(DEFINITIVELY FEMININE, ON THREE)

Thou art the rhythm of a man's deepest being... The yin of his yang among other things.
Roses in bloom would bow to thy beauty as thou walkest by.
Bee's and butterflies would swarm and flock in thine wake.
Thou art the clouds as painted against the blue backdrop of Allah's sky.
The sweet smell of his rain as it falleth to his earth.
The cool soothing of a summers night.
Thine voice so reminiscent of the singing of magnificently colored birds alighting in the boughs of trees.
Man listening and falling to bended knee enraptured in the soliloquy.
Thy creation the all of human being, the thesis we.
In the end would we find our identity if only we let go of antiquated knowledge and notions.
Man so defined by his testosterone driven psychology.
He slave to visions of his superiority, God created in his image.
Thou art the reminder, if only man would overstand the key.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(LIFE, LOVE AND LUST EVERLASTING)

Punani phat... And I be... I be feeling my phallus beat... Thump, thump against the fabric of my boxers, see.
Butterflies in my stomach and flutters in my chest.
Oh the anticipation... Such a lovely pussy print... Such a lovely aroma, see.
My mind spinning as the blood pounds in my temples.
Come here my lovely... Sit pon me... Make wax philosophically... Got me vexed psychologically, see.
Lean back and take of my flesh as I stroke and rub emphatically.
Skin of my skin... Bone sheath of my bone... In you I man have found my home... We these trees, see.
Our fluids the givers of life... A moment dangling in the ecstasy... We spanning the annals of time, see
Locked in the throes of our love, riding the waves of our lust.
A kiss... A rub... A thrust, see.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

You want me to be a nigga just cause I came from red clay streets in South Georgia.
The black side of the tracks where it seemed even the sun shined shadier.
The only time a white man was seen was when he was coming to pick a nigga up.
Be he boss, the police or a crakka spreading his foul seed, religiously or literally.
You want me to be a nigga cause I lived in the projects.
A statistically, strategically tragic experience as forced pon we.
Locked behind fences and subjugated legally.
Urban dreams of belonging as our seed became the tragedy.
You want me to be a nigga cause I don't act like you.
A barbaric version of humanity unleashed upon the earth.
Vicious wolves set free among the sheep.
Pastors running loose in the pastures.
Spreading mental disease and tricknowledge among the formerly free.
You want me to be a nigga but that just can't be.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

60 seconds.

We who have lived through great travesties.
Seen the greatest of tragedies.
Mother's raped and babies ripped from wombs.
We God's prototypical reduced to these new niggas.
We being these beings birthed from the core of the most high.
Take a puff... rewind.
And here we are suspended in concrete dreams.
It ain't rosy in these streets.
So many comfortable in the defeat.
Time we take back our thrones and reclaim our home.
This the earth is ours... This the time is our hour.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

DIRT AND WATER MAKE CLAY

(DIRT AND WATER MAKE CLAY) CHAPTER 1

1.I am the rising sun cresting above the majestic trees.
2.The setting as viewed across the fruitful plains.
3.I am the atoms coalescing into the big bang.
4.The first flicker of the first human fire.
5.I am the realization of life.
The last gasp of dying.
6.I am the most horrible pain imaginable.
The gentlest soothing.
7.I am a comic hurtling through inner space.
8.The meteorite in free fall bringing coded DNA.
9.I am the creator of life.
The ultimate destroyer.
10.I am the last being you wanna see if you threaten my identity.
10.My hypervirtuality.
11.I am and shall always be.
12.The image of God, I am he.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(BOOTY CALL)

Let me be your booty call.
I mean that shit with all my heart.
Let me be the one you call when you need to nut.
When you need that clit flicked in that particular way.
Your hair pulled and your back scratched.
Let me walk in the door and show you my lion.
My ferocity as I sling you on the bed and push your legs back.
Bury my face as you try to contain your moans.
As they escape and you grip the sheets.
Let me place you on your knees and rub at your fluttering petals.
Pull you back and forth and watch the ripples and waves.
I pushing at the arch of your back.
I biting you softly on the back of your neck.
Let me lose myself in the softness of your velvety.
Place your nipples in my mouth.
Taste of your fruit and your femininity.
Skin of burnt brass and hair of wool.
Eyes open wide in surprise.
You in the throes of orgasm after orgasm.
Let me have my way with you as you have yours with me.
Drops of precum and drips of your liquidity.
We drenched in the dew of our endeavors.
Slick with sweet sweat.
Muscles contracting and releasing.
You screaming, or is that me?
I never beg.
Let me be your booty call.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

(WOO)
THE SOUND...
https://youtu.be/QkQtwbtaJaM

I love to woo.
Such a delicate dance... So succinct.
You make me wanna woo... Talk to you of these things.
Look into your eyes as your voice rocks the core of my soul. Earthquakes shaking my very foundations... Storms washing away the sands.
Such eloquence in the woo as I a man talk to you... Your essence lingering in air as molecules.
The way you lick your lips makes my heart pound... Blood thumping in my ears, in my temples.
Chamber's and degrees of a man's latitudes and longitudes...
Monuments dedicated to your beauty.
Stringent tones in the most moving songs...classical all the way to rap.
I wanna sex you but I love this woo...
The way your lidded eyes remind me of dusk.
This music and I so into the melody you... I strumming on your strings, tickling your keys.
A moment stranded in the deepness of space... African astronaut contemplating the vastness.
Sex... It's cool... Yet I so love the woo.