(Fallen) A Senryu 

Waking

The sun rises bright

We resplendent in its light

Glorious the sight

Church

The trees testify

Branches reach to the heavens

We born surely die

Naturally 

Seasonal are we

Winter, summer, spring and fall

The ebb and the flow

Shining

Star falling to earth reborn

Man and woman are we birthed

When did we forget 

Bright

Moon luminescent

The day so vibrant is gone

This, the way of things

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

A Speck Of Enlightenment.

Stepped of the porch round the age of 12... Hard to think bout heaven cause home was a living hell.

Sometimes grits was all we had for fuckin dinner... Black men standing by a burning barrel in the dead of winter, hard ass times in the middle of December.

Over time shit done changed... been rearranged... Some shit done stayed the same , it will drive lesser motherfuckers insane.

It's real out here on the battlefield... Motherfucker surviving if only on sheer will... Devastating the deadly form of this evisceratingly scintillating skill.

So many fallen by the way, bones left to disintegrate, altering into other states.

Dust floating on a serene breeze, a cough a sneeze, poetic this disease that encapsulates we.

Babies born knowing things instinctively, plugged in and trained cerebrally.

Such harrowing times, such poignant rhymes, fruit don't fall to far from the vine.

Take a whiff a da spliff, such an invigorating lift, a moment of sanity in the rift.

Man living in a subconscious shell, surrounded by heaven and yet dwelling in hell, such a sorrowfully sad and sordid tale.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Delicately.

Such a sweet thing, dancing in mine mind... And I.

Whew.. I am swept along on memories of you.

Such images that I black man blush in mine soul.

I feel you in my corpuscles, my fragmentation on a nuclear level.

I would live with you, I would die for you.

Mine beginning and mine end.

Your curves the sculpture, your lines the map to mine born.

I sunken to this state and drowning in it's embrace.

I amniotic.

Look into my eyes if you think I'm playing. Feel me?

I melting into the fabric you, spiderweb weave.

I in your nature, I in you.

This is where should be.

Feel me?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Woe The Beast, Woe The Lamb.

As we travel through the jungle life shit ain't always gone be easy.

Everybody ain't yo friend, children gone die.and motherfuckerrs gone lie.

People sipping the drug ambrosia, crack, molly and Percocet, a bottle of Hennessy.

Dancing round the fire high as on perimeter beast abounds.

Shit so gritty it makes a grating sound as the sandman shuffles around.

Flames racing pon man synapses, flashes of light falling dappled by the leaves.

Haters snarling encircle we, lurking in the shade, camouflaged and hidden, might be your best friend, might be your cousin.

The path while clean may not always be easy to see, gotta stay on the yellow line if you wanna survive seen? 

Physically and mentally seen?

Piles of bones reminding we, that motherfucker got eaten by the machine.

This jungle life can be pretty but in reality life the jungle needs the beast, he keeping the game fair for the deaf, dumb and blind, Seen?

WORLD SO COLD (IT FREEZES IN HELL ALSO)

Cold are these days as they pass unabated.

Temperature so hot in a cold cold world.

Man in a lab preparing the next scourge.

Disease, drugs and money the curse.

Babies taught to worship material things.

Religiosity preached as spirituality as Allahs angels cry tears from the clouds.

So much potential crushed right from birth.

Only a step removed from worshipping the beast.

Man and his mate on bended knee.

Tricked into believing that marriage hinges on a ring.

Houses built on the sand crumbling to dust generational.

From infant to teen, adult to old man.

Black hair turning to grey.

Still haven't realized a damn thing as ideologies create Idiocracy.

As wisdom misperceived creates this new disease.

These days so cold find man homeless on a plain in the midst of plenty.

Would that man could see, would that man could be.

Infinitely.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

THE CURSE... THE BLESSING... THE NEED AND THE WANT.

I spoke into existence rose from the ashes.

The charred remains of my ancestors falling from my frame.

I the quintessential black man born of need not want.

So many who would confuse the two, so many confused by those in the pew.

Needs not wants, Jesus didn't drive a Cadillac or wear Jordans, not even the equivalent.

The ashes umbilical falling from my infant frame, 

Voices calling my true name and I born screamed at the heavens.

Why must I see these things, why must I see this way.

Love such a fleeting thing, my tears turning into dust as the fall.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I born speak of these things.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(HUNG LOW)

The  beat pounding at my temples, points of impact imminent,  I a walking talking representation of the most high, a relatively nice guy.
A one man army capable of toppling whole systems, this my soul the trigger,  go figure as Allah guide I.
This language I speak, sometimes  legalese, at other times these streets, systems would crumble to death at these feet.
I a madman on these black and white keys, a veritable symphony as I emphatically type psychopathically,  these tomes who I be as as I ascend gracefully,  winged angels soaring in mine skies.
Fear but an emotion to be trodden down, found these days on my battleground as I beat drop subsonically, my people once slaves freed, I son seed  would fill thy needs if only thy would heed.
Child born of the heart of a fallen star, carbon, water and who thou art, would that I could impart.
This the beat that fantastically forms the being me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY