A collection of poems and sonnets for your inquiring mind.
5 - A.G.A.P.E. an acronym for A black Goddess for All Pleasure and Eternity
8 - Why Black Women Suck - Written by the Black Man in I am Black Man who did not love himself.
Suicide&Bliss
By Manasia Thorn
Are you tired of
being alone.
Are you tired of no one calling you on the phone.
Do you want to go to a better place?
That's separated by time and space.
It's a place I call utopia.
A place where only
you can see.
If you just take your own life.
You will be free.
Sick of people putting you down.
Tired of being the joke of campus or of the town.
Every time you try
to get a new girlfriend it never works.
Every time you attempt to climb the mountain of life.
You fall down and get hurt.
Come with me through the easy valley of suicide.
It will be a beautiful and joyful ride.
Who's to say that
you can't take your own life.
Would not you rather end it all.
Instead of going through with this strife.
You can come to me I will heal your pain.
I can make your sunshine into rain.
But then you must
ask yourself.
WHY DIE?
Is it really worth ending it all.
You can take the easy road to sorrow.
Or learn to cope with your life.
And learn how to get up from a fall,
Manasia Thorn
11-28-99
WHY
BLACK WOMEN SUCK
By Manasia Thorn
Ms. Jackson I want
to explain this arcane subject to you.
Bring you into the red so you will no longer be in the blue.
Do you remember
when I first started your class?
I was sporting an afro, gym shorts, and flip flops.
The only clothes I had.
I remember when
Juaacklyn would never talk to me.
Or any Kent campus girl for that matter.
And now when I change my appearance, all I receive is flatter.
This is why black women suck.
Black women make
me sick all the time.
It seems like only the majority thinks about you, when you begin to
shine.
It seems like I
could never get a single girl at the downtown campus
to even look at me.
Now when I walk
through the halls all these black girls are
approaching me.
This is why black women suck.
Another situation
also has been brewing these days.
And that Would be Ms. Zoe Roberts.
A girl from the F-L-A.
Who seemed so attentive
to me and who would hold conversation.
Until I checked yes on the felony section of her date application.
This is why black women suck.
Honestly Ms. Gayle
Jackson divergent teacher of mine.
I wish I could talk to a white girl all the time.
It seems like white women do the following things:
A. PAST------->FORGET
ABOUT YOUR
B. ARE NOT CONCERNED ABOUT YOUR INCOME.
C. AND DO NOT CARE IF YOU HAVE A CAR.
I know I have not
talked to all white women.
But they showed me the following traits so far.
And this is why black women suck.
Sonnet's from my
soul (Unorthodox Shakespearean sonnet's)
Hello black American
my name is Manasia Thorn.
I'm that crazed street nigga you uncle tom's shitted on.
You want me to conform to your nothing-ness but you got me bent.
Let me elaborate on my origin and who I represent.
I am the Son Yakub
first born.
Raised in halls of evil under darkness and scorn.
My daddy taught me to pack pistols and destroy black women.
He said sell dope to your own kind but never make the user
transition.
He molded me to
be evil, and I loved it yo.
I got kick out of beaten up black women and calling them bitches and hoes.
But my father left me in the cold.
Kicked me into a dimension where I was young no longer old.
Now back to Manasia
the 6'4" playa.
Tall, dark, and mysterious committing capaz.
My wisdom was deep, but my folly overtook me.
Now I am a typical under 25 nigga in state custody.
My life was going
nowhere and I was in despair.
I considered having sex with suicide under hells stairs.
But a voice came to me in book form.
It said "Son of Yakub I can release you from this fierce storm"
I opened my eyes
and my evil died.
Naim Akbar exposed my father's lies.
Now I'm ready to roll and it's time to save souls.
And expose the fake black's in their suits and priestly robes.
Chorus - (I am not sure if a sonnet has a chorus?)
I hear my niggaz
say.
I'm destined to die, I'm destined to die.
I'm under 25, I'm under 25.
Nigga that's a lie, Nigga that's a lie.
I can show you lyrically the paths of light.
So you can be the original man you are and not a creature of the
night.
Verse 2
Post civil rights
generation says we have no drive.
They say were suicidal and all I want to do is get high.
When I want to reform you give me a cold stare.
You judge me and call me a thug because of my hair.
You say I'm inferior
because I speak ebonically.
You think you all that because you supervisor of the company.
You been slaving for that position for thirty years.
When I can get it in three.
You claim you intelligent
because you speak fluently.
Eloquent speech means nothing in the academia arena Mr. and Ms smarty.
I'm laced with knowledge, wisdom, and understanding yo.
Something you uncle tom's ain't got, and you so called Mr. and Ms.
company negro's.
Chorus
Written by Manasia
Thorn
Alachua County Jail 10-21-99 11:20pm
Reality
check.
by Manasia Thorn
My jail niggaz is
looking at life through a straw.
There's a bigger picta in the world in which I saw.
Put down yo pistol and yo crack cocaine (crystallized version).
Put down yo powder (soft version of cocaine) it's easy to make a
change.
You niggaz is living
vanity and fantasy.
Ain't no mo play where you stomp (place where you sell drugs) and
you know it G.
While you niggaz strive for ghetto recognition and fame from the
hood.
What is it worth, in the future will it do any good.
You'll be remembered
in fake fables and old sluts tales.
Your name will not even leave the county jail.
The money is fast, and I can see your eyes glitter when I say cash.
You think you have it all then vanishes in a flash.
Your homies diss
you when you have no weed to smoke.
Your supposed main lady gone.
Taking another dope nigga dick down her throat.
It's true, you say yourself never trust your friends or bitches.
But the closet to
you are the Fed's and snitches (Fed's another term
for a person that tells the police on you).
Yo baby mamma says she love you.
Now you in jail crying cuz you know it aint true.
Give me your hand.
Let me take you to a foreign land.
It's called the city of responsibility and it's on the shores of
maturity's sands.
I can show you life, love and stability.
A future your children, baby momma, and you if you follow me.
Written - Alachua County Jail 10-25-99
I think you about
you everyday.
I imagine my heart in yours someday.
Goddess of Love where are you?
Please come unto me immortal woman of virtue.
I know I'm a little
crazy with a felonious past.
But if you can forgive me, our love will last.
I'll be your castle and inside there's only one throne.
In which your the only woman who calls this palace home.
I want to learn
from you and drink from your river of life.
Healing my wounds of the day every time I sip from it at night.
You caress my soul when I am feeling pain.
And I'm your guiding light when the path is dark and strange.
I worship you everyday,
bringing my offerings unto you.
Because you were with me when I was catching buses 9 & 2.
You was by my side when I took you on cheap dates.
And in my poorest times you were there, and my stupidity you would
take.
Chorus
A black Goddess
Always for Pleasure and Eternity.
I am in her and she is in me.
She's the prettiest soul I have ever seen.
Then I awoke alone for I was in a dream.
Verse 2
All the real black
gods across the land who understand.
Your not a full creation until you have a real black woman.
To my niggaz that are faithful and who don't disrespect their
goddess.
Your reward is priceless, a woman who is honest.
To my fakers and
pimps, I feel your pain.
I know you cheat, because you don't want to be hurt again feeling
strange.
I know the code, Trust a bitch and be broke.
Never share your emotions and heart won't be choked.
But look who you
try to love, bitches and hoes.
Women who are worthless and have no goals.
They support your negativity and you know it G.
A real goddess will support you positively.
A goddess ain't
going to let you hit (have sex with) on the first
night.
Nor Two weeks later under moonlight.
She won't take your money, she got her own.
And she going somewhere in life, not sitting home.
Written - Alachua County Jail 10-20-99 1:30pm
More Poetry
Rhapsody
with Death.
by Manasia Thorn
One may ask, why
do you talk about death all the time.
In my life, death is not a crime.
I want to dance with her, but I hesitate to step on astral plane's
floor.
For I feel that I can live on a little more.
I know my time is
coming near.
That's why I have no fear.
If I should take my own life then that is solely up to me.
Not for a judge to decide only D.J.T.
It seems like that
my world is full of gloomy thoughts.
I look so beautiful but yet I am alone.
I am so funny, but not a single girl likes me.
I doubt very seriously, if they even look at me.
Why am I so willing
to Die?
A man so young, talented, and beautiful like the sky.
Because I see that their is no hope for me.
MY reality is merely a fantasy.
The only thing that
can save me is Death herself.
Because she can love me like know one else.
She knows how to kiss me, and she likes me too.
Or is that until my soul is eternally in the astral plane too.
For I have found
that my girlfriend Death is a liar.
For she only loved me when my soul was alive with fire.
And when I die she will politely move on to another.
Just like a real life woman who throws me in the gutter.
Her sister suicide
is the same way.
And her mother homicide cares nothing about me even to this day.
But her father tells me to live on.
For he is love and he sits alone.
Rhapsody with Death.
Rhapsody with Death.
Rhapsody with Death.
By Manasia Thorn
I want to be with
you.
But I hesitate with my heart.
For I don't want to be hurt.
And I don't want my new year to have a sour start.
I can not understand
why I love you.
I met you via packet.
I have never even seen you.
Will you hurt me.
I know you have other men in your life.
But why must you still persist that being with me is so right.
I know what it is.
You are waiting for a certain man to come through.
You're waiting for him to come from the heavens and love you.
You sit upon your
earthly throne even through your a goddess.
Tichona If I came to Harare will you be serious with me.
Can you stop seeing
other men, while I'm in America.
Can I stop seeing other women for you.
We will see,
Manasia Thorn
I
am a Black Man
By Manasia Thorn
1-16-00
I sit at home and
watch T.V. Everyday.
I have kids who I don't take care of.
And I have a whole lot of Back Child Support to pay.
I am a Black Man.
I have no goals
in life.
Oops, I forgot my only two.
To get high and drunk.
And to please my supposed friends or crew.
I am a Black Man.
I love my mate.
Even though I broke her nose.
Even though I put her down everyday.
And I still love her even though to me she's only a bitch and a ho.
I am a Black Man.
I say I love my
wife.
But I am with her best friend or another woman every-night.
Instead of me being a husband and a father to my child.
I am always chasing tail, on the late night scene acting wild.
I am a Black Man.
I am a successful
Black Man.
I have it all.
A house, an expensive car, money in the bank.
Woman I ball.
But I am so flaky that you can eat me with a bowl of milk.
And I am not concerned
about my woman, my main thing is my money
and my little house and my little car that I think is a big space ship.
I am a Black Man
I would rather go
play basketball with my homeboys.
Than to be with you.
I am a Black Man.
A man who is lost in a sea of vanity.
A man who is lost in fantasy.
I am a counterfeit King with an opaque sense of reality.
I am a Black Man.
Christianity
By Manasia Thorn
1-16-00
Pastors are Disasters.
They rob the poor and give to themselves.
They say that god is going to bless you.
Yet you have no food in your fridge or canned goods on your shelf.
You Pay tithes every
month like it says in Malachi 3:10.
You wrote your pastor and asked him to help pay your light bill.
And he politely threw the letter in the trash bin.
The earth is the
lord's and fullness thereof.
The Bible says.
Well then why do these pastors constantly beg for my bread.
Can we Get 10 more
dollars from everyone in the building.
Even though this is the second time we passed around the offering plate.
Sow a seed with this church.
He promises a tree but all you got was a sour grape.
Christians use their
faith to even break the law.
They write faith checks with no money in the bank.
They say I am stealing
this money in the name of god.
But then they condemn the robber when he robs.
Evangelists are
scandalous.
Missionaries are scary.
And Prophets are out for the money in yo pocket.
And Bishop's are
evil.
And so are a lot of church's too.
I almost forgot
about the Christian person.
The girl who was with me at the Hilton on Saturday.
But is in the choir stand on Sunday.
The one who asks for forgiveness everyday.
Or the Christian
guy who creeps on the low.
He really is a good boy.
But deep inside he is a ho.
And Let me tell
you about the existing segregation.
It is called church.
And it is at high noon Sunday.
All across the nation,
Manasia Thorn.
Thank you for entering
my heart and soul.
If you like a copy please click the print button.
Or send me your name and address and I will personally print you up a copy of
the anthology.
"Remember the if
the door of opportunity is closed do not pick the lock and open it"
-- Manasia Thorn