#AmericanWriters
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
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.…
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
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…
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.