#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
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 —
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 God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
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—
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
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
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—