#AmericanWriters
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
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 —
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
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
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…
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
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…
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…
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: