THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN

(THE DESCENT OF MODERN MAN)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-DBmotq-8E&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Man fell to earth escorted by smoke and fire, which in turn were reminiscent of his formation…
Created from the ashes of a sun.
Carbon, oxygen and hydrogen squared…
His impact though not that of a comet was momentous… He carving a path into solid earth.
Man formed civilizations that fell victim to lost memories.
Cities older than those told of in modern schools where westernization seems to have always been the goal.
Crosses and cannons you see… Sticks of spitting fire..
You see?
Man became the image of poverty painted in blackface, jigabooed on modern t.v.
He once king swung from the kind of man’s tree, mankind wearing white sheets and throwing gang signs masonically.
Swing in the breeze monkey.
Free is just another form of slavery if it ain’t really free from closed mentalities.
Man and the kind of man spiraling toward an uncertain destiny you see…
You see?
Smoke and fire burning in populated areas as helicopters hover and overseers patrol urban jungle streets…
Crack of the whip as a bullet exits a gun barrel…
A man falls hot to the ground, he cooling and leaving his mark red as the fire of his formation in a puddle soaking into the sand…
Running down a gutter.
See?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

IMPLOSION

(IMPLOSION)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…

A man’s heart beats in the throes of a massive implosion and sucks the air from the area surrounding him…
He in heartache falls to bended knee.
Crying in his pain he heaves with head bowed.
He raises his face the heavens as his heart now at the apex of its implosion releases the air and it devastating roars across the tundra of his despair and crushes all that stands in its way.
The lines on his face wet carry the drops of his tears to the corners where they drop bearing much weight.
Splatter into thousands of glittering prisms that catch the sun.
It witness to this display as the horizon rises above its setting crown.
Fire melting into the branches of the trees as darkness is ushered in.
It purple and pink on the clouds.
His heart now destroyed still beating in his hurting chest.
He having never felt this is consumed alone.
Love walking across the ruins of all he thought he knew as it picks up the pieces of his heart and placing them in order, reassembling them.
This vessel to be used again.
The man in sorrow knows not these things.
He only feels the agony as it implodes his aching heart.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(IF I)

(IF I)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bzP3vulWkJ4&feature=youtube_gdata_player

If I could I would flutter the blood as it entered your heart…
Cause it to react.
To expand and contract your muscles in anticipation.
The whisper of my words on the membranes of your eardrums becoming a bass that vibrates you instinctively…
Oozes into you sexually and pours from your pores as pheromones released into the atmosphere…
I dizzy continue to manipulate…
To become a part of all that you are…
We rising to climatic heights and sweeping through orgasmic galaxies that reside in the pits of our bellies.
Butterflies bumping against the walls.
I rubbing the tired from your skin and muscles…
Soothing your tired bones as my  voice massages you from the inside and echoes across your loneliness…
So reminiscent of mine.
We connected if only by these words falling from my lips to be consumed by the past.
I metaphysical impart myself to thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CARNIVOROUS)

(CARNIVOROUS)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS FEAST...
http://youtu.be/aw4TGDxEGy4

The last time I was nice it was taken the wrong way...
People thought I was a pushover and came at me all sideways...
That was back in 1976 and I was 11.
That was when I realized that I dragon spit fyah.
That I lion eat meat.
Leave skin and bones and rotting on the ground for the scavengers to eat...
Laughing like hyenas as they fight over the stinking carcass.
That was when I realized that I was meant to be alone even when in the midst of a crowd...
They so consumed in darkness that they might as well be blind...
Led into the slaughter house and fed as veal...
Fattened for the kill.
I walking in and on other dimensional planes where they would never go...
Huddled in the corner, smothered by fear.
They trapped, never to be free.
Even in death.
Ideology carved into headstones standing row after row in so many cemeteries...
Dead sheep abandoned by false shepherds who care only about the living as they pass the collection plate obediently...
Sing when told.
We willllll seeeeeeee...
So much water and the fool chooses to remain thirsty cause of training ritualistically administered...
When I was a young man I realized that the nice get chewed up and devoured.
That's why I aint nothin nice on any day of any week...
I lion roar and cause the establishment to cringe...
They know I dragon manifest spit hot ass fyah.
The last time I was nice they thought I came to play...
They took it the wrong way.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(HYPOTHETICAL)

(HYPOTHETICAL)
THE BEAT AS IT CARRIES THIS DREAM...
http://youtu.be/NMJrAvEaYu4

You on my mind...
Hypothetical.
What you would feel like as I rubbed my hand across your skin...
Talked to you of the world as I see it...
Listened to the music of your voice as it caressed the lobe of my ear and sank to the skin of my eardrums...
Beat so sweet...
So hypothetical.
We in moments of reflection on a beach where I try to show you how I see life...
Where I see the waves reflected in the brown of your eyes...
Taste of thy salt.
We in moments of reflection on a front porch as the world passes by and we again talk of life...
A dream in panoramic 4d cause three can't contain we...
We hypothetical.
Holding hands as the spring breeze washes across the land and brings life from barren winter.
Rips green from the ground and colors the vision as far as we see.
A songbird singing from the trees adds melody to the scene...
Each moment a prelude to the next where we in comfort reside in the knowing of each other...
Man and Woman, Queen and King...
Hypothetically conceived in a mad love dream before being ripped from the heart of a Dislocated African and scribbled for all to see.
Letters forming and breathing...
A sigh as I wax...
Hypothetical.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(CUNNILINGUISTIC)

(CUNNILINGUISTIC)
THE MUSIC AND IT IS DETRIMENTAL TO THE MOOD...
http://youtu.be/nE5rC1WQdjY

On my tongue is where I want you...
A taste of your nipple which really is texture translated and manifested as taste.
Lick it and make it glisten with my tongues questing tip...
Suck it and pull it into my mouth.
Hear you moan... feel the arch of your back.
I want to trace a path down through the valley and kiss you on your tummy.
Play with your belly button.
Feel the ridges of your stretch marks... the little hairs that grace the surface of your skin.
A pause before I stand at your gates... The insides of your thighs that fall away into the valley of your flower...
I see its petals and kiss your flesh gently.
Your thighs quiver in anticipation as I trail my way in... sucking and kneading your skin.
I smell your want as it translates to need and gently touch your lips with my tongue.
Lick them from bottom to top... Open you up and kiss spur tongue...Hum a little on its head.
Suck it into my mouth.
I drink of you as I make you elicit elixer that shine covers my lips and shines like dew in my grey and black beard.
I feel your fingers on the back of my bald head as you pull me in.
On the sides as you struggle to push me away.
I feel the change of your tone as you prepare to erupt.
You lay your head back and scream out your intentions.
"I'm cummmmiiiiiiiinnnnggggggg."
I drink.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

REDUX

(REDUX)
THE FUNK FOR THIS FUNK...
http://youtu.be/hsXvINYEZ5E

Every once in a while in this world of mixed agendas you meet men who are not afraid to be men...
Who celebrate the beauty and diversity of the women of his race and is not ashamed to admit it.
Who is able to realize that she is the carrier of he and she... of we into the future where we a people live to fight another day.
Who sees her form as the most beautiful thing created under Allahs hand in his laboratory.
Who loves the kink of her hair and the rocking of her neck when she is sassy.
The way she rocks stilettos and fits in a tight dress...
Full oh so full ...
He kisses her stretch marks when they make love and wipes away their tears when they are sad...
Makes her smile when she is down.
He appreciates her many manifestations cause he knows it is her way of metamorphosis as she emerges most lovely butterfly.
Every once in a while... Every once in a while.
You meet man unafraid to be man.
Would you modern recognize him?

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY