(OVER HERE)
THE SOUND...

Here we are spinning in place, stuck on the slick shit that we are standing in... Knee deep and stinking as it plays electronic and pumped in...
Here we are in the very same state, ignorance preached and teached to enslaved Africans.
Kente cloth covered and red, white and blued,  uncle Sam and Santa Claused.
Bones screaming attempted genocide from the bloodied ground of our persecution.
Babies coulda been doctors and scientists, babies coulda done touched the stars, babies coulda been but now they manifest thugs and hoes.
Damn shame.. they coulda been.
Blame the white man, blame the masons, blame yo mama and daddy, blame yoself for not picking up a book, for turning away from obvious wisdom.
Peace don't come free, freedom bleeds.
Here we are singing and celebrating, testifying and signifying, pimping and prophisizing.
Shoulda been realizing.
Shoulda been uniting.
Shoulda been, coulda been but they killed Sandra Bland, buried her in unstable sand.
Here we are... Deaf dumb and docile.
Dry bones... No skin.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

A look into your baby brown and the world erupts in glorious color.
Such a glorious display, your smile the backdrop as the day proceeds

{A WHIFF A DE SPLIFF} SEXUALLY

{A WHIFF A DE SPLIFF} SEXUALLY

THE SOUND OF THIS SWEETEST AGONY...

https://youtu.be/eyhRZqhKmKg

I smell you, a whiff of the spliff and I...
See I want to touch you...
I mean really touch you...
Get to the pink meat of the situation.
I want to savor your succulent taste... swish it around on my palette and linger in its bouquet.
I a connoisseur and you the delicacy.
A fine dining experience... Table spread and I.
See I wanna reflect on you even when I'm away... Another day... A day away and I...
I'm so fucked up that I make love to your smell... The images that I hold sexually explicit, wet and funky free, roaming in my psyche.
Wet and juicy fruit dangling in the trees so tempting... I plucking you down and raising you to my lips...
You trickle down my chin and sate my thirst... coconut water and I...

See I see you and I want to whisk you away... A fantasy where you beg of me to continue... A lick and you.

See you arch your back and push at my head... Please... Please and I...

See I keep going cause I know you wanna... You wanna cum... All on my tongue.

All this in a glance cause if I were to look to long I might explode... Soak the people surrounding us in cum... Virgins giving birth and I...

Smell you...

I... 

Smell...

You.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THOUGHTS MEMORIES AND REALITY)
THE MUSIC, LIST IN BECAUSE IT REALLY EMPHASIZES THE POINT...
https://youtu.be/UgAFcvIw8J4

And he remembering the touch of a woman is filled with remorse, the result of such a long hiatus.
So many years since he's held someone he loved... The memories of lingering kisses playing over and over in his mind like an old 45.
Each grainy note so essential to the essence of the sound... It pains his soul... These memories... He looking at the night sky contemplating the rest of his days... tomorrow or years away.
So alone and the cars driving by become the waves washing ashore... The lights become the promise of new future's... Twinkling somewhere out there... He would gladly reach out and grasp one of only it were within his power... He so tired mentally.
Once he asked Allah for love and it damn near tore him apart... Damn near ripped him from his foundations... Such a savage storm... deadly in its manifestation... Savage in its wrath... Beautiful in its calm.
They who would see it metaphorical... They who would see it factual... He allegorical alludes to it... He and Allah leaning over the rail of a deck...Backlit by a canopy of stars... A woman on his mind... Last of the cicadas playing symphony.
The voice of a woman playing stereo... The fleeing touch of her lips... He bound by the gravity wishing he could soar... He thinking these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A ONE... A TWO... A THREEEE)
THE BEAT...
https://youtu.be/Xx-WvaFdOuA

The day dawns... The sun as bass beats down into mans very bones... Feeds his melanated skin... Ahh, feels so good... The tree wakened raises its leaves... The lion stretches on the plane... The bovine stands from kneeling knee... Praise indeed to the most high.
Movement is melody... Child on the way to school... Mom with thick hips swaying beside, such divine beauty... Flowers for mans mind... Clouds of ganga smoke the background... So pungent the aroma... Quiet yet loud... Day such a beautiful panorama. Man enthralled.
Music so frantic as ant rushes by... Winter got to come... Colony got to feed... Circles of life played out in stringent tones... Slowed down sometimes like some phat ass jazz... Autotuned and chopped and screwed... So many songs would lead some to confusion... Victims of mass illusion.
Sun rising high in the sky... Beating down pon mans brow... Feet pounding rhythm... Got to go... Got to go... That's that rhythm... That's that sound...
Getdown.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{RISE ALMIGHTY KINGS}

 {RISE ALMIGHTY KINGS}
THE SOUND AS THE MIND FUNK IS PUMPED...
 https://youtu.be/Z0kR3A2CYAs


And he stands fully formed from the ashes. They swirling and twisting round his feet. Man newly arisen from the sleeping slumber. He is magnificent. The world stands in wonder. Tones of melanin in his skin.
There is thunder in the air for the heavens bear witness. Seraphim and Cherubim rank upon rank... Wings stretching beyond the sky. Man realized. The clouds heavy drip tears of joy which fall as sparkling diamonds in the celestial sunlight. Splatter in glistening sparkles.
He once born as black as the night. As black as the triple stages of darkness from which all knowledge came. Man visualized is he. Proud and free. Fuck equality. Fuck that reality. All that flawed visuality.
He is fist pump and bass bump... He is afro, dreads and bald head. He is father to his nations children. Knowledge attained and passed down. His trials and tribulations told again and again. His legend the wind. Once slave now master to his own destiny. Pride in his pose. Standing as oak... Reclining he is bonsai.
His enemy he knows well. Any who would stand against him and his kin. The dark, the medium and the light skinned, Bredren born of God's hand. Against him who can stand. Phenotypical and supreme. He.
So close and yet these words will go over so many heads. They will say that they read, they would bear false witness for the truth is only pages away. Comprehension such a savage entity. The beast manifests beautifully. Would have you be he in a warped democracy. Prisons, jails and detention facilities where men fester and rot. Knowledge lost. And here we are at the end where man bowing would bid you farewell.
This his sordid tale.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(GENESIS AND REVELATIONS) Inspired by Linda Jones
THE SOUND THAT ACCOMPANIES THESE WORDS...
https://youtu.be/nHfUULI_6UM

She... And I in amazement.
Her smile radiant... Oh earth light up my day.
She... My heart flutters.
Her words permeate my very being.
Her voice echoes in my deepest chambers.
She... I in awe stand.
Her form is that of one born African queen.
We formed of projects brick dust.
Royalty standing in the midst of chaos.
She... Mmmm.
The gentle brush of the painter.
The caressing hands of the sculptor.
Scientifically and mathematically impossible yet she is here.
We bound gravitational.
She... I in rotation.
Revolutions and revelations signs and cornerstones.
Living testimonials born of the first son and woman.
Trees standing stoic in the garden.
Metaphorical and metaphysical, living breathing proof of hue~man existence.
So biophysical.
She... And I.
I would smite the words uttered against her.
Cast them into utter oblivion.
Rip them into shreds flapping in the bitter winds of rebirth.
We regenerated and refreshed emerging from the storm.
Children of the most high.
Living and breathing replication formed in the image of the I am.
She... She and I.
We are.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY