#AmericanWriters
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
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 am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
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,
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people