#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
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…
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
