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Sunday, April 2, 2017

(WHAT YOU WAAN DO)
THE SOUND OF MASSIVE DAMAGE...

In this life I done seen some fucked up shit... Flipped out, tricked out, pure fuckery abounds type a shit.
Black people getting bad breaks all around in this shit.
I wouldn't be nothing else though cause black get good in this shit sometimes.
Then again you got the fuck shit.
The pure ignit shit.
That nigga moment shit.
Gotta be a true warrior to balance this shit...
Unravel this shit and bust holes in this shit.
Fuck this shit and a bitch go to sleep and wake up to this shit.
Gotta be a beast in this shit.
Thermonuclear and synaptic in this shit.
Spark a riot in this shit.
Be that shit and rock a separate mentality in this shit.
Arm, leg, leg arm head.
Moment of prayer, dojo in meditation in this shit
Stand 360 in this shit.
Squared and African in the reality of all this shit.
Study this shit and break the cycle of this shit.
We hating each other Willie motherfucking Lynch in this shit.
Flawed philosophy and motherfucking clowning in this shit.
Should be gods in this shit.
Our babies trained to be slaves in this shit.
Niggas, hoe's and bitches in this shit.
Defend a crakka in this bitch ass shit.
I will fuck free speech up in this racist ass, manifest ass shit.
Levels and degrees​ as I free flow in this shit.
Sonday in Babylonian, pagan idolotry ass worshipping shit.
So tired of this self imposed prison ass shit.
All my life I been living this shit.
Fuck this motherfucking shit.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

(PHASES OF THE SON)
THE SOUND OF REALIZATION...
https://youtu.be/0A3DdIeciik

Liquid molecular suspended in morning air as the day begins...
Pinpoints of light in the haze as metallic chariots emerge and pass by.
Man and water occupying the same area, mist swirling as man walks.
If only man nuclear recognized his true potential.
His true purpose... The air sighs in the leaves.

(Birth)
Newly emerged he
Once sentiant now modernized
Prophecy fullfilled

Sun beating down pon his head as drops of sweat cool his skin.
Salty h20 draining from his very pores from his very pores.
Would that he could recognize his oneness.
Stainless steel and glass glinting in prismatic tones.
The wind groans.

(MIDDLE AGE)
A boy he once was 
Now man he reflects inward
Deepest of darkest.

Pineal light explosions, neurons and grey matter reforms.
He is the wind, the ant, the bee.
He is a new beginning, a savage end.
The rain melting down his melanin saturated skin.
Confusion to the unrealized, peace a sword in his art.
He crying out in the pain of seeing innocents die.

(THE END)
Wisdom the worst friend
Grey hairs in his beard testify
Death calls his true name

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY



Saturday, March 25, 2017

(CAN I?) EROTIQUE
THE SOUND...
https://youtu.be/IdgfFbvipsI

I just wanna touch a woman... Feel her sigh.
So alone and she walks by, all hips and thighs, so mixed up in these emotions and I, I would dine on her pheromones.
Lick at the crossroads of her nappy jungle.
Send her into spasms of orgasm see., I would lap of her divinity, a taste of her dripping into my beard.
I would kiss her lips and let her taste of we.
I hanging so prodigiously, so much weight and I would gently, gently place it ppn her petals.
Rub it back and forth in her lubricity, slide it in and watch her eyes grow wide.
Ride on her moans as the earth rotating spins.
I would whisper her name as I scratch her scalp and pull her as close as I can.
Try to reach unexplored territory, go where no man has ever been.
Stick a finger in her mouth and feel her suck, Oh my!
Both our hearts fluttering as we fuck vangloriously.
Holding back cause I, I don't wanna cum... Each of your orgasms fuel for the beastly fire.
And I feel it, oh I feel it pressing at my sanity... Threatening to erupt and spill into your inner chambers, on your melanic skin.
Damn...
I need to touch a woman who overstands me.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Thursday, March 23, 2017

(THE HURTFUL SECRET LOVE)
THE SOUND AS A MAN WAXES...
https://youtu.be/DJraOI2ZY8w

And I have admired you from afar...
Your curves...
I have lusted over you in my unrequited love.
Other men touching and leaving and I, I would defend thee...
Hold you in my arms post partum when nothing makes sense.
I but a friend have heard you as you cried... Lamenting over lost loves that never should have been.
My dreams so full of visions of you... So wet that upon waking I am drained.
I would wax poetic for thee... Thine aura so refined.
These days turning into nights where I alone sleep.
A traveler lost in these times.
My remorse would fill oceans if it were tears.
You walking by and floating on your scent.
Flights of fancy amid flattened dreams.
I loving you so.
Never have told you.
Never will.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Monday, March 20, 2017

(FOREHEAD TO THE GROUND)
THE SOUND...
https://youtu.be/G9vFlC_b6aU

Upon waking I curse the fact that I am cognizant... That I must stand and communicate with so many who are sleep walking.
Drowning in a sea of information.
So much knowledge and they would rather be sheep.
Members of the flock.
Petty humans...
I call on the supreme power of Allah placed in me.
I stand to face the day intelligently.
Iconically.
I born of the red clay of Georgia and African tragedy.
Whipped asses, raped women and cut out babies.
Slavery, pigfeet and segregation.
A whole lot of fuckery... Still we stand, see?
Dry bones crying out in our story, or is that Ezekiel biblical, seen?
Washtubs in the backyard. Klansman's robes on the line.
Donald Trump just a tiny fragment of a much larger problem.
Why can't the white man see his involvement in this systematic victimization.
Or is it that deeply rooted that he just don't give a fuck?
Scuse me that's just my God kicking in.
Question all sides, weigh all facts.
Upon lying down I curse the fact that being cognizant I will not sleep again.
Not the blissful sleep of ignorance that so many find.
Upon waking I cursed walk this earth.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Thursday, March 16, 2017

{MARY WOULDA TOLD JESUS}


{MARY WOULDA TOLD JESUS}
THE SOUND OF MARY SPEAKING...
https://youtu.be/mPkqHQVhyBM

They rewrote stories... Made you white but my blood knew.
I sensing your power across the ages of man... Back to when we dwelled Godly.
You and I in a garden in Africa.
My soul crying your name, yours proclaiming mine, as we fresh and young petted a lion.
They changed you Nefertiti to white, Changed you Cleopatra to white.
Made you Medicine woman evil manifest pon the surface of the earth.
Made me Imhotep into a raging devil.
Our very characters made in caricature.
Our people celebrating the orchestrated ignorance.
The horrible reality of non knowing as our spirit fading seems to be dying.
You and I gasping for breath under the awful pressure.
So much power and we would be they before being ourselves.
Contrary to sanity.
The few warriors and empresses screaming into the darkness...
Echoes , echoes, bouncing off the empty walls.
Cascading as broken shards to the hardened cores.
Preachers dancing cross the raised floor, peace in the face of violence.
Our seed exterminated on a whim.
We supporting it.
His-story promoting the glory.
Our-story born of lies and pain.
Told watered down, biblical and unsound.
Bout time...
Its bout time...
We flipped the script.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

(NIGHT NURSE)
THE SOUND... PLEASE LISTEN, THIS PIECE AND THE MUSIC GO TOGETHER...
https://youtu.be/EClAQU3--Ow

One day surfing a cyberwave I saw you.
A vision wrought from the carbon and water that formed my mind.
Blood flowing as the feeling filled my body and rumbled in my veins.
So intelligent that I genius paused in awe.
Looked up at the blue sky and focused on a fluffy cloud.
It floating outlined against the vast backdrop.
I who would be it's passenger.
Thick thighs and powerful brown eyes.
Hair soft nappy and black.
I genius paying homage to you wisdom, queen of antiquity in these here modern times.
Mind bout to go cataclysmic.
I synaptic tickling black and white keys.
Word, power, sound as the earth trembled and the sky quivered.
Far for you to think I would ever be so mundane
Merely insert your name.
You my night nurse so soothing and sweet.
I think of thee.
Electronically as well as physical as prophecy becomes reality.
As leaves bud on spring trees.
I think of thee.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY