#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
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
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
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
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a 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
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
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.
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…