#AmericanWriters
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
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
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
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
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
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.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
