#AmericanWriters
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
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
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
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.
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
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…
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.