#AmericanWriters
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
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
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
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
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
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
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people