#AmericanWriters
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt