(I HAVING KNOWN YOU)
THE SOUND...
https://www.youtube.com/shared?ci=xJ0VXqIPu9w

I hope you didn't think I forgot you across all this time.
I once fresh and young now battle scarred and bruised yet still alive.
You a beautiful thought crossing my mind when I alone waged war.
A moment of peace when all fell to pieces.
A flash of skin and a remembered scent that soothed the pain.
Color so vivid yet fading as my tears washed down my cheeks.
I holding you in the deepness of night in a jail cell.
A wet dream that saturated the sheets.
Your voice whispering into my ear.
I waking to find you unreal.
I holding onto you upon waking, begging you to stay.
Shield me from this reality.
How could I forget thee?
You have saved me from insanity and depravity...
From the pits of utter despair where so many go to rot.
They having given up on life.
I Dragon rising from my own ashes.
You the fuel that fanned my blazing fire.
Dancing in the flickering light that showed me the path.
How could I forget you?
Why would I want to?
You have given me life.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(MAMA AFRICA BLUES)
THE SOUND...
https://www.youtube.com/shared?ci=bFR2IViHCuk

Mama Africa calls her children's names and they turn deaf ear.
Still going by the massas name they would not hear.
Mama Africa cries blood tears as her children fall because of ignorance.
Knowledge in her soil that still dwells in her children's skin.
Father sun converted by melanin shines pon Mama's surface.
Life pulled from the very ground.
Mama's children denying her existence while roaming in Babylon, Sodom and Gomorrah.
Man pon man...
Woman pon woman committing genocide as the seed lies wasted in the field.
These day fortold in Deuteronomy, as the clergy preaching new testament commits great sin.
Ignores the prophecy for new age philosophy.
Mama Africa tormented to no end...
Father Sun growing hotter.
Fire and brimstone as the universe adversely affected reactes.
Man and earth no longer connected.
Babies born in confusion growing old before they have mature minds.
Women raised to not give a damn...
Men not giving a fuck.
Playgrounds lying unused as the programming is pumped in cellular and wifi.
Be abnormal, the message.
Mama Africa loosing life, hue-man and animal.
Knowledge becoming extinct.
What group is gonna challenge that?
What organization?
Mama Africa sobs and her breath becomes the hurricane roaring to Babylonian shores.
Whole cities fall to her wrath.
Why don't her children hear?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(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