#AmericanWriters
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—