#AmericanWriters
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
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 went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
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…
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.…
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,