WE EXIST...

 THE MUSIC FOR THIS INTERLUDE...

http://youtu.be/VTAN6-CBNXs

THAT POETRY THAT FLOWS IN YOU AND AROUND YOU PERVADES MY ORIGINALITY AND CAUSES REACTIONS THAT FORM INTERCELLULAR SYSTEMS THAT REVOLVE IN CAVERNS OF A MANS SOUL. WHERE SANITY AND INSANITY WALK THE ROADS TOGETHER, FOR TRUTH IS THAT ILLUSION THAT REMAINS SO REAL IN THE VIEW OF MEN.

RAW AND BITTER ARE THE ROADS THAT WE SOMETIMES TRAVEL. AS LOVE IS THE CATALYST FOR WAR AND PEACE AS WE DWELL ON THIS ORB THAT ROTATES IN SPACE.

ALPHA AND OMEGA IN THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS IN OUR VEINS.

THE HERBS THAT SPICE THIS DISH ARE ELICITED FROM THE PORES THAT COVER THY SKIN. A PERFECTLY FLAVORED DISH THAT PIQUES MY INTEREST AND CAUSES I TO WANT TO FLY...ON THE WINGS OF THE ANGELS THAT SPEAK OF LOVE IN WHISPERED TONES IN THE HALLS OF... ALLAH.

CLOUDS THAT CARRESS THE GREY OF MATTER THAT MAKES UP THIS MIND. PINEALY I SEE THEE...THEE I SEE PINEALY...WAS FLIPPING WORDS LIKE THESE IN THE WOMB BEFORE I ENTERED ONTO THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE. AS A QUEEN CARRIED ME... AS YOU A QUEEN CARRY ME.

 FLOW LIKE THAT DONT COME CHEAP AS THE ENEMY CROUCHES AT THE GATES THAT REMAIN LOCKED IN A TORTURED MIND...FINGERS OF THE LETTERS OF THINE THAT CARRESS MY SCALP...DEEPER THAN THE DARKNESS OF TRIPLE LEVELS. FOR THAT IS WHERE THE KNOWLEDGE DWELLS. FOR LIGHT AND DARKNESS FORM FROM THE SAME ENTITY

RHYMES THAT ARE A RAM BATTERING AT THE WALLS OF SYSTEMS OF OPPRESSION THAT LINGER IN PSYCHES THAT CANNOT SEE. WHERE THE GHOSTS OF THOSE THAT FOUGHT AGAINST SLAVERY ROLL IN UNMARKED GRAVES AS THE STORY OF THEY SEEMS TO FADE AWAY...

                   AND

BROKEN...            DISJOINTED...

                 

AND WHO ARE THEY... TO STAND IN OPPOSITION TO WE? THE END BY PRODUCT OF SLAVERY, AGGRESSION AND FUNKY ASS PIGS FEET. AS A GIRL LAY ON HER BACK IN THE DUST AND HER CHILD WAS RIPPED FROM SHE... TO BE SOLD IN A MARKET OF SOULS.

I AM YOUR REFLECTION AND YOU ARE MINE IN THE MIRROR OF THESE LIVES THAT ARE REFLECTIONS OF THE GLORY OF WHO WE ARE SUPPOSSED TO BE...AND I HAVE TO SCREAM THE WAY I DO... TO ROAR AT THE ATROCITIES. ANGUISH THAT HAS THE FORCE OF CREATION.

WHISPER AFRICA

THIS IS THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3wx9X_27xE

DAYS LOST IN AFRICAN DREAMS.

I CAN FEEL THE EARTH BEAT...

PULSATING IN MY CORE.

SHE GYRATES IN SHIMMERING SPLENDOR...

THE ELEPHANTS TRUMPET...

ANNOUNCMENTS ACROSS THE MILES...

THE BIRTH OF THE WORLDS.

SPINNING ON THIS PLANET...

AS HER SKIN REFLECTS THE SHINE INTO THE SKY.

I A KING...

STRIDING AND SURVIVING ...

IN A MADMANS SCHEME.

LOOK PON YON TREE...

THE ROOTS ARE HER WOMB.

A CONTINENT AWAY...

ON A GIGANTIC ISLAND IN THE SEA...

A SON REMEMBERS.

DAYS LOST IN AFRICAN DREAMS.

ART THOU? [THIS MUSE]

THIS IS THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVfQBIAHGNg

THOU APPEAREST IN MINE VISION A MOST SEDUCTIVE APPARATION...FROM WHENCE DIDST THOU COME TO FEED THE STARVING LOVE OF THIS BARD...THIS TELLER OF TALES...THIS WANDERING SOUL?

ART THOU AN ANGEL SENT FROM THE LEVELS OF HEAVEN TO QUIET THE DEMONS OF THIS LIFE THAT SCRATCH AND SNARL...THREATNING TO STEAL MY SANITY AWAY...MY INSANITY PRESSES AT THE WINDOWPANE OF MY BEING.

YOUR VOICE HAUNTS MINE THOUGHTS ON THIS COLD WINTER NIGHT...AS CLEAR AS THE BELLS OF A CHURCH IN A VILLAGE...AS CLEAR AS THE VOICE OF THE MUEZZIN AS HE CALLS TO PRAYER FROM HIS TOWER ON HIGH.

THY SKIN OF BROWN...TONES SO SOOTHING TO THESE TIRED EYES THAT HAVE SEEN SO MUCH DESTRUCTION IN THE NAME OF RIGHT.

WHAT WORDS CAN I SAY TO THEE THAT HAVE NOT BEEN SAID BEFORE?

 FOR I KNOW OF A SURETY THAT THOU BEAUTY LIGHTS THE FIRES OF MEN THAT FLAMES IN THE KILN OF LIFE.

WHEN I THINKEST OF THOU I SEE DUSTY BOOKS IN A LIBRARY OF THE FUTURE THAT SPEAK OF LOVE IN SOFTLY SPOKEN TONES...TRANSITIONS THAT STAND THE TESTS OF TIME.

ITSEEMS THAT I HAVE SOUGHT THEE AS I WALKED ON LEAVES IN ANCIENT FORESTS...AS I STARED AT THE WAVES OF OCEANS FROM SANDY SHORES...AS LIVES CONTINUED PAST HEEDLESS OF THE EVIL THAT MEN DO...THE GOOD THAT MAN DOES.

AND WHAT SHALL I DO NOW THAT YOU ARE REVEALED TO I AND I SPEAK THESE WORDS IN THIS BROKEN TOUNGE?

MY HEART...

MY SOUL...

MY MUSE.

SUPREME LINGUISTICS OF A G

 THIS IS THE MUSIC FOR THIS PIECE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z5HXC58oR8

Egotistical dillussions of grandure as I be splitting domes with these scintillating tomes.

Shaking the trees with these thoughts that erupt afrineasily like jesse jackson with a new urbanology, a whole new verbalology.

Never was one to stand hidden by the crowd see?

 A straight warrior I be ...unconstrained and savagely free.

silent paths in the garden of my psychophysiality.

 A fyah ass lyrical phantasy

 Funktastikally mindgasmically freeform as aliens in space dance primitivly to this beat.

A scriptural detonation of words.

Stone tablets in the hands of a poet in this century.

Give I back I village priest.

Direct link to allahs degrees....This is verbal carpentry.

Mentaphysicality.

Supreme linguistics of a g.

SEX ON A GREYHOUND. {70 MILES AN HOUR} X RATED DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18! BY JERALD MURPHY

AROUND MY WAY WHEN A WOMAN IS BUILT A CERTAIN WAY WE SAY SHE IS BUILT LIKE A STALLION. NOW I KNOW THAT SOUNDS CRAZY CAUSE A STALLION IS A MALE HORSE BUT I GUESS WE ARE REFERRING TO THE LINES THAT SHE DISPLAYS. AND SOME WOMEN ARE SO DAMN FINE THAT THREE DAYS AFTER YOU AND YOUR BOYS SEE HER IF YOU SAY 'REMEMBER THAT WOMAN' THEY ALL DO. 

As soon as I get on the Greyhound I spot her... Two seats from the back. my territory. I make my way to the back of the bus and place my backpack into the overhead compartment. She glances at me and her eyes say my name. I sit down and throw some D.J.Ozone on my mp3, roots reggae mix shit. After we have been riding for about 20 minutes I lean forward and touch her on her shoulder, She looks around and I ask her where sheis headed. She tells me that she is going to Miami, her voice is like honey on a biscuit. Sweet and strong. The miles fall victim to the turning tires of the bus. The drone of the engine. I say that I am on my way to Orlando. The bus continues to ride and we talk until it stops in Lake City. I see her stand and my eyes betray me, she sees the beast and smiles at him, she plays with fire and seems to delight in it. Her body is so proportinate that she actually looks like she glides as she walks. As we say around my way "GODDAMN A RETICULATED PYTHON! The beast moves in with such force and yet so gingerly. Ah to suck those tits , to caress those thighs, the beast is a student of the bards. We reboard the bus, and the beast is in full blaze as he sings his song. The lines that he elicits as the bus rocks like a boat on a calm sea, soothingly. Her shorts are so short that they almost show her ass, yet they remain in good taste. Her pussy presses against the seam and it is so phat. Ah to drink of its juices, yet I digress. I have told her that I write and she asks to hear a poem. I speak in the darkness and I reach into my bag and pull out my pad. She remarks on how good it looks as I open the pages and find a suitable poem for this moment. She does not know it but she is my prey, the spider to my fly. A feast for my eyes as she sits with the blanket across her legs and closes her eyes to hear my words. When I am finished she opens her eyes and I see her beast peek out. She tells me that even though I have not mentioned sex her pussy is wet. She takes my hand and places it beneath the blanket on her pussy, damn, it is so soft, so wet. She unbuttons her shorts and slides them down under the blanket. I slide my shorts down for I wear no underwear at all. She reaches over and places her hand on my dick and her eyes open so wide that I see the whites glowing in the darkness. She sits on my lap and places my dick between her pussy lips and slids down onto it. We ride on the motion of the bus and the motion of our sex. I bite her neck and she bites mine, my hunger is so great. Her juices flow over my dick and onto my balls. She calls me daddy and a few other names as I grab her ass and try to jam my dick into her brain, to cause her heart to leap. She begs me not to stop as I cum into her pussy. We sit like this until my dick falls out of her pussy. She climbs off of my lap and goes into the bathroom and the driver announces that we are in Orlando. I get off the bus and We talk until my ride comes. I wave and she boards the bus. A stallion on a bus bound for Miami...A fine ass beast. 

GORILLA APESHIT

WHEN I WALK INTO THE ROOM I MAKE THE TIMID COWER IN THE CORNER...

AFRAID OF WHAT I MIGHT DO NEXT...

CAUSE I AM A PURE LYRICAL FOOL...

A BEAST UNLEASHED FROM THE WRITERS TOMB.

THE ONLY WAY THAT YOU TRY TO HURT I IS TO RUN AND TELL...

YET ALL THAT MAKES I DO IS UNLEASH THIS FURIOUS HELL...

AS I BREAK FREE WITH THIS GORILLA APESHIT ALL OVER YOUR PUSSY ASS...

RUN TO FACEBOOK AND TELL THAT... PUNK BITCH.

CAUSE I AINT GONNA BITE MY TONGUE...

YOU AND AN ARMY CANT STOP THIS FLOW...

SO STRONG THAT EVEN THE C.I.A. KNOWS I DONT PLAY.

I WAS BORN IN THE PITS WHERE SO MANY DIE...

RAISED IN THE BELLY OF BABYLON THE WHORE...

WHERE SO MANY PERISH IN CONFUSION...

A FENCE TO KEEP US IN...

 A FENCE TO KEEP YO BITCH ASS OUT.

CAUSE WHERE I COME FROM WE WILL EAT YO ASS UP...

SHIT SO REAL IT WILL MAKE ULCERS ERUPT...

SO TAKE THIS TO FACEBOOK YOU DIRTY LOW DOWN SNITCH...

AND TELL EM I SENT YOU WITH YOUR TAIL BETWEEN YO LEGS BITCH.

I  DONT GIVE A DAMN CAUSE I AM A GORILLA AND I SLING APESHIT.

AND TO THE CENSOR THAT READS THIS, I WANT MY PROPERTY BACK.

ITS THE PRINCIPLE OF THIS THING...

I FIGHTS FOR MINE

MATHEMATICS

GOTTA HAVE THE MUSIC

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBrE07Z9EX8

 Compositions of composure as complex as the creation of this universe.

 Allah in these letters that form hyroglyphic equations that built pyramids...spawned the sphinx.

As men in modern chambers seek the answers...daring to keep them secret...ever elusive 10 percent...the compass remains askew.

So many that stand on the square...in pulpits and positions of power.

All the while the others form the 85 percent ...wallowing in the despair of being at the bottom of the ladder.

As possesed souls they live orchestrated lives...completely absorbed in compatability.

Percentages and algebraic symbols...figures to be manipulated...dead bodies on battlegrounds in cities streets.

Niggas...crackheads...them thugs and hoes.

This is mathematically precise reasoning...born in the ghetto...from where the prophets arise.

And 5 percent preach the truth...to dead minds.