Blood of a Slave Heart of a King Current Collection 2002
She told me she
was wearing all black on valentines day.
Because her love had died.
I replied.
I do not save women, that is Jesus and Allah Job to do.
So Screw Valentines and You too.
Politely, she
was replaced by another, because I had others standing in line.
Pardon my Frankness, but this is my tribute to Valentines.
Another Day, so
these fake women can say.
Manasia I love you.
How you love me, and you never call?
You always want my time.
But I can never get any of yours at all.
You and that nigga cupid, are stupid.
Pardon My Frankness, but this my tribute to Valentines.
Relationships
are homicide.
Love is Death.
Marriage is Suicide.
They cause a strong man to crumble.
And they make a powerful woman weak.
They make someone's destiny bleak.
Pardon my Frankness, but this is my tribute to Valentines.
Valentines Day
is another day.
Were the fakes come out and play.
And in then end, it is still the same.
The next day the
couples will be fighting.
Finger-pointing, Arguing, back to the usual.
On the 14th he is a knight in shining armor.
On the 15th, you wish he was gone, and now you abhor him.
On the 14th, she
is your world and star in the sky.
On the 15th, you hate her, and wishes she could die.
Her light, you wish, it would never shine.
Pardon my Frankness, but this is my tribute to Valentines.
Let me Be me
By Manasia C. Thorn
I aint your Captain
Save A Hoe.
Nor am I your street thug.
Nor am I your nigga who sells you drugs.
I am not your ghetto king.
I am not your American Dream.
Let me be me.
I cannot be all of them thangs above.
I can only be myself and one else.
Let me Be Free
You tell me, that
I should be like the other great poets.
I am not Langston Hughes.
Nor do I share his Views.
I am not Baraka.
I could care less about them niggaz.
I can only be concerned about M.C.T.
What do I care if Giovanni respects my poetry?
Let me be me.
I cannot be all of them thangs above.
I can only be myself and one else.
Let me Be Free.
I am not your
Father.
So please do not compare me to him.
You are not mother.
I respect you enough, not to compare you to others.
Yet you persist to make your like dad.
There is a difference between the two.
Please respect me, and I will respect you.
Let me be me.
I cannot be all of them thangs above.
I can only be myself and one else.
Let me Be Free.
I am not your
preacher.
Nor am I a religous Leader.
No I do not want to be in the Mosque.
I avoid religion at all costs.
I aint your W.D.,or Noble Jew Ali.
Or you Clarence 13X.
Or your MLK.
Them niggaz are of none of my concern.
I am just Manasia.
I am not your prophet.
So please the BS, your religion of life, please drop it.
Let me be me.
I cannot be all of them thangs above.
I can only be myself and one else.
Let me Be Free
The Black Unicorn
By Manasia Thorn
Come Goddesses,
Women, Girls and Females.
Let me tell you a tale:
There is a myth that is as majestic as the sky.
The myth of the Black Unicorn.
The mysterious enigma that refuses to die.
Some say he glides
with utter boldness in every step.
Some say the unicorn can sweep you off of his feet,
with just one dance step.
I heard is he is an egalitarian, he never oppresses.
A Faithful steed is he.
Never will he leave your valley.
He is strikingly
beautiful.
However, he has one down fall.
He is as wild as the devil himself.
He will never beckon to your call.
For she who tames
the Black Unicorn,
has the power to tame the world.
He is a ravaging
beast some say, who cares nothing
about your soul.
But, the Black
Unicorn, on the inside is the sweetest steed.
If you tame him, I promise he will be there for your every need.
You may ask yourself,
where does he wander?
He wanders in clouds above the thunder.
He wanders in your village, and even at your work.
He wanders everywhere but he so hard to see.
But if you find
I promise.
He will give you agape love.
Something that most women never see.
Woes of a Handsome
Man
By Manasia C. Thorn
A Handsome man is everybody's man.
This are the words
that plague my mind.
I sit in tears, thinking about the years, when I was ugly.
They used to laugh and pick at me.
Call me a Tall Tree.
I sit and remember
when she said I was dark like Tar on a hot tin roof.
I sit and bask in her bane words, "You are too dark me"
How could I pretend?
Deep inside I wished for the day to bleach my skin.
But things changed.
I went from ugly
to handsome.
Now I wish someone had my beauty locked for ransom.
Because now I cannot get anyone to be secure in me.
They say I am shady.
She says she knows
I have 5 to 50 other ladies.
I promise her, that she is the only one in my life.
But she refutes my cries.
I ask God, why
did he make be handsome.
For I have been cursed with something I never asked for.
Everytime it is
the same thang.
He is too good to be true.
Handsome, Smart, Intelligent and he got in going on too.
How can he with so much beauty talk to me.
I say I am not
perfect, I have my faults and trials.
Yet she refutes my cry.
A Handsome man is everyones man.
I made my bed
hard of playing women, and taking their souls.
Now I lay in my bed of Ice, which I created.
It feels so alone and so cold.
Please forgive me, for hurting their hearts.
I never realized
I would reap such pain as this.
Pain like, having 10 women, but never recieving one real kiss.
The Woes of a Handsome man.
Why do you older people tell on me?
Is it because a 23 year old supervises thee?
You hate and scorn my name and thangs.
Why because a young playa is havening thangs?
I aint nothing,
I only make about 25 hours a week.
I aint got but $15.00 in my pocket at the writing of this piece.
And that has got to last me for 1 week.
I aint got no
stellar job.
I am part time, I aint a snob.
Are you mad because you go to wear suits for pennies?
Or, because I glide thru wit jeans and braids for a few more pennies?
You older people
are sick, and need to be slapped.
You must understand I am not your son.
I do not care about your so-called wisdom.
Your words are
vain because you are an old back stabber.
Been working at this damn college for 20 years, wit dat same raggedy chitter
chatter.
I get my knowledge
from the Goddesses and Gods of my life and of the poetry Gallery.
Not you old cats who wasting time.
Who will never be mentally free.
I refuse to join
in your gossip at work.
I refuse to participate in your stupid lunches.
And forgot visiting your church.
Stop hating.
You just mad because
A young black Ghetto male.
Is intelligent, roister, eclectic, and making it pop.
Not in a jail cell nor on the corner grinding.
A n.i.g.g.a. who
strives to be alive, and refuses to Rot.
Lone Star
By Manasia C. Thorn
Written in Ft. Worth, Texas
4/10/02
Lone Star
That's what I be.
Sam, do you love me?
Lone Star
Outspoken, violent, and a gentlemen.
Sam do you want to be with me?
After spitefully
hating you at times.
I see that your light.
In the Dark Corridoors of my life, shines bright.
As I walk the streets of Ft. Worth at night.
Your spirit holds me tight.
A gurl like you.
A n.i.g.g.a. needs.
Lone Star
That's what I be.
Lone Star
Outspoken, violent, and a gentlemen.
Sam do you want to be with me?
I know my men
are killers and drug dealers.
I know I seem agressive and dangerous.
I aint bane, I promise i won't hurt you.
I'm a ghetto mermaid, swimming thru a sea of death.
I washed up on black rock beach.
Barley alive out of breath.
And you found me, and took me in.
Thank you for yo lovin.
Lone Star
That's what I be.
Lone Star
Outspoken, violent, and a gentlemen.
Sam do you want to be with me?
You know you the only universe this Lone Star can shine in.
I love you, and
I am sorry for the stank thangs that I do.
Down ass Cracker.
By Dale Thomas
Big B, I guess this is the end.
However this poem is not an epicede.
But a panegyric ode, to my cool ass friend.
You my nizzle, playa.
People might call you overweight and fat.
I think you a cool ass woaty.
To me you a tight ass cat.
Some may say you are lazy even a slacker.
But to me, you just a down ass cracker.
Well B that's
the end.
My encomium words, for you are ineffable.
It will be futile to continue this poem.
For I will be writing to eternity's end.