#AmericanWriters
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…
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
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
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
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.…
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves