#AmericanWriters
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…
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
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 calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
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?
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
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!