(GOSSAMER THREADS)

Somewhere in a tortured psyche a woman's touch exists... A ghost of its former self.
It once held so much life... A man silent sit reminiscing it's demise.
The day it died... He wishing it could come back alive.
To the people passing by he is merely a man sitting on alone on a park bench.
His ghosts surrounding him are his alone... His face is set in solid stone.
His tears internalized flood the canaverous caves of his soul... He drowning in his loneliness... He trapped in the juxtaposition.
Surrounded he remains alone... The birds sing their song.
Somewhere he is in love... Another dimension perhaps. Another planet... Another reality where her touch greets him when he returns home.
In these thoughts he finds solace for all he has here are memories... Fleeting glimpses into his past where her touch was sometimes so soft... Sometimes so hard as they clung to each other in coitus...
All he has left are these memories.
Her touch has become a ghost.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

You give me goosebumps... Not of fear but anticipation.
I'll bet you get wetter... Your petals glistening as you spread for me.
My own little freak show... You such dainty fruit.
A moment as I savor thine image... A ravaged mind coming to terms with the explicitness of thou beauty.
In your presence I seem to have acquired x-ray vision... My sense of smell heightened I am lost in they wake.
I find my phallus hanging heavy... The eye crying tears as I contemplate what I would do unto you... What you would do unto me.
The sex so incredible as I touch you in your erotic places... The feel of your skin against my fingertips... You fill the panorama of my windowpanes.
I seeking to make you wetter... Your juices dripping off my elbows as I finger you... Dropping from the hairs of my beard as I lick of thee.
Your flavor overwhelming my taste buds and sending me careening... A spaceship in freefall as it enters your atmospheres.
🔥 in the very core of my planet... Water on my surface.
You my queen... I'll bet I could make you wetter.

(I COULD'VE LOVED YOU SO)

When I was a boy I saw love... I wanted it so.
A young prince so infatuated with visions of a princess... Castle superimposed against a blue sky, white clouds suspended puffy and white.
Love however eluded me, always just out of reach... Fevered dreams.
I a boy learning that love could be such a savage thing... Fingernails bitten to the quick... Heatbeats thumping in my chest.
When I was teenager love though close never wrapped me in its embrace... So many factors that the equation never added up.
I saw love as it touched others, softly caressing them as it beat me down... So hard to love when surrounded by bricks and concrete... By the reality of living in Babylon.
Love defined by the fact that I couldn't see Christianity or unsee visions of slavery.
Graffiti images of full lips and beautiful brown eyes drawn on project walls... I alone in the steel and glass jungle.
When I became a man love in a way had become my enemy... I a man unwilling to share even an iota of my pain.
What woman could overstand the depths of my darkness... Where I came from? Where I wanted to be?
A stranger walking among the masses... Sheep wearing the skin of humans... Surrounded by so many who worshipped and prayed at the temple materialism.
Internalized tears turning into boiling water that cooked my soul.
Love leaving me wanting and wondering... Why did love have to hurt me so?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THEY THEORETICALLY DISPOSED)

One day they fell from the sky... That proverbial motherfucker they... The biblical theoretical they.
They, will make a man tired of they monkey ass shit... Nasty bitch tis a scary bitch they... All the time throwing they in your face.
Fuck that they don't even know you... Them punk ass motherfuckers I dissertate pon they...
Snakin ass heathen they... Stankin pussy bitch they.
I will go straight ballistic on they... Buss cap in the ass of they... I don't care bout they... Who the fuck is they any motherfucking way?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

INTRODUCTION TO A SOCIOPATHS GUIDE TO HOMELESSNESS IN AMERICA.

Okay.
Time to come clean and expose what I was doing when I was off the grid.
For about 8 months I lived as a homeless panhandler. I didn't have to but I felt I was losing touch with the people I fight for everyday. The downtrodden. I played my role to perfection and found myself in some very interesting situations.
I was profiled by the police, called monkey, bum and even nigger by white people and black people. I met many good people too, black and dare I say white.
I also saw many acts of violence committed by the people I was amongst, I also saw many acts perpetrated against them.
I had guns pulled on me on two occasions and had to defend myself in a few occasions.
Usually threats worked but at times I had to fight.
One thing I can admit is I was never hungry because no matter what somebody is gonna feed you people will give you food faster than they will money. At times I had so much food that I had enough to share with others who shared my condition.
My dad Willie Lawrence Murphy taught me to never judge another man to hastily or to harshly and that served me well as I navigated the sometimes savage streets of Tallahassee where it seems racism played a part in every dealing I had each and every day with blacks and whites, Japanese, African and Christian preachers.
I saw things that made me laugh, made me scoff and a couple of times cry.
Believe it or not some of the people who helped me were Republicans and Trump supporters. A lot of the people who didn't were Democrats and voted for Obama and Hillary Clinton. In saying that I'm not endorsing either party or any candidate because it just shows that political affiliation has no bearing on a humans true nature, his or her heart
I have to let you in on a little secret though. I had a distinct advantage in my plight. I have studied psychology and sociology extensively and i am also very aware of body language, I can tell if you are lying, if you are defensive or amicable, if you are afraid and many other things by the way you stand, walk and talk. By the way you gesture.
Quite a few times I had the owners of establishments call the police on me, I have also had the police called on me by private citizens as well, black and white for simply standing or sitting in places.
I also learned that the old adage of all black men looking alike is very real. I was always being confused with another black panhandler who would curse and berate people who gave him nothing or what he felt was to little. No matter that I'm 5'9" and he's about 6'2" or that I'm lighter skinned and he's dark.
This is my introduction to this story that tries to delve into the reality of homelessness and what some of the causes are, as well as some of the things that the homeless and forgotten encounter on a day to day basis in this modern day Babylon where life ain't easily defined by black and white, on paper or by basis of skin
The reason I am calling this a Sociopaths Guide to Homelessness is because when most people hear the word sociopath they think serial killer but by definition a sociopath is basically a person who lacks empathy or does not have the ability to feel emotions on societies recognized norms.
This is really kind of a prerequisite of the successful homeless person and it also manifests itself in the unsuccessful homeless to a lesser degree. If someone were to ask me do I feel it's advantageous in a homeless person I would have to say yes.
So without any further ado I introduce to you my tale.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(FAJR)

(Relative)
Blade of grass so strong
Supporting the weight of the world
Man should remember

(Matters)
Trees so majestic
Arms outstretched to the heavens
Homage to Allah

(Discussions)
The birds sing his name
Cows rising from bended knee
These things would man see

(Reflecting)
Clouds panoramic
White against a blue backdrop
Sneeze becoming breeze

(Translucently)
Order and chaos
The eventuality
Ascension achieved

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DEFINITIVELY FEMININE, ON THREE)

Thou art the rhythm of a man's deepest being... The yin of his yang among other things.
Roses in bloom would bow to thy beauty as thou walkest by.
Bee's and butterflies would swarm and flock in thine wake.
Thou art the clouds as painted against the blue backdrop of Allah's sky.
The sweet smell of his rain as it falleth to his earth.
The cool soothing of a summers night.
Thine voice so reminiscent of the singing of magnificently colored birds alighting in the boughs of trees.
Man listening and falling to bended knee enraptured in the soliloquy.
Thy creation the all of human being, the thesis we.
In the end would we find our identity if only we let go of antiquated knowledge and notions.
Man so defined by his testosterone driven psychology.
He slave to visions of his superiority, God created in his image.
Thou art the reminder, if only man would overstand the key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY