#Americans #Blacks
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
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…
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
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,
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams