#AmericanWriters
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
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 gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
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—
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
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!