.be/hd9dqYTddR4

Most people walk by the lonely man and don't even notice him.
To those who do he is but a momentary glance...
He dwells in the most unexpected place.
The lonely man does.
All these people and here he is still lonesome.
A prisoner in a dangling birdcage perched over a precarious precipice.
His thoughts are interrupted by a man who walks up and speaks to the shell of the lonely man and his shell act accordingly.
His shell and the man grasp hands and bump shoulders.
The lonesome man looking through the eyes of his shell sees these things and sighs...
Would that these beings could fathom his depths, submerge themselves into the inky darkness of his deepest trenches where light is swallowed to feed the inky blackness.
The lonely man living in an outer shell that is so well known.
The lonely man contemplates these things.
How could they not see?
He introspective asks himself this question.
A woman passes by and the lonesome man looks at her lines and smells her bouquet.
So delicate and he as connoisseur swirls her around and sips of she.
She is sweet on his synapses and delicate to his pineal but could she bear the brunt of his burden... The weight of his task?
She looking at his outer shell sways her hips a little more and speaks rather softly, her voice as silken as the down on a baby bird.
His shell speaks back and she stops.
His shell and she converse and she gives his shell a number.
It is placed in pocket but lonely man knows.
She cannot bear the magnitude of he.
He watches her phat behind as she walks away.
The promise of something to quench his lust for love.
He sits on the bench and leans back.
People walking by see his shell but not he.
He is the lonesome man.
His shell protects him from society.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(RED CLAY AND SHADE)
THE SOUND WAS PICKED BY DONETTA RHODES...
https://youtu.be/xJIPn_20lxE

You remind me of wayyy back...
Barefeet and red clay.
You remind me of my birth to a Melanic queen and a African king...
Pomegranates and pecans...
Tadpoles and snails and shit.
I birthed in Frog Hole...
Back alleys and drunk folk...
Barber shops and beauty parlors...
I in wonder beholding.
You remind me of our growth... Our potential and I don't wanna let go...
Can't let go...
Each revolution a question, an answer.
You remind me that I gotta, gotta keep livin.
Just anotha day so I can hear your voice.
I such a weary traveler as I know you are.
Stratospheric challenges and dropped down lows...
Angelic rises.
Glinting glass and high rises...
An old brick church with a steeple to the sky.
The bells toll.
I would hold you, I would hold you, I would hold you..
And I don't wanna let go. Nooo.
You remind me that there once might have been perfect love...
That there might be heaven on earth.
You such a part of me...
You remind me of we, born of African clay.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{THE BOOT NOCKA}

{THE BOOT NOCKA}
THE SOUND OF BOOTS KNOCKIN...
https://youtu.be/3LnsrLmqHe0

I want to taste you so bad...
Suck you till you blast an orgasm in my mouth... Screaming and writhing.
I want to lick the corners of your intensity and linger in the crevasses of your identity defined sexually.
Take you to the mountain top and give you an exhilarating ride down...
Drop you stomach in yo feet and spank yo pink meat...
Sorry I'm so rude and crude as I eloquently speak...
But baby yo pussy belongeth unto I the savage beast...
Would you for a minute tasteth of mine meat?
Let me lay you down so that I can dine at he table of thy bounty...
A freak, a treat, an esquisite experience indeed...
You mons veneris pouting so succulently... My phallus standing so swollen at the sight of you thus exposed unto I.
I see you with my forth eye, Lust, love and the promise of some relief as we explosively release liquidly.
Spank that ass and pull it back... that arch, that arch, I thusly swept along fall into the throes of the little death where I catch you waiting...
We having crossed dimensions... Seen?
Kisses pon thy sated flesh as we retreat to the land of satisfied sleep...
I shall dream of thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY