#Americans #Blacks
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
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.
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
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.…
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
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.
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
