#AmericanWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
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
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
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
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
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?
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da…
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.
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 will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.