#AmericanWriters
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…