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Sunday, February 8, 2015

(THE SHOW, IT MUST GO ON)
THE SOUND...




This place where it all runs together... Where there is no here and now and the past present and future merge.
This time, this space where colors, numbers and science fall into sequence and the notions of men become petty inconsequentialities.
I alone on pineal levels where the light glaring exposes flawed rhetoric and ripple effects.
Waves undulating across the sea of men... The sea of woman...
I abstract shattering explosively as black slashes on a computer, phone and tablet screen.
I born electrical impulse, I born thundering impact that causes the air to shake, weak knees to quake.
For who could stand in I way?
Earned my freedom in the streets of the projects where the government files black men as thugs and bastards...
Disposes of them as such after they are thoroughly whitewashed into becoming what they were meant to be.
Where mamas open their legs to institutionalised deadbeats... Expect more out of them while teaching them nothing.
They chasing green paper in a rigged economy where their dollar is spent before its earned.
They owing their very lives to the system Babylon.
Such a sad slow ballet as the dancers fall as ashes to the floor.
Spinning weightlessly to the foot smoothed boards.
They the entertainment for a captive audience as the song fades into silence...
The curtain falls...
Seamlessly it all fits into place.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY


Wednesday, February 4, 2015

SHAKE SPHERE


{SHAKE SPHERE}
THE SOUND PLAYING IN THE ATMOSPHERE...
http://youtu.be/X8mZge8qfPA

Thou tendeth to causeth the blood in mine loins to boil excitedly...
Such art thou art... such a sweet delicacy.
Thine chocolate wouldest I lap at to sate mine sweet tooth...
Thy juices wouldest I drink of to sate mine thirst.
I in this desert of longing where thou the mirage appear on the horizon.
I having chased thine image across the dunes of mine parched mind.
Upon reaching thee would I pay homage to thine creation...
Hand you a scribe ripped from mine fevered mind... Brought to life by mine hands as I in the cold of night alone cried out thy hypothetical name.
So hard that I had to touch myself...
Wanting it to be thee.
Thee the voice on the other end of a telephone line...
The image on an Oovoo screen.
So long have I lived in the purgatory of longing where thou are the relief...
The warmth in mine cave of solitude where the voices of mine ancestors speaketh of love...
Would that I could know its embrace...
The scent of thine flower... The feel of thine tunnel as it grippeth the tautness of mine skin...
As it makest the fluid of life surge roaring to mine one eye.
As it makest thou scream upon thine fluttering release, warm and sticky as thou squirteth onto the surface of mine skin.
As we merge in a kiss... tongues, legs and arms entwined.
Our breath, our blood slowing down.
I seeking of thee pondereth these things.
Thou the second wonder unspoken of in the annals of man.
The queen...
Thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, February 2, 2015

( STRAIGHT TO THE POINT )
THE BEAT THAT ACCOMPANIES THIS CONVERSATION...
http://youtu.be/A7gmAhQ46gE

And I a wandering soul would talk to you in these trying times where the world seems to have fallen into the deepest pits of futility.
The #icons glaringly having no value.
Human lives are but #pawns played out in black letters on newsfeeds... So many are blinded, so devoted to worshipping the screens of t.v's and #bullshit cinema.
Praying to white #Jesus for #money and material while the children forget the past... are doomed to repeat it.
360 degrees of seperation as slavery is pimped out #Mercedes and shiny rims.
Revolving on the #dias surrounded by spotlights.
On the #pulpit in colorful #robes.
Twinkles and sparkles as #diamonds are mined by stolen children in #Africa.
Cocoa picked by babies who have never tasted milk chocolate.
#McDonalds working people below the poverty level.
Babylon the beast fed on the blood, sweat and tears of a single mother.
The blood ,sweat and tears of a black man sentenced to #prison for selling weed, selling crack,  selling #molly cause poor people wanna forget.
On bended knees with hands pressed together as #revelations come to pass.
#Fire and #brimstone raining from the #pineal region of one #Georgia born.
The day would dawn on us talking cause my #soul stirred would I pour out to you.
I listening to the words as they emanate and resonate from your diaphram and tittilate the #drums of my ears.
Sonically beating into the depths and crevices of my brain.
A moment of #peace found as I a wandering #soul take you in my arms... We... #naked and #exposed.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ #MURPHY

Saturday, January 31, 2015

(LET ME LOVE YOU)
THE MUSIC...
http://youtu.be/c8945jjwE2s

Let me be your lover... The man who brings you flowers picked by mone own hands.
Makes you deserts... Cakes frosted and surrounded by chocolates.
Washes your back in the shower.
Let me rub your feet as you lay back reclined with them in my lap.
As I listen to your day.
Let me absorb your stress.
Take your pain and make it mine.
Let me be the channel that you turn to when you need to be entertained.
Let me hold your hand and show you the beauty of the cosmos as eye see.
Let me listen as you speak of beauty to me.
As I run the comb through your hair.
As I scratch your scalp and you lay back.
My only desire to rise you above the drudgery of these days alone...
And my mind and body aches with the need... Been so very long... I seeming to have lost the ability to feel.
Been so fucking long.
I sitting here not wanting to die without knowing the touch of a woman pon my body... Pon my mind.
Surely somewhere out there you must exist.
Let me be your lover.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Friday, January 30, 2015

(ENTRANCED) INSPIRED BY MAQUEDA JACKSON
THE SOUNDTRACK... I WOULD ADVISE YOU TO LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/LkEpIWjiZbo

There she is sitting across from me and I find that she has me hypnotized.
Those eyes, and I let my vision drink of she.
She speaks in that singsong voice that island women have and I want her so.
I know that she likes to play and that falls right into my realm.
I ask her to stand and she does... Fucks my world up cause she reminds me of big cat, graceful, beautiful but deadly.
I the beast want her as prey but she walking towards me paralyzes me her hips and thighs have rendered me me transfixed.
She reminds me of Africa and I inhale the air that swirls in her wake as she reaches out to touch me, as she trails her fingers around my face, touches my ear and traces around my neck.
I breathe in... A sharp intake and I am able to move as she cimpletes her circular route around me and the music playing in the background becomes part of this dance and I reach out and my hands sit on her hips.
I grab her ass and pull her to me as we sway to the beat.
She pushes my hands away and keeps swaying.
She raises one side of her dress and I see that she is wearing panties as she undulates for me.
My hard robbing my mind of blood.
She reaches under her dress and pulls her panties down and lets them fall to the floor red thongs and I bend and pick them up and sniff of the crotch as she bites her bottom lip shyly. My lion comes surging to the forefront and I grab her, pull her to me and run my hand up her dress and touch her pussy.
Its so fucking hot and I sniff my fingers to sniff of her scent again.
She lrans back into me and I grab her throat as she lays her head on my shoulder and we kiss.
She reaches back and loosens my belt and my pants fall to the floor
My dick hard springs from the slit im my boxers and she wraps her hand around it and leans foward a little and places it between her legs and I feel her hot sex as it wet provides viscocity and I don't try to put it in.
I let it rub between her lips and her clit.
I reach into the top of her dress and rip it open, it fall to the floorvand I grab her nipples as the music it continues to play.
She sways and I slide into her as she grinds her ass back into my stomach.
I feel myself slip into her womb.
Her ass cheeks so phat and I spank her ass with my hands.
Her pussy with my dick.
She bends and her hands touch the floor flat.
I standing up in her pussy proceed to beat down and her juicy talks to me.
It squeezes me and I am reminded of the tale of Big Dick and The Snapping Punani.
Got to be careful that does not happen to me as sheblies down on the carpet and spreads for me.
Brown, black and pink fills my vision and I descend upon her.
Fall into her velveteen grasp.
Her pussy speaking in its own toung and I talk back to it.
Oh pussy you are so good to me ...
Oh pussy you make me wanna cum and she says the words that causes my nut to rumble in my balls.
They slapping her taint, her asshole and I bend her back and push my dick in as far as it can go and make it swell at the head.
I try to lock myself in.
Damn baby! Yo pussy is so good!
She screams that she is cumming and her pussy grows inferno.
Her words making me pump harder to meet her on the field of orgasm.
Poppies and Maryjane.
She has become my hallucinigen.
I high on her feel her explode around my dick and I roar as my nut explodes and I pulling from her pussy spray thick and strong across her stomach, her tits and onto her face and in her hair.
Falling across her I whisper into her ear.
Don't you ever leave me.
I am yours forever.
We lay this way for awhile before I grab a towel and wipe her down.
Wipe my dick.
We talk until sleep claims her.
I watch her until I fall asleep.
Her pussy so good that I am spellbound.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Thursday, January 29, 2015

{THE BEAUTY OF THE BOOTY} THE MODEL IN THIS PHOTO IS BRITNEY TIPTON A CLOSE FRIEND OF MINE... THIS PIECE IS A DEDICATION TO ALL THE WOMEN WHO READ MY WORK
THE SOUND... MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN...
http://youtu.be/wsDHOMmXjFY

A new day dawns... Sun breaking out of the darkness... First as the deepest blue and eventually becoming the glaring white.
A new day and I son appreciate the ability to rise.
A bran carrot cake muffin and a cup of Killamanjaro coffee.
A scribe pon mine old soul and I son...
I am still looking for the one.
The booty... The booty walks by an a moment of silence in reflection.
I son a man of Africa born into a new world where I son exist in Amerikkka as a warrior fighting for a lost ideal...
Freedom, and it right in our grasp dies the death of being ignored as a possibility.
It is buried without fanfare in an unmarked grave that is spat upon.
The light of recognition falls in shade spattered blotches on my soul and I find an oak tree to sit under.
Watch dog as she does her thing... We so integral to the whole dynamic of this thing...
And booty... Booty passes by.
A moment of silence.
I son alone see these things.
She plays across my mind like an old song written before my birth, a lovely sonata or perhaps a diversion.
I son bump her in my soul.
She calming the raging emotions, the feeling of emptiness that is the darkest pit of my existence.
The calm black waters where I son sit by my sea...
She breaking down the doors to my cell.
The booty... The booty.
Silence...
It causing waves to form on my seas... A breeze to blow and my ship it comes sailing silently into port and I a Griot embark.
My tale must be told... The tale of my ancestors... The tale of future generations and I son pump her through my headphones as the basis of my life.
The booty... The booty.
I so lost in the magic of this moment where the sun warms the skin of a son and shines its light pon thee my queen.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY


Tuesday, January 27, 2015

I see yo chocolate and I be

( KEEPER OF THE BEAST)
THE SOUND OF COMPLEXITY...
http://youtu.be/GzUe8TYpCUY

I see yo chocolate and I be...
I be fucked up trying to contain the beast cause the beast wants to fuck you up... fuck you down.
The beast wants to throw your legs back and explore your folds.
Suck the juicy right out ya.
And I all fucked up in you try to beg of the beast to not unleash upon you.
He pounding in the preponderous appendage that beats between his legs.
It swelling skin and veins opens its eye to the bounteous sight of your pubic mound and your clit waves a greeting... He responding with tear in eye.
He wanting to see the most secret pf your  places and explore the base of your heart...
Rest on the mountains of your thoughts.
Breathe of thine fresh air.
Make you cum as water flowing down your valley.
The beast speaks to me and I be...
I be fucked up cause you become I see...
I finding that I must have you.
Gotta have you.
Need you to spray as mist on me.
Splattered shattered drops of we.
Brown, black, and oh so prismatically.
I see yo chocolate...
I be.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY