#AmericanWriters
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
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!
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
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.
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…