{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN

{AND I CALL YOUR NAME}DEDICATED TO KAREN THURMAN WHO WAS THE FIRST GIRL I EVER HAD A CRUSH ON IN MY LIFE AND WHO STILL REMAINS A ROCK THAT I LEAN ON.
I HOPE  THAT SHE OVERSTANDS THE PROFOUND IMPACT KNOWING HER HAS HAD IN MY LIFE.
THE MUSIC FOR THIS ONE... PLEASE LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/4wwO1FS8x1Q

My heart in its caverns cries your name and I see you in my dreams as the balance.
I am turmoil as I have sought you across continents, on islands, as I have stared at calm and stormy seas.
Salt water in my dreads and on my bald head.
In the hairs of my wisdom that hang from my chin.
The world so afflicted could use us as the cure.
We the vaccine that inoculates whole generations against the ignorance of societies past.
I in my sleep must have cried your name a hundred thousand times and yet I find myself not remembering it.
Even as a boy when Karen was all I saw.
Such pretty red skin.
I must have called your name, and I strain to remember how your voice sounded so long ago.
That first crush so detrimental to who I am.
The writer, the griot.
The African freedom fighter.
I am disharmony without you and these days seem so hollow.
What am I?
Who am I?
I see the sun setting in the sky, the pink thread and I fight sleep cause it takes me to a place where I must see you time and time again and wake alone.
Face the masses as a lonesome stranger.
I looking for the other half of my soul.
Would that I could hold out my hands and manifest you... Right here, right now.
I looking to my cupped hands pray for you to appear.
Reflecting the light of Allah onto my brownish red skin.
Light reflecting in my hazel brown eyes.
My heart, my heart it cries your name as We become the refrain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)

(A TALE OF MASTER, MISTRESS AND FULL LIPS)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/Fi1Ca8bW7Mw
I told her I loved her lips and she smiled.
Such a pretty thing that smile and I reached out and brushed the skin on the back of her hand.
Looked into her eyes.
Tried to get her to feel my need and I watched her chest as her breath calm rose and fell in her breast.
Looking back into her eyes I broadcast my need as she receptive perceived it and let me lead her to the chair where I sat her down and bent to my knees.
Sat back on them and talked to her.
The sundress she wore such a flimsy thing that I could see her naked nipples press against the cloth as they grew erect.
Pressed their image into my optics.
She knowing that I wanted to see parted her thighs and the jutting mound of her mons venerous pressed against the satiny panties that she wore and I reached out and touched her there.
She was already warm and damp and I pulled them to the side.
I told her I loved her lips and I ran my fingers between them as she shuddered and sighed.
I leaning forward kissed them and she moaned.
I sought the button of her clit and rubbed it with my tongue sucked it into my mouth and hummed.
It growing firm and plump reminded me of a morsal of fruit and I sucked the juice that she produced.
It in my mustache... In my beard... In my psyche.
She begged for me to fill the void and I produced my manhood placed it in her hand and told her to put it where she needed it.
She pulled me forward and rubbed it in her slit and the drop of pre-cum on its head became a wet stick string a moment before she arched her back and pulled me in.
My breath caught in my throat released in a rush as I plunged in and pushed all the way to the back.
Pulled all the way out and pushed back in as she squirting came and produced lubrication.
It allowing me to caress her in her very depths.
Her legs pushed back to the bed as she shook her head from side to side and screamed loudly.
Her screams and mine mingling to produce a song of savage sexuality.
Of sweet satisfaction.
I looking at her face bent down and thrust my tongue into her lips.
I penetrating both sets as she became my slave... My mistress... My empress.
I becoming her slave... Her master her king.
The sweat of our exertion bearing testament to that fact.
I slamming into her erupted and fell away as she rubbed my overflow into her skin.
I leaning over kissed her lips.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(PRODIGAL)
THE SOUND...
http://youtu.be/MDXIxl1QRtM

I who was born Guerilla in an urban landscape.
I who was born fighting and scraping cause my skin black did not allow the masses to see my peoples potential.
The full manifest of my solar energy as I flare, sending winds racing cross galaxies encased epidermic.
The cosmos of stars walking around unaware... Dim memories of what they could be... They having become sheep.
I lion lounging on the plain having seen all these things in late night dreams, visions on a subconscious screen where souls scream as they fall into the pit of startling revelation that so many call death.
They wishing they could come back from the flow.
Warn the masses that they have been decieved, that this is not who we are designed to be.
I from the comfort of cover spit these teflon clad rounds into the cowering crowd political.
I walking pump rounds into their inert forms... Wouldn't want them to suffer cause even the Guerilla has compassion.
They departing scream...
Music so sweet to the sufferings ears that they welcome the prodigal son as he walks up scarred and torn.
He reborn The Urban Guerilla.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THERMONUCLEAR DYNAMICS)
THE SOUND OF THIS THINK...
http://youtu.be/jQxnq9640lQ

And this Florida sunshine makes one reflect... On creation, on our formation.
Mine first in a garden called Eden by the beast who came and corrupted our name.
Yet that tale is what we are living now and I... I want to stay in this garden where your skin shines like black gold in my mind.
Where we are lord and queen.
This Florida sunshine I wander was it brighter back then when the air was clearer.
When we the lords came through here and mingled with the natives.
Were the trees greener?
Did the water taste sweeter?
I wonder?
Fountains of youth and all that.
Springs from the well... The earth.
You giving I something to seek.
Even if I never attained it you gave me hope.
Allah is so magnificent for this gift which some have broken down to a four letter word.
The first glimpse of thee must have sent volts of current racing to every nerve ending in the first man's body.
It must have shook the very ground that they two=one formed stood on.
Angels bearing witness to the tremendous pressure.
Man and woman erupting on the scene.
This Florida sunshine got I and I reaching into the Florida air and pulling alphabetics to complete this scroll.
Oh why... Oh why was I born?
Brought to these seven hills?
This city T'allah'assee?
Standing here I look pon your form meditatively.
You so reminiscent of our beginnings in the cradle of life.
I and you born fully mature infants...
I and you ripped from the fire as carbon... Ripped from the dirt as earth.
This Florida sunshine caressing we.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHE LIVES IN MY LAB) DEDICATED TO MY LOVELY MODEL CANDACE LIGER
THE MUSIC...

I mad scientist standing in my laboratory look at the equations scribbled on the blackboard... Click on computer keys and examine thy double helix under the microscope.
I mad scientist stroke my grey and black beard and start the construction of you...
Hmmmm freedom of choice, let me mix some of that in.
Brown skin a must as I continue the build.
My mind contemplating the possibilities threatens to explode the hypothetical you into existence as reality before my hands can build you...
A nipple... The muscles that ripple in your legs... The deep brown pools of your eyes as I mad scientist reflect on the fact that once a scientist greater than I built our ancestors in his laboratory, gave me the means to reconstruct us both if only we were to unlock the key.
It hidden somewhere in our flesh, our blood, our psyche.
I the mad scientist sip my coffee and pull on my blunt.
So much work to do...
So much work to do.
I seeking the key gaze upon thee...
I scratching my bald head and trying to unravel the mystery us
The key...
The key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WATERS EDGE DOJO) SENRYU... DEDICATED TO VERY DEAR FRIEND OF MINE FROM BACK IN THE DAY WHEN I WAS A MEMBER OF THE LYRICAL ASSASSINS, MARSHA NELSON. SHE IS ALSO ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I KNOW.
THE MUSIC... YOU BETTER LISTEN CAUSE IT SETS THE MOOD
http://youtu.be/NCaH-qqTWpk

(THE KOI POND)
She white lotus floats
The pond serene captivating
The bees wings beat

(A SLIGHT DEPARTURE)
Water reflects sun
Breeze in weeping willows leaves
Whispering of life

(AHHHH THE WONDER)
The waters skin swells
A swirl and the koi appears
His colors vibrant

(OF NATURE)
He exudes beauty
The lily and the koi dance
Crickets on fiddle

(COALESCING)
They are harmony
They the melody hum unique
They speak of calm

(INTO NIGHT)
Sun falls from sky slow
Trees the final curtain call
Lotus fades away

(I LOVE YOU SO)
THE SOUND... DON'T MISS IT...
http://youtu.be/y12PlyjCXGA

When my world crumbling trickled through my fingertips and became sand filtering through the waist of the hourglass of time.
When my universe stood still and threatened to leave me suspended, naked and exposed in the vacuum...
Wandering in desolation and dying inside.
I man closed my eyes and caressed your visage with my psyche.
It seeming to be the only thing that could free me from the crushing conspiracy.
Your image became the bricks made of straw and clay that I used to rebuild my house, my city, my world.
Gold glittering mixed in, diamonds reflecting off the moisture of your teardrops...
The pain of us dying, knowing our children left behind would still be slaves.
Their children would serve the same system that had raped you so viciously...
Left me an example cooling on a slab as they cut away at my body.
Distorting evidence to hide the fact that they cursed my superiority.
The fact that though they had tried genocide we still survived... A reminder of their continuing crimes against hue-manity.
A reminder that monsters most often wear homo-sapien skin.
That a smile can also mean evil things.
I knowing these things opened my eyes and sought you out.
Trying to explain as bullets bearing my name fell spent to the ground.
As you wavering in and out of substance remained the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.
I reaching down to gather the grains.
Picking them up and trying to rebuild you in the image of Isis...
The image of Queen Sheba...
The image of Nandi...
Trying to carve you from the crumbling world that I once in Allah's chambers held in my hands.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY