(PUNANI SILVERBACK KISSING LOTUS GENTLY)

(PUNANI SILVERBACK KISSING LOTUS GENTLY)
THE POUND... BEAST BRANG BASS...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LddqzHFDR_w&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Let me kiss you clitorially...
Let me place my fingertips on your slickened lips...
Let me suck at your hardened nipples...
I opening you up and dwelling in your lubrication, playing within your walls... Tittilating your torgid clit.
You so wet and tasting of the sea...
Arching your back and thrusting your punani onto my thrusting tongue.
I want to kiss you till you screaming cum.
Let it dribble through my silver and black.
Mark of the silverback.
A moment as I stand tall, pound my chest and roar.
Sniff at your pussy, flip it round and beat it from the back while squeezing nipples and biting gently... Pulling your hair and swinging deeply.
Give that pussy to me! And I catch myself...
I don't think you are ready for that.
The extreme pressuring drop of me as I recede into the land of punani beast ravage pretty, where you belong to me.
I never letting go of you naked on my lap.
You pushed back and spread as I touch the back wall and make you hollar...
"Beat this pussy daddy!
You gone make meeeee..."
I spanking those ass cheeks as the cum leaves my balls, travels through my gut and leaves my heart skeeting, skeeting, skeeting... onto your jutting clit.
I in you released...
Completely.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

SEEDED

(SEEDED)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZNp6kHM0gs&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I see us together... Two peas in a proverbial pod.
We set free to propagate this literal earth.
I feel the need to dig my hypothetical roots into the well of your creation and drink deep.
Grow in the richness of your soil and bask in the nature of your caring... I will protect you as I cast my shade and give life a chance to rest.
I will hold you down in times of storm... We locked biophysically intimately.
I could not exist if nor for you... You if not for me.
The fat calf on his knees under fluttering leaves.
The eagle on thermals overhead circling and aware.
The fish in the threatened seas where man spreads the disease petroleum and chemical...
Whispering waves talking of sweeter times.
The acorn and the bulb.
The waking seed bursting from its skin.
We Africans...
We earthlings...
We.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(FYAH FLAME SCRIBBLER)

(FYAH FLAME SCRIBBLER)
THE MUSIC FA THIS ONE... PYRE FYAH
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qtQHcD7mTE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

And in his aura he carries the judgment and the wrath...
The fire burning in his soul like white hot flames blinding as they reach skyward and cast embers into the branches of the sleeping trees.
His purpose to drop these words that have carved canyons into his tormented psyche.
That are written on the flip side of his skin.
His graffiti hieroglyphically scribbled cybernetically, he having gone futuristically.
He born of the last days of segregation and slavery... He the living epitome of an alternate view of intergration... The lie of the Amerikkkan dream.
He the reality of being born of the outcasts... Those who will never be free if they continue the selling out of their history, buying into the insanity.
His first breath black, his last will be the same as he continues to live molecular in the wind the rain and his seed.
His kind never dying as long as there is need, as long as prisons grow full and more are built... Brick and concrete walls designed to hold crushed and altered souls...
Make men into animals.
His flames hot burn tricknowledge to cinders as from the ashes new thought patterns rise... His words overstood grow green grass and trees... Villages and utopian cities built of wood, of steel.
Children playing in the sunshine of a once dream having become reality.
So sad that this utopia will only come after this current system is a sad distant memory in the future where there has been a great war in mans history.
It talked of as the future human wonders at modern man's stupidity.
They talking of the fire the flame and the nature of the beast.
How the beauty was missed as nature forgotten was destroyed by corporate greed and capitalistic regimes... By the lie democracy as the truth socialism became the enemy.
A child dying as a doctor drove by in a Mercedes... A preacher in an Escalate... A politician, a limousine.
His aura fire as the trumpet sounds the alarm...
His aura.... the judgement... the wrath.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(6 MONTHS AND GUSHY)
THE MUSIC...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPAKtQxr_AM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

You so ripe in your gushy, all full of milk.
Delicious.
You taste like the creation when this planet, this galaxy, this universe were born bursting with teeming life.
You make me see this world and that one, the alpha and omega and the seraphim...
I and you existing outside of time... Of space.
The primordial swim and the walk ashore.
So ripe that I grow intoxicated and my head spins.
You catch me between your thighs and I sigh... Push and slide into your wetness.
Your juice of life that I tasted but scant moments before as you arched your back and I traced your stretch marks.
Lapping like a lion at the watering hole.
Ticking like butterfly at your erect clit.
Rising in orgasm and collapsing in release.
Covered in your gushy.
My ambrosia
The elixir of a warriors life.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(NAKED LIES AND THE NAKED TRUTH)

(NAKED LIES AND THE NAKED TRUTH)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS DROP...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ag-EDmlGRM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Are we really grown here in these modern times?
We who have used the word love for so long and in so many languages... Many lost to that place where dead languages go... The alphabetic heaven where poem, prose and letters home speak of loving her... Loving him in reverent tones.
We modern in Babylon find ourselves still locked in a battle against our nature.
We finding images of love and lust abnormal when it is who we are.
Love and lust entwined so deep that to have one without the other is lunacy.
We formed of love and sweaty lust.
We bursting forth from the womb nude...
Suckling at the naked breast of life.
Still ashamed of our nudity...
Our form molded in a chamber of Allah where he probably chuckled at the irony of love and lust...
We placed unclothed in a garden of plenty and given great keys...
We wanting more as love and lust led man to sin.
She all he could see... They cemented.
Together they have become we and we still have no overstanding of love and lust...
Why we could be free if we embraced the art of God.
We carbon and water and built of the particles of a long lost star, a fraction of a second is our existence as defined by omnipotence, by omnipresent and billions of years.
We grown peruse not these things as we see only what we are trained to see.
We fail to see the beauty.
That has become our reality.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SEED FALLING TO BARREN GROUND)

(SEED FALLING TO BARREN GROUND)
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE...

The old man with lofty crown still stands...
He having seen so much... She having seen so much.
Two natures in repose.
King as he illuminated in sunlight impregnates... Queen as she bears the flower... The seed... The fruit.
Roots digging into sand and fertile soil... Holding on.
Wearing an Afro in summer... Becoming branches in winter, a stark reminder of what has been... What might be.
Sap flowing and giving life as they drink elemental and breathe necessity...
They symbolically representing universality and the driving need to rip forth from solid rock... The cracks in the concrete... The need to be...
They gnarled and notty as they reach for the sky.
They the trees overstanding we.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(MY... WHAT BIG BROWN EYES)

(MY... WHAT BIG BROWN EYES) I WONDER IF SHE EVEN REMEMBERS???
THE MUSIC... I WOULD ADVISE YOU TOO LISTEN...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVEXPVjbavw&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Her eyes it seemed bore into my soul.
No matter how many times I saw them it was the first time.
She like them seemed to ooze brown, sweetest cocoa ground into the finest chocolate.
Turns out I was whipped.
Not by pussy I must say... Nay, it was by her mind, so intricately designed if I a dislocated African may rhyme.
Kicked back and reclined.
She was to me like fine bourbon... Hot as I swallowed... Warming my insides... Radiating out.
I drunk on her falling contented off to sleep.
Waking up starving for another glimpse into those big brown orbs
She so intellectual that it shook the walls of my makings, on a cellular level.
The nucleonics of my D.N.A.
I wanting to melt down as sweat across her brown.
Trailing down her breasts, running in rivets to her stomach and thighs... Her wet having become mine.
I having never been there was lost... Swept away by the sensation.
She should have been mine or I hers.
My heart bled chocolate soul into the crevices of my chest cavity as the bullet of her leaving ripped through my skin.
Tumbled through my body and exited my head.
I falling in slow motion while looking into her big brown beautiful eyes.
Mesmerized.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY