#AmericanWriters
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
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
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da…
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
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,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,