(THE CURSE OF KNOWING) THE ADVENTURES OF THE LONESOME STRANGER.
THE BIOGRAPHY OF JERALD MURPHY

All I ever really wanted to do was tell my story. The things I'd seen. The injustices, the tragedies, the triumphs. When I was a child I started to read everyday, everything I could. Every book I could find no matter what, the dictionary, the encyclopedias, books on love, books on war, psychology, sociology, witchcraft, voodoo, transcendence.
I knew I was not Christian and would never be. I didn't know what I was but I knew I wasn't going to find what I was looking for in any church.
To much man mixed up in something that they were selling as pure.
By the time I was a teenager I was formidable in any situation. An anomaly in the project's I came from, able to make a motherfucker pick up a gun or put one down.
There wasn't a woman who could resist me if I wanted her. Divorced, separated single or married, at one time I kind of based my existence on that fact. It made me a hated man at a very early age. It also didn't help that I really didn't give a fuck, that I didn't care if I lived or died.
I think I was around 15 years old when the Empire Strikes Back hit the movie screen. I was hanging out with my crew from the projects and we scrapped up the money for one of us to get into the theater and open the back door for the rest of us to get in.
By the scene where Yoda raised the X Wing from the swamp my friends had decided that would be my nickname. I was kinda pissed off and I was like "I ain't no lil green motherfucker." My crew was like "You like Yoda cause you magic nigga. You be walking in places and fucking up white folks minds. You know everything."
I was blown. My name has been Yoda every since. If you ever go around people who actually know me and say Jerald Murphy they will ask you who the fuck that is.
I have done things that I'm not proud of till this day. Life sentence shit.
By the time I was 15 my mom used to always say if you call me I know you're in trouble cause I would disappear for long periods of time. Be in other cities and shit.
I was running drugs and had a run to Jacksonville every week as well as numerous drops in Tallahassee. Older dudes trusted me cause I grew up in the bars and alleys of Tallahassee, I had been around everything, kilos, hoes, murder and mayhem and I knew one thing, I ain't seen shit. At most times I had a girl around my age but I was fucking grown women for perks, clothes and money.
Even the older men I hung around knew of my reputation.
I was trusted in the nightclubs and even helped run one in Frenchtown, I was ordering thousands of dollars worth of liquor and beer by the time I was 16, paying the beer distributer in cash.
I was on top of the world, I was loved, I was hated. An inch away from the penitentiary and didn't give a fuck.

If you would like me to continue this story please let me know in the comments.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(FOR THE LOVE OF THE QUEENS)
DONETTA SUBMITTED THE WORD. MISOGYNY.

It seems as if in these times the African woman henceforth to be referred to as the black Queen, has become the sad victim of misogyny.
Her name drug through the mud and hung dirty and rotten off the branch of a metaphorical oak tree.
Black men standing around, some with their heads bowed in sorrow, some weeping tears that fall to the dirt below, a few gripping guns.
In the background are the ones who having been fully whitewashed have destroyed them from within, their white prizes hanging from their arms.
They living the lie, imagining that they fit in, all the while the reality is that they are tokens.
They hating the very loins that they came from, kicking and screaming from slavery and segregation, only a generation away.
The times they are a changing as the little black boys don't wanna be men, they in their fancy dresses and showing their drawers, looking like clowns and proud of it.
All these beautiful black Queens, all this black beauty
So sad the song as we fade into the mist.
We these victims of this self hate, would that it could be as vapor and dissipate.
The men standing at the aforementioned metaphorical tree turn to walk away, the ones with the guns begin to lay waste.
It's time for a new day.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A TALE OF KINGS, QUEENS AND THE BRUTALITY OF REALITY)
A COLLABORATION FEATURING LANA JOSEPH

L
I need no filter
I learned to stand while falling down
Always smiling just to get through
I learned early in life justice wasn’t blind it was bought
This is why I run thin lines with blank sheets
I actually enjoy walking out of boundaries
I am partial to walking streets with no chalk
outlining dead bodies and purple marks

J
What filter... I lost mine in these streets.
Strong like Cuban coffee I expel this verbology like linguistic Tai Chi.
Calming for a worried soul... I drop closed mentalities into a deep dark hole.
Where I come from shit wasn't easy, I the calming, I the Savage beast.
Existing in planes outside of mere human visibility, inter-dimensional, I the nigga who became a king.
Once just a cog I formally known as man became a walking God.
A moment of calm lingering in the garden... A figure superimposed on a park bench... Blood turning brown on a sidewalk the testimony to who and what we've become.

L
It is true my beloved brother and King…
family and friends are being snuffed away--- here today
Gone TODAY, not just gone tomorrow, that is not the reality
I sit here thinking about my dearly departed cousin
I planned to see him and my PA family soon
We got the tragic phone call late at night, cuz is dead
Shot 3 times through his closed door with lead
The tragedy is that he was murdered on the heels of my Grandfather
My gentle giant was given a lethal dose of morphine
These phenes don’t care about human beings
Money and greed is the evil poison ruling the world
this solar existence of mine continues to prove that my black is deadly
Way too many scenarios where our people are checkin’ outta here
I realize in life, we must stay focused...
FOCUSED...
cause life is not about hocus pocus

J
Such a sad thing to hear of your tragedies... The crushing weight of all these travesties.
This world so promising having become a killing floor... Splintered souls glittering... Sharpened shards penetrating so deeply.
My son having gone before me... My brother... Two young Queen's I met on my journey murdered savagely.
And here we are living to open our eyes another day... So much hope as the waking sun breaks through the majestic trees.
The smell of ozone after a thunderstorm... So much beauty in the midst of all this confusion and brutality... We the seed of life sprouting from this fertilizer ground.
Our ancestors the dust that we are created from... The air that we breathe.
So many who only see the material while missing what's tangible... Struck blind by those standing on pulpits selling insanity... Omnipotence but a thought away... If only we would part the veil... We harboring magic in every beat of our hearts... So afraid of who we really are as we embrace these false identities... Shadows of what we could have been... We these lost Lions living as fallen sheep... Our black skin covering our shame... It's enough to drive a Hue-man insane... Make a hue-woman shun her true name...
This hocus pocus such a crushing reality.

L
Thank you brother King for your acknowledgement of lost souls and for standing tall for me…
for us… for we… for all… for everyone who have not arrived where we are
in a spiritual realm of consciousness… one must remove the veil of the liars lair
Choices are given, yet some are indeed covering shame within our black skin
I work tirelessly doing my best to uplift our Kings and Queens to a higher level of self
Until we, the adults master love, and God and our god within power that raises souls for good
and not false pride that comes before the fall, I keep getting up with gratitude for being blessed another day to love on my family, eXtended family and true fierce friends...
Until we understand to differentiate between our Creator’s voice and the evil one’s...
many more lives will be swallowed up by steel weapons for mass destruction
Yes beloved King, our Ancestors planted the good seeds in us and left us blueprints
We can certainly follow those traits to help us refrain from mirrored illusions
They are indeed watching us all, as we stand tall in their shoes walking a thousand miles
Some to nowhere he or she is going fast; we must take the reigns willingly, carrying mindsets
FREE… free of negativity and toxicity… to lead... one must follow the great ancestral wisdoms
Until we, the adults fight to protect young brains from lethal doses of hate, crime and shame
it will be much more difficult... to eradicate our communities from incessant red rain.

Written by JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY and Lana Joseph.

(I AM ALL THESE THINGS)
AN ALTER EGO EXCURSION INTO THE BEING WE.

Jerald
Everytime I look at you I see infinity... The possibilities so limitless that I am found wandering in a void... Floating in nothingness and all.
I who have trod these streets alone... Lived through the good and the bad as one... All I wanted was to one day meet my queen... To look into her eyes.

The Beast
Everytime I see you I swear I smell your pussy... It's tantalizing aroma... Such a succinctly subtle thing... It making me want to rub my fingers against your clit... To feel your moistness... To lick it... See how it tastes.
I imagine you erupting into my mouth... I drinking of you... Standing up and kissing you... My hard and heavy dick rubbing against you belly... Between your legs.

Jerald
A moment as I compose myself... What could I say to you... How can I get you to overstand... Your are the most magnificent manifestation of woman I have ever seen... You have piqued my interest in ways no other could... I have smiled for you... Such a fragile thing this joy... Buried six feet deep in my blackened soul... The embers of loves fire having turned to cold ash... The rains washing them into the grains of sand... They becoming dust.

The Beast
A moment as I compose myself... Not to fast as I rub my head against your pussy lips... It trailing a sticky line of my pre-cum... Your juices having mingled with mine... I throwing you back on the bed... Spanking your clit with my dick head... So much noise... Is that me yelling?
I so caught up in the rapture... It's all so instinctual... I succumbing to my primal nature... Pushing your legs back I am caught up in this vision spread beneath me... The loveliness of your phat punani... Such a willing victim... A participant to my sexsanity... I cum atomically.

Jerald
So hard to look away... All these thoughts in such a small space... I so enamored that these words I wish would change your perception... Make you see the being me... A second away from my eventual evaporation... I would envision thee.

The Beast
We lying in the aftermath... Sheets tangled and breathing heavily... I your slave as surely as you are mine... I the Beast reach over and place my hand on your breast... Damn... You blow my mind.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CONSCRILILLA) A POETIC SENRYU CONFIGURATION

The clouds passing by are grey today... Tiny drips of water... The rain comes.

And I think of her
Hypothetical, so pure
She is but a dream

Another day of life... Of planning... Of getting it right or wrong.
In a distant future we are the ancient ones.

She is shining star
I a planet in orbit
Flowers smell so good

These lives so intricately entwined... The smallest microorganisms faded into extinction... Affecting the greatest things... If only... If only..

Sunrise she is gone
Eyes open I am alone
I awake man sigh

Each rotation brings us closer to the end... None knows the day or time... The inevitable outcome of all this hate and hostility... So many so focused on the material... Forgetting that it's all man-made bullshit and fragile systems of control...
That a tree dying in South America could cause planetary collapse... The way we see such a disease... We the cure... We the virus.

She lingering breeze
I close my eyes to see her
We subconsciously

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(AMERIKKKAN MENTALITY)

What is this Amerikkka to me... Been disenfranchised since I was made aware of my identity.
Cursed because of my black skin... I always saw this shit from a distance see?
Saw smoking crack bust my homeboy heart... Died on the corner where he got high... Nicknamed him One Time.
Saw my homeboy from Basin St get shot... Spinning into death like a ballerina... Saw his mama cry.
Took a 45 dead to the chest... To young to be laid to rest.
My big brother drank himself to to his grave... I miss my big brother more everyday... Guess this shit was just too much for him.
Done been locked up facing three life sentences... Took it to trial and beat them charges... White prosecutor ain't even shake my hand... Looked at me turned purple and ran.
See I grew up in the bricks and concrete where life is suspect... I the pure product of a government project gone astray... Paid attention at a very early age.
White Jesus ain't never appealed to me... One ain't never equaled three... This fool standing on a pulpit slanging insanity... Begging for my money... Begging for my soul.
Caint have none of that... I'm already living in hell.
Racism used so subtly that it's become the standard... To speak of it the crime... Designations and heightened time... Courtrooms stacked against we, public schools losing teachers see... White man still got the mob mentality.
Amerikkka... Thats what it means to me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(ANGELS DONT CRY... SO DRY YOUR EYES) A ONE WORD SUBMISSION SCRIBE

Such a sweet epiphany... This world, these lives.
Symphonic tones on a celestial harp... Angels singing in heavenly choirs.
These luscious images ripped from the cosmic all... Mamihlapinatapai... If only she could see as me... As I see.
Our existence infinitesimal if only we continued the ways of old.
Father as son as grandson, so on and so forth... Into the continuum.
Yet here we are... So many fascinated by the bling...
Bedazzled and confused by the nefarious ones.
They having become abomination... the self absorbed ones foretold of in holy scrolls.
One looking in from without would probably ponder these things... One looking out from within would cringe in horror at the hypocrisy.
The passionate way they sell these beings this desolation... Preachers and pimps dancing in adulation.
It seems the only ones who truly see exist in the state  apostasy... This could been such a lovely journey.
Instead it's become such an awful tragedy.
All these worlds... All these lives.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

REE: BLING
LATOYA: SWEET, LUSCIOUS
MUSTAFA: ABOMINATION
TIONNE: EPIPHANY
DONNETA: INFINITESIMAL
CHARLES: APOSTASY
ROBERT: NEFARIOUS
JUSTIFIED: PASSIONATE
GWEN: Mamihlapinatapai