[TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR] A COLLAB WITH SWEETEE IZQUEEN

[TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR] A COLLAB WITH SWEETEE IZQUEEN
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/zjwLhPHDMQg



SWEETEE
Let me drop my guard, I want some water I this weary land that's so bland/ move to the shower on this hr/ flames of passion burns my lips do nothin but moan/ water hits my hand behind every drop down ur back/ trails of kisses taste wet n delicious/ riseing up/ rushing n gushing, I feel ya pushing/ steam in the air, sweaty n flamboyant n I don't care/ Give me stick/ deep n rich/ hands across my chest/ I bounce back n need no rest/ stroking, jumping, n jerking/ Swim in line/ wiggle this time/ as I drain U out/ Chocolate Passion without a doubt

JERALD
No need to fear for even in my rough I shall be gentle for you... Water washing over the brown of your skin and turning it golden... Your moans and the sound of the drops merging... Flying away as spatters as we make contact... Pull apart and make contact again... On my tongue you are wet... So wet... You arched to meet my thrust... Nipples hardened and erect... Ass clapping as I hear you beg for it... a push into the depths of your womb... Warm and fluidly I cum... Reach down and stroke you as you tremble... Call pon Hamzah... The lion.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND SWEETEE IZQUEEN

[CONTINUATION]

[CONTINUATION]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... DO NOT MISS...
http://youtu.be/Kk5scsTBRFI

And we opened our eyes and cried.
We cried for lost yesterdays and eventual tomorrows.
The sky opened up and cried with us and water ran down ditches into river, lake and sea.
We cried for lost children and buried mothers...
We cried for deadbeat dads who never knew what they missed.
Tears evaporated by the sun... forming fluffy white clouds on sunny days.
Absorbed into the dust under our feet as mud clinging to the soles of tired feet.
Man and woman in these new times struggling to find a way.
Who are we to question the fabric that holds it all together... We humans.
Meanwhile the sun rises in the morning and the moon pulls at the tides that surge.
Rise and fall of the skin as breath is taken in and exhaled.
Such beauty in the totality as birds fly across the sky painted a most vivid blue.
Water fractured and rearranged in prisms that erupt from ducts and run into the wrinkles and fall away as these our tears.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

[NUBIAN ALLUSIONS ART EXHIBITION] THIS PIECE WILL ONLY BE FEATURED AT BLOGSPOT. TOO HOT FOR FACEBOOK

NUBIAN ALLUSIONS ART EXHIBITION 

THE MUSIC FOR THIS TOUR...

http://youtu.be/JHOLAM3qFWg

She created naked in starkly contrasted dreams where her shape becomes the fabric...

At one moment she an angel...

Another moment she the medicine woman serves the healing drink...

A potion to soothe a screaming mind...

She once a companion has become so much more...

Mother, sister, wife and queen.

At times she is the harlot who comes spread and ready to receive...

Young and free...

At other times she is the demure...

Holding back just enough to keep a sleeper enthralled...

Lure him to the land of wet dream release...

Where even in sci-fi liqued dreams she stands poised ...

Waiting... waiting...

As I sometimes the beast rip at the delicate fabric of her panties like some adult fantasy...

The better to kiss her pink and full lips..

Yet who is the hunter and who is the prey in the throes of this sexual dream...

I under the spell wonder as my release comes.

THE MAD WARRIOR POETS TALE

[THE MAD WARRIOR POETS TALE]
A LITTLE CHAMBER MUSIC FOR YOU...
http://youtu.be/J8243YUI5Oc

He walking back from the place where he goes.
That place where there is none but he echoing into the all and the neither.
That is he and the voices of all that he has seen.
The joy and the adulation... the cries of release... sexual and otherwise... the love and the satisfaction.
Pain and hurt are such constant companions that they remain regulated to a corner in the shadows whispering, whispering. "We are here."
They along with fear, rejection and depression play at a puzzle on a table lit by a lonesome candle.
Rearing their heads and sniggering at developments as they were.
He walks with his head high as all soldiers do who live for the art of war.
He born of the turmoil which is carried in his soul like a lantern shining, shining.
The people who see him sense that there is purpose and part to let him pass... they know that those who stand in his way shall fall one way or the other for even if he were to die in violence he would take some with him.
Such is the way of his stride.
At times like a delicate waltz and at other times like the crashing and concussive sound of an explosion.
He has seen his death and committed himself to it in his headlong charge to wake the sleeping soldiers and their future wives.
The time grows near as the mountains glisten with the falling snows and the grasses bow with the approaching winters wind.
The tattered clothes that he wears are the mark of his failures and his achievements... flapping and waving as modern vehicles pass his ancient soul by.
He turns and disappears into the well of living souls but a figment of imagination.
Walking away.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(DRIP OF A SEXUAL DROP) A COLLAB FEATURING STARLET WILLIAMS

(DRIP OF A SEXUAL DROP) A COLLAB FEATURING STARLET WILLIAMS
TH E MUSIC FOR THIS PART OF OUR VOYAGE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piF-ObPhQPc&feature=youtube_gdata_player

STARLET
Deluge into me
Paralyze me
Rapture me
In my lustful pursuit
To interlace with you
Drive my temptations
Higher and Higher
Drench me
In the sweat of your brow
Possess my heart of eagerness
Silently thumping
Caressing my membranes
The wave I can’t explain
Appease my wishes
Have me soaring
Like a eagle
Rollicking in its habitat
While your breath lingers
Gliding exotically
Over my sizzling Body
As you leisurely
Cascade into my tenderness
Screaming you got it .. got it
In ecstasy surge through me
As we blend into our sexual understanding
Of needing and wanting more
Between our seductive organisms
We glow smoldering in our lust

JERALD
I raining fall upon you…
A soaking storm of thumping bass…
Dwelling as thunder.
I merge with the follicles of your hair…
The deepest pits of your pores.
Explode in your mitochondrial.
You the canvass for this glorious display as your voice bouncing across the void and merging with the spark.
I shall take you there and bring you back, watching as you slump from my erection to the bed.
We having journeyed billions of years in these minutes and hours.
I stroke you as you tremble hot yet shivering from hurtling through infinity…
Having died the little death.
We resplendent in the sheen of our lust.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY AND STARLET WILLIAMS

THE TRUE QUEEN STILL LIVES

[THE TRUE QUEEN STILL LIVES]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... PAY ATTENTION..
http://youtu.be/zVE052V0ung


She born of a vivid dream in the place of my originality... the font of my creativity flows from her being.
I who burst forth from her womb as modern Dislocated African in a land away from that of my peoples birth and placement by Allah.
To forsake her would be folly for she is the healing of warriors who lost in battle roam blind... Scales over their eyes.
Scales tipped in the favor of the enemy who has placed seemingly impenetrable odds on the path to truth... Made self hate a fashion statement.
Blond hair, blue eyes and fairy tales.
She remains the constant in her natural state born of the clay and water of a stream in the Motherland...
Her hair the trunks and branches of the tree, the darkness of night in the blackness, the spirals of the universal found in her nappy roots.
She contains the map that shall lead all men home, raiders, pirates and slavers have sought her booty... claimed that they sought treasure while the treasure was always right in sight.
She is my queen and her story is mine just as mine is hers as we, some lost and others found live in such confusing times.
The map in plain view.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IN THE GANJA SMOKE

[IN THE GANJA SMOKE]
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... BETTA LISTEN..
http://youtu.be/YezkYiSkvzY

Memories of you float by like drifting smoke and I find myself drawn in... Taken to other places where we once were new.
When your skin smelled like dew and I first looked into the liquid pools of your eyes.
You touch me from the smoke as it dissipates and I blow once again.
Sweet sinsi ganja smoke.
When I walked behind you and your booty bounced in my favorite sundress... On my favorite person.
You borne on wings of the subconscious where I and I reside.
A battlefield in a war torn mind.
The price of never forgetting the sweetness of you, even when the pain was so great that drowning would have been a most welcome death.
When I realized that we were never to be again.
When you would be lying in another's arms and I would be traversing this battle torn landscape alone.
The smoke starts to dissipate and I blow again and see you naked with your legs pushed back and I grow heavy for even in my memories you are solid.
Yet even that smoke floats away and I find myself  here alone.
Memories of you like sweet ganja smoke.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY