(OF ALLAH, THE BIRDS, THE BEES AND ME)
MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN... THE MUSIC IS PART OF THE. MESSAGE...
https://youtu.be/ZPQW_YQ9XXA

Out here it's just Allah, dog, and me.
And the breeze... The breeze gently pushes the tops of the trees.
Dog perks up her ears, Allah whispering to us both.
Cicadas singing their part in a symphony that includes the birds, the squirrels, wilder things.
The forest breathes under our feet as we in synch with Allah move, as we synched become.
The sun falling on road, dappled shadows where relief resides... A moment in Allah's shade.
Our existence so profound... Our existence so miniscule as galaxies upon galaxies rotate and revolve in the heavens above, beyond the clouds and blue sky.
Who is more important than the smallest bee? Who is more important than dog? Than me?
Such philosophical glimpses as man reflects on Allah, as dog remains dog, as trees with great vines hanging remain trees.
All at the whim of the most gracious, the most merciful Allah wa ta Allah.
In this realm where we find ourselves molecularly, we Be

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(SHE PAINTED GENTLY IN SUCH SOFT WORDS) DEDICATED TO SHERINA.
THE SOUND AS MY TEMPLES POUND...
https://youtu.be/j2EaIWdC1-Q

And if I were to draw her I would use charcoal to capture the very pure darkness of she.
Rip her and render her alive pon page.
Words and image combined as o bringing her alive would sketch her eyes, the Asiatic cut... Her lips, the juicy African plumpness... Oh my... My mind.
So much information as I contemplate her form.
Her breasts so firm as I trace her from mental horizons... The gentle rise of her belly, the thickness of her thighs.
The plumpness of her feminity as my temples... My temples pound her into the very crevasses of my psyche.
Her smell so sweet that I swayed would try to convey it as the most magnificent of odors ever to cross the hairs of my nose.
As it is inhaled into my lungs.
All these things as I poetic painter would preserve her pon paper... Pon computer screen.
Such a delicately lovely thing that I gently would treat it... This trans-dimensional journey into this realm where we in our love would bring life to dying world's.
I in hanging these words would stand back contemplating them as I would sigh...
A tear in mine eye a second before it following my cheek would fall to the floor.
Eventually evaporating away, back to the flow.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(THE POWER OF HER EMBRACE)
THE MUSIC... PLAY AS YOU LISTEN.
https://youtu.be/SNMTnFmDE7Y

Of all things to miss a woman's touch is the most painful of things to miss.
Man standing alone against a cold and brutal world, he would seek a woman's embrace.
The softness of her skin, he reflected in her eyes, he reflective in her soul.
Mind spinning free fall into flights of fancy, he pictures they holding hands on beach, son reflecting on waters surface.
He imagining waking to her voice, the day in the background, the night in the future.
Promises of so many of these to come, he knows his love would penetrate the deepest spaces, echo across the cosmos.
It would be spoken of in reverent tones as spirituality is taught in modernistic schools of great thought.
Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee in full magnitude, the deepest subbass rumbling, pressure pressing down, gravity keeping them locked in orbit.
Her touch are the cells that keep him mortally wounded, alive to the reality, they give him the ability to leave this planet, searching for the answer that would give them this visuality, the ability to see across the great void.
Man alone existing in the darkness and waiting for her light... A touch... He awakes.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(OF HATE, PRESERVATION AND EVOLUTION) An article on the true definition of hate.
THE SOUND...
https://youtu.be/KxkQn0PRBU8

The other day as I was proceeding on my way, posting shit and doing my thing I was accosted by a do good ass nigga.
I don't know what influenced her to say that I was spreading hate.
I called her an idiot and proceeded to unfriend and block her stupid ass.
Today I'm going to talk about two words and some other things and imma need you to keep up.
The first word that we are going to examine is hate.
Hate is defined as such.
"hate

hāt/

verb

1.

feel intense or passionate dislike for (someone).

"the boys hate each other"

synonyms:loathe, detest, despise, dislike, abhor, execrate; "

That's hate in a nutshell.
As i look at the word and it's synonyms I see way more than the words can define, I see systems designed to perpetuate this mode of thinking, this attitude.
Systems designed to actually keep hate viable for a long time.
We exist in this system and we are its victims. Willingly, unwillingly, knowingly and unknowingly. We live in a system that raises monuments to murderers and war criminals who fought to keep us as chattel, a system that allows us to be murdered with no fear of retribution.
We live in a system where the money bears the likeness of Andrew Jackson who murdered thousands of blacks and indigenous. He wore boots made of the skin of an indigenous man while in the White House.
The current president is also a proponent and practitioner of this mentality . Hence his appeal to the basic inner nature of the white race. To Nazis and the KKK and any other low life scum sucking white person.
I hear people say I hate white people... Hmph.
Nope I don't, cause hate blinds, it causes arrogance and leads to mistakes which have toppled whole civilizations on more than one occasion. Check the history.
The other word we will study today is self preservation which is defined as follows.
"self-pres·er·va·tion

ˈˌself ˌprezərˈvāSHən/

noun

the protection of oneself from harm or death, especially regarded as a basic instinct in human beings and animals."

See now that's where I'm at.
I am in a perpetual state of self preservation which keeps me from being harmed by the hate of Amerikkka or any other entity. This is what I walk, talk and give freely to anyone I come into contact with.
Everything I say is actual factual pertaining to what we are dealing with here which is hate. Given the fact that this hate has been the modus operandi of the white race they are the ones I am preserving myself against.
Not one thing has changed since slavery. While a few blacks "make it" most of the blacks in this country are one paycheck, one welfare check, one mistake away from being homeless.
From losing the car or the furniture.
Self preservation dictates that this is a condition which threatens our health, our well being and our sanity and that the aforementioned hate must be confronted. Self preservation also dictates that if a strategy does not work anymore it should be discarded and that we must use alternative means, we must evolve. Self preservation condones war, whether mental, physical, financial or guerilla. It is not terrorism unless you are killing women, children or the elderly which is what has been used against us. This happens on Federal, state and local levels. Mass media which is controlled and maintained by the system hate furthers the cause and twists it into a false system of democracy. It is time for us to forget and forgo the whitewashing so to speak of this system. It's time to realise that the black church is controlled and maintained by this system of hate as well. Black preachers sold out long ago to the hierarchy which is full of the grandchildren of Klansmen and racists.
I could go on and on but I think I've shown you where I don't hate white people.
I just activated my self preservation mode.
That means I'm a self preservationalist.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{TIME MASTER, TIME SLAVE, TIME PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE}

{TIME MASTER, TIME SLAVE, TIME PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE}
THE SOUND AS THIS JOURNEY IS UNDERTAKEN...
https://youtu.be/YzG3JxGaMrY

And of time we would expound...
First of all what is time, does it exist in a knowing manner?
Does time realize it exists as it affects every last thing that occurs on earth?
Time having been there from the very beginning, before man realized that the sun stood still and the earth revolved.
Made clocks and calendars to regulate time... Made time zones to judge just how far in a day man had come according to his place on earth.
Would this time exist in the depths of space where other stars regulate, a day but a fraction of ours, a day so many of one of ours,
Time such a cruel and unrelenting judge, yesterday a boy, today a man, tomorrow bones drying to dust in the ground.
Time going on about its business as societies rise and fall, as forests felled make way for the haste and waste of man... Primitively modern as he furthers his cause... As he makes such futile use of all this time.
Kills the very planet from which he was born... Such an ungrateful child as time rolls on.
Time the angel sitting at Allahs right side as the cosmos was born... As the earth was formed of a rock and set in a preordained path alongside it counterparts.
As a system solar was set in a galaxy which in turn was set in a universe...
 What time is it on a planet in the system Serius where the dog star orbits the sun?
Pyramids and monuments alluding to other modern times where hieroglyphics were the written tomes that moved modern men.
Such an interesting perspective as in these times men are propelled along in chariots of metal and fire... As planes travel the lower spaces and spaceships pierce the in between.
Time the witness as babies die and people are ripped from this thread... Turned into empty shells raging at the futility of it all.
Time was, time is, time will be... Long after man is gone.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{OF SIN, KARMA, FATHER AND SON}

{OF SIN, KARMA, FATHER AND SON}
THE SOUND AS THE ANGELS CHOIR SINGS...
https://youtu.be/bH4J_UV80mQ

The rain falling so hard and a man standing on a street corner as it runs in a raging river down the gutter, cars riding by spraying water from beneath tires.
The man lights a cigarette and looks up, he sees across the street a woman sitting on the edge of the gutter. There is obviously something wrong with her, she wears all white, a t-shirt and pants and she has a look of anguish on her face.
Such pain.
The man watching the woman notices that her legs are open and that she is on her period, the bright red blood mixes with the rain and drips between her legs into the water flowing in the gutter.
At first the man repulsed looks away, What the fuck? he thinks.
Yet he finds himself wondering what life she must have led to lead her to this point.
The man having lost a child just a few years ago, his son, he died in his sleep and the woman has made him jump into the mans arms again, the moment of discovering him, the depths of his anguish.
He looks at the woman and realizes that she could be a metaphor for him, for how he felt after his sons death, the awful reality that he once had begged Allah for the opportunity to die, to leave this place.
His life for his sons.
He forces himself to look at the woman, to take in the scene, the people passing by struggling not to pay her attention, the cars that splash water on her as they pass by.
He tries to make sense of the situation, images continue to flood his mind, the first time he saw a dead body, he a child in Georgia had seen so much death since then, he had become desensitized by the time his son died, he had not cried for anyone dying ever till that day.
He sometimes being the cause of death had categorized it and filed it away.
He feared it not at all.
He in looking at the woman realizes that it could very well be him sitting there covered in the filth and soiling himself, such pain, such anguish.
He wants to help but what can he do? Where will he take this poor woman?
Certainly not to his house, but where?
The homeless shelter is but 4 blocks away and he recognizes her from there, he has seen her talking to herself, raging against invisible demons.
He would like to know her story but he does not know how to approach her.
He standing under the awning of the building as she wet drips blood into an uncaring gutter.
He steps from under the cover and crosses the street, gives her a five dollar bill and continues on his way.
Sins of the father, they overwhelm the son.
Sins of the son become the sins of the father.
Such a conundrum.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

{ECLIPSE} A WHIFF OF YOU ON A SUNDAY IN AUGUST

{ECLIPSE} A WHIFF OF YOU ON A SUNDAY IN AUGUST
THE MUSIC AS I DIGRESS...
https://youtu.be/3WURmRtIwAg

I feel you leaking brown and sweet into every cavity of my melanin filled body...
A strong breeze as you pass across my top lip... As I inhale you into my nose... So fragrant and I... I sigh.
Memories of you exploding in my mind... The swell of you breasts, the phatness of your ass, the gentle sound of your voice on my eardrums... conversations from the dusk till the dawn.
Sun peeking through the drapes as the world we saw go to sleep awakes.
Good days and bad and here again we persevere... Victims of being born in such turbulent times... Our love the only thing standing against those who would tear us down... Trod us into the ground.
You walking by and flowing into the depths of my darkest soul from whence I came... Spirit of my ancestors all in your tones.
Such an elegant figure backlit by the sun... allusions to the star from whence we came.
Light in its birth and its death... An explosion in the depths of space... Supernova and here we are.
You all big brown eyes and me lost in the images they reflect... Such beauty and I... I would catch a breath.
Pause.... A moment lost in your curves... In your innerflection.
I feel you... I really do.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY