#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
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
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…
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
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.…
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
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
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
