#AmericanWriters
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
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
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 work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
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
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.