FROM HEAVEN FORMED

Where once we fell as stars upon an incomplete earth.

We these melanated denizens of a world promised us in the most ancient times.

Where now we roam, niggas, bitches and hoes struggling to survive the savage onslaught.

Still segregated, still denigrated, still miseducated, our lives the wood feeding the fire.

Memorials erected to the fallen ones, as so many continue to fail.

Mine tears could fill oceans,tsunami in nature they would wash ashore and destroy modern day Babylon.

The bad so far outweighing the good. Pain filled dreams awaking the sleeping slumber of modern man.

A stranger n these strange times where our race has been manipulated into causing our own fall.

Separated and eviscerated we cross the killing floor unaided, the ancestors blood the harmony and the melody, the bass, pounding pounding. 

The sound of mama Africa crying, her wails the wind passing mans ears.

So sad the song.

We these stars having fell from the heavens lying smoldering on the ground.

Carbon and water make clay.

Carbon and water make melanin. 

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

A RIPPLE IN THE CONTINUUM 

And Babylon shall fall... an event caused by her own hand.

White houses and stolen obelisks testifying to the savagery.

Statue falling into the waters that have witnessed so many tragedies, rape on the high seas, bones of mine ancestors glistening in ocean sand.

Ships upon horizon

The lion sleeps lazily

Such is the dawning

We my people shall rise from the ashes.

The Dragon and the Phoenix as portrayed in myths... wisdom personified.

Voices shattering mentalities as we in unison sing.

You in I versal

What of the lost ones

So swept up in masters lies

Religious and blind

Beast of ten horns standing on podiums using recitations to vindicate travesties. 

White Jesus smiling in the background backing up the madness.

Strange that so many still believe. 

Such a pack of lies.

A baby born 

Ripped from the continuum 

Time for things to change

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

METAPHYSICALLY

I am the air, I am the bird, I am sun born of man and woman.

I created was born free in a place called my mind, there is none as I and I. 

The trees that bow on winds caress call my name for I am child of the cosmos birthed of carbon and water.

Forged of fire I am harder than diamond as I shine.

My DNA linked to everything I am planetary,  I am the lion, I am the bee.

In mine loins I am sun who carried the seed to perpetuate my line into infinity, light shining in distant galaxies, this babe in mine arms my future being.

Such an intricate symphony as played across eons, seen?

I such a devastatingly delightful  trilogy, grandfather, sun and son.

Allusions to religiosity resounding spatially, stereo the sound reverberating and resounding. 

These things reminding me that I once a slave in an ancestors testes, a slaves in my great grand mother's ovaries am now the end result.

I who have become freedom speak of these things. 

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Here I am all in your synapses.

Massaging your neurons.

All off in your cerebral cortex and... And all I wanna say is.

I love yo freak... I mean the way you so sexualy unique... That magnifiq.

Just the right amount a juicy and I... I just be fucked up in you.

These words, this weave and homage to the being you.

Okay so it's election day. Once again black people in Amerikkka are voting for the comfortable candidate. 

Not the one who has their best interests at heart. One who cares.

It's really about time we changed the narrative and submitted our own candidate. About time we formed a black party, so to speak.

We are the most underrepresented in this country and it seems many of us are content with that. That's not kosher cause it has lead to our collective current situation. One where we are but tools for the system. Cogs in the machine. Integral but underrated.

It's time that we overstood the true power of money. How it plays such an important part in any quest for any potential true equality. What boycotting really means. Sit ins are cool but that's sheep thinking, protests and riots, to much bloodshed on our part. Boycott, I know y'all get scared when you hear that word having become so dependent on this system. On these people who are still thriving on the labor of your ancestors.

To be blunt, that's slave thinking to me and I would like to think we're quite past that.

Aren't we?

Jerald hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(MICRO EXPLORATIONS IN SEXUALITY)

So succulent and I would taste of you... Lap at the font of thine existence, our existence.

Bring forth thy waters flowing freely across my lips, my tongue and trolling into my beard.

Such sweet ambrosia that my manhood threatens to burst it's fleshy sheath... Volcanic pulsations preluding the eruption.

I the putty of creation in thine hands, I the spark, the big bang.

Thermonuclear reactions as we interact, sweat glistening pon our skin.

I tasting of your juices, you tasting of mine.

Golden ambrosia as mine aforementioned beard glistens in soft light.

As I part thy thighs and descend into thine depths.

I in freefall, a man entranced, lost in your widened eyes.

Kissing thy hardened nipples as my body doth quiver.

Pressure building from within, the release doth devastate mine beginnings, mine ends.

This the little death, I a willing participant falling away, awayyy.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com MURPHY

(OF LOVE AND WAR)

And of love I would say, Tis a beautiful notion as I turn and walk away.

Love beating in every footfall that I make. 

My ❤️ torn away and having been rebuilt... Cybernetic and synthetic, made of this flesh, this blood.

Such is love which can never be forced, like volcano as it erupts.

Flower petals in the air coloring the scene unfolding.

Such a beautiful panorama to behold.

Love abundant in every fiber of I a man's being, it running rampant on the floor of I a man core.

We once such committed befriends, we once bitter enemies, love clouding I man vision.

180 and acrid is the taste that flows across I man taste buds, I man curled in fetal positions, left to contemplate in the depths of mine cave.

360 and the 🌞 rising, oh so bright, the return of I man sight as the birds they sing, such a poignant song, seen?

Love the companion as I man cross these deserts, as I man bend to sip from mountain stream, love cold and invigorating as it replenishes these degrees.

Leaves I man standing erect on the square, Lion in the jungle called these streets, I man who would be King 👑.

Love thrown into the forge and hardened, sharpened to a razor edge point, love glinting in the ultraviolet rays as it evicerating slices through the air.

Here I stand warrior reborn.

JERALD hamzahfaruq.jm@gmail.com Murphy