#Americans #Blacks
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
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.
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
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
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 —
