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Tuesday, November 17, 2015

{THE ENEMY AND THE WISE FOOL} A SHORT AND COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS OF WHAT AILS THE AFRICAN IN TODAY'S SOCIETY...


 {THE ENEMY AND THE WISE FOOL} A SHORT AND COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS OF WHAT AILS THE AFRICAN IN TODAY'S SOCIETY...



We the former denizens of Africa seem to have so many problems with recognizing our true enemy. The one right under our noses. Since our forced introduction into western colonization we have been programmed and bred to pass along certain traits and traditions that keep us lagging economically and socially. The enemy recognizing the depth of the conditioning uses it at all times to keep the African people fighting and at each others throats.
The conditioning is so rooted that a black person will lay down their life to go and fight for the enemy, they will do so in the name of democracy even when its clear that the way they are treated is not democratically. They will praise the enemy and even use his image to portray their god because this is what they were taught to do. Not because its right but because its all that they know. They will not read anything but what the enemy has ordained pure, even when it's clear its not.
They will clean for the enemy, cook for the enemy and arrest their own kind for the enemy even when it apparent that the enemies system is the biggest part of their condition,
In many ways the African people have become their own worst enemy.
This kind of thinking is contrary to self preservation but the African people are so lost that they will not listen to an African that makes sense unless he or she is endorsed by the enemy. He will overlook scientific fact as well as archaeological proof unless it is authorized by the enemy. He will kill his brother, his son or his neighbor to protect these lies, he uses them to justify his distorted beliefs because in many ways he is so afraid of himself or herself becoming free.
He has been trained this way over a period of 500 years and more and from the way the situation looks it will take him this long to break the cycle. So sad that it looks like he will not survive to see it given the death and incarceration of young black males raised under this system of ideology. At the rate that things are going he will be bred out further through interracial relationships and homosexuality which are being pushed heavily in our communities through aggressive ad campaigns which belittle the black woman and man and make them seem unsuitable to each other, which make them see African traits as undesirable.
If this trend continues there will be no African race to talk about within 100 years.
The only way that this situation can and will be reversed is through education and resistance as far as the enemy is concerned.
Teach the youth the truth because the adults seem to be to fearful to listen and try something new, Especially since the old has clearly not gotten us anywhere.
Now these are my views and I am sure that there is some preacher or teacher or charlatan out there somewhere who will dispute and refute them, but if you look carefully you will see that every point I made is true to fact.
The proof is you and the African next to you.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ALL OVER HERE)


(ALL OVER HERE)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS MUSE...
Here I am lost in these thoughts of you, semi hard and perusing you naked in my mind.
My mouth watering cause I'm so hungry....
Just a taste.
Here I am wanting to touch my raging hard on to your lips... upper and nether regions.
To feel your slick and fluid wet.
Here I am feeling like I could beat it till you lie back and sigh.
Punani jumping and thumping.
Rubbing my cum into your skin, satisfaction carved on your face.
I contemplating your lines... Manhood wet on my thigh, semi hard and reflecting the friction.
Such pleasant memories of a short time ago.
Rubbing your belly as I talk to you...
Hypnotic and biologic.
Smelling of the sex that lingers in the air.
Here I am needing you so, been so damn long... Been so damn long.
Fire roaring in my veins... lava threatening to erupt explosively.
Cover the landscape in our cream.
Here I am...
Where are you?
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

(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

Monday, November 9, 2015

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

Friday, November 6, 2015

{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

Thursday, November 5, 2015

(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

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

(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