#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody