#AmericanWriters
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
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!
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.