(THEM MOTHERFUCKERS FIGHTING AGAIN)
THE SOUND OF CONSTANT STRUGGLE AND MOTHERFUCKING STRIFE...
X2uKJ8dRrvM

And here we are fighting over some useless shit once again.
Motherfuckers fighting over shit that's so plentiful.
Power figurative and literal.
Oil and land, drugs and fabricated shit.
Its all about pussy anyway.
Testosterone and estrogen.
Chemical imbalance and other scientific and medical terms.
People in the projects and street corners dying over pride..
People in Iran and Afghanistan dying over white pride.
Democracy my ass.
Trump ain't shit, the government ain't shit, all that idealistic shit.
Walking on my murdered ancestors bones.
Motherfuckers dying and it all sounds the same.
Folks and Lords falling to the killing grounds.
Black asphalt that never ends.
Religion built on white lies, and that don't mean that they are light.
Weight pressing us down.
Whipped minds and name brands on asses.
Fighting truth to uphold the blight.
That shit ain't right and I cover my head to avoid waking up.
Don't wanna go to sleep.
Fighting that shit.
Fighting that motherfucking shit.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{PARTICLES FORM THE WHOLE}

{PARTICLES FORM THE WHOLE}
THE SOUND... HEAVY HEAD DROP...
https://youtu.be/B9s2fq0Ycmg

We but particles of dust in a cosmic wind... Such a savage conundrum.
We exist in a tree as surely as the tree exists in we.
Canopy of stars laid out above our heads.
We the rising of the sun and the moon.
The waves washing ashore and depositing life.
Tidal waters of the hue-man soul.
High and low and the tears wash down in our souls.
The laughter is the light that dawns on planets orbiting far distant suns.
Maps in the spirals of our hair.
Nappy locks that would unlock the mysteries of the universe.
We the key buried in mortality and inevitable fate.
If only we saw our immortality.
A ship hurtling through the depths of space at many times light speed.
We standing at the dirty window and not seeing out.
We the father, the son and the holy ghost.
Twisted and distorted into being believers.
Cattle and sheep.
So unaware of the true power.
The whole totality of we.
Particles floating in such vast space where we could be the gods landing on other planets.
Overstand these thoughts projected across space and time.
If all these things die we do as well.
So much potential and we trapped by these inconsequential things.
We sleep on the reality.
Particles form the whole.
Particles form the hole.
\
JERALD HAMZZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{OF BURNING BUSHES AND NEWBORN PROPHETS}

{OF BURNING BUSHES AND NEWBORN PROPHETS}
THE SOUND...

As we stand from the still hot ashes of all the lies, our body covered in the soot of our beginnings, born under the very bad sign.
Red, white and blue and it waves in the breeze of Babylon.
We born of love... We born of hate.
A tattered back and facetious deceit the sordid tale.
We lion roaring in a concrete jungle where the hunted hunt the hunted.
Burnt so bad that the pain has become where we roam... Joy would bust our collective soul.
We would... We would fucking explode and cover the world in our wisdom.
It soaking blood red into melanated skin and being birthed time and time again from between the legs of queens.
Ejaculated violently from the head of penises.
We so hardcore that diamonds shattering would announce our arrival.
We beyond the sphere of where mere humanity finds it habitation.
Closed areas of the brain where sanity cowers in knowings shadow.
Dead places where the living go to hide from truth.
We covered in the ashes are death to systems which would exert such savage control.
We ghost walking among the supposedly living.
We witchdoctor prescribing the healing... We kings standing on suns throne... We queens merging with the sands of time.
Fire the destruction... Fire the cleansing.
We rising from the ashes would be these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CAN I HAVE A MOMENT) THE END GAME
THE MUSIC...

Would'st thou a queen be affected if I a mere hue-man complemented thee.
Talked to you of times past where thy beauty was so envied that women of other races tried to copy thou.
Talked to thee of modern times where women of other races still aspire to usurp thee from thine throne.
All the while thou running from thine supremacy.
I hue-man standing tall in the midst of masses of men shouting these words.
They drifting away on savage winds of slavery's hold, the manipulation of our minds.
We hating the very things which gave humanity its life.
Mine voice so hoarse, mine throat so sore, mine mind so tired.
I looking at thee natural and unnatural on the battlefield Babylon.
Thou still to me the most lovely thing Allah ever created on this fertile earth.
I hue-man roaming mentally unchained in a strange land where we fight for something we should be born with.
Freedom a word created to keep us caged, I am free, I born to be am free.
Would'st thou a queen be affected if I told thee that thou are the lock and I the key.
I hue-man torn asunder by the pressing weight of needed to speak to thee of these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF ROSE AND THORN IN THE DEAD OF WINTER)

(OF ROSE AND THORN IN THE DEAD OF WINTER)
PHOTO WAS TAKEN BY ME YESTERDAY...

In the dead of winter a rose bud grows
It alone among thorns
Such a harsh contrast, the beauty and the beast inhabiting the same area.
Sucking the same nutrients from the soil.
This rose so soft... This thorn so sharp.
Without one the other would have no purpose.
They together symbiotic show such diversity... The purpose of one the ensured survival of the other as it blooms soft and pink.
Such a delicately display as it opens to absorb of the sun.
It eliciting the sweetest odour.
The story sex carried at its core.
Cold wind blowing across its undulating petals.
The kiss of death which itself has a most fascinating story.
Rose falling daintily to the ground which gave it life.
Thorn holding on for it must guard the next one.
Spring will come.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{SPILL THAT SHIT}

{SPILL THAT SHIT}

THE SOUND OF FREEDOM...
https://youtu.be/mdwFG4Cgw_0

I ain't doing this be rich or to be considered for Illuminati...
I'm just a man trying to illuminate somebody.
Son of earth... Son of sunlight.
Born in a place of urban blight where my people inhabit just out of sight.
I ain't doing this to have sex with bitches and hoes...

I just a man trying to open does...

Son of a place called the projects...

Son birthed of a people called prophets.

Those who would be hidden in the pages of his-story...

Deemed to be less because of Manifest Destiny.

Victims of psychology and oppressive regimes...

Words of Allah carried to ridiculous extremes.

Stolen, changed and flipped into a ridiculous parody of truth...

The end result the awful proof.

What is a people to do when the cards are stacked...

When the game is over and the cards are racked.

Where do we go from here?

When all we got is a thinly veiled fear.

Rhyming poetry and brave ass rap lyrics...

We squeezing off metaphorical gun clicks.

We killing each other subliminal and physical...

We doing the most quite literal.

Such a savage situation...

We operating separated nation.

Willie Lynch buried deep in black psyches...

We the people praying on bended knees.

Forsaken because of bastardized beliefs...

We the people needing to be mentally released.
We the people needing to be...
We the people need to be Freed.


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF GROWN PEOPLE, BEASTS AND SOMETIMES FREAKY THANGS.) SOMETIMES

(OF GROWN PEOPLE, BEASTS AND SOMETIMES FREAKY THANGS.) SOMETIMES
THE MUSIC FOR THIS...

https://youtu.be/oXGtFr-CeYw

The Beast pauses... Pussy on the breeze.
He hunting smells it as he looks at she.
So small and his dick starts to rise.
I need her, the Beast thinks, he is vibrating inside.
Every corpuscle of his blood burns in anticipation.
His need fills the air and she feels it.
They make eye contact, she and the Beast and he encircles her in his aura, pulls her near.
She floating on his pheromones, he snarled up in hers.
The Beast does not speak of petty things, now is not the time.
He speaks of his need and she sensing the stringent urgency of his words is receptive.
Her urgency is pressing as well as the Beast touches her gently.
He whispers in her ear and she purrs from her full lips, the air static as they have sex in their minds.
He never knowing her and she never knowing her.
They fucking pineal as people pass by.
Two beasts unleashed as she and he walk to his domicile.
She entering and he so eloquently speaks of her beauty.
He would fuck her now but the Beast likes to be shown.

He lives to see.
He speaks to her in his beast voice,
it touching her core.
He wants to see and she slowly reveals her layers.
Her clit so profound.
The beast reaches out and rubs it a moment before kissing it.
She quivers.
Beast between her thighs as the room becomes filled with her sounds.
Beast's dick hanging so low and he stands.
She looks beast in his one eye and puts him in her warm mouth.
Oh my god! The Beast  marvels at her skill.
He begs of her to stop a second before he throws her back.
Enters her roughly.
Open those damn legs.
The Beast wanting her so badly pushes his dick to the deepest limits.
He loves her stretched eyes.
The screams of she.
He looks at her clit.
Pulls it out, spanks it with his head as she thrashes and grabs his dick, guides it back in, her beast needing satisfaction.
Such good pussy.
Such a big dick.
They so compatible on the field lust fuck noisily.
Those who would hear will.
Fuck them all.
Voices ringing out past walls and into night sky.
Flesh slapping flesh.
Scent heavy in the air.
Two beasts falling from the skies.
Two beasts fucking resplendent and shining.
The cosmos would sigh.
They cumming so very loud.
Beasts lying sated stand and walk away.
These being grown people things.
They return to their perceived lives.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY