#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
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 work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
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, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
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.
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
