Friday, April 26, 2013
[DO THE MATH] DEDICATED TO DENISE OLIVER
[DO THE MATH] DEDICATED TO DENISE OLIVER
THE MUSIC FOR THIS SCROLL... ALL WOMEN BETTER LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/Y6H_AT6wTz0
We...
You and I mathematically as we the children of the stars become the seed that grows strong trees in soil of equality.
Our grains black and fertile.
As the sun blazes 93 million miles away and washes our skin in ultraviolet rays that feed the melanin that is our connection to Allah.
As the moon hangs 238,900 miles in the mantle of a night sky and pulls at the tides of oceans and man.
As an ant is able to lift a hundred times his own weight and a spider casts his web and floats on thermal currents to populate new areas.
Pyramids erected pi precise standing as beacons, maps to space.
Our equation broken down into strands and spirals of dna which form the double helix and cause explosions on a cellular lever that become a new life bursting forth from mothers loins.
A cry that falls on the chromatic scale, urgent the call.
We...
You and I in the numbers of the alphabet that added and divided... Spit and dropped on pages and stages become our definition
Our souls black and fertile.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 7. A NEW BEGINNING PART 2
[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 7. A NEW BEGINNING PART 2
THE SOUNDTRACK...
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL24cV6IIynraNXJbdDXGILg-M283jHlWc
Sampson hears a bird call and steps from the side of the house and the white men see him at exactly the same time.
The white man on the right suddenly stands there with an arrow sticking out of the front of his head and the back.
Sampson draws the gun from his side and pumps a bullet into the head of the other white man and all hell breaks loose as they hear people running through the house and see curtains in windows flutter as shots start to ring out.
Sampson and Melchizedek retreat behind an overturned wagon.
They hear a voice from the house yelling as it tells everyone to stop shooting.
The shots cease for a minute and they hear some one yell "Who the hell are you?"
Melchizedek says one thing and he does not yell but his words carry across the now silent yard.
"We are your death."
At this the shooting from the house erupts again and they hear the voice telling them to stop shooting you damned fools.
"Thats that goddamn painted nigger!"
"He killed my pa!"
Suddenly the door busts open and a boy who can't be a year or two older than Sampson runs from the house with a rifle in his hand.
Sampson rolls on the ground and puts a bullet in his chest and the day erupts in more gunfire.
Sampson is now closer to the house than Melchizedek and he looks back to see Melchizedek pulling some special arrows from the quiver.
He lights them and starts to shoot them at the house.
They break glass and set curtains on fire in all the windows and as men try to put out the fires Sampson and Melchizedek pick them off.
They know that this place is a hideaway and that there are no women here so they show no mercy.
As soon as the white men realize what is happening they start to panic and run from the house and two of them make it to a stack of wood in the yard.
One of them is suddenly hit from the side and has his throat ripped out by the dog and the white men scatter in confusion.
Others hide behind various things in the yard and they pop shots at the black men.
Sampson stands and starts to shoot and every one of his shots hits a white man and he seems to blend into the day as he does a savage dance of death.
He moves and uses their fallen guns as he runs out of bullets.
Though full of death his dance is beautiful.
Melchizedek also stands and the remaining white men even though they hold guns feel their souls tremble.
Soon there is only one white man remaining and he stands and Sampson shoots him in the arm.
They white man drops his gun and falls to his knees as Sampson and Melchizedek walk up to him and the dog sits in front of him and looks at him with his head cocked to the side.
He looks up and sees Sampson and says "Who are you?"
Samson is still wearing the black scarf across his eyes and he says "I am your worst nightmare white man. I am the Lonesome Stranger.
He takes one of his now empty pistols and loads it. He does not talk and he finishes loading it and shoots the white man between the eyes.
He and Melchizedek and the dogs turn and walk away before melting into the trees.
They do not notice the little white boy in the window of the burning house.
He climbs from the window and walks to where his fathers body lies and falls to the ground beside it.
The legend of the Lonesome Stranger is born.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
Thursday, April 25, 2013
[A DAY IN THE ANNALS]
[A DAY IN THE ANNALS]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE HERE... WHEW...
http://youtu.be/XktaLh9bPtk
And he walks among man...
Looks at him in all his confusion and contemplates the end of all things.
He breathes of the air and smells the aroma of food.
Various kinds.
Since infinity has he tried to warn them as they rush heedlessly along... On the way to being wiped out by corporate greed and selfish needs.
Man having lost the ability to share equally.
He sees the day unfolding and waits for the moment.
It is what has brought him here and he feels it in the fabric of his being.
He sees the young man selling his ware on the street corner and he thinks back to a scene more than a thousand years ago.
Similar situations in vastly different times.
The young man looks around and sticks his hands in his pockets as a skinny young woman walks up to him.
She is wearing a skirt that has a leg slit, not a tight dress and her legs hangs out a little bit.
She has not had a hit in hours and she is bouncing as she talks to the young man.
He sees the way that the young man stands as the woman talks to him and he sees the agitation... It seems to crackle to him.
The woman steps back and opens the skirt and her pussy is covered in fur as she offers herself to the young man who tells her to get the fuck away.
He hears him say "I dont want none of that mangy ass pussy."
The woman drops the folds of the skirt and reaches into the pocket that is hidden in its fold and pulls out a gun and shoots the young man right in the middle of his forehead and his blood splatters the wall behind him.
The ground where his body crumples as the woman robs him and leaves.
No one comes out and there are no witnesses.
He steps from the curve where he is standing and walks over to the young man and holds out his hand and takes claim of his soul.
They walk away together and leave his body to grow cold.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
[MODEL OF MY INSPIRATION CARVED OF FLESH]
[MODEL OF MY INSPIRATION CARVED OF FLESH]
THE MODELS FEATURED IN THIS PIECE BY ORDER OF APPEARANCE ARE...
HEATHER SANDERS... TEUNNUE HURST AND TOYA REDMOND
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...
They look at you and all they see is the flesh...
They scratch at the surface.
Lewd comments and false promises of things that they could do...
Pounding on collapsed chests and beating skinless drums while your beauty resonates from a whole nother place.
You my dear are the healing for tortured minds.
Your elegance precedes you and opens closed doors where fantasies merge and become words that speak of you into uncertain futures.
Strands of our existence cast into the cosmos...
Captured on alien moons and reflected on the face of far off planets...
Light years away.
The many sides and sizes of you entrall me and leave me breathless, gasping for air...
A moment as I sink into the aura of you and absorb of thy essence.
Such a juicy piece of fruit...
A divine part of this creation which I have had the blessing to experience...
They look at you and are swept up in the flesh...
I look at you and see potential possibilities.
You inspire the creative in me.
Thank you my queens.
I am blessed by your presence.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
[ZULU EMPRESS SUITE] A DEDICATION PIECE FOR CAMELA PRUITT
[ZULU EMPRESS SUITE] A DEDICATION PIECE FOR CAMELA PRUITT
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/n4HOYIjTJIE
I saw you the instant you crossed my sight... A Zulu empress in all her beauty.
A smile that makes the sky pale in comparison... Fade from deepest blue to a lighter shade.
If I were standing in front of you right now I would bring all to bear.
Write a song in the grey of my screaming brain and sing it to you in poetic patterns of fluidity.
Wash over the whole of you.
Being achieved in the brown of your eyes... Being maintained on the notes of your voice as it vibrates the drums of my ears...
Penetrating the hot liquid that is my core... Flows through the ventricles of my pounding heart.
Play music so sweet that it would seem as if a choir of angels was my backup... A tribute to you.
The ebb and the flow resounding across the naps of your hair and trailing down your back like soft finger strokes...
Rubbing your tired muscles and relaxing your psyche as I try to move heaven and earth leaving you suspended in the air.
Slow rotations of you in all your splendiferous manifestation.
Breeze that plays with the fabric of your dress and makes my subconscious wander unfettered...
Green grass and trees where colorful birds frolic and play.
The garden where I woo...
The lake where you reflect in the waves... Undulating and shimmering on the surface.
A fish captured in the background of your form as if not wanting to escape.
He so representative of my state...
Zulu empress you make my day.
You make my day.
jerald hamzahfaruq murphy
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
[A STROLL IN 360]
[A STROLL IN 360]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN... THIS PIECE WAS WRITTEN FOR THIS MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/o09L-hkrzhw
Flipping, dipping, dripping and oozing into the structure of all these things.
Flowing from the place of all fabrication where a spark ignited at the utterance of the word be.
Sun born in the midst of a billion suns and placed in rotation in the field of its own gravity.
Blazing... Blazing.
The blade of grass that to an ant looms as massive as the redwood tree... A blue whale in its immensity in the vastness of oceans and seas.
We extraordinary in our being yet so ordinary... Homo-sapien dreams of having it all, being the masters while we are really slaves of this, our human condition... New times... Same rendition.
War inna Babylon... War inna Africa... War inna Israel.
Bomb blasts that send life back into the dirt from whence we came...
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Breaking back into basic compounds.
The carbon and the water.
Flipping, dipping, dripping and oozing into the structure of all these things.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 6 NEW BEGINNINGS PART 1
[THE LONESOME STRANGERS BIRTH] PART 6 NEW BEGINNINGS PART 1
THE SOUNDTRACK...
Two years have passed since his parents death and Sampson is now16.
He has grown strong and true and his stride is something to behold as he prepares for what is to happen today.
He seems to have taken on the persona of the lion that he and the dog killed when he was a boy becoming a man.
He has lived in the woods with Melchizedek and he he has also seen great cities.
His training is now complete.
He has been schooled in religion and philosophy as well as the fighting styles of various cultures.
He is a tool of peace yet he is also a tool of destruction.
Yin and yang.
He and Melchizedek have traveled to this place for a reason and Sampson sniffs of the air that smells so like his growing up.
He is home.
He sits at the graves of his parents and there are no tears, for there is no need of tears.
He is dressed in the clothes that he will wear today, his hair is in dreads and hangs from under the cowboy hat he wears.
He looks over at Melchizedek who is dressed in his battle gear.
He is painted black and white and is wearing clothes from Africa, a place that Melchizedek has promised to take him someday.
He sits in meditation and Samson sits beside him and falls into that place where some find peace and some insanity.
He looks ever inward.
A squirrel sniffs its way to Melchizedek's feet and looks into his eyes and falls spellbound into their depths.
He and man in that place of all things... All possibilities.
The dog lies with his snout on his forepaws and looks on at the scene.
He does not move as even he seems to be contemplating what is to come.
They have found the men who killed both his mothers and his father and it is time for justice to take its place in these matters.
They come out of their states and the squirrel runs away a little dazedly.
They stand and Melchizedek straps on his bow and quivers and Sampson straps on his gunbelt which has two gleaming colts on either side.
He ties the black scarf around his eyes and looks from the two holes at Melchizedek.
They hop on the horses and ride into the woods, they will use no roads.
After a couple of hours ride they come upon hilly country and ride across the hills until they come to one where a house stands in the trees below.
There is smoke coming from the chimney and they see white men lounging around.
There are wagons from various robberies and some of them have been broken down to be used on others.
Sampson hops from his horse and Melchizedek does as well and they tether the horses to some trees before they walk away.
Dog walks by Sampson's side and Melchizedek gives the signal to split and melts into the surroundings.
Sampson and dog continue their walk until they are in the trees close to the house.
They crouch and wait for Melchizedek's signal.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
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