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Saturday, January 22, 2022

(THE HARSHEST REALITY)

Every year I grow a year older knowing that not a damn thing I say is reaching not a motherfucker I designed it to effect.
My words falling into the abyss of forgotten things, they overshadowed by trivialities made to seem humongous. 
What a motherfucker is wearing the badge of acceptance as another child falls slain by the bullets of an uncaring gun held in the hands of an uncaring youth, a prejudiced cop, these the way to genocide. 
Such a soft piano track playing in the background,  an angelic choir singing in stringent tones.
Rising and falling like a chest gasping its last breath, a street corner in a man's ravaged mind.
Ancestors blood running like tears to the core of the earth, tears evaporating and becoming the rain washing away the stain.
My words wafting on the breeze and drifting away, my time here but a millisecond as I a bard try to make my mark, if only I had another lifetime, if only I had come a little harder.
I just a man watching these days pass by on my way to the end, my bones one day the dust that new civilizations will be built with.
Every year they remind me with fireworks and jubilation  that every word I utter is a dying one.
I fading into the forgotten have to deal with this.
This the reality. 

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 




Tuesday, January 18, 2022

(BRIEFLY)

Some days I think of heaven and its relation to you and I... You such divine fruit encapsulating I a man born seed inside... Here I go again lost in thy moistened flesh... A sigh pon my lips... A fall through my lidded eyes and I... Whew... I remain suspended supine in thy tranguillity... I the beat in thine layers... The bass in thy place... Thy dew the amber keeping me solid dimensionally...I transfixed intergalactic... Tethered and complete... Scattered to a trillion particles... Thighs parted thou causeth I to gasp... I on the precipice... So soft... So pink... Thy the portal to my innerspace... The most secret of my clandestine places...A soft lick... A gentle whisper... A soft touch... Nay a firmer one... a moment as I savor of your essence... A second... An eternity as I dip.. deeply into the essential core you.
The dew...
The dew.

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

THE VAPORS

And time, time finds me once again retreating to this, this my fortress of solitude.
I so many miles away from the source of my indecision, she so fragrant in my mind, my soul yearning for her touch.
The caress of her voice on my scarred psyche, the electric jolt of her touch on my skin.
My heart beating an echoing song into the valley of my indecision, I so wanting in my need.
365 days ago I looking upon her and wishing I could say the things pounding at my temples, her young queen and I, I wandering king, these streets of Babylon mine home.
I pondering if I should open the doors to this mine kingdom.
So long the wait as seasons changed and I filling my days with concubines, they leaving me empty in these my caverns.
Her lips calling my name causing the blood to boil in my veins, the slim curves of she holding me enthralled, I wanting her in my world so fucking badly. 
That was then and this, this is now, I now knowing her secrets and she mine, I a captive to her charms, subsonic in nature.
We together moving as one, I having known her since the creation of time, we beating as drums on an African plain, we roaring lion and lioness as the sun crosses the sky.
I replaying these things so many times that they have become engraved in who I be.
I superman cringing in fear wondering is she my salvation or my end, these feelings, these feelings.
I having placed this distance, I having retreated to this, this my fortress of solitude to discern.
I once solid am now drifting on the vapors ethereal in mine nature.
I miss her so, damn, I miss her so.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Sunday, October 17, 2021

(ONE SUNDAY I SAID UNTO SHE)


It's Sunday as I alight pon thine planet, It wouldn't matter if it it were any other day. Thy so appealing to me as I whiff of thine air, so sweet in mine lungs. A moment as I touch thine earth. Thy beneath mine fingertips. So pleasing, and my heart doth pound in mine chest. I transfixed and transposed.  A slight dance along these words as I man try to elucidate thee mine queen. To draw thee universal, cosmic and infinite. Mother of a new world, born of the old. My light falling upon thy mountains and thine valleys. Such sweet tea as I sit back and sip mine coffee, a puff of the blunt and I swept along sing with these keys and characters. This my dear is a sweet fall song, whispering faintly among the breeze swept leaves. A sigh, a soliloquy. 


JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY

Friday, September 24, 2021

(SUNDOME)

Who am I?
This mass of flesh derived of carbon and water.
Child of a once burning star.
The literal definition of a son of a sun.
See that right there is higher ascension bourn on being born.
Listening to lies preached so sweet on Sunday morning, preached to the awake but sleep.
They holding books devoted to the sun, nay the son.
What a treacherous tale of deceit, grandma teaching it as you rock on her knee.
Passed along genetically as ashes return to dust; iron to rust.
Man leaking water down the wrinkles of his melanated skin, off his beard they drop.
Tiny splatters into the ground of his birth.
They evaporating into the sky picked up by the light of the sun.
Angel's cry rain.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

( DRUMBEAT)

Of thou do I speak... such a poignantly tasty treat.
Would that I could taste of thee.
Could that I would drink of thy nectar. 
And here you are dancing all across my synapses.
So succinctly doth thy flutter in mine subconscious. 
Thy dance so mesmerizing.
I a poet suspended standing magnified in the darkness of thine light.
Heartbeats away from fascination to realization in the comfort of thine arms.
A whisper, nay my queen a sigh into the cosmos.
I bound in a quagmire as mine mind spirals                                                   to                                           the                                                surface                                     of                                            our                                                 planets.
I so lost in these thoughts of thee wouldeth digress thus satisfied.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY 

Thursday, June 3, 2021

ALPHA AND OMEGA

Reformation 
The air quivers chilled
Man transforms gradually 
Sun shines in winter

Cycles
Leaves from green to brown
Silent witnesses absorbed
Falling branch to earth

Cosmic
Stars shine in dark sky
Celestial in nature
Shimmering slightly 

Infinity
Spring fades to summer
Stages of a man's short life
A second explaned

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY