#AmericanWriters
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
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
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
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…
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.